Chapter Text
It's Christmas again, snow falling in contained storms with freezing gusts and slippery streets. Christmas and the snow are responsible for happy children finally wearing their heavy coats stored at the back of the closet and stressed adults clearing thick snow from their doorways early in the morning. It's the time for big hats, thick gloves, and snow boots. The time when schools close when heavy snowstorms are coming, the time when love and camaraderie warm hearts throughout the neighborhood. Except for Natalie Scatorccio and her dysfunctional family.
For Natalie, Christmas has always been the same since childhood. Her mother gets excited about colorful decorations during grocery shopping, spends the dinner money on bright lights and glitter-filled baubles. They arrive home after Mrs. Scatorccio has left her little girl full of excitement for this year's festivities.
"It's going to be different this time, sweetheart. I promise."
And Natalie knows it's a lie the moment her mother repeats the same phrase from last year and the year before that. It's the moment they cross the door with bags full of groceries, the moment a big man impatiently rises from the couch. Same bottle of beer, the same scowl that Natalie was used to, the same shouts, the same bright lights shattered on the floor. The trailer is decorated with a different kind of tradition. It's decorated with broken furniture, traces of blood, screams, and a dark-haired little girl hiding inside the kitchen cabinet, hands muffling her ears, and lips trembling.
It's Christmas again.
But this time, at sixteen years old, Natalie no longer hides among the compartments of the kitchen. The downside of growing up is that she no longer fits in them, and she can no longer curl up next to old, musty-smelling pots that she used to find comforting during much of her childhood.
There's no more her mother taking her shopping, no more Natalie inside the cart full of cheap food about to reach its expiration date, and no more an evil man ruining the tradition. The evil man is dead, dead like the Christmas spirit within the hearts of the remaining Scatorccio family. Her mother, the victim of the evil man, died with him on that day. She didn't die physically, but she surely died spiritually. Natalie never sees her outside of the room, and the few times it happens, she's lying on the floor as drunk as the evil man used to be every day of the week. But she doesn't hurt anyone. In fact, the times when her mother is drunk and lying on the floor are the times when Natalie feels the most loved in her life.
"I love you, sweetheart."
"I'm proud of who you've become, sweetie." Mrs. Scatorccio said, drunk, with her dull, tired, and above all, lost eyes.
There's something dark growing in Natalie's heart whenever her drunk mother looks at her with compassion. It makes her think she'd like to offer a million beer bottles, saying, "Just drink a little more, Mom, I need you to love me enough," before placing a beer bottle in her hands and smiling in gratitude for finally feeling her heart warm amidst sweet words and tender hugs.
There was no Christmas or gifts for the Scatorccio family this year.
There was no Christmas or gifts for the Scatorccio family in 1995, nor in 1994, and not ever.
On December 27, 1996, Mrs. Scatorccio joined the wicked man, wherever he may have been. And Natalie, at sixteen years old, stood still, watching her body hanging in the middle of the room like a swaying statue. There are few memories of that night. Natalie recalls walking home exhausted after soccer practice. It had been fucking exhausting because Coach Martinez didn't give any breaks even for Christmas and New Year's celebrations. She remembers opening the door, feeling the cold biting her arms, looking ahead, and seeing her. Natalie remembers freezing, forgetting how to breathe again.
And after that, everything became a blur of jumbled memories, like a movie running too fast on the cinema screen for an eager audience.
It's no longer Christmas in Wiskayok, and Natalie has lost her entire family. Well, there might be another Scatorccio out there causing trouble, but there's no one else with her anymore. It's a mix of relief and pain. It's like getting stabbed in the stomach after taking so many pills that there's no way to feel anything anymore.
Natalie's mother didn't have a conventional funeral. People didn't cry for her, even though Grandma Scatorccio showed up in Wiskayok to mourn her only daughter. Natalie didn't see her grandmother cry, nor did she cry herself. The yellowjackets showed up, offered condolences, and Laura Lee gave her heartfelt speech because she was kind and good-hearted. Natalie could have cried if she weren't trapped in the whole world she created inside that trailer. Her mother wasn't a bad person; she just wasn't a good mother. Van stood by her side the entire time, embracing her from the beginning to the end of the small ceremony for Mrs. Scatorccio, who by that point was forever trapped in a gray urn of ashes.
Natalie didn't cry. Not even once, and she feels desperate for not crying. Fuck, it's her mother inside that urn. Even Misty Quingley, who never spoke to Nat's mother, shed tears, but Natalie Scatorccio? She didn't shed a single tear.
She killed (accidentally) her father, her mother had committed suicide, and her grandmother (who would probably die soon) cared very little about her. Jesus Christ! Natalie Scatorccio must have been cursed by death.
Two days before New Year's Eve, Natalie and Marlene Scatorccio had a silent dinner in the trailer. Natalie couldn't eat; the tough meat hurt her teeth, and her eyes were fixated on her mother's ashes in the urn. From time to time, she imagines smashing that dreadful urn, imagines stomping on the ashes, imagines crying and screaming, asking her dead mother why she couldn't be strong for Natalie, why Natalie wasn't worth it, and why people always left her. The next morning, a red-haired woman was outside the trailer, and Grandma Scatorccio was getting ready to leave. Natalie would be left again, and this time, it would be forever. The red-haired woman was accompanied by someone Natalie knew very well, someone who hugged her the moment they saw her, someone who whispered, "I've got you. I'm here with you, and everything will be okay," and Natalie pretended to believe. Van Palmer had been Nat's best friend since kindergarten, and now they would be living together with Mrs. Palmer. It was somewhat similar to living with her late mother, considering both of them drank like alcoholics, so Natalie wouldn't be that far from home.
"Have a good life, dear." That's all Natalie has from a grandmother she didn't even remember existed. Grandma Scatorccio talks with Mrs. Palmer, and they agree on monthly visits, just to keep the social services off Natalie's back, as emancipation proceedings take time and it's not like Natalie's custody can be passed to someone else as if she were a dog about to be adopted by a new family. Despite that being exactly what it feels like.
They didn't have time for farewell hugs, and they certainly didn't pretend that they meant anything to each other. The moment Grandma Scatorccio smiled with those yellow teeth at Natalie, she knew she was going to be abandoned, and she knew that woman never cared enough to consider accepting her. All Marlene did when she showed up in Wiskayok was take what was left of her daughter (the daughter she constantly called a coward for what she did) and leave. She didn't even have the empathy to ask if Natalie wanted to keep something as a memory. She was her mother, didn't she have the right to keep anything?
"Hey Nat, aren't you excited for summer camp?" Mrs. Palmer (clearly drunk enough) asks with a smile. Oh, my God. Natalie looks at Van as if silently asking if that was a serious question.
"Oh, come on, mom- What the heck?" Van exclaimed only to receive grumbles from the driver's seat.
"My mother died, Mrs. Palmer. I'm not excited about any summer camp." And here comes the dense and awkward silence. She hears Mrs. Palmer say, "Of course, dear, I'm sorry," and Natalie doesn't feel like saying more anything.
On Tuesday, the last day of 1996, she had her official first day living with Mrs. Palmer and Van in that cozy, albeit messy, house. It's not as cold as the trailer, still with the same beer bottles in the fridge, and when she arrived, she kicked some bottle caps on the floor. Nonetheless, she has a home and a place to stay, so honestly? Natalie may be really fucked, but she's got some luck. Mrs. Palmer and Van share the same rules as Mrs. Scatorccio and Nat, which is to say... there's no fucking rule at all. All Natalie has to do is make her bed, clean up after herself, and put her clothes in the washing machine.
"Man, you'll get used to it quickly. My mom practically lives on the couch," Van says as she helps her new roommate carry her belongings into the house.
And after that, Nat sighs, thinks of her best dumb joke, and says, "Van, when were you going to tell me that your stepdad is a sofa?" and all Van retorts with is a:
“Nat, fuck off!”
Van's room is a visual explosion of her personality. It's a mess, (just like Natalie's was) with clothes thrown around, soccer cleats scattered on the bed, the team jacket sprawled on the chair, and what Natalie judged to be the coolest part: a Super Nintendo accompanied by a dusty, square TV on the floor.
"Ah, you weird groupie," Nat teases. There are posters of Queen, Radiohead, and The Cure on the walls. Van doesn't respond, and because of that, Scatorccio turns to the door, only to see a concerned face looking back at her. Mental note: When Van gets nervous or uncomfortable, she clenches her fingers. And now, guess what Van Palmer is doing while trying to figure out what to say to her orphan best friend? "What?!" Natalie asks, even though she knows damn well what crap Van would say to her.
"Listen... Man, you know I'm here to support you, right? I mean—I don't—Damn it, Nat, I'm not good with these things," Palmer says frustratedly. Her face is all red, and Natalie thinks it must be the most awkward conversation ever. "Okay, let me try again. Nat, I'm really sorry about what happened. You didn't deserve any of this, and I have no idea how you feel right now, but I want you to know that if you need anything, I'm here. If you want to hug me, cry, or—damn, I don't know, get wasted and all, I'm here... I just want you to know that. Im here."
Natalie doesn't understand how Van can care about her so much. Well, Van never said she loved Nat, but she knows. Their friendship isn't the mushy type with lots of affirmations. So when Van is nice to Nat, when she sets aside her own stuff to be with Natalie anywhere, Palmer is secretly saying "I fucking love you" And Natalie loves her so fucking much too.
"I know, Van. Thanks." Silence. God, why is it so hard to talk about feelings like a normal person would? Natalie can't bear to have this pain all to herself anymore. It hurts so much, it has become a real pain, a real sickness. Maybe she is sick and dying every day. Maybe Natalie has been dying since the day she was born.
Tell her, Natalie. She needs to know.
Van and her understanding eyes search for something, and Natalie feels like she's forgetting how to breathe again.
Say it. What the fuck is wrong with you?
"Are you gonna get all clingy and hug me or...?" The nervous smile on Nat's lips helps to lighten the mood. Van embraces her, and Natalie reciprocates with laughter and a sense of gratitude.
“Asshole!”
So... It's still New Year's Eve. Mrs. Palmer still wants to celebrate because, honestly? She has nothing to do with the grief of the abandoned girl. She just has to make sure Nat has a home, a mouth full of food, and clean clothes to receive a monthly fifty-dollar check for expenses.
That's what Natalie is worth.
She's worth fifty dollars a month.
Van and her mom argue about Mrs. Palmer's cheerful mood, but Natalie just says she doesn't mind, that she can stay in her room, that she's not in the mood to go out to the yard, count the seconds, and hope for a better 1997. Van Palmer and her stubbornness won't accept that Mrs. Palmer wants to party, and in response, that woman is grabbing her old pickup and taking off. "You're gonna spend your New Year's being all mopey with your friend? Good for you."
Mrs. Palmer took off, and the yellow jackets were in. More specifically, two yellow jackets: Taissa Turner and Laura Lee. They were the only ones who confirmed they would come because the other girls wanted to party. Van thinks the situation is messed up, but Natalie says she'd do the same if she could. Taissa and Laura Lee are ringing the doorbell, but when Nat opens the door, she sees three smiling yellowjackets.
Taissa Turner, Laura Lee, and... Charlotte Matthews?
"Hey you." It's Lottie who stands in front of Natalie, while the other girls go inside to talk to Van after hugging Nat and expressing how sorry they are about her mom. She didn't need to be the lost and abandoned puppy of the team.
Charlotte is not normal. She doesn't look at Nat with sad eyes and say, "I'm sorry for your mom. It’s sucks” like the other girls do.
Actually, Lottie smiles, showing those cute fangs, and says, "Happy New Year, loser," before giving her a hug.
Oh, this is a new reaction and Natalie knows exactly what's going on.
It’s the fucking Lottie code.
The Lottie code. Well-known among the yellowjackets and quite effective during group training, parties, pre-game meetings, and locker room chats. You see, Charlotte Matthews is (for some reason) quite witty. She's not like Laura Lee, she doesn't pray before games, recite Bible verses, or invite the team to church on Sundays. In fact, Lottie is just… Lottie.
Lottie is just Lottie when she's being a mystery, when she's being a really good soccer player, and she's just Lottie when she's helping her friends, even though she's that typical introverted girl who only joins the team when her attention is required. So, when the Lottie code was called, everyone knew that Charlotte would come into action with her caring, mysterious, and unpredictable ways. And of course, when those freaking cute fangs come together with a gentle smile, Lottie becomes a million times more convincing, and it's impossible to say “no” to her.
Natalie thinks she's a mind-controlling vampire.
It’s make sense, right? Lottie doesn't show up at New Year's parties at friends' houses, nor Christmas parties, nor birthday parties, or anything like that. But she's here. Charlotte Matthews doesn't leave her home without a reason, and the reason today was Natalie Scatorccio and her deep grief.
So, if Charlotte Matthews shows up at your house looking like she just stepped out of the fucking Oscars just to make sure your night is even decent, you're lucky.
If Lottie smiles at you and gives you a tight hug while saying, "Oh, sorry for the dress code. My parents forced me to attend a stupid dinner," you're fucking lucky.
Here's a list of things Natalie knows about Lottie Matthews:
- She's a great soccer player.
- Lottie is an avid reader.
- She has wealthy parents, like, really wealthy and she smells like money.
And that's it.
That's the end of the list because Charlotte Matthews has been a big question mark in Natalie's mind since the day she showed up at elementary school as the lonely new girl with braided hair and baby teeth about to fall out.
It's a good distraction for Natalie to think of more items for her list of things she knows about Charlotte Matthews because it keeps her from constantly thinking, "You're a heartless bitch who didn't even shed a tear for your parents after everything they did to keep you alive."
And my God, Natalie feels like a sociopath with no emotions. She trembles in her own clothes when the front door slams shut after Lottie enters, captivating everyone with her smiles and that aura of a fun girl that she clearly doesn't possess.
"I thought Misty would show up, she was so attached to Natalie in the trailer that day." Taissa Turner. She's sitting on the couch with that typical tough girl pose, never taking off her team jacket even when relaxing with friends.
"Guys, Misty is in California. She went to see Grease on Broadway." New information. This comes from Lottie, who mentions how Misty has been inundating her mailbox with themed postcards. It's funny. Misty is always so pleasantly quirky, and Natalie appreciates that.
Yeah, pleasantly quirky is the best definition for Misty Quigley.
Laura Lee has her eyes fixed on Natalie. God, she looks at her with so much pity that Natalie feels like she's about to cry. Ok, thanks for this, Laura Lee! Natalie will finally tremble like a scared little girl after watching her mother's face covered in blood thanks to her abusive dad. “Nat, you're so strong and—”
"Don't say what you're thinking of telling me, Laura Lee." The sound of the bottle cap being opened transports Natalie back to the trailer as if she's inside a time machine.
It happens like this.
Natalie huddled inside the kitchen cupboard.
Natalie with her tiny hands pressing against her mouth, afraid to breathe too loudly.
Natalie watching her mother slump to the floor after the blow to her head.
Three steps away, the sound of the beer bottle cap hitting the floor.
The fear in her eyes as her father sits on the couch, watching TV as if knocking out her mother is normal.
Then, Natalie's mother wakes up, her face still against the floor, too tired to get up again.
Natalie's whole body is trembling. Her mother looks at her through the small crack in the cupboard and close.
Since then, Natalie has been afraid of the dark .
"Nat?" Van called for her. Natalie wasn't sure when her breathing had become so heavy and complicated, but she knew she had been holding it when Lottie startled her by placing a hand on her back. Those gentle and caring eyes hit Natalie hard. When did she sit down beside her, to begin with?
The silence in the room is awkward and so frightening that it feels like the Night Stalker is going to come down the stairs and kill them one by one.
"I'm fine. I just need a beer." Natalie feels like the four girls in that living room can't take their eyes off her. And indeed, they don't. Each of the yellowjackets practically locks their gaze on Nat's back as if targeting her for elimination.
But they don't want to eliminate her. They are just concerned as Natalie rushes to hide in the kitchen. Well, she could hide in the kitchen if the house wasn't so small and everything wasn't completely open-plan. These damn American houses are all the same.
“Guys” As Natalie looked sternly at them with that serious expression, the Yellowjackets thought the mini-meeting was over. But Natalie is saying, "Let's go outside." And the girls are visibly surprised.
"What?"
"Outside. Let's go to the garden, make a damn bonfire, and watch the fireworks."
No one stopped her.
Natalie was going to make that fucking bonfire, and if she was lucky, she'd end up burned to ashes just like her mother.
It's exactly eleven o'clock on the last day of 1996. New Year's is approaching, a new chapter is about to begin, and 1997 has to be the best year of those teenagers' lives.
When you call a yellowjacket and inform them about a mini gathering, they spread the word like bees discovering a new source of pollen. In the end, it didn't matter how the gathering started with Natalie, Van, Laura Lee, Taissa, and Lottie, because now they were all here. All of them. All these little and adorable bees gathered in Mrs. Palmer's garden, drinking beer around a blazing bonfire. Each one of them abandoned whatever party or family gathering they had to show up. They all gather to write a postcard for Misty, to take photos with Mrs. Palmer's old camera, and Natalie pretends that she feels better.
The girls start talking about 1997 when Jackie looks at the watch around her wrist and says, "Eleven twenty-seven!" Mari laughs because eleven twenty-seven is nowhere near what she expected. Time has passed so slowly for those girls, and they barely noticed. They all have their own goals for the next year. Shauna shares her desire to learn to play the piano, and now Natalie knows that Lottie knows how to play because she offered to teach Shipman.
Van says she wants to go to a Radiohead concert, and Taissa complains that it's not even a real goal for the coming year. Then they argue, with Van saying, "Oh, excuse me for having a teenage goal while you want to become the most boring president of the United States!" This makes Taissa upset.
They eventually resolve their argument by sharing the same blanket near the bonfire.
Meanwhile, Natalie is lost in her thoughts, and the yellowjackets are so engrossed in discussing the games they'll have next year that they didn't question when she broke the circle of friendship around the bonfire to go inside the house.
She stops in the kitchen.
She examines the cabinets.
She realized that a significant portion of her memories has been locked inside a small cabinet with a glimpse of the outside.
Outside, her mother was agonizing, looking at her intensely.
And inside, Natalie was cursed for the rest of her life.
And it all comes again, again and again. Her knees tremble, fingers trace scars on her arms, and she feels dirty. Suddenly, her hands are stained with blood.
She's hallucinating.
She sees the blood, her fingers are sticky, and it feels too real. The screams echo in her head, and tears fill her eyes as a desperate Natalie forcefully drops the glass bottle into the sink.
Natalie has no idea that someone else broke the circle of friendship around the bonfire until she hears another voice in the kitchen.
"Nat?" Lottie calls her, but Natalie is hallucinating, and she hears Mrs. Scatorccio's voice. It frightens her, enough to close her eyes in desperate whispers. "You're not real. You're not real, mom. You're not here."
Hands on her face. Tense breaths. Natalie feels like that scared little girl again, except she's not inside a cramped kitchen cabinet this time. She feels vulnerable.
Oh, she's crying. She feels her fingers wet with what she believed to be her mother's blood. They are tears, not blood. And she only realizes this when Lottie is approaching her and holding her in her arms.
"It's okay. It's me, Natalie," Lottie reassures her, but it's so overwhelming that Scatorccio tries everything to break free from the embrace. "Don't touch me. Let go, damn it! Don't you dare touch me!" She says these words to her father, even though it's Lottie who is trying to keep her calm.
It's so creepy her bones almost bursting from the sensation of someone embracing her that Natalie wishes to shrink back to being small and crawl into that kitchen cabinet again.
And everything gets worse from there. Natalie shatters completely. She loses her strength, loses the will to fight when Lottie gently holds her wrists. Natalie hits her chest, and it must have hurt enough for Charlotte to hold her. "It's okay. You'll be okay. I got you." Lottie repeats countless times. “I got you, Nat .”
Natalie's arms grow tired, and her forehead rests against Matthews' chest.
The tears flow even more, the sobs become relentless, and the lamentations start pouring out. "Take your time, I'm here," Lottie whispers.
When Natalie looks into the depths of Lottie's eyes, all she can see is compassion emanating from them.
When Lottie looks into the depths of Natalie's eyes, all she can see is fear.
"Breathe deeply. It's not real, Nat. I am real. Do you see?" This is Lottie's code, after all. It's how Lottie reaches each one of these girls. It's by placing her hand in the middle of Natalie's chest, telling her to stay silent and breathe deeply to feel and hear her racing heart. It's Lottie assuring her that she's there, with those bright brown eyes. "Listen to your heart, make it calm down. Slowly... Breathe in deeply and release slowly."
And Natalie does. She obeys so effortlessly. Charlotte wipes away her tears, nodding in approval because Nat did what she asked. Their hands are clasped together.
Lottie's hand is on Natalie's chest, and Natalie's hand is trembling over Lottie's.
"Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing and listen to your heart." Once again, Natalie obeys, like a well-trained puppy. There's more silence. But it's a different kind of silence than what Natalie experienced in the trailer with her grandmother, different from the silence with Van in the room, and different from the awkward silence with Laura Lee.
This silence is... comforting. It's the kind of silence that Natalie appreciates.
But then comes the shrill noise of fireworks.
Oh, my God, it's 1997.
Natalie opens her eyes and finds Lottie looking at her. They could run outside, they could watch the fireworks together and not miss the beginning of the year.
But they don't do it.
Neither of them moves. They stand there, still.
Natalie embraces her. She hugs her so broken and intensely that if Lottie weren't strong enough , she would have lost her balance.
And well, Lottie hugs back. She embraces Natalie in the most compassionate way she could.
"Happy New Year, Nat."
Charlotte mumbles. They seem to engage in a battle of strength because neither of them actually let go of that tight embrace. Natalie doesn't want to let go of her. My goodness, she hates physical contact, but this one, in particular, is so personal to her that she simply doesn't want to let go.
Natalie Scatorccio had been breaking into millions of tiny pieces for years, fracturing from the day she was born.
Charlotte Matthews was also broken, and my God, how broken she was. However, Lottie manages to gather her own pieces while cutting her fingers trying to fit the remaining parts of Natalie. She cuts herself as she tries to assemble the dense and obscure pieces, and she cuts herself even more when she hugs her so intensely that it's as if her heart is being struck by a bad piece of Natalie.
It hurts. And it hurts overwhelmingly.
"Happy New Year, Lottie."