CHAPTER NINE

december 31, 1970

A GROUP OF FIVE are gathered around a small television set. The New York NYE broadcast plays on the screen, and each of the five has their eyes trained on it — as if they'd miss the transition from 1970 to 1971 if they looked away.

Danny, Mary, and Angus share one couch — the boys pressed to the sides to allow Mary the entire middle of the couch to do with as she pleases. Esther and Hunham take the other. The two teenagers sit at the spot where the two couches make one corner, basically next to each other if not for the armrests and side table.

Mary sighs. "Man, I sure do wish we had some noisemakers," she says, looking wistfully at the crowd of happy faces on the television.

"What do you mean?" Esther says. "You got two of 'em right here." She sticks out a thumb and wiggles it around, pointing it at herself, then Angus, then herself, then Angus.

Angus leans forward, pulling something out of his pocket. "I've got a noisemaker." It's a firework. Esther can't even pretend to be surprised,

"Where the hell did you get that?" Hunham asks.

The boy shrugs, still looking at his explosive. "I don't know. Found it."

Hunham holds out his hand. "Well, you're not deploying that in here," he says. Angus frowns and deposits the firework into Hunham's palm.

"You know, you weren't this uptight in Boston," he comments. "Danny, where do you stand on indoor fireworks?"

"About as far away as I can."

His speed and deadpan delivery make both Esther and Hunham crack up. "That's very wise," Hunham says. He looks back at the television set just in time for the countdown to begin. "Oh, we're gonna miss it. Come on. Up on your feet!"

The group all stand up and join in on the countdown at five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Happy New Year!"

Danny presses a kiss to Mary's cheek and, for just a second, Esther and Angus lock eyes before turning away to the adults at their sides. Esther exchanges a handshake with Hunham, wishing him a Happy New Year. Angus and Mary hug. Danny and Hunham shake hands, and all goes back to normal.

"Now, as I say, we're not deploying this in here," Hunham says, holding the firework out in front of him. Angus nods. "No. We're going to light this sucker off in the kitchen," he finishes.

Esther and Angus' eyes light up. "We are?" Esther asks. Hunham heads out of the living room, Angus following after him, and Esther clambers over the back of the sofa to match their speed.

The boys crowd into the small kitchen and prepare to light the explosive, while Danny, Mary, and Esther remain in the hallway — a safe distance away. Hunham flicks his lighter and holds the small flame to the fuse. When it lights, Angus tosses it away from him.

It explodes with a loud BANG and a flash of white light, making Esther cover her ears and give herself a stitch from laughing so hard at Hunham and Angus' pained reactions.

january 1, 1971

Only a few hours later, when Esther and Angus should be sleeping, they bump into each other in the hall.

"Oh, sorry," Esther says, shuffling to the side to let the boy pass.

"Yeah, thanks," Angus says. He takes one step and then turns back. "Oh, Happy New Year."

Esther nods. "You said that already," she tells him. "I think, anyway," she continues, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

He shrugs. "I mean, I said it to the group. Not individually."

She'll accept that. "Well, then Happy New Year back at you." She goes to pass, on her way back to the Right Room, when Angus stops her again.

"Hey, just tell me if I'm misreading signals, but when the clock hit midnight, were—"

Esther doesn't give him a chance to finish his sentence, because she knows exactly what he's about to say. She crosses back over to him and reaches up, pulling him down to her height by the back of his neck. She kisses him — the first boy she's kissed since her Dad died — and when he puts a hand on her waist, her heart flutters.

This feels right, Esther thinks. This kiss with this boy that she'll probably never, ever see again.

He pulls away, a little breathless.

"Goodnight, Angus."

❈❈❈

january 2, 1971

Woodrup calls a meeting. Because, of course, a meeting is how one is meant to communicate with their own stepdaughter. Esther strides through the halls of a newly repopulated Barton, ignoring the looks the boys throw at her. She's dressed nice today, despite the weather. After all, she'll be leaving and may as well look pretty when she gets home. Her tan trench coat lays in the crook of her elbow, so she's only wearing a red turtleneck, a short black skirt, some black boots, and a pair of thick tights to keep the cold out.

She comes to a stop at Hunham's office door, where she debates knocking, then throws caution to the wind and enters without.

"Alright, Hardin. What do you w—?" she begins, but before she can finish the word, she lays eyes on a couple sitting on Woodrup's tacky red couch. She goes still. "Oh, hi."

Woodrup, sitting in the armchair next to the couple, sighs at her. "Esther, this is Judy and Stanley Clotfelter. Judy and Stanley — my stepdaughter, Esther."

Esther flips her amicable personality switch on. She approaches the couple, extending her hand to shake theirs. They both reciprocate.

"What is this about?" she asks, suddenly nervous.

"Your trip to Boston," Woodrup replies.

Fuck.

Esther nods, playing coy about the whole thing. "Oh, yeah. It was lovely this time of year. I got to go skating and everything."

"Esther, cut the crap." Woodrup smacks his hands down on the arms of his chair. "You visited Mister Tully's father, didn't you?"

She flounders for a second, unsure of what the adults in the room know. Finally, she sighs, sinking down into the second black armchair. "It was my idea."

"I— what?"

Esther shuffles in her seat, trying to play guilty and regretful. "Angus had told me that his father died, and... my father, he is dead. September, '69." She glances around to see the reactions she's receiving. Not much, just yet. "When I found out that his father wasn't dead, I urged him to go visit. We were in the right city, anyway. You know, if I could have one more hour with my Dad, I'd take it. I just thought he should take that opportunity. See his father for the holidays. It's my fault, whatever he did that was wrong."

Woodrup is momentarily speechless. "Okay, Esther, you can go. But we are speaking about this later," he finally says.

"I'm sure we are," Esther murmurs as she stands up. "I'm sorry, again," she says, directing the statement at Angus' mother and stepfather.

She heads for the door, pushing it open to reveal Hunham and Miss Crane waiting in the hallway. The door swings shut behind her and she takes the few steps to close the gap between her and the teacher. "I took the fall. Don't say anything," she whispers.

Miss Crane ushers Hunham into the room and turns to head back out. Esther falls back against the wall, scrunching up her face.

"What'd you say?"

The girl nearly jumps a foot in the air. She didn't realise that Angus was right there, sitting in the window's alcove. "Don't do that!" she hisses. After taking a second to slow her racing heart, she replies, "I told them that I convinced you to visit your dad. Tried to pull a few heartstrings with my dead Dad story."

"Thanks," Angus says. "I don't know if it'll work."

"Well, it will if Hunham backs my story up," Esther says, coming to sit next to him. She leans back against the cold window. "You know, I'd care," she blurts out.

Angus looks at her, confused. "What?"

"If you got kicked out, sent to you-know-where." She shrugs. "I'd care."

Angus' features soften. He stops staring at the floor and turns to look Esther in the eyes. "You've known me for two weeks," he says.

"So?" Esther asks.

Footsteps interrupt the conversation and the teenagers lean forward to see Miss Crane leading Mary down the hallway. Miss Crane filters off, leaving Mary by her lonesome. Angus deflates as he looks her in the eyes. "My Mom and Stanley are here," he explains.

"Lydia told me," Mary replies.

Angus drops his gaze. "I think I'm going to get kicked out. That means military school."

The three wallow in silence for a good, long moment before Mary approaches the bench. Esther shuffles over, making room between the pair of teenagers for her to sit. Mary extends each of her hands. Angus and Esther each take one.

Mary makes certain not to squeeze Esther's fucked up finger too hard.

They stay like that until Hunham leaves the room — nobody knows if it's one minute or five or fifty. They just sit there, acknowledging the situation they're all in.

When Hunham does return, he looks at the three of them and lets out a breath. He seems lighter, freer. He locks eyes with Angus and points at his right eye. "It's this one. This is the one you should look at."

And then he leaves.

Woodrup opens his office door again and calls Angus in, and with no real reason for her to stick around, Esther stands up and leaves, bidding Mary goodbye as she goes. She shrugs her coat on and belts it around her middle, descending the steps and heading for the front door.

She nearly makes a clean break when she hears her name called from down the hall. When she turns around, she nearly falls over.

Jason Smith, in the flesh, hair buzzed short.

"Who did this to you?" she asks, speedwalking toward him. She can't help but reach out to touch the short strands.

He shakes her off. "I did. Don't you like it?"

Esther laughs. "I do like it, but do you know what I'd like more?"

Jason rolls his eyes. "A helicopter?"

"You know me well," Esther says, grinning wide.

He shakes his head at her. "So, you heading home?" he asks.

Esther draws in a breath. "Home of sorts," she says. She trails off, pulls a notebook and pencil out of her pocket and jots down some numbers. "Just in case I lose yours," she explains as she passes it over.

Her phone number, her address, and an added note to Pass this on to Angus :)

Jason tucks the page into his blazer pocket. He gives her a quick side hug before they say their goodbyes. "Keep in touch!" he calls out. Esther gives him a thumbs-up as she pushes her way out of the large front doors.

She's got a long solo drive to Boston if she wants to make it there by ten.

Neither Woodrup nor her mother knew this part of the plan that Esther had concocted for the holiday period. That she'd packed way too much for a two-week stay for a reason.

Esther's moving out, bitches.

a/n:
why am i emotional rn???

question time: if you could live anywhere in the world, where would you go?

i really love where i live now, but if i HAD to move, i'm going for new york city. i love the hustle and bustle of city life, plus having broadway being RIGHT there within reach? i need it.

published: december 25, 2024
word count: 2k