"Can you save
Can you save my
Can you save my heavy dirty soul...?"
___
When it rains, it pours.
And the rain starts coming down that night.
That night of Royce's detention.
Her first detention.
Ever.
"Quiet? Okay, maybe. Maybe sometimes. But, silence...? You guys are never silent."
Mrs. Theresa Greene doesn't receive an answer. Instead, all three of her children still at home look up from their meals at the dinner table, smile softly at their mother, and turn back to their plates.
"Okay," Theresa says, dropping her fork and resting her head on folded hands, "What's going on?"
Tobe answers. "Nothing, ma."
"Don't lie to me, boy. You might as well spill--all of you--before Daddy gets home."
"Really," he chuckles. "It's nothing."
Paige plays with the food on her plate. "Royce got sent to detention today."
"Royce!"
She sucks in a sharp, angry breath. "So much for staying out of my fucking business."
"Royce," her mother snaps. "Don't you bring that cussin' around my table."
She drops her eyes. "Sorry, I--"
"Save it. Start talking, young lady. Why'd you get sent to detention?"
"I threw a drink in a girl's face."
"What?" Theresa blinks back a laugh. "Royce..."
"Only 'cause she called us a shit show," Tobe finishes. He shrugs, "In her defense."
"Look at that," Paige's lips curl disdainfully. "Always defending Royce."
"Well," he sniffs, "someone's got to."
"What's that supposed to mean, Tobe!?"
He shrugs again, biting into the food on his fork. "Whatever you want it to mean, big sis."
"Enough!" Theresa turns back to her middle daughter. "Royce, don't you dare make a habit out of this."
"I--"
"Won't if she stops creeping around with Calum Hood."
Royce tears into the chicken on her fork. "Or, I'll answer Mom because your damn name isn't Royce."
"Calum? Why does she keep bringing him up?"
"'Cause she's fucking obsessed with my boyfriend, Tobes."
"Obsessed!? Ha! I'm not obsessed with the idiot ruining my sister's reputation!"
Theresa slams her palms upon the table. "Okay, that is quite enough! That's it! All of you, just--" She groans, running her hands tiredly across her face. "I liked it better when you all were silent."
Paige lifts her glass slowly to her lips, "I liked it better when my little sister wasn't messing around with a drug dealer..."
"Paige! What'd I say?"
"Sorry, Mommy, it's just--"
"You always have to have the last word," Tobe chuckles humorlessly. "Don't you, Paige?"
"Shut up, Tobe."
"See? There you go."
"Could you drop it?!"
"But, can you?"
"But, Royce," Theresa turns her stricken face instantly to her younger daughter, "Please tell me you are not dating a drug dealer--?"
"I'm not!"
She sighs loudly, "Hallelujah, thank god."
Paige purses her lips. "That's not what everyone says..."
"He isn't! Look," Royce pushes herself from the table. "Can I be excused?"
"Well, I..." And Theresa nods. "Go to your room, Royce."
"What?!" Paige exclaims at one, throwing her hand towards her sister's retreating figure, "If I got detention, or if I threw a drink in one of Royce's friend's faces, I'd be grounded for a week."
"Right," Theresa smiles kindly. She turns to Royce. "Well?" She asks.
And Royce pauses. "Well, what?"
"Well? Did she deserve it?"
Royce actually can't help the smile breaking across her face.
"Mommy," she nods, "it had been a long time coming."
__
Royce stares at the number scribbled across her planner.
She sits on her bed and lets her mind drift back the last conversation she'd had with Calum's friend.
The one with the hair.
The one who had given her information.
Information about Emma.
"Here's her number," he'd said, right before he'd been accosted by Luke in the hallways. Right before the boys decided to show up at her house. "She might not answer, 'cause, well, that's just who she is...but she's always at The Diner. That's where she goes after school some days."
If Royce hadn't gotten detention, she'd have gone out there today after school. She'd have driven to the little restaurant and waited until she met the blonde.
The blonde ruining her boyfriend's life.
Or, so it seemed.
Because Royce wasn't done trying to figure out where she knew this girl from. She wasn't resolved--something about not quite realizing her ties to this girl was making her crazy.
And she was going to figure this shit out.
Besides, it was the perfect distraction.
This mystery was what she needed--it was what she needed to keep her mind off of this shit with her sister and her new shit reputation at school and her dropping morale for homework and her new caught-up feelings for this boy and the fact that her biological mother wasn't done trying to reach out.
This, she thought, was exactly what she'd rather think about. Instead of school. Instead of homework. Instead of talking to Paige.
You really think you can keep a drug-dealer's daughter out of trouble?
Apparently, Mikey promised he'd take care of her for Snake--
Between Calum and Tobe and now, Michael, Royce thought she had a real lead. She had some real, tangible evidence about a real girl who said she real-life knew her.
And the more Royce thought about it, the more she decided that this 'Emma' might be telling some semblance of the truth.
It rains throughout the night.
So, it's wet and flooding outside of St. Augustine's the following morning. That was the shitty thing about Seattle: it rained so much, they never got school days off.
But, at least everyone was too depressed by the weather to talk about Royce--well, not loud enough so she could hear, anyway.
Zayn was partly right.
Things had blown over.
Kind of.
At least, the next day, all those stupid kids at school had more to talk about than Royce and Paige and that lunch. At least they had Jesse Fisher's party to talk about, too.
"We've got to go."
"To what?" Royce snorts.
"That party," Lola grits, as the girls convene at their lockers. "We've got to go to that damn party."
"Ha--!" Laughs Kennedy. "For what?"
"To stunt on the haters," Lola states. "That's what."
"Jokes," Kennedy snorts. "I'm sick of all these bitches. I don't give a fuck about stunting on them."
"We deserve to have some fun, y'know."
Royce laughs, "What fun am I going to have with Jesse?"
"You mean, what fun could we possibly have with Jesy or Jade?" Kennedy clarifies.
And Royce nods. "What she said."
"I still say we should go," Lola shrugs, staring at the bright polish on her nails. "I mean, if we're gonna be the bad guys why not show up, right? If people are gonna talk about us, then let's give them all something real to say."
"Fuck. I fucking hate the rain."
"Might wanna get out of Seattle, then."
Calum was over this fucking weather.
"Thanks, Lols," laughs Ashton. "I'm trying."
"Really?" She lifts a brow. "Are you, now?"
"Yeah," he grins, pushing her against the lockers. "I'm going back to Australia. Almost forgot to tell you, babe: you're coming with me."
On top of it being wet, and grey, and dark, Calum had made a terrible promise.
He was supposed to bring Royce to see her mom.
And he knew that shit wouldn't blow over well.
He can barely think straight, let alone listen to Lola and Ashton's disgusting flirting. He was too preoccupied. He kept staring at the text.
The one he'd received that morning.
The one from Dina.
The one telling him the exact time and the exact place where she'd expect to meet them.
He knew Royce would be pissed.
He knew she'd probably hate him for this.
But he'd taken the money for Kennedy and it was too late to go backwards. It was too late to change anything. It was too late to not play at the club; it was too late to get out of the club before the cops showed up; it was too late to never meet Emma; it was too late to not get sent to jail; it was too late to change his reputation.
It was too late to've never met Royce.
And now, it seems like all this shit in his past had caught up completely to his present, because Dina was the one thing in Royce's life that represented all the shit she herself was trying to run from, and here he was about to win the 'best-boyfriend-award' and bring her face-to-face with all that shit.
And it was eating him alive.
"Dude, you okay?"
"What?" He looked up at once, staring into Ashton's confused face as he leaned against his locker, Lola beside him.
"You're quiet."
"S'what happens when people don't talk all the goddamn time, Ash."
Ashton laughs aloud, shrugging. "Fuck you, dude. You're never this quiet."
"Sure I am," Calum shrugs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "You're just too busy with Lola to notice me anymore."
She snorts, scoffing. "Fuck you, Calum."
"Eh, but," Ashton shrugs again, giggling, "He's right."
"It's fucking disgusting."
"Ignored," Lola replies, causing the boys to laugh.
"Hey," Ashton claps him hard upon his back, "I may have less time for you--"
Calum snorts.
"--but I love you, dude," he wags his finger in his face, "And you look like you're gonna be sick."
Calum jerks backwards, out of his grip. "I don't."
"Yeah, you do. You're all...twitchy. Jumpy and shit. Like...like you're gonna piss yourself."
"More like," Lola eyed him through those dark green eyes, "More like, you look like you've got a secret."
"Lola," Calum snorts, "I don't have a secret."
"You're sure?" She asks, lips pursed, "You're sure about that, Calum?"
"I...I mean..."
"Well?" Lola raises an eyebrow. "You got something to get off your chest?"
And with a loud groan, Calum scrubs his face with both hands. "Fuck you, Lola..." He murmurs, as she and Ashton eye each other, "Yes," he admits. "Yes, I fucking do."
"Well you're in luck," Lola grins, "I can actually keep a secret."
"Luke says they're going off campus to eat," Kennedy says, as the bell rings for their break and the girls gather around their lockers. "They're getting pizza. We going?"
"Hell yes," Royce nods. "I'd rather be anywhere but here."
By the middle of the day -- lunch -- Royce decides to not even fuck around with eating in the cafeteria. She's been avoiding her sister in the halls, not even bothering to make eye contact. Jesy and Jade and the rest of the cheerleaders -- Paige's friends -- might as well not even exist to her. She sits in class and does her work and only speaks when she's spoken to, because there's nothing Paige can say to her that can outweigh an apology.
"With it," Lola nods.
"They're already outside," Kennedy laughs, as she reads more incoming texts from Luke. "It's pouring outside, too," she adds, eyeing Royce's hair. "Heads up."
And at once, Royce slaps a hand to her forehead. "And I left my fucking umbrella in Chem," she exclaims. "I swear to fucking god---"
"Go get it," Kennedy shoos her in the direction of the labs. "Or you're gonna be pissed you fucked up your weave."
"True,"
Royce power walks towards the chemistry rooms, stopping in the classroom she'd just left.
She goes straight to her vacant seat and finds her umbrella exactly where she'd left it--propped against the leg of the desk.
She grabs the patterned umbrella. "There you are."
"Wow. You two're really going at it, huh?"
She jumps, nearly knocking over the stools. "Zayn!" She swats the older boy with the umbrella. "Way to give me a heart attack, man!"
He chuckles, pinching his bottom lip to hide the fullness of his smile. "Sorry," he replies, although he doesn't sound all that sorry. "Just saw you walk in here," he leans casually against the desk, "so I thought I'd say hi."
She leans towards him.
"Hi," she says, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket. It's got to be her friends, telling her to hurry up. She heads from the classroom, waving over her shoulder, "Now, goodbye."
"Goodbye?" Zayn trails after her. "And here I was, thinking we were friends."
She lifts a brow. "Detention friends?"
"What else could we be at this point?"
"Fake friends," Royce replies, "'Cause my sister might have a heart attack herself if she saw you talking to me."
"Nah. She wouldn't."
"You sound so fucking sure."
"'Cause I am. She'd love it if we were friends," he snorts, running a hand across his neck, "Might even make her lemme take her out."
Royce halts her steps in the empty hallway. "I'm sorry, come again?"
"Nothing," he says quickly. "Look," and that smirk returns, "you guys need to talk."
Royce chortles, rolling her eyes and spinning on her heel. "Just 'cause we're paint friends doesn't mean you get to tell me how to be a 'good sister,'" she drops her hands from their use of air quotes. "Zayn."
"Hey," he shrugs, "you're right."
"You're damn right I'm right."
He chuckles. " But," and he reaches out, grabbing her shoulder, "don't forget: she wants the best for you," he says earnestly, "even if you can't see it."
Royce scoffs again. "Honestly, I'm surprised she hasn't disowned you."
He reels backwards. "What do you mean?"
"You aren't exactly popular, Mr. Bad Boy. So naturally, Paige shouldn't allow herself to be seen with you."
And she jogs off, leaving Zayn alone in the hallways.
She had to get to her friends.
She had to get off this campus.
Royce was going to lunch.
The day drags on.
This whole 'detention' thing really threw a wrench in Royce's plans. She'd been trying to figure out where the fuck she knew Emma from, and just like that, just when she'd actually thought she was getting close, she had to fuck around and toss a drink in Jesy Nelson's face.
Iconic.
But, today?
Today, she didn't have to clean paint.
Today, she was out of school at the first bell and she was ready to go. She was so ready. She was so out of here.
She was so anticipating real answers.
"Where are you going?"
"Anywhere," Royce groans, as Calum meets her at her mom's car. "Just not home yet."
"Wanna come with me?" He asks. "You know," he grins, "since you're avoiding your shit like you usually do."
"Ha ha," she rolls her eyes, groaning as he laughs. "Fuck you, because I'm actually not--"
"Avoiding Paige?" Calum lifts an eyebrow.
"Exactly. I'm not avoiding Paige."
"Sure, Royce."
"I mean, I'm not not avoiding her, okay?"
"Fucking liar--"
"Okay, sue me," she exclaims as he laughs harder. "Who are you, the fucking police today?"
"Always, babe. And I kinda have a thing for bad girls."
"Good thing my man's corrupted me."
"You keep saying that," Calum grins, "but I still don't believe you."
She rises to her toes, kissing his cheek. "Not gonna touch that."
He laughs.
"But, anyway," she shakes her head, "I've gotta get some stuff done, so..."
"Yeah, I get it," he grins. "Overachiever shit. Typical."
"I love how you support me."
He laughs aloud. "We're a team, girl."
And as Royce laughs, joining him, a small twinge of guilt hits her gut.
She should tell Calum where she was going, right?
Should she?
Because in this moment, all she could do was hear his voice in her head, "Can you honestly say that keeping important shit to yourself isn't the same as lying?"
He closes the driver's side door behind her, though.
"Have fun," he grins. And his expression suddenly changes as he runs his hand across his face. "I've got...Fuck--I've actually got shit to do, too."
"Yeah? Okay," Royce nods, because maybe this was a sign for her to just keep her mouth shut and not bother him with this news about Emma, today. "Okay," she grins, gripping the steering wheel. "See you later, yeah?"
"'Course."
"Call me?"
"So needy."
"Bye."
"Love you, too," he grins, giggling softly.
"You're lucky you're cute," Royce replies. "Annoying," she nods. "But, cute."
He kisses her quickly on her forehead. "I'll call you tonight."
"Thank you."
"Now, go," he says. "Spread your overachieving wings. Fly, Royce. Fly."
"Goodbye, Calum," she laughs, rolling her eyes. "Good. Bye."
Royce drives across town, heater cranked up high in her mom's car as she winds down tree-lined streets towards The Diner; The Reptile Room; the side of town she used to know very well.
And she pulls up to the little diner and parks across the street, cutting the engine and grabbing her purse and jumping from the car, into the rain.
She runs into The Diner.
She's hit by the immediate, distinct smell of coffee and pancakes. When her dad used to bring her and Chris when they were little, she used to love ordering their all-day breakfast and a milkshake.
Gross, but back then, it was so good.
She takes a look around the small restaurant, searching for any sign of the blonde.
There are only a few people inside, today. Grant it, it's 4:15 on a weekday, but the place is rather barren.
Must be the rain.
Royce slides onto the first stool at the bar. She leaves her hood up, despite being dry, because she knows that at any moment one of the waitresses could notice her and blow the cover she's attempting to keep.
And she pulls out her cell phone, quickly dialing the number Michael had given her.
The number for Emma.
She sits her phone face up on the table, and waits.
The dial tone sounds.
Once.
Twice.
And, she hears it.
Ring, that familiar iPhone ringtone sounding through the small space.
Royce jumps to her feet.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
And she follows the sound, the tone leading her to the corner in the back, the one housing a singular booth where a tiny figure is sat, their hooded head leaned against the window as their eyes stare confusedly at the unknown number flashing across their screen.
Royce slides into the booth, sitting across from the girl.
"Emma?"
Those eyes snap to Royce's, brows pulling tighter. "Who're you?"
"Royce," she responds calmly. "And you're Emma."
Emma's eyebrow hikes sharply. "How do you..." And she smirks, "Oh. Oh, I know you."
"Yeah. You do."
"You're Calum's girl. You're the one he's all lovey-dovey for."
"He'd better be," Royce replies lightly, and that garners a laugh from the other girl. "But, that's not where I know you from," she asks, "is it?"
Emma picks at her nails. "Dunno, chick."
"Yeah, Emma. I think you do."
"Sound pretty sure about that, princess," she sneers. "What would I know about some girl from The Bluffs, hmm?"
"Just because I live there doesn't mean that's where I'm from," Royce clarifies. And she leans back against the booth, crossing her arms. "How's your dad?"
Emma's eyes flash angrily. "What're you, the police?" Emma sneers, grabbing her phone and sliding from the booth. "I'm out of here."
"Is your favorite color still pink?"
Emma pauses, hesitating. "What's your fucking deal?"
"You still eat strawberry milkshakes? Cherries, last?"
"What the fuck--?"
"You still have a crush on Christian Greene?"
"I never--" Emma blushes red, sliding back into the booth.
Royce laughs.
"Okay," and Emma leans forward, clenching her fists on the table. "First of all, I was a kid. I was a baby practically when I met Chris, okay? So shut the fuck up. Secondly," she scowls, "how the fuck could you possibly know that?"
"Because," Royce hisses back, "my dad was the one who used to bring you here. My dad was the one who'd tell us ghost stories about hospitals when he was studying for his MCAT and still taking care of his kids. My dad was the one who had the wife in the same rehab facility as your dad."
Emma blinks. "You mean..."
"Royce is my middle name," she states. "My first name is--"
"Poppy," Emma nods.
And, for the first time that day, she smiles. "I fucking knew you looked familiar."
"Yeah, well..." Royce runs a hand across her face, "We've all got to grow up sometime."
Emma snorts. "My dad got clean and started selling. At least your mom got clean and left it for good."
"Yeah. I wouldn't know."
And Emma frowns. Royce can tell she's about to press her for information, but before she can change the subject, the blonde has turned her attention elsewhere.
"Hey," Emma turns, pointing out the water-splattered window, "Isn't that your man?"
Royce blinks.
And she stares.
And she nods.
Because yes. Yes, that is her man.
"I..." She grits, her fists clenching on the table. "Yeah. Sure fucking is."
Emma giggles, reaching for her milkshake.
"Dude," the blonde begins, "what's he doing, talking to your mom?"
____
oop.
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heavy dirty soul || twenty-one pilots