Finding Hiccup - Modern!Au ✔️

eleven

I mean, Heather has a point.
But Mum has a point too. Everyone has a point.
After she went for that run with Mum, Heather spent the next ten hours playing computer games. Ten hours solid. Mum and Dad were out all day with Snotlout, taking him to a series of birthday parties, and they told Heather to do her homework while they were out and Heather said yes and then she logged on and that was it.
Now it's Sunday morning and Mum is at tennis and Dad is doing something in the garden and I'm watching telly in the den when Heather appears at the door.
"Hey."
"Hey." My dark glasses are already on and I don't turn my head.
"Listen, Henry, Ally is going to be spending a lot of time at our house. I think you should get to know her. She's on my LOC team."
I've already stiffened a little at the words Ally and get to know her.

"Why do I need to get to know her?" I counter.
"She feels weird coming to our house. Like, what happened the other day? When you ran away? It freaked her out a bit."
I scowl at Heather. I don't want to be reminded.
"She doesn't need to feel weird," I say, wrapping my arms round my knees.
"Well, she does. She thinks she upset you."
"Well, tell her. You know. About..."
"I have."
"Well then."
There's silence. Heather still doesn't look happy.
"If Ally doesn't want to come to our house, she might join another LOC team," she says. "And she's really good."
"Who else is on the team?" I swivel round to face Heather.
"These two girls from school. Ellie and Anna. They play online. But Ally and I are like the strategists. We're going to enter the LOC International Tournament, and the qualifiers are on July eighteenth, so we need a ton of practice. The prize pot is six million dollars."
"What?" I stare up at her.
"Seriously."
"You win six million dollars? Just for playing LOC?"
"Not 'just' for playing LOC," says Heather impatiently. "It's the new spectator sport." She looks more animated than I've seen her for ages. "They're holding it in Toronto and they're building like this massive stadium, and everyone's flying in. It's big money. This is what Mum and Dad don't get. These days, being a gamer is a career choice."
"Right," I say dubiously. I went to a careers fair at school.
I didn't see anyone sitting at a stall under a sign, 𝗕𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗔 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥!

"So you need to make Ally feel comfortable here," Heather finishes. "I can't lose her off my team."
"Can't you go to her house?"
Heather shakes her head. "We tried. Her granny's there. She's got some dementia thing. She won't leave us alone. She shouts and she cries and sometimes she doesn't know who Ally is, and she keeps taking everything out of the freezer. They, like, have to watch her all the time. Ally has to do all her homework at school."
"Right." I digest this. "Poor Ally. Well...you know. Tell her it's all fine."
"She asked for your number, but..." Heather shrugs.
"Right."
I don't have a phone number at the moment. Just to add to the party, I've become phone-averse. Not phobic, just averse.
Which Heather will never understand in a million years.
She heads off and I switch over to You've Been Framed. Snotlout comes in to watch it with me and we snuggle up on the sofa together. Snotlout is like a walking, talking teddy bear. He's soft and snuggly and if you press him in the tummy he laughs, every time. His head is a curly mass of brown like chocolate and his face is constantly open and hopeful. You feel like nothing must ever go wrong for him, ever.
Which is, I guess, how Mum and Dad felt about me.
"So, how's school, Sam?" I say. "Are you still friends with Felix?"
"Felix has chicken pops," he tells me.
"Chicken pox?"
"Chicken pops," he corrects me, as though I'm an idiot. "Chicken pops."

"Oh, right." I nod. "I hope you don't get them."
"I will fight the chicken pops with my sword," he says importantly. "I'm a very strong fighter."
I take off my dark glasses and look into his round, open little face. Snotlout is the only one I can cope with looking at, eye to eye. My parents' eyes—forget it. They're full of worry and fear and too much knowledge. And kind of too much love, if that makes sense? If I look at them, it's like it all comes flooding back over me in a gush—mingled in with their anger, which is pretty righteous. I mean, it's not directed at me, obviously, but still. It feels toxic.
Heather's eyes are just a little freaked out every time she looks at me. It's like, Help, my brother went nuts, what should I do? She doesn't want to be freaked out, but she is. Well, of course she is. Her brother hides inside and wears dark glasses—what else could she be?
But Snotlout's brown eyes are as transparent and clear and soothing as a bar of chocolate. He knows pretty much nothing except the fact that he's Snotlout.
"Hello, you," I say, and press my face close against his.
"Hello, you." He squashes up even closer. "Do you want to build a snowman?"
Snotlout has a bit of a Frozen obsession, for which I don't blame him. I can relate to Queen Elsa myself. Only I'm not sure I'm going to melt the ice away by some random act of love. Chip it away with an ice pick, more like.
"Henry." I hear Heather's voice. "Ally is here. She sent you this."
My dark glasses are back on as I raise my head from Snotlout. Heather is holding out a folded sheet of paper.
"Oh," I say, nonplussed, and take it from her. "OK."