Chosen Family (Adopted By Scarlett Johansson)

Chapter 6

TWO WEEKS LATER- YOUR POV:

"Hey, Scarlett," I greet through the phone. I was lying on my bed studying when my phone rang. It's a warm September day; a cool breeze, but nothing like the cold autumns we had back where I'm from.

"Hey, honey. How's your day going?" This was typical. Scarlett has been calling me a lot more since the night of my panic attack. Some might call it hovering, but I'm starting to find comfort in it. Although, recently I've been debating whether or not I should tell her that I know who she is. I figured it out one night when I couldn't sleep and I was lying in bed. I freaked out at first, but it doesn't change who she is as a person. To me, she's just Scarlett.

"It's going okay, I've been reading and studying a lot to prepare for SATs."

"Already? I thought those were in the spring."

"My school does them in the fall— about a month from now. But I don't mind because I get the results back during winter break."

"Oh, okay. Are you nervous?"

"A bit, there's a lot riding on this. If I do bad, I can pretty much kiss college goodbye. A good one, anyway. I'm more nervous that I won't do as well as I did on the PSAT. "

"I'm sure you'll do great, sweetheart. Even if you don't, it isn't a big deal. You have your whole life ahead of you, remember that."

"Thanks, Scarlett."

"You don't have to thank me, Y / N. I've gotta get back to work now. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay, bye, mo- Scarlett." I hurriedly end the call. Was I about to call her mom? What the fu-

SCARLETT'S POV:
Did she just- "LIZZIE, get over here," I whisper-yell across the set. She looks at me with confusion plastered on her face before following me into my trailer.

"Scarlett, are you okay? What's going on?"

"I was just on the phone with Y / N and when we were saying goodbye, I think she almost called me mom!"

"Did she say 'mom'?"

"Well no, but there was a 'mo-', and then she said Scarlett instead, and hung up," I say, gesturing wildly with my hands.

"Look, Scar, I highly doubt she was gonna call you mom. Even if she did, kids accidentally call their teachers 'mom' all the time. It's not a big deal," Lizzie says cooly.

"Ugh, you're so ..." I trail off, not even knowing what I was trying to say. I sigh dramatically and shrug my shoulders. "I don't know, Liz. I just thought that maybe it meant I was getting somewhere with her."

"You are getting somewhere with her, Scarlett. Y / N went from giving you the cold shoulder to talking to you on the phone nearly every day. That's not nothing."

"You have a point," I mutter in agreement.

"I always do. Speaking of which, if you guys talk all the time, has she not asked what you do for a living?"

"Well, no, but ..." Wait, why hasn't she asked? "I don't know, maybe she's just afraid of being rude or nosy," I reason.

"Or ... maybe she already knows," Lizzie counters with a knowing look.

"What are you saying, Liz?"

"I just mean that she's a teenager and, in the nicest way possible, kind of a geek. I think she'd probably recognize a couple of Marvel actors."

"Don't call her a geek!" She gives me a pointed look. "I'm not disagreeing, but be nice," I add.

"Just think about it, Scarlett. She's been to your house, and I don't know if you've noticed, but it isn't exactly a shack in the woods. Even if she wasn't curious about your job before, she definitely was after seeing that you're, quite literally, loaded . "

"Dammit, Lizzie. Why couldn't you have pointed this stuff out before?"

"Honestly, I thought you would figure it out on your own. But apparently you're a bit slow sometimes," she quips with a smirk.

"Oh, screw you, Olsen."

THREE DAYS LATER- YOUR POV:

I picked up my phone to aimlessly scroll through TikTok when I noticed the date on the lock screen. Huh, yesterday was my birthday. I guess I forgot again. Oh, well. But this means I can finally take the test for my driver's license. I just have to send in the application and wait for them to give me a test date.

I jump out of bed and head to the other bedroom to start filling out the application. When I walk in, I see Nick and Adley hugging, with tears streaming down Adley's face.

"Hey, guys, what's wrong? What's with the waterworks?"

"I turn 18 in four days, and my social worker is taking me out of here today. She didn't feel the need to wait until the actual day, so ..."

"Oh my god, Nick ..." 

"I know, I know. I'm really gonna miss you guys," he says with a somber smile.

"We're gonna miss you, too, Nick. And don't worry about us, I'll keep her safe," I whisper the last part so Adley can't hear. I try not to sugarcoat things for her, but I also don't want her to worry any more than she has to.

"I trust you, Y / N. Promise you'll call if you need anything."

"Promise," I agree. A knock on the front door interrupts our moment, and Nick slings his bag over his shoulder and walks downstairs. I sit next to Adley at the top of the stairs as we watch him go. There used to be four of us; two got out, and now two of us are stuck here. I'm not bitter. If anything, I'm happy for them. I just wish there was something more I could do to keep Adley safe.

After a couple of hours of consoling Adley while she cried over Nick's departure, she finally fell asleep. I print off the application and begin filling it out. I don't know what happened, but after a few minutes, I break down. Whether it be Nick leaving or my parents not being here through this big moment, I can't handle it anymore. I cry. Just a few stray teardrops at first, but then the damn breaks.

I go to the bathroom so I don't disturb Adley. I sit on the cold tile floor for twenty minutes until I pull myself together. I stand up, rinse my face, and go back to the bedroom like nothing had happened.

I finish filling out the application and put a stamp on the envelope. I put it in my backpack to mail it tomorrow.

I pull out the lockbox from under my bed and put in the code, which is Adley's birthday (creative, I know). I grab the cash and count it: $237.

I lock it back up and log into my savings account on my phone, which has the money from the fights. In total, I have $ 8,629. That's good, I can buy a car with that. It might not be the nicest vehicle, but as long as it drives, I don't really care.

I spend the next two hours looking at used cars online. I'm about ready to quit and go to bed when I see a black 1969 Camaro for $5,000. Oh, hell yeah. Now that's what I'm talking about. It's a manual, which is fine. I learned to drive a stick when I was like 10 because I used to work on a farm and all of the equipment was manual.

I send the owner a message and he replies twenty minutes later: it's all mine. It does need some work, but that won't be a problem— I know a bit about cars. We agree that I will go pick it up in three weeks: he's out of town right now and I should have my license by then. I excitedly pump my fists in the air and (quietly) jump around the room. I've been waiting for this since I got my permit.

I pull out my phone and start typing out a text to Scarlett. I stop halfway through and delete the message, deciding against it. Why would I tell her that I'm buying a car? Why would she even care? And most importantly, why do I want her to care? I sigh and run a hand over my face. How did my life turn into this?