LABYRINTH | Scarlett Johansson x Daughter

20 | bye, barbie.

It's been thirteen days since my parents funeral and no, I didn't give a eulogy. My auntie did it instead. I don't think I would have lasted more than a few words without sending myself into another panic attack in front of a dozen people. That, in the end was my deciding factor against doing it. I could have said a few nice things about my parents and a part of me wanted to, but logically speaking that would never have been able to happen. Not without making a complete idiot of myself.

Since then, I lost my job because the deli I worked at burnt down a few days after. I decided to give up on applying to Art School because there's no way in hell I'm going to have my portfolio done in time. I helped set up the Christmas tree with Sam and Ryan considering we're now in the first week of December, and I'm pretty certain I've ghosted Marty long enough for him to never want to speak to me again.

A positive though, is that the boy I accidentally slept with at that Halloween party has coincidently become a new friend. So, at least I'm not totally alone at school.

"One more?"

"No, you have to get ready to meet Scarlett and I have to go home before my parents notice I'm missing," the curly haired, brunette who's name I now know is Oliver replies with a light chuckle.

"Please, we can be quick?" I pout, turning onto my left side and propping myself up on my elbow. "Don't give me that face," he playfully warns.
"What face? I'm not giving you a face."
"You are so."
"Am not. You're imagining things," I giggle, once again throwing a leg over his lap.

For a moment I think he's given in as he grabs me by the waist and flips me over onto my back. I let out a quiet squeal of excitement, but then he climbs off the bed and reaches for his pants.

"Asshole," I say, standing up after him and giving him a light shove to the arm. 

Once we both have our pyjamas back on—yes, he did come over in them—I go to walk him out.
I'm startled when I realise Sam and Ryan are standing in the kitchen which happens to be right across from my bedroom.

They don't know I invited Oliver over in the middle of the night, so trying to keep the suspicion at a low, I send them both a small smile.
A confused look rests on both their faces but I try to ignore it and gently place a hand on Oliver's back to guide him to the front door.

"I'll see you Monday?" He queries, stepping outside. "Yeah, I'll see you then," I confirm. "Thanks for coming over."

"Anytime," he smiles lightly. "Bye, Barbie."

I giggling lightly at the nickname as I wave him off before shutting the front door and dreadfully making my way back to my bedroom.
My plan to avoid both Sam and Ryan instantly fails the second I'm back in their sight.

"I think we should probably talk about the fact you snuck a boy into your room," Ryan states, leaning over the kitchen counter as he sips on what I assume is already his second cup of coffee this morning. He's a big coffee drinker.

"I didn't sneak him in. He came and left through the front door," I correct, quirking an eyebrow as I reach for my bedroom door handle.
"At what time of night? We were up past twelve." His tone is somewhat playful.

"Uh, I don't know what time exactly. I would have asked, but you guys were asleep and I didn't want to wake you up," I shrug, slowly opening the door and stepping inside my room.
"Oh, that's very polite of you. Thank you. Answer the question."

"It was around...maybe one-thirty-two o'clock," I drag out, a shit-eating grin on my face.
Over the last week or so, I've grown a little closer to Sam and Ryan and would even go as far as to say that I feel comfortable with them.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Oh god no," I chuckle, "he's just a friend."

"So, he's a friend that you sneak in the house at two o'clock on the morning?" He seems confused as I've almost made my way completely into my bedroom.

"Again, I didn't sneak him in. But yes, he's just a friend," I agree, slowing closing the door behind me.

"And does Scarlett know about this 'friend'?"

"Yes. She does."
Of course she doesn't. I'm pretty certain she'd flip if she knew I was sleeping with the guy that I thought almost got me pregnant. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to get ready because I'm meeting her in less than an hour."

__

By some miracle, I managed to get to breakfast not just on time, but early. Sam had offered to drive me because he had some work thing he had to do in Brooklyn and dropping me off at Grindhouse on the way just happened to work out well.

In the extra ten minutes I didn't think I'd have before going inside, I made my way around to the alleyway a couple buildings down to get away from the madness of people but primarily to hide. I would hate to find out what Scarlett would say if she saw the cigarette in my hand right now.

"You're brave doing that when you're about to meet your Mom." The voice that ever so slightly startles me is familiar, and almost comforting. I whip my head to my left and meet the gaze of my favourite waitress who happens to be taking out the trash.

"She's not my Mom," I inform her before once again pressing my mouth against the butt of the cigarette. "Oh, I thought she was, sorry," Gracie quickly apologises, throwing the trash into the garbage bin.

"Well, biologically she's my Mom, but she didn't raise me. It's a very complicated situation," I explain further, feeling a little bad for my blunt response. "Sounds it," she responds with a dry chuckle.

There's a pause.
I can feel her gaze on me as mine is focused on the concrete wall in front. I'm a little unsure as to why it makes me feel nervous, but I try to push that feeling aside as she stands to my left and leans her back against the wall.

"Can I ask what happened?" Her question is hesitant.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've just been...different these last few weeks. You seem sad and well, you're smoking. You didn't strike me as the type," she says in a melancholy tone.

Without moving my head, I look to her out the corner of my eye before dropping my gaze to the floor. "My parents died."
There's a moment of silence before she answers.
"Kenzie. I'm so, so sorry," she speaks genuinely and is quick to wrap her arms around my body, causing me to drop the cigarette.

My body is tense at first. I don't reciprocate the hug, instead hold my arms by my side. Physical touch is most certainly not my love language.
However, after a few seconds Gracie hasn't let up so I give in to the oddly comforting feeling of having her arms wrapped around me.

Taking in a deep breath, I quickly blink away the tears that are suddenly about to fall as I rest my chin against her shoulder. "You made me drop my cigarette," I mumble, finally wrapping my arms around her waist as she has with hers.

"Your lungs with thank me for it later," she giggles lightly. "Is there anything I can do, Kenz?"

I shake my head. "Thank you anyway."

"If you change your mind, or you need someone to talk to about anything then you can come to me. I'm here all day Saturday as you know, and I usually work from four to six Monday, Wednesday and Thursday too. You can call me at any time either, or message."

"I can't call you, I don't have your number," I remind her. "Oh, yeah." She pulls away from the hug and holds out her hand.
I take out my phone so she can put her contact.

"I'm really sorry, Kenzie," she repeats her words from earlier. I shrug in response.

"Thank you for the hug, I really needed that."

A small smile curls upon her lips before she presses them against my forehead. "Of course, angel. I'm here for you."