STRANGERS ♱ yellowjackets

44. bunny is missing (pre-crash)

1995
New Jersey, Hopper Residence

THE DINING HALL AT THE HOPPER HOUSE WAS DEAD SILENT.

Bunny sat at the dinner table, her gaze fixed on her plate, staring with such intensity it was as if the food itself had offended her. Tonight's dinner felt like it stretched on forever, each second dragging heavier than the last. She was still reeling from the sting of losing their soccer game, a game she'd poured all her energy and effort into. It felt like a slap in the face. Worse, she'd been denied permission to go to the movies with Taissa, a plan she'd been looking forward to all week.

Yet somehow, PJ had convinced their dad to let him invite Natalie over, and now she was sitting right across from Bunny, the two of them locked in an unspoken standoff across the table.

Their dad sat at the head, oblivious or maybe just trying to ignore the tension crackling in the air. PJ and Natalie shared a quiet laugh at something he whispered, and Bunny's jaw tightened as she picked at her dinner without much interest. Natalie's laugh was soft and breathy, almost sweet, but it grated on Bunny's nerves, making her feel like a guest in her own home. She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to look up, not to react, to keep all her frustration contained behind the silent stare she'd fixed on her untouched meal.

After dinner, Bunny retreated to the bathroom, finding a small solace in the familiar rhythm of brushing her teeth. The methodical counting in her head was one of the few things that helped her calm down, almost like a reset button she could press to wind down. But as she focused on brushing, the door creaked open, and her counting was interrupted. Natalie stepped inside, her expression somewhere between concerned and hesitant, as if she knew she was interrupting but couldn't help herself.

"Hey," Natalie greeted, her voice quiet as she leaned into the doorway.

Bunny's eyes flicked up to meet Natalie's through the bathroom mirror. The intrusion threw her off, pulling her right out of her carefully controlled nightly ritual. Annoyed, she leaned over the sink, spat out the toothpaste, and muttered, "Occupied," her tone cold, dismissive.

Natalie shifted uncomfortably, lingering at the doorway. "Your dad sent me. He wanted me to check up on you. You seemed... tense at dinner."

Bunny's fingers tightened around her toothbrush as she rinsed it under the tap. She wasn't in the mood for this. She didn't need anyone to check up on her, especially not Natalie. Not tonight. "Can you go now?" she replied, her voice flat, each word dipped in irritation as she applied a fresh bead of toothpaste, ready to start her count all over again.

Natalie hesitated, fidgeting as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. There was a small sigh as she turned to leave, but before she fully left, she paused, glancing over her shoulder with an awkward, almost nervous smile. "You played well today, by the way." The words left her mouth almost reluctantly, as if she wasn't sure why she'd said them. Complimenting Bunny felt strange, and yet, there was a flicker of sincerity in her tone.

Bunny rolled her eyes, slamming the bathroom door shut without a word, leaving Natalie on the other side with only a hollow silence.

Natalie felt her patience snap. She was tired of Bunny's cold attitude, the constant glares, and the passive-aggressive comments. But almost as soon as the irritation flared, a wave of guilt washed over her.

Bunny had a right to her anger—her mother was gone, and she was left to pick up the pieces in a world that was still moving forward without her. Natalie wanted to be sympathetic, to be the one who reached out, but every attempt was met with the same cold wall.