Fic: Bones: In the Trenches, Part 24/30
Chapter 24: Promotion Ceremony
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Chapter 23
Chapter 24: Promotion Ceremony
***
Temperance carefully stacked the envelopes from the last mailing she would do. She printed the letter for her government teacher documenting her hours and service at Congressman Reynolds office.
As the congressman was signing the letter he asked, "Do you have any plans for the last weekend of spring break, Temperance?"
"I didn't have time for anything but attending my college classes and working for you, Congressman, so I've got homework to finish."
He signed some papers and handed them to her. "Certainly you'll do something fun."
The congressman was still at work after six p.m., and Temperance wondered how he didn't understand her priorities. "I do have more revisions to make to my History Fair paper before State next month. I've been biking along the roads that were built over old Indian Trails and taking notes of details I could add."
"Don't get lost on those diagonals." He smiled and patted her hand, then left his hand on hers.
She withdrew her hand. "I don't get lost, Congressman. The Chicago coordinate-plane street plan is incredibly reliable. It's simple algebra. Other than that, I've been completing work packets for AP Chem and AP Physics on the train, and I'm done reading and journaling on both Beloved and Heart of Darkness."
He laughed. "Cheery reading."
She frowned. The congressman clearly didn't know the texts well. "They do have hope in the endings, yes. But for the majority of both novels, the characters experience quite disturbing and unpleasant events."
He chuckled then stood and put his jacket on. "Well, I think that does it for the night. Most of the others have packed it in already."
She turned to go and he said, "Can I drive you to the train, Temperance? Or maybe home?"
"Thank you, Congressman Reynolds, but I have my bike with me, and it won't fit in a car." She slung on her backpack. "Thank you so much for all your support."
He took her hand between his and shook it. His hands were smooth and soft. "You're very welcome. You've worked hard this week. I'd like to write a letter of recommendation for you."
"Oh." She blinked, not sure what to say. "I'm grateful, but...I don't need one. I've already been admitted to Northwestern. I accepted."
"Well, I'd like to send them a commendation of your excellent work ethic and recommend you for a scholarship."
"Thank you, Congressman, but I've already received a scholarship. I'm sure they'd be glad to hear from you, though."
He moved closer. "Just remember me, and think about coming to Washington at some point. I'd love to show you around our capital." He touched her cheek. "Are you sure I can't get you to the train?"
Her face flushed suddenly, and she needed to move. She pulled her hand away and stepped back. "Like I said, I've got my bike. Thank you again, Congressman." She waved farewell and hurried to her bike and her train.
Sleep was elusive that night as she wondered if she'd misunderstood his gesture.
***
"Temperance! Did you have a good spring break?" Mr. Buxley extended a hand.
She shook his hand. It was rough, warm, and comforting. "I had an internship for AP Government at the local office of a congressional representative."
"Fantastic, as usual. How'd you arrange that?"
"The representative was one of the visitors at a couple of parties at my last foster home, and he ran into me one day and offered."
Mr. Buxley was frowning. "He just...offered?"
Temperance nodded.
"Which representative was this?"
"Representative Reynolds."
Mr. Buxley's eyes narrowed. "You need to be more cautious, Temperance. I don't usually put much stock in rumors, but I've started to hear some pretty unpleasant things about how that man treats women."
"You know, you sounded like my father just then, Mr. Buxley," she said. Then she frowned, too. "But...I did wonder. When I was leaving at the end of my last day, he touched my cheek--"
"Temperance," Mr. Buxley looked her up and down. "He didn't touch you more than that, did he?"
"No! He didn't do anything else! But...it was very uncomfortable. And I felt bad. I thought maybe I was misinterpreting his gesture, that I was presuming on his kindness. I mean, he might have just been being...generous."
"There's only one thing these politicians are that generous about, and it was something he's got no right to offer someone as young as you." His expression was stern.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked quietly, looking at her shoes.
"At you? Not at all. I just want to make sure he didn't hurt you."
"He didn't," she said, feeling as nervous as she had that night waiting for the train.
"All right. Just...I wouldn't recommend accepting anything else from him. Politicians--especially around here--don't give favors for free."
Temperance thought that sounded like a great many of the people she'd encountered, both before and after her parents' disappearance.
***
~May 1994~
Nothing from the thrift shops or local clothing stores in the mall fit. She'd been to a dozen stores on her bike or jogging and had tried on dozens of dresses before giving up. It was a good thing she hadn't been invited to prom if this was how difficult it was to find something nice to wear.
The second-to-last Friday night of the month there was a sharp rap on her bedroom door.
"Komm," Temperance called.
The door opened. "For every girl, there should be a pretty dress at important occasions," Frau Becker declared with that clipped finality that brooked no argument. "Tomorrow, we will go shopping. The train departs promptly at eight. Sleep well, Temperance."
***
Frau Becker took her to Marshall Field's, and, together, they searched for a dress to fit her lanky but ever curvier figure.
Temperance felt like they tried on every dress in the store. Frau Becker, who, over the last seven months, had touched her only when passing food at dinner, tugged and tucked at each dress. "I was seamstress, you know, when I have first arrived after the war," she said.
Temperance just wanted the background roar of the store and the fussing to stop, and she was ready to beg Frau Becker to take her home. She would just wear an old skirt and blouse, she decided. No one would see it under the gown anyway.
The older woman returned, "Try these."
Temperance thought she might cry. She hadn't cried since the mix-up after she broke Evelyn's jaw.
Frau Becker held out a dress with shell patterns on a background that swirled with blues. It reminded her of where the sky met the ocean on the trip to the beach back when she'd had a family.
She put it on, and Frau Becker tucked at the collar and nodded. "Yes. This one. It shows best the blue of your eyes."
***
She reached up and light, patterned cotton rippled over her. She fit her arms through the cap sleeves and reached around to do up the zipper on the first new dress she'd had in three years.
Looking in the mirror, Temperance blinked back tears as she realized that she looked, like she'd always wanted to, like her mother. For the first time she saw that she was pretty.
She set the mortar board parallel to the floor and pinned her graduation cap on. It was not as secure as it could have been, but that was because her hair was down, like Dad liked it.
He would always twist a curl around his finger, saying, "Give your old dad a hug."
No one had hugged her in over two years, and her hair was too long to curl. It caught on Mom's earrings, the ones that had been out on the dresser when DCFS drove her away from home for the last time. If she'd had time to plan, she would have picked different ones. These weren't Mom's favorites.
She draped the gown she'd ironed so meticulously the night before over her arm and headed down the stairs.
Temperance knew that, as arranged, she and Frau Becker would be picked up by Kendra, the salutatorian, and her father, who would drive them to graduation. They would leave at precisely six.
That gave her thirty minutes, so she rehearsed the speech about the students' futures that the school required her, as valedictorian, to deliver.
***
Sitting in the hard chair on stage, she forced herself to hold her hands still in her lap, to keep her head up, her shoulders back. It was what Frau Becker would demand. Next week classes at Northwestern University would begin, and she hoped again that the scholarship she'd accepted would make her parents proud. She scanned the audience members with their patchwork of clothing and hair colors, facial shapes, movements, and postures. Frau Becker was watching and nodded to her with what almost looked like a smile.
After the speeches and the calling of names, after the endless repetition of "Pomp and Circumstance," after the cascade of spinning hats rose and fell, the students and audience flowed together. She stood apart, watching. There were cheers and hugs and tears and kisses, flashes from cameras, silly poses with groups of students, family groups.
Mr. Buxley shook her hand before excusing himself.
She wasn't crying, not really, as she watched mothers hug their daughters, fathers kiss their children on the cheeks, and older and younger siblings wrap themselves around waists and necks.
She looked away from the liquid movement of the crowd, and her gaze snagged on a Caucasian male with light hair and round, plain features who seemed to be looking at her from near the back of the auditorium.
She frowned, tipped her head, blinked, and he was gone, swallowed up by people, distance, and inadequate light.
If she were less rational, she might have thought it was Matt Brennan.
"We are ready, Temperance," Frau Becker's voice said next to her. "Your parents, they would be very proud. I believe you will be very successful."
With only one glance back at that now-empty spot near the door, Temperance followed the older woman out of the auditorium.
She had a life to get on with, and there were no such things as ghosts.
***
Chapter 25
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 30 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Author's Notes
This chapter contains a somewhat modified version of "Commencement", originally posted at ff.net and bitesize_bones as a short.
Thanks upon thanks to my wonderful betas and sounding boards: jennasq, b1uemorpho, and havocthecat. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Chapter 23
Chapter 24: Promotion Ceremony
***
Temperance carefully stacked the envelopes from the last mailing she would do. She printed the letter for her government teacher documenting her hours and service at Congressman Reynolds office.
As the congressman was signing the letter he asked, "Do you have any plans for the last weekend of spring break, Temperance?"
"I didn't have time for anything but attending my college classes and working for you, Congressman, so I've got homework to finish."
He signed some papers and handed them to her. "Certainly you'll do something fun."
The congressman was still at work after six p.m., and Temperance wondered how he didn't understand her priorities. "I do have more revisions to make to my History Fair paper before State next month. I've been biking along the roads that were built over old Indian Trails and taking notes of details I could add."
"Don't get lost on those diagonals." He smiled and patted her hand, then left his hand on hers.
She withdrew her hand. "I don't get lost, Congressman. The Chicago coordinate-plane street plan is incredibly reliable. It's simple algebra. Other than that, I've been completing work packets for AP Chem and AP Physics on the train, and I'm done reading and journaling on both Beloved and Heart of Darkness."
He laughed. "Cheery reading."
She frowned. The congressman clearly didn't know the texts well. "They do have hope in the endings, yes. But for the majority of both novels, the characters experience quite disturbing and unpleasant events."
He chuckled then stood and put his jacket on. "Well, I think that does it for the night. Most of the others have packed it in already."
She turned to go and he said, "Can I drive you to the train, Temperance? Or maybe home?"
"Thank you, Congressman Reynolds, but I have my bike with me, and it won't fit in a car." She slung on her backpack. "Thank you so much for all your support."
He took her hand between his and shook it. His hands were smooth and soft. "You're very welcome. You've worked hard this week. I'd like to write a letter of recommendation for you."
"Oh." She blinked, not sure what to say. "I'm grateful, but...I don't need one. I've already been admitted to Northwestern. I accepted."
"Well, I'd like to send them a commendation of your excellent work ethic and recommend you for a scholarship."
"Thank you, Congressman, but I've already received a scholarship. I'm sure they'd be glad to hear from you, though."
He moved closer. "Just remember me, and think about coming to Washington at some point. I'd love to show you around our capital." He touched her cheek. "Are you sure I can't get you to the train?"
Her face flushed suddenly, and she needed to move. She pulled her hand away and stepped back. "Like I said, I've got my bike. Thank you again, Congressman." She waved farewell and hurried to her bike and her train.
Sleep was elusive that night as she wondered if she'd misunderstood his gesture.
***
"Temperance! Did you have a good spring break?" Mr. Buxley extended a hand.
She shook his hand. It was rough, warm, and comforting. "I had an internship for AP Government at the local office of a congressional representative."
"Fantastic, as usual. How'd you arrange that?"
"The representative was one of the visitors at a couple of parties at my last foster home, and he ran into me one day and offered."
Mr. Buxley was frowning. "He just...offered?"
Temperance nodded.
"Which representative was this?"
"Representative Reynolds."
Mr. Buxley's eyes narrowed. "You need to be more cautious, Temperance. I don't usually put much stock in rumors, but I've started to hear some pretty unpleasant things about how that man treats women."
"You know, you sounded like my father just then, Mr. Buxley," she said. Then she frowned, too. "But...I did wonder. When I was leaving at the end of my last day, he touched my cheek--"
"Temperance," Mr. Buxley looked her up and down. "He didn't touch you more than that, did he?"
"No! He didn't do anything else! But...it was very uncomfortable. And I felt bad. I thought maybe I was misinterpreting his gesture, that I was presuming on his kindness. I mean, he might have just been being...generous."
"There's only one thing these politicians are that generous about, and it was something he's got no right to offer someone as young as you." His expression was stern.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked quietly, looking at her shoes.
"At you? Not at all. I just want to make sure he didn't hurt you."
"He didn't," she said, feeling as nervous as she had that night waiting for the train.
"All right. Just...I wouldn't recommend accepting anything else from him. Politicians--especially around here--don't give favors for free."
Temperance thought that sounded like a great many of the people she'd encountered, both before and after her parents' disappearance.
***
~May 1994~
Nothing from the thrift shops or local clothing stores in the mall fit. She'd been to a dozen stores on her bike or jogging and had tried on dozens of dresses before giving up. It was a good thing she hadn't been invited to prom if this was how difficult it was to find something nice to wear.
The second-to-last Friday night of the month there was a sharp rap on her bedroom door.
"Komm," Temperance called.
The door opened. "For every girl, there should be a pretty dress at important occasions," Frau Becker declared with that clipped finality that brooked no argument. "Tomorrow, we will go shopping. The train departs promptly at eight. Sleep well, Temperance."
***
Frau Becker took her to Marshall Field's, and, together, they searched for a dress to fit her lanky but ever curvier figure.
Temperance felt like they tried on every dress in the store. Frau Becker, who, over the last seven months, had touched her only when passing food at dinner, tugged and tucked at each dress. "I was seamstress, you know, when I have first arrived after the war," she said.
Temperance just wanted the background roar of the store and the fussing to stop, and she was ready to beg Frau Becker to take her home. She would just wear an old skirt and blouse, she decided. No one would see it under the gown anyway.
The older woman returned, "Try these."
Temperance thought she might cry. She hadn't cried since the mix-up after she broke Evelyn's jaw.
Frau Becker held out a dress with shell patterns on a background that swirled with blues. It reminded her of where the sky met the ocean on the trip to the beach back when she'd had a family.
She put it on, and Frau Becker tucked at the collar and nodded. "Yes. This one. It shows best the blue of your eyes."
***
She reached up and light, patterned cotton rippled over her. She fit her arms through the cap sleeves and reached around to do up the zipper on the first new dress she'd had in three years.
Looking in the mirror, Temperance blinked back tears as she realized that she looked, like she'd always wanted to, like her mother. For the first time she saw that she was pretty.
She set the mortar board parallel to the floor and pinned her graduation cap on. It was not as secure as it could have been, but that was because her hair was down, like Dad liked it.
He would always twist a curl around his finger, saying, "Give your old dad a hug."
No one had hugged her in over two years, and her hair was too long to curl. It caught on Mom's earrings, the ones that had been out on the dresser when DCFS drove her away from home for the last time. If she'd had time to plan, she would have picked different ones. These weren't Mom's favorites.
She draped the gown she'd ironed so meticulously the night before over her arm and headed down the stairs.
Temperance knew that, as arranged, she and Frau Becker would be picked up by Kendra, the salutatorian, and her father, who would drive them to graduation. They would leave at precisely six.
That gave her thirty minutes, so she rehearsed the speech about the students' futures that the school required her, as valedictorian, to deliver.
***
Sitting in the hard chair on stage, she forced herself to hold her hands still in her lap, to keep her head up, her shoulders back. It was what Frau Becker would demand. Next week classes at Northwestern University would begin, and she hoped again that the scholarship she'd accepted would make her parents proud. She scanned the audience members with their patchwork of clothing and hair colors, facial shapes, movements, and postures. Frau Becker was watching and nodded to her with what almost looked like a smile.
After the speeches and the calling of names, after the endless repetition of "Pomp and Circumstance," after the cascade of spinning hats rose and fell, the students and audience flowed together. She stood apart, watching. There were cheers and hugs and tears and kisses, flashes from cameras, silly poses with groups of students, family groups.
Mr. Buxley shook her hand before excusing himself.
She wasn't crying, not really, as she watched mothers hug their daughters, fathers kiss their children on the cheeks, and older and younger siblings wrap themselves around waists and necks.
She looked away from the liquid movement of the crowd, and her gaze snagged on a Caucasian male with light hair and round, plain features who seemed to be looking at her from near the back of the auditorium.
She frowned, tipped her head, blinked, and he was gone, swallowed up by people, distance, and inadequate light.
If she were less rational, she might have thought it was Matt Brennan.
"We are ready, Temperance," Frau Becker's voice said next to her. "Your parents, they would be very proud. I believe you will be very successful."
With only one glance back at that now-empty spot near the door, Temperance followed the older woman out of the auditorium.
She had a life to get on with, and there were no such things as ghosts.
***
Chapter 25
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 30 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Author's Notes
This chapter contains a somewhat modified version of "Commencement", originally posted at ff.net and bitesize_bones as a short.
Thanks upon thanks to my wonderful betas and sounding boards: jennasq, b1uemorpho, and havocthecat. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***