imjustpicky | 01 - I Believe in Second Chances

[Evenings were coming earlier and getting colder in Onett, but that didn't stop Picky from taking his usual place on the hilltop. The meteor was long-gone, the crater partially filled in and covered with grass, but the place was still... important. He had made sandwiches, bologna with mustard on white bread, and taken them along. Three of them. One for him, two for...

The two always wound up being for him, too. But maybe...

So he ate his sandwich, and watched the sunset, and played with his Game Boy, and waited. When sunset became stars, he watched those, too. And when the temperature took a sudden drop, he pulled his hands into the sleeves of his sweater and wrapped a camping blanket around himself. Tonight... he had a really good feeling about tonight. Tonight, Pokey would come back, and he'd be really happy to have sandwiches waiting for him. Then he'd explain everything. And he'd say that he missed him. And he'd have his big brother back. And things would be better.

Under the sweater and blankets, Picky was warm and cozy and comfortable. Comfortable enough to eventually lie down, curl up, and drift off to sleep.]

---

[Locked to household at 7132 Brooks Lane, Morning]

[Picky isn't sure where he is when consciousness starts coming back to him. He's warm, and comfortable, and not outside in the grass all dew-soaked and chilled... which wasn't what he expected, once his thoughts began to gather.

Had someone come and taken him home...? But who would ever bother to do that?

He cracks one eye open, meaning to check the time on his alarm clock, but his alarm clock wasn't there. Or any of his other things. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't his room. Wakefulness is coming back to him, and how. He rubs his eyes, throws aside the blankets, and stumbles across the unfamiliar floor.]

H-hey...?

[The only conclusion he can come to is that he has been KIDNAPPED. Didn't they warn about this sort of stuff on that one day of the year when the police came to school and handed out pamphlets? They totally warned about this sort of stuff. But his kidnapper was dumb. His kidnapper had left a baseball bat in the room. Brandishing it, still in his jammies, he advanced into the household.]

[Phone - Morning]

[The voice on the phone is a whisper.]

Hey. Is this 911? The police? I'm... My name is Picky Minch. I've been kidnapped, and I'm being held hostage by... by really weird people.

They keep calling me "son". They're not my parents. It's creepy, it's really creepy.

[There's a sudden, sharp intake of breath, and then the voice becomes muffled as though someone is holding a hand over the receiver.]

Nothing... I'm not talking to anyone! B-breakfast? I'm... I'm not hungry!

[The line eventually un-muffles. The boy sighs.]

Can you hurry? They're trying to make me eat oatmeal. Yuck!

[Action A - School]

[Despite his protests, Picky's drone mother had handed him a lunch and a book bag and shooed him out the door to go to school. Experience had told him that it was almost always a bad idea to miss school... so even if this wasn't his town? And wasn't his school? What choice did he have but to attend?

So here's the new kid, sitting at his desk, looking slightly stunned. Or in the cafeteria at a table by himself, slightly stunned. Or in the playground off to one side, slightly stunned.

He's still not sure if this is actually happening.]

[Action B - Around Town, Afternoon]

[School is out, and there's this really strange town to explore. So Picky is off exploring it. He's peering in store windows, stepping on crunchy leaves with gusto, staring at the drones as they go about their business.... And shyly avoiding eye-contact with the people that act real-er. The bangs make it pretty easy.]

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[Picky briefly looked to the girl when she came to the table, then quickly turned his attentions back to his peanut butter sandwich. He had to be careful, that's what Pokey said, or...]

W-what?

[Snap. His head came right back around again, moving with enough speed to momentarily blow the hair from his eyes. Someone was recognizing him already.]

...who?

[He seems confused. Well, that's natural when some stranger comes up to you and starts saying what very well might be cryptic statements. But Clod couldn't care less. No, instead, she'll just be sitting right near Picky.]

You looked like family. So, what's your name?

Oh.

[He uses this as his chance to cram his mouth full of peanut butter sandwich. It'll take a while to get it chewed and swallowed, and he can use that time to think of something else to say.]

...Finch. I'm Finch.

[It was that or Aloysius. And... no. Aloysius was a terrible name.]

Finch? Oh, you mean like the bird. Okay, that's a good name.

[The boy seems anxious, Clod notes, but that could just as easily be because of her sudden appearance. There were many people who were "naturally nervous", so the girl doesn't find it particularly strange. She'll treat this like a normal conversation because, for the most part, it really is.]

You can call me Clod.

Yeah! Like the bird.

[It was working, it was working.... He dares to smile a little.]

Clod. Okay. I just got here today. Uh... how long have you been in this town, Clod?

It's been a few month. You'll either have a difficult time getting adjusted or a very easy one depending on the sort of person you are.

Mayfield is almost like Wonderland. Or just a nightmare. Or maybe it's a bit blurred.

[What kind of person you are? Picky has to think about that for a moment before he answers. He uses that moment to have another bite of his sandwich.]

It doesn't look too different from home. Too much. It's... everything's older. Like a TV show.

I'm... not sure what I think about it, yet.

[Pros: Big Brother is here, horrible parents aren't. Cons: MIGHT END UP DYING.

It required more thought.]

[Clod hasn't touched her food all that much. Or at all. In fact, given her current state as a god-like entity, she doesn't even really need food. But it's a fond reminder of her humanity which... she regained not too long ago, come to think of it.]

Like in those black and white television sets. You know, if you'd like to pretend that this is just a dream, I don't see what the problem is.

No matter how much time passes, you'll return to your world and life as if nothing happened, I think. In that case, it's just an extended dream.

[He's not sure he likes these suggestions that Clod's making. And it shows on his face. He has a scrunched look, sort of, sandwich raised but not bitten into.]

...I don't think I want this to be just a dream.

Oh? Is there something about this place that you wish were reality?

[A smile curls up on the girl's face expressing a mixture of curiosity and slyness that urges on the boy to argue why she's wrong.]

[Picky is quiet for while, obviously staring at Clod as he made up his mind.]

...my mom's lousy. My dad... the last time I saw my dad, it was a few months ago, and he was drunk, and the cops had to come and take him away.

[He looks away pointedly, and bites into his sandwich. Chewing and swallowing gives his words some time to sink in, he hopes.]

Maybe this'll be better.

[Clod's smile... remained. She could empathize with having lackluster parents. Her sister only gave her trouble, but she was the only one that stood by her. These similar circumstances and familiar emotions felt by the two should have softened Clod's voice.

But no. It's that last line that irks her. Her smile widens and as she opens her mouth, a piercing cackle resounds through the cafeteria.]

"Maybe this'll be better". Was that meant to be a joke, little one? Your parents very well might be the scum of the earth. I don't doubt that. The entire world is caked with scum like them!

But if you're trying to use Mayfield as a means of escape, then you'll only be met with tragedy. Mayfield is a nightmare where all your inner demons will hound you down. It knows what you're afraid of the most and it'll bring that out relentlessly. Your world might be covered with scum, but that's all Mayfield is on the inside. You have something to look forward to in your world: a future. Time doesn't move here. It's just a fantasy.

[He hadn't expected a lecture. What regular little girl could give a lecture like that? It was becoming plainly obvious that Clod wasn't normal in the slightest. The rest of his sandwich is squished in his hands, and he scoots his chair away from her almost a foot.]

I... I don't care.

I don't!

I don't.

[The sandwich is still good, if just a little flat, so he starts to finish it. And he turns himself away from Clod, intent on ignoring her. She'd have to get tired of it and leave eventually. Most did. He had been bullied before, and wasn't about to let some creepy girl get to him.]

01 - I Believe in Second Chances

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