Extra Bonus #66: Troublemakers Fireside Chat (Patreon)

IMPORTANT: Please do not screenshot and post any part of this bonus scene to other sites or share with non-patrons. All of the Patreon content is exclusive to Patreon and for current patron's eyes only.  Thank you!! xoxo Krista & Becca

RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

MUSIC: we listened to "Morning Blue" by Giant Rooks and "Connected" by Stereo MC's plus all the music mentioned in the bonus while writing this bonus scene.

WINTER IS HERE.

It’s a magical time. My favorite time. Winter means something different for everyone on Earth. For me, it’s always meant the end of school.

An achievement unlocked. Winter break has begun.

But this year, I’ve screwed up so much with school that in order to graduate from Dalton Academy on time, I need to be homeschooled. Regardless of school, there are reasons why I don’t love summer break as much as winter.

I like how the chill of a falling snowflake feels like an innocent kiss on the cheek and nose. I love how every December, Xander grows another year older, and some winters, he’s happy about it, too.

There are the traditions, the happy consistent things. How Mom tries to keep the Christmas spirit alive with making gingerbread houses, even though we’re both lazy carpenters and always end up eating the walls. How Kinney secretly loves the joyful holiday tunes. How Moffy spends the most time with us. How excited Dad gets in gift-giving. His face turns childlike and youthful seeing Xander geek-out over LOTR collectibles and watching Kinney try not to beam over a makeup palette she didn’t think she’d get.

And the lake house.

It’s always here. Waiting for us during the winter.

But this year, I know it’s different. I feel different, and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve fucked up so much or if it’s because I’m getting older.

We all are.

Eliot isn’t twelve anymore, being swallowed whole by his fur coat outdoors. He’s nineteen, sky-scraper tall, and his floor-length faux-fur coat seems magically made for him. Like no other human could pull off his wardrobe with the same magnificence.

He stands atop a tree stump in a small secret alcove in the woods. Moonlight and crackling fire illuminate his face, bare chest, sweatpants, and that fur coat. He holds a book like he’s about to read from it, but I know this book has blank pages.

“‘Live in each season as it passes,’” he recites Thoreau from memory, “‘breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.’” He takes a dramatic pause. “‘Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.’”

I snap my fingers while Tom strums a couple pretty notes on his guitar. He’s more bundled than his brother in a black beanie, puffy winter coat, and scuffed boots.

At least it’s not so cold by the fire. I scoot closer to the flames that swarm the charred logs, and I pull my hoodie’s hood over my head. Still on the tree stump, Eliot sucks on a blunt and then squats down to pass it to me.

I grab it and take a hit before passing to Tom.

Smoke fills my lungs, and I exhale deeply, needing the calm. “Super glad we’re not doing shrooms tonight,” I tell them. We did try that…once. “I definitely don’t need to go on a bad trip.” Weed is better. It calms me down. Eases my anxieties, and I have plenty of those lately.

I didn’t call a meeting out in the woods tonight.

We’re at the lake house.

Nighttime fireside chats are our thing. We’ve been going to this little spot in the woods for what’s felt like forever. It started when we wanted a secret club away from our older siblings and cousins. And something that the younger kids can’t join. Something that was just ours to read, to recite, to sing, to dance, to just…be. Then it turned into a “hideout” to vape away from their mom and my dad, who really despise smoking.

We’re old enough now that we don’t have to sneak out at two in the morning to come here. It’s only 10 p.m., and our families think we took a night walk around the lake.

“Bad trips can be the best trips,” Eliot jumps off the stump and sits on it.

“Or they can just be plain bad,” Tom refutes with another strum of his guitar. He passes the blunt back to Eliot without smoking.

“Not in the mood, brother?” Eliot wonders.

“There’s enough weird shit going on lately,” Tom mutters, pressing his hand to his guitar strings. The sound dies. “Our sister is icing out Mom and Dad, which I never thought would happen. Like ever.”

Eliot sobers. “She has good reason. They should’ve trusted her.” His eyes darken, even when the firelight glints against them.

“Why didn’t they?” I ask them. I’ve thought about this a lot, and I’m sure they have, too. Why did all our parents jump to the conclusion that Jane and Moffy were lying? They’ve never really lied. Not like the three of us have.

We’d be the first ones they should doubt.

I’d peg Jane and Moffy being the very last to mistrust.

Tom thinks. “Something had to have happened in that camp cabin when all the parents were there, right?” He looks to Eliot. “Jane won’t talk about it.”

“Or they just didn't believe them,” Eliot says quietly. “I would have. The moment they said it was a tabloid lie, I would’ve believed them. Hell, I did.”

Tom sets his guitar aside. “You also were the first one who said ‘maybe’ when we heard the incest rumors.”

“Shakespeare rotted your brain,” I sing-song.

Eliot points at me, the joint between his fingers. “I’ll allow the insult to the world’s greatest playwright. Only because I love you, and not in that way.”

Tom laughs.

I smile, and it is true that Eliot did somewhat believe the tabloids could be true about Moffy and Jane. Just for a moment. I didn’t think they were and neither did Tom, but after we heard that Moffy and Jane denounced the whole thing, we always believed it was just a salacious lie and clickbait.

I tug at the strings to my hoodie. “Jane’s likely still upset because it took Farrow and Moffy kissing for your Mom and Dad to believe her.”

“Ridiculous,” Eliot says darkly. “Where’s the allegiance?”

“They’re rooted in logic, dude,” Tom takes off his fingerless gloves and warms his hands over the fire. “There must’ve been some logical thing that was pointing them in the wrong direction.”

“Am I not rooted in logic?” Eliot questions, taking another hit.

“When it comes to our family, you’re all heart, brother,” Tom grins.

Eliot wears a softer smile, one that vanishes too quickly.

“It’s strange that they won’t be here for Christmas,” I mutter. They know I’m referring to Jane, Moffy, Charlie, Beckett, and Sullivan. They’re all on a tour bus for a H.M.C. Philanthropies FanCon event. It’s basically a Damage Control Tour to reestablish the crumbling fact that Moffy and Jane are just cousins.

The three of us are seniors, so there was really no talk of us joining them.

“I still can’t believe Beckett decided to go,” Tom says, staring dazedly at the crackling flames. “He almost never misses a performance—dude is an inspiration.”

I secretly hope Tom never becomes that much of a workaholic. But that’s largely why he didn’t join the FanCon tour—he’s been super focused on his band and couldn’t miss months of time.

“Charlie is more shocking,” Eliot counters. “When has he ever done anything for Jane?”

“When has he ever done anything for any of us?” Tom says, almost resigned to the fact that Charlie is the most self-centered among them.

“When’s the last time you asked him for help?” I ask them, because I wonder if Charlie just hasn’t been tested as much as he could be.

Eliot picks up a stick. “Last week. I asked him if he had a copy of Othello I could borrow.”

“And…?”

“And he said, Why? You can’t read it.” Eliot begins to smile. “I’d call him a little shit, but he’s more like a big shit since he’s my big brother.”

“What’d you need Othello for?” I ask.

Tom shakes his head. “Don’t ask.”

Eliot is quick to tell me. “I was trying to take a selfie for someone, and we talked about Othello for fifteen minutes.”

“A girl he met at Superheroes & Scones,” Tom clarifies since I’m out of the loop. He glances at Eliot. “What’s her name?”

“Natalya.”

I smile over at Eliot, wondering if this is it. Cosmic love for one of us. The universe is finally drawing hearts around Eliot. “That’s very Aunt Willow and Uncle Garrison, you know. Running into your soul mate at Superheroes & Scones.” 

“No,” Tom cuts in, eyes widening. “Not a soul mate, Luna. She challenged him to take a naked selfie.”

“Tastefully, I did it,” Eliot says. “Without Charlie’s copy of Othello. I used The Taming of the Shrew instead.”

“You sent it to her?”

He nods.

Oh no. “What if she leaks the pic?”

Tom tips his head to Eliot. “Yeah, dude, what if she leaks the pic?” He says it in a way that he must’ve asked his brother this before.

Eliot rests his forearms on his knees, leaning forward. “So what if it is leaked?”

Is he counting on it? Or is he just okay with that fate?

“It hasn’t been,” Tom tells me, “which makes me think she’s never going to do it.”

Eliot doesn’t look too disappointed. It’s like he escaped the burn of the fire. He likes tiptoeing the edge of danger more than most people. I’m not too afraid of getting close to the flames, but I am disappointed in myself when I do feel a scorch. Like I know better.

I wish I could be that confident every time I near a fuck-up. I guess Eliot wouldn’t even consider a leaked nude a fuck-up. Should I just rewire my brain to perceive every failure as a purposeful achievement? How do you even do that?

The only sound comes from the cracking wood and a hoot of an owl in the distance. We’re all in deep revere until Tom breaks the silence. “About, uh, my long-lost…long-lost feelings on Farrow, can we promise here and now not to mention them ever to Moffy or his new boyfriend?”

“Who happens to be Farrow,” Eliot says with a rising grin.

Tom pales more. “Yeah. That. Promise, right now.”

“On my deathbed, I won’t tell them. I swear to it, brother.”

“I promise.” I extend my pinky to Tom beside me.

He hooks his pink with mine and nods strongly with Eliot.

While Tom relaxes, I ask Eliot, “I thought you’d go on tour with them.” I haven’t heard him even considering going.

“I have…matters to attend here…” He’s sort of cagey, avoiding my gaze and poking at the charred logs. Embers burst at the bottom of the fire. “And you? Why aren’t you going?”

I shake my head slowly, unsure. “I don’t think my parents would let me.”

His lips begin to rise. “When has that ever stopped us?”

Tom shares his mischievous grin. “He speaks the truth.”

I wish I could also share in their grins, in the wild notion that I could run away and join the FanCon tour without my parents knowing, and maybe I could. Maybe I could link up with the tour bus and surprise everyone there.

That’s an idea.

It lifts my shoulders, but my frown deepens, knowing what I want to run away from. What’s here.

Their smiles are gone.

Tom’s concerned gaze heavies on me. “What’s eating at you, Luna with No Middle Name?”

I shove my sleeves up my arms, getting hot. “This whole winter break has been…out of the ordinary. Usually, I’m down for that kind of stuff, but I feel like I’ve been fucking up every time I have a choice to make. Like the universe has provided me Option A and Option B and I always choose the wrong one.”

“Is this because of Caden?” Eliot asks, his blue eyes steeling all of a sudden.

That name twists my stomach.

Caden Moss.

The guy who took my virginity.

Or did I give it away? I’d like to think I delivered it to him. As one does when they really want to have sex. And I wanted it. Even in the backseat of his car, it was a decent time. He made me come at least, and I heard that’s difficult to do for your first time.

It happened the last day of school before winter break. Not too long ago, but long enough to have a late period and go in total panic mode.

I lean further away from the fire. “Partly.” I frown more. “I mean, there is something I have to tell you guys.”

Eliot and Tom exchange a strange look with one another. One that puts me on edge. An ember bursts in the air, and I try not to take that as an omen. I think Kinney would.

“We actually have something to tell you, too.” Tom takes off his beanie and ruffles his hair. Pieces fall towards his eyebrows.

Eliot offers me the blunt again, and I shake my head.

Now I’m worried the weed is going to make me paranoid.

Tom speaks. “Caden is an asshat.”

“A worm,” Eliot decrees.

That worm was inside me.

“With a two-inch dick,” Eliot further adds. 

“His dick was bigger than two-inches,” I tell them.

“God is unjust,” Eliot says.

I look between them. “I told you guys that he was cool with me. He actually made sure I came before he did. And he knew we were just having sex. No strings attached.” I couldn’t think of a better first time. It was chill, uncomplicated. Exactly what I wanted.

Eliot snubs the blunt on a large rock next to him. “He’s been wagging his tongue.”

My stomach sinks.

Wagging his tongue. Whenever Eliot says those words, it means nothing good. My thoughts spiral right out of my mouth, “Is he like detailing the details of everything?” Detailing the details? I can’t even form eloquent words. I’m sweating. Is this fire suddenly raging hot?

I pull off my hoodie over my head. Now in just a cropped tee, the December wind hits my skin, but I barely feel the cold.

Tom looks sympathetic. “As far as we know, he’s not going into graphic detail. He’s just saying some pretty shitty things.”

“About me,” I conclude.

Tom sighs hard, his face in a grimace. “I hate him.”

“I loathe him.” Eliot glares at the fire. “We debated whether we should tell you.” His gaze draws to me. “Our intention isn’t to hurt you with this news, and messengers are always the ones brandishing the swords—but if it came from someone at school before us…”

“I’m glad you’re telling me,” I say, a knot forming in my throat. To be the butt of a joke—I’m used to that. I’m used to all the rumors. I’m used to bad things happening to me.

I should be resigned to whatever news they have to share, but I guess this isn’t exactly the same-old, same-old.

Before, people could create tall tales about me and sex. But my virginity—the truth I held—was a barrier they couldn’t puncture. Now, I’m not a virgin anymore.

So does it make what they’re saying about me more true? What even are they saying?

Tom tosses a twig into the fire, and I watch the flames eat it.

I swallow hard. “So what’s the shitty thing he said?”

Tom’s nose flares, and he tosses another twig into the fire, this time more forcefully. His eyes flick to Eliot.

Eliot says, “He’s calling you a slut.” He pauses then adds, “He’s saying you’re like your mom.”

A sex addict.

I’ve heard this before, but this time, it feels different. Am I a sex addict? Would Caden be able to tell if I’m addicted or have addictive tendencies towards sex? Just with one time?

He can’t know that about me before I know myself.

Right?

“You can’t tell if you’re a sex addict if you’ve only had sex once,” I tell my best friends. “Right?”

Eliot’s blue eyes ice. “Don’t, Luna.”

My stomach twists. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t let that fucking worm into your head.” He points at his temple. “Don’t let him question what you know.”

I know myself.

I take a breath. “What do I know?” I ask, needing them as I teeter between awful feelings.

“You’re not an addict,” Tom says.

“You’re not a slut,” Eliot adds. “Not sluttier than me. And even if you were, that doesn’t make you a sex addict—or else, a quarter of the world would be one. Myself included.”

Tom picks up his guitar to play some dramatic notes. “Sluuuuts,” he sings. “They’re just like us.”

I laugh.

He smiles over at me, then rests his hands on the strings. “What would Moffy say?”

“Fuck what Caden said.”

“Fuck what Caden said,” Tom says in agreement. “The dude you trusted to have sex with for the first time is now defaming you to the rest of the senior class. He sucks. You’re awesome.”

If they’re trying to make me “loathe” Caden the way that they do, the hatred is sitting beneath a feeling like I fucked up again. I chose poorly.

Chose the wrong guy to deflower me.

Chose the wrong time.

Almost got pregnant.

They don’t know that.

“I almost got pregnant with the worm’s baby,” I let out, just staring at the fire.

I can almost feel Tom’s jaw drop and Eliot’s eyes narrow into lasers.

Before they can speak, I add quickly. “My period was late—the test was negative, though. And that’s my news—what I wanted you guys to know.” I nod heartily like it’ll end the conversation instead of open up a new chapter in a book of doom.

Tom is still in shock. “What the actual fuck, Luna?”

Wind nips at my skin, and I slide my arms into my hoodie sleeves. “I wanted to tell you guys when I needed help going to the store, but Xander kind of thought I was acting strange. I didn’t want to lie. Kinney was there. It came out, and then Farrow helped me.” My knees bounce. “It was a whole mess that ended with a happy ending. Not pregnant.”

“The happiest of endings,” Eliot agrees, exhaling a long breath, and I catch him shaking his head. When our eyes latch, he gives me a smile that feels like a hug. It’s the it’s okay, my friend smile. It’s the I’m here for you, always smile. It’s the smile that wraps around me and makes me feel like my fuck-up is over, even if it’s still lingering behind me like a shadow. He breathes, “We don’t need any Baby Worms around here.”

Tom puts an arm around my shoulders. “I can’t believe you went through that. Moffy was there?”

I nod strongly. “It’s nice having Farrow, too. I guess that’s a perk to my brother dating someone I really like.”

Tom considers this and puts music on his phone. It plays softly. “Maybe we should get Jane to date someone we like.”

“You two don’t like very many people,” I tell them.

“Luna Hale, calling us haters,” Eliot says with a rising grin.

“I’ll wear that badge,” Tom says, his arm still hanging along my shoulder, and we sway to the beat of a My Chemical Romance song.

“With honor,” Eliot adds, “as will I, dear brother.”

I smile softly. I like that Eliot and Tom aren’t angry that I didn’t say something sooner. They just care about me, and they’re glad I’m okay.

That’s one thing I love about our friendship. It’s easy. Uncomplicated. There is no competition about information. I’m fine when they keep things with the Cobalts, and they’re okay when I go to my siblings. And when we do confide in each other, there’s unquestioning support.

“Speaking of happy endings,” Eliot shifts on his tree stump. “I’m afraid that I won’t be seeing one soon.” He forces a smile.

I go still. “What?” I look to Tom, his face turning pained.

“Caden needed to be reminded not to fuck with you,” Eliot says like it’s simple.

“What’d you do?” I look between them, eyes wide.

“I decorated his Porsche’s windshield,” Eliot says casually. “With some Shakespeare.”

“The red paint was permanent,” Tom adds. “So that asshole can reflect longer.”

I slowly begin to smile. Maybe I should feel awful for Caden, but I feel better that he experienced some kind of consequence for saying shit about me. “What quote?”

“‘The most unkindest cut of all,’” Eliot recites. “It wasn’t enough, Luna.” He scrapes his boot against the dirt, staring down at the earth. “Now hearing about your pregnancy scare, I wish I broke his windshield. I wish I bashed in the doors with a baseball bat. I wish—”

“It was enough,” I cut off Eliot, holding his gaze. “It makes me feel…better. You didn’t have to do more.” I enjoy writing; I should have better words, but it’s always been hard to articulate my feelings out loud.

I might be supporting his vandalism—but I can’t help it. He did this for me, and it feels good to have someone defend me at school.

It would feel worse having no one.

“He didn’t wear a condom?” Tom suddenly asks me, looking to me for confirmation.

My face roasts. “I didn’t think about it. I should have.”

“He should have,” Eliot refutes passionately as if to say don’t blame yourself.

But I am partly to blame. I’m just glad I’m not pregnant. I feel like the universe gave me a win, even if I chose the wrong “option” presented to me.

I’m stuck on something, though. “You got in trouble, didn’t you? That’s why you don’t have a happy ending and you can’t go on tour.”

“We weren’t exactly discreet,” Tom admits.

“You were there?” I ask. Scratch everything—they did this for me.

He nods. “Eliot did all the painting. I was the getaway car.” 

“Which is why I’m taking all the blame,” Eliot says, eyes heavy on his brother. I’m guessing this has been a point of contention.

“You don’t have to do that,” Tom snaps. “Just let’s say we did it together.”

“Then we both get in trouble, and that’s absurd when only one of us has to. Give me all the credit.”

“That’s the problem, Eliot Alice,” Tom says. “You’re a credit whore. You won’t ever let me return the favor.”

Eliot doesn’t deny this. But I learn that Eliot and Tom don't know if their parents have found out yet, but they suspect they will soon. Hence, Eliot's gearing up for a punishment. No FanCon involvement.

“I’m sorry that either of you are getting in any kind of trouble. For sticking up for me.”

“Luna with No Middle Name,” Tom replies, “that’s the kind of trouble we love getting into.”

“The best kind,” Eliot agrees with another mischievous grin.

I’m smiling, and the fire is starting to die down. Tom has stopped stoking it with twigs and branches, and the moon glows brighter.

We are getting older.

Once we graduate, our lives will look mighty different, but I know no matter what, our friendship will always remain.

I admire Tom and Eliot for doing what’s in their hearts, no matter the consequence, and maybe that’s why they’re my friends. They remind me to take bigger leaps and run in dangerous directions—or maybe that’s always been inside of me.

Maybe that’s why we’re friends—not because I need reminding to take leaps—but because I’ve always had it in me to choose not the right thing, not the wrong thing, but the perilous thing. Like them.

I imagine myself driving out to the tour bus, away from the messiness of Caden and school, towards a blanker slate and the comfort of people I know and love.

And I begin to smile.

Thanks so much for reading this month's extra bonus! We loved getting to write more friendship moments from these three troublemakers. Friendship scenes are some of our favs, and exploring more with Luna, Tom, and Eliot has been a super treat. We hope you enjoyed it!

There's still more to come this month! Keep on the lookout for the monthly and extra podcast 💗

xoxo Krista & Becca

“Troublemakers Fireside Chat," Copyright © 2022 by K.B. Ritchie