Bianca adjusted the strap of her dress (black, knee-length, a world away from the flashy numbers she'd worn on New Years past) and inwardly cringed. This was like, six degrees of separation away from a high school reunion. Of course, Toronto was like that: those who left rarely stayed gone.

Normally, Bianca would spend the evening drinking champagne from a sippy cup while her kids tried and failed to stay up and alert past eight o'clock. This year, Jackson was at a sleep over, and Elena was visiting her father. This year, Adam Torres had asked her out.

Cursing the familiar faces all around her (who would sooner or later feel compelled to approach her and engage in small talk), Bianca glared around the bar. Either Adam was late or he was playing hard to get. Or possibly plotting something involving bad puns. Regardless, he better have planned on buying at least two of her drinks.

Prompt from stayintheroom. Pick three words. Words are living, three, bound.

--

"It's hot, Mom."

Elena put her sticky hand on Bianca's knee, leaning her head down for a moment before giving up and falling spread-eagle on the floor. It was hot. Bianca didn't know how much longer the window box air conditioner would last, or how long it and the fans would be enough to stave off the heat.

"Take us to the pool."

"Jackson, please ask politely. We don't demand things, do we?"

He pulled a face. "Mother please won't you take us to the pool." Hardly an effort, his eyes hard, leaning against the wall and not meeting her frown. Summer was hard, but she could and should be thankful for things like Jackson not seeming to have any urge to join the boys that rode bikes down the street, throwing fireworks at dogs, or the group they always passed (Jackson, with a cool nod) lingering outside the grocery store.

"The pool costs money, Jack." Bianca leaned down and tucked at Elena's hair, pieces wet and clinging to her neck. "I think for the moment you're stuck here with us, at least until another payday."

"Money is dumb," Elena sighed against the tile.

"Not arguing with you there, honey."

"Can we at least run in the sprinkler?" Jackson beat out a staccato rhythm with his fists on the wall.

It was a solid plan. "Go get your suits." Bianca smiled, feeling for once, a little less tied up in circumstance.

stayintheroom prompt #44: Your character is in a slump.

Even if no one actually told him his mom was a slut, he still knew it. He wasn't really dumb, he just never got the grades to prove them otherwise. Dumbness wasn't always easy to see. You could be quiet, and still really smart. Sometimes, he sat in class and knew the answer to every question, but never rose his hand, just to show them how they couldn't make him be like everyone else. He'd be smart his own way.

But a slut was easy to tell. The most obvious, maybe not to everyone, was that he and Elena didn't have the same dad. Maybe it wouldn't be a big deal: lots of people got married, divorced, lived together, had partners, remarried, any and all of that. Jackson didn't even know his dad. His mom always said he wouldn't want to know him. She'd sure known him well enough.

And even if no one actually told him about the way his mom acted in high school, he still knew it. Because you don't just get pregnant the summer after graduation (he was pretty good at math) for no reason. You don't just mess up once after solid gold career of abstinence.

The boxes of photos weren't hard to find, the snapshots of low-cut shirts and tight jeans... not so different from what she wore now--wearing clothes from the shop, making it look good so it would sell. Elena's dad saw it too. Jackson had tried not to see when Cam smacked his mom on the butt and she liked it. He wished he was dumb, sometimes. He wished he didn't know what happened when he and Elena got to stay the weekend at Grandma's, and when he came home, his mom smelled like a stranger.

Jackson, 15



Elena, 6