A few may have come across the original version of this story over at the other site. I was happy with it at first, but with every reread I got more and more unhappy with it. The narration didn’t work, too many characters lacked depth, and I didn’t really have a good idea of how to go forward. So some revisions were necessary. Weak characters either got fleshed out more or cut out right, characters that previously didn’t have arcs got them, and most importantly, I solved the mystery that is the inciting event where as I previously planned on leaving it an open question. It’s ambitious, it’s my first novel so I don’t expect it to be the ABDL Anna Karenina or anything, but I want to share something with all of you that I hope is better than boring wank fiction. I wanted it not be about the diapers, but rather the girl wearing them and what her being outed does to her, her family, and the people around her. Like I said, it’s a novel and at the pace it’s going, it’s going to top out at over 200 pages. And I think something like that will get better play here since this site has a more literary bent than DD does. With all that said, I hope you enjoy ‘LilBrat’ as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, criticism (constructive or otherwise) is appreciated.
Chapter 1
Veronica could barely tune into the teachers lecture, she could barely focus on her work, she was shaking with anticipation and anxiety alike. “Soon,” she thought to herself. She kept stealing glances up at the clock. So very close to lunch break. Her bladder pulsed a steady aching pressure through her lower torso. So very close and she’d complete her dare.
When the bell finally did ring, Veronica did her best to appear as nonchalant as possible. She felt like everyone around her must hear the slight crinkle, but yet she’d made it to the middle of third block and no one seemed to have noticed anything unusual. It gave her some relief, but the day wasn’t over yet. The riskiest part was upon her. She carefully, time consumingly placed her books for the class in her messenger bag, taking care to not let how she really felt be seen through the facade she was putting up. She had to keep calm, act normal and be unnoticed.
Her secret weapon for the day was the parka she slung over her shoulders. The coat hung off her like a cape and ended just above her knees. It had been her dads until he… moved, then it became hers. Rather than a normal parka like her classmates wore, this was a N-3B army winter weather gear parka. Dad’s was vintage, from one of the many surplus stores in the area. He’d made quite a few non-regulation modifications to it, such as the extra quilting that had been sewn inside or the patches from 80s and 90s punk and indy bands that lined the arms that were so long, Veronica had to roll them up a few times to get them above her forearms. The coat was clearly made for someone taller than five foot even and enveloped the miniature senior. It still smelled sweetly like cigarette smoke and cologne even though dad hadn’t worn it in almost a year. Veronica was in no hurry to get rid of that nostalgic smell.
Out in the hallway, the nylon parka swished each time the tail bounced off of her knees. Even though it was in the mid thirties today and parka’s weren’t quite necessary yet, the coat helped mask the crinkling sound Veronica knew she made with each step. She fought her way through the throng of students in the hall, side-stepping and weaving and making certain that no even accidentally bumped into her. The nightmare scenario was getting knocked down, falling on the floor and in front of everyone having her tee shirt ride up and expose the periwinkle plastic that peaked just out over the waistband of her jeans.
With a belly full of butterflies, she ducked into the second floor girls bathroom. The bathroom was crowded, but Veronica did find one stall, far the to the back and darted in. She sat down on the toilet with her pants still pulled above her waist, taking deep breaths to calm herself and still the adrenaline blasting through her. There was a hard knock on the door. Veronica’s first thought was to shout occupied, but she stayed quiet. The knocked eventually went away. She gave a wry grin at the idea that stress might cause her to start the dare too early.
After a few minutes of waiting in silence, the bathroom began to empty out. She waited a minute after hearing the last pair of feet walk out, counting to a full ‘60’ before realizing she was as safe as she could hope to be. She stood up and undid her jeans, sliding them along with her green and purple boyshorts down her waist revealing the secret she’d kept hidden all day. A pair of 4T-5T, light purple girls ‘Cool Alert’ Pull-Ups. The Princesses Elsa and Anna smiled up from the juvenile undergarment. With trembling hands, Veronica fished her cell from her jeans pocket and took the first pictures of the dry Pull-Up. Once she found one she was happy with, she opened the photo app on the phone and began the upload to Tumblr.
“Wearing to school! So nervous all day!” #ABDL #TBDL #PullUps #LilBrat #TruthOrDarTuesday" She grimaced a bit at her message that went along with the photo. It was all true of course, but it felt like someone else was typing it. Someone who liked exclamation points and lots of hashtags. Really, someone else was. LilBrat was writing it for her throngs of followers. The followers who loved her and her cute pictures and her cute little persona. LilBrat was optimistic, playful, cheerful, and confident. Veronica wouldn’t use any of those words to describe her self.
With the upload complete, she returned to her camera app and began the next, more dangerous part of the dare. She took a few deep breaths and repeated a mantra in her head, “You’re sitting on the toilet, everything is normal, it’s not going to leak.” Slowly, at first, and then the rivulet became a steady stream. She felt the warmth spread and wrap around her. Veronica didn’t understand why she savored such an odd sensation, but she did. She had first felt it five years ago, during the tail end of a bout with bed wetting. She just knew that it made her feel wild and calm and strong and weak and all sorts of wonderful, wild contradictions.
Weirdly, it made her remember those nights when her dad got up at 3:45 every morning, earlier than necessary to make it to post by his 5 a.m. report time, to check on her, and help her to the bathroom if she was still dry and console her if she wasn’t. Her satisfaction faded whenever she started thinking about her dad. Those memories, all her memories, brought her a deep nostalgia. Not in a, ‘remember how great things were ‘X’ years ago way’, but in the classic Greek way. Every joy became a wound just about one year ago.
She took a few pictures before finding one that looked good. She really had 'Let it Go", all the snow flakes had melted away and the cooling action set in. Still, it wasn’t quite enough to sap the heat that she basked in or that burned deep inside her. It was so simple, so relaxing, so good. No wonder LilBrat was happier than her, this was LilBrat’s life. Adoring fans and the simple, strange pleasure of wet pull-ups. She reopened the picture in the viewer and began it’s upload.
“Wore 'Em and Wet 'Em, So Read 'Em and Weep!” #ABDL #TBDL #PullUps #Wet #LilBrat #TruthOrDareTuesday." She gave a small grin at that. Likes and reblogs were already coming in on her previous picture.
“You are just so cute!”
“What a big brave girl you are.”
"Can I be youre daddy? Your a real cutie 
"
"Don’t Get Caught 
"
“Nudes?”
“face pix sometime? Please??”
“Messy Pix PLEASE!!!”
Even the weird comments made her happy. Someone out there liked her enough to say so. Even if it was LilBrat they liked, Veronica absorbed some of that self esteem with every comment. There were people out there who liked her. Once the urine had absorbed into the pull-up, Veronica pulled her boyshorts and jeans back up before slipping back into her cavernous parka and opening the stall door.
“Why not give them something else,” she thought? The mood had taken her and after being anxious all morning, the satisfaction of completing the dare laid out by random Tumblr followers gave her the courage to take another, more risky pic. Walking across the the sinks and the bathroom mirror, Veronica fished the phone back from her pocket and opened the camera one more time. She held the phone out, obscuring her face in the mirror with it, and with her other hand she hiked up the front of her shirt, exposing once again the periwinkle sliver that stuck up over her jeans. A second later and a third picture was taken. Before it even showed up on the display screen though, the door opened. Veronica quickly shoved the phone into one of the many exterior pockets of the voluminous parka as the girls walked in. If it had to be anyone it had to be them, The Bitch Clique themselves.
Kim Chandler was their leader and on everyday’s she work pink. At least pink something. A more genial shade of scarlet than Veronica felt herself beginning to sport. Kim had all the ingredients of being a mega-bitch; rich, captain of the cheerleading team, perpetually oranged from tanning. She didn’t have to say anything to be intimidating and put you in ‘your place’, her presence was enough. Flanking her, were her two sidekicks. Emily Duke and Taylor McNamara. Emily was a little less everything than Taylor. A little less blonde, a little less orange, a little less pretty, a little less thin, a little bit smaller boobs.
Veronica had made a good few years by keeping her head down. These three had a reputation for ruthlessness that made anyone want to stay out of their way. She disliked them and was intimidated by them, but her true ire was for the one to the right of Kim. At 5’7 she towered over not just Veronica but stood well above the other two as well. She was pretty in a way that hinted at how hard she tried to be pretty. Her skin was shiny with make up. Her curly blonde hair started out life neither curly, nor blonde. Her smile had obviously made an orthodontist very, very happy at some point in her life. And her body had been sculpted into perfection by years of dancing.
Veronica knew all this, because at one point, she knew the real Taylor McNamara. She had been best friends with a gangly girl with a mousy face sprouting frizzy brown hair and thin lips hiding gaped teeth. Veronica was even beside her in a picture from over a decade ago in their beginning ballet leotards. Veronica moved away first seven years ago, then ended up in Alaska five years ago. The thing that had eaten Taylor showed up two years ago and wanted nothing to do with her former best friend.
Veronica didn’t know if it was fear or urine they smelled, but Kim’s eyes lit up and the daggers came out. “I didn’t know we were doing Junior High visits today? Are you lost little girl?” Kim cooed at her. Veronica burned bright red with humiliation. What shamed her wasn’t the comment, it was feeling the comment so much. She’d felt so good after posting the photos, but here, without her phone covering her face and being mocked by these three girls, her joy turned to ash. The very things that made her like herself as LilBrat; her petite build, flat chest and diminutive height were the things that made her loathe how she looked as Veronica Klein. She became keenly aware of all the parts of herself that she didn’t like. Her Grecian nose became huge and her strong jaw because mannish in her minds eye. Her now wet pull-up made more noise now the factory that made it did.
“Aww, she’s shy.” They all began to fake coo, their voices dripping with condescension. Even Taylor. Even Fucking Hateful-Taylor. “I don’t think you belong here little girl, maybe in a few years you’ll be big and grown up enough to be here.” The all giggled, the trio had organized into a semi-circle behind Veronica, trapping her.
“Say something!” She screamed internally. “Say something! Just stand up for yourself for once!” Veronica washed her hands in silence, with her head down. When she was finished she was forced to push through the half circle of taunting girls. All 90 somethings pounds of her bony body took a body check and bounced off the little bit bigger Emily Duke.
“Oops, look out Little Girl.” She snidely teased in her displaced southern accent. It had a subtle twang to it that indicated Texas to Veronica. She had spent some time in Kileen around Fort Hood and in her ‘travels’ had developed an ear for accents. Rather than pushing through Emily Duke, she pushed through the tall girl who had once been the gangly, mousey girl. With her head bowed, she pushed through and made for the halls, face blazing and ears ringing with the lingering laughs.
“Those eyes” she thought as she made for the common area, “those fucking eyes.” What was behind them hurt and angered and cowed Veronica more than anything. Deep behind those eyes she could almost see the girl she’d adventured around Torii station with saying sorry to her. She hated that part almost as much as she hated the Thing That Ate Taylor.
The commons area was decked out in crimson and gold, banners hung from one wall announcing past sports championships. Paper banners with phrases like “Go Wolves” or “WVHS” or “The Kings in the North!” had been drawn up and hung of the balcony and stair landings by the cheerleaders to get the school excited for hockey season beginning later in the week.
“Idiots, I wonder if they actually know what happened to the King in the North or if they just think it sounds cool” she grumbled under her breath. On the other wall were columns of graduating class photos. “Not too much longer now” Veronica thought as her eyes swept those portraits. “Little more than six months,” she though, “Just six more and I’m free. I get to leave Fairbanks and never have to see any of them ever again.”
She’d already begun looking for colleges, preferably ones that would let her study abroad. She wanted to go back to Okinawa and feel the warm, humid sub-tropical wind blow in from the sea and visit all the shops in Okinawa city where they went at least once a month growing up. She’d lived eight years on the island where all of her firsts remained. Her first crush, first lost tooth, first sleep overs and first friends. Then some so-and-so retired and dad was the only one to get Dix back up to speed. Then it was Hood, then it was Campbell, until it after two more cities it was Fairbanks.
The commons area was crowded with people, most had settled down for lunch at the tables but Veronica was headed for the outside. An snowy early November had dumped some two feet outside and today was the first day where it was warm enough, at a balmy 34 degrees, for the school to allow students outside during lunch. That meant that her friend Alex would be out with her boyfriend at the hackey sack circle that formed every time they got to go out.
Outside, Alex Baldwin was sticking tight to the side of her boyfriend, Benji Machado. She was a tiny, chipmunk cheeked Athabaskan girl with bolts of hot pink streaking through her short dark hair. He was originally from San Diego, his mom joined up with the air force and after being bounced around, he ended up here. He was the prototypical slacker, but Alex liked everything about him, from his lean, muscular body to the fact that he could play guitar in a loose collection of guys that called themselves a punk band.
“I think they even like when they fight”, Veronica thought as the couple were famously on and off.
“Hey Ronnie!” Alex shouted and gave a big, energetic wave. Alex was all energy.
“The better to balance out my lethargy.” Veronica mused.
“Hey yo, Ronica” Benji broke in, “you mind running back in and getting a few of us some drinks?” The circle had swelled to twelve people, and four nodded along with Machado. Veronica shrugged and dropped her messenger bag by the wall and went around, taking orders and two dollars at a time from each person before trudging back into the commons. “Thank’s Ronnie!” Benji shouted over her shoulder as the door closed behind her. She ended up feeding ten dollars into the drink machines and brought back three Mountain Dews, a Pepsi, and a diet Mountain Dew (she assumed for another one of the circle members girlfriends). She got herself a water as well and headed back outside, juggling six 20 ounce bottles in her arms. Halfway back, one slipped and fell to the floor. One of the Mountain Dew’s rolled over towards the table that she would like to go towards even less than the Bitch Clique table. The hockey teams.
Seeing an opportunity to be a jerk, Corey, another brat from somewhere in the south by way of Kansas, stood up from the table and gave the bottle a running soccer kick. The bottle exploded from the force and was shot up, hitting the second floor balcony. Cheers and laughter rang out. He pumped his arms and flexed, making a show of it as he got taken off to the office. Knowing the reputation that the West Valley Wolves hockey boys had, he’d get off free, hell the principal and him might even share a joke. Veronica just stood still with her vision locked on her Converse as the laughter died down, burning again from the inside.
“Hey,” she looked up to see a face that had been a fixture in her mind since sophomore year looking back at her, “that was a shit thing Corey did.” It was Peter Bonham, her brothers former ‘protege’ from when he was captain of the Wolves and the current captain of the WVHS team. “Can I get you something else maybe? Make up for it?” Veronica’s mouth didn’t work in Peter’s presence so she just nodded. Peter was tall, broad shouldered and nicely muscled with an always smirking, always stubbled boyish face coated in the same red gold hair that formed a short tangle of thick curls. He’d always been nice to her because at one point he’d practically idolized her older brother Mark. Nice was all it was though and Veronica knew that Peter didn’t see her the way she’d seen him for three and a half years. As she walked quietly behind him words rung in her mind.
“Sorry for your loss Veronica.” The hug as she cried all alone in the reception room at the viewing. Coming back to school. The note. “You think he likes you!?” The teasing. The mocking. “Someone like him would never like you!” The teasing. The mocking. The kiss on her forehead in a quite room.
“Pepsi again?” Peter shook her out of her thoughts with his question.
“Oh,” she said startled, “Yeah.” He put two dollars into the machine, the Pepsi popped out and he handed it to her and off he went. Off Veronica went too, this time without any jocks punting carbonated footballs onto the second floor catwalk. Back outside, Alex was too busy chasing the hackey sack up and down the snowy hill whenever it was flung away to pay much attention to Veronica. She passed out drinks and slouched down by her messenger bag to read. It caught her eye that her wallet had slid out of the pockets of her coat. She grabbed it and stuffed in an interior pocket this time. The downside to the N-3B was it was so baggy, stuff had a habit of slipping out from time to time. She reached into her bag for the book, it had been one of dads. It was by Arthur C. Clarke and had these aliens in it that looked like devils. They’d just revealed themselves and it was really starting to pick up. If she didn’t have Alex to talk to, she’d rather finish it than gossip and small talk with the girlfriends of the other players in the circle.
Lunch was over soon and Veronica followed Alex as she skipped inside. Alex had no other means of locomotion than skipping, aside from possibly bouncing. Veronica kept pace with a trudging march.
“Did you get you’re Spanish done?” Alex asked as they stopped at her locker.
“Yeah, it was pretty easy. Just some vocab work.” Veronica said.
“Awesome!” Alex cheered, “Can I see it before Mrs. Simmons takes it up at the end of class? Word is were not doing ANYTHING today in there.” She rolled her eyes. Doing nothing in Mrs. Simmons’ Spanish class meant watching telenovellas while she caught up on her grading.
“You can look at it Alex, but it’s vocab. Writing sentences? At least come up with some of your own this time, you got us both caught last time.” Alex frowned, although not because of what Veronica had said or reminded her of, more because what she wasn’t saying in the distant, pensive tone she replied in.
“You OK, V? You seem depressed. Like, more than usually so.” Beneath her sunny, carefree slacker outer shell, she was more perceptive and intelligent that she let on. Veronica sighed and shrugged.
“I fine.” Alex knew it wasn’t true but left it at that.
"Don’t worry, I’ll be back from Korea as soon as I get their mess all sorted out. They just need a good 25B I.T. guy to come in and write the ship and get the phone lines working again. Don’t know how they made such a mess of it. I’ll have to stay another week. How 'bout we all go something as a family when I get back, haven’t had a vacation in a long time. Miss you Ronnie, love you. Yes, we can Skype everyday dear.
Two men in dress uniform at the door. “We’re sorry to inform you but Richard Klein…” Mom crying. Mark punching a wall. Me. Numb. 343 days ago. 11 months and 8 days ago. 11 months, 13 days ago, Peter Bonham in the quiet room. You look lovely. Your father would have loved this. You’re so strong. No.
“How could I expect her to keep up with the date” Veronica thought. In class, she skimmed ‘Childhood’s End’, her mind fixated on the anniversary that awaited her. Her encounter with Peter had stirred memories she devoted a good deal of conscious attention to not thinking about. Beside her, Alex paraphrased the vocabulary sentences as best she could without getting them both caught. The telenovella was playing loudly on the giant, school issue CRD TV that had been wheeled in on the giant, school issue cart. Rather than continue skimming, and with Mrs. Simmons clearly not paying attention, Veronica went to her coat pocket to pull out her phone and begin using the internet.
Her hand probed the outer right pocket of the coat but only found a few dollars in mixed cash and change, a wallet and her house keys. A search of the outer left pocket revealed nothing at all. Veronica checked her jeans pockets, the inner pockets, and even the floor around her. It was gone. Her phone, with her pictures on it, was gone.
Chapter 2.
Veronica was on edge for the rest of the day. It would have been bad enough to only lose the phone, but the pictures on it were what concerned her most. If they got out…she didn’t even want to think about the consequences. After Mrs. Simmons and her telenovellas, she went down to the school principal’s office and made a report with the secretary and, after the requisite admonishment that students were not to have phones outside of lockers during class hours, a report was taken; type of phone, casing, the works. She’d be notified if it turned up in the lost and found.
On the bus ride home, her mind was partially calmed by a fact she previously hadn’t considered. Her phone was screen locked, only someone who could guess her password could even have a chance to see the photos inside. At home, she would use the ‘Find My Phone’ app and track it down. With her phone back and with the password protection in place, there was no realistic chance that any of those photos would be seen.
“Unless someone guessed the password” she thought. It was simple enough to have her birthday be the phone lock password, but unless someone knew her birthday was January 1[sup]st[/sup], 1998 there was little chance of them arriving at “1198” based on a guess. The idea that it was out there and she didn’t know where it was had gone from existentially terrifying to just ruining her day. Worst case scenario now, she imagined, was having to pay for a new phone and listen to her mother lecture her about being more responsible if it didn’t turn back up.
The gray sky was beginning to spit flurries again. It had stopped shortly after lunch, but now it was beginning to pile up. Veronica’s Conserve sunk through the clean white powder, letting the old gray snow creep in through the eyelets on her sneakers and soak her thermal socks. They had been a bad choice, but soon, snow-boots would become the hot new item for everyone in town and she wanted to wear her Chucks until the last possible moment. The walk home was uncomfortable and reminded her of how happy she was that it was all almost over.
"Dad’s Home!"
The thought reflexively burst into her mind when she saw her older brother’s truck parked in the driveway rather than plugged in and left running in the garage. It was a thought that made her curse herself. It just meant that Jordan was having someone over and let them take the garage. Or maybe Jordan had went hunting? He’d talked about making one last go before the season ended for a bit now. Or, likely as anything, he pulled the car out so he could light up in the garage and mom wouldn’t smell it in the house. Typical.
Before coming inside, she checked the mailbox. Nothing, at least for her. Mom got stuff, bank statements and invites to seminars and conferences. Jordan got a few things, a bank statement and video game magazines, but nothing for Veronica. The wait was worse than the SAT had been. Somewhere out there, acceptance letters from Stanford, University of Hawaii, University of Washington and University of Georgia (as well as her fall back letter from University of Alaska, Fairbanks) were out there, taking their sweet time arriving due to a combination of geography and a hateful universe.
The house was just like every other house in their loose ‘neighborhood’, really it was just a street with a few other families scattered at intervals. They spoke occasionally, and Jordan shoveled the old neighbors driveway but that’s as close to neighborhood as it got. Just a stop on the bus route. They all were thoroughly winterized, with steep sloped roofs and detached garages so you could plug in your car and leave it running without the whole house dying of carbon monoxide poisoning, all so the engine wouldn’t freeze when true winter set in. It was a relief that part of her expected scholarship money that would be buying her first car, would be spent buying one that didn’t need battery plug ins, four wheel drive and snow tires. Climbing the steps, she took a moment to brush snow off the Maneki Neko statue that sat by the door and at one point had guarded their shoes when they lived in an area where leaving your shoes outside was possible.
“Momma! Daddy! It’s soo cute! Can we please get it! Please, please, please!”
She smiled at the weathered old thing, as well as her memories of the eight year Brat who made a fuss over it in store in Okinawa city that sold kitsch to servicemen and their families. Wherever she ended up, she’d take it with her so it could guard her shoes once more in a place where they wouldn’t be filled with ice and slush if left outside.
The first noise she heard when she entered the room, was a gun shot. Then her brother laughing and his friend swearing.
“Fucking team-killing camper!” Dalton growled at Jordan who was cackling. Both barely took notice of her quietly come inside, shucking off her shoes by the door to dry. The only one who said anything was Cassie, Dalton’s girlfriend, who sat beside him on the couch with quiet the evident bump under her shirt and a cigarette in her hand.
“Hey Ronnie.” She said over the noise of the boys and their Call of Duty match. Veronica nodded acknowledgment and Emily nodded back. Then she went back to reading her book. After passing all day at school, Veronica became nervous again. The idea of wearing in front of her family was terrifying and yet thrilling. Still, she was in a hurry to get changed. Her sneakers weren’t the only thing now full of cold water. Wetting in public on a 20 something degree day had possibly been ill advised.
“Sup, Ronnie.” Jordan said, not taking his eye of the game as Veronica moved through the living room to the kitchen for a soda. “Hey, don’t get anything to eat, OK? Mom called, she’s doing pizza after work.”
“OK.” Veronica said. Pizza sounded good, but she wasn’t much interested in talking at the moment. At least not until she got changed. Dalton bothered her too. He was Jordan’s best friend and was always OK to her, but he rubbed her wrong. He was underachieving personified, totally happy with working in his dad’s grocery, getting stoned and going hunting. He had been the goalie for the Wolves and taken them to two state championships at a varsity level and one final at a JV level. He was still a legend around WVHS. He was also the guy who still went to prom two years after graduating. Alone it wouldn’t be anything that bothered her. What bothered her were those words also applied to Jordan unsettlingly well.
When she knew that the announcement of the pizza was all the conversation they had in mind for her, she quietly made her way down the hall to her room, leaving the boys to continue to cheer and swear and have a great time. Her mind lingered back to Cassie and the baby. Dalton wasn’t the greatest boyfriend, and still living like a high schooler, with a fiance and a child on the way, further detracted from her opinion on him. Veronica wished Jordan would find new friends. He was as smart as she was, talented too. He had been a lock for a U of A hockey scholarship, but a bad check halfway into his senior season ruined that. Two surgeries and he still had a limp noticeable only if you knew to look for it. He still went to U of A on a partial academic, she knew, but what she didn’t know is if he still went to classes when he visited the campus.
Back in her room, Veronica hung her coat up on the rack on the door. She liked having it in here and smelling that thick nicotine perfume mixed with her, from a bottle, perfume. The walls were covered in posters, a cork board pinned with photos, book shelves and DVD racks, burdened by her original collection and swelled from her father’s inheritance. These fought for space alongside the wall with kitsch accumulated from her travels. Lots of trinkets or mementos from mainly Okinawa city but her other ‘home towns’ as well were crowed onto shelves or dressers. Her bed was full sized and took up much of the small, windowless room. Sitting on the purple and gray comforter was the only stuffie that she let it be known publicly that she owned; a soft, weathered stuffed calico cat named Gypsy Jr. she gotten after the death of her childhood family pet eight years ago. She had a few more hidden away under the bed and deep in the closet, but Gypsy Jr. was her not only her favorite but her most frequent ‘LilBrat’ picture partner. Boxes of her dads old vinyls sat at the floor of the closet where she searched for something new to put on. Eventually, she settled on a gray pullover, with some pajama pants from the dresser. Only with her coat off did she catch a full reflection in the mirrored sliding doors of the closet. The coat had been a wise choice, her dark jeans were darkened further with two, tell tale streaks that traced the curves of her butt.
“Damn.” She muttered. Of course she had leaked. Still, she was thankful for the coat. “Covering up for me like always. Thanks for the help, Dad” she said before giving a nod to the coat and then feeling both ridiculous and sentimental but mostly ridiculously sentimental. The anniversary was less than a month away though, she was counting the days and each day the shadow of that date loomed larger. Her father took up more of her thoughts and reminded her how truly not over it she was.
She slid the jeans down her narrow waist. The boy shorts from earlier were soaked through. Honestly, she was surprised she showed so little on her jeans. It looked to the world like she must have sat in a puddle. If she had the courage that LilBrat had, she’d go to the store and buy some Goodnites. Or at least something better for daytime wear than a 4T-5T Pull-Up or a Size 6 diaper. Small though she was, she still had a bladder capacity that was more than those options could handle. Of course an almost 18 year old buying Pull-Ups didn’t raise eyebrows. It could be for a sibling, babysitting, even their own kid. An 18 year old buying Goodnites or Depends would be much more conspicuous. She judged them as unsalvageable and pulled those off along with the pull-up she had flooded. She was tempted to take a picture of the aftermath, but was bitterly reminded how the location of her phone was currently unknown. She tossed the jeans in her hamper and neutralized any odor with a blast of Febreeze. Both pairs of underwear were tied off in a Fischer’s grocery sack and tossed under her bed to await trash day.
She’d learned years ago, that a shower in the morning was not something practical above the arctic circle, and it only took a few times of having her hair freeze at the bus stop to get the message. Therefore, every day after school was her shower time. In the bathroom mirror, her reflection wasn’t nearly as terrible as she’d made her self out to be. She was cute, she thought, unconventionally so maybe but she wasn’t the manly, big nosed ogre that the Bitch Clique and Hateful Taylor made her feel like. Everyone always told her she looked like her dad. It was true enough, he’d the same strong jaw, prominent nose, and cool blue eyes. They both may have even had the same hair, although Veronica never saw her fathers longer than a few fractions of an inch, her’s was the same coal black but so thick and willful as to be barely manageable as anything but a tied back ponytail or pig tails.
“Daddy. Yeah Kiddo? You know how people always say that I look like you. Of course. Well…Well what? Do people ever say you look like me too?” He laughed, big and booming.
The memory made the seven year old who asked it smile and the seventeen year old who remembered it wince. They only had three milestones left. Three, ‘firsts without dad’; the first was Thanksgiving and that was nine days away, the first anniversary of death on December 10[sup]th[/sup] and the first anniversary of the funeral on December 15[sup]nd[/sup]. She had been too numb to appreciate until after it had happened that her first ‘first’ without her dad had been Christmas. The first anniversary of him going to Korea and leaving them behind hurt bad and with these three big ‘firsts’ so close, Veronica just hoped that after the last ‘first’ she’d have an easier time. Maybe then the memories wouldn’t sting as much?
After her time in the shower, she made for her room and opened up her lap top to open up the Find My iPhone app. The results were less than helpful, a one mile in diameter circle somewhere downtown. So someone had found it. Unfortunately, downtown Fairbanks was pretty much all of Fairbanks. The city straddled the Tanana river but mostly existed as a long string of buildings and homes on Interstate 4, filling in the distance between Ladd Army Air base, the College, and the Airport. Branching off from that strip of interstate, were mostly residential neighborhoods. Downtown, in a small city like this, could mean anywhere. Tension coiled her stomach into a knot again. It wasn’t just lost, someone had taken it.
“They can’t get inside though,” she tried to reassure herself. Only if they knew her birthday. A random hit was unlikely. Still, she had to do something proactive just in case. As much as she didn’t want to tell her mom she’d lost her phone and beg for a replacement, she needed to get a new one and get her current phone turned off as soon as possible. “There may be another way.”
Veronica crept quietly on stocking feet back into the living room. Jordan and Dalton were still team killing in their death match and Cassie seemed to have made more progress on her Marlboro than her novel. Veronica stood silent in the doorway for a moment, unnoticed by the trio.
“Jordan,” she started, “Jordan,” she said again, but louder this time.
“Yeah?” He answered, not taking his eyes from the game. She saw on his screen how he effortlessly picked off targets and heard Dalton laugh at the slurs that came back at them over their headsets. The game bothered her. They both knew enough families with parents or siblings who never made it back home that it couldn’t help but make her uncomfortable.
“Can I borrow you’re phone?”
“Nope.” He clicked his tongue against his cheek while saying it.
“Come on, mine has no battery life and I gotta make a call.”
“Too bad. Plug it in and wait.”
“You can use mine, Ronnie.” Cassie put down the book and fished into her purse, tossing Veronica her phone.
“Thanks, Cas.” Emily nodded and went back to half reading, half watching. Back in her room, Veronica tried twice to call her phone, but both times it went straight to voice mail. No use leaving voicemail, if they couldn’t get into the phone they couldn’t listen to it. She sighed, maybe someone would return it? She thought that only for a moment, more like once they found out they couldn’t figure out the password, they’d sell it and make a few bucks. If no one returned it tomorrow, it was time to start looking for a new phone.
“Might get an upgrade at least”, she thought, trying to see a bright side in all of this, before taking the phone back to Emily. Back in her room, she felt an urge to do anything but homework. In her second block English class they’d been given some reading and questions to answer. It was early, but senioritis was slowly starting to take root. That and the knot of worry in her gut made her want to do anything but write a 3-4 page paper on Ibsen. Netflix, YouTube, Crunchyrole, her 3DS or any of her inherited DVD collection sounded more appealing. Still, Veronica dutifully closed her lap top and began her assignment.
None of those things clawed at the backdoor of her mind like the things she kept under the bed did as she tried to focus on the duller than anticipated assignment. Ibsen might have been saying something radical at the time, but over a century of social progress made it hard to lose herself in ‘A Doll’s House.’ Every time her mind wandered; it did so to videos or computer games or the phone she didn’t have, but Tumblr and her under-the-bed-box held outsizes place in her thinking. Taking a quick break, she put her text aside on the bed and opened her computer again. She sat cross legged on the bed and scrolled through all her new comments. Dozens of likes in a few hours. It was worth it and it made her feel good. Of course, it only drew her more to the under-the-bed-box. Unfortunately she had to be careful while she still lived at home, tossing out only at most three a week in the garbage. That wouldn’t be a problem this time next year, then she could wear as often as she liked. And not just Pull-Ups, but with own address she could get the real thing. But for now, stealth was key. Before she could drag herself back to her homework, she heard the door to the house open.
“Veronica! Pizza’s here!” Her mother shouted down the hallway. She heard the Xbox go silent in the living room soon after. Veronica sat aside her computer and left her room, shuffling down the tile floored hall toward the kitchen. “There you are, slip some boots on please and help with the groceries? If you and Jordan do it, it should only take two trips. Thanks, Veronica.” Mom’s gaze never even turned to Veronica, she was preoccupied with juggling the three pizza boxes and a few grocery bags held around her elbow. Emily had taken some two liter sodas off of her hands and was trying to be helpful. Dalton waited on the couch.
Veronica slid into her snow-boots and followed after her big brother. He was on his way back in loaded with 14 bags hanging from hands and fingers and elbows. Dad had been stocky and strong, and Jordan inherited that in spades. But he was also tall, topping out at 6’3, he was an outlier in a family where Dad was 5’8, Mom was 5’2, and Veronica stood just a smidgen shy of five foot even. He had moms sandy hair, which was shaggy on both his head and on his face but had taken both mom and dad’s eyes it seemed. They were mom’s hazel but needed glasses like Dad and Veronica did. His broad chest and stomach paunch completed the retired high school athlete look. Still, he hadn’t lost any strength.
“Left you the easy stuff sis, hurry up.” He told her as he strode past with his barely noticeable limp, carrying all of those Fischer’s sacks like nothing. It was true. Four sacks remained for Veronica, one of which contained just eggs and the other just bread. She stood on her tip toes to close the hatchback on her mom’s SUV and with some effort pulled it shut. There, staring her in the face even as she tried to avert her eyes, was the red ribbon. A scarlet gash across the back window that always turned her stomach. Mom had become big about stroke awareness, she even wore the red ribbon pinned to her blazer at work. It just made Veronica ill to look though.
Back inside, the boxes were opened on the kitchen island and Jordan, Dalton and Cassie had begun to help themselves. Rene Klein hung back though, preparing drinks and waiting for her daughter to return. Her sandy hair was salted white from the falling snow and frosting from middle age. Snow also dusted the red blazer she wore to her realty job. She was short like Veronica but rather than being rail thin she was plump and matronly. They both finished putting the groceries away before Rene spoke up.
“Thanks for the help Veronica.” Veronica just nodded. “I got a few kinds. The two Supreme’s with the reindeer sausage for the boys and a spicy pepperoni for us. Go get us our plates while I change out of my blazer, OK?” She both got their plates and once Rene arrived at the table they ate quietly while the boys carried on. Soon, a break happened in the conversation for Rene to get a word in.
“So, boys, how was the hunting today?” Rene must have known that any trip out into the woods was either short or nonexistent. Jordan gave a noncommittal shrug before Dalton spoke up.
“Didn’t go. Cas came with me and we didn’t want to leave her alone, so we just stayed and hung out. We’re off tomorrow, we’ll probably go out then.” Rene shook her head and sighed.
“We’ll, you better get something soon. Season’s almost at an end and we’ve got almost nothing in the deep freezer. Unless either of you want to go to Fischer’s on your off day to bring me groceries in a blizzard, then maybe you all should get to it, huh?” Now Rob and Jordan both shrugged. Her tone conveyed more irritation and resignation than perhaps she may have meant it too.
“The pizza’s really good.” Cassie spoke up, “thanks for letting us stay for dinner. It feels like we had to save every penny for months now. I almost forgot how good it all was hot.” Rene was much warmer to Cassie than she was to the two boys.
“Thank you Cassie, although your co-workers at College Town deserve the praise more than me. About how much longer is it now?” Cassie swallowed and smiled and placed her hand across her distended belly.
“Six weeks I guess. Maybe two months. The doctor says she’s ahead of schedule. I don’t know if we’re ready though. I’d really like to be off SNAP before she gets here though.” All eyes turned to Dalton who glowered back at Emily for a second before shifting his gaze to his food.
“You know, there’s a lot of options out there. Richard was in the army for years and it was a good life for us. It’s definitely worth considering.” This time, Rene looked just as much at Dalton as she did at Jordan. With both Dalton and Jordan cowed momentarily and nursing wounded pride, Cassie ate quietly. Soon, Dalton and Jordan did pick up a conversation again which allowed Rene and Veronica to talk.
“How was school today?” Rene began. Veronica could see the exhaustion in her eyes and in the lines of her face. Ancient laugh lines with frown lines built over them and crows feet around her eyes. Still, she was pretty. Her fair features were weathered but not eroded by time and stress and dying and death.
“It was fine.” Veronica lied. School had been stressful, it had been exciting for reasons she couldn’t let her mother know, and it had been frustrating for losing her phone. Rene didn’t seem entirely satisfied with such a vague answer, but she nodded.
“Any homework tonight?”
“Yeah.” Veronica answered.
“Well, get it done soon please.”
“I will, right after dinner.” After a short pause, Rene broached a subject Veronica didn’t think she’d bring up, at least not with company, oblivious to their quiet side conversation as they may be.
“How are YOU doing? It’s almost the first Thanksgiving.”
“Mom, I’m fine OK.” Veronica said, the defensive tone obvious to Rene. Still, she didn’t push.
“Alright, if you say you’re fine, that’s OK. But if you do want to talk-”
“Mom, I don’t.” Veronica interrupted. Rene kept talking though, although this time in a slightly sharper tone of annoyance at being cut off.
“- we can call the TAPS councilor any time. You liked Doctor Fleming at the the Veteran Center right? And I really love Doctor Keith, she’s great.”
“I don’t need anyone Mom, I’m OK, I promise.” Veronica said, before changing the subject away from her. “What are we doing for Thanksgiving this year?”
“Dad said you all were welcome to join us at our place.” Dalton interjected. The thought of spending the Holiday with Dalton didn’t particularly appeal to her. It mustn’t to her mother either.
“Thank-you, Dalton, but we’ll probably do it just the three of us.” Dalton gave a noncommittal shrug and went back to eating.
Dinner continued with Cassie and Rene talked about the new baby and what to expect and Dalton and Jordan discussed future hunting trips, bonfires, and what was going on at work. Once Veronica finished, she took her plate to the kitchen and washed it off. “Thanks for dinner mom.” She said.
“You’re welcome Veronica. Get that homework done please.” Veronica nodded and left the noise of the dining room behind her. She shut the door behind her and flopped face first onto her bed. The last thing her depression and grief needed was people reminding her that she was depressed and grieving. Homework was the furthest thing from her mind. All she wanted was to dig into her secret stash under her bed. A pair of pull-ups to take her to another world. A world of simple pleasure and innocence and peace. A world of humid Okinawa. A world of playing with mousy Taylor. A world where they were a family. They took her to a place where she was beloved and idolized, with hundreds of online fans telling her how great she looked and how much they liked her. Even if they didn’t want Veronica as a whole person, they wanted LilBrat, the giggly, cheery LG who loved her fans and posted often.
She could only wallow in her angst for so long before the work ethic instilled in her by her military family upbringing roused her from her cocoon of blankets to get to work, plowing through her Ibsen review. The review was only paragraphs away from finishing before she heard a knock on her door.
“Veronica,” her mom spoke from the other side, “telephone for you, it’s Alex.” Veronica pulled herself from her bed and opened the door, taking the phone from her mother.
“Hello?” Veronica asked. Alex wasn’t one to usually call. They were generally school friends and if they did anything outside, it was Veronica setting it up. Alex was too flighty to really plan events ahead and had too much of a social life to do much with Veronica outside of classes.
“Veronica!” Alex shouted into the receiver, “Oh my god, what’s going on?” Alex was in full on panic mode which meant this was serious. Alex never got serious.
“I don’t know what you mean, what’s up?”
“Veronica, I don’t know how but, you’ve been hacked.” Horror gripped Veronica.
“What do you mean? What’s happening?” She said with a shaking voice.
“Someone’s on your Facebook, their posting all these weird pictures and saying it’s you.” As much as she knew what was happening, Veronica couldn’t believe it. “You,” Alex said shakily, “you need to see for yourself.” Veronica thanked Alex and hung up within five seconds. She then raced to her computer and opened up Facebook.
They were all there. The three pictures from today and dozens of others from before. All from a sock puppet profile with her name that had tagged her in each of them. Her privacy settings were open and so comments were piled up underneath each of the pictures.
“What the fuck!?! SO disgusting!”
“What the Hell is This!”
“Way to share your pictures slut.”
“What a fucking baby, LOL.”
“Your disgusting.”
“I can’t believe you babysat my brother!!! FUCK YOU PERVERT!!!”
“Your a pedofile”
Veronica slammed her computer shut. Her heart was pounding in her throat and she was shaking violently. With no better option, Veronica through herself onto her bed, buried her face in her pillows, and screamed before she started to cry.
Chapter 3
“Veronica dear? What’s wrong?” Rene stood in the doorway looking concerned at her daughter, curled under the sheets in a tight ball.
“I’m sick.” Veronica said as pathetically as she could muster. She hadn’t slept all night. Her anxiety had left her shivering and the dark sleepless circles under her eyes gave an appearance of someone who was unwell.
“OK, I’ll call school then. You just get better alright?” Veronica gave a weak nod. Her mother gave her a look of concern. “I love you Veronica, if you need anything just call me. Jordan will be in the woods all day more than likely. I’ve got to get to work, get better sweet-heart.” She gave a small wave which Veronica returned before Rene left and turned the overhead light off.
As soon as she was gone and the door out of the house closed, Veronica turned on the bedside lap. Panic had held her in it’s grip all night. Thankfully, a life as a diligent student eschewing convenient skip days allowed her to fake sick today and not face any scrutiny. As soon as her mother was gone she pulled open her laptop.
Opening Facebook was an exercise in self-flagellation. The comments kept coming in. All the joy she felt about LilBrat turned to ash as comments on her photos now attacked, humiliated and threatened her. The same photos that had hundreds of likes around the world were now subjecting her to nothing but torment in her real life. She read each comment before closing the laptop and crying again. Once the tears stop coming, she curled up in a ball under the covers.
Dreams came soon after. In her first, she found herself in West Valley High’s main hall wearing nothing but a soaked Pull-Up. One arm wrapped around covering her breasts and the other making a small attempt to cover her sagging shame. They laughed at her and she begged them not to which made them laugh more. There wasn’t much more to the dream than that.
Her second dream during her early morning nap involved her father. They were in the woods somewhere and she could never quite reach him, but she could see him. His face was an unmoving mask of disapproval. Every time she came close, he turned and went further into the woods. She slipped in mud and got tangled in the underbrush but she never reached him. Finally, they came to a lake. She ran to meet him on the banks of it, but he turned without a word and walked under the water. She jumped in after him. She dove with clumsy strokes but never could reach him. He walked along the bottom like he walked upon the land and all she could do was struggle after, she tried to call out and took in a mouth full of warm water.
“Dad!” She sprung up from her nightmare. That’s when she felt the warm water underneath her. “Of all the days to wear a Pull-Up” she thought and surprised her self with a wry hollow chuckle. Her accident wasn’t big. A small, wet circle on the bed no more than a few inches in diameter. Her pants and her pull-over were wet as well and so Veronica stripped both herself and the bed and put everything into the wash. She pulled on a new shirt and before putting on a new pair of pajama pants, she reached under her bed. She pulled out both the used Pull-Up in the Fischer’s sack and a short, wide grey plastic tote. Her under-the-bed-box.
This was where she hid all of her little things. Two pacifiers shoplifted from Wal-Mart a year ago, small stuffed animals that held no deep meaning other than being cute photo accessories and some of her more ‘little’ clothing; cute, cartoony graphic tees that were great for wearing in her pictures but didn’t fit with her regular wardrobe. The centerpieces of the tightly packed collection were three open packs of girls 4T-5T Pull-Ups and 2 open packs of Pampers Size 7. She originally went to choose the newest design, the Frozen ‘Cool-Alert’ ones she had worn yesterday, but then the thought that those were the Pull-Ups that everyone saw here wearing in the photos made her not even want to look at them. Instead, she took another kind of Pull-Up, the glow in the dark kind especially for overnight. They worked better anyway. Being for night wetting they absorbed more so she didn’t have to be as careful with them not leaking.
Any other day, wrapped tight in a Pull-Up she’d feel at peace. Now it was just a reminder of what had happened. Still, while it wasn’t the panacea for her nerves that it usually was, it did get it her to relax enough to do something other than panic. She played on the Xbox One in the living room for a bit. It was technically both her’s and Jordan’s but Jordan monopolized it 90% of the time. She only played about 45 minutes before she got tired playing. She surfed through the television channels but nothing caught her attention. No book or DVD held her eye either. She wanted to open up Facebook. She knew what she’d find but she wanted to see it herself. The hate kept piling up.
“This is going to be the next eight months,” thought Veronica. She was hardly even upset at this point. She’d been pushed head long into a state of numbness. She shut the computer again and fell back on her bed. Surely her absence today confirmed that it was her in the pictures. Had it not been, she could come in and while it might take some convincing she could sway people to the idea that she was hacked and fetish pics were posted. Not everyone would believe, but it may make it possible to go to school again. “Maybe I can drop out, get my GED and go to college early.” She entertained the idea but knew her mother would never go along with it. Not unless she knew why.
She opened her computer again, this time she stayed away from Facebook and went to Tumblr. More reblogs than ever. More positive comments than ever. For the first time it occurred to her that it was a mercy that they only outed her on Facebook and didn’t vandalize her “LilBrat” page or doxx her from it. The comments were hollow now though. Every reblog was reflected back by a hateful post on Facebook. Why couldn’t she be LilBrat? People loved LilBrat. Yet these same pictures were the ones that brought Veronica was misery. She closed her computer again. How could she be two people, one so loved and the other so hated? Two people so different? LilBrat was cheery and fun, she was flirty and posted pictures with stuffed animals. Veronica didn’t really even know what she was any more. Grief, stress, school and Mom and Jordan’s extended war of passive aggression and disappointment had scoured her and left her hollow and ‘LilBrat’ lived inside that hollow shell like a hermit crab. It really didn’t make sense to her.
The day drug on slowly and boredom set in. She did manage to finish up ‘Childhood’s End’ today and started on another one of Dad’s old books, ‘Slaughter House Five.’ She read for a few hours, getting halfway in before breaking for lunch and finishing up the few remaining slices of pizza from last night. The rest of the day was an ebb and flow of doing something to take her mind of Facebook and then being compelled to check her page again. Then panic and depression setting in. Then doing something to relieve the panic and forget about Facebook for as long as she could before she drawn right back in.
The only time Veronica even left the house was when the mail came at 2:15. This days mail was hardly worth tucking her pajama pants into her snow boots to go get. Junk, bills, statements and a package for Mom from 'Scrappy Camper!". Still, no acceptance or rejection letters. At 3:30 Alex called but Veronica didn’t answer. She called again at 3:35 and 4:10 but Veronica didn’t answer and after a last call at 4:45 she stopped trying to call. It gutted her to ignore Alex, potentially her only friend left in the world, but she couldn’t bring herself to face her friend, not even over the phone. Veronica was back in her room, watching the minutes tick by and putting on a sick act as best she could as it came time for her mother to return. Her anxiety tightened it’s hold on her again when the front door opened
Veronica heard her mother make her way though the house, first dropping whatever she’d brought home with her on the kitchen table before hearing her shoes clack down the hall on the way to her bed room, which was right across from Veronica’s. The bathroom fan came on and soon after it went off again. Then came the knock.
“Veronica dear?” When her mother opened the door and peaked her head in Veronica was back in bed curled under the covers. “How are you feeling?” She asked.
“Bad.” Was all Veronica could say. Faking of not, her nerves were conspiring against her and her anxiety was through the roof, she didn’t have to try hard to convince her mom that she was still sickly. Rene Klein let out an ‘aw’ before approaching the bed and sitting down on it beside her daughter.
“No fever.” She reached over and laid her hand on Veronica’s forehead for a moment, and Veronica unintentionally flinched back. Both of them were aware of the awkwardness. They had never been touchy, and with as withdrawn as Veronica had been in the past year, she had gotten worse about it. Touching just made her more aware of the distance that had grown in that time. For a moment, Veronica saw a glimmer of hurt in her mother’s eyes. Rene Klein pulled her hand back,“That’s good,” she said, trying to move past the awkward tension as much as possible. “We can let you stay home another day if you’re still not feeling well in the morning but hopefully you’re on the mend. You must have slept all day, did you not get any of my messages I sent you?”
“Yeah, I mean, No I slept most of the day, sorry mom.” Rene Klein gave another reassuring, but sad smile. She didn’t like lying to her mom, not twice in one day especially, but Veronica could not bring herself to admit losing the phone just yet. Because then she would have to admit everything else. She hated hurting her mother. She hated it most when she hurt her without meaning too. She couldn’t hurt her like this.
“Alright dear.” Rene said in a way that made Veronica wonder whether it really was alright or not. Now she was desperate to change the subject.
“Is Jordan working tonight? He hasn’t been home all day.” Rene noticeably tensed and took a breath before beginning.
“Your brother went out hunting today.”
“Any luck?” Veronica wasn’t fond of moose but she was no more likely to trudge to Fischer’s in a white out blizza
