Jenny Park, Nonsense Upon Nonsense

Jenny rubs the bridge of her nose and, in a display of sheer determination, takes another run at it. "Okay. So. First off. Donna is fine. Right?"

"Yes." You glance towards the girl in question, still rather pale but looking none the worse for wear as her brother and several Woo Girls fuss over her. "Her doctors said Gal probably used some sort of sedative on her. She's supposed to take it easy for a while, but she'll be okay."

"Okay. Good. And Gal is...?"

"Out of the picture. Ardored."

"Right. And that happened because...why, again?"

"She was trying to blow up the Great Mother, and inadvertently broke the Family Taboo."

"Uh-huh." Jenny massages the corners of her eyes again before pushing forward. "And that's because he,"--She points a finger towards Asher--"Was that mountain of testosterone plowing her."

"Yes."

"And he's your father."

You shrug in a display of disinterest, folding your arms under your chest as you flick a cool glance towards the man. "I mean, he's not my father."

Jenny's glare should by all rights freeze you in a block of ice. "Jesus, Ash; will you work with me here?"

"Ugh. Fine. Yes. It is scientifically accurate to note that half of my DNA comes from him."

The man decides that's probably as good of an introduction as he's going to get. "Hi?"

The Korean girl doesn't seem to know precisely what to do with this information. "Uh, yeah. Hi. You've actually met my mom before, you know."

Asher furrows his brow. "Oh. You mean in the new pa..." He trails off at your warning glare, then tries again. "I mean, uh, when?"

"Miss America '99? She was the runner-up. I remember my mom telling Ash's that you were the host that year?"

Asher brightens. "Oh, that actually happened!" He flinches at your redoubled glare. "Er, I mean, I remember that. And her, I think. A lot has happened since then."

"Right. Obviously." Jenny takes in a giant breath, then lets it all out in an exhausted huff. She keeps glancing your way, clearly to see if you're alright, and it's starting to annoy you. Look, you get it: Jenny's fully outside of the first Awareness Bubble. And as a result, to her, this man in the ridiculous Tweety Bird shirt is the long-lost father of her best friend. But seriously, you're fine.

A memory bubbles up unbidden: it's midnight at your eleventh birthday slumber party, and you're weeping in Jenny's arms because five hours earlier Sophie von Groff had asked your mom where your dad was. Fuck. That did not happen.

Yes it did. Goddammit. "Jenny, I'm fine."

She doesn't seem convinced. "If you say so."

"I am."

"Well good, because there's way too much going on for me to handle alone right now. Rhys was a mess all night, my mom's due date is coming up and they need me at the house, I have a ritual to prepare for the offensive line tomorrow, Quinn's freaking out and--"

Oh shit, Quinn! You cut in. "You mean you found him? That's great! Is he alright?"

Jenny spreads her hands out wide, helpless. "I have no idea. He says he won't talk to anyone but you. He's still holed up in my car."

Fuck, that doesn't sound good. "Alright, I'll go talk to him. Hang around for a bit? Just to make sure one of the girls doesn't try to drag this guy away for a screw." You make a show of reconsidering that. "Actually, you know what? Let him screw it up; not sure why I should care."

Jenny sighs. "Ash..."

"I'm joking. Or maybe I'm not! Look, just..." You let out a breath, silently willing yourself to at least make an attempt at being more reasonable. "Just give me a few minutes, and then you can split. Okay?"

She nods reluctantly, Asher watching her head back to check on Donna. Once she's out of earshot, your supposed father addresses you in a low whisper. "I thought you said I'd have new memories when we came back. I don't think I do."

Your newfound attempts at tolerance come crashing down. "Look, you've got to give it a while, okay? Jesus. Just go sit over there somewhere and be grateful the world isn't cramming your new past directly into your brain in one shot. Unless you think psychic grand mal seizures sound fun. Sure isn't my scene, but whatever."

Whatever response he might have is lost to the wind, because you whirl around to stomp off to where Jenny's car is still idling. God, this fucking guy. Yes, he's been through a lot. Yes, you aren't allowed to dictate how people process their own trauma. And yes, it's not fair to hold him responsible for indirectly making you and your mother sad in a reality he doesn't even remember yet. But seriously. This fucking guy, right?

Well forget about him for right now. You've got nothing but warm feelings for Quinn, and it sounds like he needs you right now. So that's him in Jenny's passenger seat? It's a bit hard to tell with his hood pulled up like that. He jumps when you lightly tap on the window. "Quinn?"

He pauses for a long moment, then silently nods in affirmation.

"Can I come in?"

After another pregnant pause, the door locks pop open.

You slip into the driver's seat, brow knitted in concern as you take in the huddled form of Quinn. Why has he bundled himself up in that giant hoodie? "Quinn, what's wrong? Did something happen during the game?"

Quinn can't hold in a snort at that. "Um, yes."

"Well, what was it? Because I heard you were doing really well?"

"I wasn't doing really well. I was amazing." His voice sounds different somehow, but you can't place it. "It was like I could finally be exactly who I knew I could be out there. It was perfect."

"That's great, Quinn!"

The boy lets out another breath of air. "I mean, yes. It was great. It is great. But when I got back to the locker room at halftime, I started to realize that, er...I noticed some things. About me. Changes. And maybe fully realized a few facts about myself."

You tilt your head to one side. "What, you mean that you're gay?"

"What? No." Quinn doubles back. "I mean, yes, I am; that's not what I'm talking about. Are you, um...familiar with the term 'gender fluid'?"

Ohhhhhhh okay. The final piece has finally snapped into place. Now it all makes sense: Quinn's fluctuating interest in makeup and girly hairstyles, the way he strikes you as deeply masculine some days and curiously feminine on others. "Quinn, if you're gender fluid, I think that's great. Thank you so much for--"

Quinn interrupts your heartfelt support. "Ash, wait. I mean yes, thank you; I really appreciate it. But, um..."

He straightens up, reaching down to pull his baggy hoodie taut around his chest to reveal the unmistakable bulge of a pair of breasts.

"I don't think most people are quite this fluid about it."