Work Text:
It is a beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon.
The birds are chirping. The sun is shining. The cars are honking. Human society is thriving. Children are pointing and their mothers are speed-walking. Camila is engaged in a riveting, rapid-fire conversation with someone named Jesus — although she doesn't have her human scroll with her, and she's talking in Spanish so Hunter doesn't actually know what she's saying at all. So, maybe it's not actually that exciting.
In front of him, Amity picks the desecrated remains of a mutilated corpse out of her hair with her face so red, anyone who isn't acquainted with her might just think she's about to pass out.
"This," Amity says, slowly, with feeling, "is not normal human behavior."
The day starts off like this:
Most of them have gathered in the kitchen-slash-dining room. Gus is gesticulating wildly while telling Hunter everything he's learned about dinosaurs so far, having recently stumbled across the wonders of the flat, rectangular human realm crystal balls and the Tubes of Mew. The wonderful smell of Camila's cooking permeates the air as she slides something she had referred to as a waffle out of the contraption aptly called a waffle iron. Meanwhile, Vee and Willow help Camila out where they can, retrieving enough plates, cups and cutlery for everyone after most of the meal prep is done.
Oddly enough, though, their group of seven is short by two.
"Are Luz and Amity still asleep?" Camila asks, looking over her shoulder while pouring the last of the batter into the iron. It sizzles, and then seeps through the edges after she clamps the machine shut with the practiced ease of someone who has done this thousands of times.
Gus instantly quiets down, sharing a worried look with Hunter. Unfortunately, Hunter doesn't know either, so the most he can do is offer an uneasy shrug.
"Luz had a hard time falling asleep this week," Willow explains, frowning as she sets the cups down on the table. "So Amity wanted to let her sleep in. But... I guess Amity must have fallen back asleep, too?"
"—Whoa," Gus breathes out before Camila can get a word in, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Is Luz okay?"
"I think so?" Willow replies, though she doesn't sound entirely sure and glances at Vee for back-up.
"I dunno," Vee admits, hesitantly. "She didn't look sick or anything, though... Just really tired." She sets down a jug of human apple blood in the middle of the table; it looks bizarrely like the apple blood back on the isles, just as bright red as Hunter remembered it. The difference, though, is in the taste and texture.
Camila clicks her tongue, the expression on her face somewhere between open concern and fondness. "Ay, bendito," she sighs. "Mi pobre bebe... You know, Luz has always had trouble falling asleep on the first weeks of school, ever since she was little. I'll check in on her later, but for now, don't worry, mijos. It's probably just that."
"So... she's okay?" Hunter asks, just to be sure.
"Yes, I think so," Camila confirms, smiling at him like he's the one doing her a favor, and not the other way around. "So let's set some food aside, and put it in the microwave so it stays warm for the girls, alright?"
"Is the microwave this one, Camila?" Willow asks, already scooping up some of the waffles onto a plate while gesturing at one of the larger appliances with a tilt of her head.
"Exactly that one," Camila replies. "Thank you, Willow."
"Good morning," someone suddenly says from somewhere behind him.
Startled, Hunter quickly turns around to see Luz and Amity trudging into the kitchen. Amity looks well put together, hair brushed and pajamas straightened out like she probably didn't just roll out of the bed, but — Luz is another story entirely. The human rubs at her eyes, still bloodshot from a lack of proper sleep, and drags her sock-clad feed across the floor like her knees are way too heavy to lift at this hour of the morning. Her hair and clothes very much look like she rolled out of bed five seconds ago and then proceeded to tumble downstairs like a heavy cauldron filled to the brim with abomination matter.
"Morning," Luz echoes, as both she and Amity join them at the table, plopping down on the two chairs to Hunter's right. "Wait, what are we putting in the microwave?"
"Oh! Morning, mija," Camila begins, surprised, walking around the kitchen island to bring Amity and Luz's plates to the table. "I'm glad to see you're up," she says, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Luz's head, and then gently squeezing Amity's shoulder shortly after. "We thought we should let you sleep in a little longer, so we were going to put your breakfasts away for later."
"Well, we're here now," Luz says, blearily, like she's here in body but not quite in spirit. "... But thanks, mami."
Camila runs her hand through her daughter's hair with a smile, trying to straighten it out a little, before she retreats to the kitchen to make her coffee.
"Sorry we're late, everyone," Amity says, leaning forward to pull her chair closer to the dining room table.
"It's okay," Willow says, depositing one plate in front of Hunter and then the other in front of Gus. Her arm brushes against Hunter's shoulder as she pulls back, just for a moment — and Hunter pointedly decides he feels very normal about that. The most normal. Extraordinarily normal. He is so normal. "Besides," Willow continues, her voice dropping to a whisper like she's about to share the details of a great conspiracy. "I like to sleep in during the weekend, too."
And then she winks, before retreating to the kitchen to help Vee bring the rest of the food to the table.
"Haha!" Hunter wheezes out, eloquently, for no real reason besides the fact that his vocal chords exist and have apparently gained a will of their own. See, so normal.
Amity shoots him a sidelong glance, serving herself a cup of apple blood before taking a long, long sip.
"Are you sure you don't want to go back to sleep, Luz?" Gus asks, reaching across the table to grab the jug of apple blood and nearly knocking over his plate in the process. Hunter finds himself reacting faster than he can register, hands darting out to move Gus's breakfast out of the danger zone before he can send it crashing to the ground. "Because all this?" Gus says, gesturing vaguely at his eyes. "Works for Hunter. But on you? Yikes, girl."
"—Wait," Hunter begins, still holding the plate of waffles above Gus' head. "What?"
"Gustavo," Luz gasps, clutching a hand to her chest. "Nay, Brutus! I resent that."
"Who's Brutus?" Willow asks, coming back with Vee to join them at the table. Luz opens her mouth to answer, looking a little more alive now, but—
"Oh, darn it," Camila suddenly says, unintentionally interrupting the conversation. Six heads swivel towards her nearly simultaneously, to see her scooping out a miserable amount of sugar out of a container clearly labeled as I'm Shocked It's Not Butter! Vegan. "Tengo que ir al colmado."
Luz perks up, seemingly forgetting all about the prior conversation in an instant. "You're going out for groceries, mom?"
"Sí," Camila says, scraping the container with her spoon and then tapping it above her coffee mug. A small amount of sugar sprinkles out, but not nearly enough for a spoonful. "We're all out of sugar. And this was the last of the pancake mix, too."
"Can I come?" Luz asks. "There's some stuff I want to pick up, too."
Camila hums, stirring her coffee with the same spoon she used to scoop in the sugar. "Depends," she says, depositing the spoon in the sink after a moment. "Do you have homework?"
There is a beat. And then Luz replies, hesitantly: "... Yes."
"Then you should write a list for me and stay here," Camila says, sternly though not unkindly. She brings her mug and plate with her to join them at the table. "Finish your homework and I'll go to the store with one of your friends. And if you get it all done early, you can spend the rest of the weekend having fun. Wouldn't that be nice?"
Luz sighs but concedes with a nod. "Okay, mami..."
The waffles are nice. Scrumptious, even. And the thing Camila had called maple syrup was absolutely the best. The odd tasting apple blood aside, it's a pretty nice, calm breakfast in spite of the fact that they are literally a world away from home.
It's a little while later, when Hunter is halfway through shoving a mouthful of waffle down his gullet, that Camila leans forward in her seat. "By the way," she begins, "who wants to go to the store with me?"
Immediately, he forces himself to choke down his food to avoid flashing his gross waffle mouth to the woman who has so graciously clothed and fed them. "Oh, oh, me!" Hunter shouts, sitting up straight. "I can help!"
Except, he says this at the same time that Amity raises her hand and shouts: "I can go, Mrs. Camila!"
A beat.
And Amity suddenly turns to stare at him, eyes narrowed. If it weren't for the fact that Hunter knows for a fact that she specializes strictly in abomination magic, he would be worried she was planning to upchuck poison all over his face like Vitmir.
"... Ooookay. Here's an idea," Camila says, clapping her hands together. "Why don't both of you come with me? Between the three of us, I'm sure we'll find everything on the list in no time."
An hour later, Amity and Hunter both slide into the backseat of Camila's car. Which, really, is only sensible considering the fact that Hunter punched the radio the last time he sat in the front and Amity almost jumped out the window later that same week when the glove box abruptly popped open on her lap. Thankfully, no lasting damage was made to Camila's car, but — well.
Sensible.
Though, not ideal.
Hunter silently buckles himself in, feeling strange about sharing a tiny, cramped space with someone he backstabbed, twice, not even a couple of months ago. And, sure, they have been co-existing relatively peacefully since then, teaming up to rescue Luz on the Day of Unity and then repeatedly collaborating with each other to find a way back home. But they haven't talked about or even begun to acknowledge what happened in the past. Perhaps it might not bother her, but Hunter isn't sure how Amity feels about it at all, beyond perhaps a begrudging sense of camaraderie over their shared goals.
So.
Sensible, though not ideal.
Camila starts up the car after she's made sure they are both buckled up, adjusting the rear view mirror and then pulling out of the driveway. To his right, Amity slides her purse onto her lap, resting both of her hands on top of the purple faux leather. Riding a car feels a lot different from riding a transport worm. It's bumper, for one, and the car lurches forward abruptly every now and then with little to no warning. Though, the car significantly less likely to eat your belongings if you dare take your eyes off them for even a minute, and Hunter does appreciate the complete lack of slime and hair between the seats.
He has no idea how far along the road they are when something dings, a little yellow light flashing in the front of the car. Camila groans in response, muttering something under her breath. He isn't sure what's up, but he finds himself tensing up regardless. To his right, he notices Amity do the same.
"Is something wrong, Camila?" Amity asks, holding her bag a little closer to her chest.
Camila sighs, and Hunter can see her shaking her head through the rear view mirror. "Everything's okay," she says, pushing a lever down that makes the car go click, click, click when they arrive at an intersection. "But the car just reminded me I forgot to fill up the tank yesterday after work, so we need to stop for gas first. Is that okay?"
"Of course!" Hunter promptly responds, despite the fact that he has no idea what stopping for gas entails.
"Good," Camila says, turning the steering wheel to make a right hand turn. "Then we'll just take a detour through here."
As it turns out, stopping for gas entails pulling into some kind of open air structure with a very tall ceiling and rows of numbered machines to the side of each pillar. Camila rolls down both of the backseat windows, just a little bit, and assures them she will be back in a minute before turning off the car and stepping out.
Hunter and Amity sit in relative silence as they watch Camila walk towards a smaller building annexed to the one they're in.
And then Flapjack, who has been snoozing away under Hunter's shirt since they left the house, suddenly decides he's had enough of that and shimmies his way out to nestle in the crook between Hunter's neck and shoulder.
"Oh." Hunter blinks, reaching up to gently scratch at the palisman's head. "Hey, Flap... Did you need some fresh air?"
Flapjack simply tweets in response, nestling down even further. His bright red feathers tickle against Hunter's jaw, though he notices they feel a bit — well. Moist, for lack of a better word.
Amity turns to watch them, drumming her fingers against her bag. "... You keep your palisman under your shirt?"
Hunter blinks, glancing at Amity in surprise. "Uh, yeah?"
"But," Amity says, scrunching her nose in a way that makes even her chin crinkle up, "you sweat."
"—What?" he scoffs, affronted. "I don't sweat!"
Flapjack chirps something Amity, thankfully, cannot understand. But that does not make Hunter's palisman any less of a traitor.
"Everyone sweats," Amity states, matter-of-factly.
"Well," he says, suddenly filled with the need to win this argument — but also knowing he absolutely will not if they keep talking about his hypothetical sweaty chest. "Where do you keep your palisman?"
"In my bag," she says, rolling her eyes and opening her purse to demonstrate. Nestled between bottle of water, a fluffy scarf and a rolled up set of reusable shopping bags, is one strangely comfortable looking palisman in its dormant state. "Obviously."
"That's impractical," Hunter shoots back. "The straps slide off your shoulders all the time! In a real combat situation, you'd lose your palisman and all your other belongings in no time at all."
Amity presses her lips together in a fine line. "I don't want to hear that from someone who owns a fanny pack."
"What's wrong with fanny packs?" He scowls, crossing his arms. "Fanny packs are cool!"
"No one should own a fanny pack, Hunter."
"Well, Luz owns a fanny pack."
"I—"
"—Kids?"
Oh.
Abruptly, Amity snaps her mouth shut with an audible click of her teeth as they both become keenly aware that not only has Camila returned, but she's also giving them a strange look through the partially open backseat window.
"Is... everything okay?" Camila carefully enunciates, clutching the strap of her purse with one hand. She glances between them, like she's trying to gauge their expressions.
"Y— Yep, everything's fine!" Hunter quickly replies before Camila decides they're more trouble than they're worth, chuckling nervously.
"We were just having a... friendly discussion," Amity adds, with a wide smile that's just a little to the wrong side of forced.
"Right, a friendly discussion!" he continues, against his will and also the best interests of everyone involved in this conversation. "Because we're... friends. Best friends. Haha, friendship."
Camila blinks, slowly, and nods. "Ooookay, I'm not sure I get it," she admits. "But I'm hearing the word friend a lot, so that's nice."
They both continue to smile at Camila, even after she's turned her back to them to mess with the machine to the left side of the car — but once she steps away to drag some kind of tube towards closer to the trunk, Amity abruptly yanks him down. Flapjack chirps in surprise, flapping his wings to hover in the air above both of their heads now.
"Look," Amity hisses, "I know we've had our... differences. But right now, we need to get our acts together and not make any trouble for Luz's mom. We need to act normal. Human normal. Got it?"
It's thoroughly insulting that she thinks he has to tell him to be on his best behavior, like he doesn't already know that. But—
He can see Camila through one of the mirrors, yawning as she stands by the car to, presumably, fill up the tank. She must be tired, he thinks, having to deal with a gaggle of children who showed up on her doorstep unannounced. Having to give everything, while receiving nothing in return.
"Okay," he concedes, nodding. "For Luz's mom."
Sensible, though not ideal.
The pact is made.
The grocery store, as Camila called it, is not quite what Hunter expected.
Though, he isn't quite sure what he expected in the first place. Maybe something like the markets in Bonesborough; a multitude of shops and stalls, all grouped together near the plaza, and each offering the individual goods that make up the contents of one person's hypothetical shopping list. Perhaps even something like Latissa, where any would-be-shoppers first need to weave their way through a series of haphazardly placed, dilapidated buildings, minding their step the entire time and hoping not to ruin their shoes by stepping on a pus bubble before they're even done shopping.
Clearly, humans and witches have a different idea of how to do their shopping.
A cool breeze wafts past him when they step into the building, following Camila inside. Hunter had quickly volunteered himself as the designated cart pusher — so that's what he does as he follows after Amity and Camila. On the other hand, Amity volunteered to help Camila double check the list, going over the items every so often when prompted to make sure they haven't missed anything before they can move to the next aisle. Admittedly, neither of them quite know how to look for the items on the list besides reading the price tags one by one. But Camila remains patient with them even when they wildly misinterpret something.
Case in point: The so-called Fresh Produce section.
Although Camila easily strides down the refrigerated aisle, Hunter and Amity can't help but to regard the various fruits and vegetables on the shelves with suspicion.
"This is... surprisingly chill," Amity says, quietly.
"Right," Hunter agrees, carefully picking up a single apple by the stem. Normally, this would be more than enough to stir the little fruitbeast into a fit of aggression. But it remains perfectly immobile, showing no signs of waking up. "Usually, there would be more screaming. And violence."
"What?" Camila suddenly looks at them in alarm, having trudged back to the cart to deposits a bag of oranges in the cart. "Why would there be screaming?"
"Well," Hunter begins, gesticulating vaguely. "You know... The fruit."
"Um." Despite his very helpful explanation, however, Camila does not look any less alarmed. "I'm not sure I follow, mijo."
"Do humans use sedatives on their fruit?" Amity asks, as a way of offering a possible answer to their questions. She squints at the bag of oranges, apparently just as confused by their appearance as Hunter.
"Sedatives?" Camila's eyes widen, her alarm rapidly shifting to horror.
"Oh, oh— unless? Are these fruit carcasses?" Hunter adds, not entirely sure why Camila seems like she's on the verge of freaking out. Everyone knows you need to be picky if you plan to consume fresh produce. Too fresh, and you will have to contact your local butcher for assistance as soon as possible. "The sign said Fresh Produce... But maybe false advertisement isn't a punishable offense in the human realm?"
Okay, so maybe they could have kept their voices down for this conversation. But it's not his fault that the store owners put blatant lies on the signs. That lady who's now giving them a funny look should learn to mind her own business, and demand honest, truthful labeling in her food establishments.
"Hold on," Camila says, lowering her voice as to avoid attracting any more attention. Now, she just looks plain confused. "You think these fruit are alive?"
"Yes...?" Amity replies, her voice a little funny as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "I mean, not all fruit. But that's why you need to buy some kinds directly from the butcher if you can't butcher them yourself."
"But you should never butcher your fruit yourself unless you're a professional," Hunter adds, solemnly. "I knew a scout in the coven who lost three of his fingers because he forgot to tickle his dragon fruit before he peeled it."
Amity sucks in a breath through her teeth, sympathetic, and—
Oh.
Camila has that horrified look on her face again.
"... N-Not that I don't think you're perfectly qualified!" Hunter quickly adds, trying to do damage control.
"... Okay," Camila says, under her breath, before she gestures for Amity and Hunter to come closer. They huddle around the shopping cart, and Hunter makes a point to ignore the weird lady who continues to stare at them like they're diseased. "I know the food you're used to eating is... different. But in the human realm, unless you have an allergy, fruit are completely harmless and safe to eat."
Hunter can't see his own expression, but he imagines it may be somewhat similar to the incredulous look on Amity's face. It's not that they want to doubt Camila's words, exactly, but everything has been a bit of an adjustment period. Though he will never, ever say this to her face — it's honestly impressive how quickly Luz adapted to life in the Boiling Isles without keeling over from culture shock. Right now, even after weeks of living in the human realm, Hunter stumbles across new discoveries that send him reeling every single day.
"Ah, I see you're not convinced." Camila taps her chin, a thoughtful look on her face, before she snaps her fingers and gestures at them to follow her again — this time a little further down the aisle. She plucks a pink and green fruit from one of the shelves, holding it up for their joint inspection. "Look at this," she tells him, "and tell me what you think it is."
A quick glance at the price tag on the shelf tells Hunter it's something called a pitahaya, but considering the fact that he doesn't know what that is in the first place, knowing the name along isn't helpful.
Still, Amity pipes up after having the same idea. "Well, it says here it's a..." She trails off momentarily, clumsily enunciating the word. "Pi-tah-aya?
"You're not wrong," Camila huffs out a laugh, holding the fruit out for Amity to hold. The girl carefully takes it with both hands, even allowing Hunter to poke at the spike-like green flesh. "But this," the human says, gesturing at the fruit with a bit of a flourish, "is what we humans call a dragon fruit."
"— What?" Hunter immediately hisses out before he can even think to control his tone. A knee-jerk reaction.
"You're joking, right?" Amity responds, looking a little bit paler than usual. "That's a joke. It... doesn't look like a dragon fruit at all."
"I am totally, one hundred percent serious. That's a dragon fruit," Camila says with a smile, fearlessly taking the horribly misshapen dragon fruit from Amity's hands to replace it on the shelf. "See how it didn't hurt us? It's perfectly harmless."
"Well, yeah..." Amity concedes, looking at her hands as if to inspect them for any signs of damage. "But dragon fruit only become aggressive when you try to peel them."
"Hmm... I don't think you're supposed to peel our version of dragon fruit, anyway? I usually just cut into it with a knife," Camila easily replies, like that's not one of the most hardcore things Hunter has ever heard. He's known bigger, tougher men who have gone straight to the healing coven after foolishly attempting to plunge a knife into a sleeping dragon fruit. "But if you want to see a fruit you do peel, I know I wrote down bananas somewhere on that list."
"—Bananas?" Hunter gaps, before he can think to stop himself. Amity raises both of her eyebrows at him, while Camila looks at him in surprise.
"Yes..." Camila nods. "You know what they are, Hunter?"
"Not... exactly," he admits, sheepish, before quickly injecting some confidence into his voice. "But! From conjecture, I can summarize they are dangerous artifacts whose name you should only invoke in the most perilous, precarious of times. Does this mean we should brace ourselves for such a situation in the near future?"
Camila blinks.
And then, slowly:
"Oh, honey, no."
As it turns out, bananas are not, in fact, forbidden artifacts of doom meant to be spoken of only in hushed whispers. They're just sweet yellow fruit meant to be peeled and eaten, or peeled and baked into pastries, or even peeled and blended into smoothies — so forth, so forth. Saying something is bananas is just another way of announcing a situation is absolutely insane. Supposedly.
But even Camila's very helpful crash course in bananas isn't enough to keep Hunter from giving the yellow fruit wary glances as they slowly make their way from the produce section, across the store to fill up their cart, and then finally to the cash register.
"Did we get everything on the list, Camila?" Amity asks as they step into the queue, Hunter lining up the cart at just the right distance to avoid bumping into the person in front of them.
Camila hums, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she reads through their shopping list one last time. "Hmm, let's see... We got our apples, onions, garlic..." she mumbles, her voice occasionally alternating between nearly too quiet to be heard clearly and just outright humming that sounds vaguely like the word she's reading. "Dinosaur nuggets, the Azura edition Powtarts for Luz, coffee for me— ay, no. Did we grab sugar, Amity?"
Amity shakes her head, eyes wide. "Oh, shoot. It wasn't on the list."
Camila clicks her tongue, glancing down the queue as if to check for something. Apparently satisfied by what she sees, she tucks the list into her purse and offers them a small smile. "I'm going to go grab a bag of sugar real quick. Stay in line, okay? And if you reach the conveyor belt," she says, helpfully gesturing at the black strip near the register, "then you can start putting our groceries up. I left our bags on the bottom of the cart so you can pack, but I promise I'll be back before we have to pay."
Simple instructions. Theoretically, very easy to follow. Naturally, Hunter and Amity smile and nod, reassuring Camila that they will be fine while she fetches her sugar.
And for a while, they are fine.
But then the line keeps moving. With every satisfied customer that leaves, Amity and Hunter move closer to the cash register. And with every step they take, they become more and more aware of the fact that they don't have a single snail in their pockets. Neither of them is looking forward to stalling for time if push comes to shove — assuming they don't go straight to the human conformatorium for not being to pay for their groceries right away.
"Do you see her?" Hunter finds himself asking, glancing over his shoulder in hopes of seeing Camila emerge from any one of the aisles. Still, there's no sight of her.
"No... But it hasn't been that long. Let's just keep waiting," Amity replies. She would be the very picture of poise and calm, if not for the way she keeps wringing her hands together while shooting a glance over her shoulder every now and then.
Hunter licks his lips, nervously. "You don't think this is some sort of... test, do you?"
And for a moment, Amity goes very, very still. Then, the moment passes, and she slowly shakes her head. "No," she says, firmly. "No, Camila isn't like that. She's Luz's mom, for Titan's sake. Wouldn't we already know?"
Right. Of course.
So they stay quiet, shooting a nervous glance at the aisles behind them every couple of seconds, and then stacking their groceries on the conveyor belt just like Camila told them to once it's their turn. The cashier quickly rings their items up, sliding them to the other side of the cash register where they both help pack everything up in the reusable bags. Nerve-rackingly, there are only a handful of items left to ring up — when someone walks past the queue and deposits a small bag of sugar in front of all their items.
"Phew, looks like I'm just in time," Camila says, offering them an apologetic look when she sees just how many items they've bagged already. "I swear, it's like they put the one thing you forgot all the way across the store every single time."
Camila pays for their groceries with a card, just as she promised, and then all that's left is to head back to the car and put their groceries away in the trunk.
With all of them pitching in, they find themselves emptying the cart in no time flat. Camila double checks to make sure they haven't left anything on the bottom, before turning her back to the car in order to push the cart to the corral while Amity and Hunter rearrange the spoils of their shopping trip to make sure everything fits in the trunk.
But—
That is when it happens.
Hunter isn't sure how it happens, precisely. All he knows is that one moment he and Amity are both reaching for the same bag, not really noticing the other's intention until they each have one strap in hand, yanking it in opposite directions. The next — something big and yellow comes flying out of the bag, in a direct trajectory towards the back of Camila's head.
"Camila, watch out!" Amity shouts in alarm.
But Hunter has been trained to act, not react, his entire life. And before he knows it, he's kicking the flying object right out of the air and watching it splatter on the ground in one, big, gooey mess. Chunks and pieces splash onto their bodies, sticking to their skin, clothes and hair in a way that's a bit too reminiscent of putrefied, green goo — and Hunter firmly puts a stop to that thought process right there and then. On the lane opposite to them, too far away for Hunter to hear what they're saying, a young boy points at the mess while the woman accompanying him shoots them a dirty look and hurries along.
Come to think of it, Hunter thinks that's the same woman who kept looking at them in the produce section. Absolute weirdo.
In front of him, Amity picks gooey, yellow chunks out of her hair while a furious blush spreads its way past her nose, across her cheeks, and then all the way down and around her face. If it weren't for the fact that he's seen her turn this particular shade of red before, he would think she was about to have a syncope and pass out.
"This," Amity says, in the tone of voice of someone who has experienced the painbow, "is not normal human behavior."
"Oh, Jesus," Camila gasps, swiveling around where she stands with one hand still clutched to the cart. She says something in that moment, as she looks at the two of them first, and then lowers her gaze to see the splattered remains of what once was a fruit on the pavement. But she's speaking too fast and too quietly, and Hunter can't catch a lick of it until she touches her other hand to her forehead and stares at them. "What happened to the bananas?"
"Um," Hunter begins, eloquently, glancing down at his feet. The toe of one of his boots is coated in what may or may not qualify as the banana's yellow entrails. "We can explain?"
He doesn't know how he would even begin to explain the attack of the flying bananas, but they can still try.
Luckily, Camila isn't mad over the bananas. She's not even disappointed, which is arguably worse.
The bananas are scrapped off the pavement and deposited into the nearest trashcan. Their clothes and hair cleaned up with the help of a packet of baby wipes Camila carries in her bag, apparently just in case a disaster like this happens. On their way home, she even thanks them for their help and gets them a small treat from the Burger Queen drive-thru. Which is nice, but weird. Though mostly nice.
The truce survives in the name of keeping Luz's mom happy.
And then Amity finds him in the basement, sometime after they have both thoroughly showered, and unceremoniously shoves a clean but slightly musty backpack in his arms with some kind of cartoon design on the front. It carries the telltale scent of something that has been stored away, and has not seen use in a very long time.
Hunter lifts both of his eyebrows at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation that may never come considering the fact that Amity is already halfway up the stairs. He quickly gets up and chases after her, calling out before she can reach the door. "Amity?"
Amity stops with both of her feet on separate steps, looking over her shoulder and down at him. Something odd flickers through her expression, and she sighs. "That," she says, pointing at the bag in Hunter's arms with one carefully manicured finger, "is for Flapjack. Two straps means it won't easily slide off your shoulders, right? So there you have it. Now you have no excuse to shove him down your sweaty shirt."
Hunter opens his mouth, but in the second it takes him to think of a response, Amity has already bolted up the remaining steps and left.
Despite himself, Hunter finds himself smiling as he makes his way back down the stairs.
"Hey, Flap," he calls out. "Come check this out."