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Bug Me Anytime, Little Ladybug
There was one small box, among all the others in the mess that was Jinx's room, that she kept on her desk, under two pencil holders. She was pretty sure no robber would ever think of stealing it, and yet Jinx thought of it as one of her most valuable possessions: her thrift store coupon stash.
An ungodly amount of kitty faces and paws at the center of clearly fake, plasticky banknotes, with different editions from the past years making an appearance.
For quite a while, Jinx carried them in her wallet at all times, with the rest of what little money she had, in the event of a spontaneous thrift trip. However, when they became too many to comfortably carry with the zipper closed, she moved most of the coupons in a recycled cardboard box she decorated like nearly everything she owned: rough, neon strokes of paint markers in various states of drying, bedazzling gems and puff stickers, and, of course, her signature monkeys and skulls.
At one point, Jinx had seriously wondered if she should just move them to a bigger box and save herself the struggle of closing the lid over a tall bump of crumpled tickets. Especially when she stopped being able to put the pencil holders on it without the mugs toppling over after a few seconds of unsteady wobbling. Like many other things, she forgot day after day: she woke up in the morning, saw the lid sitting uneven on the box, pushed it down once and thought “hey, I should swap them over”, mumbled about it at multiple times, and then forgot it until the next day.
Even if she used some for, say, buying gifts, shopping sprees, and purchases of things she needed, the pile would just regenerate with the spend a tenner, get one cat deal. Around the beginning of September, the bump had grown so much Jinx just started keeping the box open. It wasn’t like the cats were going to dry up when in contact with air!
During all the time she passed hoarding thrift store coupons, Jinx wondered on what exactly she would use them for. Furniture wasn’t included in the deal, and it didn’t matter that much, now that their apartment had everything from a couch, a whole lot of bookshelves filled with Vi’s favourites and lots of embarrassing photos in ugly frames, even a cupboard with a large set of mismatched glasses, plates, pots and pans. Jinx thought about actually doing it and buying the ugliest wedding dress she could find, dye it blue in the washing machine and tear it up for funsies on a Saturday evening while she and her sister watched trash tv. That was something that she’d been saying as a joke for years, but sounded like a legitimately cool project.
The ideas and never-quite-good plans about super expensive vintage boots, gaudy fur coats or idealized piles of miscellaneous clothes and items stayed that: ideas. It had always been about the wondering, the making-up, the “what ifs” of finding it better, and cheaper, on other occasions.
So, Jinx had grown used to just shrug and say:
“I don’t know, I guess I’ll just buy myself something really nice when I see it.” without really knowing what something nice was, something so special that she couldn’t buy on an ordinary day, and kept repeating that when Gert or some other friend asked.
But oh well, life had a way of turning even her vaguest plans upside down. And this time, Jinx didn’t mind. Maybe growing up she became that bit more financially responsible (it took only five years of adult life buying 15.99 cogs plane tickets with her sister), or maybe she just didn’t mind sacrifices that much… well, not this one specifically, maybe.
Because it meant that she was staying with them. Forever.
"Isha! Come here!" Jinx called, fingers clutching rough, deep blue fabric and doing her best to smooth the creases.
She turned her head to see Isha, who had wandered somewhere over the kitchenware section, slowly and carefully make her way back to her, doing her best to navigate the narrow passages without touching all the ceramic, glass, and fragile knick-knacks that filled tables and shelves, turning around in the tightest points and minding her small ladybug backpack to avoid any fall.
The summer just passed gave Jinx plenty of occasions to put her coupon stash to use.
She had to buy shoes in two sizes to accommodate a sudden growth spurt around middle August, overalls, comfy tank tops to sleep in – and those sick Winx pajamas – , sparkly pink t-shirts, one cute dress “for parties” and tiny cargo shorts and jeans that got ripped multiple times, and that she stitched back every single one, adding embroidered bugs and stars on the seams and covering the holes. And she bought toys, or materials to make them herself: blazing summer days drifted away peacefully while Jinx disassembled old electronics, salvaged cables and teeny tiny engines, scavenged beads from old costume jewellery and connected string and fabric to make them come alive. Luckily, she had a second set of hands to help her, and another pair of eyes that never left her as she worked.
And that wasn’t even the beginning of everything that a child coming out of nowhere in your early twenties needed you to buy. Just some of the things she managed to get second hand. Jinx struggled to make peace with the fact she had to shell money for an ironing board, of all things! as September approached, and with it the need of sending Isha to her first year of school wearing only the best, cleanest navy smocks.
With all her other school supplies taken care of, and the biggest bunny backpack Jinx could find on Vinted already on its way to Zaun, the smocks were the last thing before Isha was all ready to go.
Jinx knelt on the floor, placing one smock after the other in front of the little girl, examining length and collar type and how they looked against her face.
“Hm…” Jinx bit her cheek, deep in thought, and choose the ones that looked better and had a wider neck to take off the hanger and try on. “Need to see these ones on you.”
Isha frowned and huffed. It was still too hot, and she didn’t want to put on another layer of clothing, not even for half a second. The fans Asia and Rhys put up didn’t quite reach that part of the store, and neither did any stagnant warm wind blowing from outside and hitting directly on the tallest shelves that made up the aisles.
She couldn’t really blame Isha for needing to be bribed in order to choose against her self-preservation. Not when she herself nearly passed out multiple times in three months while playing and running after her in the shortest shorts known to mankind and open platform sandals.
“Is that what you’ve chosen? Lemme see!” Jinx had told Isha to have a look around the store and choose what she wanted as a present, while she scoured the racks to find a smock her size.
She was relieved to see the child clutching a skipping rope between her tiny fingers, holding it tightly to her chest. Isha handed it to her willingly, and when Jinx took it, she noticed the handles were painted red, same color as the rope part itself, and dotted black, and that the ends were ladybug shaped, really pulling the whole look together. She was also relieved to look at the price tag, one cog. Jinx’s mind worked overtime every day to find new ways she could make Isha happy, and after all the clothes and school supplies, books, shoes… such a simple toy wouldn’t break the bank – or the coupon stash.
Suddenly, her box didn’t seem so full anymore. Jinx wished she had wasted less coupons in the past, worried about useless and less useless but unavoidable expenses: she wanted to buy Isha the whole store with everything in it, give her anything she wanted.
Without the toy in her hand, Isha was ready to try on her aprons. Jinx placed the skipping rope on her knees – carefully, because Isha trusted her with it – and worked on unbuttoning the first one.
“Well, fuck, zippers would be faster and easier, and you could lose buttons, but if you do we can sew cooler ones back on. We can do them all different!”
“Can you sew the star-shaped button even if I don’t lose any?” Isha signed, unbothered by her cursing, stopping only to tug at the sleeve so that the elastic gathering would sit at her wrist.
“Of course! And we can do graffiti on the pockets and everywhere you like it, or add the fishbones, X-s and…” Jinx’s mind ran wild with possibilities: she thought of Isha jumping around with a butterfly patch made out of scrap fabric on the front pocket, firelights in every corner and a long caterpillar wrapping around the white peter-pan collar. On the sleeves, she could embroider over any unwashable stains that she would collect during the school year, and the hem…
“Ha-ah! We’re doing graffiti up from the hem like Ekko’s coat! You haven’t seen it?”
Isha looked at her with an inquisitive purse of her pout. Isha had yet to live her first winter with them.
“Don’t worry, lil’ bug, you’re going to see it soon enough. And if you get smart about it you can steal it from him, but don’t tell Ekko I told you that.” Jinx waved her index in front of her face, underlining her smug face.
The first smock was cute enough, soft but feeling very sturdy, and a quick rummaging on the inner side to find the tag confirmed her rough estimate about when it had to be made. The lacy edges of the collar would contrast perfectly with all the rough, artistic, jinxed repairs and decorations. For some reason it made her think of her dada. Like Silco would enjoy seeing something that old fashioned and proper on a small child, at least until they got their grabby, punk hands on it.
Once approved, Isha shed the smock and Jinx helped her try on the second one, making quick work of the buttons reaching just about her collarbones. All the zipped smocks where the wrong color for her grade, or not Isha’s size, taking out the option.
Jinx adjusted collar, sleeves and twisted a loose button into place – for now. The decorative machine embroidery on the chest flap was a picture of Bratz dolls, with no missing threads: cute, cunty even. If Jinx had to pick a favourite doll, Bratz were it.
“There there, a little wash with fabric softener and it should come out all nice and soft for you. It’ll be less scrapy by then, hm?”
Isha smiled like she had just read her mind. Or maybe, just maybe, they had just spent the majority of three months in close proximity to each other at all times, and Jinx knew her like the back of her hand at that point. And her hands told Jinx that the fabric of this apron was rougher, the fibres scratching just enough to be at that point where Isha didn’t openly complain, but would visibly and uncomfortably shift in her shirt until they changed her in something softer.
This had a looser fitting collar, though, so it won on that aspect.
“And that one?” Isha pointed at a yellow apron on the upper rack, getting on her tiptoes and leaving no doubt about what she was looking at.
“The school said blue only, Trinket, I don’t think we can do anything to change their minds” Jinx explained – again. Isha didn’t get too beaten up about it: her face scrunched up for a moment, but immediately she was distracted by a loud engine purring at her feet. Her eyes lit up when Chimney Sweep suddenly jumped on the table beside them, with a fortuitous landing between a set of fine china teacups and the ugly ass statuette of a shepherd girl in Rococo garb.
Isha gasped, like she always did when she saw the black furball, and her hand shot up to stroke his shiny fur. Keeping his precarious balance amongst the fragile wares, Chimney Sweep leaned on the little girl, butting heads on the embroidered dolls and rubbing over and under her outstretched arm.
Isha didn’t notice her apron gathering loose hairs from the cat’s fur and kept on petting the animal, while Jinx took advantage of her distraction to do the un-buttoning, but still spared a second to scratch with her long nails just behind Chimney Sweep’s big triangle ears, causing the little beast to blink and close his eyes in pure bliss.
There had to be some arm-switching but then, when Chimney Sweep decided he wanted to go on his merry way, Jinx went back to contemplating one or two other aprons while Isha looked at the cat’s butt like the far away silhouette of a ship leaving port and slowly getting smaller on the horizon.
“So, you like ‘em?” Jinx asked, smile sincere but with the corners of her mouth pushing just a bit too high: she wanted Isha to choose her own things, but the mere thought of having to reach the other side of the city on bus to find Trinket’s school aprons killed all her sense of adventure.
Luckily for her, Isha nodded vigorously in front of her reflection on the mirror.
She had wanted to try the first apron back on and even asked Jinx for a photo, which she happily and enthusiastically took – she took more than one –, then forwarded without missing a beat to Vi, Ekko, and that old ogre Sevika. Hell, she sent it to Gert because she just wanted to show everyone how cute and funny the little bug-eyed girl looked with her hair up in two space buns and swimming in a sea of blue fabric reaching past her knees.
Then, Jinx focused her attention back on the child. Holding the tiny hand in hers, she helped Isha spin in time with the store’s music, giggling when she stumbled at the end and only her quick intervention stopped the kid from falling with her ass on Sprinkle’s tail.
The phone in her pocket buzzed, and Jinx didn’t even notice.
“I look like a big girl!”
“You are a big girl!” Jinx barely stopped herself from ruffling Isha’s hair, instead hovering just above her head and opting to squeeze one of the little buns.
“I’m going to school like the kids on the TV!” Isha raised her arms up, with her skipping rope in one hand and Jinx’s in the other.
A sudden urge overtook her, where Jinx found herself squeezing Isha in her arms, pinching her cheeks and grabbing everywhere she could, squealing maniacally and mumbling nonsense. At first, she felt tiny fists hitting her, then Isha hugged her back before going back to hitting her arm again, all while laughing non-stop from the moment Jinx caught her.
In a surge of strength, Jinx scooped up Isha from the floor, carrying the squirming bundle in her arms to the till. In the time it took to go around the shelves and cross the rooms, Isha turned around at least three times: from having her head cuddled to Jinx’s shoulder, to bridal carry and finally almost slipping from her grasp, hanging upside down with a delighted shriek.
And yet Jinx didn’t give up, although it was thanks to her fast reflexes, and not her might and brawn, that Isha wouldn’t start first grade one head bash dumber. She turned the girl downside-up and placed her on the counter, right next to the till, that day manned only by Asia.
It was a slow hour, in a slow day in the middle of the week. The sun was going to set on the way home, and they were the only people in the store.
“My my, what do you have here?” Asia grabbed the price tag of the apron Isha was still wearing, pretending to look confused for a moment. She glanced at Jinx, then reacted to her winking by theatrically placing a hand on her gaping mouth. “I don’t remember putting something like this on the shelf!” Asia played along, typing the price on the white POS machine connected to her phone.
“Don’t you dare, I brought this one from home.” Jinx replied, handing her the rest of the goods.
“You have lots of ladybug stuff, Isha, maybe I can text Jinx the next time we get a bug themed donation.” the shop owner looked at the child’s backpack, which Jinx was carrying together with her own bag, recognizing the purchase she rang up for Ekko weeks ago, in July, when he hurried inside the store right before closing.
Isha looked fascinated by the exchange of kitty-money from her new, bird eye perspective. Asia’s proposal excited her even more, which made her smile and clap her hands.
“Do you know ladybugs larvae look like alligators?” she chimed out, at which the woman at the till stopped and stared for a second before blinking.
“Wow, that’s a long sentence… I fear I didn’t catch it. My bad, little one.” Asia quickly recovered, placing their purchase in a recycled paper bag and smoothing out the crinkles.
“She said alligators… no, wait, that ladybugs larvae look like alligators. Tiny ones.” Jinx stumbled: Isha had used the sign for puppy to refer to larvae, but there was no need to correct her, especially when she herself would have to whip out her phone or their sign language book to do so.
“No, I didn’t know that.” Asia replied directly to Isha once she got the message. “You know so many things, does this wicked mama you got really need to send you to school when you’re so smart?” she joked.
“Believe me, wicked as I am…” Jinx’s grin quieted down. Her blue eyes scanned the scarab shaped clips taming the flyways on Isha’s buns, the neat, straight hairline dividing her head perfectly in half, the baby-smooth golden skin showing under the lopsided white collar, the even brighter golden eyes and the toothy, mischievous smile she always gave her.
Did people really think Isha was hers? Did they look at them walking down the street, strolling around in their matching outfits, and think of her as mama? Was that costly lie on paper, that one that held Isha forever, true?
“…if it was for me, I’d keep her in my dark lair all day long, telling me bugs facts.”