Chapter Text
Helen stood outside the door to the multipurpose room in the late autumn wind. Leaves whipped around her feet, and she could feel the strong breeze tugging at her hair. She took in a deep breath and opened the door.
For one brief shining moment of insanity, Helen wondered if this would be the week where she became used to the skeleton.
She was greeted by laughter echoing off the floor tiles, reverberating back at her with so much volume that Helen almost stepped back out into the wind. She caught herself and pulled the door shut behind her.
No, this wouldn’t be the week either.
The source of the noise was Gloria, bent over and clutching her stomach next to her tray of lemon squares, gasping in laughter. Helen saw her jump a little as the door slammed shut.
“Oh my goodness,” Gloria straightened up, wiping a tear from her eye. “How are you, Helen? I never get here before you.”
“Just had to drop off Landon at his practice,” Helen said, keeping her smile in place as she crossed the room and looked around, bracing herself. “I take it you were laughing at one of…his jokes,” she said. “Where is he?”
“hey,” said a voice behind her.
Helen jumped and spun around, sucking her lips so that she wouldn’t scream. The skeleton stared up at her with his unmoving grin, as if it was normal to sneak up on someone. She heard Gloria dissolve into another fit of giggles behind her.
Sans pointed at his skull. “i’m not sure if you’ll be-leaf me, but you’ve got a little something,” he said.
Helen grabbed at her head in panic, feeling something crush underneath her right hand. Had he done something to her hair? Was he sabotaging her appearance so that she’d stop coming to meetings and give up her title out of shame? Helen pulled her hand away, wincing before looking at her palm.
It was the crumpled remains of a leaf from outside.
“i guess the outdoors just can’t leaf you alone, huh?” Sans said, pulling that red bottle out of his jacket again. Helen shook her head as he walked away, taking his usual seat in the back row.
The sooner this meeting was over, the sooner she could stop questioning her own sanity.
“Sorry, Helen, I was about to tell you you had something stuck in your hair,” Gloria said. Helen looked over her shoulder to see that Gloria had returned to arranging the lemon squares. “I just had to catch my breath a bit after that joke Sans told me. It went like—” She waved her hands in the air for a moment and then giggled. “No, Sans should tell it,” she said.
The skeleton craned his neck over the back of the folding chair. “was that a request?” he asked.
Helen sighed.
“Yes, please!” Gloria said behind her.
His glowing pupils flickered towards her. “you wanna hear it, helen?” he asked.
Helen waved her hand. “Sure. Fine,” she said, walking towards the front of the room.
“ok,” Sans said, stashing his bottle somewhere inside his blue jacket. “what does pta stand for?”
“Parent Teacher Association,” Helen rattled off, placing her bag on the front table. This wasn’t a very funny joke so far. “Why do you ask?”
Sans shook his skull. “nah, i heard it stands for ‘place to avoid,’” he said, making air quotes with his fingers.
Gloria started laughing again. Helen just shook her head, pulling a folder full of papers out of her bag. “The others should be here for the meeting in a few minutes,” she said. “This is no time for jokes.”
“guess i should’ve stuck with the leaf puns,” Sans said, still leaning over the back of the chair. Gloria had to set down the tray of lemon squares thanks to another laughing fit.
Helen straightened her papers against the table with a loud tap. “You’re like one of the children,” she said, glaring in Sans’s direction. “You’re only doing that because of her reaction.”
“what can i say, i’m a sucker for a good audience,” Sans said, shrugging. He didn’t move from his slumped position. Helen sighed and went back to her papers.
“My kids say I have a terrible sense of humor,” Gloria said, crossing the room with the tray. “I love bad and cheesy jokes, although I’m terrible at coming up with them. I’ll have to remember those.”
“if you think my jokes are good, you should hear some of tori’s,” Sans said, only turning his skull. “she’s got some really baaaaad puns.”
Helen stopped rearranging her papers for a moment as her brain tried to process how a skeleton could make a sound like a goat.
“I’ll have to ask her!” Gloria said, causing Helen to snap out of it and stare in her direction.
“Oh?” Helen asked, crossing her arms. “And when will that conversation be?”
Gloria stopped mid-stride, almost dropping the tray. She steadied herself and sucked in her bottom lip, glancing between Helen and the floor before responding.
“I mean…if I ever see her,” Gloria said in the meeker tone Helen knew so well. “Not that I probably will.” She fast walked the rest of the way to the door, setting down the tray and picking up the sign-in clipboard.
The skeleton slid back to a normal sitting position in the chair, pulling out the red bottle again. “i’ll let her know anyway,” he said. “i’m sure you two would have some pun together.”
Helen shook her head again as she checked to see if the corners on the papers were straight. He really couldn’t read the mood, could he?
Gloria didn’t respond, hiding her face behind the clipboard once again.
“Our last order of business for today is next month’s bake sale,” Helen said to the group.
She could hear them shifting around in their seats. The good news was that the bake sale more or less ran itself. It was just a question of who would be in charge of sign-ups, set-up, and tear-down. The bad news was that no one wanted to be in charge of these things.
Every other year, this had posed a problem for Helen. Last year, she’d grown tired of being responsible for everything, even if it was in the name of running the PTA someday. But this year everyone else’s desire to just bring in store-bought cupcakes and leave played right into Helen’s goals.
But she still had to ask.
“Would anyone like to volunteer to be the bake sale’s head coordinator?” she asked, clasping her hands together. Helen looked around the room with a smile, gazes dropping down as soon as she made the barest of eye contact.
Just as planned.
“Anyone?” she asked. “Anyone at all?”
At the back of the room, Gloria looked at her leftover lemon squares and started to hold up her hand—
“No one then,” Helen said. Gloria jumped and slapped her hand back onto the side of her clipboard.
First the jokes, and now this. Helen decided that she needed to keep a closer eye on her.
“Well,” Helen clapped her hands together. “Now that’s settled, I would like to remind everyone about our allergy policies before you sign up to bring something. Items with nuts need to be clearly labelled, as well as anything with milk and eggs. And finally!” She beamed at the audience. “I’d like this to be the first Overridge Academy bake sale where all the products are completely gluten free!”
The shuffling in the crowd grew. Most of Helen’s audience had their bags and purses in hand. No one was listening. It didn’t matter. She’d made the declaration, and if they didn’t follow the rules, then she would just throw out whatever they made. “I will have a sign-up sheet on the table here if you already know what you would like to bring,” Helen continued. “Otherwise… The meeting is adjourned!”
The group rose almost all at once, loud chatter breaking out amongst them about needing to pick up their children from various sports practices or tutoring programs. Gloria thanked those leaving for coming to the meeting, offering them the leftover lemon squares. A few people came up to write down their bake sale offerings, Helen watching over them with her wide stage smile.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the skeleton stand up and stretch his arms. Helen sighed internally. This week hadn’t been too bad. Maybe she was getting used to ignoring him after all, or he’d found some way to curb his snoring problem. Either way, she doubted that he wanted anything to do with the bake sale.
Helen blinked. The skeleton was in line to sign up.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was just a bake sale. She could throw it out if he didn’t follow the gluten rule. Helen exhaled, and when she opened her eyes again, Sans was signing the paper.
“What are you planning on bringing?” she asked.
“eh, not me,” Sans said, glancing up from the paper. “but tori will probably wanna make a pie or something. we also know somebody who’s pretty enthusiastic about bake sales, so you might end up with a bunch of doughnuts or—”
“No gluten,” Helen said, shaking her head. “That will be unacceptable.”
“uh, ok,” Sans said, turning back to the paper. “so i’ll just put down tori’s name, and i’ll have to get back to you on the doughnuts—”
“There will be no gluten at this bake sale,” Helen restated, her voice rising. “My son has a very serious allergy. He cannot be around any gluten products. Even standing near them is bound to make him ill.” She crossed her arms and glared at Sans. “Are you trying to put my son at risk?”
Sans looked back up at her, skull tilted to the side. “uh… you know that monsters don’t make food out of that stuff, right?” he said.
Helen’s eyes narrowed. This was probably just another joke.
“we, uh, didn’t have a lot of space to grow stuff in the underground, so we just used what was already there,” Sans said, waving a hand in the air. “there’s also some magic stuff since our bodies are different, but i never really paid attention to all that.”
“So what is it made out of?” Helen demanded.
“i could ask tori,” Sans said, putting his hands in his pockets. “i think the pie is pretty close to human food.”
“You think so, or you know so?” Helen asked.
Sans shrugged. “frisk eats it all the time,” he said.
“Well. Good for Frisk,” Helen said, her voice dropping back down. “The rest of us have to worry about the well-being of our children.” She pulled the sign-up sheet away from him. “I will not approve your request until I see an ingredient list.”
Sans whistled, sending Helen into another mental free fall about how he could do that without lips.
“i dunno,” he said, “good cooks don’t reveal their secrets. but i’ll ask anyway.”
“You mean good magicians,” Helen corrected, putting a hand on her hip. “Good magicians don’t reveal their secrets.”
“nah, i know what i said,” Sans winked. “if you try tori’s pie, you’ll call her a magician too.”
He turned away and headed for the door before Helen could tell him that wasn’t likely. “see ya, gloria,” he waved.
Gloria waved back. “Goodbye, Sans!” she said.
The door closed behind him, and the multipurpose room went quiet.
Helen sighed with relief. “I always feel better when he’s gone,” she said.
Gloria let out an awkward laugh as she turned towards the tray of lemon squares. “So… Landon can’t be near any food with gluten in it?” she asked, wrapping up the last few remaining treats with care.
“No,” Helen said, arranging her papers back into the folder. “Even just the smell makes him ill.”
Gloria paused, turning around towards Helen with a confused expression. “That…sounds like something different than a gluten allergy,” she said.
Helen sighed. “I think I understand my own son’s allergies, Gloria,” she said.
Gloria turned back around. “My youngest has a gluten allergy,” she said, her voice defensive. “I know how they work.”
“I do not need your input on my son’s medical condition, Gloria,” Helen said, shaking her bag until the folder fit inside. “I read everything that I needed to know about it off Google.”
Gloria whirled back around, mouth open. “Helen… You did take Landon to the doctor when he got sick, didn’t you?” she asked.
Helen snapped the clasp on her bag closed with more force than she’d intended. “I said that I do not need your input,” she repeated, slipping the bag over her shoulder. “I just need to keep it away from him, and he’ll be fine.”
Gloria opened her mouth and then closed it, pursing her lips. Helen raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you have something else you want to say?” she asked.
“No,” Gloria said. She frowned and looked to the side, her hands clasped in front of her. “I’m just reconsidering coming in early to help out next time.”
Helen headed for the door. “That’s up to you,” she said with a shrug. “I’m sure someone else would be happy to take your place.”
Gloria froze, her brow furrowing into a hurt expression. She clenched her fists, then turned in a tight circle towards the lemon square tray. Helen smiled at her back as she passed her.
“Good night, Gloria,” she said.
She didn’t get an answer in return.
Helen was late picking up Landon from harpischord practice. She pulled into the driveway of his tutor’s house as the fading sun burnt the sky a dull orange. Even in the half-light, Helen could see her son sulking on the front steps. His chin rested on his hands, wearing the same frown that Helen had caught on herself in the rearview mirror. It looked like Landon hadn’t had a good afternoon either.
She unlocked the doors and hit the horn twice out of habit even though Helen had seen Landon’s head turn when she’d pulled in. He stood up and shambled his way towards the car, holding onto the straps of his backpack with both hands, head down. Landon opened the backseat door and climbed into the van, slamming the door shut. Helen’s hands tensed on the steering wheel as she waited for the click of Landon’s seatbelt. She pulled out of the driveway a minute later in silence.
Helen glanced in the rearview mirror to see her son slumped over in his seat. “How was practice?” she asked.
“Sucked,” Landon said.
“Landon,” Helen said in her best fake-sweet reprimanding tone. “Use your positive words.”
Landon sighed. “I did not enjoy it, but I know that it is good for me and my future college application,” he said, repeating the inflection of the phrase that she’d taught him years ago.
“Much better,” Helen said, the van coming to a smooth stop at the end of the road as she flicked the turn signal on. “Is there any reason why you didn’t enjoy it today?”
Helen didn’t look back, but she heard Landon shift around in his seat. “Well… I was kind of in a bad mood after school,” he admitted.
She waited until she made the turn and merged with the lane’s traffic before responding. “Did something happen?” Helen asked.
“Well—” Landon started, stopped, sighed, and then started again. “Mr. Fisher had a party for us today since we all got honor roll,” he said. “And he—”
“You mean you all received honor roll,” Helen said. “Remember your grammar, Landon.”
“Because we all received honor roll,” Landon repeated. “But anyway, he brought in doughnuts—”
Helen hit the brakes, swerving to the side of the road. Several cars honked at her as the van came to a stop. She whirled around in her seat, reaching an arm out towards Landon who stared back wide-eyed with surprise.
“Did you eat any?” Helen demanded. “Do you feel sick?”
Landon shook his head.
“Use your words, honey,” Helen said as she gripped his shoulder, breathless. “No, you didn’t eat any, or no, you’re not feeling sick?”
“No, I didn’t eat any,” Landon said, a slight shake in his voice.
Helen exhaled and turned back towards the steering wheel. “Good,” she said, hitting the turn signal again and watching the traffic for an opening. “I’ll have a talk with Mr. Fisher tomorrow about your dietary restrictions.”
“No no no no, it’s not that,” Landon protested, a slight whine replacing the shake. “He asked the class what they wanted, and that’s what they voted on, and Mr Fisher knows I can’t, and he asked me, but I told him not to get me anything different because I didn’t want to be different than the rest of the class… But then everybody noticed that I wasn’t eating any and I got left out anyway.” Landon’s voice shuddered to a stop, and Helen heard him sniff.
Her hands had tightened on the steering wheel again as they pulled back into traffic. Helen wondered if that skeleton would have some sort of smart response for what Landon had just said. In fact, she was sure that he’d respond with disrespect and a failure to empathize, just like he had today when she’d asked for an ingredients list. If only that monster understood that this sort of thing wasn’t one of his jokes, it was affecting children like her poor, sweet—
“Mom?” Landon asked. “Are you mad?”
Helen shook herself out of her thoughts and put her focus back on the road. “Yes, sweetie,” she sighed, “but not at you.” For a moment, the only sound in the car came from the turn signal.
“Is there anything that I can do to make it easier?” Helen said to break the silence. “Your mother is the head of the school PTA, after all.”
The turn signal sounded louder with the second pause.
“No,” Landon said. “I just…kinda wish I had a doughnut anyway. So I could be part of the party.”
“You’re not wrong for not doing something that would have made you ill,” Helen said.
Landon sighed. “No it wou—” he started, but cut himself off.
Helen glanced in the rearview mirror. Landon’s hand was over his mouth.
“Honey? Are you okay?” she asked. Maybe the close proximity to gluten earlier in the day was still affecting him. “Do you need me to pull over? Try not to throw up on the seats again—”
“No, I’m fine, I’m fine, really, it’s not that,” Landon said in a rush. “It…was nothing. Honestly.”
Helen looked at her son through the rearview mirror. He was staring out the window with a somber expression. She looked back at the road, her jaw set.
At the very least, she’d make sure that the bake sale would be a safe place for her son.