Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The truth was that Helen didn’t know what to do with them. 

She’d been concerned when those hellbeasts had started streaming out of the mountain. But she’d handled it like any rational person would, by locking the doors and windows, shutting the blinds, and keeping Landon home from school until events settled down. Her son had complained, but there wasn’t much to lose keeping him home for a few days. Helen would know, since she was the head of the PTA.

She’d worked long and hard to get the position, and now it was her everything. All the volunteering hours handing out snacks at charity runs, organizing the guest lists at the biannual picnic, and making sure that the bake sale was utterly gluten-free so as not to jeopardize her poor sweet Landon had paid off. She was the one who called the shots on after-school policy now. Even with the existence of hellbeasts, Helen was sure that nothing would change in her private garden of weekly meetings. 

At first, she wasn’t wrong.

The school remained the same for the first few weeks. But the rest of the world seemed to accept the devil incarnations overnight, almost like…magic. Helen hated that word, and had to hold her cross necklace and say a prayer every time she thought of it, lest she be damned. But acceptance wasn’t the part that she had a problem with. Oh no. It was acceptance at her school that she had a problem tolerating.

After a few months had passed, the malformed demons were actually permitted through the gates! Despite her stern words to the principal and vice principal about how her husband and his donation money would not be happy to hear this when he called to check in on things from his third business trip this year to the Bahamas, they went ahead and let the monsters in anyway, citing some anti-discrimination law.

Helen hated laws that she didn’t make.

When her husband did call, he suggested putting Landon in a different school. And give up her position after she’d worked so hard? Hah!

But there were still things that she could do. She warned Landon against talking with any of them, and moved him out of classes where he had one as a classmate or, heaven forbid, his teacher—just what were the district hiring practices these days?—to ensure that her perfect boy would not be corrupted. And through the PTA, well. She made sure that they got the message loud and clear.

A lot of them showed up at first, but they were not offered handouts of the schedule agenda nor lemon squares from the snack table. When issues regarding school policy were brought to a vote, Helen jumped over them as if they were not there. At one meeting, she enlisted the help of some of the low attendance parents in helping her set up “special seating” for the monster families, putting the worst of the folding chairs towards the back of the room with a sign reading “Monsters Welcome!”

Most of them stopped coming after that. A few stuck it out a bit longer, but lack of numbers meant that their defenses fell faster. The last was a strange armless creature that looked like a dinosaur. Gloria had been the one to drive her out; when the monster had asked about volunteer signups for the silent auction fundraiser, Gloria pointed out that all of the jobs required functioning arms. The abomination had left in tears, and Helen gave Gloria a well-deserved nod of the head when she turned her expectant face in her direction. 

Gloria made for a wonderful second-in-command. She was eager to please and had a barbed tongue that could even rival Helen’s when she put her mind to it. Gloria was also tipsy more often than not and had little ambition in school politics outside of maintaining her current ranking. However, all that meant to Helen was that she didn’t need to fear an uprising from her. They could focus on the attacks from the outside and keep the school they way it was meant to be.

But the next day the principal contacted her.

He said that they were receiving complaints. The PTA was no longer representative of the diverse school community, and that needed to change. Unless Helen wanted to lose her position, the principal warned, she needed to make fast changes. 

So now she was here, trying to make amends by personally inviting every hellbeast parent to the next PTA meeting. For nearly every call, she was hung up on. Helen sipped her mimosa in her armchair with a smile. This was one of the few times she didn’t mind being ignored. If they didn’t come, then the principal couldn’t claim that she didn’t try, and by that logic her hold on the PTA was safe. She just had to get through a few more phone calls.

Helen peered at the next number in the book. The name next to it read: “Frisk Dreemur.” Her eyes narrowed. That sounded vaguely familiar, but Helen couldn’t place it. She shrugged and took another sip of her drink as the number dialed.

The phone only rang twice before someone picked up.

“Greetings. May I ask who is calling?”

Helen perked up at the sound of the voice on the other side of the phone. This one sounded like her favorite kind of parent, malleable and open to suggestions. Not a threat, but an important pack mule to offload the more tedious tasks onto, all in the name of helping their children and their school.

“Yes, hello!” Helen put down the mimosa and smiled even though the hellbeast couldn’t see her. “I’m calling to inform you that there is a PTA meeting this upcoming Tuesday, and we are currently looking to expand our reach to new parents at Overridge Elementary. Will you be joining us?”

“Oh my!” She seemed genuinely surprised. Perfect. “I would love to attend, but I am one of the new teachers at the school, and attending to the students and my child have put quite the strain on my schedule—”

Helen’s lip curled. That must have been where she’d heard the name. She was one of those monster quota hires to make the school more ‘diverse’ and little else. Helen tried to keep the disdain out of her voice. “I thought that the contact name sounded familiar!” she crooned, picking up the mimosa again. “No need to concern yourself, Mrs. Dreemur, the students’ education comes first—”

“Please do not call me that.”

Helen almost dropped her glass. Even through the telephone, that cold wall behind the warm tone made Helen feel like she’d made the wrong judgement on this monster’s behavior. “I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered out before she could recover, and then felt like she was going to be ill. Helen never said that to anyone, let alone monsters.

There was a slight gasp on the other side of the line. “Oh no, please do not apologize! You could not have known,” the monster said, sounding sorry herself. 

“No, it was my mistake,” Helen said, her manners getting the better of her as she composed herself. “And I am genuinely sorry to hear that you cannot attend.” Holding the phone in place with her shoulder, Helen picked up her red pen and struck a line through Frisk Dreemur’s contact information.

“Would it be acceptable if another member of the household attended in my place?” the monster asked.

Helen froze, the hand holding the pen stopping in midair. Her first instinct was to tell the hellbeast that PARENTS were preferred at these meetings—it was in the name—but the chill she’d felt earlier was still settling around Helen’s spine. This wasn’t a monster that would be put off so easily. At the same time, looking at the long list of names with red lines made the principal’s words echo in her head. Maybe her rejection plan wasn’t so foolproof after all. If no one came—

Wouldn’t they just replace her?

Helen shivered. That scared her the most of all.

“That would be lovely,” Helen replied. “Anyone who wants to participate in the child’s education is welcome.”

“How splendid!” the voice on the other end said. “I have just the right person in mind—”

Helen’s lower lip twitched. That was one of the things she liked the least about the monsters. They kept referring to themselves as “people.”

“The meeting will be next Tuesday at four,” Helen said, maintaining her friendly tone. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for him or her!”

It took several rounds of “thank you”s before Helen could hang up the phone. She sighed, tilting her head back into her chair as another thought occurred to her. If Dreemur wasn’t the hellbeast’s name, then where had she heard it before?

Helen held her phone above her, opening up the web browser and typing the name into Google just for kicks. She’d gotten some interesting dirt on some of the other parents this way. People in her district had no concept of how things appeared on the Internet. 

Helen dropped the phone on her face when the results came up. She sat up, her hands scrambling to catch it before it fell into her lap. She looked at the picture on the touchscreen again. A plain child with a neutral expression stared back at her through the photo. The caption read: “Human Ambassador for Monsterkind.” Helen blinked. They was nothing about the child that was memorable—and yet, somehow Helen remembered passing them a few times through the school entrance. 

She covered her mouth with her hand in thought. Helen followed the news. She knew how important the ambassador was. But she cared about PTA affairs far more, and somehow she hadn’t noticed that the child attended her school. No wonder the school was pushing so hard to be “inclusive.” 

Helen looked back down at the picture and smiled. Maybe, just maybe, this would work out in her favor after all. It hinged on a few things, but this might be the key to getting the monsters away from her PTA once and for all.

She tossed the list of numbers across the room and picked up the mimosa again. Next Tuesday would be very interesting.

Chapter Text

Helen sat at the table, drinking in the sounds of the multipurpose room before the PTA meeting began. The low chatter of the people in front of her. The soft rustle of napkins as the final crumbs of the lemon squares were brushed away. The legs of the folding chairs squeaking across the floor when someone shifted their weight to move a little closer towards their neighbor, whispering the latest gossip. 

There were many things that Helen enjoyed about PTA meetings, but the moment before they started had to be her favorite. It reminded her of when she was in theater in high school, just before the lights shone down on the stage. Helen lived for that moment of anticipation before all eyes turned on her. 

The only thing ruining her moment of perfection was the buzzing overhead from one of the faulty florescent lights in the back of the room. It flickered on and off, the bulb unable to decide if it wanted to blow out or not. Even though it was nowhere near the folding chairs, Helen could still see it and it bothered her. She disliked anything short of perfection. She’d have to call someone to take care of it once the meeting was over.

Helen turned her eyes towards the back of the room. Gloria stood next to the doorway, holding a clipboard in her hand. She was in charge of sign-ins, and made sure that everyone important was present before the meeting began. Helen could see Gloria counting the heads in the room under her breath before throwing Helen a thumbs up. That was her cue.

She stood up and looked around, beaming. The whispering stopped, and expectant faces turned towards Helen, waiting. Not a single monster face looked back at her. Helen hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that until this exact moment. She took a deep breath. She wouldn’t have to use her plan after all. It was a little bit of a shame, yet this was for the best.

“Hello everyone!” Helen began. “It appears that everyone has made it, so let’s get this ball rolling!” She made a motion with her hands that resembled a spinning ball and got a few placating smiles in response. Those parents didn’t know it yet, but they’d just made the shortlist for the school dance committee. 

“So!” Helen clapped her hands together. “If you would please take a look at tonight’s agenda—”

A scream interrupted the shuffling of papers. A high pitched echo reverberated off the walls in its wake. The group turned around in unison at the source. Gloria was holding her clipboard over her face like a shield, knees knocking together. Helen gasped before she could clamp a hand over her mouth. 

A literal skeleton stood in the doorway.

Helen caught sight of the wide unmoving smile and the large dark eye sockets first. That skull was far too wide to be a human skull—although of course it wasn’t a human skull, Helen told herself a second later. This was a monster they were dealing with. There was no other explanation as to why a creature from the background of a demonic Hollywood film would be standing in Overridge Academy’s multipurpose room on a Tuesday evening. Helen clutched at the cross around her neck, reviewing the plan inside her head. She had to calm herself and pick the right moment. If things kept going this way, then it was possible that the monster might even play right into her hands.

It turned, and then Helen realized what it was wearing. Her lip curled. A hoodie? In April? She didn’t care if the thing didn’t have skin, there was still a such thing as dressing for the weather. And were those…slippers? Did this monster not care at all?

The skeleton held up their bony hands up towards Gloria in an apologetic way. "sorry, didn’t mean to rattle your bones," the monster said. 

The skull turned towards the rest of the group. Helen took a step back when she saw that there were bright round lights like pupils looking out of its eye sockets. She wasn’t sure if being able to tell where its eyes were made her feel better or worse. 

"is this the, uh, pta thing?" the skeleton asked, the glowing pupils glancing around the room. 

It took a few glances in her direction before Helen realized that she needed to respond. “Yes! Yes, this is the PTA meeting,” she said, trying to regain her composure. She couldn’t show weakness in front of the enemy. Helen flashed her best stage smile. “May I ask your name and the name of the student you are here to represent?”

"i’m sans. sans the skeleton," the monster said. He put his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie. "i, uh, wouldn’t go so far as to say i represent them, but I’m one of frisk dreemur’s guardians." The skeleton winked, sending another wave of panic through Helen—he doesn’t have eyelids he doesn’t have eyelids how can he do that without eyelids—as a few scattered mutters went through the seated group. "you might’ve heard of ‘em," he continued. "my bro says that frisk is getting pretty famous."

“How…lovely for you,” Helen managed to say, not knowing how to respond. “I am glad that you were able to make it to the meeting, Mr. Sans. You’re welcome to take a seat anywhere you like—”

"oh, you don’t have to call me mr. or anything. i’m just a skeleton," Sans said, shrugging.

Helen froze in the middle of her motion to point towards the empty chairs in the back. …Was that a joke? 

“Sans, then,” Helen said once she’d regained her presence of mind. “You are welcome to sit anywhere you would like. The meeting will begin very shortly.” 

He nodded. "if it’s as short as i am, i guess we won’t be here very long," the skeleton said. 

There were a few scattered giggles in the room, and it took all of Helen’s self control to not drop her smile. What was this monster thinking, cracking jokes at her meeting? 

Then Helen heard a snort of laughter from the back of the room. Gloria had emerged from behind her clipboard, giggling as the skeleton walked towards the chairs. Helen threw a death glare in her direction—Wasn’t she the one who’d screamed a minute ago? Why was she laughing at his bad jokes now? Gloria’s smile dropped when she caught Helen’s eye, and she went back to hiding behind the list.

Helen cleared her throat and the noise died down. Thankfully, the skeleton had taken the chair closest to the door. She didn’t have to worry about him right now. She just had to get through the agenda and decide if this meeting was the right time to put her plan into action. 

“Now, once again, if you would please look at your agendas—”

A loud snore reverberated from the back row. Once again, heads turned to stare at the source. The skeleton was slumped over in his chair, chin resting on his bony hand, and large letter ‘Z’s appearing out of nowhere above his head, floating upwards a bit, and then vanishing as if they’d never existed.

Helen could feel a vein starting to stand out on her neck. What kind of devil magic made this possible?

He can’t snore he doesn’t have lungs he’s literally bones that’s not possible and what are those letters is this a cartoon have I lost control of my sanity am I losing control of my mind—

Gloria—her lips sucked in and shoulders shaking in a bad attempt to cover up her laugher—walked up behind the skeleton and tapped him on the shoulder with her clipboard. He jumped, the rest of the ‘Z’s disappearing. Gloria whispered something to him, and he said something back. She laughed again. 

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Helen shook her papers in front of her to straighten them. “As I was saying,” she started for the third time, “Please refer to the first item on the agenda involving advertisements for the school’s annual 5K race for charity—”

And off the meeting went. The volunteer list for the race was finalized, the fundraising calendar was updated so that the book fair and the spring parent/student dance would not clash, and the date to discuss the cafeteria’s menu for next semester was set. Helen highlighted the last one on her own copy of the meeting notes—this was the year that she would ban gluten and ensure that Landon could eat whatever his heart desired with getting ill all over the floor of her new car like the last time he’d ingested that poison. 

The skeleton didn’t participate. Whenever Helen glanced towards the back row, either the floating ‘Z’s had returned, or he was drinking something from a red bottle. She decided not to dwell on whether or not skeletons could drink. Part of her wondered if it was alcohol and that was why he was so drowsy. Who could say what kind of effect drinking had on monsters?

Not that Helen really cared. But it was a perfect connection into her plan.

The group grew antsy as they reached the bottom of the agenda. Helen could see people shifting in their seats, examining handbags and phones before glancing at the clock or the door. The ‘Z’s over the skeleton’s head had vanished, but his eye sockets were closed—how did he do that without eyelids—and Helen knew that it was now or never.

“Just one more thing everyone, one more thing,” she said. Helen heard a few sighs, but this time she did not bother looking to see who did not want to participate in her meeting. Their desire to leave would make this easier. “I realize that it is not on the agenda for tonight, but I have something that we need to bring to a vote,” she continued.

Helen dropped her papers onto her chair and clasped her hands in front of her. “Overridge Academy has gone through some big changes this year with the inclusion of our new neighbors,” she said, nodding her head towards the skeleton, who didn’t move. “And while I am sure that their integration into society will be swift, as the PTA we need to be sure that these changes will not have a detrimental impact on our students,” she continued, looking around the room at the blank faces staring back at her. 

“Previously, monsterkind has demonstrated that they do not understand how things work here at Overridge Academy. They also do not demonstrate a desire to engage with the school through our PTA system,” Helen said. She started to pace in front of the table, trying to make eye contact with every person except for the skeleton.  “Tonight, our only monster representative seems far more content with sleeping and drinking his…beverage than with engaging in our meeting.” Helen stopped in the center of the group for dramatic impact. “If this is the kind of guardian that the monsters have chosen as a caretaker for their representative, I’m not sure what that means for the rest of them,” she said.

The skeleton’s eye sockets opened a little. There was nothing but darkness underneath. Disturbed, Helen turned the other way. She didn’t need to pay attention to him anymore. He’d already served his purpose as her example.

“Which is one of the reasons why I would like to bring the following to a vote,” Helen continued. “All in favor of the removal of mixed monster and human classes, please raise your hand.”

The flickering light buzzed in the silence. Helen felt a chill pass over her. 

“Anyone?” she asked. She was met with blank stares. Helen laughed a little. “This is our children’s future we are discussing he—” 

She gulped the words back down as she turned her head to the other side of the room. For a split second, Helen was sure that she saw one of the skeleton’s eyes glowing blue and yellow. But then she blinked, and they were back to the glowing pupils from before.

“Um…” Gloria’s voice came from the back of the room. She jumped a little as the eyes of the room shifted towards her. Helen sighed, glad that the pressure was off her for a moment. Gloria drummed her fingers on the sides of her clipboard and sucked in her bottom lip before speaking. 

“I see the point that Helen is trying to make,” she started in a slow, diplomatic way, “but even if we do take a vote on it, that won’t change anything about how the school sets up its classes.”

Helen tilted her head to one side. “Gloria, this is the PTA,” she scoffed. “We are here for the benefit of our children. If we speak up about how we feel about the quality of education in this school, something is bound to change.”

“But we can’t just…kick the monsters out,” Gloria said, curling her fingers near her mouth as if they were picking out her words. “That’s up to the school board. You know this, Helen, we do menus and fundraisers—”

“I just want to know where we all stand on the subject so that I can report any concerns to the principal,” Helen said. Her shirt was starting to stick to her underarms. This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. “And if the monsters don’t want to participate, then I don’t see why we should share.”

"wow, tough crowd." 

The vein popped out on Helen’s neck again. Her smile finally slipped as she locked eyes with the skeleton. “Oh, now you have something to say?” Helen responded. Her tone was harsher than she’d intended, yet it was closer to how she really felt.

The skeleton shrugged. "like i said earlier, i don’t really think of myself as a representative of anything," he said."i’m not really a, um, voluntary participation kind of guy. i’m just here because somebody asked for a favor." His glowing pupils felt like they had pinned Helen to the spot. "so, uh, don’t try to compare all monsters to a lazybones like me. they deserve a lot better than that."

Helen swallowed. Her plan was backfiring. She thought that she would be able to grab the group’s support easily. She was their leader after all. Why were they tolerating this? Why were they just staring at her?

"sure, there are things that we, uh, don’t quite get yet," the skeleton continued. He reached up with a bony hand to rub the back of the skull. "i mean, most of us did grow up beneath a mountain, so we were literally living under a rock."

A majority of the room laughed at that. Helen couldn’t believe this. Did they really think that he was funny?

"i mean, isn’t this kind of thing what caused us to get trapped under the mountain in the first place?" he said. "being afraid of each other and dividing each other up?"

The laughter died down.

"i dunno how it is for humans, but monsters tend to avoid places where they’re not welcome," the skeleton said, standing up. "and since i’m the only monster who showed up, that’s says more about this place than it does about monsterkind."

Some people shifted in their seats. Gloria stared at her feet. Helen crossed her arms. Was he done yet?

The skeleton shrugged again. "i’ve talked enough. do whatever makes you happy. monsters’ll figure it out one way or another," he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking towards the door.

Helen felt rage flow through her like a wave. “Excuse me!” she half-shouted, stomping her foot on the ground. “I have not ended this meeting yet!”

She was breathing hard. Her spotlight had been stolen from her and her plan stopped before it even started. She was not going to let this monster break her meeting rules on top of everything else.

He paused mid-stride and looked over his shoulder at her. Was it her imagination, or had his smile grown wider?

"heh. you sure can pull a funny face, human," he said.

“I am not ‘human,’” she said. “I’m Helen.”

The skeleton waved at her. "hi, helen. i’m sans," he said.

Helen gritted her jaw. “I heard you earlier,” she said.

"so, uh, when’s the meeting going to be over, helen?" he asked. The way he said her name made it feel like something was crawling on her back. 

Helen sighed. “Meeting adjourned,” she said. 

A second later the room was filled with grateful sighs, the rustling of purses and bags, and quiet murmuring as the group left the room. Helen massaged her eyeballs with the heels of her hands. This was one of the worst meetings she’d ever run. Now all she wanted to do was leave.

A light hand patted her shoulder. “All you did was step over the rules a little bit,” said Gloria’s voice. “I’m sorry, Helen, I know you care. I really do.”

Helen pulled away from her, glancing up at the doorway. The skeleton was gone. “Do you think he’ll be back?” she asked. 

It was a rhetorical question—Helen didn’t want to know the answer. Gloria made an uncertain noise behind her. Helen sighed, collecting the papers from her chair. It didn’t matter right now. She had to go get Landon from harpsichord practice.

But she was willing to bet that the skeleton wouldn’t show up again.

A week later, Helen turned on the lights in the multipurpose room to set up the chairs for the meeting and screamed. The skeleton was leaning against the opposite wall, his glowing eyes burning a hole through her.

"hey helen," he waved. "hope you don’t mind me coming early this time. didn’t want to miss anything."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then noticed a red and white striped bag in the skeleton’s other hand. He held it out to her. "want some?" he asked.

He’d brought popcorn.

Helen had the feeling that this would be a very long school year. 

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.

Chapter Text

“Do I really have to go?” Landon whined.

Helen slammed the car door closed, waiting for the beep of the lock to sound before turning to her son. “We are already here, Landon,” she said, putting the keys back in her purse. She looked down at him to see Landon pouting at the parking lot blacktop, his arms crossed. Helen frowned. “And that is not a very positive attitude to take,” she continued. “Try again.”

Landon’s eyes looked up at her and then back towards the ground. “It’s just…” he started, pausing for a sigh. “We stay here the whole time. It’s boring. Why can’t I go home after you’re done talking to Mr. Fisher?”

“That’s what happens when the PTA runs an event,” Helen said. “We stay until it’s over.”

Landon made a discontented noise in his throat.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Helen said. “I’m the head of the group. I have to stay.”

She held out her hand to him and he took it. Landon started swinging their linked palms out of habit as they walked towards the school entrance. “But it’s just parent-teacher conferences,” he said, the whine coming back. “I don’t wanna watch a movie with a bunch of babies.”

“It’s ‘want to,’ Landon, not ‘wanna,’” Helen corrected. She squeezed his hand. “And it won’t be that bad,” she continued. “Gloria’s son Jacob will be there too.”

Landon sighed, but didn’t say anything else.

The pair walked under the giant WELCOME PARENTS sign taped above the doors to the school. The chairs propping the doors open had balloons tied to them—those had been Helen’s idea. Why not make parent-teacher conferences a bit more fun?
Inside the entranceway, the soft chatter of parents and teachers echoed off the walls. All the classroom doors stood open, a clipboard with a sign-in sheet hanging from the doorknob of each one. Helen looked around, spotting Mr. Fisher’s door and pulling Landon towards it. “We’ll sign in and then get you settled at the movie,” she said, her heels clicking on the hallway floor.

Landon stopped, his hand slipping out of Helen’s. She stopped in front of the door, frowning at Landon over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You don’t want to talk to Mr. Fisher?”

“I think I’ll just…go to the movie,” Landon said, not meeting her eyes. “Seeya later, mom.”

She opened her mouth to correct him—it was ‘see you’—but Landon had already begun running down the hallway towards the multipurpose room. Helen looked around to make sure no one noticed that it was her son breaking the rules on conference night, and let out a sigh of relief when no heads turned as Landon rushed past them.

She did wonder for a moment why he’d changed his mind, but Helen assumed that a movie must sound better to a child than listening to their parent talk to their teacher.

Helen picked up the clipboard and signed her name. Only three other signatures were ahead of hers on the sheet, but no one was waiting in the short row of chairs outside the door. Helen could hear some soft voices coming from inside the classroom, sentences punctuated by Mr. Fisher’s rolling laugh. Helen didn’t bother peeking in. It wouldn’t be a long wait.

She took the seat right next to the classroom door, folding her hands in her lap and tilting her legs to the side so that her skirt wouldn’t roll up. A few parents and students passed by her, nodding as Helen flashed them her PTA smile. For a minute, it felt like Overridge Academy had gone back to its old self—there wasn’t a single monster in sight. Only normal humans and their normal children wherever she looked along the hallway.

Until her eyes landed on the classroom right across from Mr. Fisher’s.

Helen had to admit that she appreciated the way that the skeleton had tempered her response to monsters. The initial reaction was all internal, which gave her a few seconds to prevent it from bubbling up to the surface. Those few seconds were crucial, because only three months ago Helen would’ve screamed loud enough to shatter the windows if she’d seen a giant goat monster in one of the classrooms at Overridge Academy.

The monster was standing in the doorway, smiling at someone inside and out of view. Their expression seemed soft enough, but Helen’s eyes immediately went to the fangs. Fangs! And horns as well! How many more nightmare scenarios would she be forced to confront while the rest of the world lost its mind? But Helen swallowed the scream as the monster walked out of the classroom and into the hallway. She looked away, hoping that they were just on their way out. Maybe if she pretended not to notice them—

“Thank you so much for taking time to talk to me about next year!” a familiar voice said.

Helen turned her head back so fast that her earrings slapped her cheek. It couldn’t be—

It was. Gloria stood in the classroom doorway on the other side of the hallway, shaking the monster’s hand. The two smiled at each other.

“Feel free to call me anytime,” the monster said, and Helen had another epiphany. She’d heard that voice before on the phone, months ago.

Why in the world was Gloria talking to the monster teacher?

A high-pitched squeal of happiness rang out from inside the classroom, and a second later Gloria’s younger child ran out into the hallway, barefoot and giggling. The three-year-old’s pink dress flared around her knees as she skidded to a stop on the smooth floor. Gloria grabbed her child around the waist and lifted her up, the little girl squealing once again. Helen couldn’t help but cringe a little at the noise. At least Landon had been quiet at that age. The girl quieted down when Gloria leaned her against her hip.

“It was nice meeting you too, Julia,” the monster teacher said to the child. Julia gave them a gap-toothed smile in return. Helen fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Jacob, Gloria’s older son, walked out of the classroom a minute later, hands in his pockets. He was a year younger than Landon, and Helen had never heard him string more than three words together.

The monster teacher turned to him next. “It was good to meet you as well, Jacob,” she said, still smiling. “Even if you are not in my class next year, I have the feeling that you are a bright young man who will do well.” Jacob stared back for a moment, wide-eyed, then smiled and nodded.

Helen could hear a ringing in her ears. There was no way that she’d heard that right. Someone in such a high position in the PTA couldn’t be considering putting her child in a class taught by a monster. What was Gloria doing?

Julia turned her head, pointing at Helen. “Hi scary lady!” she shouted.

Gloria jumped, grabbing her daughter’s hand. “Julia, it’s rude to point,” she said. She glanced between the monster and Helen for a second before smiling and waving towards Helen.

Helen knew that smile. It was the same one she used on new parents.

Why was Gloria treating her like a stranger?

The monster turned that soft smile in Helen’s direction. “A friend of yours?” they asked.

“Ah, yes,” Gloria said, bouncing Julia on her hip. “This is—”

Helen stood up and crossed the hallway, holding out her hand before Gloria could finish her sentence. “Helen Hall,” she said, taking the monster’s furry hand. “I’m the head of the PTA here. I believe we spoke on the phone once earlier this year?”

“Oh, yes!” the monster said, her giant paw hands squeezing Helen’s back in a far gentler way than she’d expected. “Thank you so much for welcoming Sans into your group,” the monster continued. “He has told me that your meetings are very entertaining.”

Helen fought to keep her smile natural as the florescent lights in the hallway reflected off the monster’s fangs. “Glad to hear that he thinks so,” she said, dropping the monster’s grip as soon as it was socially acceptable. Helen turned her frozen smile towards Gloria. “You’re taking the next coverage shift at the movie, right?” she asked.

Gloria adjusted Julia’s position on her hip. “I’m taking the kids over there right now,” she said, checking her watch. “Why?” She looked up at Helen with a calm smile. “Do you need to talk to me about something?” she asked.

Helen didn’t know how to react to that either. Only a few days ago she’d warned Gloria about losing her place in the PTA, yet now Gloria was acting like nothing was wrong. Helen was used to Gloria immediately asking what she’d done to upset her when she asked a loaded question like that. But this Gloria wasn’t concerned at all.

She just smiled back at Helen like talking to giant goats was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes,” Helen said, her tone sounding a bit more irritated than she’d intended to reveal. “But later.”

She turned a stage smile towards the monster teacher. “It was nice meeting you in person, Ms. Toriel,” Helen said. “I’m sure we will have a chance to chat more in the future.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” the monster said.

“Mrs. Hall?” a voice called out behind them. Helen turned around to see Mr. Fisher in the doorway, holding the clipboard. His face lit up when he saw her. “There you are! Finally meeting the new faculty, I see!” he said.

Helen nodded at him in answer. She looked back at Gloria. “I’ll head over there after my meeting,” she said. “I’ll look for you.”

She walked back across the hallway, not looking at the monster teacher again. Helen saw Mr. Fisher raise his eyebrows as she passed by him into the classroom, but didn’t think much of it. If she had her way, then she wouldn’t need to talk to that monster ever again.

“Well,” Mr. Fisher said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s just get started then!” He headed around Helen to his desk, weaving through a maze of small desk to get there.

Helen took a moment to pause at Landon’s seat. Every desk was emblazoned with the name of the student it belonged to. It was a nice personal touch that Helen had liked when she’d scouted out Mr. Fisher’s class the previous year. Most of the other classes no longer had that little tradition, citing the age of the students and that they needed to prepare for upper grades where they wouldn’t have a desk to themselves. Helen disagreed. Her son would be able to deal with that once it came. Until then, she liked the small reminders that he was still a child.

Mr. Fisher took his seat and gestured to the chair in front of his desk with a smile. “I’m happy to report that Landon is doing excellently,” he said before Helen could even sit down. “I know that I expressed some concerns about his math retention rates, but his last few major tests have shown a turnaround,” he said, folding his hands on top of the desk and beaming at Helen. “He must have really applied himself at home!”

Helen remembered the late nights she’d spent with her son at the kitchen table, drilling him with flash cards, both of them yawning. “Yes, he has,” she said, smiling back.

“However, now I’m a little more concerned about the social aspect,” Mr. Fisher said, his smile dropping into a serious line. “I’m sure that he told you about our little doughnut party.”

“I appreciate that you offered him a substitute,” Helen said, pushing down the urge to rant at him for putting her son in danger.

Mr. Fisher’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “And honestly, Mrs. Hall, I wish that he took it,” he said. “His classmates aren’t sure what to make of him anymore.”

Helen leaned forward in her chair. “Is he being bullied?” she asked, her hands clenching her purse.

“No, nothing like that,” Mr. Fisher said, shaking his head. “It’s more like… Landon has started self-isolating. His classmates still try to include him, but he talks much less than at the beginning of the year. He’s also started outright shunning one of them.”

“That…does not sound like him,” Helen said, leaning back in her seat. “Which student is he ignoring?”

“Our new monster transfer,” Mr. Fisher said. “I’m sure Landon has mentioned them as well—the class was very excited when they first joined us.”

Helen could hear a ringing in her ears again.

“They’ve also really pitched in to make them feel welcome even though they’re surrounded by humans,” Mr. Fisher continued. “We do a lot of joint classes with Ms. Toriel across the hall as well, but it’s still a little rough on them to be in a class with a completely different species. The kids got that pretty quickly though.”

He gestured with his hands as he spoke. Helen’s eyes followed the movement. She felt like she was watching him from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

“They all get along well.” Mr. Fisher sighed. “Except for Landon. He refuses to even talk to them. And the other kids have come to me with concerns that he might even hate the new classmate.”

Helen sat up straighter.

“Of course, I’m sure that’s not true,” Mr. Fisher continued, shaking his head and his hands. “I heard recently that your inclusion efforts have a monster on the PTA now, Mrs. Hall. Perhaps Landon is just a little scared due to a lack of exposure to monsters. If you don’t mind the suggestion, perhaps you could take him to a meeting? Or at least have a talk with him?”

Helen readjusted her smile. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll be sure to have a long talk with Landon about this.”

Mr. Fisher smiled. “Glad to hear it,” he said. “I know it’s been a rough change for all of us, but I’m glad that Overridge Academy at least can take it in stride. This is the world we live in now. Might as well get along with the new neighbors!”

He laughed. Helen didn’t join in.

She left the meeting a few minutes later with a detailed printout sheet of Landon’s grades. Helen folded it into a tiny square, putting it in her pocket as her heels clicked down the hallway. Despite buzz in the hallway from the people surrounding her, she felt like she’d become deaf to all other sound than her own shoes. Helen took a sharp turn at the corner, almost walking straight into another student. The parent’s faces didn’t even register to her as she recited her standard apology and went on her way.

At least they were undeniably human.

A moment later the door to the multipurpose room came into view, a colorful sign outside reading MOVIE NIGHT in block letters. ‘Let the family enjoy a movie while you talk to your child’s teachers!’ stated Gloria’s neat handwriting just underneath. ‘Brought to you by Overridge Academy PTA.’

Helen couldn’t bring herself to look at Gloria’s handiwork for long. How dare she talk to monsters. How dare Mr. Fisher let them into his classroom. Didn’t they realize that Overridge Academy was fine without interlopers? Why in the world had they accepted them?

She reached the double doors past the sign, one side propped open. The balloons that Helen had tied to the handle before picking up Landon from practice were deflating. They hovered at about waist-height, matching Helen’s mood.

The room beyond was dark and quiet except for the flickering of the movie on the projector screen and the distant echo of its audio. Helen took a deep breath and walked in.

Hopefully Gloria hadn’t lied about her shift the same way she’d lied about her loyalty.

Helen let her eyes adjust to the dark before looking around. A group of twenty or so children sat on the floor in front of the projector screen, gathered into friend sets of two to five on the large quilt that Gloria had set down earlier that afternoon. Some were chattering and giggling amongst themselves, not paying attention to the movie at all. Helen noticed that some of the louder ones were monster children—apparently they’d never learned how to behave during a movie from wherever they came from.

Helen caught sight of Landon towards the back of the quilt, alone. His eyes had a glazed look to them, and Helen could tell that he was transfixed by the movie. A group of monster children in front of them burst out laughing over something on their phones, and Helen felt a surge of pride when he turned and shushed them.

Yes, she would have a talk with him. Later.

Gloria was leaning against the back wall, saying something to her toddler as the child swung on her arm. As Helen came closer, the child yelled and ran away, hiding behind a stack of unused chairs. She peeked out from behind them, giggling, but Helen didn’t look back at her. Gloria needed to learn how to control her children.

“So,” Helen said, crossing her arms. “You’re considering putting Jacob in the monster class next year?”

Gloria pursed her lips, shaking her head. “Can’t you at least try to be a little less hostile, Helen?” she asked.

Helen’s eyes narrowed. “Did you forget what I told you just the other day?” she asked Gloria.

“No,” Gloria answered, meeting Helen’s glare. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

The two of them stared at each other, Gloria’s frown illuminated by a flash of light from the screen.

“You need to see this from my perspective,” Helen said, putting a hand to her chest. “I thought that you understood why blindly accepting the monsters was a bad idea. They’ll change everything.“

Gloria shook her head again, but Helen continued. “The class sizes will go up,” she said, holding up fingers as she counted. “Monster faculty won’t be able to understand a human student’s wants or needs. How could they? We’re different species, Gloria.” She held up a third finger. “And accidents will increase. Didn’t you see the paper this morning? About a school just one town over? That child was absorbed, Gloria, he could have died.“

Gloria looked back at Helen, the laughter from the monster kids echoing off the walls. “Exactly,” she said. “That was an accident, Helen. Not intentional.” She raised her hand towards the group behind Helen. “They’re kids, with families like ours. They’re not the big problem that you’re making them out to be.”
Helen nodded, crossing her arms once again. “I see,” she said. “This is exactly what I was afraid of.”

Gloria raised an eyebrow at her.

“They’ve blinded you,” Helen said. “They’ve used their magic or whatever it is that’s causing society to believe that this is a good thing. Gloria, just because you like that skeleton’s jokes—”

Gloria held up a hand. “Stop, Helen,” she said. “Just stop. You’re going to embarrass yourself if you keep this up.”

“Oh? Is that actually the reason?” Helen asked, sarcasm dripping into her words. “Gloria, you could’ve just said that you’re doing this to keep up social appearances. But to put your son in a position like that—what will it do to his education?”

“I believed what you said because I was worried about my family,” Gloria said, her voice starting to shake. “But when I actually started talking to them, I realized that I was just taking your word for it. And I started realizing how much you were controlling my life.”

Helen felt her eyes bulge. “Controlling?” she said. “Me?” She laughed. “Gloria, I’m only holding you up to PTA standards,” Helen said.

“No, you’re not,” Gloria said, the waver disappearing. “Helen…please just listen.” She took a step closer to her.

“What are you going to do when Landon leaves this school someday?” Gloria asked in a whisper only Helen could hear. “Are you going to try to hold on, or do it all over again at his new school? Are you going to just keep playing these games?”

An exploding sound effect echoed from the movie behind them. “Is the PTA a game, to you, Gloria?” Helen whispered back.

Gloria sighed and stepped away. “Helen, Overridge Academy isn’t changing," she said. “It’s already changed.” She straightened her shoulders and looked straight back at Helen. “I’m planning on requesting Ms. Toriel to be my son’s teacher for next year,” Gloria continued. “If my choices about my own son’s education bother you that much, then just remove me from the PTA. Doing what’s best for my children is more important to me.”

Helen could only stare back. The threat that had worked so well only a few days ago was evaporating right in front of her. She couldn’t comprehend it.
Didn’t Gloria care about the PTA as much as she did?

“They’re good people, Helen,” Glora sighed. “And whatever you have against them… You need to let it go.”

“But that’s the problem,” Helen hissed. “They. Are. Not. People!” She almost bit her lip in anger, sucking in air through her nose. Gloria stared back at her with an expression that took Helen a moment to read.

Was she looking at her with…pity?

Gloria sucked in her lips and looked at the floor. “Helen, do you remember how we met?” she asked, looking back up.

Helen didn’t answer. She stared at a spot on the wall, wondering how she’d missed it when she’d cleaned the place that morning.

“You were the first person to greet me when I came to a meeting,” Gloria continued. “We’d just moved here, and I had no friends, so it was nice to see a smiling face. It was nice…to be welcomed.” She paused. “I got so caught up in the PTA that when the monsters first came, I…forgot about that feeling. It was wrong of me to turn them away when I know firsthand what it’s like to try to find a place to belong after going somewhere new.”

Helen heard Gloria’s heels scrape across the linoleum. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to prove,” Gloria said next to Helen, “but you’re making yourself look silly.” Helen felt a light pat on her shoulder. “Let me know when the person who used to smile and welcome people with open arms comes back.”

The sound of Gloria’s heels resumed, and Helen followed it with her ears until she heard it stop at the door. Helen looked over her shoulder to see that Gloria had taken her usual position between the door and the ever-present table. Helen could almost see the lemon squares.

She shook her head, leaning against the part of the wall Gloria had left empty. Helen tried to calm her breathing. She didn’t want to upset Landon when they would have their talk later. All she could do right now was hope that Gloria would see reason soon.

However, there was a little voice in the back of Helen’s mind, whispering to her…

What if she’s right?

Julia burst out from behind the chairs, screaming. A few of the children watching the movie turned their heads, but looked back at the screen once they saw that it was just a little girl. Julia ran across the room, scream-laughing as she headed towards the door. Gloria leaned over to try to grab her, but missed by an inch as the child continued running right into the hallway—

“woah, look out little kiddo,” a familiar voice said.

Helen felt her lip curl.

Sans caught Julia in his bony hands, lifting her up in the air. She stared back at the skeleton with wide eyes.

Helen waited with a smirk. Any second now, the kid would start screaming—

Instead, she thrust a hand inside one of Sans’s eye sockets.

Gloria gasped, and Helen clamped a hand over her mouth. It was as if Julia’s hand had disappeared, like the void in Sans’s eye socket had cut it off at the wrist. Helen

thought about the student who’d been absorbed. What if this was also—

Sans laughed. “heh. watch it kid,” he said. “you’re gonna put my eye out.”

Julia giggled in response, pulling her hand back. Helen breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that all her fingers were still intact. While that would have been an incredible “I told you so” moment, Helen disliked being proved right through child injury.

Gloria took her toddler back from the skeleton with an apology. Helen looked away, shaking her head. Landon shushed another loud talker. She could hear Gloria and Sans still speaking to each other in the background, but the movie had entered an action scene, so she could only pick up a word here or there. She started wondering if she should just ignore them for the rest of the evening. Gloria already knew that she was upset with her, and any interactions with Sans would just increase her frustration. Maybe it would be for the best if she just—

“So this is Frisk!” Gloria said.

Helen didn’t even look. She still felt the same about the “ambassador” as she had when she’d looked up their name after that phone call. She glanced back towards Landon. The other groups around him on the quilt had scooted away from him, leaving an empty ring of blanket around him. Mr. Fisher’s words about Landon isolating himself floated into her mind. Clearly he had that backwards. If only the other human children would understand—

“IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU TOO, HUMAN!”

Helen jumped at the sound of the new voice coming from the entrance. Judging by the lack of volume control and use of the term “human,” it was probably yet another monster. Helen closed her eyes, holding back a sigh. Rubbing her left temple, she looked back up at the entrance to the multipurpose room. What kind of abomination did she need to scare off this—

Dear god, there were two of them.

Yet another skeleton stood next to Sans. At first glance they were visual opposites—where Sans was short and round, this one was tall and thin. The smile was just as big, though. However, Helen had no clue what this one was wearing. It looked like something out of a superhero movie. Were those gloves or oven mittens on their hands? They were so large that she couldn’t tell.

Helen watched with disdain as the second skeleton shook Gloria’s hand with enthusiasm. The monsters were closing in on all sides. She’d lost someone she’d considered her biggest ally. And now this.

No. She couldn’t let this stand. One of them was more than enough.

Helen squared her shoulders as the skeletons and their small charge made their way over to the group watching the movie. The child ambassador was greeted with enthusiastic waving by a good portion of the group, and soon they were surrounded by a combination of humans and the noisy monster children from earlier on the quilt. Helen felt a flash of frustration as she watched them, her jaw tightening. Why couldn’t they be that welcoming towards Landon?

The skeletons stood near the back, the taller one swinging its arms. Before she could blink, Sans was leaning on the wall next to her.

“hey helen,” Sans said with a lazy one-handed wave.

“Hello, Sans,” Helen said. The skeleton’s glowing pupils were even more disconcerting in the darkness of the multipurpose room.

“have a good conference?” Sans asked, putting his bony hands back in his jacket pockets.

“Yes,” Helen said, stretching her smile a bit. She could feel the joke coming, even though she couldn’t guess what it was yet. “Landon is doing very well.”

Sans nodded. “glad to hear that he’s an aggressive learner,” he said.

“What?” Helen asked.

“the kid must’ve really hit the books,” Sans said with a wink.

For a moment, Helen thought that she’d slipped and had groaned out loud, but then she noticed the taller skeleton dragging his oven mitt hands down his face. He was still standing towards the back of the children’s group, but he was close enough to hear them. “SANS, YOU PROMISED NO MORE JOKES AFTER WE LEFT HER MAJESTY’S CLASSROOM,” he said.

Sans shrugged. “couldn’t help it, bro,” he said.

“This is your…brother?” Helen asked. She’d only started to turn her head in the other skeleton’s direction when he crossed the floor in a few long strides. The skeleton grabbed her hand, shaking her arm up and down like an overexcited puppy with a new stick.

“I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” the skeleton said. “YOU ARE THE THIRTY-SECOND HUMAN THAT I HAVE MET SINCE COMING TO THIS PLACE!” He turned his smile towards Sans. “YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT COMING HERE, BROTHER!” he continued. “I HAVE MADE SO MANY NEW FRIENDS TONIGHT!”

It took everything in Helen’s self-control to not physically recoil.

“glad you’re having a good time, pap,” Sans said.

“INDEED!” Papyrus said, pulling back. Helen folded her arms, pushing her back against the wall so that she could be as far away from the monster as possible without leaving the area.

“NOW, IF YOU WILL EXCUSE ME, HUMAN,” the skeleton continued, one hand in the air, “I MUST GO AND SEE HOW YOUR MOVIE HOLDS UP AGAINST METTATON’S CINEMATIC MASTERPIECES. I HAVEN’T FOUND ONE YET, BUT I APPLAUD HUMANITY’S EFFORTS ALL THE SAME!”

He spun around on one foot, climbing over the children until he sat down next to Frisk. The children behind him shuffled into new spots so that they could see the screen.

Landon was still alone.

“had a feeling we’d run into you here,” Sans said. “this whole thing your idea?”

Helen didn’t look away from Landon’s back. “It was,” she answered. “I started it a few years ago.” She blinked, suddenly remembering who she was talking to. “And what are you doing here?” Helen shot back. “You don’t seem like the type who would expend the energy to discuss your…ward’s academic future.”

“ouch,” Sans said. Helen heard a slight popping sound, and looked over to see that he was holding one of those easy-squeeze ketchup bottles from the supermarket instead of his usual tall one that looked like they’d come straight from a diner. “i guess i can agree that i don’t look the part,” Sans shrugged, moving the cap back, “but i value the kid getting a good education. i do show up at your meetings, you know.”

His mouth hadn’t moved, but Helen would’ve sworn on her parent’s grave that he was smirking at her. She looked back towards the screen. The shadow of the top of the taller skeleton’s skull could be seen at the bottom of the projection.

“If you’ve finished Frisk’s conference, why not go home?” she asked.

“toriel’s gonna be here for a while,” Sans said. “and the flyer said to bring the family, so i did.”

Helen turned her head back to him to find that both his eye sockets were closed. The ketchup bottle was still clenched in his hands. “We are screening a movie, not offering a nap zone,” she said, her frustration bubbling up.

Sans cracked open one eye socket at her and shrugged. “why not both?” he asked.

Helen shook her head. “Never mind,” she said. “But since you’re here, there is something that I need to ask you about, Sans.”

“ok,” Sans said.

“If you did expect to see me, then you must have the ingredient list that I asked from you,” Helen said.

Somehow, Sans’s stare became even more unblinking. “the what,” he said.

“The ingredient list,” Helen repeated. “For the bake sale.”

Sans stared at Helen for a moment and then looked up at the ceiling. “oh yeah,” he said.

Helen frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

Sans looked back at her and winked. “i forgot to ask,” he said.

Helen sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. “It may be…” she paused, gesturing in midair, “difficult for someone without internal organs to understand, but allergy cases can be very serious for humans.” She folded her hands in front of her. “I am only doing what is best for Lan—the children.” She felt herself blush at her slip of the tongue, but Helen hoped that the intensity of her glare towards the skeleton would make up for it.

Sans shrugged again, lifting the ketchup bottle to his…teeth? She could see the ketchup disappearing through the clear plastic, but Helen had no idea how he was drinking it. After a long moment of silence, Sans lowered the bottle and closed it with his free hand. “you could ask toriel yourself,” he said. “i heard you two officially met a little earlier.”

“Yes, we did,” Helen said, bringing herself back down to a normal tone. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Landon shifting in his spot, trying to crane his neck to see over a monster child’s horns.

“besides, no one said that you have to eat the snail pie, helen,” Sans said.

Helen whipped her head around. She stared back at the skeleton in disbelief, eyebrows pulling together. “Is that what you eat?” she asked. “Ketchup and snail pie?”

Sans shrugged and winked. “well, they’re not the only things, but i guess so,” he said. Now it felt like his unchanging grin was mocking her.

Helen set her jaw. Did he ever answer a question directly?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “There will be no gluten products nor unidentified monster food at this bake sale,” Helen said. “Is that clear?”

“hey, not my call,” Sans said, tilting his skull towards the ceiling. “you’ll really be missing out though.”

Helen opened her mouth to reply, but Sans had vanished. She looked around, wondering if this was yet another joke, but then spotted the back of his hoodie sitting next to the taller skeleton. Helen let out a breath and looked up at the projector, hoping that the movie would end soon.

Gloria and Helen didn’t speak for the rest of the evening, and the skeletons and the ambassador left while Helen had her back turned. The good thing about the movie was that cleanup was easy; Gloria simply had to reclaim her quilt and DVD. Once the lights were off, they were done. Helen welcomed the silence. This night had been far more eventful than she’d expected.

Helen took Landon’s hand again in the parking lot, walking along to the sound of crickets. “Honey, why didn’t you tell me about your monster classmate?” she asked.

She felt her son tense, and he looked down at his shoes. They passed under a buzzing streetlight. “I thought you’d get mad,” Landon said.

“Why would I get mad?” Helen asked.

“Because!” Landon said, looking back up at his mom, eyes wide. “You talk about how terrible they are all the time… And I don’t talk to them, I promise,” he said, looking back down at his feet. “But…since I didn’t tell you right away, I just…didn’t know when to tell you.”

“I’m not mad at you, sweetie,” Helen said. “It’s not your fault. It’s the school’s for putting you in this position.” She sighed. “But I wish you’d told me earlier. Maybe there is something I can do about it through the PTA.”

“Like what?” Landon asked, starting to swing their hands like he had at the beginning of the evening.

“I don’t know yet,” Helen said, brow creasing, “but the lines need to be drawn. They’re changing the school, making everyone go along with them when it should be the other way around. This is the human world, not that…cave or whatever they crawled out of.”

Helen saw Landon nod next to her and smiled. “We just have to stay strong, Landon,” she continued. “Don’t let them drag you along into their games, whatever you do. In the meantime, I’ll start petitioning the principal for a guaranteed all-human class for next year.”

“But Mom, I’m going to Outlook Middle next year,” Landon said.

Helen squeezed Landon’s hand. “Right,” she said. Her stomach felt cold for some reason. “Of course you are. …What did you think of the ambassador?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“They’re kinda weird,” Landon said with a shrug. He wrinkled his nose. “Why would anybody want to live with monsters?” he asked.

Helen laughed as they reached their car. “Who knows,” she said, letting go of Landon’s hand to fish her keys out of her purse. “They’re certainly part of the problem here, that’s for sure,” she added under her breath.

“I’ll stay away from them too,” Landon said, smiling up at her. “And, Mom? You really do work hard.”

Helen smiled back at Landon, patting his head. “It’s all for you, sweetie,” she said. “Mark my words, I’ll make a place for you where you won’t feel left out. Not for not talking to the monsters, not for your allergy, not anything.”

Landon smile faltered for a moment, but he nodded back at her with a grin. Helen unlocked the car doors, determined to start writing the agenda for the next meeting as soon as she got home.

She’d need a new Vice President soon.

Chapter Text

Landon jumped when the bell rang.

“Pass your papers forward, folks!” Mr. Fisher called out cheerily from the front of the room. “We’ll go over the answers once you’re back from lunch!”

The end of his sentence was punctuated by the sound of papers rustling, chairs being pushed back, and zippers closing up bags. Chatter grew throughout the room as the students turned in their papers and started to leave for lunch.

Landon placed his pencil back inside its clean blue case, holding out his paper to the person sitting in front of him with his other hand. Without looking at him, his classmate took the paper and passed it forward. Landon sucked in his lips and turned towards his backpack, readjusting its position on the chair. It had started to fall off.

He opened the front pocket and pulled out his lunchbox as his classmates started to leave. A large group walked between the desks next him, one of them bumping his shoulder as they passed. Landon stared after them, opening his mouth to say something, but stopped when he caught sight of a scaly tail dragging on the ground in the middle of the group. He turned away, waiting for them to walk through the doorway before standing up himself.

“Doing okay there, Landon?” Mr. Fisher asked behind him.

Landon jumped and spun around, already shaking his head before he met his teacher’s gaze. “I’m fine!” he said.

Mr. Fisher crossed his arms, but was still smiling. “Gonna go sit with your friends at lunch?” he asked.

“Yep,” Landon nodded, looking away.

“Y’know, your friends can come eat in here with you if you’d rather not be in the lunch area,” Mr. Fisher said, leaning against the front of his desk.

Landon shook his head, his fingers tightening around the handle of his lunchbox. “That’s okay!” he said. “I should, uh, go before all the seats are gone.” Landon turned and ran out of the room before Mr. Fisher could say anything else.

Even though it had only been a few minutes since the bell rung, the hallways were almost empty. Still, everyone Landon could see had a friend or two walking with them. They weren’t all alone like he was. Landon let one hand go from the handle of his lunchbox, willing it to swing normally by his side.

He just had to stay strong, like Mom said.

Landon heard the lunchroom before he even reached the doors. They were thrown open, the noise from inside spilling out into the rest of the school. It looked like the long blue tables were packed already.

Landon hesitated a few feet from the entrance, spotting fuzzy ears, tails, and scales almost everywhere he looked. The monsters were laughing and talking with the rest of the students as if this was normal.

He swallowed. The lunch room felt like a trap waiting to happen.

Stay strong.

Landon squared his shoulders and walked into the lunch room, looking around for a familiar face that wasn’t from his classroom. He speed walked past the monsters down the main isle between the lunch tables. A few heads turned his way for a moment, but most went back to their food with a shrug.

A burst of laughter came from nearby. Landon looked to see the monster from his room still surrounded by the same classmates from earlier, all of them giggling together.

Even though he had no proof, Landon couldn’t shake the feeling that they were laughing at him.

As Landon looked away, he spotted a chance. Sitting at the end of one of the tables, a space taken up by his backpack next to him, was Jacob. He was eating a PB&J sandwich, frowning the way he always did.

Landon hesitated again, but he couldn’t see any more free seats nearby. He walked up to Jacob with slow steps, stopping right behind Jacob’s backpack.

Landon cleared his throat. “Uh, hey,” he said.

Jacob paused mid-chew and glanced up at Landon. He sighed through his nose and swallowed. “What?” he asked.

“Is this seat taken?” Landon asked, pointing at it.

“Yeah,” Jacob said, turning back to his sandwich.

“By who?” Landon asked.

Jacob lowered his sandwich before he could take another bite. “By my bag, obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Landon squeezed his lunchbox to his chest. “That’s rude,” he said. “Your bag doesn’t need a seat.”

Jacob turned around, leaning one elbow on the table. “Look,” he said. “Our moms aren’t friends anymore, so we don’t need to pretend to get along.”

Landon took a step back. “That’s…not what I meant,” he said. “I just wanna eat my lunch.”

“Then sit somewhere else,” Jacob said, turning back around.

Landon stood there for a moment. He could feel his arms shaking a little.

He heard a giggle somewhere in the noise behind him.

“Nobody wants to sit next to racist Landon, anyway,” a voice said.

Landon spun around. “Who said that?” he shouted, his voice cracking.

The giggling grew louder, but he could see several people laughing in his direction now, so he couldn’t guess who’d started it.

“I said—”

Squelch.

Something sticky and slimy hit the back of Landon’s head, and for a moment the area surrounding him was silent. Landon reached one hand around the back of his head, grimacing as his fingertips touched something cool and gooey. When he pulled his hand back around, his fingers were covered in a thin green slime.

“Maybe you’ll like monsters a bit more now that you’re closer to one!” an unfamiliar voice called out.

The lunch tables resounded with a chorus of ‘Oooh’s as Landon felt whatever it was begin to move against his head. His lunchbox fell from his hands.

“Get it off me!” Landon screamed. He reached his hands behind his head, trying to pull the monster off of him, but all he grabbed were clumps of slimy goo that oozed out of his grip.

“It’s gonna absorb me!” he shouted, feeling it move like a suction cup against his scalp. “GET IT OFF! PLEASE!”

Landon spun in a circle, but all he could see were laughing faces. He kept shouting, but no one did anything. He could feel tears running down his face, and the embarrassment of crying in public added on to the humiliation he already felt. The lunch room became a blur.

“Leave me alone,” he sobbed. “I only wanted—”

Someone grabbed Landon’s arms before he could finish his sentence.

He pulled back out of fear—were the laughing kids going to beat him up now too?—but the grip on his wrists wouldn’t let go. Landon looked up, his eyes blurry with tears.

Jacob stared back at him, still frowning.

“Wha—” Landon started, but Jacob shook his head.

“Stay still,” he said.

And then the slimy thing popped right off Landon’s head.

Jacob let go of Landon’s arms with another sigh and walked away. Landon turned around, expecting to see whatever gooey thing that had latched on to him in Jacob’s arms, but his hands were still clean. Landon continued to turn. If Jacob hadn’t taken the monster off him, then who—

Standing behind Landon, cradling the pile of goo in their arms and smiling up at him, was Frisk Dreemur.

They tilted their head down towards the quivering piece of goop and patted it softly, moving their hips from side to side at the same like a strange dance. The slime wiggled back as well and made a strange noise.

Satisfied, Frisk wiped one of their hands on the bottom of their shirt before holding their palm out towards Landon. They smiled, not saying anything, but the gesture spoke just as well.

I’m sorry that they did that to you. You can come sit with me.

Landon looked at Frisk’s hand and then back at their face. “Are you kidding me?” he said.

Frisk tilted their head to one side, eyebrows dropping in confusion.

“Do you really think that it’s that easy?” Landon continued. His throat felt dry. “This is all your fault, you know.”

The area around them grew quiet again. Landon’s voice rose.

“None of this would be happening to me if it weren’t for you and those…those stupid monsters!” Landon continued, his hands balling into fists. “Everything was fine. I didn’t have to worry about making friends, or my grades, or Mom—“ He cut himself off with a shake of his head.

Landon could hear muttering around him, but he cared less about what other people thought with every passing second. “I could’ve died just now!” he shouted at Frisk, his voice cracking again. “Why does anyone think this is safe? Why did you do this to us? We were here first, so why can’t you go back to your real family or take the monsters back to that cave you all crawled out of?”

He could hear his voice echo off the now-silent lunch room walls. “Well?” Landon said, raising his arms. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Frisk didn’t drop their hand, and their smile was still the same.

I’d still like to be your friend.

“DON’T FEEL SORRY FOR ME!” Landon yelled. “IF YOU WERE SORRY, THEN YOU’D LEAVE AND TAKE THEM WITH YOU!”

He lunged forward, throwing his fist towards Frisk’s face—

—And in the second before it connected, he could see that they were still smiling at him.

Helen threw open the door to the front office. She heard it slam against the wall behind her, but she didn’t stop until she’d reached the receptionist’s desk. Slamming her hands against its surface, she leaned over the secretary’s computer monitor, causing the person to jump. “Where is he?” she demanded.

“Who?” the secretary asked, holding her hands in front of their chest as if they expected Helen to jump at them. Helen had never seen them before. They must be new.

“My son,” Helen said. “He was in a…fight during lunch.” She started blinking back tears. “I got the phone call a few minutes ago and I came as fast as I could.”

“O-oh,” the secretary said, dropping their hands a little. “They’re waiting in the back near the principal’s office, but it should be fine for a parent to—”

Helen didn’t wait for them to finish, She left the secretary and pushed open the door on the other side of the desk labelled STAFF ONLY.

“Wait!” they called out behind her. “You need a pass before—!”

The door slammed shut behind Helen as she raced through the hall, darting around other secretaries and students working as office assistants as they appeared through the connecting doorways. She knew that the principal’s office was at the very end of this beige-colored track, just beyond the only turn in the hallway.

Helen tried to calm herself as she raced her way there. This was a good sign. Landon wasn’t in the nurse’s office, which meant that whoever beat them up couldn’t have hurt them too much—but even the thought of someone attacking her son made Helen feel like she was on fire.

Whoever it was, that child would regret putting their hands on her son inside of her school.

Helen reached the corner, turned, and stopped. There were two rows of chairs against either wall leading up to the principal’s door. Sitting on one, shoulders shaking and hair coated with something sticky and green, was Landon.

“Oh god,” Helen breathed.

She kneeled in front of her son, squeezing his hand and brushing his blond bangs out of his face. Landon continued to sob, snot running out of his nose. She felt his hands shake in hers as he tried to say something.

“Shhhh,” Helen said, patting his head. “It’s all right baby, everything is going to be all right.” She reached into her purse for a pack of tissues. She ripped off the plastic seal to pull out a few, wiping her son’s nose with them.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Helen continued. “Where did they hurt you?”

Landon shook his head and hiccuped. His shoulders shook as he pulled his chin towards his chest, his face still red and scrunched up as he kept crying.

“My poor baby,” Helen said, continuing to wipe his tears away. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’re not in trouble. Just tell me everything that happened and we’ll get this all sorted—”

A sound like someone crumpling a plastic bag came from behind Helen. She turned around, wondering who was eavesdropping on her son’s pain. The principal’s waiting area was supposed to be a private place—

Frisk Dreemur sat on the chair opposite them.

They were shifting in their seat, holding a bag of ice against their right eye. It made a crinkling noise as Frisk moved and readjusted their grip on the bag. Once they’d settled down, they smiled and gave Helen a little wave.

Helen’s mouth set itself in a line as she turned back towards Landon. He was still shaking and sniffling, but the sobbing had stopped.

“Landon,” Helen said, putting a hand on her son’s cheek. “You acted in self-defense, right?”

He stopped sniffling for a moment to meet her gaze, but Helen could already see fresh tears forming in his eyes. He opened his mouth and a half-sob came out as the new tears overflowed and ran down his cheeks. Landon shook his head, dropping his face down once more.

“Landon?” Helen asked, trying to peer into his downturned face. “What does that mean? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

Landon kept turning away from her, but he still gripped at her hands. Panic rose in Helen’s chest again. What in the world happened? There had to be some piece of this that she misunderstood. There was no way that her son would attack someone for no reason…

A low whistle sounded behind Helen.

“not that it’s news to me, but you sure can take a hit kid,” a familiar voice said.

Helen looked over her shoulder so fast that she heard her neck pop.

Of course the skeleton was there, sitting in the seat next Frisk that had been empty seconds before as if he’d been there all along. Helen hadn’t even heard him walk in—assuming that he had walked and hadn’t pulled one of his strange teleportation tricks.

Sans held the ice pack a little bit away from Frisk’s face, peering at their eye with his glowing pupils. Even from her limited viewpoint, Helen could see that Frisk’s eye was black and blue.

Sans placed the icepack back over Frisk’s with a gentle turn of his wrist. “just hold that there until toriel and papyrus get here,” he said.

Helen wasn’t sure if he was ignoring her or not. She squeezed Landon’s hands and then cleared her throat.

Sans’s pupils flickered towards her. “hey helen,” he said. He sounded like they were at just another PTA meeting.

Helen ignored his tone. “Do you know what happened?” she asked in a stage whisper, going back to squeezing Landon’s hands.

Sans shrugged. “nope,” he said. “just got a call at the house about frisk getting into a fight. which, uh, sounded kind of out of character for them.” He looked away for a moment as Frisk readjusted the ice pack once again.

“sure you’re ok there, kid?” he asked Frisk. They nodded and smiled back at him.

Helen felt her lip curling. “Landon isn’t the type to start fights either,” she said in as cool a tone as she could manage. “Something must have provoked him.”

Sans shrugged again. “well, frisk is more the kind of kid who finishes fights than starts them,” he said.

For a second, Helen thought she saw a spark of blue in one of the skeleton’s eye sockets, but he closed them before she could be sure.

“and they’re the one with the ice pack,” Sans continued, holding his palm out towards Frisk. “which doesn’t exactly make student of the month over there look—”

He was cut off by the sound of large footsteps rushing down the hallway. The floor shook underneath Helen’s knees. She stood up to look around the corner—

And pulled back just before a white and purple blur knocked her over.

Helen fell back into one of the seats next to Landon, her hands up in the air out of surprise. She blinked a few times before she realized that the giant mass had stopped in front of the human and the skeleton. She blinked again before she recognized the horns.

“Oh my dear, poor child,” Toriel said, kneeling in front of Frisk’s chair the same way that Helen had for Landon. Her furry hands almost engulfed Frisk’s face. “Let me see,” she whispered to them, but still loud enough that Helen could hear.

Helen wrapped an arm around Landon, and he clung back to her in a second. Helen patted his head and looked back at the monsters. She held Landon closer when she noticed some kind of green light coming out of Toriel’s hands.

“Thank you for coming here so quickly, Sans,” she said, moving her hands over Frisk’s face as they squirmed. “I did not know that Frisk had been in the fight until after class had begun. And then I needed to let Mr. Fisher know about the situation…”

Sans shook his skull. “you should thank papyrus,” he said. “he’s the one who drove.”

“Where is he?” Toriel asked.

“uh, probably still parking,” Sans said with another shrug. “he’s a great driver, but he still needs to work on stopping.”

Toriel laughed a little at that, taking her clawed hands off Frisk’s head. Their eye was still swollen and purple, but much less than before. Toriel sighed, standing up. As she turned around, Helen tightened her grip around Landon. The goat monster’s eyes widened as she caught sight of them.

“Oh dear,” Toriel said, raising a hand towards her fanged muzzle. “What happened here?”

Helen rubbed Landon’s arm. “That’s what I would like to know,” she said through tight lips.

Perhaps this could work in her favor. The monster didn’t know what Landon had been accused of yet. She just needed to talk to the principal without them present and get her son out of the building before they decided to retaliate, or worse—

“you don’t need to be so tense helen,” Sans said, making her jump.

He was holding the ice pack against Frisk’s eye again. The child was opening and closing their hand, and Helen could see that their palm was bright red from holding the ice pack.

“it’s not like you’re the one who punched someone,” Sans finished.

Landon let out a sob. The goat monster’s mouth dropped open.

“I told you before,” Helen said, holding her son’s head against her. “Landon is not like that. And I would appreciate it if you would not throw around false accusations until we have the full…story…”

She trailed off as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Helen looked away from Sans, daring to face the source of the sudden pressure she felt.

Toriel stared back at Helen with a gaze that felt like it could light the air itself on fire. She tried to say something, but then she caught the glint of red in the goat monster’s eyes. Had that always been there?

Helen looked away, the pressure lifting a bit. Sans had always been disconcerting, but this was on a different level. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling either—Helen had felt it the moment she’d heard on the phone that Landon had been in a fight. That desire to protect your child at the cost of everything else—somehow this monster had taken that feeling and translated it into fire.

Helen decided that she didn’t want to push her luck and see if she made literal fire as well.

In the moment that Helen looked away, the door to the principal’s office opened. Holding it wide enough for them all to walk through, the principal gestured for them to go inside with a thin smile.

The office was sparse and clean, with a few framed awards for Overridge Academy’s high overall test scores and thank yous for participating in charity events hanging on the walls. The principal’s desk itself only had a few scattered papers on it, sitting behind a polished nameplate.

The principal motioned again towards the two seats in front of the desk. The children sat down, Frisk’s legs swinging a few inches off the ground. Helen stood behind Landon’s chair, and Sans and Toriel stood on opposite sides of Frisk. Helen looked back down at Landon, spotting strings of green still in his hair. Had anyone even attempted to help him clean up?

“I’m sorry to have to call you all in here,” the principal said, taking their own seat behind the desk. “Especially you, Ms. Toriel. I hate to take you away from your class.”

Toriel gave the principal a small smile. “They are used to Mr. Fisher,” she said. “And there was a joint lesson planned for today anyway.” Helen saw her pat Frisk’s shoulder. “The well-being of my child comes first,” she finished.

The principal nodded and smiled back at her. “Of course,” they said.

“I agree,” Helen said, looking at the principal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the goat monster’s head swivel in her direction. Helen didn’t dare look back out of fear of that pressure returning. She leaned forward, putting her hands on Landon’s shoulders.

“The well-being of my child comes first,” Helen continued. “Landon has been assaulted and wrongly accused. And I hope that there is a good explanation for—”

The principal held up a hand to stop Helen’s sentence. “Yes, we will discuss all of that,” they said. “The reason that I kept you waiting was because I needed to finish speaking with the on-duty security officer. He was present in the cafeteria and saw the end of this altercation.”

Helen let go of Landon’s shoulders to talk with her hands. “So then why is Landon still—” she began.

“They saw your son punch Frisk Dreemur in the face, Mrs. Hall,” The principal said, cutting her off. “We still need security footage to verify the student reports about the first part of the argument, but the security officer has no reason to ‘wrongly accuse’ your son of anything.”

Helen leaned back, placing her hands on the top of the chair. “Then why is my son covered in slime?” she asked.

The principal folded their hands together. “Someone threw a Moldsmal at him while he was looking for a place to sit during lunch,” they said.

Helen blinked. “A what?” she asked.

“A slime monster,” Landon whispered.

Helen felt a surge of heat rush to her face. “Someone threw a monster at my son, and we’re here discussing why he punched someone?” she said, her voice rising with every syllable. “Of course he attacked someone! Monsters can absorb human souls! His life was in danger!”

She could see Sans shaking his skull. The pressure from Toriel had increased, but Helen didn’t care anymore. She was just as livid.

“I already know the answer to this, but in the interest of placating Mrs. Hall, I will ask anyway,” the principal said, the calmness in their voice only upsetting Helen more. They turned towards Frisk and the monsters.

“Frisk, did you throw the Moldsmal at Landon?” the principal asked.

Frisk shook their head, the edges of their blunt cut bangs tapping against the ice pack.

“You can’t know that for sure,” Helen said, stepping out from behind the chair. She pointed her finger at the principal. “You just said that you need to check the security footage!”

“I’m certain that it’s not Frisk,” the principal said, shaking their head.

“Why?” Helen demanded. “Have you been taken over by their strange magic too?”

“Because,” the principal said, looking at Helen as if they were addressing a small child. “Frisk was one of the students who helped your son remove the monster from his hair.”

Helen dropped her hand, staring at the principal. “You’re joking,” she said. “What reason would they have to help Landon? How can you be sure that this isn’t just some plan to make themselves look like the victim when they were actually the ones who threw the monster?”

Her son sniffled behind her.

“Are you saying,” Toriel said behind her, voice low, “that my child created a situation where they would be injured for the sole purpose of getting your son in trouble?”

Helen didn’t turn around and she crossed her arms instead. “It’s the only logical explanation,” she said.

She heard Toriel take a breath in order to say something—

“helen, they’re just kids,” Sans said, walking up next to her. “and, uh, i don’t think anybody dislikes your kid enough that they’d try something like that.”

Helen worked her jaw, looking back down at his unchanging grin, but she had no response to that.

“We are still investigating who threw the monster,” the principal said.

“it might’ve been one of the monster kids,” Sans offered. “i used to throw them at papyrus when we were younger.”

“Sans," Toriel whispered.

“i moved on to whoopee cushions after that,” he said with a shrug. “and it doesn’t hurt either monster if you just want to make another one slimy.”

The principal nodded in Sans’s direction. “Thank you for the cultural note,” they said.

“eh, i don’t think it’s a cultural thing,” Sans said, winking. “kids will be kids anywhere.”

The principal smiled. “Thank you all the same,” they said. “That does give us a potential motive. But for now, we need to focus on the actions of the students currently in this room.”

Helen’s jaw felt like it would crack from the pressure she’d put on it. How were they having such a civil conversation about this? Landon had been assaulted, and here they were, blaming him for protecting himself while listening to stories from the skeleton’s childhood.

“The motive doesn’t matter!” Helen said, finding her voice again. “My son’s very existence was threatened today. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for the child sitting right there!” She pointed behind her towards Frisk. “Every problem that has happened in this school has been a direct result of these monsters coming here, and I will not stand for this anymore.”

The principal raised an eyebrow at her. “Every problem?” they repeated.

“Every problem that I’ve encountered,” Helen continued. She slammed a hand on the desk, causing the principal to jump and Sans’s pupils to shrink for a split second. “They need to be removed from this campus immediately!” Helen said.

The principal recovered fast, straightening their posture. “Mrs. Hall,” they said, “We are here to discuss the situation between these two students and decide on a course of action. You are not in a position to tell me how to run my school.”

Helen laughed. “Your school?” she said. “Your school.” She shook her head as she repeated it, pointing her finger back at herself. “I have dedicated so many hours of my time to this school and its PTA to make sure that my son has the education that he deserves. My husband has donated a sum of money so large that we could have just bought this place ourselves. But no, we decided to trust the system, and trust that those actions were enough to make sure that this school would know that we were serious about how our boy would be treated.”

Helen swept her hand towards the monsters. “And then they show up!” she shouted. “With their magic and slime and horns and bad jokes and who knows what else!”

She paused, catching her breath. “Everything I’ve worked for is changing because of them,” she said. “And I won’t tolerate it anymore. Not here.” She jammed her pointer finger on the surface of the desk. “Not. At. My. School.”

The silence that fell afterwards rang in Helen’s ears. Everything was still for a moment.

The principal folded their hands on top of the desk again. “I believe that you’re operating under a severe misunderstanding, Mrs. Hall,” they said, their voice cold.

Helen’s stomach dropped. She pulled her hand away from the desk.

“While your years of volunteer work are greatly appreciated, this is not your school. Nor is it solely for your son,” the principal continued. “This school belongs to every student, teacher, and family member who walks through its doors. And I am the one who runs it, not you.”

Helen tried to catch her breath. The edges of her vision grew fuzzy.

“We will continue the investigation into who tried to humiliate your son, but I cannot let his actions go unpunished,” the principal continued. “And because of your refusal to cooperate with this discussion and your presumptions about where your standing is in this school, I will go ahead with the punishment that I initially had in mind.”

The principal placed their palms on their desk and stood up, staring right back at Helen with a frown. “For his violence and refusal to admit guilt and apologize, he will be suspended for the next week. This is not a point I will negotiate on, Mrs. Hall,” they said as Helen opened her mouth to protest. “I will not tolerate students harming each other during this time of transition.”

Helen closed her mouth and swallowed. She nodded, putting her hands on Landon’s shoulders, silent. She could feel the monster’s stares digging into her.

“Where can I collect my son’s belongings?” Helen asked, looking at a spot on the wall above the principal’s head.

“One of the office assistants will go to Landon’s classroom and bring his things back to you,” the principal said.

Helen nodded, letting go of her son’s shoulders with a pat. “Let’s go home, Landon,” she said.

She looked at the monsters as Landon stood up from his chair. Only Sans was looking back at her. Toriel had turned away, and her body blocked any view Helen might’ve had of Frisk. Helen stared back into Sans’s eye sockets.

“You’re banned from the bake sale,” she said in a flat tone. “You and all other monsters. I don’t want any one of you there.”

Sans’s eyes squinted in confusion. “uh, ok,” he said. “not really sure you can do that, but ok.”

“No, she can’t,” the principal said behind her. “Mrs. Hall, I must remind you—"

Helen took Landon by the hand and led him out of the principal’s office.

She couldn’t breathe until the door closed shut behind them.

Chapter Text

For the first time ever, she was late for a PTA meeting.

Helen tripped over her own heels as she slammed the car door closed, the strap from her purse tangling around her other hand. Helen stomped around in a circle on the parking lot for a moment as she unraveled it, frowning all the while.

It had been three days since Landon’s suspension, and he hadn’t left his room after they’d managed to wash the rest of the slime off. Helen had brought his meals to him and attempted to talk to him a few times, but he’d said nothing to her directly. He couldn’t even meet her eyes. It was clear that he felt guilty over what had happened. She hadn’t wanted to leave him at all, but she’d had a meeting to get to. If only the babysitter hadn’t been late—

Straightening her clothes, she headed for the back entrance to the school. Helen still blamed the monsters. Her son was not the type to punch someone for no reason. She gritted her teeth. And he never would have been, if the monsters hadn’t changed everything. Helen glanced at her watch and picked up the pace. The meeting would fall apart if she wasn’t there to set the tone at the start.

As Helen passed through the gate, she felt a strange weight hanging around her shoulders. The echoing of her heels off the walls in the outdoor hallway made her feel like a trespasser. She shook her head. This was silly. Landon was the one who’d been suspended, not her. She still had a PTA to run, a bake sale to organize. Helen needed to show everyone that nothing was wrong. Landon had defended himself—that was all. The sooner she could move past this, the better.

Then she heard something strange. Helen paused in her run, catching her breath and listening. Was that…laughter?

It was. She turned her head towards the sound. A group of people were laughing somewhere inside the building, muffled on the other side of the wall. Helen blinked. She couldn’t imagine what that was for. Nothing else was scheduled on this side of the school campus during PTA meetings, and no one laughed at PTA meetings either.

Had she gotten the date wrong somehow? She shook her head at the thought. No, that was impossible. She never forgot a meeting date.

Helen walked the last few feet to the door, a new wave of laughter carrying through. She stared at the fake wood paneling for a moment before reaching for the handle.

When she pushed it open, she had her answer.

The familiar tray of lemon squares waited at the table next to the door, but Gloria and her clipboard weren’t next to it. As Helen looked up at the rows of seats, the people sitting in them turned around in unison, staring at her. The last echoes of laughter in the room faded away. But what disturbed Helen more than the fading noise was what she saw at the head of the group.

Gloria was standing in her spot in front of the table, as if she were the president of the PTA.

“Oh! Helen, it’s you,” Gloria said, beaming at her with the fake smile that Helen had taught her. “I guess you didn’t get my message after all!”

Helen took a few steps forward before she realized that her mouth was hanging open. Closing her jaw, she looked around again at the attendees. She spotted the skeleton in the third row, far closer to the front than he’d ever dared to sit before. Helen couldn’t catch his expression—all she could see was the back of his skull, and even that was partially obscured by that ratty hoodie.

“What is going on here?” Helen asked, looking back at Gloria.

Gloria clasped her hands in front of her, her smile not wavering for a moment. “There were some extra issues on the agenda that needed to be discussed, so I contacted everyone on our regulars list to see if they wouldn’t mind starting things a little early for this meeting,” Gloria said, beaming. “I see that you missed my message about it. Sorry!”

You didn’t contact me at all, Helen thought.

“And what were these ‘extra issues’?” she asked, mirroring Gloria’s smile. “As the president of the PTA, it’s my duty to led the discussion about these things.”

Gloria shook her head. “You see, that’s exactly what we wanted to discuss,” she said, tilting her head to one side. “Your position as president of this PTA.”

Helen felt like she’d swallowed several ice cubes. “What?” she asked.

“Let me ask you a question, Helen,” Gloria asked, folding her arms. “Do you know the names of anyone in this room other than mine and our monster regulars’?”

“Of course I do,” Helen said, turning around. Every face in the crowd was familiar to her. She looked in the front row at a blonde woman who’d been part of the group since Helen had joined. But when she tried to meet her eyes the woman looked away.

Helen couldn’t think of her name.

She turned towards the man in the row behind the woman, a balding retiree who’d started visiting because of his grandchildren…right? Or was that the man in the blue shirt on the other side of the room?

Helen continued looking from face to face, remembering bits of stories, small sentences from passing conversations.

But not a single name.

She heard Gloria take a breath to say something.

“Just give me a moment,” Helen said, holding up a hand towards Gloria. “I wasn’t expecting to be put on the spot at my own meeting.”

“No, I think I’ve made my point,” Gloria said, smile widening. “Remembering names was my job, remember?”

Helen looked up as Gloria took a step towards her. “I was the one who got to know the people who came to the meetings,” Gloria continued, pointing at herself.  “And now they agree with me.” She continued walking towards Helen until their faces were only a foot apart. Gloria’s eyes narrowed to match Helen’s glare.

“They’re tired of playing along with your power trip,” she said. “This is the PTA, Helen, not a Russian dictatorship. From here on out, I’m the one who will run things here.”

Helen’s eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open again. “You can’t do that,” she said.

“We already did,” Gloria said, stepping back. “I called a vote.” Her fake smile was back in place. “And you’re out.”

Helen felt like the floor was chipping away below her feet. This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be happening. Not after all that she’d done to get this far—

“If you would still like to participate, you are welcome to take a seat,” Gloria said, her smile turning sharp as she swept a hand towards an empty chair. “Otherwise, I need to ask you to please refrain from further disruption of the meeting. Several of our members have schedules they need to uphold.”

Before Helen realized that she was moving, she found herself seated in one of the hard folding chairs.

Just like that, her status was gone.

Helen clenched her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. It wasn’t working. Helen felt like she’d gone hollow.

It was hard for her to concentrate on what Gloria was saying.

Something about table assignments? For what? She couldn’t mean—

“—I’d like to clarify the requirements to participate in the bake sale,” Gloria said, turning and smiling at the front row of attendees.

It was like Helen was watching herself through a fun house mirror. That was what she did at meetings, not Gloria. Gloria was supposed to be at the back—with her clipboard—

“Previously, it was demanded that an ingredient list be submitted, but that is no longer necessary,” Gloria continued, her eyes skipping over Helen as she looked over the small crowd. “Please simply write what you will be bringing to avoid duplicates and mention any major food allergens, such as nuts.” Gloria beamed out at the audience. “I’m also pleased to say that our monster friends have generously offered to occupy an entire table. We can all look forward to sampling some real monster cuisine at the fundraiser!”

There was a smattering of polite applause. Helen wondered if she should put her head between her legs to keep herself from hyperventilating. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

They’d ruined everything.

It was over. They’d won.

Helen wasn’t sure how long she sat there in a daze, but she snapped out of it once she heard the scraping of chairs across the multipurpose room floor and the low murmuring of people as they began to leave. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to move.

The voices turned softer and softer as more people left, until the only sound left was Gloria rearranging the leftover lemon squares on her tray to take home. It was a familiar sound, but things couldn’t be more different.

“Why?” Helen asked, so quiet that she was sure that Gloria hadn’t heard her.

But the noises coming from the back of the room stopped.

“Remember what I said the other night about making yourself look silly?” Gloria asked.

Helen turned around as Gloria’s footsteps headed up the aisle towards her. Her smile had vanished, replaced with an indifferent line. Gloria stopped right in front of Helen, holding her phone’s screen down towards her. A large white play button covered a video underneath it. Helen could just make out the outline of what looked like the principal’s door.

“You may or may not recall that my son works as an office aid for one period a day,” Gloria said. “He overheard something that he thought I should know about.”

Helen looked up at Gloria and then back at the phone screen as Gloria tapped the video. It began to play.

A muffled voice came out of the phone’s speakers, but the words were still unmistakable.

“They need to be removed from this campus immediately!”

Helen knew exactly where this was going. She couldn’t look away from the still image of the principal’s door.

“Your school? Your school. I have dedicated so many hours of my time to this school and its PTA to make sure that my son has the education that he deserves—”

“You showed this to everyone?” Helen asked, her voice quiet again.

“I really did message you,” Gloria said, taking her phone back. “To see if you could admit you were wrong. But you didn’t think that there would be any consequences for treating the monsters like they were beneath you, did you?” Gloria glanced down at her, and for a moment Helen preferred the oppressive heat that radiated off Ms. Toriel over this.

Gloria shrugged. “It’s not like this is a surprise to regulars, anyway,” she said, stopping the video with a tap. “They all remember how we both acted at the beginning of the year. I’m still not sure why Sans kept coming back.”

She put the phone back into her purse, crossing her arms again. “Honestly, ever since you threatened me, I’ve been looking for a reason to call a vote to remove you,” Gloria said. “The others were sick of it too. I probably didn’t need to take it this far. I’m pretty sure the principal didn’t appreciate you overstepping your bounds. But you still just had to have a little fit, didn’t you?”

Helen stood up, the loud scrape from the chair echoing off the walls. “Landon was protecting himself!” she said, pointing a finger at Gloria. “And you—you used my anger over that scenario out of context just to pull a coup—”

“Your son punched another child in the face simply because they had a connection to monsters,” Gloria said, still glaring at Helen. “They were helping Landon, even though they had no reason to. On the other hand, why would Landon lash out? Someone has to be telling him that monsters are the source of all his problems. Or else why would he be yelling about how it was all their fault?"

Helen stared back at Gloria, fuming, but said nothing.

“That’s right, I know about that part too,” Gloria continued. “When are you going to wake up from this delusion you’re having, Helen?”

She took a step closer, putting a hand on her shoulder. Helen fought back the urge to shrug it off.

“Your time here will be up soon,” Gloria said. “And whether you like it or not, the monsters will stay at Overridge.” She leaned in even closer, whispering into Helen’s ear. “I still have another child to put through school here. And I’m tired of these games. If you want to dig in your heels and act like a racist idiot, then fine. But don’t drag me down with you.”

Gloria pulled back, and Helen felt empty again.

“Do you have something else to say, Helen?” Gloria asked, a slight smirk pulling at the edge of her mouth.

Helen shook her head.

“Good.”

And with that, Gloria walked past her to the exit. Helen heard her pick up her tray and leave.

A moment later, the lights in the room went off. The Gloria that Helen had known had always warned her if she was still in the room before flipping the light switch.

She guessed Gloria didn’t care about things like that now.

Helen slumped back into her seat, the legs of the chair creating a dull scraping sound on the floor. She stared down at her feet, the light from the windows reflecting off the linoleum tiles. She wasn’t sure how she was going to stand back up and walk back to her car, let alone drive back home and face her son. The image of him huddled in bed, sniffling out his apologies, was branded into her mind’s eye. No matter what she said, Helen knew that Landon would blame himself.

All because of a lie born out of fear that things would change for the worse.

The lights flickered back on.

Helen heard a rattling next to her that sounded like someone getting out of their seat, but she couldn’t even be bothered to look to see who it was.

“wow. a guy really can’t get any sleep at these meetings anymore.”

For the first time, Helen didn’t jump at the sound of that skeleton’s voice. Of course it was him. She couldn’t even summon the ability to be surprised he still was here.

“I suppose you stayed late to mock me too,” she said to the floor.

“nah, i just decided to take a nap.” There was another dull scrape in front of her, and fuzzy pink slippers entered her field of vision. He’d taken the seat in front of her.

“ ’sides,” he continued, settling into the chair, “i’ve never really found people getting publicly humiliated all that funny.”

Helen heard something like joints popping and couldn’t repress a small shudder that time. The sound of bone on bone just felt…wrong.

“So you didn’t sleep through my embarrassment, then,” she said, bitterness creeping into her voice.

“not on purpose,” he said. She could almost hear the shrug that time. “both of you are, uh, a little loud.”

Helen sighed. “Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep,” she said, but couldn’t muster the energy to make it sound like the verbal barb she’d intended.

There was a pause as the florescent lights buzzed overhead.

“wow,” Sans said. “this really did mean a lot to you, didn’t it?”

Helen’s vision blurred. She could feel her eyes stinging with tears, but she willed herself not to let any of them fall. Not in front of him.

“hey, uh…” Sans started again, but Helen shook her head.

“I don’t want any condolences from you,” she managed to choke out. She twisted her hands tighter into her skirt. “If you’re not here to laugh…then just go home.”

Against her will, two small tears leaked out of her eyes and fell on her lap. The buzzing from the lights seemed louder than ever.

“ok,” Sans said, his voice quiet. “but, uh…there is something i wanna tell you, helen.”

She didn’t want to listen to it, but she knew that if she stood up now, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from bawling her eyes out.

“i think we might’ve started on a misunderstanding,” Sans continued. “the kid told me some of the stuff your kid said, and uh… after thinking about it, i can’t say that i agree, but… i know what it’s like to be scared that things are changing for the worse. and thinking that there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Helen reached up a hand to wipe her tears away in one rough movement. She glanced up at Sans. The lights in his eye sockets were looking in a different direction, at something far off. Helen had always thought that his smile was fixed, but now it somehow looked a little sad.

“but if the kid taught me anything, it’s that kindness and trying to understand people gets you a lot farther than you’d expect it to,” Sans continued. “and some of the stuff you were saying… you’ve got some wrong ideas about monsters, but you never really had the opportunity to find out otherwise, right?” His eye lights turned to Helen, and she gave him a slow nod.

He closed his eye sockets. Helen was still baffled by how he could do that with bone.

“tori probably won’t like this,” Sans continued, “but… how about helping us out with the table? you’ll get to see a lot of monsters up close. and we sure could use a few extra hands that have opposable thumbs.” He held up his own hands, phalanges clicking together.

Helen gave him a blank stare in response. Work with monsters? At the bake sale? How could she even consider—

And yet—

The idea didn’t repulse her the way it would have just a few short weeks ago.

Helen could see what Sans was offering her: a chance to really get to see some monsters for a few hours, how they behaved, how they reacted. She’d get to interact with them, find out if the things that terrified her from the news were really true.

It was a second chance to make a decision not based on fear.

Helen thought of Landon again, whispering under his breath that all he wanted to do was apologize. Regardless of how much she wanted to protect him, Helen had to admit that she’d done him wrong. But at the very least, she could give him that chance to apologize.

This was the world they were living in now.

At the very least, it would be a learning experience.

Helen took a deep breath and wiped her eyes again. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing what her reflection looked like once she left. Still, she met Sans’s gaze.

“I…would appreciate that,” she said. Helen bit her lower lip for a moment. “Is it all right if I bring my son? …I believe that he has something he wants to say to Frisk.”

His eye lights stared back at her from deep inside his sockets for a long moment. Then he winked.

“i think the kid might have something to say to them, too,” Sans said.

For the first time ever, Helen wasn’t repulsed at the idea of working together with a monster.

Chapter Text

Helen took her first step into the grass next to the soccer field, her heels sinking into the freshly mowed grass. Landon stood awkwardly to the side, holding a plate of cling-wrapped cookies in his hands, unsticking one hand from the wrap and then the other in nervous tandem. Helen took a few seconds to dislodge her footwear from the dirt, ripping her heels out of the grass with the satisfying sound of tearing grass blades.

Every year she forgot not to wear her heels on the grass, and every year Gloria was there to pull her out. But not this year.

Helen shook her head, stepping backwards towards the blacktop to start the long way around to the other side of the field. The bake sale tables were already set up, standing underneath pink and white striped tents that were purchased by the school the year after she’d taken charge of the event. She remembered petitioning the other parents to pool the money, Gloria at her side with a printed handout listing the various other uses and longevity the tents would provide to other school programs—

Helen shook her head again. She wasn't going to think about Gloria, or the PTA, or anything relating to them until she had to face them directly. For now, she was here as a guest. And there was something more important to focus on. She turned her head and smiled as Landon pulled a hand away from the cling wrap once again.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, trying to make the question sound like they were about to do something exciting rather than run a bake sale table alongside someone he’d punched a little over a week ago.

Landon bit his lip, glancing up at her and then back down at the cookies before giving a tight nod. Helen reached out to ruffle his hair a bit, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t jerk his head away. Even though his head was bowed, she could see the edges of a nervous smile on her son’s face.

“It’s all right to worry,” Helen said, looking back at their destination. Her heels clicked on the blacktop. “I…we both handled it wrong. But we're here to apologize. And it's not like we're surprising them.” Helen pulled her hand back to readjust her purse. She wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure her son or herself now.

“They invited us to help,” Helen concluded. “And that's what we're doing.”

Some of the tension had dropped from Landon’s shoulders. “Right,” he said. The smile on his face was wider now, and his eyes sparkled with a look of determination. Helen couldn't help smiling as well. He would do fine.

As for her own apology, Helen wasn't so convinced that it’d be as simple.

By the time they’d made their way around the edge of the blacktop to the row of tables, a small crowd had already gathered beneath the shade of the tents. Putting her hands on Landon’s shoulders, Helen steered him to the side so that they could walk behind the tables.

The nearest person looked up with a smile and started to wave, but then froze mid-action when they locked eyes with Helen. Their hand dropped and they turned their smile to a waiting parent instead. Helen wasn’t sure which was worse—being ignored, or that she still couldn’t remember anyone’s name.

Her hands tightened a little on Landon’s shoulders as they walked past, but then she let him go and patted him forward. “It should be the last one on the row,” she said, keeping her voice bright.

Landon looked back and nodded, some of the nervousness visibly back in the way he’d sucked in his lower lip. But he went forward anyway, holding the plate of cookies with a light touch around the edges. He sidestepped a volunteer who was returning to the back of their table and then picked up speed, heading for the colorful table on the very end.

Helen paused before she followed her son, taking it in. She had to admit, she was impressed. The monster’s table stood out, but not for the species-related reason. It didn’t look so much like a standard school bake sale table as it did a pop-up booth for a professional bakery. The tablecloth had a pleasing pink and purple striped pastel pattern across it, drawing the eye to plates of cookies frosted with star and heart patterns, a three tiered tray of mini cupcakes ranging from what looked like red velvet to dark chocolate, and opened boxes of donuts covered with what looked like a purple lace pattern. Whoever had put all this together was talented.

Her eyes were drawn away from the baked goods to the small flurry of activity when Landon reached the table. Her heart rate spiked for a moment—she knew how Ms. Toriel felt about this, but were the rest of them just as mad? But as she watched, it seemed that the monsters were only moving out of the way to let Frisk through.

As Helen watched, Landon’s shoulders creeped up by his ears once more. He was saying something, but she was too far away to make out the exact words. He finished in a hurry, holding out the plate with stick-straight arms.

Without any hesitation, Frisk smiled and took the plate from them. Helen breathed a sigh of relief, touching her hand to her chest.

“i’m not gonna stop you if you wanna stand there all day, but uh—”

Helen almost jumped out of her heels, her long strapped purse wheeling in the air with her. Yet again she hadn’t even noticed that Sans was right next to her. He simply smiled and winked as she refound her footing, and then continued as if nothing had happened.

“—some of them wanna meet you,” Sans winked. “ask about the cultural differences between human and monster bake sales. stuff like that.”

Helen blinked. “Cultural…differences…?” she repeated.

Sans shrugged. “like i said, something like that,” he said. “not my circus, so i wouldn’t know the details. but i can promise that tori decided against incinerating you for the day, so things should be fine.”

Helen squinted at his unmoving smile. “You’re sure that they actually want me here?” she said.

“one way to find out,” Sans said, winking again.

Helen sighed and looked back towards the monster’s table. Landon was standing next to Frisk, who seemed to be silently introducing them to everyone. Her son reached up to pat the head of what appeared to be an oversized Pomeranian, looking between them and Frisk with awed and excited glances.

“All right,” Helen said, turning back to Sans. “Who…should I start with?”

But instead of Sans, Helen found herself staring in the face of the taller, louder skeleton. He beamed at her.

“DO YOU NEED HELP, HUMAN?” he asked. “MY BROTHER HAS TOLD ME EVERYTHING! IF IT’S MORE FRIENDS THAT YOU NEED, THEN THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN HELP! SINCE WE ARE ALREADY FRIENDS, THEN THIS WILL BE EASY!”

Helen blinked hard, her ears ringing at being so close to Papyrus’s voice. “…What do you mean, exactly?” she asked.

Papyrus folded his arms, still smiling. Helen noticed that he was wearing an apron that said Cook Boy on it.

“THAT IS BECAUSE!” he said, pausing for a breath, “EVERYONE IS ALREADY FRIENDS WITH ME! SO SINCE YOU ARE ALSO MY FRIEND, THEN THEY ARE YOUR FRIENDS TOO! BY ASSOCIATION! THEY JUST DON’T KNOW IT YET!”

Before Helen could respond, Papyrus had taken her hand, leading her towards the table with confident strides. Helen wondered if he knew about the fight, the things that she’d said and tried to do. Papyrus seemed loud, but kind. But she couldn’t tell whether that kindness would still apply if he knew the whole truth. No, it didn’t make sense to Helen for him to act like this at all if he knew what had happened. Sans must have left a few things out of his explanation.

“HERE, HUMAN!” Papyrus said, maneuvering them both between even more large dogs to stand behind the table. “YOU CAN START BY MEETING MUFFET! SHE WAS VERY EXCITED TO TALK TO YOU!”

Helen opened her mouth to ask who Muffet was, only to close it again. She hadn’t seen them behind all the dogs, but the ribbons on their outfit that had the same stripes as the tablecloth. This was the monster behind the pastries that Helen had admired only a few minutes earlier. Yet, she had not expected them to be a spider the size of a child.

“Oh, hello dearie!” the purple spider smiled, showing off tiny fangs at the corners of her mouth. “I heard that you used to run this bake sale.”

“I…did,” Helen said, not sure which pair of eyes to look at. It was a bit hard to tell, especially since Muffet seemed to have a habit of blinking in a clockwise pattern instead of all at once.

“How lovely!” Muffet said, letting out a tiny, high pitched laugh. “I was so happy to find out that humans also run bake sales. I was a bit worried about how my own would turn out on the surface, but they seem to understand the concept just fine!”

“Yes, we usually have one once a year,” Helen continued. She discarded her concern about not knowing which eyes it was polite to look at and moved on to trying to ignore Muffet’s independently moving, separate limbs. As they spoke, one hand appeared to be counting donuts while another rearranged cupcakes so that the trays did not appear to be empty. Two were politely clasped on Muffet’s lap, and Helen decided for her own sanity to pretend that those were the only arms and hands Muffet had for now.

“Are you all right, dearie?” Muffet asked, tilting her head to one side. “You seem a bit tense.” There was a sudden, dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“You don’t dislike spiders, do you?” she asked.

“Oh, no no no, that’s not it at all,” Helen said, waving a hand. It was half true—she didn’t have a fear of spiders. The smaller ones anyway. It was just—

Helen swallowed, deciding to be honest. “I’m still surprised by all the different kinds of monsters,” she said. “I was not expecting to talk to a spider today.” Helen waved a hand towards the table, indicating the pastries. “But…did you make all this?” Helen continued. “I was admiring it before Papyrus brought me over here. Our PTA bake sale is second to none, but this raises the bar. Do you do catering work?”

The flashing vanished from Muffet’s eyes, and her smile turned warmer, more genuine. “I’m glad to hear that, dearie!” she said. “But I can’t take all the credit—all the spiders work very hard to put our best feet forward.”

“It shows,” Helen said, matching her smile. The nervous knot in her stomach was starting to fade away. “How exactly did you get that patterning on the donuts?”

“Well, first of all, everything is made from real spiders,” Muffet started, one of her arms plucking a donut from the box to give Helen a better look.

Helen decided it was best not to ask if she was serious or not.

As Helen settled into a conversation with Muffet, other monsters came and went. Some joined in for a time, others interjected to ask Helen a question about the school or human biology. Most questions were simple and explained with ease, and the look of genuine fascination on the monster’s faces was a reward in and of itself. As time passed, Helen started to realize why Sans had asked her to come—she didn’t understand monsters, and most of the monsters here didn’t understand humans either. And yet they were here, participating in a school fundraiser, trying to understand.

From what Helen remembered reading in the papers, the monsters claimed that they’d been sealed underground by the humans in an aftermath of a war that humanity had forgotten. Helen’s fear had been based on the assumption that the claims of peace were a lie—of course they’d want revenge. Even if the humans didn’t remember what they’d done to the monsters, that didn’t erase the results of their actions. The monsters were coming to override humans, take their living places, push them all out—the same way humans had pushed them underground.

It’s what the humans would do, if the tables were turned. It’s what Helen would’ve done.

But answering a question about what it was like to live without using magic, or how it felt to have blood running through your body, all asked in the same tone as a child wondering why the sky was blue, Helen couldn’t help but feel that fear starting to evaporate. They may have been a different species, but they were just like anyone else. They just wanted to live.

Helen was in the middle of giving a brief explanation on how the atmosphere over the planet worked (she wasn’t a science teacher, and it had been some time since Landon had asked questions like that) when she was interrupted with a CRASH. She and the other monsters that had necks craned them towards the noise—only to see what looked like a large gray rectangle, flashing red and yellow, speeding towards them—!

And stopped with a screech of its wheel in front of the table. Cartoonish tube arms extended out from its—torso? Helen wasn’t sure. But the gloves definitely added to the feel of a cartoon character come to life. And how was that giant box balancing on one wheel?

The…face? Screen? Helen decided to stop trying to make sense of the monsters—whatever it was, it flashed yellow and red, creating an “M.” Out of nowhere, the gloved hands were now holding a microphone.

“HELLO DARLINGS!” a mechanical voice blared out.

For a split second, Helen thought that another explosion had occurred behind her. The monsters scrambled their way around the table, cheering for the rectangle.

“NOW NOW NOW, YOU CAN’T CROWD ME DARLINGS!” the box said, although the voice didn’t seem to mind the attention that much. “I’M HERE ON A JOB! THE FIRST NEWSCASTER STAR ON THE SURFACE! AND I PLAN TO MAKE THE FIVE O’ CLOCK NEWS HOUR DAZZLING THIS EVENING, AND EVERY EVENING, ON LOCAL CHANNEL THREE!”

The monsters cheered again, and despite herself, Helen laughed. Not at the flashing box or anyone else for that matter. Just that…it made perfect sense. The monsters had a few with dreams of stardom too, just like humans.

“AND I WOULD LOVE TO SHINE MY SPOTLIGHT ON THE MONSTERS WHO WORK THIS LOVELY BAKE SALE,” the rectangle continued. “BUT DARLINGS, YOU MUST LEAVE ROOM FOR THE CAMERA TO MAKE IT THROUGH!”

A haggard-looking cat monster with an oversized television camera on their shoulders pushed their way through the crowd of monsters. They angled the lens towards the rectangle. Helen suddenly realized that she’d be in the shot and started to lean out of the way, but one of Muffet’s hands stopped her.

“You’re our guest, dearie,” she said in a whisper. “You don’t have to go anywhere.”

Helen nodded, but couldn’t help looking right into the camera lens.

She was going to be on television. With monsters.

“HOW DOES THE SHOT LOOK?” the rectangle asked the cameraman. Helen noticed the cat monster’s face contort in an odd way for a moment, but they still give the box a thumbs up.

“THEN WE’LL START RECORDING!” the rectangle said. “LET’S SEE IF WE CAN GET THIS ALL IN ONE TAKE!”

Helen sat still throughout most of the interview, which involved the box asking Muffet a few questions about the bake sale and monsters adjusting to differences in human food palettes. There was also a lot of posing. The box looked like solid metal, but Helen wasn’t so sure after watching the rectangle twist themselves into various directions so that they took up at least two-thirds of the camera shot at any given time. There were also roses at one point, which appeared and disappeared as randomly as the sudden microphone. …They had said that this was for a local TV station, right?

But then the microphone was thrust into her face. Helen blinked up at the flashing lights on the rectangle. “AND WHAT IS YOUR NAME, HUMAN?” the box beeped. “WHAT BROUGHT YOU OUT HERE ON SUCH A BEAUTIFUL DAY THAT RIVALS EVEN MY LOOKS?”

“Um…” Helen blanched, looking between the camera and the rectangle. “I was…invited. To help. By…a friend.”

“HOW LOVELY, DARLING!” the rectangle said. “SO NICE TO SEE MORE HUMANS MAKING FRIENDS!”

They whirled back around towards the camera, and Helen let out a sigh of relief.

“AND THERE YOU HAVE IT, MY LOVELY VIEWERS! HUMANS AND MONSTERS WORKING TOGETHER AT THE AMBASSADOR’S SCHOOL BAKE SALE! THE COOPERATION… IT BRINGS A TEAR TO MY EYE! THIS IS METTATON, SIGNING OFF FOR NOW! TUNE IN TOMORROW FOR WHATEVER NEW DRAMA AWAITS US! ON CHANNEL THREE! GOODBYE FOR NOW, DARLINGS!”

Helen watched the rectangle wave at the camera in a slight daze. Even under the threat of nervousness, that statement had fallen out of her so easily. Was that true? Even after all the nonsense and pettiness, did she actually think of Sans as a friend?

“do you really think that, or were you playing it up for the camera?”

Helen turned, not even surprised at this point. Sans was just grinning at her from the side, holding a ketchup bottle. She squinted at it. “Where…” Helen started, and then shook her head. “You know what, never mind.”

Sans shook the bottle with a wink. “brought this from home,” he said. “was kinda holding out for a grill, but maybe next time.”

“There’s usually a fundraising one towards the end of the ye—don’t sidetrack me!” Helen said, catching herself.

“sweet,” Sans said, readjusting the cap on the ketchup bottle. “i cook a nice dog. no mean ones, they bite back.”

Helen groaned at the bad joke. “Do you need anything from me, Sans?” she asked.

“just wondering if you have an answer,” Sans said, shrugging.

Helen tightly turned her head away, folding her hands on top of the table. Muffet was talking to a parent who’d expressed interest in knowing what brand of sugar the monsters used, their expression growing more confused by the second. But Helen couldn’t play dumb about not hearing Sans’s question for long. Only after another another moment had passed did she look back at him.

“Can we talk elsewhere?” she asked. “I don’t…” Helen glanced towards the neighboring table, where a PTA member turned their head away.

The eye lights in Sans’s sockets followed her gaze, and he nodded. Without another word, he walked away from the table, disappearing past the dogs, who were dividing up bone-shaped treats from a box. After waiting a few more beats, Helen followed in silence.

Sans stood at the edge of the unoccupied part of the field, grass dry and flattened from repeated trampling by the students. Off in the distance, closer to the blacktop that ringed the grass, a few of the monster and human children were playing, running in big looping circles after one another with excited shrieks. Sans didn’t say anything until Helen was standing right next to him.

“you really that scared of them now?” he said, tilting his skull up towards her.

“Scared?” Helen echoed.

“you were the queen bee of this place, and now you don’t even want them to overhear that you might actually like us a little,” Sans grinned at her.

“That’s—”

—Not entirely wrong, Helen’s internal voice finished for her.

She closed her mouth with a click of her teeth. Maybe the reason why she’d always found Sans so frustrating was that it felt like whatever she did, he was a step ahead.

“I’m not afraid of them,” Helen half-muttered, crossing her arms as she looked out over the field at the children.

“well, they used to be pretty afraid of you,” Sans said. Helen heard the bottle of ketchup pop open. “being afraid of retaliation isn’t unrealistic. even after that last meeting. pretty sure that one was just for gloria.”

Gloria. Helen’s shoulders slumped a bit. It was only a matter of time before she ran into her here. What would she say to her? What could she say to her? They’d made their feelings clear. Helen had pushed and pushed and hadn’t listened, expecting Gloria to be a loyal second in command always. And now…

“sorry to drag you over here if you didn’t feel like talking,” Sans said, and Helen didn’t pick up a single hint of sarcasm in that statement. He really did sound concerned. “but, uh, it looked to me that you’ve warmed up to us faster than anyone could’ve guessed.”

“You’re right,” Helen said, keeping her eyes on the kids. She’d spotted Landon in the group, almost tripping as he ran with the group in a game of tag, his smile the biggest she’d ever seen it. She blinked hard a few times to keep the tears from coming.

“If you’d told me a month ago that I’d be at the monster’s table at the bake sale, I’d have laughed for the entire PTA meeting,” Helen admitted.

“heh,” Sans chuckled. “i gotta say the same. if someone had told me that i’d offer, i would’ve said that they were over-estimating my commitment to this thing.”

Helen finally looked down at him again as he took another sip from the ketchup bottle. “How do you mean?” she asked. “You fall asleep at meetings a lot, but… you’ve always showed up.”

Sans didn’t respond at first, putting the ketchup bottle back inside his jacket with a slow movement. Helen looked back towards the monster children. A different one was “it” now, running after the rest of the children like a herding dog trying to round up sheep.

“i don’t think that this means as much to me as it does to you, helen,” Sans said. “i only came to that first meeting ‘cause tori asked me to.” He shrugged. “it got me out of the house for a while. and then you started making all those funny faces and i thought… heh. maybe this’ll be fun.”

For a second, Helen believed him. Then she remembered the way his eye socket had flashed blue from the back row when she had suggested splitting up the monsters and the humans. Helen glanced at Sans out of the corner of her eye. He was staring out at the kids as well, but there was something distant in the glowing light of his eye sockets.

“if you can’t really say whether or not we’re friends, that’s fine,” Sans said, putting his hands in his jacket pockets and looking back at her. “i’ve got a different question for you, though."

She blinked back at him “What is it?” Helen asked.

Sans looked at her face to face, eye sockets blank. Helen resisted the urge to swallow.

“do you think anyone can change?” he asked.

Helen’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Sans tilted his skull back out towards the children. The eye lights did not return.

“let’s say…someone does something terrible,” he said. “something unforgivable. something that they can never take back, not really. but afterwards, they do everything in their power to make up for it. they’re a model citizen, and always go out of their way to help their friends. everyone around them loves them.”

Sans pauses.

“but. they’re still that person who did that terrible thing. it’ll never go away, no matter how many good things they try to do to counteract it. they’re living their life to prove that they’re different, that they’ll never do something like that again.”

“so. do you think someone like that could really change?”

A wind picked up, rustling the grass. From behind her, Helen heard a couple surprised yelps and laughs as the breeze picked up some napkins and unsecured paper receipts. But she didn’t even glance over. She kept her gaze fixed on Sans’s dark one, turning over his question in his mind.

“I think…” she started, twisting her hands as she put the words together, “that it may depend on the details sometimes, but… Overall?”

Sans nodded, and Helen looked at the cloudless sky above them before looking back down and giving him a real answer.

“I think that the worst people are the ones who won’t change,” she said.

Sans’s eye lights flickered back, and Helen realized that his face had slipped, mouth and eye sockets round with surprise. But a second later, the immutable grin was back.

“and what makes you say that?” he asked.

“Even making an effort means that they know what they did was wrong,” Helen said, understanding it herself the more that she talked it out. “Being forgiven is something else. That’s not up to the individual, that’s up to the person or people they affected. But making an effort to change themselves… That alone proves that they’re not the same person anymore. So if you think of it in those terms, they’ve already changed, whereas people who can’t or won’t change just continue doing horrible things without learning. So…”

Helen paused, hands gesturing in the air in front of her as if she could pull the right words out of it. “That’s why,” she continued. “The worst people are the ones who can’t change. Because they don’t even understand that they did something wrong. They can’t comprehend seeking forgiveness, or trying to be different. Does…any of that make sense?”

She stopped, looking back over at Sans. His eye lights were still there, but his grin seemed a bit bigger than usual.

“it does,” Sans replied. “i just wasn’t expecting an answer like that from you, helen.”

“So what were you expecting?” Helen asked, glancing back at the kids. She watched them make a lap around the field once more. She’d surprised Sans. Finally. After all this time that he’d made her jump from his random appearances, she could surprise him right back. Just in a different way.

“dunno,” Sans admitted. She saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye. “you just struck me as someone who saw things more black and white.”

“I do, usually,” Helen admitted, shifting her weight to prevent her heels from sinking into the grass again. “It makes things easier if you see everyone as with you or against you.”

“and now you’re suddenly changing your mind,” Sans said.

Helen folded her arms, still watching the children. “I…was afraid,” she admitted. “I thought that the world was suddenly becoming more dangerous for my son. And yet…” She trailed off as she saw a monster without arms playfully bounce their head off Landon’s shoulder, sending them both rolling and laughing into the grass.

“You’re it!”

“I…am sorry for how I acted the other day,” Helen said.

“everybody deals with stuff differently,” Sans replied. “tori says that crying once in a while is good for you.”

Helen shook her head. “Not just that…everything that I’ve done, and the things that I said and tried to do. I’m sorry. All I can do now is apologize,” she finished.

“you can do more than that,” Sans said, his voice at her side a bit softer now. “in fact…you already have. just by wanting to change.”

Helen’s brow furrowed. “Wanting to?” she repeated, finally looking back at him.

“that was something I learned from the kid,” Sans said. “people have to want to change.”

“And you thought that I wanted to?” Helen asked.

Sans winked at her. “why do you think i asked you to help out today?” he said.

“Oh,” Helen said, jaw dropping a bit before she could stop the word from slipping out. “So if I hadn’t…?”

“there’s a bit of a line between hatred and fear,” Sans shrugged, looking back at the kids. “just wanted to know for sure which side you fell on.”

Helen closed her jaw and looked back at the field, watching Landon yell with a smile as his orange, spiky classmate chased after him. She smiled—and realized that she wasn’t afraid of what was happening in the slightest. Not anymore.

She’d only been afraid, but she’d wasted so much time and hurt so many people in the process.

Landon tried to take a sharp turn to lose his classmate, but his ankle caught on their tail, and he tumbled to the grass instead. He popped back up on his feet a moment later, laughing. “I’m it!” he yelled, and the other kids ran screaming with glee in the opposite direction.

They’d only been afraid, but they still wanted to change. It hadn’t been too late. They could start over again. She had just never gotten close enough to see it before. All she had to do after all this time was talk to them. Even in the short span of time, the monsters felt like longtime friends.

Helen glanced back at Sans. His eye sockets were closed, and for a moment he was so still that Helen wondered if he’d fallen asleep standing.

“one last question,” he said, making her jump a little.

“Yes?” she answered, not sure where the conversation was going anymore.

“ever get the feeling that you’re living in a dream?” Sans said, opening his eye sockets again to stare out over the field. “like you’ll wake up and it’ll be five, ten, maybe even twenty years ago and you’ll have to do this all over again?”

She stared at him with a furrowed brow, confused. “No?” she said.

“well,” Sans shrugged, closing his eye sockets once more, grin immovable. “some people say it’s better to live in the moment.”

Helen opened her mouth to respond, but didn’t know what to say. The skeleton continued on.

“point is, ever since we left the underground, it feels like all i’m doing is killing time,” he said, shrugging. “but even though i started doing this as a favor, i can’t say that it hasn’t been fun sticking around to see what kind of face you’ll pull next.”

Half of a laugh escaped through Helen’s mouth. “To be honest with you, you’ve really kept me on my toes, Sans,” she said.

“nah, you don’t have to take me into consideration that much,” Sans said, nodding towards the group of kids. They’d stopped playing tag and now were discussing something in a group, Landon looking back over his shoulder at them every few seconds.

“you’ve got better things to do,” Sans said.

As the skeleton finished his statement, the kids started walking back towards them, a few of them starting up tag again. But, Landon, Frisk, and the monster kid with just a head and a tail continued heading towards them. Landon’s shoulders were rising up towards his ears again.

Helen took a quick glance towards Sans—but he was already gone. That was fine—he was right. She did have something more important to focus on.

“Landon?” she called out as the group came closer. “Is something wrong?”

They stopped a few feet away from her. Landon looked back at Frisk, who nodded. He shuffled towards Helen, his eyes on the ground. Helen stooped down to his eye level when he stopped in front of her. “Landon, sweetie?” Helen said, brushing some hair out of his eyes. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? I thought you were having a good time.”

Landon glanced up at her and then back down at the ground. “I was… I am!” he corrected himself with a shake of his head. “But, um… I was talking to Frisk and the others, and um… I don’t… want to lie to you anymore.”

A pit of fear opened up in Helen’s stomach. “Sweetie, you’re scaring me a little,” she said. “What is it?”

Landon took a deep breath, opening and closing his clenched hands once before finally looking Helen in the eyes. “I lied about being allergic to stuff,” he said.

Helen blinked. “What…do you mean?” she asked.

The words tumbled out of Landon as if he’d been bottling them up for a long time. “It’s just you got really busy with the PTA stuff and it felt like you were putting me in extra things just to keep me busy? Because you couldn’t watch me? And sometimes I’d ask you about stuff and you wouldn’t hear me because you were on the phone or about to go to a thing and it felt like you were ignoring me but then Jacob got sick that one time and said that he had, uh…” Landon paused in his rambling statement, trying to remember the name of the allergy.

“A-Anyway,” he stuttered a little, “his mom is always busy too, because she was always helping with the PTA stuff… But when that happened, she gave him a lot of extra attention. He told me one time.” Landon stopped and bit his lip. “So…I thought that…if I did that too, then you’d also pay more attention when I asked you about stuff.”

He stopped, still staring right at Helen, despite his eyes turning glossy with unshed tears. Helen felt her heart sink into the grass alongside her heels.

“Sweetie—” Helen started, but Landon shook his head.

“I know that it was dumb and wrong and that I’m not supposed to lie, but…” Landon rambled, roughly wiping at his eyes before the tears fell. “But it…didn’t really go the way I thought. I got left out of stuff, and I could’ve just told the truth. But I didn’t.” He sniffled. “I’m really sorry, mom,” he continued. “This all happened…because…of me…” Despite his efforts, tears rolled openly down Landon’s face.

“Oh, honey,” Helen said, drawing her son into a hug. “This was not your fault." She squeezed him tightly against her for a moment, and then let go.

"Believe me. I shouldn’t have pushed you far enough to think that you had to lie for me to care about you," she continued. Landon was still sniffling, but he didn’t seem to be nervous anymore. She brushed the hair out of his face, Sans’ words about wanting to change still sounding in her mind.

“Let’s make a promise,” Helen said. “No more lies. We’re going to be honest with each other, okay? We’re not gonna act out of fear or anger or because we feel like we're being ignored anymore. We’re going to talk things out, and tell each other what we’re feeling. And then we’ll decide what we’re going to do. Okay?”

Landon nodded and smiled, wiping his face one last time. “Okay!” he said.

Helen smiled as well, pushing some of Landon’s hair behind his ears. “Go have fun with your friends,” she said, nodding towards Frisk and the monster in the background.

She expected Landon to run off, but instead he looped his arms around her neck for another quick hug. As soon as Helen could process what he was doing, he’d already let go and was running back to the others. “I’ll be back in a bit!” Landon waved at her.

Helen laughed and waved back, standing back up. She looked towards the row of bake sale tables. A few had already started packing up—the window of time that the school had granted the PTA to use the field would be over soon enough. She started walking towards the monster’s table—she wasn’t sure if she’d be much help with cleanup, but perhaps she could carry something in exchange for the children playing together for a bit longer.

But Helen stopped as soon as she made it back in earshot of the table.

Gloria turned around as Helen approached, perfect nails tapping on her clipboard. Her smile seemed even less genuine than the last time that Helen had seen her, even though she couldn’t spot any physical differences. It was more like a feeling. A bridge burned that couldn’t be repaired.

“Oh, hello, Helen!” Gloria said in a cheery voice. “I’m afraid that you’ve missed most of the bake sale. I’ve been going around asking those with more elaborate displays to start cleaning up—”

“I’ve been here for a while, Gloria,” Helen cut her off. She wasn’t going to let Gloria insult her further—and yet, she didn’t feel the same kind of anger and sadness that she’d felt at that last PTA meeting. In fact…none of it bothered her, now that she thought about it. She’d made up with her son and was able to speak with and see the monsters for who they actually were. Wasn’t that far more important than who got to call the shots at a bake sale?

Gloria’s mask slipped for a second, her eyes widening in true surprise. But the smile fell back into place a moment later. “Oh, really?” she said. “I wasn’t aware. I hope that you enjoyed the baked goods! I’m glad that what happened at the meeting didn’t prevent you from supporting the school.”

She didn’t know. Helen smiled back at Gloria. “Actually, I’ve been helping out,” she said, nodding her head towards Muffet. The spider nodded back and waves two of her hands at them before returning to counting the bills in the cash box. When Helen looked back towards Gloria, it looked as if she were about to fall over from shock.

“You?” Gloria spat out, all pretense gone. “Helping the monsters?”

Helen’s smile extended into a grin. “Yes,” she said. “They asked me to come. No one informed you?”

Gloria looked at her clipboard and then back at Helen. “No, no one did,” she said, a hint of an edge creeping into her voice. “All they said was that there would be more volunteers than they could name off hand, and maybe some extra…” As she spoke, realization crept across Gloria’s face.

“Dammit, Sans,” she whispered under her breath.

It took all Helen’s self control to not laugh in Gloria’s face.

“Well, that’s how he is,” Helen said, shrugging. “He’s not good on specifics. Oh, but he was expressing some interest in the fundraiser grill that we have towards the end of the year,” Helen continued. “You can probably get back at him by ‘volunteering’ him for that.”

Gloria looked at Helen over her clipboard with squinted eyes. “I…can do that?” she said.

“‘If a parent or guardian who regularly attends PTA meetings and can be assumed to have reasonable knowledge of the schedule of PTA sponsored events but said parent has not directly volunteered to support any events over the previous four school months prior to the considered event, then the head of the PTA may, at their discretion, ‘volunteer’ said parent or guardian to the event in the interest of fair distribution of labor between PTA members,’” Helen rattled off.

Gloria stared back at her, slack jawed.

“It’s from the PTA handbook that’s available at every meeting,” Helen said, smiling back at her. “If Sans doesn’t read it, then it’s his own fault for not knowing the duties that his membership entails.”

For a moment, the old awed look that Helen remembered from when Gloria had first joined the PTA flickered across her former friend’s face. But then it vanished behind the mask of a smile again.

“Thank you,” Gloria said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She started to walk back towards the other tables, but then turned back to Helen.

“Are you…planning on coming to the next meeting?” she asked.

Helen blinked in surprise. “If you’ll have me,” she replied.

Gloria tapped her clipboard with her pen. “I don’t ever want to make it habit to turn someone away,” she said, and for a second the smile slipped one last time, turning into something genuine. “I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

And she was gone, talking to the person running the next table over. Helen let out a slight sigh. That had gone a lot better than she’d dared to hope, given how things had gone when they’d last spoken to each other. Things would never be the same again, but Helen found her mind drifting back to Sans’s earlier words. They both wanted to change, and were making steps towards it. So who could say? Maybe they’d find a truce in the future.

And speaking of skeletons—

Helen turned back towards the table. The dogs were alternating between digging through the trash and actually putting the extra unsold boxes away. …It looked like one of them was actually packing trash, and no one was stopping them. Muffet seemed to have finished going through the cashbox, and was now dividing up the bills, presumably to figure out the school’s take. And were those smaller spiders on the table…? Helen decided that she didn’t want to know. Instead, she glanced at the group of excited…what were they, exactly? They were small and continued to shout “hi” in a strange accent, but they seemed harmless enough. And there were even more monsters than that, bringing along boxes and packing tape as the kids continued to run in the field behind them. Helen could see Toriel watching them, a distant smile on her furry face. That was another conversation that Helen was not looking forward to, but maybe eventually she could earn her mercy.

“SANS, HELP WITH THE BOXES!”

Helen turned around at Papyrus’s voice and was greeted by a teetering pile of still-sealed donut boxes. She hadn’t seen those earlier. How many had Muffet made?

“i think you’ve got it, bro,” Sans’s voice said beside her. She didn’t even bother looking this time, although Helen did feel a brief flash of concern about getting used to a literal skeleton appearing next to her on school grounds.

“IF YOU FIND ANY EXTRA, BRING THEM BACK TO THE CAR!” Papyrus’s muffled voice said from behind the tower of donut cases. Then, somehow not tripping or dropping any of the boxes in the process, Papyrus turned and took off running across the field towards the blacktop where participants cars were parked. Helen watched in slight concern as Papyrus skidded to a stop in front of a red convertible and dropped the boxes into the back seat.

She turned to Sans. “Aren’t those going to fall out?” she said, pointing towards the car.

Sans shrugged, taking his ketchup bottle out of his jacket again. “only one way to find out,” he said.

Helen shook her head and smiled, looking back towards the monsters packing up. She felt the itch to go help as well, but she also didn’t want to just…walk away.

“Did they give you something to do?” she asked Sans, tilting her head towards the rest of the monsters.

“yes and no,” Sans said with a wink and no further elaboration. “i should probably start making up for lost time on the nap i missed today.”

Helen quirked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t want to help?” she asked, putting emphasis on a certain word.

“like i said, we needed someone with extra opposable thumbs,” sans said, closing his sockets. “that way mine can take a break.”

Helen stared at him for a second, and then it sank in. “Pfft,” she spluttered, not able to keep a laugh from escaping her before clamping a hand over her mouth.

Sans sat down on the grass as she laughed. “see helen," he said, "what you’ve gotta know about me is that the only thing i’ll work hard at is taking the easy way out. that’s how i’ve always been, and it’s probably how i’m gonna stay.”

Helen shook her head a bit at the self-deprecation, not entire sure if he was still joking. She crossed her arms. “And what about all those things you said earlier?” she asked. “About having to want to change?”

Sans shrugged and he laid down in the grass. “exactly,” he said. “i’m too lazy to want to.”

Helen shook her head again as Sans took another sip from the ketchup bottle.

“You know what, I have one last question too,” Helen said, looking down at him.

“okay,” Sans replied.

“Why do you eat ketchup that way?” she asked. “Why can’t you just…put it on something? It’s a condiment, not a food item in and of itself.”

Helen kept up her usual exasperated tone, but halfway through, she couldn’t help but start smiling. To be honest, she didn’t care about the specifics anymore. Sans and his lack of explanations had taught her to take things as they came.

True to form, Sans winked.

“fight me, helen,” he said.