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Chapter Text

“Just take yer suitcase and get out!” Karl threw a duffle bag onto the Latchkey lawn, sending Doughy hopelessly running out of the house for it. Before he even picked it up, he heard the front door lock with a click. “Finally, he’s gone!” He heard Kim giggle, Karl joining in. Doughy clutched his bag to his chest for comfort, flopping on the grass, near tears. Oh no, I’m gonna get tears on my Pious Scout uniform! What will Scoutmaster think?! His eyes welled more. What’ll God think?!

“Hiya, Doughy!” Orel came to his rescue, waving eagerly as he exited a car onto the lawn. “Gosh, are you okay, Doughy?” He offered a hand to help him up. His kindness allowed Doughy to successfully swallow his tears and smile. “Y-yeah. Just a little nervous for the trip.” He grabbed Orel’s hand and got on his feet, visibly grateful. “Thanks, Orel.”

“Sure! And don’t worry about this trip; I know white water rafting can be scary, and it’s our first time! But I try and remember we’re all beginners, so-” His enthusiastic ramblings were cut off by the car horn. “C’mon, boys!” Called Clay. “Bar opens in 25 minutes, and I haven’t had a drink yet. Oh and you don’t wanna be late for your camping trip er whatever.” He drummed his fingers from the booze withdrawal. “Gee, he’s right! C’mon, Doughy, I’ll help you with your bag!”

“Okay!” Orel’s simple act of friendship turned Doughy’s abysmal morning around. He continued to smile as the walked to the car, bag in hand.

“Golly, thanks again for driving us to our camping ground, Mr. Puppington!” Clay chuckled. “Of course, Doughy! Budget cuts did make it impossible for you kids to have a bus pick you up for camp!”

“Really?”

“Yes. In fact, the Moralton Environmental Society then questioned the choice to cut funding for buses, with some ‘cut down on cars’ liberal hooey!”

“Gee,” Commented Orel. “‘Gee’ is right, son! So you can imagine the town was given no choice but to then terminate the Environmental Society to silence those dirty hippies. Buh-bye, dirt club!” He laughed with hostility. “But Dad, don't the workers their need jobs?”

“Oh, Orel. This will teach them to get real jobs, like the normal, depressed folks of Moralton. You know, teachers, doctors, oil drillers, that sort of thing!”

“But don't they-”

“Orel! Don't question me in front of other people. Do you think Jesus questioned God when he created Hindus?”

“No. Sorry, Pop.” Doughy decided to keep the vibe from getting dark, seeing Orel's disappointment. “Hey Mr. Puppington, are we picking up anyone else, like Tommy, Billy or anybody?”

“No, Doughy. They're out of the way. Plus, you're the least grating- I mean, most pious of Orel's pals!”

“Wow, you mean that?!”

“Yeah, sure, kid. Don't puke from excitement,” He muttered, lighting a cigarette. They pulled up to Nature-esque Forest, Clay running over a few Watch for possible Wildlife signs. “Bye, boys! Happy camping! Stay safe or it’ll make Daddy look like a bad outdoorsman and parent!”

“Wait, Dad!” Orel acted quickly before Clay peeled off. “What?! I mean, yeah, son?”

“I’m a little nervous about white water rafting-”

“Orel, what did your mother andI  mostly I, tell you a dozen times about this rafting anxiety business?”

“‘The Lord will protect me.’ I know, but Dad, can I have a hug just to be safe?” Doughy prayed he’d say ‘yes,’ wanting some hugs for himself. “Son. Other cars are pulling up.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You see any other dad hugging their kids?” Orel hung his head and admitted with defeat, “No.”

“Precisely. We want you to be tough, that’s all! Like men! I mean, hugs, Orel, in public? You boys are nine!”

“Actually-” Orel covered Doughy’s mouth, knowing correction would be deemed disrespectful to his father. “Joseph didn’t hug Jesus before he went on his first quest to prove other religions false and inadequate, did he?”

“Well-”

“Exactly. Look, clock’s a-tickin’, so’s my need for a morning scotch. Bye, kids! See ya in three days!”

“Four,” Corrected Orel. “Yeah, whatever. Bye.” He closed the car door and peeled off again, narrowly missing a stop sign to knock down. Orel couldn’t help but feel dejected. He knew, of course, his father was right. Christian adults always were, especially the men. Was he stupid for craving a hug? Little did he know, Doughy felt the same. They stood awkwardly in silence for a few moments, the other kids heading to the campsite. “Y’know, Orel, my parents didn’t even say goodbye to me… so I understand if you’re sad, and you wanted your dad to give you a hug."

“My mom hardly looked up when I left this morning…” Orel’s voice cracked. “Are we… immature?”

“Maybe. Can we sit down for a few seconds? I’m too sad to talk to everyone just yet.”

“Yeah, me too.” As they both sat down, one more car pulled up. Out of it came Joe, in a camping uniform. “Joe’s a Pious Scout?!” Doughy whispered. “Well… I guess ‘e is now!” Orel shrugged. “I don’t wanna!” Joe fought, getting out of the car but immediately flopping on the ground. “Joe, don’t soil your uniform.” When he refused Ms. Secondopinionson’s help, she sighed and leveled with him. “Your therapist said you need to socialize more. This’ll be great! Outdoors, with your frie- kids you know, getting as dirty as you want.” He looked less resistant to the idea, and she smiled, seeing her talk was working. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Joe. But think about how much fun we’ll have when you get back! We can watch movies all day, get ice cream, I’ll even make mud pies with you!” He smiled. “You mean that?” Doughy and Orel watched in awe, never once seeing Joe like this. He stood up and hugged Ms. Secondopinionson, which made Orel and Doughy audibly gasp. “Hey, is that Orel Puppington? And Doughy Latchkey?” They froze. Ms. Secondopinionson grinned. “Great! Kids, this is Joe’s first trip. Would you mind showing him the ropes? You two are said to be fantastic scouts!”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Joe rolled his eyes. “Sure, Miss Secondopinionson, we’d love to!” Orel patted Joe’s shoulder. “Oh, hoo-freakin’-ray." Joe rolled his eyes.

As they walked down the trail (avoiding actual nature of course) Orel did most of the talking. “...And then we make s’mores! Scoutmaster says they're called s’mores, ‘cuz we always make an extra one for Jesus in case he rises in Moralton when we're camping and wants a snack! Some more for our Lord !” He started panting, wearing himself out. “Then we listen to a real spooky story,” Added Doughy. “Like The Villainous Vegan, Attack of the Atheists, and even Catherine becomes a Catholic!” Orel shuddered. “I almost forgot that one, I didn't sleep for weeks!” They shared a laugh, and Joe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I bet. Let's race to the campsite the rest of the way!” Joe bolted, leaving Doughy and Orel totally alone. Out of impulse, Doughy hugged his best friend. “What was that for?” Orel was confused but happy. “I think we both needed it. Now we can be adults together tomorrow! I just really needed niceness, Orel. I feel God's love, but sometimes I want human touch.”

“I know what you mean.” He side-hugged him back. “That was nice. You're a great friend, Doughy. Now, to the campsite because no adults are supervising us right now!”

“Let’s try getting even closer to Jesus!” They high-fived and ran eagerly like the spirited scouts they were. Doughy wasn't quite as fast as Orel, lagging behind him just a tiny bit. He felt different. Happy in a new way. He didn't want either hug to end, and he didn't want to leave Orel's side at all. The way his best friend laughed, as a matter of fact, made his face flush, and seeing his smile on the sunlit path made his heart flutter. A new level of feeling Christianity maybe? He hoped so. It certainly felt good enough. He brushed it off and they giggled all the way to the campsite, a third of a mile from the parking lot. Very responsible and child-friendly of the Scout Council.

“Okay, boys!” Mr. Carvedson gathered them all in a circle for lunch. Joe sat far away from everyone, arms crossed. “Pizza’s up, scouts!” Everyone including Joe jumped up for the table. “No, there’s enough for every- Joseph, no biting! Tommy, why do you look skeptical? Is it a mental illness thing?” Tommy rolled his eyes, adjusted to the ableism of almost everyone Moralton at this point. “I just- what does pizza hafta do with the outdoors? Why do you have a portable microwave? It seems a little… unauthentic.”

“Darn it, Tommy,” Said the redhead boy. “We like pizza, why are you always questioning stuff?”

“He’s right, son,” Agreed Mr. Carvedson. “Didn’t you learn anything at church?"

“Well- to be honest-”

“Look, Tommy, learn to hunt, fish, farm, be productive on your own time. You like pizza, don’t you?”

“I guess, but-”

“Of course you do! Everyone does, especially Billy being Italian and all!” Billy shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m actually lactose into-”

“See? He loves it! No stop hurting your friends with your selfish questioning and making a spectacle!” Everyone was staring at Mr. Carvedson, on the brink of a meltdown, and Tommy, who was cool and collected, if not a bit confused. He shrugged and took a paper plate. Orel went over to console Tommy. Doughy, stressed from the meltdown, was more confused than ever. He still felt elated from before. He couldn’t stop staring at Orel. He was fixated but happy.

That night, they all sat around the pseudo fire. “Alright, you boys ready for s’mores?!” That was a resounding yes. “Now, who’s gonna get the privilege of making the extra for Jesus?” All hands other than Joe and Tommy’s (who was reading Richard Dawkins in secret) shot up. “Mm. Eager, huh?” He looked around. “Hmm. Can’t be Tommy Littler.” He said in a condescending voice, “He’s punished.” Tommy didn’t even flinch, discreetly turning a page. It’s like my pals in class say; if I ignore the stupidity, it can’t justify hurting me. Mr. Carvedson beamed. “Ah! How about our newcomer, Joseph Secondopinionson?” Joe shot back at him with a look of pure disbelief and boredom. “Heh, you’re as stupid as camping itself! Why would I wanna-” He cut himself off as an evil thought dawned on him. “Sure, Scoutmaster, I’d love to!” Only an average Moralton adult could miss the malice his tone was laced with as he walked over to the s’more makings. “No fair!” Whined Billy. “He’s just gonna eat it!” The other boys seemed to agree, and Mr. Carvedson hushed them. “Okay, I'll have someone supervise him! I can't do it ‘cuz I hafta keep the fire going.”

“Good alibi for just being a bad supervisor,” Muttered Tommy. “Orel! You're trustworthy! Care to come up and help Joe and I make a s'more for the lord?”

“You bet, Mr. Carvedson!” He hopped up, Joe grumbling because his plan was foiled. “Stupid Orel making a s’more that oughta be mine, stupid Jesus snack,” He whispered, kicking a rock. Doughy couldn't pay attention. Something about Orel glowing in the fake fire was dazzling to him. He felt something he'd genuinely never felt and couldn't stop a smile from creeping up his face. Unfortunately, another crisis occured. “Mr. Carvedson, a cricket! I hear a cricket!” Yelled one of the campers. “Oh, boy! I hear it too!” Mr. Carvedson panicked. “Someone pass me the insecticide! It’s Nozone brand! Darn it, I knew summer would be a bad time to go camping, there's a high chance of real wildlife!” Everyone other than Tommy scrambled.

Chapter Text

10 PM

All scouts were asleep, except a certain three.

Doughy, still figuring out his feelings… and scared out of his mind after Mr. Carvedson's chilling thriller, a book that has been left out and was taunting Doughy by staring him in the eyes. He pulled his SuperGod sleeping bag over his face, but it was no use. Vivian the Vaccinator was burned in his brain and he was too nervous to pick it up and move it, scared of his peer’s judgements. 

Tommy continued to read A Devil's Chaplain, using the opportunity of everyone being asleep to take that ableist helmet off, happier than he'd been all day. 

And of course, Joe. He was tired but wanted to be rebellious. “Hey! Tommy and Doughy, you're up too?”

“Heck yeah!” Tommy looked up. “Everyone else's sleeping time is the only time I'll get any peace this stupid weekend.”

“I, uh, plain can't sleep,” Doughy answered, hoping no one pried any more. “Hey, what's all this ruckus?” The redhead boy yawned. “You too?” Joe smiled. “Let's do somethin’ fun!”

“I'm in.” Tommy closed his book. “This trip is such a bummer.” 

“Boy, lookit Tommy, bein’ one ‘a the better kids! You're alright, Littler!” They high-fived. “Okay, what'd you have in mind?” Doughy was in too. “Something fun, Doughy! Duh!”

“Uh-oh, I bet that means something bad knowing you, Joe.” The redhead boy looked concerned. “Uh, doy! What else is there, especially on this stupid campsite in the stupid woods?” He looked around thoughtfully and smiled wickedly. “Let's prank Orel!”

“What?!” Doughy clenched his sleeping bag, devastated by that idea. “I dunno, I feel like he wouldn't respond well to that,” Agreed Tommy. Joe scoffed. “C’mon, Tommy, you're s’pposed to be the cool one! It'll be harmless. Put toothpaste on his stupid boots, put shaving cream in hand and tickle his nose, hide his bible-”

“No way,” Interrupted the redhead boy. “That's too far, Joe.”

“Ugh! Boring! I'm gonna go fer a walk now. In real nature! Nuh!” He stuck his tongue out. Tommy stepped out of his sleeping bag. “Y’know what? Lead the way. I don't care if we get in trouble, real wildlife’s gotta be better than this.” 

“Heh heh! Yeah, Tommy!” The redhead boy shrugged. “Yeah, why not? I'm in too.”

“Alright!” Joe then turned his attention to Doughy. “Well, Doughy? You comin’ or are you chicken?” He looked at them, eyes wide. He knew this is wrong and there would be consequences if they got caught, but he'd grown quite a reputation as a camper, being both a goody-goody but also a wimp. He didn't want to break any rules, but the copy of Vivian the Vaccinator caught his view again and made him gulp. “Well, I, uh…”

They walked about a thousand feet before reaching a plastic barrier which read CAUTION! REAL NATURE BEYOND THIS POINT! Joe laughed rudely. “Stupid sign, shuddup!” 

“Is that a tarp?” Tommy raised an eyebrow. “That's supposed to keep us out? That's pathetic.” 

“I'll say, Tommy,” Agreed the redhead boy. “B-but it's there fer a reason, right?” Doughy was visibly shaking. “Don't be such a wuss, Latchkey,” Joe rolled his eyes. “Tommy, help me with the tarp.” 

“Can I help, Joe and Tommy?” Asked the redhead boy. “Yeah,” Answered Joe, not turning around. “Make sure Doughy doesn't cry and rat on us! Heheheh!”

A simultaneous “whoa!” from everyone was the last sound anyone made for a bit. Doughy relaxed upon seeing the moonlit path, hearing crickets and peep frogs, spotting an occasional lightning bug. In fact, the others, Joe included, were all struck by the beauty none of them had witnessed before. 

“Let's find more,” Joe said dreamily, but then immediately caught himself. “Uh, you know, to stick it to the stupid counselor! Nuh!”

“Uh, yeah, totally, Joe,” agreed Tommy. “C’mon, Doughy, Joe.”

Just as they all started to take off, they heard rustling. Doughy jumped. “Ha, you're afraid.” Joe's delivery was reluctant but he was desperate to mask his own anxiety. “So’re you,” Tommy whispered fiercely. “Wait,” Whispered the redhead boy. “This might be good!”

“Good?!” Tommy shot him a furious stare. “Yeah, Tommy!” Then he said in his normal speaking voice, “Jesus, if it's finally you coming to us, say so!”

“Huh! I wish! Oh boy, maybe he's behind me!” They all smiled with relief upon hearing Orel. “Aw, drat. No Jesus.” He ran up to them. “I expect this from you, Joe, but what are you guys doing here?!” He frowned. “Orel, we just wanted to beef up a boring trip,” Defended Tommy. “'Boring?!'” Orel put his hands on his hips. “Oh boy, time fer another God lecture from Orel.” Joe threw his arms up in frustration. “Guys, Mr. Carvedson planned this! Plus, with God and Jesus, boredom doesn't exist! Now come with me now and I won't tell…” He continued, but Doughy had a funny feeling again. Orel absolutely glowed in the moonlight, making it impossible for Doughy not to stare. Yet, he couldn't pay any attention. This feeling is starting to feel wrong…

He lay awake that night, hours after everyone else was out cold. Joe's snoring and sleep-talking was of no help. “You're not my mom, Orel…” He kicked Tommy in the face, who slept through it. To make matters worse, Orel rolled over in his sleep, his head resting on Doughy’s pillow as he swallowed hard and turned pink. Definitely wrong.

Needless to say, that morning he looked absolutely miserable as Mr. Carvedson explained white water rafting to the scouts. “You okay, Doughy?” Whispered Tommy, who was doubled in safety jackets. “Yeah. Just really tired. Thanks, Tommy,” He answered softly, barely awake. “Shhh! No talking over the adult,” Orel whispered harshly, the noise making Doughy flinch. “Sorry, Orel,” They replied in unison, though Tommy with sarcasm and an eye roll.

“Okay, lastly, you wanna remember this!” The scoutmaster pointed to a whiteboard he had on him he had used throughout his presentation. “Discuss with God, Remember to pray, Overt your faith, Will yourself, Need Jesus! Or, DROWN! Oh. Oh, boy.” Tommy snickered. “Something funny, Mr. Littler?” His embarrassment had whittled his patience to nothing. “Besides the acronym? There's not a thing on there about what we should actually do to keep safe!” Joe joined him in a laugh. Orel looked annoyed. “Stop, you guys!”

“Thanks, Orel, but I've got this.” Mr. Carvedson walked up. “You and Joe will not be together in this watersport.” They both admittedly looked disappointed, although Joe giggled at “watersport.”

Tommy was admittedly having fun with Billy and the redhead boy, however Joe was less than happy, because no surprise, he was teamed with “the two most pious of scouts.” That is until he realized he could splash Orel with the paddle and when he lied that it was an accident, Orel believed him every. Single. Time. Doughy was impaired by exhaustion but still did his part. “Hey Doughy, thirsty?” Joe leaned over to the other side of the raft to splash Doughy. “Yikes!” He jumped. “Joe! Stay in the middle! Don't nudge me, I don't wanna fall off!”

“What the matter, wuss, can't you swim?”

“N-no,” He admitted shamefully. “Stop it, Joe,” Orel grunted, doing all the work. “Oh my gosh!” Joe laughed and resumed paddling. “Lemme teach you!” He shoved Doughy out of the boat, who screamed. “Joe!” Orel dropped his paddles. “I-I don't see ‘im!” His eyes welled as he searched frantically for his friend.

“What's the matter?” Mr. Carvedson came around the bend. “Heheheh. Doughy had a spill!” Joe laughed at his own joke. Orel, however, was crying. “Joe pushed Doughy, and Doughy’s drowning!” 

“Uh…” The Mr. Carvedson panicked. “Gee, I wish I knew how to swim…” He groaned through his teeth. 

Meanwhile, the current has Doughy in its clutches, an undertow making him its plaything. The world went black…

Soon enough, he felt the sun on his face. “God?...” He muttered. “No, it's me! Oh, you're okay!” He recognized that voice. And that hug that was being given to him. His eyes opened, and Orel, also soaked, pushed him back and stared at him with overjoyed, teary eyes as he giggled with relief. “Did you… save me?...” Doughy sat up, too weak to cry. “Y-yeah, Doughy! I had no choice, you're my best friend and I'm so happy you're okay!”

“You're also in big trouble, Orel!” Mr. Carvedson stormed up to them. “You disobeyed me!”

“But he saved my life!” Doughy flopped into Orel's arms, looking up at his lifesaver’s face. 

He has an idea of what this feeling was.

Chapter Text

“Alright, tell me what happened now!” Mr. Carvedson was so upset, he was audible well outside the ranger’s office, not caring that every camper was eavesdropping shamelessly on Orel, Doughy and Joe.

“J-Joe pushed me, knowing I can't swim!” Doughy curled up and cried. “And Orel saved my life!”

“Aw, Doughy, I jumped in the water, but only ‘cuz God willed me to! He's the hero!”

“Oh, brother!” Joe pinched the bridge of his nose. “Enough out of you, Joe!” Orel stared daggers at him. “I bet God's mad at you!”

“He is, but you're just as guilty, Orel!” Mr. Carvedson pointed an accusatory finger at Orel, who was stunned. “Me?!”

“Him?!” Doughy and Joe were just as shocked. “Yes, Orel! Doughy, you were unconscious, let me fill you in on Orel's sinning!”

18 minutes ago…

“I’ll get ‘im myself!” Orel sobbed and threw his paddle down. “I'm coming, Doughy!”

“Orel, no! It's dangerous! I'll pull my raft over and call a ranger! You boys stay here and pray!” Orel bit his lip and bounced uncomfortably, knowing that would take too much time. Of course he had faith in the "Lord,"  but his best friend's life was in the balance… “No! I can swim!”

“Orel, that's a liability! Your parents might sue- I mean, I want you safe.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Carvedson. I have to.” His voice cracked and his fists clenched as he jumped in. “Orel!” Mr. Carvedson was livid. “Yer’ tellin’ me!” Griped Joe. “He splashed me! Stupid river…”

And now…

“...I carried him to shore and we're okay!” Orel defended, his tone slightly annoyed. “I had no choice!” Tears welled in his eyes again and in a soft, pleading tone he cracked, “Please.” 

“Orel, you're a real hero!” Doughy felt overwhelmed, thinking he didn't deserve such kindness. He turned to Mr. Carvedson. “Please, Scoutmaster, don't you geddit? God persevered through Orel and made him a superhero!”

“‘God?’ That was Satan, boys!” They both gulped. “How so, Carter er whatever?” Joe's sarcasm and desire to get his friends in deeper trouble went over everyone's head. “Kids, since when does God ask you to disobey your elders? I’m a male Christian adult, so I'm most appointed and qualified. You disobeyed an order from me, an authority figure!” His intense eye contact made Doughy squirm. “Does that sound like something that our Lord would approve of?” Orel and Doughy looked down, not knowing a better argument. It had indeed been enforced in them by the church to always respect an elder, no matter what. Joe continued to egg the drama on. “Boy, Scoutmaster, doesn't God hate kids who disobey more than anything?” Doughy and Orel looked even more distraught. “Well, I wouldn't say that, Joe,” Mr. Carvedson explained. “It's not like they took the Lord's name in vain, are vegetarians, skipped church or broke a commandment!” He shuddered. “But God doesn't like this one bit! He may not hate it the most, but it's in His top ten!”

Meanwhile outside, most of the campers stood in horror as Tommy snickered. 

“Now Mr. Secondopinionson, punishment is in order. The best I could think is that you stay the duration of the trip under my eye. You aren’t going home today!”

“No!” Joe folded his arms and looked down in frustration. “Stupid camp! Nuh!” 

“Mr. Latchkey and Mr. Puppington, you’re the ones going home!”

“But we’ve never gone home early, let alone gotten kicked out!” Sobbed Doughy. “I’ve stuck out Pious trips with the flu!” Agreed Orel. “Too bad!” Snapped Mr. Carvedson. “Joe, you’re coming with me. Satan’s troublemakers, you wait here ‘til your parents come to pick you up! I’ve called them.”

“You’re just gonna leave us here?!” Orel cried. Mr. Carvedson scoffed. “It’ll only be a few minutes! We’re understaffed, okay?! C’mon, Joseph.” He grabbed Joe by the arm. As they walked out the door, Joe made eye contact with Orel and Doughy, a look that actually screamed I’m sorry.

As soon as they were gone and out of earshot, Doughy pried a bit more. “You're not mad I made you sin, are you, Orel?”

“You didn't, I did. I'm still glad I did it and… you're my best friend, Doughy. I’d do it for you again.” He made eye contact and smiled with him. Doughy’s heart fluttered. “Thanks, Orel. Say, can I ask you something?”

“Sure!”

“It's about Christina.” Orel looked skeptical, not able to take any Christina-bashing, which he still heard at home. “What about ‘er?...”

“N-nothing bad! It's just… the way you talk about her makes you so happy. How do you feel though? I think I might like someone but I dunno! It's so confusing!” He curled up and buried his face. “It’s okay, Doughy! You don’t hafta tell me who it is! But I thought you liked Miss Sculptham?”

“This is different. Also, I don’t think I ever really liked her that way. I just thought she cared when she called me ‘son,’ and I confused it for a crush. What’s going on with me?” He poked his head up, slightly more comfortable. “But tell me how you feel around Christina!” Orel giggled. “Christina… okay. Well, my heart beats, but I feel relaxed. I laugh a lot. In fact, I can’t stop smiling!” Seeing Orel this happy, neither could Doughy despite everything. “Christina’s also real funny, she…”

Meanwhile, Bloberta and Karl were chatting with Mr. Carvedson, who handed them two duffle bag full of their kid’s stuff. “Gracious!” Bloberta shook her head in disbelief. “What will that boy do next? I swear…”

“Don't beat yerself up, Bloberta.” Karl patted her shoulder. “It was my dumb, fat idiot who couldn't swim. Your boy only did what was right. Well, what ‘e thought was right.”

“Thanks, Karl. You make a good point.”

“Let's compromise and agree both are kids are stupid and need to be punished!”

“Deal!” 

“...And everything just feels so much more calm and serene. Like I can feel God's love even more!” Orel fell back into his chair. “That's what I feel anyway, Doughy. What about you?” Doughy blinked in response, Orel glowing in a melodramatic golden light, smiling that Orel smile. Yes, his poetry about his feelings for Christina fit him to a tee as his heart fluttered again, then immediately sunk. He was a homosexual. Ooh, the word made him sick, which didn't help when Karl and Bloberta walked in with their duffle bags, looking disgruntled. “Orel Puppington!” Bloberta barked. “How many times have I told you to only pack a maximum of three bibles?! This silly bag is heavier than the cross of Jesus’ back!”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“I’ll help, Mrs. Puppington!” Doughy was polite, even at his most distressed. “Ha!” Karl’s cruel laughter could have shattered glass. “You can't even swim, fat sissy boy! You think you can lift that?” Bloberta joined him in laughing at that. Orel gave Doughy a look of support, which was all he needed.

That night entered his house, exhausted. Karl and Kim were tonguing on the couch as always. “Ew! Karl, it's back!” 

“It's okay, Ma. I'm going straight to bed. I need to, I'm exhausted.” He slumped up the stairs and brushed his teeth. 

He turned off his light and was about to pray when Kim came walking in. “Hey, you got any lube?”

“Any what? No, I don't think so. But can I ask you something?”

“Ugh. Fine. You have ‘til your dad does find extra lube.”

“Mom… how do you feel when you're around Dad? Like, romantically?”

“Aw, you in love? Gross. Who is she? Y’know what, I don't care. Your daddy though?” She purred. “He makes my loins burn! Like-” 

Doughy didn't understand a word she told him, but her facial expressions were enough to make him feel horrified. “...So horny!” He didn't know what that meant, but now he had to pray for two reasons. “His bulge…” His face twisted to sheer terror, not that she seemed to care. He looked up at the strawberry blond Jesus statue on his bedside and mouthed, “I'm so sorry!”

After a long apology in his prayer, he concluded with what he'd desperately been putting off: his sexuality. “I love Orel, but homosexuality is evil, the bible says so! Just like how slaves hafta be obedient to their owners. Please, I don't wanna go to Hell. Give me a girl crush and get this sin outta my head! I can't handle any more trouble in my life! Please help, lord. Let me wake up pure tomorrow. Amen.”

He turned off his light and hoped for the best. Luckily after his one night bout of insomnia and all the… excitement, Doughy slept like a rock.

Chapter Text

He woke up, still “impure.” Tears welled in his eyes immediately. He was so stricken with confusion on where he went wrong, it bound him to the bed, arms and legs temporarily useless as fear creased him down. Then it occurred to him: “Reverend Putty.” The answer was so simple. Still with hesitation, he hopped out of bed.

Grabbing his bag from the coat rack, he went to bolt out the door. “Hold it, speedy!” Karl’s shrill voice cut right through him. Did he know?! “You fergot yer money, Doughball! Your mom and I ain’t makin’ you breakfast, there are only two eggs left.”

“Thanks, Pop, but no time!” He ran out the door. Karl shrugged. 

He ran into the church, not having stopped for a breath. Unfortunately, also waiting for confession: “Hi, Doughy! Wanna talk about our favorite psalms while we wait for Reverend Putty?” Doughy’s face turned pink. “S-sure, Orel! Who do you think is in there? Boy, there’s nothing Reverend Putty can’t fix! He’s so pious!”

“I really did it, Reverend! I-I got the divorce papers, Millie was distraught! Darn it, this guilt! I still feel it!”  

“That would explain why she got all mad when I put the Putty moves on ‘er last week. I thought that chickie was just on ‘er period.”

“That’s my wife, Reverend! My soon-to-be ex-wife! Oh dear lord…” 

“Maybe Millie ain’t on the rag, but you seem to be, Fakey! You’re a principal, man up! These snot-nosed punks’ll do a number on you if you’re this puffy in three months come school! Now be a real man and tell me about what’s around the bend, if ya know what I mean? ‘Bend,’ as in a certain sexy, blond trinket who’ll do anything-”

“You’re not supposed to ask, Doughy!” Orel wagged his finger. “Sorry, Orel.” Doughy looked down, making Orel feel guilt of his own immediately. “But yer’ right, Reverend Putty is the most pious man in Moralton!” Doughy smiled softly. “I can practically see God talking through him on Sundays! At least with us getting kicked off the trip, you and I will be the only kids here tomorrow, Orel! We'll have him all to ourselves!”

“You bet! Jesus does make everything happen for a reason, after all!” This was the least tense Doughy had been in the last twenty hours. Maybe everything would be okay…

After a very lengthy (and apparently unsuccessful) confessional with Principal Fakey, it was Orel's turn. “Doughy, I gotta go.”

“Aw, I love when we talk about our favorite bible verses!”

“Me too! Say, after we've both confessed, want me to wait for you outside the church so we can play?”

“Sure, Orel! And good luck!” Alone now and realizing how much he loved the conversation, and how much his heart fluttered, forcing his smile into remission. Having a crush on another boy in church? “Stop it, Latchkey! You're making God mad!” He whispered. He fidgeted uncomfortably, not knowing how else to unwind. He really wanted this to go by fast so he could cure himself of what folks in Moralton had rebellious parades against in June: Anti-Baby Disease. He had it. A recent flashback washed over him.

Just last week…

Orel and Doughy were laughing as they exited Sal’s Corner Store, milkshakes in hand. “God always makes me say ‘gee,’ and he's in all of us! Do you think that's why Jesus is His son's name?” Orel was very proud of his theory. “Gosh, Orel, no kid on earth understands Christianity as good as you! I bet that's exactly right!”

“Wow. I decoded God!” He twirled happily, but was confused when he turned around and saw a good portion of the road being cut off by partitions. “Say, what's this fuss for?” Doughy put a hand on his hip. “Moralton Parade for Anti-Baby Disease, son. Happens every June,” Answered the construction worker putting up the partition, unsurprisingly a cis white man. “Is it for people who can't have babies, Mr. Closetcase?” 

“No, Doughy,” Chuckled Mr. Closetcase warmly. “It's to protest a disgusting, unholy, godless, hateful way of life! Us adults here in Moralton view this group of people as mentally ill.”

“So why have a parade for it?” Orel raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn't we be helping those people instead of celebrating?”

“We're not really celebrating per se, Orel. This isn't some hoity toity illness that entitled people too stupid to pray go to the hospital for, like ‘cancer,’ ‘heart disease,’ or ‘schizophrenia,’ have you. Those of us who truly see the Lord like you boys and I do turn to prayer for help. But these people don't even think they're ill, so what better way to express our deepest sympathies than picketing, invading their private lives, and screaming at them in the streets while we have pious parade floats going by?”

“Uh…” Too many words too fast for Doughy, who was still attempting to process all of it. Orel had to process it too, but caught on faster. Nothing about Christianity went over his head for too long, regardless of how lengthy and incoherent (not unlike Christianity itself.) “Wull… what is this mental illness, Mr. Closetcase? Maybe we can help!”

“Yeah,” Agreed Doughy. “We love helping people, especially in the name of the Lord!”

“Aw, boys. That's real sweet of you, but this is a mental illness so repulsive and perverse, your young minds aren't ready to hear about it. Adults here only, I'm afraid. It's something you hafta discuss with yer parents.”

“Really?!” Doughy put his hands to his lips in horror. “Yes,” Mr. Closetcase replied calmly. “There are some real sickos out there, kids. Now tell me, where are you in your bible essays for Reverend Putty?” Orel beamed. “Oh! I'm at the bloody crucifixion of Christ. Y’know, the crown of thorns digging into his forehead which is dwarfed by the whips on his back, leaving awful marks as the Jews screamed death wishes at him!”

“And I'm on how his best friend Mary was a whore, whatever that means!” Chimed Doughy. “Good! You do your religion so proud, you'll never fall prey to this illness, but rather pray it away!” Mr. Closetcase laughed heartily at his own joke. “See ya later, boys- he-llooooo…” 

“Mr. Closetcase, are you okay?” Orel had never seen this facial expression before. “Hey, folks,” Came the voice of Danielle, making Orel and Doughy whip their heads around. There was their trusted gym coach, in a very skimpy God Bless America tank top. “Hi, Coach Stopframe!” The boys rang in unison, oblivious. “Hi, beanie kid, uh, Doughy. Hi, boy I hope takes after his daddy's looks for the sake of sexiness, or Orel, as they call you.”

“Are you here for the parade too, Coach?” Orel remained oblivious. “Uh-huh, yeah. Say Orel, is that father of yours gonna be there?” As he spoke he pulled a lollipop out of his short pocket, unwrapped it and put it seductively in his mouth, making Mr. Closetcase’s face turn red as he smiled, mouth agape. “Uh… my parents haven't said anything, but both my mom and dad are really active in the community, especially when it comes to church stuff, so I bet they will be!” Danielle took the candy out of his mouth slowly. “Sublime. Thanks, Orel.” 

“And I'm sure mine will too, they're real active in the chu-”

“Yeah yeah, that's nice, Doughy. Well, ta-ta, I'm off to ‘do the Lord's work.’ Heh heh. Do hope for your father, Orel, nothing excites people like a parade, heh heh heh.” He walked off, hips swaying. “Oh no! Orel, Mr. Closetcase fainted!”

“Doughy, are you alright?” Orel's voice brought him into the present as he exited the confessional. “Uh… yeah!”

“Okay! Well, you're up. I'll wait for you outside the church, okay?”

“Heck yeah!”

“Oh, another one? Papa needs another cup ‘a coffee,” Rod grumbled through his teeth. “Uh, Reverend? Are you there?”

“Great, now I gotta listen to that stupid camp story again…” He cleared his throat and continued in his speaking voice: “Yes, Doughy?”

“H-how’d you know it was me?” 

‘Cuz your annoying voice is impossible not to recognize. “I know all my regular churchgoers, son!”

“Wow. You're brilliant!” Rod eased up now that his ego had gotten its own cup of coffee. “Well, thanks, Doughy, and God bless! Now what's up?” He added under his breath, “As if I don't already know…”

“I, uh, made a discovery. I'm scared, Reverend Putty.”

“Huh. About the bleakness of adulthood? You and me both, brother.”

“Um… no.”

“Oh. In that case ferget I said anything.”

“I-I-”

“I-I-I'm on the clock here, Latchkey, now out with it!” He mocked, then raised his eyebrows when he heard Doughy stifle a sob. “It's too embarrassing! God’ll be mad if I even mention it!” He wiped his eyes, and Rod felt bad immediately and realized he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of this boy, so he pondered for a second. Oh. He shook his head in disbelief. He must've tried masturbating! Why can't these kids go to their dang fathers, for heck’s sake?! He smacked his forehead and decided for some reason it would be wise to avoid continue using terminology altogether. “I got you, Doughy. I understand.”

“You do?” Somehow this made him feel worse. Exposed, open. The first person besides himself, God and Jesus to know of his “mental illness.” He swallowed hard and started bouncing his leg. “Yeah. I do. And Doughy?”

“Yeah?” Rod’s soft tone put him at ease for a split second. “Stay the heck away from it, kid!”

“Huh?!”

“Didn’t you learn anything from when your best pal had the same dilemma?! I swear, you churchgoers of mine claim to be so pious, but my sermons are in one ear and out the other with you! IIII mean, don’t go through what Orel did!”

“Orel?...” Oh. He must be talking about his relationship with Christina! His eyes welled yet again. “But-but why avoid something I love?”

“Ya met Christianity, kid? And ‘love?’ Jeez, you’re thirstier than your principal and that Coach Stopframe combined.”

“Well, I imagine their jobs do dehydrate them.” Doughy doesn’t know what ‘thirsty’ means. “Oh, boy. Look, Doughy. It’s tough, believe you me, I understand. Uh, not that I relate!” He couldn’t sound pathetic in front of anyone, not even a kid. “But Reverend, can’t I force my feelings down for eternity and just not bring them up, but still-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, you had it down pat ‘til you said ‘but still.’ No cutting corners, Doughy. God didn’t cut corners in creating humans. Well, not the white ones anyway, and neither will you in such a repulsive act.” Doughy didn’t know what ‘repulsive’ meant but it made him sweat. “The thing that’s ailing you? Stay away from it and it will go away on its own. That is, if you really are Christian!” His eyes went wide upon hearing Doughy start to weep. “I am a Christian! I go to church even when I’m real sick, and I never even leave early even when it’s too loud or my head hurts or I’m next to Orel’s brother and he kicks me in the rib cage!”

“I mean, you did get up to go to the bathroom once in the middle of one of my sermons.”

“I was six and my nose was bleeding from allergies! Oh, but you’re right, I never prayed for forgiveness! God must hate me! I’m gonna go home and pray until I’m normal! I gotta go, Reverend! I’ll see you Sunday!” His weeps turned into sobs as he ran out of the confessional. Rod bit his lip. Since bonding with his child, he’d changed unknowingly, his sense of sympathy ever so slowly increasing. This is your fault, you made that kid cry. He stood up and went to go after him. “Wait, Doughy-” But then he saw someone else waiting for confessional. “Ooh, Agnes! He-llo!” His pitiful nature shined bright. Agnes raised an eyebrow. “Why did I see my boss leave here crying like a baby minutes ago, and now one of my students?”

Orel sat in the grass, playing a biblical game with the rocks. “Okay, rock, you're our Lord and savior, and this twig’ll be Judas!” He stopped when Doughy trudged out of the church. Orel was definitely not the best at reading the room or picking up social cues, but he knew when his best friend was down. Boy, Doughy looks drained! Maybe playing church at the park will make him happy, it always does! “Ready to go play, Doughy?” He got to his feet. Doughy stopped, and his anxiety ceased upon seeing Orel under an oak tree, a warm smile on his face and the sun lighting his hair. He really is my best friend! Unfortunately, just as Clay’s angry face stopped Orel's joy with Christina, Rod's stopped Doughy’s own crush. Stay away from it! It was finally registering; he couldn't even be friends with Orel as long as he was plagued. The thought made his heart collapse. “Doughy?!” Orel ran up to him. “What's the matter?!” Doughy took Orel's hand, confusing him farther. “Orel, for scary reasons, and for going to the bathroom in church once, God made me sick. Until I'm better…” He couldn't not cry, “I can't be near you! It's not your fault, please don't be mad at yourself! Be mad at me, I'm an abomination!” He couldn't control the urge before running off.

He kissed Orel on the cheek, and ran home without looking back.

Chapter Text

Doughy's depression was unbearable, and the anxiety worse. It hurt to pry himself out of bed. He barely could that day. In fact, kissing Orel was at the back of his mind. Being an alleged baby-hater. Having a crush on his best friend and confidant, leaving not a person in Moralton he trusted enough to talk to about this all. Having to avoid my best friend. He was so overrun with confusing emotions, all negative, he couldn't function or cry. 

The next morning church time rolled around. Now he cried as he straightened his tie. How was it fair this all happened on the one weekend him and Orel were the only kids their age in church? Darn it, this was church. The Lord would never make him think impure thoughts there! Right?... Either way, he grinned and rushed his parents to the car.

As per usual, Orel was dragging his parents by the hand. “Okay, son,” Bloberta chuckled to hide her transparent annoyance. “Your inability to sit still anywhere but church is making people look.”

“Yeah, point out ‘is shortcomings, that'll help,” Clay muttered loud enough for her to hear, taking one last nip from his flask as she glared. 

Doughy was ecstatic. As long as he was in church (and God wasn't a grudge-holder,) Orel and him were in the clear. “Orel!” He ran over. “Great news! I can be with you in church! Nothing bad ever happened in a protestant church, right?”

“Oh, uh, right!” Orel was just as thrilled. “And I know you can't tell me what's wrong, Doughy, but we'll still be friends, right?”

“We'll play SuperGod the second I'm better!” They high-fived, Doughy dying to kiss Orel's cheek again, Orel fighting to not ask Doughy why he did yesterday. “What do you suppose is happening?” Bloberta asked Clay quietly. “As long as he's not contagious, who cares?” Block screamed with impatience, pushing the group into church. Doughy took a deep breath. I trust you, God.

Rod stood at his podium, happy to see his church filled. This'll screw up the next lot of lonely Friday depression! He smiled smugly and looked up just in time to see the Puppington family walk in alongside the Latchkeys. He thought little of it until he heard Doughy amidst the crowd: “I'm gonna sit with the Puppingtons during church fer a while, but I still love you, Mom and Dad!”

“Don't care,” Kim sneered, walking to a different pew, making Karl crack up. Reverend Putty hadn't known much of the Latchkeys, but that cruelty paired with Doughy’s visible disappointment was enough to even make him uncomfortable. “Yikes,” He whispered. He couldn't help looking at Doughy and Orel sitting next to each other, thrilled. Not just happy-to-be-at-church thrilled either, there was some relief mixed in. Maybe I didn't contribute to Doughy’s trauma. Well, ol’ Revs ain't got nothin’ to feel guilty about! You're welcome, God!

“Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles… girlfriends, boyfriends…” Everyone in the church looked confused by this rambling, other than the ever-riveted Doughy and Orel. “...Husbands, wives, ladies, gentlemen, women, boys, grandmothers, grandfathers, men, girls…” He finally paused. “Someone likes the sound of his own voice,” Bloberta giggled to Clay, Revs shooting a glare at both of them that made them quiet for the rest of the sermon. “If you wonder why I’m using every gendered noun I can, it relates to Moralton’s Anti-Baby Awareness mission."

“Ohhhh,” Everyone understood. 

Though the sermon was now turned to Moralton’s extreme (if not unsurprising) transphobia, upon hearing “anti-baby,” Doughy’s mouth went dry, and he couldn’t pay attention even though he tried. The ringing in his ears was too loud, not to mention the intrusive thoughts, a new addition to his anxiety. Sinner!

Freak!

Homosexual!

Blasphemer! 

They came in louder, all yelling at once. He completely lost track of what these voices were saying to him, but they all had the same message that he was sick and in the wrong. 

“I mean, first ya got men who wanna be women, which, what the heck? God already gave you your genitals, which determine your pronouns and gender, when you were livin’ it up rent free in Mommy’s womb, lounging and growing!” Dottie nodded along.

“God made that possible for you, and the doctor who delivered you or yer younguns confirmed it!” Doctor Potterswheel grinned. "Are you really gonna dispel that later on because ‘you and only should decide who you are’ and ‘human psychology is more complex than that?’”

Orel had no idea what this was about, but shook his head because he had to be obedient. “And then there are the gals who wanna be men… uh, ladies! Hello! All you gotta do is cook, clean, be obedient to men and have babies. Pretty easy, right? You wanna give up that oh-so-easy life because it’ll make you ‘happy in your own skin?’ C’mon!”

Doughy still unsuccessfully pushed his intrusive thoughts away. What made it seemingly impossible was that he was taking the sermon the wrong way in two scenarios. Not only did he think it was about homosexuality, but he also thought said sermon was about him. I thought Reverend Putty was my friend, and confessional was s’pposed to be private! How could he be so cruel? But then it occurred to him he hadn't thought about his crush on Orel once. God was on this side, this sermon being His last punishment before setting him free. The voices and ringing stopped.

“And this ‘third gender‘ thing? Most people don't want to be a hermaph-”

Doughy's attention again was cut off, this time by Block kicking his thigh. “Bored! Move!Crowded!” Without a word, Orel picked up Block, making him scream, and put him at the end of the pew. “Yay, space!” He saw Clay's flask peeking out of his pants pocket. “Ooh, shiny!” With all the shifting, Orel and Doughy’s hands touched. Oh no, the feeling is back!

By the time Rod was finally through ranting about non-binary people, he caught Doughy in the corner of his eye. The child was doing everything in his power not to cry. He continued to “preach” with hesitation, not really sure what to do. First of all, he was the revs, baby, and he was on a roll! But also, he was beginning to sympathize with the fact that Doughy was a shy, sensitive kid unlike his friend, and would hate having any attention drawn to him.

After the sermon, Reverend as usual showed people out of the church, passive aggressively begging for praise. “Hey, Mrs. Puppington, wanna save your comedy routine for a standup night with Satan?” She rolled her eyes and scoffed. Right on schedule: “Reverend Putty?” Oh, boy. Commence agreement from doe-eyed tween. “Yes, Orel?”

“I don’t really know much of what you talked about, but I know I’ll agree when I’m older! Pop says words like ‘bigender’ and ‘lesbian’ are real bad.”

“They sure are, son. Great seeing you today. Say, tomorrow will ya come by my office and discuss your essay with me? I loved it.”

“You did?” He bounced with glee. “Yes. I love how you used terms like ‘rape of mankind’ to describe the death of Christ! Very apt! Anyway, see ya next week.” Orel’s vocal stims of excitement could be heard all the way to the car as he skipped. Clay and Bloberta’s embarrassment and desire to be anywhere else was just as clear as “Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy-”

“Doughy.” Rod’s voice took Doughy by surprise as he slumped out of the church, more miserable than ever. “May I talk to you? Uh, in my office for some privacy.” Now it was Doughy’s turn to gulp as he got beckoned into an adult’s quarters. “I’ll go tell my mom and dad,” He managed to squeak. “Please don’t hurt me,” He added, walking away. Rod was very confused but knew he wasn’t intended to hear that. It’d be addressed soon enough anyway.

Doughy tapped his feet while he waited for Rod, bouncing in his chair and sweating. He also noticed how forced his breathing had become. Another “bizarre” concept occurred to him in all the bluster. As much as he crushed on Orel, he couldn't imagine himself in a romantic relationship. Orel was amazing, but being committed to him or anyone full time was too much, and other than buying expensive gifts, he had no idea to even be romantic. I wanna be with Orel but I don't wanna be. What the heck is wrong with me?!

“Doughy.” Yet again, he was brought back into the moment by Rod saying his name. This time however, Doughy couldn't decide what was worse; the things he was simply imagining or how brutal his reality was, and was about to be. He turned around, forcing himself to be casual. “Ew! Kid, you're sweaty. Watch the chair, that's real leather! I mean, let's talk, Doughy.” As soon as Rod sat down, Doughy burst into tears for the umpteenth time against his own wishes. “Doughy! What the heck?!”

“Please don't hate me, Reverend!”

“O…Kay, let's discuss that when we get to it. But please, take a tissue and don't slobber on my stuff.” He held a tissue box on the table and hesitantly handed it to Doughy. “Thanks, Reverend.” He blew his nose, making Rod flinch and stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Look. Kid. I just wanna talk about your essay.”

“Oh no! Was it bad?”

“Well-” He cut himself off, not being able to contribute to the child's troubles after looking in his eyes. Eyes filled with fear, confusion and misery, something no one should endure, let alone such a sweet-natured kid. “No! Doughy, it's great! For a boy that seemingly doesn't know what whoring is, you sure are a wordsmith about it.” He smiled warmly, hopefully warmly enough. “Really?” Doughy’s shoulders were freed of being tense as his face went soft. “Yeah, you were as talented as Orel!” He offered Doughy another tissue. “It's just… your spelling is a bit off.”

“Oh my gosh!”

“Relax, it's okay. Don't stroke out,” He added under his breath. “You're very polite, but you seem to mix up your ps and qs. Ha! That's a good one. Better include that in a sermon.”

“So… what does it mean? Is it something that can be helped? I'm just glad this isn’t about… you know.”

“Ah. Have you been better?”

“I…”

“Aw, Doughy! Do you want to go to Hell!?”

“I’m trying, but I even had it happen during your sermon!” He started crying again. Rod looked furious for a second, then immediately confused. “Wait. I would’ve noticed you masturbating during one ‘a my sermons!” Doughy stopped crying and looked up. “I wasn’t- I-I never-”

“What ‘sinful thing’ were you doing that drew you to my confessional then? You said you were doing what Orel did!”

“Yeah… it's like what he had with Christina! I like someone I oughta not! Not Christina, but someone else.”

“Still better than masturbation. Who is it, son?” Doughy just stammered. “Geez, kid, are ya strokin' out? C’mon, can't be that bad. As long as she's white and protestant. Who is she?”

“It's Orel!” He blurted, needing to tell someone, anyone. “I like Orel as more than a friend!” Rod dropped his mug that read I love Sundays and choked on the coffee he was sipping. “I’m gay, Reverend Putty!”

Chapter Text

Rod couldn't believe it. Doughy was one of the most devout people in Moralton, how could this have happened? I guess even the best people fall into terrible danger without good parents. But why wouldn't God punish Karl and Kim, for that matter?!

Doughy couldn't believe what he'd done. He was definitely a sinner but maybe he could help his church just a bit.

“Reverend Putty? You'll never see me again, I promise. I'm so sorry I'm not a good Christian, but it's not your fault! I'll lock myself in my room and pray until I'm better. Thank you for all you do, and I'm real sorry. But even when I am normal I'll never pollute this church again, it has such a spotless reputation!” He ran out as fast as he could, refusing himself to look back.

In the intense heat and the heavy church clothes, he had to stop for a breath. I should shed all these clothes anyway. I’m sure not worthy of them anymore anyhow. He went to sit on a nearby bench, the stillness of his body realizing how overheated he really was. Before sitting he saw an advertisement on the bench: Erratic thoughts? Female hysteria? Prayers not working because even God Himself can’t fix your screwed-up head? TRY A LOBOTOMY AT YOUR LOCAL DOCTOR TODAY! “My prayers have been answered!” He jumped for joy. “Oh, boy! I’m gonna go get a loe-boe-toe-mye! Hot dog!" A family of three walking by stopped and stared. Doughy was of course oblivious. He was sure to say a prayer of thanks while kneeling on the bench before skipping to the hospital. 

He entered the hospital, where Nurse Bendy was painting her nails and eating chips. “Hi, Nurse Bendy!” Doughy greeted kindly. “Hi, Orel's friend with the hat,” She responded, not looking up. “You're not like, dying, right?”

“No… but I would like to be seen as soon as possible.” She scoffed and helped herself to another chip. “You and everyone else in here, buster. Now what's up?”

“I want a loe-bo- uh-”

“Oh, a loe-boe-toe-mye?” She asked loudly. “Yeah, that should be okay. You're like, twenty, right?”

“Yes!” Sorry for lying, God! But it's an emergency!

“Okay, good. Fill out this stupid form and a doc’ll fix you up.”

Minutes before a doctor saw him, he started to realize the gravity of this situation. He thought of calling Orel before going under the knife, but that would be a sin. Doughy wasn't quite sure what a lobotomy entailed (let alone how to pronounce it,) but, I know it's surgery. I cry after shots. I'm scared of playing near flowers because I never want to get stung. Blood itself makes me faint. Was this really the best-

“Hi there! Oh, Doughy Latchkey! Good afternoon!”

“H-hi, Dr. Potterswheel!”

“Good to see ya, son. Here for a routine checkup, I assume?” He looked at his clipboard.

“Well, no, I-” He cut himself off upon looking at Dr. Potterswheel’s face. “Doughy! You want a lobotomy?”

“Yes, I'm sure of it!”

“Your body language says otherwise. Plus, you're twelve. What was that Nurse Bendy thinking?” He nudged Doughy, giggling. “Probably nothing, am I right?” He cracked himself up with that "joke." “Damn, I don't get women. I’d hate ‘em if their issues didn't pay for my vacation house though!” Doughy cleared his throat. “Look, I am a kid, but it's an emergency! I'm real sick, Doc, and praying isn't helping! Confession didn't help, my best friend, Reverend Putty, even being in a church…” He took a deep breath, refusing to cry anymore. “I'm at the end ‘a my rope, Doc. None of those people or things helped. Maybe God can't help either, but I'm not giving up ‘til I'm normal!”

“Maybe, as Moralton’s best doctor, I could figure something out for a fellow Christian. But it will be risky. I'll need a note from your parents for consent.”

“I have the Lord's consent! Isn't that enough?!”

“By any sane person's standards, of course. God flows through me when I'm with patients, and I know if I hit an artery, sneeze and poke a vital nerve or spill my coffee into an open wound, it's because that's what the lord intended to happen.”

“Golly, Dr. Potterswheel, that's beautiful.”

“I know. My point though, Doughy, is that while I certainly would leave it in God's hands, the law says otherwise.” He leaned in closer to Doughy and added softly, “And trust me, people check. It ain't something that can be done on the DL.”

Doughy left the hospital, completely numb again. He was at rock bottom and out of ideas. He’d have to do what he never thought he'd have to; pack my things, take money from my pop one last time, and leave town. The most holy town in America doesn't need a blasphemer like me tainting its reputation.

As he continued home he knew he'd need a plan, which he didn't have. He saw a sign for a park. I need a plan. Maybe I oughta sit and collect my thoughts. I'm not worthy of prayer right now. The inevitable future was going to take him away in its tide, he knew that, but first some peace of mind.

He found a bench in the shade, which was more than appealing to him at this point. He didn't care that it overlooked a noisy playground. He thought of different things he could do after running away from Moralton for good, a concept so painful it made scheming unthinkable. All he could think of was how much he'd miss everything, but leaving Orel and his church was agony to him. It's hard to think when I'm this upset! No! Snap out of the emotions, Latchkey! You got thinking to do! You can cry about missing everyone later! I better find a mental insti- intuition. Moralton's probably got the best doctors ever, and I don't deserve them! It was the best he could do.

“Hey, whatcha doin’?” He peered up, two big kids, one with blond hair and the other brunette. They were seemingly towering over him. “Hiya!” He was at his lowest but the Christian in him forced him to be polite and friendly. “I'm Doughy, I'm just thinking!”

“Who comes to a playground to think?” Sneered the brunette boy. “Yeah,” Said the blond boy, cackling. “We're gonna hafta beat you up! Donny?”

“With pleasure, Chuck!” Donny picked up Doughy by his tie. “Please! Ow, yer’ choking me!”

“Oh, boo-hoo!” The boys mocked at the same time, high-fiving. “HELP!”

“HEY!” They all turned their heads to a kid with hands on her hips. As short of breath as Doughy was, he couldn't help but notice how she looked just like Orel. “Put ‘im down!” She commanded, confidence not wavering once even as she stared these two tall, older kids in the eyes.

“Whadder you gonna do, Christina?!” Chuck rolled his eyes in her face. Doughy's eyes widened.

Christina?! Is that-

“Yeah, we ain't afraid of a girl, Posabule! Now scamper off and make a cake out of tampons or something!” She smiled. “Donald Dadsinjail, Charles Selfloather, I'm a Christian, and I'm gonna give you one more chance to put the boy down and turn your other cheeks!” Finally, Donny dropped Doughy with a thud, the pain from falling meaningless from the ability to breathe again. “How ‘bout we turn our butt cheeks on your face, girly?” Laughed Chuck, creeping toward her with menace. She shrugged. “I tried, boys.” She ran into Chuck, fist first into his stomach, then flipping him over as he curled in pain. Finally, she kicked both cheeks. “Was that so hard? Now you, Donald!” 

“I know all your moves, Christina!” His fake confidence was laughable. “Bet you feel pretty dumb, yeah?” 

“You don't learn, do you?” She poked his eyes. Doughy watched in amazement. This was that Christina, he knew the name Posabule. And she was the strongest person he'd ever witnessed. No wonder Orel found comfort in her.

After a “righteous” (and one-sided) fight, Christina walked over to Doughy, who was stunned by her Christ-driven performance. She offered him a hand. “Are you okay, fellow Christian?” He stared at her, having so much to say as each statement and question were vying to escape his lips. “Do you need help?” She tilted her head in confusion, just like Orel, Doughy privately noted. “It's just- first off, fellow Christian, thanks! You saved my life!” He took her hand and she helped him up. “Of course! It's God’s way, uh…”

“Doughy!”

“Hi, Doughy. Christina! But, you already knew that.” She giggled. “You look like you've got a lot of yer mind. You wanna talk?” Years of living in Moralton and having Karl and Kim Latchkey as parents humbled Doughy into believing he didn't deserve anything pleasant, such as human decency and basic kindness. “I don't wanna bother you.”

“No bother! The kids don't wanna play with me anyway. Let's go for a walk!”

“Okay!” They strolled towards a trail entrance, two very injured boys on their path, still writhing. “Will they be alright, Christina?”

“Only if it's God's will!” They laughed as they continued to walk.

She led him to a bridge overlooking a pond, putting Doughy at ease immediately. “So, what's bugging you? I love helping people! It's what Jesus would do.” Judging by reactions thus far, Doughy was far from trusting understanding to keep him safe. But this was Christina Posabule, she was trustworthy by default, and looking into her eyes, there was nothing but acceptance and a desire for friendship.

So he opened his mouth to speak.

Chapter Text

“I'm a protestant and I never, ever missed church but I have a crush on my best friend who’s a boy but I also don't want a relationship and I can't fix it so I'm gonna run away from home!” Doughy unwound very subtly. “Oh.” Christina was still processing, but the second she understood, she took his hand. “It's gonna be okay. Don't run away, I…” She turned away, looking at the water. “I tried to. Someone will notice you're gone and come looking for you. Then your parents get mad at you for not honoring them and ground you from going to church.”

“Yikes! That's awful!”

“Yeah. My reverend is a little mad too still. I'm realizing…” She picked up a stone and threw it into the water. “I love God, but maybe not everything every adult says is right. They're not perfect.” He gasped dramatically. “Christina! That’s a sin to say!”

“Well, technically, yeah. But maybe not everything the bible says is right. I mean, adults aren’t perfect. I had a crush a few months ago…” She paused, frustrated. “He was Presbyterian and said the Lord’s prayer different from me. So, my family forced us apart. The boy couldn’t even be friends with me… One night we snuck out…” Doughy nodded along, hearing the tail from her perspective rather than Orel’s. It was the same. They were the same. Boy, maybe she’s right! Maybe adults are wrong sometimes. She looked sullenly at the water when she was done. “His dad was just like mine, and he was so dedicated to his way of the prayer because his dad told him my family was wrong, and he left, miserable. He left me alone.” Doughy put his arm on her shoulder. To his surprise her face softened and she looked dreamily at the water. “Still though, when it was peaceful between us… it was amazing. I just hope… he gets less cowardly. I know he wasn’t used to defying adults, but he made me feel useless. I deserve better.” That’s where their stories differed. Orel full of fear and regret he still expressed, Christina full of resentment. In all the confusion though, Doughy was certain they belonged together. He’d try to make that happen, and he wasn’t going to run away. She was right. He could cope. “I’m sorry, Christina. You changed my life though. I’m gonna be okay and make my own choices. With the permission ‘a God of course!” She smiled. “You’ve helped me too, Doughy.”

“But, you don’t care that I’m…”

“...Into boys? Not really. My own best friend is a boy who likes boys, and he’s not really different than before. He’s the same, and I bet this is another thing the bible got wrong. You still feel the same, right? Besides all the stress? Really think about it.” He did. “Well, I still love Jesus, and my friends, and SuperGod! I don’t like spiders or loud noises. So yeah! I am! ” He had never really felt genuine self-love, and it washed over him, making it impossible for him not to grin and giggle. “I can’t thank you enough, Christina. Wanna hang out here and talk about our favorite psalms? Then maybe you can teach me some of your moves, ‘cuz you’re the toughest person I’ve ever seen!”

“Thanks, Doughy! And heck yeah!”

They had no idea how much time passed. All they knew was that they were having fun. Doughy couldn’t stop mentally comparing Christina to Orel. It was by no means in a bad way; they were just so alike. God really made these two for each other! Identical to a point where even if Doughy wanted to compete for Orel’s affection, he couldn’t harbor an ounce of resentment or dislike toward Christina, both for being Orel’s perfect match and such a lovable soul. She's so nice and fun! I can't be with Orel, but I'll pray 'til he's with Christina!

Unfortunately, the angry voice of Poppit Posabule broke through the air. “Christina! Did you wander off out of stupidity? Or are you running away again? You’d better not be doing anything crass, you little trollope! You were supposed to remain on the playground!”

“Oh my gosh, is that your mom? That's terrible! ” Doughy whispered. “Yeah, she is. It’s alright, I’m used to it.” She shrugged. “But you hafta go now or she’ll get us both in trouble!” She gave him a quick hug. “It’s been a pleasure, Doughy! I’ll try and see you again, in fact I know I will!”

“You saved my life, Christina, we’ll be Jesus pals forever! See you soon, bye!” As he walked away briskly he turned around and added, “And you'll definitely see Orel again! He misses you too!” He mentally recoiled, he hadn't wanted to pepper more complication into this day by telling her he was Orel Puppington’s best friend. Her jaw dropped. “What- we have to meet up for sure now! I have questions! But seriously, run!”

He did, and dodged everything that normally terrified him. He crossed another bridge, and a wood panel right behind him snapped. Had he stalled any longer he’d have fallen into the water. He wouldn't have drowned, but he abhorred mud and being filthy. He walked through an evergreen’s web, its host scurrying to his face. Nothing. He brushed her off. He walked past a fallen wasp’s nest and ignored its angry inhabitants. He even encountered a grown adult who attempted to rob him, but Doughy was on a mission to get home safely and embrace who he was, and get Orel and Christina back together. He simply said, “Sorry, sir!” And pushed the mugger into the pond, running faster after. Unlucky for this criminal, the angry evergreen and wasps spotted this pond-bound victim.

The heat caught up with Doughy again, and the sun was hitting him directly this time. He slowed down, but even taking his jacket was useless and offered virtually no relief. It also occurred to him he'd been running for nearly forty minutes at least, but it was in the opposite direction Christina had entered the trail. He had no idea where the trail looped, or even if it did. He had hardly eaten that day, or drank, and it was taking a toll. I will get home! I don't wanna get in trouble! But tunnel vision slowly crept on him, his walking getting slower. He lost complete focus, heard strange, loud noises and the world went black.

He awoke, and to his horror, in the dark. “Golly! What time is it?!” He panicked, flinching because he’d fainted in a briar bush. It hurt so much. As did several discomforts: I'm so thirsty! Gee, and hungry. Ooh, I've never had to pee this badly in my life! But movement seemed impossible through his weak limbs. “Owwww,” He grumbled, so dazed he was still oblivious to the predicament he was in. What jolted him was footsteps. Exhausted as he was, he was jarred. “H-hello? Is someone there?” He wished he could rescind that, being as the last stranger he encountered in the woods was a thief. Too late. “Yes! Oh, I see you! Hold on!” 

“No, stay back! I don't have money!” 

But he could already see a tall silhouette approaching with purpose.

Oh whillikers, God, help me, please!

Another bout of tears, and another wave of piercing hunger. All with a stranger walking toward him. He silently prayed, though his faith was faltering. Will praying even help? God's been letting me and other good people down.

Chapter Text

Orel

Monday Morning 

“Orel, are you ready for lunch?” Called Bloberta. “Not yet, Mom! But thanks!” He answered, looking out of his bedroom window. “Well, too bad! I already started making ranch mac and cheese, so vamoose!” He looked disappointed. “Coming.” He tried to mask his aggravation.

He sat at the table, hands on his chin as he processed. “You've hardly touched your lunch, dear,” Bloberta walked to his chair as Block followed while screaming. Some stray macaroni and cheese fell from the pot she was handling. “Yummy!” He delved for the floor. “What's the matter, Orel? It’s been ten minutes, son. You don’t want your lunch to go cold, because I'm not reheating it.” He sighed. “Mom… I’m worried about Doughy.”

“In what way? I mean, there are so many things wrong with him.” She sat down across from him, eating her own lunch, a salad. “It’s just… Doughy’s my closest friend, and I still don't know why can’t see me outside of church. We tell each other everything! Reverend Putty talked to him yesterday, and he looked real nervous. He hasn’t called!” He slowly took a bite of his lunch. “Is he lying that something is wrong? Does he not wanna be friends anymore?”

“Aw, Orel.” Bloberta pushed aside her pitifully small salad and took his hand. “I’ve never encountered this. All my friends stay loyal to me, and none of them are as bizarre as that Doughy Latchkey.”

“Mom, I-”

“Just talk to your father, will you? I’m not equipped for this. He loses friends all the time.” Through a cruel chuckle she took her hand back. “Why should I help?”

“Because… you’re my mom.”

“I’m Shapey’s mom too.” Block screamed and walked up to the counter, selecting a knife from its holder to view his reflection in. “Ooh, sword!”

“Mom, that’s not Sha-”

“Don’t change the subject, Orel. He’s younger and needs my attention.”

“I’ll say! Mom, he’s putting a knife near his eye!”

“Oh, you are so dramatic. Look, wait ‘til your stupid father who you seem to idolize as if he were Christ himself comes home. Now eat your lunch.”

“Okay. Where is Pop?”

“Oh, probably at the bar, marinating in his vomit and flirting with that tramp of a bartender.”

“Oh. Okay!” He had no idea what that meant. Mother and son continued to eat as Block saw a bird outside and tried to climb out of the kitchen window.

Later, Orel sat on his swing, pining for Doughy. Sure, God’s company was delightful, but he wanted someone to bond over God with. God, I love your company, but I still feel lonely. No offense. Reverend Putty isn’t at work yet, Stephanie doesn't work at all today, and my pals like Tommy, Joe, Billy, et cetera aren’t coming home from the trip until tonight. He could usually make use of alone time, but not knowing his best friend’s status made him uneasy, so this private time was more of an uncomfortable solitude. I can't relax or have fun without Doughy!

He lay in the grass, Block poking him with a stick. “Boring! Move!"

“Not now, adopted little brother.” Time for a shriek. With that, he heard a car pull into the driveway. He perked up. “Dad?” He heard clumsy footsteps, a belch and, “Thanks fer driving me home, Karl. One more DUI and… well, y’know.”

Orel beamed. “It is Dad!” 

“No problem, Clay! Now I gotta get home to my own wife!”

“Ha! I admire and envy your enthusiasm toward Kim. Say ‘hi’ to your not succubus of a missus for me!”

“Will do! Oh, it's your kid.”

“Dad! Oh, hiya, Mr. Latchkey! I actually need to talk to you about Doughy, if you have a minute!”

“I mean, not really. And anyway I'm so mad that brat got ‘imself kicked out of the camping trip, ruining my kidless weekend.”

“Amen to that,” Chuckled Clay. Karl smiled maliciously. “I'm glad that pest didn't come home last night!”

“What?!” Orel was distraught. Karl laughed. “Yeah, neither me or Kim have heard from ‘im since yesterday at church when he said he’d sit with you guys!”

“Lucky,” Exclaimed Clay. Orel was speechless.

He sobbed in his bed. Sobbed. He was too afraid to seek comfort from Clay or Bloberta. My parents will just call me 'girly' again and laugh if they see me cry! (Being impounded in it, Orel did believe crying anywhere other than church made him pathetic.) And they're probably right. He rolled over onto his side, making direct eye contact with his Jesus alarm clock. He wiped his eyes. “You're right, Jesus. You never gave up. I gotta toughen up and look for Doughy! I'll leave when no one will notice me, after dinner, or I'll get us both in trouble. Ooh. I dunno, I don't wanna disobey my elders though! Mom and Dad always know what's best!” He heard from the other room rustling. “Son of a- Bloberta, have you seen my keys?” She responded with a condescending laugh. “You were just out! Maybe try helping me out around the house before you go out for some pointless errand, which likely includes you buying more liquor?”

“‘Help you around the house?!’ I'm not a fairy or a woman, Bloberta! I'm the man, and you have zero right questioning me or my errands! I work a stinkin’ dead-end job so you can live in your precious house!”

“Can't hear you over the washing machine, darling!”

“I'll find ‘em myself.” He exited the room. “Shapey, get outta my way. And quit sucking on the outlet; I'm not paying a medical bill for your stupidity.”

Orel was now pacing, unsure of what to do. A picture of him and Doughy at an Annual Christ Convention caught his eye. “That does it. I'll save Doughy after dinner and no one will know.” He looked at the ceiling. “Thanks for the nudges, Jesus!”

He snuck out of the window when it was dark. Bloberta was beating rugs, as she did on beautiful June nights. Clay was headed to the bar. Orel was in the clear.

Christina 

Sunday Afternoon 

After church, Mrs. Posabule took the kids to the playground. Christina certainly didn't need such bribery, but Block sure did. Not that this was Block-

“Christina! Make sure Block doesn't eat from the sandbox again, I'm going to get us some water bottles from that cart.”

“Mom, that isn't-”

“Good girl!” 

“Okay, Shapey.” She touched his shoulder. “No!" He screamed, getting even the adult’s attention. “I was just gonna fix your shirt tag!”

“Christina, no!” Lucky for her, the sandbox was full and Shapey was more interested in playing with the portable grills the park supplied. If he lights it, I'll act. Right now, she wanted to know what everyone else was up to. Her best friends went home after church, having no little siblings. She didn't know any of the kids very well that were present, but she'd try to socialize like a good Christian. So she went up to two kids from school she was familiar with. “Hi, Mary! Hi, Bobby! Wanna play with me?”

“Uh, we don't wanna play SuperGod with you,” Scoffed Bobby. Christina's heart sank and she let out a soft, uncomfortable chuckle. “Well, we don't have to play SuperGod, you guys.”

“Like you ever want to play anything else!” They laughed and walked away. There were other kids around, but she was too discouraged. She sat under a tree and thought for a second, then the hairs on her neck stood up upon seeing the bullies from middle school, Donald Dadsinjail and Charles Selfloather. They walked past her and went straight to Mary and Bobby playing catch. She knew she should warn them, and felt awful for feeling kind of satisfied by the instant karma. “Forgive me, Jesus,” She whispered, looking to “Heaven” with doe eyes. She perked up. “That gives me an idea!” She hopped up. “Hot dog!”

She climbed up the slide ladder. Before going down, she waved clearly at the sky. “Hi, God!” She went down the slide, climbed back up the ladder and repeated the cycle. "Hi, God!" And again. And again. And…

After a while (Poppit still not back from her imaginary errand,) another kid came up. “Hey Christina, wanna give someone else a turn?” She sneered. “Not now, Joan! I know a bully like you won’t play with me, so scram! I’m playing with a real friend!” Joan rolled her eyes. “Lemme guess, God?”

“Yeah, how’d you know? Hi, God!” She went down the slide again, absolutely oblivious to Joan’s sarcasm. “Whatever, slides are stupid anyway. Nuh!” She stuck her tongue out and stormed off childishly. When Christina climbed back up the ladder, she could see Donny and Chuck had moved on to another kid, a kid she didn’t know. But he was terrified and had a sweet face. Plus, in his Sunday best, so definitely a churchgoer like her. “Time to use Jesus as my superpower,” She stated proudly, going down the slide dramatically.

As she warned the bullies to turn the other cheek like Christians, she made sure to enforce unwavering eye contact to stand firm, but also keep an eye on the kid they were harassing. Upon making them turn the other cheek her way, she had confidence they’d not bug her again. She couldn't help but give a glance to them as she walked off with her new friend, a glance that was a visual don't bother me ever again, making Chuck and Donny flinch more. Her father's voice echoed in her head. That's not what I meant by ‘turn the other cheek,’ Christina! And her mother, Do you know how butch you look when you fight bullies off? You're a girl, Christina! Act like one, or boys will find you gross! Plus, you might pop an ovary! She shook her head. She'd had no choice, and maybe women and girls being useless was another thing the bible, and society, got wrong. As she helped him up, she wanted to show him her favorite spot in the park, possibly in town. The first bridge overlooking Mosquito Rich Pond. 

She'd been going since she was a small child and now accepted it as a comfort zone. The memories engulfed her.

When she’d won a praying contest. She hugged the trophy.

When her art teacher praised her as drawing the best Jesus (blond hair and lily white skin of course.) She marveled her painting that now had a first place ribbon on it.

When she first met Orel. 

Bad times too, like this one.

As she was growing up she was finding less things outside of religion to be jovial about, and she actually hadn't been there for joy in a while. Gee... when was I last happy?

Her last growth spurt becoming something to be punished for. "You're brooching puberty!" She heard Art scream as she looked at her reflection on the pond. "I thought you'd lose that puppy fat when you got tall!" Poppit's voice joined in. "Liposuction for you, dear."

Her father's beatings, her mother letting it happen. "You tried lifting one of my weights?! You're not a man! I'll give you a belt for a warning, but next time I'll slap you with one of these weights!"

"He's right, Christina." A tear fell into the pond.

Her reverend calling her a traitor for dating someone “outside her faith.” "Maybe Jews will marry non Jews or whatever, but Presbyterians date each other! While Anglo Saxons are endangered, you know!"

Many things, but the most painful thing she'd encountered? In a word, Orel. She could have lived with everyone else shunning her; he saw her as an equal, someone to respect rather than “just a girl.” His rejection left her cold and lonely, which she would have been completely had her family found out about their pursuing relationship. 

"Boy, Christina! You're smart and funny, I love spending time with you! I can't wait for you to meet my friends! We have everything in common!"

She stood alone. This one will take some recovery.

But though this spit was sacred, Doughy needed it more than anyone, she decided. Forget my troubles, this boy needs a miracle! When they arrived, he hadn't even known why this place was so special, but she could see the gratitude in his face.

While the two new pals talked about their favorite psalms together, she realized how much they had in common. Was anything the church taught me right, other than God and Jesus? She didn't care, she hardly knew Doughy and was still having the time of her life. Forget that. This is so fun! She'd also never told anyone other than her two best friends about her fiasco with Orel. It was frustrating but felt good to finally discuss regardless. Glad I finally got the Orel story off my chest.

When Poppit’s voice cut through the trees more than any ax ever could, she knew it was over. The fun is over! The inevitable was happening. Doughy didn't deserve Poppit’s wrath. I gotta stay calm for Doughy. He needs my support.

When he mentioned Orel, her jaw dropped. She was speechless, in absolute shock. Even as she heard Poppit getting closer, she didn't care. She was however relieved Doughy had escaped farther wrath than he'd been given. He's safe now... I hope. Uh, pray.

On the way home, Poppit scolded her without pausing (ignoring Shapey shrieking and trying to gnaw through his seatbelt.) “Ever since you turned twelve, you've become a disgrace! You embarrass the Posabule name!” She was thirteen. Still, Orel was burning in her brain. She wasn't angry with Doughy. Why would he bring up his friendship with Orel? “...I will not be a grandmother, Christina! It will age me by default!”

Though she was more or less able to function, she was still shocked. It stayed with her through the rest of the day:

“Look! Sharp!” While she read on the couch, Shapey demonstrated the sharpness of the fork he was holding by stabbing himself in the forehead and screaming.

“Christina, you're grounded, so no saying grace tonight!” Okay, that hurt. “But-but Dad! It's my turn!”

“You disobeyed your mother, young lady. Do you think Jesus disobeyed orders from his elders?” 

“Uh… biblically speaking, yes!” She was right but knew immediately she'd regret that. Art gripped his glass (full of alcohol) tightly and forced a grin. He put the glass down then and raised his hand threateningly, making Christina recoil instinctively. “You sure about that, daughter?”

“Oh, Art!” Poppit glared at him. “Not during dinner! I will not be responsible for your food going cold because you want to beat our daughter!” 

“Fine,” He growled. “But both of you dumb females had better watch yourselves.” He slugged his drink, making even Poppit look uncomfortable. “Block, son, you say grace!”

“Weeeee!” ‘Block’ was playing rocketship with his spoon. “Pop, he can't!” Christina defended. “Also, that's not-”

“Shuddup, Christina, and quit being jealous of your brother just because he's the boy.” Being as this wasn't far from normal Posabule dinner activity, she was still thinking about Doughy. Still, tears involuntarily prickled her eyes as she bowed her head for ‘grace.’

That night, she snuck on the roof, and looked at the stars. She had a few minutes until Art checked that she was in bed before going out to the bar. She prayed, being sure to keep her tears at bay and her voice stable but in a whisper. “God, thank you for having me meet Doughy today. You've now shown me once and for all it doesn't matter if someone is a different sector of Christianity than you, but as long as you're Christian! That's correct, right? Anyway…” Among the summer lullabies of crickets, katydids, and leaves in the breeze, she let out a comically long list of people she wanted blessed.

She concluded, tears getting harder to hold back, “Please let Doughy be safe. And not that I'm telling you or Jesus what to do, but I need to see him and Orel again. Someday soon too, we can all be friends!” She let some tears fall. “Please,” She whispered. She was startled as she heard Art’s authoritative, if not already drunk footsteps brooching. She gasped and climbed back in the window. 

Lying in bed, she opened an eye one last time. “I have faith in you,” She whispered, then shut her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Right on time. Art came in, belching. “Yeah, you lie in bed the right way, you rebellious brat,” She heard him mutter.

Stephanie 

Monday Evening 

She walked into the church, all dressed up and ignoring the fact that being an openly queer person in a conservative church made her uncomfortable. I feel nauseous being here, but at least the nuts won't pelt me with bibles or whatever .

They knocked at Rod's office. He answered, surprised but happy. “Hey, kiddo! Oh! Dinner tonight, right?”

“Yeah, Dad, we do this every Monday,” They chuckled. He smacked his forehead. “You must think I'm such a spaz- Uh, doofus.”

“Thanks for correcting that slur. And no, not a doofus. More like someone who's busy and isn't used to hanging out with his kid.”

“Fair enough.” Stephanie could tell how grateful he was for their understanding. “Lemme just lock up the ol’ church and let's go! Can't wait to see the restaurant you chose!”

Le Stereotipo Italiano

(The Italian Stereotype)

“Classy, Steph! I gotta hand it to you!” She smiled, seeing him more relaxed. He was so tense on the ride over. Better ask. "Dad?"

“Oh, boy. Uh, wow.” He cringed while reading the menu.

“What's wrong?”

“Are you sure about this place? Maybe we split something, yeah? Like veal ro-sah-tto?”

“Risotto, Dad. And thanks, but I'm a vegetarian.”

“Well, y'know, if you're so keen on evolution, you'd know humans are hunters.”

“Dad.”

“I know, I know, respect your choices.” She rolled her eyes, knowing he didn't mean that at all. “Look, I'm paying tonight, it's my turn to. Just try and relax.” He sighed. She raised her eyebrows, surprised to see him being vulnerable. Is he about to apologize?! Christians suck at that! “I'm sorry, honey. You know I'm mediocre at this ‘feelings’ crap.”

“‘Crap.’ Okay." She smiled with sarcasm. “I take it work was tough? Church was just yesterday, Orel driving even you nuts with his Jesus fixation?”

“Well, yeah. But also, probably my second most pious church member is having a sexuality crisis.”

“Aw, and they're having a hard time accepting it being religious?”

“Yeah.” He looked down sadly. “Sorry, Dad.” She took his hand. “Thanks. It's just- I was so in shock about it, I couldn't act! I could've offered him Fairy-py, but I just couldn't believe it!” Stephanie snatched her hand back. “First off, what is ‘fairy-py?!’”

“Uh, it's private one-on-one therapy kept secret that the church offers to make people stop being homos, lezzies and transvestites, of course.” He chuckled. “Thought the name was pretty self-explanatory.”

“What- are you kidding?!” Her voice carried, and she didn't care. “Stephanie, people are staring,” He fretted through his teeth. “Don't care. I don't expect us to agree on a lot, Dad, but when it comes to basic human rights I draw a line. Someone loyal to you comes out as gay and you ostercise them?! They're gay. So what? Do you wanna ‘cure’ people who aren't white too? Just because someone isn't like you doesn't make them inferior or sick! And ‘homos, lezzies and transvestites?’ Are you serious?”

“Stephanie, I'm trying. But the bible says-”

“Then I guess you and your precious bible don't accept me.” She fought the urge to scream. His eyes widened. “You-you mean you’re-”

“Queer? Yes. I mainly like women, but I’ve dabbled with men and enbies too.” He stammered, which she capitalized on to continue speaking. “Speaking of enbies, I also accept any and all pronouns. So, I’m sexually queer and genderqueer too.”

“Wh-w-” She laughed humorlessly. “This really surprises you? Look at my hair and style, Dad. Do I look like one of your run-of-the-mill cisgendered hetero people? And no, I’m not ‘ill.’ I started realizing I had feelings for women when I was a kid, and when I found out there were people like me in the world, I felt better. Same for being genderqueer. I’m free. But with people like you who hate me for no reason other than archaic traditions, I’ll never be truly free, and neither will people like that poor churchgoer.” She cleared her throat. “So, knowing your kid is a minority, will you accept the community, accept me?”

“Uh…” He rubbed the back of his head, clearly unable to make eye contact with her. “It’s complicated, Stephanie. I’m a clergy member. I still wanna be part of your life-”

“No.” She forced eye contact, making him sweat with anxiety. “You either accept all of me or you get none of me. So?” He stammered again. “I geddit.” She grabbed her bag and stood up. “I don’t know why I thought this relationship would work. I was already a pariah being completely different and having one guardian growing up. ‘Little Orphan Stephanie,’ one boy called me. Now? That’s the one thing that bible-thumping bigot was right about. I am an orphan.” She started strolling out. “No! Stephanie, I-”

“Keep my name out of your mouth, bootlicker.” Before being completely out of sight she yelled, “Have fun with another dinner alone, Reverend!" She didn’t stick around to see his response. Forget him. You’re a lone wolf, Foamwire. 

They stood in the alley and cried. “Uh, excuse me,” Came an agitated voice. “Mayor Puppington?”

“Not so loud! I had a rough night at the bar.”

“That doesn’t explain why-”

“Clay?” Their neck hairs stood up upon hearing Danielle Stopframe behind them. They turned around, eyes wide. “Clay, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend, heheheh. What’s your name, sexy?”

“Okay, I’m out!” They walked off. 

She needed a walk, feeling absolutely manic. She drove downtown and found a new park. Being in nature will help.

She'd been backstabbed. She'd live through it. She was no stranger to gaslighting, queerphobia and abandonment. She took a deep breath and walked.

At first the voices yelled at them. Teasing from their biggest bully, his annoying voice echoing. Hey, Little Orphan Stephanie! Did your single mommy drop you off? Okay, looking back, Karl Latchkey was a pretty lame bully. They shook their head and continued. Their negative thoughts evaporated upon seeing a bat fly above their head and they even smiled. 

Farther on the trail, she heard a weak voice calling for help and acted. She was luckily not far and spotted them almost right away (what was left of the ugly vibrant church clothes made searching easy.) “I don't have money, please stay back!”

“What? I wanna help!”

“Don't hurt me,” The kid whimpered. She brooched him slowly and finally got a good look. “Oh my god, kid! Let me help you out of that briar!”

“Thanks, ma'am. I’m too weak and I got real hot this afternoon after not eating and heard all these noises and voices at once and fainted, and I just woke up and it's dark!” 

“‘Voices?’ From the sound of it, you had a seizure!”

“I might have… happens every time I don't eat enough. It kept happening today every time I tried to move. Ow! A thorn!"

"So you've been here since this morning?"

"Uh-huh, right after church!" Her jaw dropped.

“Okay, I'm gonna get you out of these thorns, and to distract you we'll get to know each other. Sound good?” I'll tell him he's been unconscious for nearly two days after I get him help.

“Well, my mom said not to talk to strangers, but I don't see any other choice. So, okay, miss. And thank you.”

“It's the right thing to do, kiddo.”

“Gee, you're really sweet. I bet you're a really good Christian. Maybe it's ‘cuz I'm tired, but I don't recognize you from church! Not that I'm doubting your faith, you're really Christian, I'm sure!”

“Uh… thank you.”

“Y’know, most ‘a the women other than Mrs. Papermouth who I see in church aren't as nice as you!” Stephanie was going to blow her top if she had to keep hearing about church, especially after tonight. “Okay… let's talk about something else. You got a name, kid?”

“I'm Doughy.”

“Hi, Doughy. I'm Stephanie. Any reason no one rescued you from this park?!”

“I dunno. It hasn't been that long, right? I was gonna run away from home, then I was gonna go back… I don't know where home is anymore.” He lapsed his head back in defeat. “You're free!” 

“I am?” He wobbled up, Stephanie supporting him. “You completely distracted me! I hardly noticed the thorns!”

“In my line of work, conversation is the best numbing agent.”

“Oh, are you a doctor?” She laughed uncomfortably. “No, sweetie. But let's get you to one!”

“No! Please, Miss Stephanie!” He wailed. “I'll hafta wait forever and they'll find out my awful secret and I just wanna eat and drink! And I really, really really need to go to the bathroom!” He bounced in place, holding his groin. "I'm gonna wet my pants!" She sighed. “I can't believe I'm doing this… but you're right. Those doctors are useless. We're not far from the shop either… Okay, Doughy, what do you say about going to a drive-through, having me buy you everything on the menu, then I'll patch you up at a store you can't ever tell your parent or guardian you were in?”

“Okay!” He stood up too fast and grabbed his head. “Whoa. I feel funny.” 

“How about I carry you?”

“Yes, please.” Even in his haze, he could acknowledge he'd never received such amazing treatment from an adult. A tear of joy ran down his face as his eyes fluttered shut. I'm going to be okay.

Chapter Text

“Food for you , Doughy!” Stephanie handed him several huge bags, a drink and a large milkshake as they drove away from the drive-through. “You’re an amazing person, Stephanie,” He said softly, still weak. “So you keep saying,” They laughed. “You are too.” He looked at the bag longingly as his stomach audibly growled. “Aren't you gonna dig in? We're still a good ten minutes from the store!”

“But then I'd be eating and drinking in the car, and I don't wanna be hit!” Their face went dark. “You just went through something abysmal. Besides, what sicko would hit someone, let alone a kid, for eating in the car?!” He looked down sadly. They bit their her lip. Fucking Moralton. “Go nuts, Doughy! But give me a fry!” Doughy felt overwhelmed by the kindness and finished the entire meal before they even got to Buried Pleasures.

He hesitated before getting out of the car. “You coming?” Something she'd heard a lot in the movies they sold in the store, which she was now unlocking. It was an emergency, no one had to know. “Uh, Miss Stephanie?”

“Just Stephanie is fine, honey. What's the matter? Does your stomach hurt?”

“No, but can you come here? I have a really private question.” She walked up to him, confused. “Is there a bathroom?!” He whispered desperately, fidgeting. She laughed. “Well, I certainly don't hold it in all day. Right this way. Then we'll clean up your scratches. Sorry, I totally forgot you had to use the loo.” How long has he been holding it?!

They got the first aid kit out and was just amazed by the negligence of poor Doughy. Such a beautiful soul, and stoic too. How could his guardian not know where he was?! He's just like... wait. Orel has mentioned  Doughy. A dozen times. They'd been so dazed and manic, plus shaken from finding a practically abandoned kid in the woods, they'd failed to make the connection. Then they made another connection. Orel said his last name is Latchkey. And he had red hair, no coincidence. No wonder he was discarded. God, they hated Karl and Kim. Taunting them with their relationship for years everyday, both in school and at their place of work. Now, this hatred was beyond words. They adored Doughy, and knew they'd  have to do everything in their power to make him feel better tonight. We both need à pick me up tonight.

She heard Doughy yell after a few minutes. Please tell me he's out of the bathroom. “Doughy?!” Before she could run to him he came peeling into the room. “It's Monday?!” Oh yeah, the day-to-day calendar next to the counter. “Uh… yeah. I wasn't gonna tell you until later, but-” He burst into tears. “Oh, Doughy… I can't imagine. It'll be alright.”

“It's not that!” He managed between sobs. “No one noticed I was gone! I bet they didn't even care!” He wiped his eyes and looked at Stephanie with complete adoration. “But you do. You rescued me.” He gave her a bear hug, and was overjoyed when she hugged him back, something that never happened with adults in Moralton. “It's what any sane person would've done,” She said softly. So something never done in this stupid town. He sniffled, refusing to let go. “You're the only one who cares.” 

“Y’know, Doughy, I was having a crappy night myself. Sometimes I feel like nobody cares either.”

“Not true!” He backed up and looked her in the eye. “Orel loves you! He talks about you all the time!”

“I’m pretty sure Orel speaks highly of everyone to an extent,” She chuckled. “No, he idolizes you. Sometimes he even goes to you for help instead of his dad! He even said you’re the most cool, unique and warm person he’s ever met!” Stephanie was about ready to cry herself. She didn’t have a whole lot of friends, but she wasn’t alone. She had two younger friends who thought the world of her. “Thanks for that, kid.” She hugged him again. She looked up upon hearing a tapping at the window, which she was facing. If it's Fakey again looking for late-night sex toys… She then remembered she had met Doughy for a split second: 

"You just made me a sale!" Easiest money ever!

 “Uh, why don’t you go in the back, honey? There’s a room with a curtain. I’ll be there in a sec to dress up your scratches, okay?”

“Alright.” He walked to the back. “Hey, Stephanie?” He called. “It says ‘piercing room.’ Why would people want this much privacy to get their ears pierced?” She slapped her forehead. “Some people just like the option of boundaries, I guess!”

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna lie on this bed now! You guys must really want your customers to feel at home, I love this store!”

“Oh good lord,” She groaned as she walked to the front.

It was Orel, holding papers and looking absolutely miserable. They opened the door immediately. “Stephanie!” He hugged them immediately. “Orel! What’s wrong?!”

“It’s my best friend Doughy, he didn’t come home last night! He’s missing and says he’s mentally ill but won’t tell me and I miss him! I-I made missing posters, may I hang one up in your window?” They smiled. “Come this way, Orel.”

“Okay.” He smiled softly as they put their arm around his shoulder for support.

“Doughy!”

“Orel?! I-” He didn’t get to finish his sentiment as Orel raced up and jumped onto the table to hug his best friend and never let go. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Doughy!”

“Really!?”

“I missed you so much! I don’t care what illness you have, I wanna see you more than at church!”

“I’m not ill, and I think I’m ready to talk. It’s been a heck of a ride. Stephanie saved my life! She’s gonna mend my scratches, and I’ll tell you everything, ‘cuz I missed you too!” Stephanie got the first aid kit ready, and gave them both side hugs before she began. Doughy took a deep breath. 

They were all crying by the end of the epic. “Golly, Doughy, you coulda told me you like me!” He took his hand. “I don’t like you that way, but I do love you. It doesn’t change anything!”

“But the bible says it’s a sin, so did Reverend Putty!” Stephanie’s heart sank again. He was the queer churchgoer. “Y’know, kids, lemme tell you a secret; Reverend Putty screws up sometimes too.” They both gasped. “No!” Orel’s eyes had never been wider. “Mm-hmm, it’s true. You’re both amazing kids, regardless of who you do or don’t crush on. Orel, after this story, I hope you do reconnect with this Christina.”

“I will, soon.”

“And when you realized you liked her, did you feel any farther from Jesus?” It pained them to ask something so cringeworthy, but anything for Orel. “Gosh, no, Stephanie! In fact, I was so happy I felt closer!”

“Doughy, do you feel farther from Jesus?”

“No, ma’am! Never!”

“See? Two alternative people who are even closer to God than before.” They smiled, seeing their faces light up. The boys looked at each other, knowing they were right. “One thing still confuses me though,” Doughy noted. “How come I have a crush but don't wanna be in a relationship?”

“It’s called asexuality, Doughy. It comes in all shapes and sizes and is a beautiful thing.” He was still a bit confused, so they continued. “All it means is you may not be cut out for romance, and there’s nothing wrong with it. And with great friends, you’ll never be alone!”

“You’ll be my best friend always, Doughy.” Orel squeezed his shoulder. Stephanie nodded. "See? Platonic love is beautiful too. And also, you’re twelve. You have time to figure stuff out.” Doughy, for the first time in days, was truly relaxed. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy. Life would have crazy ups and downs, he knew that, but in the end, there were always Orel and Stephanie, as well as God and Jesus. “Say, Stephanie, isn’t this the room where you pierced my special bit?”

“Yer’ what?” Doughy was confused again. “Oh, boy.” Stephanie shook their head. “How about I take you guys home?”

They were stuffed into her truck, laughing and eating ice cream. “Okay, I need your addresses.” 

“Actually… I wanna have Doughy stay with me tonight, and all week! So I'll just give you my address!” These kids are so cute! “You goddit, Orel!”

“Bye, Stephanie! Love you!” Orel waved to them while walking towards his house. “Me too!” Added Doughy. “Love you guys too!” They waved and drove off. They entered the house quietly, nobody even knowing Orel had left.

Stephanie was brushing her teeth, having forgotten about the horrendous start to her night. She was loved, and she knew it. It also amused her how much Orel looked up to her, when in reality she hadn't even known how much she needed him too. She'd never take it for granted. She pulled the scrunchie out of her hair when there was a knock at the door. Gee, wonder who that is.

“Reverend. Hi. Gonna light a pride flag on fire or give me a half-baked apology?”

“Stephanie, I am so, so sorry. I love you!” They couldn't mask their surprise. They were not expecting that. “Uh, okay, I-”

“I never wanna let religion get in the way of us again, please gimme another chance! I need you!” He wasn't being sarcastic. He wasn't showboating. In fact, he was begging. They'd never seen him do this. They looked him in the eyes, which had absolute misery in them. She smiled. “C’mon in, Dad.”

“Thank you!” They walked in together.

They stayed up, sharing a blanket and drinking tea. “First thing tomorrow, I'm gonna apologize to that poor churchgoer! After I spoil my daughter- uh, kid, rotten with breakfast, of course.”

“Okay, Mr. Sentimental! Where did you come from?”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when you used to mock my hair, tattoos and didn't want anything to do with me? Now you're actually nice.” He was about to protest but she punched his arm playfully. “Proud of you.”

“Love you, Steph.”

“Love you too. And as for the churchgoer? I think they'll be fine.”

At the Puppington house, Orel and Doughy sat in Orel’s room, playing with their SuperGod action figures and laughing themselves silly. Block came in and screamed, “Shud-duuuuup!”

So Orel lured him into bed with a mini candy bar and tucked him in. Orel and Doughy then agreed to go to sleep themselves, but not before praying together.

“Like I said, Dad; that churchgoer will be just fine.”

Stay tuned for an epilogue!

Chapter Text

Through the years (and brutal they were growing up in Moralton,) Doughy survived via his friendships. Things especially looked up when Christina became a permanent member of the pack. He suffered, but was never really alone. Come adulthood, things definitely looked up. He found out he identified with many things that made him different, and also beautiful: asexual, autistic, dyslexic, gay, demi. He was also sweet, well-intentioned and stoic.

But by far, the best times of his life started in his 30s. He was a best friend to several still, and now a role model.

Years later than that fateful day off him going missing (not that they remembered the date,) Doughy knocked on the door of a house that had Posabule-Puppington. He immediately heard scrambling and the door was answered in seconds by a grinning face. “YAY! Hi, Uncle Doughy!” Doughy’s nephew pulled him by the arm. “Everyone’s out back, but I wanted to wait for you! Thaunt Stephanie is holding the baby, Mommy was teaching me to play catch, and Daddy is grilling! Aw, I know it’s only been a few days, but golly, I missed you!” He gave his uncle (who he saw all the time anyway) a hug like he hadn’t seen him in years. He was undoubtedly Orel and Christina’s child. Doughy carried him to the backyard, making him giggle. 

In the backyard, everything was as said; Stephanie was cradling the three month old Posabule baby, Orel was grilling (with vegetarian options for Stephanie of course,) and Christina had a football in hand, but was currently helping Orel with the food. “Mommy, Daddy, Thaunt Stephanie! Uncle Doughy’s here!” He gave his uncle another hug as the other adults came to do the same. 

Doughy Latchkey had an amazing family and a happy life.