Kinsley didn’t let Nicole’s cart get more than three feet past the endcap before she twisted around in the child seat of the cart and pointed a tiny finger at Dayton like she was issuing a formal citation.
“I heard that, Harris,” she said, voice loud enough to make a couple shoppers glance. “And I do not like it when you call me Kinslayer.”
Her tone was furious.
Her face was… not furious.
Her mouth was fighting a smile like it was trying not to lose a game.
Dayton walked backward for two steps, hands up in mock surrender. “Noted. Deeply. Emotionally. Logged.”
Mr. Myers made the smallest sound of a sigh. The kind of sigh dads invented to survive adolescence.
Nicole didn’t even look up. She just flicked her eyes between them like an exhausted referee and said, “Okay. Team. We’re shopping. Not reenacting the season finale of Soccer Girls: Civil War.”
Kinsley leaned forward, offended. “It’s not civil war. It’s accountability.”
Dayton nodded seriously. “She means she wants her nickname to be ‘Goal Queen.’”
Kinsley hissed. “Don’t say that like it’s a joke.”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “Kins. You cannot be a ‘Goal Queen.’ You’re six inches tall.”
Kinsley’s chin lifted. “Then I’m a Goal Duchess.”
Dayton snorted. “Goal… goblin.”
Kinsley’s glare could’ve melted a collar tag.
Mr. Myers slid in beside the cart, gently reclaiming the adult energy of the aisle. “So where are we starting?”
Nicole tilted her phone toward him. The notes app was open, a tidy list with bullet points and little checkboxes. Of course it was.
“Food first,” Nicole said. “Pellets. Wet packs. Then bedding, liners, hygiene, and a travel case. Dayton needs the basics to get Ezra through the week without improvising with… paper towels.”
Dayton made a face. “I wasn’t going to use paper towels.”
Nicole’s expression was flat. “You were absolutely going to use paper towels.”
Mr. Myers glanced at Dayton. “Were you?”
Dayton dodged like a politician. “I was going to use… options.”
Kinsley made a little gagging sound. “Guardian training really does teach you how to lie with confidence.”
Dayton’s eyes widened. “Excuse you?”
Kinsley spread her hands innocently. “I’m just saying. If the SEA ever needs a spokesperson, they should hire you. You’d be like, ‘I’m not imprisoning anyone, I’m creating a safety ecosystem.’”
Nicole coughed a laugh into her sleeve.
Mr. Myers looked up at the aisle sign. “Pellets it is.”
They turned into the pellet aisle and Little Mart immediately did that thing it always did: tried to make containment look like self care.
The shelves were color coded. Pastel boxes. Smiling cartoon Littles holding tiny bowls. Flavor names in cute fonts, like this was a snack subscription and not… nutrition for someone whose autonomy had been legally removed.
Dayton walked slow, scanning the options like she was picking cereal.
“I need more variety,” she said, quieter now. “I don’t want Ezra to just have… bland base pellets. He’s already dealing with everything else.”
Kinsley’s eyes flicked to her. The teasing didn’t stop, but it softened around the edges.
“Okay,” Kinsley said, suddenly practical. “What’s he like with food?”
Dayton blinked. “I… don’t know yet.”
Nicole gave her a look. “That’s fair. You’ve owned him for, what, twelve hours?”
Dayton didn’t correct her.
She reached for a box on the middle shelf. The packaging was aggressively cute: a campfire graphic, tiny marshmallows, and a cartoon Little wearing a flannel scarf like it was on a fall Pinterest board.
“S’mores pellets,” Dayton read. Then, because she was thirteen and still capable of joy in the middle of horror, her eyes lit up. “These might actually be good.”
Kinsley’s head whipped around so fast her collar charm clicked. “Nicole.”
Nicole sighed like she already knew what was coming.
“Why,” Kinsley demanded, “do we not have s’mores pellets?”
Nicole didn’t even blink. “Because you are not a seasonal beverage.”
Kinsley stared at her. “Dayton has a Little for literally five minutes and she’s already buying the good stuff.”
Dayton raised her brows. “It’s called being a supportive Guardian.”
Kinsley scoffed. “It’s called being a show off.”
Mr. Myers looked between them, then at Nicole, like he’d learned there was no correct answer and he was just here to witness. He gave Nicole a tiny nod that said: Pick your battles.
Nicole exhaled, grabbed a box of s’mores pellets, and dropped it in the cart beside Kinsley with a soft thump.
Kinsley’s entire face brightened. “Yes.”
Nicole pointed at her. “This is not a precedent.”
Kinsley hugged the box like it was a trophy. “This is justice.”
Dayton smirked. “Kinslayer demands tribute.”
“I am not—” Kinsley started.
Nicole cut in, deadpan. “You absolutely are. Keep going.”
Dayton moved down the shelf, pulling out a darker box with a more “hearty dinner” vibe.
“What about pot roast pellets?” she asked. “Are those good?”
Kinsley’s expression turned instantly serious, like she’d been summoned for her expertise. “Pot roast is solid. But it depends on the brand. If it’s the one with the mushy carrots, it’s mid.”
Mr. Myers blinked. “You’re reviewing pellets like you’re on FoodTok.”
Kinsley didn’t look ashamed. “Someone has to.”
Nicole leaned over the cart, reading the label. “We’ve never bought pot roast.”
Kinsley gave her a look of deep betrayal. “Nicole.”
Nicole lifted her hands. “I didn’t know you wanted pot roast pellets.”
Kinsley’s voice went theatrical. “Because you never ask what I want. You assume I want ‘nutritionally complete’ and ‘balanced macros’ and ‘no dyes.’”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “You do want no dyes. You literally threw a tantrum last month because the red ones stained your tongue.”
“That,” Kinsley said with dignity, “was a chemical injustice.”
Dayton laughed, then caught herself and looked down the aisle, suddenly aware of where they were and what this meant. She cleared her throat and grabbed another box to give herself something to do.
“Okay, these are Dunkin’ Donuts themed,” she said, holding it up. “That can’t be real.”
Kinsley’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god. Donut pellets are elite.”
Nicole’s face did the thing it always did when Kinsley said “elite.” A slow, pained patience.
“Kinsley,” Nicole said, “you cannot live on donut pellets.”
Kinsley’s stare was deadly. “Watch me.”
Mr. Myers leaned closer, quietly to Nicole, “She’s kidding.”
Nicole didn’t look away from her sister. “She’s not kidding.”
Kinsley pointed at Dayton with a tiny dramatic flourish. “Dayton gets it. Dayton is fun.”
Dayton grinned. “I’m fun.”
Nicole snorted. “You are chaotic.”
“Fun chaotic,” Dayton corrected.
Mr. Myers’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What does Ezra even eat right now?”
Dayton’s grin faded a notch. “Base pellets. Plain. Water. That’s all they gave us today.”
“Okay,” Kinsley said, practical again. “Here’s the move. Get a reliable base pellet, one comfort flavor, and one ‘real food’ flavor. That way if he’s stressed, you can give him something familiar and not just… beige.”
Dayton nodded slowly, absorbing it.
Nicole added, “And wet packs, too. Some Littles do better with wet packs when they’re anxious. Easier to eat. More hydration.”
Kinsley stabbed the air with her finger. “And if you get butter andherb veggie pellets…”
Nicole groaned. “Here we go.”
Kinsley ignored her. “…you can mix them with chicken and herb pellets and it is literally to die for. Like. I would risk my whole collar for it.”
Mr. Myers choked a little. “Do not say you would ‘risk your collar’ for anything.”
Kinsley smiled sweetly at him. “I wouldn’t. I’m just being dramatic for flavor.”
Nicole flicked Kinsley’s tiny sneaker with one finger. “You are not allowed to be dramatic. Dayton is already dramatic enough for the whole friend group.”
Dayton gasped. “Me? Dramatic?”
Kinsley leaned back in the cart seat, smug. “Yes. You literally screamed my nickname down an aisle like you were calling a horse.”
Dayton’s smile turned sharp. “That’s because it works.”
Nicole started pushing the cart again, nudging them further down the aisle. “Okay. Dayton, choose. Base pellet, comfort pellet, dinner pellet. We’ll do wet packs next. Kinsley, stop acting like you’re a pellet sommelier.”
Kinsley lifted her chin. “I am exactly that.”
Mr. Myers walked alongside them, hands in his pockets, watching the three girls like he was seeing something both normal and totally upside down at the same time. He didn’t say anything for a moment.
Then, quietly, to Dayton: “You’re doing okay.”
Dayton didn’t look at him. She just nodded once, small.
Kinsley caught it anyway. Her voice snapped back into its usual edge like a protective reflex. “She’s doing better than okay. She’s buying s’mores pellets. That’s basically elite Guardian behavior.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
Kinsley grinned. “And you love me.”
Nicole pushed the cart forward, the wheels clicking softly on the polished floor.
“Yeah,” Nicole said, voice softening despite herself. “I do.”
Dayton stood on the other side of the cart, still holding the pot roast box in her hands like it weighed more than it should.
In this aisle, under these bright lights, surrounded by cute packaging and corporate smiles, she looked thirteen again.
I love Nicole for trying to keep things on track.
She has her shopping list and is trying so hard but Dayton and Kinsley together is a lot.
“I need more variety,” she said, quieter now. “I don’t want Ezra to just have… bland base pellets. He’s already dealing with everything else.”
considerate. +1 for Dayton in the Guardian space lol
She’s trying to do it right
it’s good to see. I probably won’t have too much sympathy for Ezra if he complains about the flavors since he could have gone and Dayton didn’t need to get different kinds but opted to anyway. Like if i were him I guess if i didn’t like the flavor i’d say something but would still eat it and be thankful it’s not a bland nutrition brick lol
yeah, most likely if he didnt like a flavor they would need to finish the box obviously but she wouldnt rebuy it if eh didnt like it.
Dayton seems to act like she is out of her element here, very unsure of herself. I would think that she would pick some decent flavors, but her training would kick in and make sure that she picks the best nutritional combinations.
Good to see her wanting to pick something appetizing and not just the “base” flavor. Looks like she wants Ezra to have one less thing to complain about.
Food is definitely something that can make the whole captivity experience either bearable or less so. Think about prison food!
I like how Dayton was called out for how she planned to improvise (paper towels) and then how she was called out for using SEA euphemisms. Lethal will have fun with that aspect 😝.
The three girls are having a good time. Mr. Myers doesn’t seem to recognize that, but he still being encouraging to Dayton.