Hammel Thanksgiving (Open to All)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: This thread is open to all students who remained at the school during the long weekend, to all students who live locally, and to all staff who did not travel for the holiday. It occurs on Friday, November 29, 2019.))

Thanksgiving had always been one of the more difficult holidays at the Hammel Institute. The length of the break, less than a full week, made it difficult for students whose families lived farther away to go home, even if their families would welcome them. To say nothing of the exchange students or the ones from foster care, or who had been disowned upon manifesting their powers, or for other reasons lacked clearance to leave the campus. During summer and winter break, the dorms largely emptied of all but the less fortunate few with nowhere to return. Yet, at the end of November, invariably, closer to half the student body remained, and Hammel tried to accommodate them. They were a home of sorts, which meant that the children shouldn’t lack those creature comforts.

To better accommodate staff and children who lived more locally, the school hosted their celebration on Black Friday, paying the kitchen and maintenance staff overtime for their labor, and welcoming other faculty on more of a volunteer basis, to be compensated through free food and gift cards to begin their holiday shopping later that weekend.

Their decorations were inclusive, steadfastly avoiding any hint of pilgrims or smiling Indigenous people, or animals dressed in traditional garb and war bonnets. They focused instead on the harvest: pumpkins and corn, acorns and leaves of all shapes and shades, turkeys and reminders to give thanks and eat one’s fill.

The Hammel Institute took to heart that advice, transforming their cafeteria into a self-serve buffet, hot trays lining one wall, while the long rectangular tables had been covered in tablecloths, plaid squares in hues of browns, reds, and oranges. Paper and markers had been placed in center of each table beside Styrofoam pumpkins, a voluntary activity encouraging each student to list reasons for which they felt thankful, anything from new friendships or increased control over their powers to the first snowfall of the year or the particularly satisfying crunch of a leaf crushed under one’s shoe.

A few of the more athletic students had arranged a game of touch football, donning parkas and gloves while they ran around the field. Some of the more sedate ones had settled in the student lounge to play board games and watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, yet when the bell rang announcing that their meal was ready, they all filed in.

Both traditional and alternative accommodations were available: turkey in abundance, and a tray of vegetable lasagna for those who didn’t consume meat. Multiple types of stuffing and styles of potatoes. Green bean casserole and cranberry sauce and corn, dinner rolls and corn bread and biscuits to represent the different geographic regions of the United States under Hammel’s jurisdiction. Staff had been encouraged to share something special from home if they attended, and the Home Economics class had baked some of the pies for dessert.

A soda fountain had been set up, providing different flavors as well as apple cider and iced tea as a treat, while hot cocoa and hot cider were available by converting the machine used for coffee and tea during staff meetings.

Sean, who never partook in the frenzy of Black Friday, wore his favorite Thanksgiving sweater "gobble 'til you wobble" rather than his usual suit and tie. He sat in a chair by one of the tables designated for faculty, patiently waiting his turn; this was for the students, and it was only fair that they served themselves first.

There would be plenty left over when their plates were filled.

[James Fawcett]

This was the first Thanksgiving James had ever had away from home. For most of his life he'd descended with the rest of his clan upon his grandparents, a tradition that had tapered off as the cousins had spread their wings and flown away from south Georgia. Then it had been smaller gatherings with only his immediate family, maybe the grandparents if they weren't seeing a different family satellite that year. His parents didn't exactly understand his refusal to visit them this year, not even when he told them the holiday wasn't long enough for him to come visit and return to work in time. They'd tried to argue him into committing to Christmas, instead, but he'd refused that as well - he was playing with the church! Surely they could understand that. His mother had made noises about coming up with dad instead, because family was important.

He'd put his phone on Do Not Disturb for the remainder of the weekend. Perhaps that wasn't entirely fair, given that this meant it wasn't only his parents who couldn't reach him, but the thought of straight up blocking them made him nauseous.

Anxiety over this state of affairs remained in the back of his mind as he fidgeted in his seat, toying with the hem of the sweater he'd bought during his shopping trip with Cyrus. It was distinctly not a Christmas sweater, which felt a little weird. It was simply a standard cable crew neck in a color that had been listed on the tag as green but which James thought looked more teal. Either way, as Cyrus had expressed approval he'd bought it.

He sat close to the only Ettinger brother who had made it to the feast, brown eyes worried as he cast about for the other twin. "Just you today?" He asked, hoping this didn't mean the other one was ill.

[Josh Bernstein]

Josh had never been a fan of Black Friday, considering it a blight upon society. Or, more accurately, a symptom of everything that was wrong with capitalism. Even had he been more keen on a shopping frenzy he would have been hard put to pass up a feast with Sean, particularly as there was the promise if pie. Frankly, he would gladly take any pie at all, whatever was left after the students had devoured the flavors they considered the choicest.

He stood rather than sat by Sean, one hand on the back of Sean's chair. His sweater was less festive than his husbands, a simple blue that brought out his eyes - always one of his best features according to just about everyone he'd ever known, even when framed by thick glasses.

"Smells good," He commented approvingly. It wasn't precisely the same as a Bernstein thanksgiving, but it was the next best thing - so full of people that there were plenty of distractions from the tug of nostalgic grief that hung hollow in the back of his heart.

[Wayne Dietrich]

Wayne didn't often attend the Thanksgiving event at the school. When he wasn't driving on a Recruiting trip, the weather usually kept him indoors and at home. Snow and ice were even less friendly to his mechanical limbs than rain, and slipping at his age could prove deadly. But, the weather had cleared up just enough for him to manage coming by. Mostly, he knew this would likely be the last time he saw some of the students he'd recruited in years past before they finished their training and left, and the idea felt bittersweet.

Also forgoing the idea of a traditional holiday sweater, the mechanic instead wore a white knit turtleneck, thick jeans, thicker boots, and a sturdy leather vest. (With the cold weather, extra compression on his ribs was a better idea now than in the summer, due to joint pain side effects.) He had come with a hat, scarf, and his old Air Force leather jacket as well, though those all currently hung in the staff lounge with other outwear worn by the school's adult population.

He hadn't brought anything but himself and one of his old cars, a 1963 Chevy Impala coupe, which he had pulled into the lot closest to the cafeteria so the more mechanically inclined kids to chat him up about it and ask questions about the old muscle car. Wayne didn't mind; like the inquisitive minds. He'd gotten a few hits and popped the hood for them to explore before the meal bell rang, after which he closed up and promised another visit from the garage when the weather got better.

Now, he stood behind the buffet, mostly making sure kids didn't cut or roughhouse too close to the food. Wasn't hungry yet, but boy was he going to be soon. It smelled good.

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

One could be forgiven in this moment, watching Simon sit on the edge of his seat with the glimmer of panic in his downcast blue eyes, for believing that his power was precognition and he suffered from an intense premonition of danger that he struggled to articulate. Or that he was, instead, a shapeshifter and his side effects set him skittish, sensitive to the slightest sounds and scents, and he sensed a hawk overhead, or a fox poised to bounce from behind the buffet.

He practically drowned in the sweatshirt he wore, two sizes too large as though it was the Grinch’s heart at the end of his Christmas parable. The “red Player One” circle on his chest had begun to fade from frequent wash cycles, and the attire was downright embarrassing at his place of employment, but it was the first garment he grabbed after oversleeping, hastily shrugging on clean clothing while droplets dripped from his hair and once again he neglected to shave.

All he had wanted was to spend his afternoon eating leftovers from his brother’s Thanksgiving celebration the day before and watch whatever marathons aired on television while browsing the Target website for their Black Friday sales. Instead…he couldn’t recall how, precisely, he had been talked into signing up for this in the first place. Surely Cyrus had talked him into it with the promise of a fresh hot meal instead of relying on the microwave to warm leftover mashed potatoes that might have congealed in the refrigerator, or turkey that would heat unevenly and become as tough as shoe leather in some spots while still too cold in others. Or maybe it had been Doctor Neville, who was worried about you, and in an effort to appease your boss, you decided to attend - compensation for missing the Halloween dance because you wanted to be literally anywhere else that weekend but in an enclosed auditorium surrounded by teenage awkwardness and pubescent hormone rushes. Or James who was seated across from you right now, brow creased in concern because there remained only one of you, and despite missing you yesterday for the holiday, he was the wrong one.

Of course it should have been Cyrus, but his brother wasn’t a teacher at this school, wasn’t employed by Hammel at all, and it would have been unseemly for him to arrive in Simon’s stead. Not to mention unfair according to the terms of their agreement, taking two days in a row over a holiday was unheard of outside of Simon’s depressive bouts tethering him to his bed.

Whoever was responsible, he wanted to travel back in time and prevent himself from agreeing. Presently wanted to bolt for the door as soon as enough backs were turned towards the buffet to provide him cover and render his absence unnoticeable. Not that anyone might care in the first place, but for James who didn’t really want him here, and then maybe he could-

Stop it, Simon. There are real psychics here today.

Those with powers far stronger and better controlled than his were, who could surely feel his every emotional shift and hear his every uncharitable thought, and he had to push them away. What was it the cryokinetic sang in that Disney movie? Conceal don’t feel.

Conceal, don’t feel.

The lie came easily enough, the same story he used whenever Cyrus was expected somewhere or other that his brother couldn’t make an appearance. “Cyrus had a client meeting,” he mumbled into his chin. “He, uh, he asked me to tell you that he had a great time yesterday.”

[Vincent Meian]

If there was a holiday at the Hammel Institute, chances were far better than average Vincent Meian cooked for it.

While not a professional chef by any stretch of the imagination, the Japanese trainer had an affinity for cooking that went beyond simply taking care of his family. Though, given that no one else in his family could cook with any degree of edibility, perhaps that was for the better. He found cooking to be a relaxing thing, as so did so at every opportunity. Combined with his interest in religious services and cultural traditions, it made for... interesting holiday treats throughout the year.

Still, in this country, he primarily added dishes from his homeland to any sort of offerings on display. It took some getting used to, as the preferred flavors in the United States were different from Japan by a great degree, but in the end, things still ended up getting eaten.

This year, he had made a traditional autumn dish for Thanksgiving dinner at the school; oden, a simple and light soup to cut through the rich oily flavors of potatoes and turkey. Though normally he would have made it in much smaller batches, Vincent had a decent amount of practice making meals for large groups and thus had prepared more than enough for the students and staff in attendance. Two shallow but wide pots of stock, one for serving traditionally and the other fish-free for those with allergies, clearly marked and served with separate utensils. In wire baskets hooked over one half of each pot sat the ingredients, skewered for easy grabbing during the buffet rush. Potatoes, daikon radish, carrots, mushrooms, small quail's eggs, and a variety of tofu were available for both, as well as chicken for one and fish cakes for the other. Seasonal greens, kept cool and raw to be steamed by the soup on command, rested on plates near the pots of stock, along with soup cups from the cafeteria.

In addition, Japanese-style steamer boxes were also brought, still sealed tight to prevent their treasures from getting cold. They would be opened one at a time for dessert, revealing round amber globes of fruit; honey-steamed Asian pears with jujube centers, and fresh seasonal apples steamed with cinnamon sticks. Because Hammel with its variety of powers with his blood sugar requirements should have a multitude of desserts.

Though he didn't partake in the holiday obsession with crazy sweaters, Vincent did at least change up his usual color scheme a little for the holiday with a cranberry red button up shirt, with sleeves rolled to the elbows as per usual to keep them from getting dirty during the cooking process. He said hello to each of the members of staff he saw, and encouraged his younger daughter to make friends with any student she came across. (Not that Cassi wouldn't have anyway; she was too bright and cheerful to contain, and loved talking with people about anything under the sun... and some topics beyond.)

Like Sean and Wayne, Vincent kept away from the line to allow the students the first chance to eat. He did mingle, however, and helped the cafeteria staff replace empty dishes with full ones as needed. Rolls, apparently, were in high demand this year.

[Micah and Moses Grey]

The Grey family Thanksgiving has always been two parts for as long as Micah and Moses could remember. The day started off to the smell of Dad and Grandma making fresh cinnamon buns for breakfast. Though Dad was usually the disciplinary of the two fathers, around the holidays he always got caught up in the spirit of things and spent most of the time making some sort of sweet treat in the kitchen. Plus the early load of sugar helped all of the kids get through the prep work for the festivities. 

After breakfast, the whole crew would squash into the kitchen, preparing not only lunch for the Grey family (usually something light - which their older brother Mason referred to as "a stomach stretcher" - but also three or four dishes to bring to the Hammel Thanksgiving. 

Getting everyone showered, dressed, and out the door was a feat on a good day. Tossing in the chaos of Thanksgiving only made things all the more crazy.

Micah and Moses loved every minute of it. This was when living in such a large family really made them excited. Everyone rushing around, thirteen voices all talking at the same time to get in a word. It was perfection.

Somehow everything got made, mouths were fed, and everyone made it out the door. 

It wasn't an unusual scene to see the Grey family descend upon Hammel. After all, with the kids getting to choose if they wanted to be at home, every morning a group of them made the ride to the school. Usually they could all fit in one van. Today they had four cars though, all of the non-powered kids, and of course Grandma. They all piled out. Some of them heading straight for the football game. Some bee-lining for friends. Others dropping of dishes at the tables. Everywhere you looked there was a Grey or two. All of them in Thanksgiving sweaters, knit with yarn the color of fall leaves, that Grandma had made for them.

Micah and Moses, each carrying a skateboard tucked under one arm and holding a bag of Hawaiian Rolls, ran to the table to drop them off and check out the food table. True, they'd just eaten not too long ago. But also true, someone usually made an amazing peanut butter pie that they were planning to make sure they each got a heaping slice of. 

The pair waved in unison at Mr. Meian, but tried their best to keep from any actual conversation just in case he decided that the holidays were an okay time to bring up their power training. They avoided eye contact with Dr. Neville, but couldn't help but noticed that even he seemed to be in the spirit of the season. Micah chuckled at the old man's sweater and Moses started grinning. 

After checking on the status of the holy grail of desserts, they joined the line of other students, making sure that their brother Marco was in line next to them. It wasn't often that they got to hang on campus with him and they wanted to make sure he didn't get too left behind. 

[James Fawcett]

James was disappointed by Cyrus's absence. He looked forward to the time they spent together, wanted to soak up the other man's warmth like sunshine. It was disappointing that he wasn't there, but Simon's company was welcome if not with the same level of wistful attraction. Or, really, any attraction. Kinship, maybe.

The message delivered brought a smile to his face. "Great! I did, too. So uhh. D'you like deviled eggs? I have some back at the apartment if they somehow vanish before we get to the buffet."

He didn't know if Yankees liked deviled eggs, but back home they would all be eaten in about five seconds if there were any less than about four eggs per person. And even then it was doubtful there would be any left at the end of the day, unlike the turkey and the stuffing and the different casseroles, which might last the whole week.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“It does.” Nothing could compare with a family Thanksgiving, particularly with the Bernsteins who had informally adopted Sean as one of their own, inviting him to holidays, religious events, and other celebrations. He had attended a couple of Thanksgiving suppers with them, after his estrangement with Kathleen left him adrift. Then he had fallen into the habit of hosting himself, offering food and friendship to those with nowhere else to go, who couldn’t travel home, or who, like Greg, no longer had family to visit.

This year had been a small gathering, Josh and Sean, Greg, a few others who made a potluck of it, with the turkey as the centerpiece and more desserts than there were guests.

Hammmel was full of life, which did Sean’s heart proud, while the aromas set his stomach to rumble.

Soon enough.

“Did you see the chocolate fountain?” He pointed at the dessert table where the Student Activities Club investment was prominently displayed. They would make back their money and more with how often they intended to make use of it. “If I didn’t want to try some of the bisque, I’d start there instead.”

[SeaNPC]

Poppy Brewer

Going home to California for Thanksgiving was basically impossible. Airfare was prohibitively expensive, especially when she had to return Sunday anyway, and other forms took too long. Driving would take a whole week, and train time would cut that in half, but she would still have to leave Monday at dawn to arrive home before the turkey had been picked clean. It wasn’t easy, with the dorms emptying, and Junior going to Connecticut.

He had offered in the spur of the moment to take her along, but that would be awkward. He’d mentioned the…well, she didn’t know how to describe it but the competitive atmosphere sounded awful, and they weren’t engaged or anything, just dating a little. That wasn’t really appropriate, to bring your 14-year-old girlfriend home for Thanksgiving.

So she had stayed on campus. One of the dorm monitors had family in Burlington and had given her a ride yesterday, dropping her off at a soup kitchen where she volunteered for a few hours, and then they cleaned up and ate leftovers. She and Junior texted throughout the day, and once she got back to her dorm room with some money for takeout, she was able to Skype her family. It wasn’t the same at all, but it was something.

And it meant she could come to the big feast today, which was a bigger plus.

Poppy had arrived, all smiles, and waved at each of the teachers she passed before joining the other students in line. Unlike some of the others, her attention was drawn to the vegetable dishes, fingers itching to get her hands on sweet potatoes and lasagna. She found herself beside some of the Grey clan, and she grinned warmly. “Hey guys.” She lifted a plate and held it close to her chest while waiting to approach the table. "Did you have a good time yesterday?”

[Micah and Moses Grey]

The boys were starting to load up their plates, careful to leave room for dessert, when Poppy popped up behind them. For a second her question threw them. Yesterday?

Unlike most families, the Grey family didn't do much on actually Thanksgiving day, prefering instead to just toss everything at Friday when Hammel had their dinner. It made it easier not having to cook enough to feast for all of the family and since half of the kids were Hammel students anyway, they just kinda merged everything into a huge massive thing. 

"We worked on winterizing our tree house!" Micah said, once he figured out what day was what.

"Though Dad vetoed the idea to put in a chiminea," Moses added with a sigh. With the expressions on their faces, one would think their dad had taken away Christmas.

[Dr. Nakia Kenjutsushi]

"I can see why," a familiar voice said from behind the twins, amused and lightly accented. "You two see me enough already; no need to add more excuses due to fire."

The school physician, Dr. Nakia Kenjutsushi, stood behind the trio of students with a warm smile, arms crossed over her chest. Forgoing her normal lab coat for the event, the pale woman had instead opted for light ash-grey slacks and a white turtleneck, with a navy blue cardigan to keep her warm in spite of her side effects. Unlike in the Infirmary, here her sternness was relaxed and joking. She looked to Poppy and smiled as well, removing any last trace of chiding from her bearing. "Miss Brewer, how was your Thanksgiving day?"

The Meian family's had been a small affair, mostly comprised of her husband testing recipes and using up ingredients before tomorrow's trip to Burlington to resupply their food stores. Local American ingredients could be found at the supermarket, of course, but the nearby tiny metropolis had the only Asian grocer in reasonable driving distance. The family typically went twice a month, and had seen Poppy around volunteering on more than one occasion.

[Simon and Cyrus Ettinger]

Simon felt it all. He might be little more than a middling telepath, but he was a strong - if limited - empath, emotions so often overwhelmed him. And unlike some others who shared his power, groups were easier for him, because the emotions scattered along a dozen, a hundred, different paths with every shift. Focused intensity of any type, he was strong enough to feel them but hardly so capable of protecting himself.

Admiration, attraction, and disappointment all radiated from James. Really, the disappointment was caused by the other two, and how the object of his affection was absent while this impostor wore his face and body seated across from him.

Not today. No, he wouldn’t succumb to this melancholy until he had safely escaped the campus.

What was James saying now? Some sort of small talk. Deviled eggs?

Right, the buffet had been equal-parts potluck and prepared by their very own cafeteria staff.

Simon dragged his hand across the lower half of his face, palm rested over his mouth and chin, muffling his next words. “They’re good.” A staple of most Midwestern potlucks, he had eaten more than his share over the course of his life.

But that was an overture, and he didn’t want to leave James in the lurch, aware of how equally awkward the other man was in social situations. “We-” He moved his hand away, elbow now resting on the table while he leaned his cheek against his palm. “-made buckeyes. They’re back home too.”

[SeaNPC]

Poppy Brewer

“That sounds fun,” Poppy enthused, referring to the tree house rather than a chimney, which struck her as dangerous even for a couple of boys more responsible than the Greys, like, like Junior. She would trust him with a chimney but it still seemed like a bad idea.

Thoughts of her boyfriend caused her heart to beat a little faster. Reflexively, she patted her bag for her phone, just in case it was vibrating from a text message and missed it, but alas, it was still and silent.

The line slowly snaked forward, and she took a step closer to the buffet.

She spun around at the sound of Dr. Kenjutsushi’s voice, returning the smile with a bright one of her own. Her experiences with their on-call doctor were basically uniformly positive. A few times for help with managing side effects, her yearly physicals, and one time with an ear infection. She found the doctor’s presence soothing, different from her mother, but nice all the same.

”It was good! The soup kitchen had a lot of guests, which is always sad, but I’m glad we were able to give them a good meal. And my parents called, so I got to talk to them too.”

[Josh Bernstein]

"You think I might not notice a chocolate fountain?" Josh asked, his question accompanied by a lighthearted laugh. "I'm not that blind yet!" 

Blind enough that his glasses were sure to fog up when he went to stand in the buffet line, but even blurry vision couldn't prevent him from noticing the fountain that was clearly the pride and joy of tonight's festivities. Or at least the dessert portion, surrounded by the more standard pies and plates of cookies and what Josh thought looked like some sort of casserole and...a few desserts he couldn't put name to. 

Possibly the results of some of Hammel's cross-cultural students. 

The turkey was the more prominent display but he didn't need vision to know that was available. 

"What was it that Mr. Meian brought in? It smelled amazing."