Chapter Text
Lottie knew everything about the classification process. Growing up in silent offices and empty houses, she’d had nothing to do other than stick her nose in a book. She’d learnt all about the pill you had to take before and why it provided a clearer reading, she knew why a saliva swab was the most efficient way to tell, she understood the hormonal fluctuations and the evolutionary reasons for them. It didn’t make the whole process any less daunting. The clinic waiting room smelt of disinfectant poorly masked by lavender air freshener, and the walls were lined with brightly coloured informational posters - smiling faces of caregivers holding hands with littles and bright, bold letters. They were meant to be calming, she supposed - no matter the outcome, there are pathways for you! Except that wasn’t true for Lottie. There was one acceptable outcome in Mr. Matthews’ eyes. Either Lottie presented as a neutral today or she brought shame to the family name and ruined his chances at business deals, probably losing a couple hundred thousand of dollars that he didn’t even need. Mr Matthews hadn’t bothered to visit for his daughter’s birthday, but he’d made sure to send Marianna, his maid from back in NYC, all the way to Wiskayok just to ensure the latter did not happen. What he’d do if it did, Lottie wasn’t too sure.
“Charlotte Matthews,” the receptionist's voice rang out through the primarily empty waiting room. Marianna was up before Lottie even registered it, body and mind lagging slightly due to the stress racing through her veins. There was a shorter woman standing in the doorway - a clipboard held by her waist and lips pressed into a soft smile. She wore a sterile looking white doctor's coat and her light blonde hair was tucked back into a neat bun. She reminded Lottie of the first psychiatrist her parents took her too, Dr. Laurence, who first pumped her full of meds for numbing her brain and making the visions blurrier. The memory made Lottie’s skin crawl, and her stomach tighten. If she closed her eyes tight enough she was back there all over again - five years old and hearing her parents argue over whether or not they should just send her away. Lottie swallowed harshly, this wasn't the same. It wouldn’t end the same - because this time the outcome would be different, she would be what her parents wanted. “I’ll just get you to take a seat here Miss Matthews,” the doctor explained, guiding Lottie into a small medical office and onto the little bed lined with scratchy protective paper. Lottie knew doctor’s offices - she’d been in more than most people would in a lifetime, so she moved through this one with ease, pulling herself up onto the examination table and preparing for the poking and prodding to begin. “Mum, you can take a seat right there if you like,” she offered.
“I’m her father’s maid,” Marianna explained - and Lottie cringed internally, considering how ridiculous she seemed at 17 to be chaperoned by her dad’s maid. Plus - given the shiny new Rolex on her wrist, Lottie doubted she was just a maid. The doctor smiled politely,
“Well, it’s nice to meet you both - I’m Dr. Robert’s, I’m going to be doing your classification screening. I’m correct in saying you turned 17 today?” She asked. Lottie nodded, “an early bird, hm? Have any of your friends been classified yet?”
“A few,” she hummed politely. Tai had been a neutral, and Laura Lee a caregiver - neither of which surprised Lottie at all. There had been rumours of a girl in her maths class being classified as a little, but Lottie had never been one to play into gossip.
“Well, it’s nothing to be scared of. All I’ll be doing is two simple saliva samples, and you’ll just have to take one pill for me in between it-“ causes a involuntary relaxation of the pituitary gland, creating an increase of hormones to provide a clearer measure of your designation, Lottie wanted to say - but bit her tongue for the sake of manners. “Helps us get a better read of your classification.” She nodded politely. “Do you have any questions before we start?” Lottie didn’t have any - she’d spent years with her nose tucked in informational books and doctors office pamphlets, she had the whole system memorised. Though, in all that time she’d never paid much thought to what her own classification would be. Which only suggested she’d be a neutral right? Surely she’d have known if she was a caregiver or a little, something would’ve been flagged by her fifty million shrinks by now.
“I’ll take your base reading when you’re ready.”
Doctor Roberts was gentle enough, swiping the cotton swab around the inside of Lottie’s cheek. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable - Lottie had to resist from pulling away. She watched with interest as the swab was placed in the little vile of liquid and swirled around a bit. “This will just give us a base reading - if your levels go up you're a little, if they go down caregiver.”
“And neutral if they stay the same,” Lottie finished - knowing the process by heart.
Doctor Roberts smiled fondly, “you did some research?”
Lottie shrugged a little sheepishly, “I like to read.” That wasn’t strictly true - more than reading, Lottie liked to learn. Everything about anything. But her nerdy interests weren’t casual conversation and Marianna was already eyeing her from the plastic chair she sat in for impolite conversation or something of that nature. Doctor Roberts didn’t seem too fussed though, dropping the liquid onto the test tray to measure her natural hormone levels.
“Ok, I’ll just get you to take this for me,” she explained - turning around to hold out a small plastic cup with a blue pill in the middle and another with an inch of water. “Now, this will cause your hormones to fluctuate, whatever your classification is, will be more intense for 24 hours. If you're little, it’s more likely you’ll regress and if you're a caregiver you’ll feel an even stronger desire to care for any littles you’re near.” And if you are a neutral, you’ll walk away unscathed, Lottie thought to add, but no one needed to be warned about a best case scenario. She took the pill with ease, eager to get the process over with now so the feeling of her father breathing down her neck would go away. Even from whichever interstate board meeting he was in, Mr Matthews’ presence was never truly missing. “I’ll be back in ten minutes once it’s had time to set in.”
Once doctor Roberts left the room Lottie let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. In just a few minutes this would all be over. Lottie could go back and open the unnecessarily large pile of birthday presents her parents had sent in the post, and eat some of the chocolate cake Louella (her mother’s, and Lottie’s preferred, maid) had promised to make. It would be just like any other birthday as soon as this was all over.
Ten minutes seemed to stretch impossibly long. Lottie tried to pass it by reading the posters on the wall, but her mind felt too hazy to focus on them. Just the nerves she reminded herself, this is normal. Doctor Roberts finally returned, pulling her blue latex gloves back on and bearing a smile that at least passed for genuine. “Alright, let’s not leave you waiting anymore.” The process was the same as before, swab in Lottie’s mouth, then into the liquid, then onto the test tray. Lottie tried to follow along as best she could, but the more she tried the harder it became to focus. It’s only the nerves, she repeated like a mantra.
“Ok Miss Matthews, would you like to hear your classification alone - or can your friend stay,” Lottie wanted deeply to say alone - as she was always more comfortable - but it would only cause trouble.
“Marianna can stay.”
“Very well then,” Doctor Roberts nodded. The suspension felt almost suffocating. She’d never been scared of her classification, at least she’d never thought to be, until now.
“Ms Matthews, your classification is little.”
Lottie could feel Marianna’s eyes on her, she could feel her fathers eyes on her and he didn’t even know yet. She couldn't even begin to think about what her classification would mean for the rest of her life when she was instantly flooded with what it would mean for her parents.
Littles don’t get business deals, he’d always told her. Pointing out the more timid or little appearing people at the fancy dinners. Caregivers can sense it on them, and don't want to risk wasting their money on the dense ones.
He was going to be so angry. If the press caught wind of this - The successful Mr Matthews turning out a little daughter, it'd only bring squalor to the family name. “Charlotte? Are you alright?” Dr Roberts’ voice had softened, like just knowing Lottie was a little had made her be seen differently. Lottie was a little. The words tingled in her head - but they fit, she knew they fit and it made her sick to her stomach. “I’ll give you a minute to process.”
Lottie didn’t want a minute - she wanted to be out of here right now. Her throat was tight, her eyes burned. She wanted to curl up beneath her blankets and hide forever and ever. It’s not that there was anything wrong with being a little, strictly speaking. It was natural and normal, Lottie knew this. But still - as her eyes grew hazy and she grappled to fight back the tears - Lottie couldn’t rationalise this reason. He was going to send her away. She was broken, she was defective. A mistake of a child from a mistake of a marriage. “Charlotte?” It was doctor Roberts again, poking her head back into the office.
“Lottie, is fine,” she choked out, schooling her voice into sounding as polite as possible. Charlotte reminded her too much of her parents, which were the last people she wanted to think of right now. Lottie, reminded her of her friends. Her team. What would they think? It wasn’t like she could be kicked off the team for this, but surely they'd look at her differently. Would they trust she could still play properly? Would they spend every second waiting on her to have a tantrum, or an accident, or just start crying over nothing? Lottie didn’t think she could handle this if she lost her friends too.
Doctor Roberts had brought a bag in with her this time, similar to the diaper bags Lottie had seen in display windows and catalogues, though plain and grey in colour. “There are a few things I’d like to talk through before you head off, if that’s ok?” Lottie nodded even though she just wanted to leave - everything was easier when she was agreeable.
There wasn’t much Doctor Roberts told Lottie that she didn’t already know. A basic explanation of why people regressed, what to expect when she did, a professional smile and a promise that this changed nothing about who she was. It all went straight past Lottie, like water off a duck’s back. Her eyes shifted to Marianna - face tight and emotionless. She’d call her parents the second they got home, and then it would all be over for Lottie. “And here’s just a little bag - government issued, nothing special. It has a few basic supplies and resources you might want to take a look at.”
“Thank you,” Lottie smiled politely, taking the bag when it was offered and slipping off the examination table.
“You can call the clinic if you need anything,” Doctor Roberts assured as Lottie swiftly left the office - more eager than anything to get away from this whole experience. She was sure her father would call them in time.
The drive home was silent. Marianna sat beside Lottie in the back while the driver sat stoically as ever in the front seat. Did he know already? Did everyone? Could they all tell? Her whole body was flush with shame - she was letting everyone down again, just one more entry into the list of things that were wrong with her.
Finally home, but without any of the relief she’d anticipated, Lottie grabbed the bag she’d been given and hurried inside before any of the neighbours saw and they all realised too. She pried off her shoes at the door, wobbling slightly as she kicked them ungracefully into the shoe rack. It wasn’t like there was anyone home to scold her for it. Lottie felt like she was made of sandbags as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, her whole body was lagging and putting up a fight against her brain. Was this it? Was this regression?
Her room was just the same as it had been left, bed made neatly, presents still wrapped and nestled atop her dresser. She didn’t care to open them now, slinging the bag into her wardrobe out of the way of prying eyes and crawling onto her bed. As her head hit the pillow Lottie slammed her eyes shut - maybe, just maybe, if she wished hard enough this would all go away. It had never worked before. Not when she was five and diagnosed as crazy, or 14 and walked in on her father and his assistant. But just for now, she let herself hope, no matter how childish it was.
At some point someone came by to say her parents would arrive tomorrow, at another someone brought a tray of minestrone soup and chocolate cake, Lottie didn’t move for any of it. She let the soup go cold, curling in tighter on herself. It would all start again, psychs, specialists. The prodding and probing and declaring that she’s simply too broken. A story that never stopped looping. It was silly, but when the light in the room slipped away from the window, Lottie let her thumb slip into her mouth. Her ears burned at the action, but for just a little while in the cloak of night time Lottie’s brain finally quietened.