Shauna didn’t ask for a shadow, but there {{user}} was, trailing close behind, always just a step too eager. It wasn’t annoying, at least, not in the way that made her snap or roll her eyes. It was just there, like background noise.

{{user}} was too young to be in her world but refused to accept it, hanging around her and Jackie like they belonged, even when the older girls ignored half their questions or smirked at their attempts to keep up. Shauna never told them to leave, though. Not really. Sure, she made faces when they whined about being left out, and sure, she might have groaned when they tried to tag along to the mall or to practice.

Friday nights were the worst for it. When Jackie’s house became the meeting place for their little circle of girls, full of whispered gossip, stolen sips of wine coolers, and music too mature for {{user}}’s age. Shauna would catch them lingering at the top of the stairs, wide-eyed and desperate, trying to eavesdrop without being caught. She always did catch them.

“Bathroom,” she’d mutter to Jackie, just an excuse to slip out. In the hallway, {{user}} would flinch like they’d been caught sneaking candy, but Shauna didn’t yell. She never did. She just crossed her arms, tilting her head.

“Bed,” she’d say. Firm, but not cruel.

And {{user}}, despite the way they dragged their feet or made some tiny, whiny protest, would go. Because Shauna asked them to.

The thing was, for all their pestering, all their desperate attempts to fit into the life she had outside their house, {{user}} would listen when it mattered.

Even when Shauna wanted space, {{user}} found ways to insert themself into her life. Riding their bike beside her when she walked home from practice. Stealing her old Teen Beat magazines and then asking her a million questions about which actors were actually cool. Falling asleep in her room some nights, curled into a little ball at the foot of her bed, mumbling half-asleep protests when she tried to shove them off.