After bundling back up to brave the winter weather, Tabitha joined Officer Macintire for a walk back down the street to the bus stop. What should have been a casual and thoughtless endeavors was instead made excruciating by Tabitha’s overactive imagination and self-consciousness. She knew by now, at least somewhat, how to act around her peers—other teenages her age. It was rough realizing she had no clue how to act around adults.

No! Not how to act around adults, Tabitha corrected herself. I’m cool with Mrs. Macintire. I’m fine around Mrs. Williams and her husband! It’s just… context, I guess. I’m slowly but surely coming to grips with treating Mrs. Macintire as a mom, and that WORKS because she’s a great mom. She’s great! But, is this dude trying to be a father figure to me? Is that how this works?! Is he a good dad? Probably! I guess. I don’t know.

Dwelling on the meaning of fatherhood was a real weird thing to ruminate on as they walked down the sidewalk together, Tabitha leading by a few feet but taking care not to get too far ahead. Officer Macintire was pacing himself and taking it slow and steady. How did he compare to her actual father, Mr. Moore?

They DON’T compare, Tabitha wanted to be huffy about it, but instead a wave of melancholy fell over her. No, that’s probably not fair. I don’t know. I don’t know!

Officer Macintire has more of a sense of humor. He’s a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Shameless? Like, he can THROW MONEY at toys for Hannah, and then laugh about how much he’s spoiling her. My dad… fundamentally is just not capable of that. I guess Officer Macintire is a bit of a braggart? But, in a chuckle about it sort of way? That definitely stands out—I feel like my dad isn’t a boastful person. In fact, I guess dad always sort of went out of his way to be humble? He’s always about that ascetic SIMPLE life. Which… I guess I grew up resenting him for.

Officer Macintire had cop buddies he socialized with regularly, he went hunting, he loved cheesy action movies. He had interests and hobbies—Tabitha had felt perplexed on several occasions over dinner hearing the man go on about some vintage car he’d seen listed in Auto Trader. Was that normal?! The differences between him and her dad seemed jarring, and made Tabitha start to think she had no idea who her dad really was.

Does my dad have hobbies? Besides uhh, just watching TV, I guess? Tabitha pondered with a frown. What does he do for fun? I have no clue. What are his interests—uhh, no idea. Goals? Nada, as far as I know. Friends or acquaintances? Not that I know of, really. He’s just… THERE. Existing in some sort of vacuum, removed from general social mores. So—what’s the deal with him? Is he just an agreeable simpleton who never wanted or expected much out of life? Well, agreeable right up until you question FAMILY, I guess. Does questioning family break the illusion for him, is that what’s going on? Has he just invested a ton of himself into this idea that he’s a simple FAMILY MAN, like that idea has become his identity? But, like—WHY? If he’s supposedly so into—

“Penny for your thoughts?” Darren Macintire laughed under his breath, making the motion to grope through his pockets for change. “Ah, shoot. I thought I had some on me—Hannah always makes me pay up when I say that.”

“Hah, um—” Tabitha blushed at realizing her mind had wandered off into her own little world of thoughts.

“I’m just sayin’, that’s a mighty big frown, for someone tryin’ to tell me she had an okay first day at school,” He said, sizing her up with a small smile. “Something happen? Did somebody say something? Or, hell, I don’t know.”

“No, it’s,” Tabitha let out a laugh that hung in the air as vapor for a moment. “It’s stupid. I got to thinking about—family, I guess. Trying to figure out what’s ‘normal,’ what’s—I don’t know. Different.”

“Ah, yeah,” Officer Macintire nodded to himself. “Definitely somethin’ you start thinkin’ ‘bout more and more when life takes you to some unexpected places.”

“Yeah,” Tabitha agreed.

They arrived together at the street corner where the bus stopped, and then awkwardly stood to wait. She was used to waiting here by herself to pick up Hannah, and when she was alone here she didn’t have to worry if she was standing weird, or think about what to do with her hands, or force out small talk.

“Well, I sure know how that is,” Darren shrugged. “I’d never been shot before! For a hot minute there, life felt like it was comin’ at me pretty fast. Or, maybe ‘life’ isn’t the word for it, hah! Then, it’s weeks and weeks and weeks of bein’ stuck in hospital beds, wondering how the hell life took me there. Getting impatient, starting to try to look back and second-guess every little detail. The more I tried to go back and focus on all those exact little details, the less it felt like I was even remembering any of it right.”

“Oh! Yes—I know exactly what you mean!” Tabitha felt herself grin. “It’s—yeah.”

“Little details do come back to me,” the man wore a rueful smile. “Or like, certain things stand out. Like—the guy was barefoot! I remember that. He looked like he hadn’t showered in a while, guy was all haggard.”

“He was barefoot, wasn’t he?” Tabitha remembered. “I think I did notice that—I saw him running back to his car. After—uhh. Yeah. Who drives without shoes? That’s weird.”

“I kept tellin’ everyone at the station I had some kinda sixth sense about the guy, like I knew he was trouble right off the bat,” Darren recounted. “But, that’s a buncha bull, hah. Us cops, we do got a sixth sense, but it’s like—like we’re, I dunno, lookin’ for easy marks. Someone I can pull over today, so there’s somethin’ to report. So that it’s not like I’ve gotta tell my boss that nope, I was just sittin’ in the cruiser relaxin’ all day.”

Tabitha wore a bemused smile at hearing that, but let him continue without comment.

“It was just a routine stop,” Officer Macintire shrugged. “I don’t even really remember what in particular made me want to pull him over. Usually it’s like, shitty driving, you know? Good excuse to hassle someone, there’s all kinds of bad drivers out there. Trying to make some weird abrupt turn without signaling, seein’ people speed up just to keep other people from changing lanes where they want to. Tailgating—everyone around here drives a bit over the speed limit, but when you’re doin’ it while tryin’ to give sloppy kisses to the bumper of the guy in front of you? No way, jose. Not on my watch.

“But, thing is,” Officer Macintire swallowed. “I just completely don’t remember what I even stopped the guy for. I remember he was pissed, he like, I think he was one of those that you know, smacked his wheel and musta cussed somethin’ awful right when he saw me flash my lights at him. You do get that. I don’t really recall actually pulling him over or much of talkin’ to the guy—all of that’s super routine, done it all a thousand times. I remember he was barefoot. Don’t remember seein’ you or that other girl playing over by the trailer park, I guess I didn’t really register you two at all.

“I think I remember him pulling a gun on me,” Officer Macintire admitted. “But, after the fact it’s all kind of hazy. Been over and over it with the counselor and everyone, trying to get the statement right, and everything. I feel like it’s gotten to where I can’t tell if I’m remembering the moment, or if I’m imagining it anymore. Did I freeze up? I don’t know for sure. I feel like I must have—and that scares the shit out of me. Was there just no time to react? I’m not sure anymore. It’s like, it all just happened so fast, and everything was over before my brain was really catchin’ up to what was goin’ on.”

“I-I know what you mean,” Tabitha stammered. “Just, um, just myself with what happened at that Halloween party—it all happened so fast. She was just suddenly swinging at me. I, um, I remember I had my arms up in front of my face, and the bat hit my cast, and I was just thinking how stupid I was to put my injured hand up in front of me. But, that’s just it. I wasn’t thinking, it was just reflex. There wasn’t any time to think. At all.”

“Yeah,” Officer Macintire blew out a long breath, watching it fog in the air and then disperse. “Shit. Yeah.”

Are we—are we BONDING?! Tabitha felt like all of the blood in her body was rushing towards her face. Just like that? Bonding over shared, uh, or I guess SIMILAR experiences? That was so easy and normal! Why was I overthinking everything? He, well, he just sensed there was a weird atmosphere between us, so he started talking, and then it wasn’t weird anymore.

It had perhaps been a long day with too many social interactions.

I’m—yeah. UGGHH, Tabitha smiled to herself and made a point to study the street in the distance as if in search of Hannah’s bus. It’s embarrassing how bad I am at this. I was doing so well today with everyone at school. Didn’t have any real HOW DO YOU DO, FELLOW TEENS moments. But then, Daddy McDadfather here gets all paternal on me, and I’m just thrown through this total loop. Do I have daddy issues? I guess I knew I did, and then all that’s been exacerbated by dad being so stupid about the whole LISA thing. Normally he was never even really like that, I always thought of him as pretty non-confrontational. When—oh! It’s the bus. Thank God it’s here, I started THINKING again.

The diesel rumble of the yellow schoolbus approaching down the suburban street was a sight for sore eyes, and Tabitha hopped up to the edge of the curve as if lining up to board. There were colorful children’s jackets and little faces visible through the row of windows, and the elementary kids were loud. The indistinct chatter of dozens of kids was at enough volume to compete with the sound of the bus engine when it pulled close, and Tabitha wondered if the driver had to yell at this group to keep it down.

People talked on the high school bus, but we weren’t like, LOUD, Tabitha thought to herself. Never really noticed it before today. I guess us older kids are just more chill?

The door opened with a rattle and a squeak, and after a few moments several kids trooped down the stairs and off the bus. Hannah was adorable in her little blue coat and her backpack, and today Tabitha had no restraint. She immediately crouched down and opened her arms wide for a hug. The seven-year-old obliged, running forward and almost bowling her over.

“Daddy!” Hannah was surprised to see him out here to pick her up. “Are you allowed outside the house?!”

“O’course I am, Tabitha gave me permission,” Officer Macintire teased. “Hey, you got a hug for me?! Why’s Tabby gettin’ all the love?!”

“Yeah I guess,” Hannah released Tabitha and then ran face first into hugging her father’s legs.

Oof, Tabitha winced, trying not to laugh. Does she think she can do that just because she’s wearing a padded jacket?!

Tabitha tried to remember the last time she’d given her father a hug, but her mind came up blank. Had she rushed over to greet her dad right off the bus, ever? She wasn’t sure. Those younger childhood memories were too far away now, and like Officer Macintire had said—she couldn’t tell anymore what was memory and what was just her imagination.

“Can you pick me up?” Hannah slapped at the man’s legs.

“Ooh, you know—I don’t think I can now, on account o’ all my grievous injuries I’m just now startin’ to recover from,” the man tousled her hair instead. “Let’s maybe give it five or six years. Plus, you know—you’re not little, anymore. You weigh what, some six hundred pounds?”

“Yep! Six hundred pounds, exactly,” Hannah agreed, squirming out of her backpack straps with difficulty and then shoving her bookbag in his arms before rejoining Tabitha. “You had school?”

“I did! My first day back,” Tabitha wore a wry smile at how the girl had zero compunctions foisting off her pack on her father like that. “It was good. Everyone was nice, I maybe made new friends.”

“Good!” Hannah nodded in approval. “I told you everything would be fine. I told you. But actually? I was really really worried everyone was gonna be super mean.”

“Hannah Banana,” Tabitha hugged the little girl again and then rose to her feet. “Has anyone ever told you that you have zero filter?”

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A frazzled and somewhat heavyset red-haired woman trudged up the porch steps to her trailer park trailer and fumbled in confusion with the doorknob of a locked door. Mrs. Moore wasn’t used to their mobile home being locked—she had almost always been home, and so locking up everything was rarely necessary. The key she’d prepared this morning was rediscovered in her coat pocket, she went through the unpracticed motions of unlocking her own front door, and then finally opened it and bustled inside.

Their home was empty and felt cold and unfamiliar.

As if attempting to ward off ill omens or bad luck, she hurried to turn on all of the lights, and their television set was flicked on with an angry press of the remote to create some noise. She hurried down the hallway to the master bedroom as if being chased, and with frantic motions her coat and work apron and then dress shirt were discarded and one of her normal dingy oversized shirts was pulled on. Since starting to exercise and eat better she had lost eighteen pounds, but weight loss plateaued now that her pregnancy was starting its second trimester. As a result her body felt altogether like a stranger to her, nothing she wore was as she was accustomed to, and it only magnified the eerie wrongness she just couldn’t shake.

When she returned down the hallway and checked the fridge out of habit, Shannon looked at the unappetizing contents for several long seconds with a mixture of hunger and nausea before closing the door again. She reopened the door—and stared again at tupperware containers and the assortment of wrapped dishes. Reaching in and rummaging them around didn’t reveal anything she particularly wanted to eat, and with a growing sense of disappointment and unease she slowly closed the door again and retreated to the safety and comfort of the sofa.

She wanted to see Tabitha, but even the presence of her husband would do right now. Someone, anyone. Sudden and alarming loneliness struck like a soundless bolt of lightning. Experiencing her first day at work had been agonizing, the hours on the clock had felt like entire days, she longed for somebody to vent to about it, while also at the same time she didn’t want to talk or think about it at all. Ever. There was simply a need to mentally and emotionally decompress after the incredibly stressful work shift, but she found herself still too wound up about it all to actually relax back into her old stay-at-home routine.

Commercials played without her seeing them, and with the remote clutched in a white-knuckled grip, the channel changed from Cuba Gooding Junior enthusiastically endorsing Pepsi One to an aircraft cabin of skydivers onward to the proceedings of reality courtroom show Judge Judy. Frustrated, she thumbed the button again to reveal a computer animated Pillsbury doughboy tottering in front of a bag of bread on a kitchen counter, and with a scowl Shannon switched stations again and again and again, watching smiling people and products pass by one after another in a faded haze until she finally settled on one of the daytime soaps she recognized.

But, she couldn’t focus her attention on the rudimentary plot of Guiding Light today at all. Nor was she really even recalling the events of her shift at Food Lion. She just felt muddle-headed and anxious. Her feet ached from standing all day, so she didn’t try to get up and reach their handset phone.

Who would I even talk to? Mrs. Moore let out a bitter laugh. What would I even say? Who would CARE?

Working as a grocery cashier was an everyday ordinary easy job, wouldn’t Laurie sigh with exasperation if she tried to call her up and complain? If she bothered Alan at work, what would he have to say about anything she’d just gone through? He had been working full time as a general contractor for years, for over a decade. How could he treat her seriously if she tried to talk to him about her time at some cushy indoor minimum wage job? They had argued about it enough already, and she knew what he would say—he would tell her to just quit if she didn’t like it.

But, I can’t, Shannon Moore felt wet lines roll down her face as she quietly cried. I can’t, I can’t. I CAN’T give up. Not with just this. Not like this.

“Ungphhh—” She chuffed out a sob as she smeared the back of her hand against her face.

Twisting from where she sat on the couch cushions, Mrs. Moore stared through her tears at the handset dock for the phone, because she wanted more than anything just to call the Macintires, to simply hear her daughter’s voice. But she couldn’t—she didn’t dare to call her. Tabitha went back to school today, she surely had her own worries and troubles to deal with in spades. What would Tabitha think of her, if she couldn’t even manage to handle this?

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“Well, how was it?!” Mrs. Macintire asked, tossing her purse aside on the kitchen table in her haste to check on Tabitha and Hannah. “How was going back to school?!”

“It was fine! Everything was fine,” Tabitha reported with a wry smile from the living room sofa. “No complaints.”

“Did you have Elena in any of your classes?” Mrs. Macintire interrogated. “Or Alicia? Any of your friends? Was anyone mean to you? Did anyone say anything?!”

“I um,” Tabitha chuckled, leaning back from where she’d been watching Hannah’s Gameboy Color screen. “I got to see them before classes started, and then again at lunch? Oh—Bobby is in my first period one, uh. Personal Fitness. I maybe made some new friends? A few girls. They were nice-ish?”

“Thank God,” Sandra dropped heavily onto the couch beside them and started wrestling off her shoes. “I was so worried. All day I was thinking about you!”

“I was, too!” Hannah chirped, not looking up from her Pokemon battle.

“You were not, you brat,” Mrs. Macintire griped, trying to reach over to muss her daughter’s hair.

“I was so!” Hannah argued with a laugh, dodging back to press herself against Tabitha. “I didn’t even want her to go back to school. She coulda just stayed at home! I wouldn’t go to school, if I didn’t have to.”

“Going back to school is something I needed to do,” Tabitha sighed. “Needed to—well—get back on the horse. So that I don’t worry about what I’m missing out on. All the school things. Getting to know people, socializing. Learning facts and stuff.”

“Facts and stuff,” Hannah repeated with a giggle.

“Too true, too true,” Mrs. Macintire agreed. “Hard to flirt with boys when she’s stuck here by herself all day.”

“Tabitha doesn’t flirt with boys,” Hannah huffed. “No way.”

“Ewww, BOYS,” Tabitha teased. “Gross, right?”

“Gross,” Hannah nodded. “Super gross.”

“Stuck here by herself, whaddya mean stuck here by herself?!” Officer Macintire groused, his voice carrying all the way over from the bedroom. “What am I, chopped liver?!”

“I kindly asked Tabitha not to flirt with you, honey,” Sandra yelled back, rolling her eyes before lowering her voice to confide with the girls upon the couch. “Because man oh man, trust me you do not even want to get him started.”

“I heard that!” Her husband protested.

“He wore a shirt today, at least,” Tabitha gave the woman a wincing smile.

“All by himself?!” Mrs. Macintire’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise.

“Yeah,” Hannah nodded. “He walked out to the bus stop today.”

“All by himself?” Mrs. Macintire’s facade dropped that time and she was speaking with genuine concern.

“I’m not crippled!” The voice from across the house was full of indignation.

“No, no—I walked with him, we both went out to pick up Hannah,” Tabitha assured her. “We were both bundled up! He took it slow. Everything was fine.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Macintire hummed. “Hmmmmm.”

“Hmmmm,” Hannah imitated. “Does this mean um, that he’s basically all better, now?”

“Well,” Mrs. Macintire sighed but wore a contented smile. “We’ll see, kiddo. We’ll see.”

“Because…” Hannah put on a mighty pout, “He wouldn’t even pick me up and carry me!”

“Oh my goodness,” Mrs. Macintire shook her head. “He wouldn’t even carry you?!”

“He wouldn’t,” Hannah said. “He just made excuses.”

“How about, once the doctor says I’m cleared for physical activity again, I can carry you?” Tabitha proposed. “I’ll be able to give you piggyback rides. Or, I could even show up at the bus stop with your new bike! That way, you could just ride it home.”

“Oh, please,” Mrs. Macintire laughed. “God forbid my little girl would have to walk fifty or sixty feet down the street, on her own two legs.”

“How much longer for your doctor’s appointament?” Hannah asked.

“Appointment, and, just a few more days,” Tabitha said. “Then, hopefully the cast comes off and I can start running in the mornings again. I haven’t played tag with my cousins for months and months, already! Or exercised much at all. I’m getting all fat and flabby just sitting around with nothing to do.”

“You’re not fat,” Hannah snorted. “And—you’ve gotta play with me, not your cousins. They’re boys.”

“They’re my boys,” Tabitha chided her. “I missed them. Oh! And, I did want to visit in on them and see how their Pokemon are coming along. And maybe borrow one of their beach towels.”

“Beach towels?” Mrs. Macintire asked.

“Yeah—we need to bring in individual towels at school, for the locker room,” Tabitha explained. “I know my cousins each got their own different Ninja Turtles towels, that they never ever wound up even using. I think they all just got chucked in storage somewhere.”

“I have a cool towel you can use!” Hannah volunteered. “It’s Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. Way better than stupid Ninja Turtles. Mom, where did you put my—”

“Hey hey hey, we can buy Tabitha her own brand new beach towel, how about that?” Sandra’s eyes lit up. “We can go shopping!”

“Noooo, no no no, no we can’t!” Tabitha covered her face in embarrassment. “We were just shopping again yesterday! Hannah don’t give her any more excuses to go shopping!”

“What do you think, Hannah?” Mrs. Macintire ignored Tabitha’s plight. “New beach towels, for sure. Bathing suits? Tabitha, come to think of it do you even have—”

“It’s January!”

“We should see if they have Pokemon ones,” Hannah suggested, not looking up from her game. “Towels. Like, Pikachu.”

“If she doesn’t wanna borrow a girly Aladdin one, we have our awesome Corona Extra one—” Officer Macintire offered from across the house. “Our big towel. Be way cooler with all the high school kids if—”

“Hon, I don’t think she should bring a towel with a beer brand on it to high school!” Mrs. Macintire hollered back. “Good grief, she’s fourteen!”

“No, I know, that’s exactly why all the other kids’ll think it’s so damned cool—”

“La la la can’t hear you, ‘cause we’re going shopping!” Mrs. Macintire rebutted. “What do you say, girls? Shopping, and then maybe McDonald’s to celebrate?!”

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To Tabitha’s dismay, Mrs. Macintire insisted on taking them out on a ‘quick’ shopping trip to K-mart for a nice towel, where Sandra and Hannah combed up and down the aisle analyzing and debating the design of each and every beach towel on display—arguing over them as if locker room towel choice was a critical fashion statement where Tabitha could not afford any faux pas.

“How about this one?”

“Ugh mom no, that one’s too boring.”

“Too boring? Hmmm. You don’t think it’s cute?”

“It has to be cool.”

There aren’t even really that many choices! Tabitha thought with a wry smile. I guess Hannah just was not okay with me mentioning I might use a NINJA TURTLE one, because that’s a BOYS thing, and BOYS BAD.

As a result, Tabitha was presented with Tweety Bird and Scooby Doo beach blankets that Mrs. Macintire thought would be cool, while Hannah was pushing for her to pick a Quest for Camelot towel that was from an animated movie Tabitha had never even heard of. Although there were several Barbie ones, to her surprise Hannah didn’t think them appropriate for a high schooler, insisting they were ‘too girly.’ Which led Tabitha to wonder—were high school teens not supposed to be too girly?

Why such a big fuss in the first place? Tabitha hid her bafflement with a look of amusement. I know Coach Baylor said we should pick something with a design on it, but wasn’t that just so we can differentiate whose is whose?! They’re treating it as though it’s a blouse or a purse or something people will be judging me for.

In any case, Star Wars and Batman towels were directly vetoed by Hannah as being for lame and stupid and ‘for boys,’ which altogether eliminated all of the viable options available at the K-mart. Rugrats, Barney, Winnie the Pooh and Kentucky Wildcats beach towels were also there on display, but disregarded as not up to par with the high standard of excellence and discerning taste Tabitha would be expected to display in the locker room.

It’s so strange, Tabitha smiled to herself. If I’d needed a towel back before, dad would have just bought whichever one I liked the most from that selection. We absolutely would not instead drive ALL THE WAY OUT TO SANDBORO just for a random trivial thing like a TOWEL.

There at the Sandboro mall, they perused Sears and JC Penny—both had a disappointing selection that was remarkably similar to what K-mart had offered—and then tried Spencer’s and Hot Topic. Those would surely offer alternatives at least, featuring the likes of Simpsons, South Park, and various wrestling paraphernalia. These were ‘grown up kids’ stuff, in Hannah’s words, and appropriate for her to show off in high school.

Despite it being a Monday night—a school night—Ziggy was here today, lording over the Hot Topic from its central kiosk with crossed arms and typical dour frown. She was back in full form this time, with her green hair dyed anew and fashioned into punk spikes that pointed out in every direction, and from the way Hannah squeezed and unsqueezed Tabitha’s hand at the sight of Ziggy, Hannah appeared to be super excited to see such a crazy hairstyle.

“Hey!” Tabitha greeted Ziggy with a chipper smile.

“Tabby,” Ziggy had responded with a curt nod that shook her spiked-out hair.

“Do you know her?!” Hannah whispered, awed by their apparent familiarity. “She knows your name!”

“Of course,” Tabitha boasted. “Ziggy is the coolest one here at the Sandboro mall! Everyone who’s anyone knows her. Ziggy, meet Hannah. Hannah; Ziggy.”

“Hi?” Ziggy offered them a wince of reluctance.

“Ziggy?” Hannah’s mouth went wide in surprise. “Her name is Ziggy?! That’s so cool.”

It was strange and surreal visiting Hot Topic with Mrs. Macintire and Hannah in tow rather than being here with Elena—Ziggy seemed to possess a sixth sense that clamped her lips down on any snide remarks in the presence of the overprotective momma bear behind them wearing aviator shades and a bemused smile, and even more so Ziggy wasn’t able to be rude or flippant with an adorable little lamb like Hannah invading her domain and looking around the store with wide eyes.

Makes me wonder how Ziggy would act around a GIGA-KAREN like Mrs. Williams, Tabitha wanted to laugh at imagining it. Super pushy customer and meddlesome mother-type. I picture Ziggy either dying inside, or chewing off her own arm to escape a constant barrage of bitter praises and sweet criticisms.

“Hannah hon—rude to stare!” Mrs. Macintire reminded her daughter. “I’m so sorry, she’s just a menace.”

“It’s whatever,” Ziggy said, putting on her most stoic and unaffected face. “No biggie.”

“I really really like your hair,” Hannah was candid with Ziggy. “Mom, can I—”

“Your hair’s too long to gel up into spikes,” Mrs. Macintire shook her head. “Sorry baby. And, if we cut it short, then you’d have to have short hair the rest of the time, and you said you didn’t want that. Remember?”

“Yeah,” Hannah pouted. “But…”

“With enough hair spray, all things are possible!” Tabitha gave Hannah’s hand a squeeze. “We’ll see about that some other time, that’s a whole day project. Okay?”

“Yeah!” Hannah admired Ziggy’s green spikes with open enthusiasm.

“So… can I help you find anything?” Ziggy asked through gritted teeth, communicating the implicit ‘so that you can leave already’ with her eyes.

“Just looking for a beach towel for school,” Tabitha explained. “For the locker room. We weren’t, uh, satisfied with the normie options everywhere else. You know how it is.”

“Yeah uh, well beach towels, they’re not really in season?” Ziggy remarked in a deadpan voice, casting wary glances at each of them. “But yeah, whatever all we got is over here.”

A small assortment of beach towels, pillowcases, and even rugs was over in the corner of Hot Topic just past the giant wall display of band tees, and Ziggy helped leaf through the rack to show them what was available. Most of what they had was Happy Bunny stuff, which seemed to be a minimalistic clip art smiling rabbit paired with different sarcastic one-liners such as Dead on the Inside and Please Go Away and I Know How You Feel, I Just Don’t Care. Mrs. Macintire made an appreciative noise at seeing those, but both Tabitha and Hannah were unimpressed.

“Yeah, sorry?” Ziggy said as she continued sliding the hangers. “We used to have stuff more suited to um, your type,—Spice Girls and all that, but we cleared them out a while ago. We have some kinda reggae ones? You probably don’t know Bob Marley.”

“Bob Marley?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah, Hannah you know Bob Marley,” Mrs. Macintire reminded her with a grin. “I heard you and Tabby girl singin’ Everything’s Gonna Be Alright together just the other night.”

“Oh. Right,” Hannah nodded. “I know Bob Marley. The Three Little Birds one. Tabitha taught me—it’s not called Everything’s Gonna Be Alright mom, it’s Three Little Birds.”

“Ohh, right, right,” Mrs. Macintire patted the top of Hannah’s head.

“Calming music is nice late at night,” Tabitha explained.

It was hard not to feel a surge of pride at Hannah’s impressive memory retention—at least, for things that caught the little girl’s interest like Disney characters and song lyrics. Hannah of course did not care to commit things like math or sciences to her brain space. But, cartoons, storybook lines, song titles, or lyrics? Hannah could rattle them off endlessly.

“Hannah, do you remember the other one we sing at night? Over the Rainbow?” Tabitha prompted with a small smile. “The one we have your little ukulele for? Do you remember who wrote that?”

“Israel Kamakawiwoʻole,” Hannah enunciated carefully. “From Hawai-i!”

They’d spent an entire giggly night after storybook time teaching Hannah how to pronounce the name right, so there was no way in hell Tabitha was going to fail to bring it up. Is this what it feels like, having a daughter? Having her around just makes me want to show off and brag.

“Right, well yeah,” Ziggy sounded miffed. “From Wizard of Oz or whatever. Well, uh, yeah so there’s Bob Marley if you want, and then after that we just have like, Budweiser and Corona and that kinda stuff. Tabitha—do you drink?”

“Hmm, I only drink the blood of my enemies,” Tabitha teased.

“We only drink the blood of our enemies,” Hannah agreed in a solemn voice. “And—we never go thirsty.”

Practice let them both deliver that gem with a straight face, but Mrs. Macintire behind them couldn’t help but let out a small snrrk of laughter. If Ziggy’s jab there had been intended to have Tabitha blustering or embarrassed in front of Mrs. Macintire here, well… Ziggy was out of luck. While that I’m an older teen and I DRINK and do ADULT STUFF but you’re still basically a KID unsubtle establishing of pecking order would have been effective in making Tabitha feel super awkward around her real parents, no such difficult divide existed between her and the Macintires.

The dichotomy of rebellious teen and nagging parent just wasn’t present here to begin with, perhaps because it simply felt like staying with the Macintires at all in the first place was something like the penultimate rebellious act. There was no deeply ingrained familial friction or years of built up interpersonal tension to be found here, and besides, Sandra was a sassy cool mom, and had a great sense of humor.

Even if Tabitha had joked about getting shitfaced or tossing back shots of tequila with Hannah until they both passed out, both of these Macintires would just take her cue and run with the gag. And then laugh about it together later, with a giddy ‘did you see the look on her face?!’ Also, now Tabitha knew where Officer Macintire had acquired his much lauded Corona Extra towel—because an identical one just like it was hanging up here at Hot Topic.

“Uhhh. Right,” Ziggy once again looked a little speechless. “Well. We might have something over in clearance? Since it’s January, and all.”

The punk teen walked them over to show them where the clearance section was, and then immediately excused herself in a hurry to assist another customer walking in. Sandra arched both eyebrows and grinned at Tabitha, but Hannah was already absorbed in rifling through the stuff on sale in search of a cool beach towel. At this time of year all of the Christmas stuff was marked down in price and on its way out, so they picked out a Coca Cola beach towel there featuring a polar bear wearing a Santa hat that looked pretty good. The design had neat, clean lines, the color scheme was a charming bold motif in white and red, and the polar bear holding up a glass soda bottle was incredibly cute.

What’s not to like? Tabitha held out the fabric so that she could admire it with Hannah.

They brought it up to the register and a silently fuming Ziggy rung them up, and then Tabitha affixed the towel around Hannah’s neck so that the little girl could wear it as a cape. They left the Sandboro mall together in triumph, with both Sandra and Hannah looking incredibly smug. Tabitha wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the brief interactions with Ziggy, but there was nothing she could do about it. At some point in their last meeting Ziggy seemed to have mentally categorized Tabitha as the preppy bitch going for cheerleading, and decided that they would be at odds.

That DOES make me worry for Elena, Tabitha thought to herself. But, I guess those are worries for the future—we don’t even know if we’ll pass muster through the tryouts, yet.

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“Mom!” Hannah sat up straight in the back seat of the Acura in sudden panic, pressing both hands against her window. “Mom, wait! You missed the turn-off, we’re passing it!”

Tabitha watched with a wry smile from the other side of the back seat as the iconic golden arches of McDonalds was passed by and began to recede into the distance of Sandboro’s crowded main strip that was already thick with signs sporting the logos of various businesses and restaurants. The sheer sudden alarm that took hold in the little girl when she seemed to realize they might not be getting the promised Happy Meals was cute and also made Tabitha want to sigh and shake her head. After all, if there was one thing in this world that did make Tabitha feel old, it was comparing herself to Hannah.

“Mom—Mom what about McDonalds?!” Hannah cried out in a fluster.

“Calm down, shoebug,” Sandra placated her daughter in a calm voice. “That’s the Sandboro Micky-dees. We’ve gotta stop over at the Springton Micky-dees, because Tabitha’s boyfriend Bobby might be working there tonight, and we need to tease and heckle both of them as much as we can.”

“Oh,” Hannah’s near-tantrum receded almost as quickly as it had surged up. “Yeah. That makes sense. Tabitha—is Bobby your boyfriend?”

“Oh, no no no,” Tabitha played along. “Bobby? He’s way out of my league, he’s too good-looking and popular for me.”

“Bobby is?” Hannah asked in surprise, her adorable features already turning into a predictable frown.

“Yeah, for sure,” Tabitha continued. “I wouldn’t have a chance with someone as handsome and charming as him. Having a crush on the cute guy or being infatuated is one thing, but I need to be realistic. I’ll have to settle with someone that’s more on my level, right?”

“Ha haaah,” Mrs. Macintire made an amused sound of exasperation. “Oh, is that right?”

“I’m just being realistic!” Tabitha played out a shrug and sad shake of her head.

“Bobby’s not out of your league!” Hannah was already outraged on her behalf. “You’re already in like, the top leagues. The very top of ones.”

“The big leagues,” Mrs. Macintire said. “What do you think, Hannah—wouldn’t Tabby and Bobby be cute together?”

“Yeah,” Hannah agreed. “They’re not different leagues. I think they fit in the same, right?”

“Oh, no,” Tabitha lowered her head pitifully. “I’m from a poor trailer park—I grew up poor as a church mouse! Not to mention I used to be Tubby Tabby. At school, I’m infamous, rather than famous! Plus—look, and I’m still a cripple. I have my bad arm, and then my head—all sorts of medical issues, and, and poor health, I’m practically sickly, and—”

“Nuh-uh!” Hannah giggled and stuck her tongue out, apparently deciding that grappling with each one of those individual arguments would be silly and pointless. “Nuh-uh, Tabitha. Because—Because, I say so.”

“Oh, because you say so?” Tabitha chuckled. “Well… huh. I guess you’re right, then.”

“I am,” Hannah nodded. “I’m right. You’re not—you’re not all that stuff, you’re big leagues. Because, I say so. Big leagues.”

“You tell her, Hannah!” Sandra teased. “So—we definitely do still want McDonalds?”

“Yes, yes!!”

The pavement rolled on beneath their wheels as Sandra took them back on the familiar road bridging the city of Sandboro and the much smaller town that was Springton. The atmosphere in the car Tabitha shared with Mrs. Macintire and Hannah was bubbly and fun in that way she found positively addicting. With them, things could just be pointless happy fluff; they chatter about nothing, banter, with none of the tension or awkwardness Tabitha remembered experiencing around her actual parents.

There were occasional MOMENTS, but that was it, back then, Tabitha thought with a wistful smile as she joked around with Hannah. How is it that I can be so comfortable here, and feel like my own family are the strangers? That doesn’t seem like it should make any sense.

In most of her memories still, her mother was the authoritative one; crabby, stern. Critical of everything. Things had changed between them in the recent months, but somehow that original impression kept lingering on. With the Mr. Moore in her mind, Tabitha thought of her father as someone she simply had difficulty relating to or carrying on any long conversation with. He wasn’t interested in her interests, and had never had much to say about them beyond vague words of encouragement, or that ever-familiar hmm, we don’t have that kind of money wall that brought their talks up short.

No, looking back—his words of encouragement always seemed to lack substance, while the discouraging ones he would put some meat to. Find reasons, or explanations, Tabitha remembered with a stinging flash of bitterness. As though childhood aspirations were to be kept to myself and blown out in the smoke of birthday candles, taken as pure fantasy while wishing upon a star. Not something to engage with seriously—no, when talking seriously about the future, dreams must be given a sobering dose of reality. Is that why I always felt things were so helpless?

I remember way back when, we were going on about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I think I was eight or nine, and had just watched an episode of the cartoon TaleSpin, and so of course I said something about wanting to be a pilot, or to have my own cargo plane business. Instead of playing along with a childish impulse, instead of taking it as a random eight-year-old fancy, he took it seriously and frowned, said he didn’t think that was a good idea. Because, owning my own plane would be so ridiculously expensive, and pilot school and fuel and managing to make money off of that kind of business would just be too difficult and costly.

Tabitha glanced at Hannah with envy and also a sudden strange protective impulse.

Was my dad just, well, too much of a simpleton? Tabitha wondered. Too simple and straightforward to step back from a situation and realize that no, I probably wasn’t seriously gearing up to become a pilot or own a plane from that age?

Certainly not a cartoon bear businesswoman like Rebecca from TaleSpin like I was picturing, back then. But, the little seed of a future dream he was so quick to stamp out could have grown up into something else, some other beautiful future. Instead, I really did mature with a bunch of random inferiority complexes, and then fever dreams about running an aviation scrapyard out of a trailer park. I’m to the point now where I can joke with Hannah about me needing to settle, or be realistic, or stay in my lane, but even getting to this point where I can poke fun at it was… yeah, a long rough journey.

Thinking about it made her want to spoil Hannah rotten with no restraint just like the Macintires already were, it made her want to spend lavishly on getting her four little cousins video games and movies. Gave her the compulsion to be there for them, to be present in their lives and supportive and uplifting. To ensure that someone in their childhood was there to encourage even silly or unrealistic dreams. Because, they were all so young, and Tabitha felt like some very early reality checks had stunted her own growth.

Or, maybe I’m just looking anywhere for excuses again? Tabitha sighed, trying to push the heavy introspection out of mind. Looking for anyone or anything to point fingers of blame at, for how my last life turned out. I’m not being fair to either of my parents—I’m cherry-picking bad memories, because I’m still so upset with both of them about things. And, yeah, also because living with the Macintires is just SUCH a contrast. Yes, they absolutely do spoil Hannah too much. I just… find it harder and harder to fault them for it.

When they finally pulled in to the Springton McDonalds, it was during their busy dinner rush. The parking lot was just about full, and Sandra steered them into a line of cars waiting at the drive thru that was now five vehicles long. Tabitha was hungry, and she was excited about maybe happening to spot Bobby, and also there was a welcome playful energy inside the car as Mrs. Macintire and Hannah worked to hatch their plans for teasing the teenagers.

But, now there was also something else—a bad feeling in the pit of Tabitha’s stomach.

“What should we say?!” Sandra grinned. “Whaddya think, Hannah Josannah? Should we say ‘Bobby’s girlfriend is here, can you please send Bobby up to the window?’”

“H-he might not even be working tonight,” Tabitha gave them a weak protest. “I don’t know if—”

“Yeah!” Hannah bounced in her seat. “We should say—we need to ask him if he thinks he’s in Tabitha’s same league, or if—”

“Wait, wait,” Tabitha found her voice turning serious. “I, um. I actually just don’t really feel good about this. Seriously.”

“Seriously?” Mrs. Macintire paused to turn back and give Tabitha a look. “Tabitha—hon, we’re just kidding around! C’mon.”

“No, I mean—yes, you can tease me about it, that’s fine,” Tabitha hurried to explain. “I just—I just got really suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of you guys teasing Bobby? I, I mean, if he’s working tonight, then that means he was there all day at school, and then went right to work, and spent all day kind of—busy, not able to even relax or have time for himself. It, um, it suddenly feels so very frivolous to, to be flippant and teasing with him like this, just because we’ve been having fun with our day. Does that make sense?”

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“Whew, lordie,” Sandra’s grin only widened, and the woman slipped her aviators down with a finger so she could more seriously evaluate Tabitha. “Tabitha kiddo, I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t realize you had it this bad.”

“I uh—I just, I’d feel bad!” Tabitha blushed. “We, we shouldn’t just assume Bobby’s having a great day, and that he’s cool with us—”

“But, can we ask him what league he’s in?” Hannah didn’t seem to quite be getting her meaning, but it was in that subtle smug seven-year-old way that suggested her ignorance was intentional. “Like, can we ask him if he thinks he and Tabitha are on the right level together? Hypothetically.”

Tabitha really regretted explaining hypotheticals to Hannah, right now. Because, of course it was one of those grown-up words that made her want to facepalm when Hannah threw it back at her with that enormous adorable smile. What was I thinking?!

“Hmmm—maybe we’d better just keep our heads down, ask for our Happy Meals,” Mrs. Macintire teased. “Tabitha’s getting all self-conscious! Look, her face is going red!”

“I, I, you can rib me about this, that’s fine,” Tabitha couldn’t stop smiling despite the situation. “But—please, don’t play with Bobby about it! I’m—I’m actually not comfortable with that. Not when he’s been at school and then at work all day long. Please?”

“What can we say?” Hannah pouted. “Can we at least say, like, ‘oh and Tabby says hi!’”

“Yes, that’s totally fine,” Tabitha said. “You can embarrass me, I kind of deserve it. But, uh, yeah, Bobby’s cool and I like him a little, but we’re not really that close yet. For us to, to like, roll up and just start messing with him, when we don’t know how his day has gone?”

“Didn’t you say you went and messed with him when you were with your friends the other night?” Mrs. Macintire countered. “With Alicia and—oh, shoot. What’s her name. That other girl.”

“Um, Casey, and yes,” Tabitha felt even more blood rush to her face. “That was… it felt different. I, looking back, I don’t think we should have, uh. I’m repenting, alright? Th-there was—there was peer pressure and stuff. I have no excuse, I was in the wrong!”

“So—we can tease him?” Hannah seemed thrilled by how flustered Tabitha had grown. “Mom?”

“Do you really think Bobby will mind?” Mrs. Macintire arched an eyebrow at Tabitha’s theatrics. “From what little I’ve seen of him, he’s very, uh—”

“Very what?” Hannah asked with interest. “Cute? Handsome? Big leagues?”

“Well, he seemed like a real joker,” Mrs. Macintire finally said. “That’s why this is so fun—who would have ever thought that was Tabitha’s type?! But, hah, not like I can even talk. Look at the guy I wound up with!”

“You mean dad?” Hannah grinned. “Yeah… dad’s not very big leagues.”

“Hannah!” Mrs. Macintire almost did a spit-take as she burst into laughter herself. “Good lord—”

“I’m—I’m just going to shut up now!” Tabitha mumbled, absolutely mortified. “Do as you will! I’m, um, I’m going to duck down and pretend I’m not even in the car. Do as you will!”

“Oh, well okay then—we will,” Mrs. Macintire sounded smug. “Hannah?”

“Ah-heh-heh-hem,” Hannah dramatically cleared her throat. “Bobby and Ta-bi-tha, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G—”

Wow, oh wow, Tabitha crushed herself against the car door, face buried in her hands. I could actually die. Dunno if it’s hormones or endorphins or just the actual act of being a teenager, here—

“Oh—kiss me through the window, Bobby my sweet!” Mrs. Macintire sighed, putting the back of her hand to her forehead as though she was fit to faint away. “Give thee thy fairest hand—ooh, and with a side of fries, should thee please?”

I MUCH preferred it when the misunderstanding was that I spoke like a robot under stress rather than a Victorian duchess! Tabitha grimaced. I don’t sound like that. I never sounded like that!

“—First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage—”

I’m so embarrassed I could actually die. I’m dying. DEAD. DEAD! My mind’s all like ‘hey, let’s be cool, calm and collected, show them how unaffected I am!’ Their jabs aren’t even that clever! But then, my body is like ‘HEY WHO CARES, HAVE SOME ADRENALINE!’ Why don’t we give you an involuntary response to high levels of PERSONAL CRINGE that makes you too flustered to speak or function! GREAT! THANKS! PERFECT!

As it turned out, Bobby was not in fact scheduled for a shift that night.

A salad and two Happy Meals were ordered as Tabitha struggled to recover her composure, they pulled up to one window and then the next to pay and pick up their food, and then Tabitha ate her fries with a sullen smile as they drove on towards home. Hannah and Mrs. Macintire both appeared extraordinarily pleased with themselves—but Tabitha swore to herself that she would have her revenge.

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“Never had a real boyfriend, and… I haven’t had my first kiss yet,” Tabitha said. “I’ve been on something like dates before, but—yeah. It went awful, and I guess—I guess it kinda spooked me away from trying to, uh. Dip my toe further into all that.”

“Damn, so—” Bobby’s handsome face wore a look that was thoughtful without being judgemental. “So, you haven’t had a first kiss yet?”

“I haven’t,” Tabitha confirmed, trying to make the shrug she gave him nonchalant.

As if it didn’t matter—as if missing out on the magic and romantic side of life completely had been no big deal for her. It was easy to appear disaffected, but inside it stung. It always had. That bitter sense of loss had become a part of her, because she wanted to love, to be loved, to experience affection and give it in turn, for someone to care, really care, and for those feelings to be something they could physically express, to manifest as fantastic life-changing moments.

“Then, uh—do you want to have your first kiss?” Bobby asked.

The charming and cocky facade of his had been cracked open from the inside, and he was regarding her with a rather vulnerable look of anticipation. This would be a turning point for them, perhaps, where either they were able to open up to each other on a deeper, more meaningful level… or where Tabitha would—gently—push that playful carefree mask he usually wore back into place and the offer to kiss would just be brushed off by both of them as a joke. Banter.

“Yeah, kinda,” Tabitha gazed in his eyes, trying to savor this moment. “Just… can my first kiss be somewhere special? Not like, just here in the hallway. Maybe uh, maybe we could find somewhere a little more private?”

“Of course,” Bobby seemed to light up at her answer, and he took her by the hand.

She stared at their joined hands for a moment in awe—was everything really going so well? This all just felt right.

“W-wait,” Tabitha stammered. “This is, uh, it’s not weird, or anything?”

“What do you mean?” Bobby searched her expression.

“I guess… because I’m so much older than you,” Tabitha said with a wince. “Sorta. Because—because, yeah, I um, at one point I lived out a life until I was sixty years old, so. It’s weird. Right? I mean, I’m not sixty now, for sure, but I was, once. This doesn’t make me like, a pedo or a groomer or something? Bobby, you’re a teenager.”

“Aren’t we the same age?” Bobby seemed puzzled by her hesitance here.

“Yes, and also—no?” Tabitha was at a loss as to how to explain.

“But I mean, like—right now, we’re the same age, right?” Bobby reasoned. “And then, in the future—in the future we’d still be the same age. Over there, you’re sixty and I’m sixty. Right?”

“Yeah, but—” Tabitha paused. “But, I’m from the future, and you’re not. Right now. So…”

“Okay then, I’m from the future, too,” Bobby lied unabashedly. “I just didn’t want to tell anyone, so. Yeah. Keep it a secret for me, okay?”

“No, seriously Bobby,” Tabitha tried to withdraw her hand.

“You said you’ve never kissed anyone,” Bobby recalled. “Did you mean just now, or in both lives?”

“Both, uh,” Tabitha winced again. “Sadly.”

“Then, s’not like you’re exactly taking advantage of me or anything,” Bobby set up his argument. “You’re not like, using your future knowledge to woo me, right? To take advantage of me? You’re not leaning on your age and maturity to take advantage of things, have ill intentions or all that jazz?”

“Uhh,” Tabitha tried to think it through, but it was getting hard to concentrate. “I… guess I’m not? But still, that doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“Tell you what,” Bobby gave her hand a squeeze. “Let’s find the perfect spot where we can have some privacy for your first kiss, and then you can decide whether or not we wait or if we just go ahead and do it. See how the moment feels, alright?”

“Well… alright,” Tabitha nodded.

She really did want to kiss him, and maybe she was just looking forward to it too much. Was it finally her time? Would it be amazing, or would it disappoint? She needed to know.

He led her down the bustling hallway of Springton High in the direction of the quad, and the indifferent faces of the students became a blur as her eyes tracked down the length of her arm to where her hand was clasped with Bobby’s. Holding hands was… nice. She enjoyed it a lot more than she thought she would, the context of it, even just the implication that they were close enough for that kind of intimate gesture was cool. There was a level of trust there, a bond, and holding hands with a boy she was interested in just had her feeling giddy and light on her feet.

When they reached the quad area with its tables and planters it was crowded, and Tabitha wondered for an oblique moment what day it was. There were people everywhere! She was still riding that high of happiness seeded through with anticipation, so she wasn’t too bothered as Bobby gave her a helpless smile and brought her on past the back quad and towards the track and field area where the Personal Fitness class met in the mornings.

It was busy there, too—half of the bleachers were full and there were what must have been several different classes of kids out on the field doing activities of some sort. There were small cliques of people clustered here and there talking, and even scattered groups of students jogging around the track that looped around the field together. Now she felt a little dismayed. This wasn’t the right place for a perfect first kiss, either. But where was the spot that would be just right? Away from prying eyes, but also somewhere nice. Memorable.

Still hand-in-hand, they doubled back towards the quad and then tried one of the other hallways, but there were people everywhere. Talking and walking along the corridors, leaning against lockers, even when they strode past the open doors of classrooms all of the seats were full. There was just commotion everywhere, like this was some big day that Tabitha couldn’t quite recall, maybe one of those Homecoming things, or a pep rally.

“Hmm, let’s try over this way,” Bobby suggested.

They went down another one of the hallways and skirted around the Science Building all the way back towards the lunch room. Everywhere was full of people, there seemed to be no secluded spot where they could have a private moment. The cafeteria was a veritable sea of bodies, there were kids hanging out behind every corner and casually chatting along every walkway. What was going on?

Should I just ask him to kiss me? Tabitha wondered as her impatience and frustration grew.

The bus loop was full of buses and flocks of teenagers were boarding and disembarking and waiting for their bus in giant throngs. Thinking that perhaps this had cleared out the overpopulated hallways, Tabitha went back in that direction, but there were still kids everywhere, laughing and talking and joking with one another as though this was an unusually long gap between one class and the next.

Something was wrong.

She checked down another hallway, she tried the quad again, and although she could tell from outside it was full of loud people carrying on she was about to attempt peeking in the art room anyways—when she realized her hand was empty.

Bobby was gone.

Where did— Tabitha looked around in embarrassment, her frustration turning into fear and urgency. Did we get separated?

Tabitha dashed down the hallways in search of his familiar figure, his smile that always put her heart at ease—but he was nowhere to be found. She parted through the crowds first politely, and then without care of whose shoulders she bumped into or which person’s papers and books got scattered across the tile. The masses of students everywhere were starting to thin, and as Tabitha turned down this hallway and that and barged into both classrooms she knew from this lifetime and those she barely remembered from the future, she found the rooms empty.

Vacant seats and empty desks.

The background murmur of thousands of voices all speaking at once throughout the campus was dwindling to just occasional echoes down hallways in the distance. Dread was beginning to overtake her and she ran with all of her might down corridors that were sparse with people and then ones that were completely empty. Minutes later, as she rounded a bend she realized that the lights in this wing were off. Was school closed for the day?

Had she missed her chance?

Frustration and a gnawing sense of loss slowed her to a trot and then a slow walk. There was no one here—Tabitha not only couldn’t find Bobby, but now she couldn’t find anyone. What had happened?! How had she missed it—they had been holding hands! Where did he—

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Tabitha woke with a jolt, still feeling adrenaline from her run through the dream. She’d had vivid nightmares and F-22 fever dreams as recently as the past couple months, but none that immediately pissed her off quite like this one, and with a single motion Tabitha swung the covers back and sat up, shoulders heaving.

“What the fuck,” Tabitha said, staring out across the darkened bedroom. “What the actual fuck.”

Furious, she got up on her knee, leaned over her pillow, and started punching it—with both hands, because she was in the final week before getting her cast removed and the twinges and aches were long since a thing of the past. She laid into the pillow with a snarl of frustration, watching the soft shape deform beneath a fist and then the blocky shape of her cast and then her fist again without finding much satisfaction in the violence.

God… DAMN IT, Tabitha swore to herself, angrily swiping tangles of hair out of her face and sitting back up. What the hell?

She had experienced a few semi-lurid dreams where she was about to kiss her old senior-year crush a few times in her past life, and even had an exceptionally sexy dream later on in her twenties. All of those were years and years and years ago though, and feeling some combination of raging hormones, her subconscious desires, and the fucked up psychology driving her current dilemma made tonight seem like her fourteen year old body had absolutely betrayed her.

Just—not cool, not fucking cool, okay? Tabitha fumed. I DECIDED no kissing until I’m sixteen. No sexy times or any of that nonsense until I’m like—twenty one. AT LEAST. Twenty one, and without involving alcohol. That way, it’s not weird. Or not as weird. It’ll always be a little weird, that’s just my life I guess. But, still—what the hell. I’m not HORNY or anything when I’m awake, so bad brains could you please just not do this to me? EVER? Yeah, okay, I have desires. But they’re like—they need some FIGURING OUT first, okay? I’m not just gonna let Bobby sweet talk me to some private spot to make out. That’s not happening!

The absolute worst part of it all was how much she had been looking forward to it. The moment in the dream just felt right, things weren’t too awkward, the mood was right, their chemistry was okay, she wasn’t terrified and her fight or flight panic response wasn’t engaging—things were working. Having that opportunity about to happen, bubbling with anticipation for it, and then having her dream devolve into nonsense that didn’t deliver was just horribly unsatisfying!

“Zero stars, zero fucking stars,” Tabitha grumbled under her breath. “Two strong thumbs down. Zero out of five, no thank you, certified rotten tomato—would not dream again.”

With a careless motion she smoothed out her pillow, readjusted her legs, and dropped her head back down. She had no idea what time of night it was, she was wide fucking awake, but also dead tired, and now had a bunch of weird thoughts that she didn’t particularly want to stew in right now. After exhaling a long breath and then groping out across the small table beside her bed, Tabitha’s found the F-22 raptor model Alicia had given her for her birthday. With care she traced her fingers along the miniature fuselage and then gave it a little pat.

“Take me down to the scrap yard city, where the junk is free and the parts are pretty~” Tabitha sung in a sleepy murmur.

Yeah. Let’s just get back to dreaming about my fighter jet. Okay? You hear that, bad brains? That last one where I had it, I think I maybe crashed it or lost it in a tail spin or something. Can we just go back to working on fixing up my F-22, please? Let’s have THOSE dreams again. I don’t want to dwell about dream symbolism, or dating, or bizarro age difference paradoxes—hard pass on all that. HARD PASS. Just, please, just let me be a simple fourteen year old girl.

The room was filled with stifling silence, and although she waited and waited, Tabitha did not fall right back asleep.

“Holding hands is probably okay at fourteen or fifteen, right?” Her voice muttered into the darkness. “That’s not… super weird or awful. Holding hands, yeah. Hugging? Maybe. Any of that stuff with bases, touching or copping a feel or getting grabby with each other—nope. Nope nope nope, shot right outta the comfort zone and like, into the stratosphere of nope. Feels like a hard personal boundary, there, that might need time with like, a therapist to start working through. We uhh, we can revisit all of that when I’m way way older. Or never. Whichever comes first.”

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Her second day going back to school didn’t require nearly as much attention to detail and preparation—it seemed almost silly spending time obsessing over her outfit, when it would be hidden beneath a bulky jacket most of the time anyways. Tabitha stared at tired eyes in the mirror as she brushed and arranged her hair, and then carefully turned her face this way and that searching for blemishes. Her face was free of acne for now, but her pale skin was less flawless white jade and more hey, I look kinda sickly. Close scrutiny made the blue veins just beneath the skin at her temples seem stark and obvious, and she was for sure going to have to do something about the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Tabitha was no stranger to applying makeup, but it also wasn’t an everyday routine for her, causing her to flinch and wince as cold color-correcting concealer was dabbed in beneath her eyes and blended in. Yesterday, a full twenty minutes had been spent poring over every detail in the mirror so that she looked her best. Today, she just wanted to hurry to hide the obvious flaws, so that no one would comment on how tired she looked. And, it’s all Bobby’s fault!

The finer details of her dream last night slipped through her fingers and vanished into obscurity when she tried to grasp them now, but she did remember the basic gist of it—her and Bobby were going to kiss, and then they didn’t. It was easy for Tabitha to chalk this one up to a combination of yesterday’s teasing and overthinking and that vague, formless but ever-present fear of missing out shaping her subconscious thoughts in sleep. In her dream they had been searching and searching for just the right spot for a first kiss, and before she knew it, the moment was gone. The chances were gone. Bobby was gone.

The moral is, I guess—live life in the moment? Tabitha scoffed at herself in the mirror. Oh, PLEASE. I don’t think so. There’s something to be said for waiting on things that never come, the whole mindset that the story of my life starts TOMORROW and never today, or that I was looking forward to—or living in fear of—something that was just never going to happen unless I MADE it happen. Yeah, okay. My past experience is proof enough of that.

Tabitha performed a scowl that turned into a pout, and then schooled her expression into a shy smile, and then a big one.

But—there’s absolutely no way that taking things in the opposite direction towards the other extreme is the answer! I don’t really know for sure how I feel about Bobby, except that I’m drawn to and also terrified of having feelings for Bobby. I’m making steady progress on myself, I’m still adapting and making major strides and growing into who I think I want to be. I don’t need to be rash or impulsive just for fear of missing out on things!

She checked her teeth in the mirror, then searched again for imperfections that might require a touch-up, and then put on her game face.

Her prior life as an introvert had given her what she liked to think of as resting blankface. She had been so used to having her guard up when she was around other people and showing nothing at all, that it actually became difficult to properly display expressions when she intended to—they seemed to come out halfway rather than fully-formed. A weak half-smile when she meant to have a big positive smile on. A puzzled, thoughtful look instead of a face intended to look stern or cross or illustrate that she was getting upset.

Time with her cousins and then Hannah had helped enormously, because Tabitha tended to try to exaggerate her expressions, her body language, and her manner of speech around them when she could. Around her peers it was still a struggle to keep from being on guard or having her hackles up and reverting to blankface, and in the presence of adults Tabitha thought she might as well have been faking it or putting on an act. Was that normal? For a teenager? She thought it might be.

Still, as cringe and embarrassing as it sounds, practicing in the mirror DOES help, Tabitha told herself. Helps ingrain the FEELING of a full smile, or a grin, or any of the faces I need to put on. So that I’m not THINKING that I’m giving a look at 100% while really only actually putting up a dull kind of 60% one that’s hard for other people to read. It’s fine when I’m with my friends, with people I’m comfortable with. But, it’s just SO HARD presenting myself ‘normally’ the same way to others outside of that.

There didn’t seem to be some personal social milestone that flipped a mental switch for her and made acting extroverted easy.

Or, at least not yet! Tabitha thought to herself. Maybe someday, though. I’m sure if and when it happens, I won’t even notice the change until after the fact.

She dressed in the ‘angelic’ bridesmaid blouse and white jeans ensemble, which had been her previous favorite outfit—her current favorite outfit was the new ‘librarian chic’ blouse with high-waisted jeans. Which Tabitha intended to keep in reserve for a warmer school day, where she could go without a winter coat and hoodie and properly show it off. Yesterday had seen her long-sleeved A-line winter dress which was modest and sensible, but because it had been hidden beneath layers just about the whole day, she felt like she hadn’t debuted that look at school just yet.

Which leaves—a couple of ‘sporty’ outfits, like the prom dress to faux vest one, and then the skater boi one which I haven’t worn in front of anybody really, yet, Tabitha thought, mentally cataloging all of her options.

The thing was, there weren’t all that many options—when leaving the trailer park she’d shoved only her favorites and a couple t-shirts in her bag. Most of what she had now was new. The wider array of bland, boring tops and sweatpants and such which she thought of being from ‘her past childhood’ had been left behind, and by comparison just about everything she wore now was very dressy. Tabitha was going to need to buy a new outfit for when she was active at school for her Personal Fitness class, because her old trashy running outfit wasn’t something she could wear in front of the teenage girl clique.

Agghh! Tabitha wanted to punch her pillow again. Which means MORE SHOPPING. When I already feel like we’ve been to K-Mart and the Sandboro mall more times in the past month or two than I’d gone in MY ENTIRE PREVIOUS LIFE. I’m getting comfortable with it, and the thought of getting comfortable with shopping all the time makes me UNCOMFORTABLE!

Tabitha shouldered her book bag, took one last trip into the bathroom to check her appearance, and then quietly went on down the hall through the living room. The timing of her school day didn’t match up well with Mrs. Macintire leaving for work, and Hannah wouldn’t need to wake up and start her day for almost another hour. A single bread slice was put in the toaster—Tabitha double checked to ensure the toasting dial wasn’t set at incinerate, which remained Officer Macintire’s preference.

Hannah’s insulated fabric lunchbox was open and airing out overnight on the counter as per usual, so Tabitha checked to see that it didn’t need wiping clean, then began to fill it. A Capri-Sun drink, a Fruit-by-the-Foot rolled gummy pack, a very small ziplock of baby carrots, and then today Hannah’s sandwich would be turkey and cheese, cut at a diagonal, and with the crusts cut off.

Which actually seems pretty good, Tabitha admired it, popping the cut-off bread crusts into her mouth as she wrapped the sandwich for Hannah snug in a wax paper sheet and then fit it into the lunchbox. Think I’ll have a turkey sandwich myself, after school.

Hannah’s school lunch went into the fridge, with the top of the lunchbox propped open so that the contents would stay cool. Then, Tabitha collected her toast, spoiled herself with a very small glass of orange juice—a guilty pleasure that she did not remember enjoying often back at the Moore household—and got ready to leave. The compulsion to check for the time on her bracelet PC or smartphone had been suppressed in the past half-year, and so a confirming glance at the VCR’s digital readout was enough. Tabitha slipped on her shoes, tied then tight, and then drew the oversized hoodie on over her head and donned the camouflage winter coat.

Oh, shit! Tabitha swore, jolting her hand back from the doorknob in a fluster. Duh, Tabitha. Don’t forget the towel!

Cursing and grumbling to herself as quietly as she could, Tabitha hurried back down the hallway to her room to retrieve the new Coca Cola beach towel.

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“Uh, hey,” This time one of the other teens at the bus stop seemed to notice her presence. “Sorry if this is weird, but—you’re Tabitha, right?”

“I am,” Tabitha put on the composed friendly but not TOO friendly smile she had practiced and pulled her good hand out of her coat pocket to offer it. “You are—?”

“Uh, David,” The guy said, somewhat clasping her hand and then releasing it rather than performing anything like a handshake. “Did you just move here? To this neighborhood, I mean.”

“Kind of, yeah,” Tabitha confirmed.

“Cool, cool,” David nodded.

He didn’t appear to think up anything else to say, and with the other two kids waiting at the curb just sort of watching but not volunteering to introduce themselves or speak up, Tabitha couldn’t think of anything to say, either. They waited another awkward couple of minutes out in the cold for the bus to arrive, and by the time it showed up and they filed up onto it, Tabitha found that she had forgotten the guy’s name. Dave? James? Drew? Something like that. Damnit, Tabitha, this is what happens when you’re not focusing.

“Sup, Tabby,” Gary called.

“Sup, Gary,” Tabitha shot back in turn, offering him a lopsided smirk instead of a smile—her normal smiles weren’t the right temperature to use with Gary. “Did you save me a seat?”

“Yeah, got one for right there,” Gary’s hand holding the ball pointed a finger across from him. “Saved it for you.”

“Thanks, G,” Tabitha shuffled forward as the people in front of her found places to sit and then dropped into the offered empty bench.

That was it.

No one seemed particularly in the mood for conversation today, and the bus rumbled on through its route with its passengers mostly silent. The flavor of silence seemed to be sleepy and annoyed rather than tense and brooding, so Tabitha kept to herself and looked out the window. Driveways, hedges, and mailboxes drifted by at a sedate pace as they traversed the neighborhood, and she wondered why she had been psyching herself up for difficult conversation, clever comebacks, and witty retorts.

I feel like I uh, mentally shift myself into a higher gear to try to be extroverted, Tabitha wanted to laugh at herself. But, then sometimes it’s just—yeah, like this. Should I have had something interesting to talk about prepared and ready, should I have been initiating dialogue? Maybe I should think of something, for days like this. Today, though? Just kind of want to roll with it, and have a chill day. I’m tired! Bobby’s fault. As the great Hank Hill once said—DAMNIT, BOBBY.

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Just like yesterday, when her pre-prepared rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated line was on the forefront of her thoughts and the tip of her tongue as her fourteen year old brain itched to deliver a clever line at just the right moment and seem cool, this morning the damnit, Bobby quote was front and center. Making a funny reference and—hopefully—earning a laugh out of her peers would be super worth it, and for long giddy moments Tabitha fantasized about saying it as just the perfect time and impressing everyone.

Which is, YEAH, that’s just super cringe, Tabitha felt her cheeks grow hot with unwelcome self-awareness. That’s, uh. That’s right up there with being one of the most FOURTEEN YEAR OLD weird… random sorta compulsions that just sort of latches on and won’t let go.

She was pretty sure the King of the Hill cartoon was already airing by the time of 1999, because for whatever reason she mentally lumped it in with The Simpsons. However, she had been wrong before about things like this, and it was just an extremely strange area to have room for doubts. Tabitha suspected that Futurama and Family Guy weren’t airing yet, and she knew American Dad was a ways off after them. Part of being popular—or at least, social—was keeping a finger on the pulse of popular culture. Knowing current events and being able to remark upon them, being involved with what was going on with their lives right now.

Which SHOULD be a huge advantage for me, Tabitha wanted to hang her head and cry. But, it just ISN’T. Not in NORMAL ways. Like sure, I remember MEMES, and I have a sort of secondhand gist of things from my last life, but the overwhelming majority of that stuff isn’t neatly packaged into banter or one-liners I could use with, say, Gary. Bobby. Alicia and Elena. Just… hyper-specific and extremely rare situations, like having GOFFIC banter I can use with Ziggy. Even THAT isn’t completely on brand, because she actually skews more PUNK than GOTH, and to be honest I don’t remember much punk stuff, period.

“Damnit, Bobby,” Tabitha muttered again under her breath. No, wait! I threw some pretty good lines at Bobby yesterday that just sort of came to me when he was doing his REDNECK thing. Since I’d seen Westworld.

The problem with witty lines was that they either came to her when she needed them, or they didn’t. Outside of a handful she was able to mentally flag and practice and keep at the forefront of her mind, it felt like she was often groping in the darkness for something clever to say. She needed something clever to say, because without that it felt like she had nothing to bring to the table socially.

Whew boy, okay—calm down, Tabitha told herself. This is just DAY TWO of trying to be popular at high school. It’s already not as tense as yesterday! I feel like I’ve passed some of the major hurdles and I don’t know why I’m still this anxious about EVERYTHING all the time. No, that’s not true. I know why, just—just I want the anxious to just uh, to just FADE AWAY and for this to be natural and easy like it seems to be for everyone else.

She was on a first-name basis with Gary and Jacob, who were ostensibly the loud cool kids on her bus. Before classes and at lunch she had close friends to hang out with in Alicia and Elena. Most of her actual class periods didn’t offer much leeway for actual socialization with peers, but for the two that did, she maybe had a new friend with Vanessa. Vanessa was outgoing, which maybe made her a popular girl?

The correlation between ‘outgoing’ and ‘popular’ in Tabitha’s mind was less murky than it had been throughout her first semester here, and the key to it all seemed to be ‘consensus.’ Maybe Vanessa was outgoing but not popular—which probably would mean there was beef with some of the unquestionably popular cliques of girls, and their word was that Vanessa was lame. Or, perhaps having enemies—rivals?—was what would prove Vanessa was technically popular, because it would mean everyone knew who she was and that she was a topical subject.

Ooph, which would make me—what, exactly? Tabitha’s head felt like it was spinning trying to wrap her mind around high school politics.

Tabitha realized she was well known throughout Springton High already, just rather than conventional popularity… it was more as though her name had become sewer sluice for the vulgarities of the teenage rumor mill. Everyone knew there was an extremely antagonistic relationship there between Tabitha and Erica Taylor, but no one seemed clear on the details of why and were perfectly happy to invent all sorts of outlandish reasons on their own.

Her current image had invited plenty of problems as well, because her dramatic weight loss and beauty makeover for the start of high school had immediately put her on everyone’s radar, despite Tabitha not having quite learned how to fly yet—socially speaking. Tabitha decided that she had tried to run before learning how to walk, and the benefit of hindsight made it more clear on how and why and where she had stumbled and fallen.

But, I’m making amends! Tabitha thought, displacing her weariness and embarrassment with determination. I’m putting in the work, this time. I’m going to be one of the cool kids, I’m going to have a fun and fulfilling high school life that leaves me with no regrets.

“Damn, you alright?” Gary called over.

“Huh?” Tabitha blinked in surprise.

“You looked all—I dunno,” Gary chuckled. “Pissed off, or something?”

“Oh, no,” Tabitha blushed furiously. “Just trying to—you know. Psych myself up, for today.”

“Psych yourself up?” Gary’s eyebrows went up as he rolled his ever-present basketball back and forth between his palms.

“For what?” Jacob asked, calling over from one of the other seats.

“Just, you know,” Tabitha floundered. “School? Coming back to school, it’s hard. I’ve, uh, ‘til yesterday I was just like, staying at home all day and chilling? Not waking up early. Not having to deal with people. I was out of school for a couple months.”

Her sputtered explanation felt like it was full of holes—it was fabricated on the spot and felt like it was as much lie as it was truth. She wanted an excuse that was relatable, but then she was also terrified to convey the reality of her actual social anxiety, and couching it all in something more blase like ‘having to deal with people’ seemed like the best way to present it. To her immense relief, Jacob and Gary didn’t seem to really care.

“Damn, a couple months?” Jacob scoffed. “I’m jealous.”

“You didn’t hear ‘bout all that?” Gary smirked and gave his friend a side-eyed look while still facing Tabitha. “She got jumped by Erica, at some party. Erica Taylor.”

“Jumped?” Jacob repeated, looking towards Tabitha with new interest.

“She um,” Tabitha’s head swam with different phrasings and explanations for a moment as she struggled to decide what to clarify. “She thought that we could maybe resolve our differences using violence? Hah ha. Smashed my skull in with a bat, I uh, I had to have surgery because my. My uh. I had a bleed in my brain that wouldn’t stop.”

That revelation turned a large batch of heads in her direction, and it suddenly went from being a small chat between a few people to a third of the bus staring at her. There was a bolt of fear at suddenly feeling like she was in the center of attention, but then also she felt a little baffled. Hadn’t they already more or less gone over this yesterday? Tabitha felt like she had brought up the ordeal and they had chuckled about it, but right here in the moment she couldn’t recall quite what was said back then.

“No shit?” Jacob leaned forward. “Like, for real?”

“Uhh, yeah,” Tabitha gave everyone a shy smile. “They had to operate and everything. Endoscopic ventriculostomy. See?”

Despite carefully arranging her hair this morning to conceal the fuzzy section that had been shaved for surgery, Tabitha now tilted her head and carefully drew her hair back to expose it to them. The stitches themselves she couldn’t quite see properly herself in a mirror because of their position, but from gingerly probing the area with her fingertips she knew the cratered awkward crease of them putting her head back together after opening her up was there.

“Whoaaa, damn,” Gary mouthed in surprise, shucking himself forward on the bus bench so that he could see better.

“That looks gnarly,” Jacob remarked, leaning almost the whole way over one of the benchbacks to get a closer look.

“Gee, thanks,” Tabitha gave them an awkward smile, brushing her hair back into place over it.

Almost everyone on the bus was staring in her direction, now.

“But, uh—yeah,” Tabitha pretended not to notice everyone’s attention. “Actually withdrew from school just when Chris Thompson uh, he fractured my wrist, and I was gonna come back to finish the semester maybe, but… yeah. Hospitalized again! You know how it is.”

“Naw, hell naw—that ain’t even right,” Gary scowled, shaking his head.

“For real,” Jacob agreed, looking Tabitha up and down again and seeming to reevaluate her. “S’like everyone was out to just fuck you up.”

“Yeah, like—what’s the deal?” Another guy spoke up. It seemed to be the same teen from Tabitha’s bus stop who had introduced himself to her today, but to her vexation Tabitha was still blanking on his name.

“What’s the story with all that?”

“With Chris, I don’t know,” Tabitha gave them an expressive shrug of her shoulders. “I’d, ah, I’d never even met him before. They brought him over to uh, to apologize to me the very next day, and that was the first time I even met him.”

“For real?” Jacob asked.

“Then what about with Erica?” Someone from the seats behind her asked.

Tabitha turned in place to see who, but she couldn’t tell—it was a sea of unfamiliar faces, teenage boys and girls alike, everyone back there was now watching intently for her answer.

“That’s… a long story,” Tabitha put on a small smile for them. “I used to be friends with her little sister, way back before—like, partway through middle school. But, then—well, it’s a long story, and uh, we’re almost there?”

Anyone glancing out the windows could see they were pulling in for the last turn towards Springton High and on final approach. Tabitha herself felt completely torn. It was important, no—vital that she be the one to start personally clarifying what had happened and dispel the mess of rumor and hearsay. But, at the same time, it didn’t feel completely right to simply air out all of the Taylor family’s dirty laundry and shunt all of that negative attention Ashlee’s way.

But, I also can’t just NOT explain, Tabitha was mindful enough to hide the grimace that wanted to emerge from everyone’s stares. I… yeah, I need to talk with Ashlee about all of this. Today.

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Clarissa wandered past her old morning haunt like a ghost, giving the worn concrete planter along the edge of Springton High’s front commons a long look. Before the first bell she used to stand there with her close friends, that used to be their spot to meet up and talk. Now, no one stood there. Madison and Leah hung out in the rear quad over by the music building now, and their judging looks were too heavy for Clarissa to bear enduring. Bailey stood with a new mixed group of teenagers over by the other end of the front commons, and pretended not to notice Clarissa existed. She was apparently too busy laughing and chatting and having a great time with her new classmates, for Bailey it was as if she didn’t even remember that Clarissa and her had once been close.

We were all best friends since FOURTH GRADE.

To simply say that it hurt would be to fundamentally misunderstand Clarissa and the world she lived in. It wasn’t just pain and loss—without her stupid stereotypical friendships Clarissa knew she didn’t have a world, she didn’t have motions to go through, she didn’t have a routine or things to look forward to or things to think about. As superficial and ultimately shallow as her friendships had been, they had been the framework for her entire life, and the silly empty smiles and banal, overexcited good morning it’s so great to see you had meant everything to her. Clarissa had tried to cope, she’d tried to intrude upon different groups of similar girls, or start to lean into different acquaintances—to test the waters and see if she could fish out more of a friendship somewhere.

Everyone shut her out.

Awkward silences, derisive looks, and jokes at her expense were there everywhere she turned. Clarissa remembered Amber exchanging glances of amusement with the rest of her little squad, looks of can you believe this or who does this girl think she is, as if mocking Clarissa’s sheer shameless audacity in trying to talk to them. Rachel and Carrie, directly laughing in her face—snorting, reflexive bursts of humiliating laughter that had Clarissa immediately make an excuse and leave.

She’d grown used to locking her jaw in a rigid expression to keep from crying at school, but every day once she got home the tears started, and it would just be hours sobbing in her room. Sobbing out rage and anger until all of her energy was spent, with only the company of her beanie babies arranged along their special shelf. Clarissa had been desperate to make amends, even going to apologize in person to Tabitha at a Halloween party—and just when everything there seemed to be looking up, Erica Taylor bashed Tabitha’s head in with a bat.

And that was that.

Tabitha’s little group of friends there were understandably distant and gave her the same cold shoulder everyone else did, in the months after that. Why wouldn’t they? Springton High wasn’t a large school, and among the freshman class everyone knew now to avoid her. Her life… was over. With the now-familiar hollow feeling of absolute emptiness, Clarissa smoothed out the wrinkles of the oversized hoodie she hid in, and trudged over to the cafeteria, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

It had been a surprise when she discovered Ashlee sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria tables yesterday, and it was a bitter relief to see her there again today. Clarissa wasn’t sure she even liked Ashlee. The girl was a seething and unfriendly ball of spite, a scowling and embittered teenage girl who had basically already given up on ever forming companionships with others. That drew Clarissa in and also it repelled her, that hateful drowning in misery malice for everyone and everything spoke to her on a deep level, and also she found it incredibly abhorrent and off-putting. She didn’t want friends like Ashlee, and if this girl was her only option left… then she’d rather just have no friends at all.

What I WANT is for everything to go back to the way it was!

Having decided to avoid Ashlee and not speak with her again, Clarissa watched without interest or emotion as her trudging footsteps carried her over to the corner table where Ashlee was anyways, and without surprise or feeling much of anything at all she sat down next to her.

“Hey,” Clarissa said.

“Hey,” Ashlee grunted back. “It’s stupid cold out.”

“Yeah,” Clarissa agreed. “It really is.”

They sat in silence for a minute after that, and after a bit it occurred to Clarissa that they were both simply observing everyone else in the lunch room. There was an unspoken solidarity there as outsiders as they each stared out at the kids sitting at other tables, chatting and smiling and enjoying the presence of other people with conversation. Joking with one another, or expressing exasperation as they retold some series of events, or griped about homework while unzipping a bookbag to fish out worksheets.

“Tabitha’s in my sixth period class,” Clarissa finally volunteered. “I’m at her table for art.”

“Tabitha?” Ashlee repeated.

“Yeah. Tabitha Moore.”

“Mister Peterson?” Ashlee asked. “I have him second period. It sucks.”

“Yeah. I’m not uh. Artistic, or anything.”

“Me neither. It sucks.”

Clarissa didn’t want to sit with Ashlee, and she suspected Ashlee didn’t want her sitting here either, but… here they were. It was as if the high school world and its various groups of socializing teenagers were an incomprehensible maze of barriers, and these two sitting here were the laboratory rats that just weren’t smart enough to find their way through. So, here they were. Stuck here together, with no way out.

“Hey, Ass-lee,” a girl’s voice interrupted them.

They both turned to see an intimidating tall girl with dark hair—obviously one of the seniors—stride down the row of tables towards them while clutching a large book against her modest chest. The older girl had a figure that was more slender than sexy, but her height, her earrings and necklace, and the way she layered a tight tee overtop a long-sleeved shirt made her appear smart, mature, and very put-together, for a high schooler.

Clarissa recognized the girl as Brittney Taylor immediately. She recognized her not only because Brittney was one of the pretty, popular ones at the very top of Springton High… but because like herself, Brittney was one of the few who had been served a five-day suspension over the bullying incident, just a few months ago. Everyone at Springton High knew about all of that by now, but unlike the freshman Clarissa who had her life ruined—losing her close friends despite refusing to sell them out to the school deans—both Kaylee the sophomore and Brittney as a senior seemed able to brush off the events and resume their life at school with their reputations virtually unaffected, their social circles intact.

And, okay yeah—I’m a little bitter about it, Clarissa felt herself tense up. The only one who got off worse than me was stupid fucking Chris Thompson, and he sent Tabitha to the hospital! And, Erica? Yeah, that goes without saying, she was completely mental. Compared to THAT, I barely even did anything wrong. It was just a single stupid school binder!

“Thought I wasn’t s’posed to talk to you at school,” Ashlee groused in a mocking voice. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

It was easy to see that while Clarissa felt a little on guard at being approached by Brittney, Ashlee’s body had practically gone rigid. The girl sitting beside her had her shoulders hunched up defensively, she’d subconsciously shifted over in her seat more towards Clarissa, and the backpack that had been casually hugged against herself was now in a strangling chokehold.

Is… Brittney much like Erica? Like, CONFRONTATIONAL?

“Yeah, so?” Brittney shrugged, opening up the book. “You don’t talk about me, don’t say hi—and if anyone asks, we’re not really sisters, hah. Right? But, hey! Had to borrow somebody’s yearbook just now, so that you can check on something for me. So hey, did you see… this guy? At Tabitha’s birthday party?”

Clarissa surreptitiously peeked over Ashlee’s shoulder as Brittney leaned in with the yearbook and tapped a finger at one of the rows of portraits spread across the page. The faces were all young, looking to be twelve or thirteen, and a quick glance up above the margin revealed the heading to be Springton Middle School Class of 1996.

“I don’t know,” Ashlee huffed. “Which one? And—who cares?”

“This one, retard,” Brittney jabbed the face of a boy labeled Michael Summers with a painted fingernail. “Maybe try pointing both your eyes at it, please? Hah. This guy, right here. Look.”

“Uhh,” Ashlee balked at answering. “Yeah? I guess. He was there. I remember him from when they were doing presents—yeah, he was sitting there with us.”

“Okay, great, yeah, thank you,” Brittney snapped. “I really appreciate it, thank you! Was that so fucking hard? God. Now, hold on one more second, pretty pretty please…”

Brittney wet her fingertip and then angrily flipped through the yearbook pages, and then traced down the rows until settling on a girl’s face and pointing insistently at the printed smile.

“Well? What about her?” Brittney asked with an impatient look. “Was she there? At that party.”

“No?” Ashlee scrutinized the smiling middle school portrait of one Olivia Moreno, but shook her head. “I didn’t see her. But, what do you care?”

“Hah!” Brittney clapped the yearbook closed right in her little sister’s face, with enough force that the ensuing puff of displaced air blew back Ashlee’s bangs and made the girl flinch. “None of your business, shitstain. But, hey, thanks~! Really appreciate it.”

Ashlee… didn’t recognize Olivia, because Olivia like, put on a big BRIGHT smile for her old yearbook pictures, Clarissa realized, wondering if she should speak up. When normally, in person… Olivia always looks real pissed off. She looks totally different, in real life, plus yeah, she’s a couple years older now. I think her and Michael are sophomores, already…

“What was that all about? Ashlee scoffed, and the girl turned to watch her older sister stalk off on her long legs. “Psycho…”

“Tabitha… invited Michael to her birthday party,” Clarissa began to try to explain in a hesitant voice. “Um. I think because, Michael was the one to tackle Erica off of Tabitha, back then? At the Halloween thing. But, Michael and Olivia were dating, so—so, I guess, Brittney’s probably going to try to stir up some drama or make Olivia jealous or pissed off, or—you know. Set her against Tabitha. Since Olivia still likes Michael, even though they ‘broke up.’”

It turned out to be more than she had intended volunteering all at once, and for an awkward moment Clarissa wondered if she should have just kept her mouth shut.

“Ugghh, it’s all so stupid,” Ashlee scowled, shaking her head. “But, serves Tabitha right, I guess? Wahhh, Michael likes Tabitha, but Olivia likes Michael, oh boo hoo hoo. Stupid ‘popular people’ made-up love triangle crap. They’re all super phony, and it’s all B.S. anyways. Total garbage. None of them could ever love anyone but themselves. They’re all so full of it!”

“Yeah, I guess..” Clarissa eyed Ashlee, but decided not to say anything else.

I mean, I guess Ashlee wasn’t there with us for the movie part—everyone there would remember that Olivia and Michael were making out for like, the whole thing. Even I caught them kissing TWICE, and I was way over sitting on the other side of everyone!

Being in the unique position to recognize all of the important details as this developing situation unfolded was thrilling, but at the same time being cut off from her old group of friends took some of the wind out of Clarissa’s sails. She was all of the sudden privy to incredibly juicy gossip about what was going on, but didn’t have anyone she trusted enough to easily share that with. It was an altogether tragic feeling, because she was on the edge of her seat with excitement about this—it finally felt like something was poking through the dreary lethargy of her hopeless high school existence.

Do I… do I warn Ashlee that she basically gave Brittney bogus information, all ‘cause she didn’t recognize Olivia in the yearbook? Whatever they’re trying to spread around isn’t going to work, because OLIVIA WAS ACTUALLY THERE TOO, duh, Clarissa felt inexplicably torn. Ashlee doesn’t even like her sister in the first place! Or, I guess… do I go find Tabitha, and warn her that Brittney is fixing to stir up trouble for her? I mean, why else would they need to know just who specifically was attending her party, right?

That sense of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach worsened, and Clarissa couldn’t help but frown. Upon recovering from her traumatic injuries, Tabitha had again extended her the olive branch and offered her friendship, even making sure to invite Clarissa to her birthday party. The party had been strange. Clarissa didn’t feel snubbed like Ashlee apparently felt, but she did feel… ignored? Which she wasn’t sure was fair, as obviously the birthday stuff was supposed to revolve around Tabitha—not her.

Maybe IGNORED isn’t quite the right word, Clarissa pondered. Uninvolved? I was there, but it wasn’t like anyone pretended we were just automatically already friends.

Was it on Tabitha to be making those overtures, when she was the apparent victim of Clarissa’s actions in the first place? Clarissa wasn’t sure that was a fair expectation to have either, she had just subconsciously expected some veneer of friendship and familiarity to fall into place, like she used to have with Madison, Leah, and Bailey. When that didn’t materialize, it was easy to push her mindset more towards the one Ashlee espoused, to take it as an intentional slight.

Because, what’s ‘fair’ is just a bunch of random justifications for this or that, Clarissa tried to feel outraged again. It’s HER fault I got suspended like that, it’s because of Tabitha that I lost my friends, because of her that my entire life went down the drain. Like, yeah I stole her stupid binder, but THAT’S NOT A BIG DEAL in the first place, and because of all the stupid drama around her she just seems to thrive on, everyone overreacted, and now it’s like I’M somehow the bad guy.

Except also—Clarissa did remember the look of fear and loss Tabitha had that day back in October when they had swiped her binder. Madison and Leah both had Algebra there with her, and in their opinion Tabitha was just this stuck up bitch with all kinds of nasty rumors, who was too snooty to talk to anyone. Leah kept insisting that she heard someone say that even the cast on her arm was fake, that sure yeah maybe Chris pushed her and she got a normal tiny sprain, but that there was no way she’d broken her entire arm like that. With everything people were saying about Tabitha back then, it seemed plausible enough.

Only, Tabitha wasn’t faking the pain and vulnerability at all back then. Clarissa remembered the sudden alarming flash of guilt upon seeing Tabitha choke up at realizing her binder had been stolen, and Clarissa even remembered exchanging a quick panicked glance with Madison, where they saw oh shit, we shouldn’t have done that in each other’s eyes. Sure, by then it was too late to undo what they’d done and they needed to latch onto the narrative and insist they weren’t really the ones at fault, but that brief glimpse of Tabitha’s real pain did still haunt her.

But, just— Clarissa grit her teeth. At THE SAME TIME, I just don’t care what’s fair and what’s not fair. I made a mistake and it hurt Tabitha, yeah okay, but that doesn’t mean I deserve to lose all of my friends and have my entire life destroyed, either. How is THAT fair?

Clarissa had been forced to swallow down anger and outrage yesterday when Tabitha put on her sanctimonious act and implied that Clarissa’s old friends had just been using her, or having her act as their scapegoat, or that they had thrown her under the bus. So what if those had all been Clarissa’s thoughts in the past month? That didn’t mean Tabitha had the right to say that, and on some level Tabitha putting on some righteous act about how Tabitha would NEVER do that was super galling.

I feel like I’m making myself SCHIZOPHRENIC, just trying to decide which friendship to really pursue, Clarissa shot another quick look at Ashlee, sizing the girl up. It feels like Tabitha is somehow BASHING the friends I used to have because of how superficial our friendship was, and I HATE THAT. I already HATE that I couldn’t stop thinking that exact same way about Maddie and Leah and BB the past few months! Because that made me feel like shit! About EVERYTHING!

Even if she IS right about them, SO WHAT? They’re my friends! It makes me feel like I’m more with Ashlee on this, and Tabitha is just a big fake who gets off on acting sanctimonious about everything, that she’s really just snubbing everyone. Except, at the same time, Tabitha’s pretty much got a point, doesn’t she? Because my so-called friends DID all bail on me the moment things got rough and being my friend wasn’t convenient anymore. What I did back then WAS still kinda not okay. Like yeah, maybe knicking just a stupid binder by itself isn’t a big deal, but in that particular case it seemed like it was the last straw on the camel’s back for her, with everything else she was going through back then—she did withdraw from school the day I stole her binder.

“Ughh,” Clarissa shifted in her seat, uncomfortable in her own skin.

“...You okay?” Ashlee gave her a suspicious look.

It wasn’t a look of concern, and Clarissa had to remind herself that right now, her and Ashlee still weren’t actually friends. Ashlee was subtly shrinking back and regarding her with wariness, as if she expected the next words out of Clarissa’s mouth to be remarks about the way her sister put her down, or that Clarissa was also going to poke fun at her and belittle her, or maybe that Clarissa was going to start showing support for Tabitha, and argue with Ashlee about it.

“I, I uh…” Clarissa said.

Ashlee REALLY needs a friend right now, Tabitha had told her yesterday.

Those words rang painfully true, because while Clarissa felt pretty desperate for friendship, in her eyes Ashlee had gone almost feral from the constant and unceasing cruelties she seemed to face. Tabitha’s compassionate take on the situation with Ashlee, even when Tabitha should have been hostile towards the girl made Clarissa lean towards siding with Tabitha. Side with Tabitha, by choosing to be friends with Ashlee, when Ashlee obviously needed a friend.

Which doesn’t make any sense, because then I’m going to start thinking Tabitha’s compassion is just a bullshit self-righteous act she puts on to look good, because I’m already maybe halfway thinking that, and Ashlee ACTUALLY completely believes that to be the case. And, as Ashlee’s friend I’m going to try to be siding with her on that. Right? But, also like—I pity Ashlee for the way she wound up, but I’m also on edge around her, because there ISN’T any concern or care for me in her eyes when she looks at me.

“I… I think I’m going to throw up?” Clarissa admitted with a nervous laugh.

The bell for first period began to intone over the school cafeteria’s speakers, and everyone started to rise out of their seats.