“Hannah, it would just be for—” Tabitha tried to explain.

“NO, No you can’t leave you can’t leave—!” Hannah wailed, and her quaking voice rose in decibel until Tabitha flinched back from the sheer volume. Dgou CAN’T leeEEEAAaaavee—!!”

When Hannah’s pitch became a downright squeal, Officer Macintire and Mrs. Macintire exchanged meaningful looks and then rose up from their seats. Seeing that they were keeping their calm, that the two parents had a response to this and weren’t panicking filled Tabitha with relief—because she herself was thrown into a panic by this sudden turn in the little girl’s mood. Tabitha had been warned that a tantrum or emotional episode like this might happen sometimes, they had told her it was possible from the very beginning.

But, nothing prepared her for actually seeing it happen firsthand.

Over their many weeks together, Hannah had been on such outstanding behavior for her that it had become a point of pride. Tabitha had perhaps began to delude herself into thinking that perhaps she was some exceptional Mary Poppins figure who was simply outstanding with children. It was easy to start thinking that when she only dealt with the little girl at her best, and never underwent the trials and tribulations of Hannah at her worst.

Now that she saw it, Tabitha could only feel humbled, because she was terribly out of her depth. Hannah was already beyond words and simply screaming, thrashing and fighting as the pair of parents patiently gathered her up and carried her off towards her bedroom. Tabitha watched them go while sitting tense on the edge of her seat, because it felt like she should have been intervening or at least doing something. The whole situation felt so bizarre after only seeing Hannah as an adorable and quite reasonable little person.

It’s crazy, Tabitha thought in a daze. It’s like suddenly being made to see that a close friend actually has a mental illness. Except, rather than an illness or something wrong with her, it’s just—she’s seven. This is normal. It’s honestly probably more strange that I hadn’t seen her have an episode until now.

Another shrill scream sounded out from down the hallway to Hannah’s bedroom, causing Tabitha to flinch back.

Normal or not, Tabitha still felt responsible for Hannah’s outburst, and in more ways than one. She knew all along Hannah had latched onto her and even maybe begun to idolize her, and she’d done nothing to discourage that, she hadn’t ensured that there was a healthy distance between them or ensured that Hannah wouldn’t grow too attached. Tabitha wasn’t even sure that would have been possible. Hannah needed a figure like Tabitha in her life just as Tabitha had needed Hannah.

Still sitting rigid in her seat, Tabitha strained her ears, but aside from Hannah bawling loudly she couldn’t hear either of the parents over there at all. She was worried for a moment that they would have stern words for Hannah, or that they would raise their voices or something—but then, on the other hand now she was concerned that they apparently weren’t doing that. She had no idea what anyone was supposed to do to placate a screaming, out of control child, just that the yelling and crying was deeply unsettling and a situation outside of her experiences.

“Goodness,” Mrs. Moore let out an uneasy chuckle. “She sure has a pair of lungs on her!”

“Yeah,” Tabitha sighed. “Was I ever… like that?”

“No, no,” Mrs. Moore wore a bittersweet expression Tabitha wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Never like that—when you threw a fuss, you were quiet. You’d hide in your room and wouldn’t come out. Your father said we were blessed, because that way we could just leave you be, let you calm down on your own. But, I don’t know. Sometimes I wish you’d been more vocal. Like Hannah. So that we would know, really know what was going on with you. The way it was, well, I’m not sure we could ever tell when you were upset, and when you were, you know. Just off doing your own thing.”

“Oh,” Tabitha remarked, staring down at her plate.

That sounded about right, but those memories were so far away they were totally indistinct. Or, was her mother referring to even times after Tabitha’s mind had transmigrated? It was difficult to tell. Right after appearing in this timeline she had needed a lot of space from her parents, because adjusting to living with them again after decades on her own had been… difficult.

Truth be told, it still was. It always would be.

“Well,” Mrs. Macintire returned with a strained smile. “Never a dull moment. I’m so sorry about that!”

“N-no, no, it’s fine,” Tabitha hurried to assure her. “I probably shouldn’t have, um—”

“Not your fault,” Mrs. Macintire shook her head as she slipped back into her seat. “This was… well, this was a long time coming, I think.”

Tabitha nodded along because she knew that was true, but agreeing did nothing to assuage the guilt she felt for prompting this situation.

“Hey,” Mrs. Macintire said. “Tabby, hon. She’ll be fine. She just needs to get it all out of her system, and then she’ll feel better. Okay? It’s no big deal. Seriously. These used to happen all the time. Last year we’d have meltdown Mondays, because she didn’t want to go back to kindergarten, not after having a whole weekend away from school. She’d have hissyfits over not wanting to stop watching cartoons when it was bedtime, she’d throw tantrums over trying new food for supper. Trust me, this is back to normal.”

“I…” Tabitha swallowed. “In my head, yes I do understand that, but—”

“Not your fault!” Mrs. Macintire insisted. “If anything, you’re to blame for this whole past month of peace and quiet. Okay? She’s seven years old.”

“I should have—well, I should have brought up that whole topic a little more delicately,” Tabitha said with a wince. “If—”

“It would’ve been the same,” Sandra leaned back in her chair, dismissing Tabitha’s words with a wave. “This was bound to happen, no matter what. And, since that’s the case… we should probably talk about what you’d like to do, huh?”

“I don’t want to just leave,” Tabitha blurted out. “I mean. Not because she threw a tantrum, or—what I mean to say is, that I do love it here. I very much appreciate all the time here with your family. I mean that.”

“I know,” Mrs. Macintire nodded. “You know we feel the same way, and you’re always welcome, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha swallowed. “It’s just. Ostensibly, I was supposed to be here to help you with Hannah. And, well, to keep an eye on your husband, in case there were any unexpected um. Medical emergencies, or whatnot. But. He’s had a lot of time to rest and recover, and he’s back on his feet, now. I think going forward, I’ll start to feel less… necessary, here. And more like I’m a burden on your family. Your finances.”

“Gonna stop you right there,” Mrs. Macintire held up a hand. “We will still need you, Tabitha hon. We might not need you here twenty-four-seven like we’ve had you for, but I’m still working a lot of hours, and Darren will be back at the station catching up on things. I would… we would very much appreciate it, if you could still be here sometimes to help out with Hannah, or help out around the house. You’ve been a Godsend, I really mean that, and I shudder to imagine trying to just go back to the way things were here before we had you.

“It was a struggle, and it just felt like we were barely ever keeping up with anything. When Hannah was real little, I was home with her all the time, and we’d just gotten the house—money was very tight, we were up to our eyeballs in debt. As time went on and we were able to put Hannah in school, I picked up a job, and that helped! With the bills. Not with Hannah, not really, and us not having enough time with her—or being too stressed out and tired to properly have time with her, well. You get it. Raising a child isn’t something you can do just by piling on Barbies and dolls, playsets and stuffed animals, toys and games whenever she gives you grief. It was just… a lot easier to do that.

“So—yes, we spoiled her, and I don’t think we really saw how bad that was getting, until we had you here to help with her and show us how much better things could be. Spending money on necessities for you instead of toys and junk for her, while you then have the time to give her all of the attention and care she needs—things have been better, much better. I wish we had thought of this sooner. You really connect with Hannah in a way we as parents even cannot, and I don’t think we’d have ever dreamed to have a sitter or live-in nanny that could have worked out this well.

“Hannah needed a big sister, and we found one in you.”

“N-no, no, I um, I needed you guys a lot more than you needed me,” Tabitha said in a fluster, realizing that she was starting to choke up. “Uh. Mom, not that living with you and dad at the trailer was horrible or bad or anything, I just mean—”

“I understand,” Mrs. Moore nodded, seeming unbothered. “You needed time and space from us. Maybe you still do.”

“I—I—” Tabitha was tearing up.

She had retained her calm right up until Mrs. Macintire started to refer to them needing her in the past tense—that subtle signal that this fantasy family life was drawing to a close cut deeper than she’d imagined possible. Or rather, even if things weren’t completely over, this was them all acknowledging the beginning of the end, where they were going to transition back towards having Tabitha stay with her real family.

That had always been the plan, and she’d kept that in mind all along, or at least she thought she had. But, then also she had immersed herself so deeply in pretending this was her new family, in forgetting her trailer park past, that somehow this moment felt like the end of a very happy dream. Suspension of disbelief was broken, and now even when she did spend time with the Macintires, it would feel more in the context of a visitor, a guest.

No, that’s maybe not true. I don’t know, Tabitha chided herself. I’m just. REAL emotional, right now. Want to cry even over nothing. This doesn’t HAVE to mean anything has really changed. Right? Mrs. Macintire is still so much like a mom to me, even if yeah I’ll be staying over here sometimes rather than LIVING here. I’m being melodramatic. I’m—

“Tabitha, don’t start crying, because then I’ll start crying!” Mrs. Macintire laughed and then took a deep breath. “Seriously. Not a whole lot changes, even if you do start living back with your parents again. You’re always welcome here, I mean that. Even if it’s just, I don’t know, you commuting here now and then after school, to help with Hannah. We don’t have a guest room anymore, that is your room. Okay? We’re not—we’re not kicking you out, or anything like that! In another year or so you’ll have your own car, and this distance between this home and that home won’t even mean a thing. Okay?”

“We feel the same!” Mrs. Moore hurried to add. “Whatever you want to do—wherever you want to stay. If you want to come home, to spend time with us, that’s completely fine! We’ll be thrilled to have you. Whenever you want to be over here, that’s fine too. Or at your grandmother’s! There will always be space for you.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha tried to calm herself down and only partially succeeded. “Thank you. Both of you, really. I—I do still have a responsibility to my parents, my real parents. And making sure they’re okay. I also want to take care of Hannah, for—for however long you need me for. I need to take care of my cousins, too, I have a responsibility there. I’m the reason their mother won’t be there for them.”

“No. You’re not,” Mrs. Macintire refused Tabitha’s last statement. “Tabitha, your aunt was doing drugs. She’s responsible for her own decisions.”

“Your Aunt Lisa was gone from their lives even before all that,” Mrs. Moore agreed. “You’re not to blame at all for what she got herself up to, any of that.”

“Okay,” Tabitha gave them a helpless shrug. “Well, regardless. They are still my cousins, and they’ve lost both of their parents. Grandma Laurie can’t take care of them forever. I need to be there for them, when I can. Be more a part of their lives. Haven’t been great about that, lately.”

“I just don’t want you feeling yourself spread too thin,” Mrs. Macintire sighed. “You have plenty on your plate to worry about just with school, you know?”

“School,” Tabitha echoed, indeed feeling a little overwhelmed. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll figure it all out? I’ll, uh.”

She felt her processes lurch to a halt before she could continue that sentence. Tabitha honestly wasn’t sure how much of everything she could actually juggle. Throwing herself fully into school life where she was set on forging new friendships and being social and not letting herself become a vulnerable introvert only seemed possible when her after-school routine was easy, predictable time with Hannah and the Macintires. Dealing with her real parents in the trailer park, looking after her cousins again—was all of that going to be too much for her to handle?

“I’ll—” Tabitha tried again, but she really wasn’t sure.

“Let’s table this discussion for later, how about that?” Mrs. Macintire seemed to sense her struggle. “To whenever we can sit down with both of your parents and hammer out something that makes sense. How does that sound? Something like—I don’t know—weekdays and school with us, you looking after Hannah here then. Weekends with your family over there, time with your cousins then. And, once we’ve tried that out and seen how that goes, we can adjust from there?”

“I—yes, sorry,” Tabitha apologized. “I, uh. I don’t think I really have my thoughts on everything collected, just yet.”

“No matter what you decide, I’m very happy I got to spend time with you today,” Mrs. Moore said. “Thank you all so much for having me over.”

“We—we need to talk sometime,” Tabitha said. “Just you and me. About—about everything. Dad. Your new job—the family. I’m sorry, I just—”

“You have a lot on your plate!” Mrs. Moore rose from her chair and put a hand on Tabitha’s shoulder. “I’d love to talk with you, whenever you’re ready. I feel so relieved just, you know, being here and being able to touch bases with you guys on everything. I’m really proud of you—you’ve been doing so well, here.”

“She’s been a complete blessing,” Mrs. Macintire nodded. “Tabitha? If you want to spend tonight over at your parent’s place, we can do that. I can drive you both over.”

“I—” Tabitha froze with indecision for a moment. “No, not tonight. I think… I think tonight I’m going to go sit with Hannah, calm her down until she can go to sleep.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” Mrs. Macintire nodded her head again. “Shannon—I’ll put this last steak here in some tupperware, and I can zip you on over there.”

“Thank you so much,” Mrs. Moore said.

Tabitha got out of her chair, and she shared a heartfelt hug with her mother—or at least, she hoped it was heartfelt. Then she watched in a daze as the two women bustled about the kitchen together putting a steak into a container, and then heading out the door. A shy wave was exchanged just before her mother turned to leave, but Tabitha wasn’t sure how she really felt about that, either. She was feeling very discombobulated right now, by everything—she was feeling too many things at once, in too many directions.

“I feel… spread thin,” Tabitha muttered to a now empty dining room as she struggled to regain her bearings. “Stretched—like butter scraped over too much bread.”

It felt rather pretentious to reference one of Tolkien’s more memorable quotes simply because she was torn between the privilege of having two families that cared a lot about her. However, she was also a teenager, so waxing melodramatic at moments like these felt… well, it felt just right. Bilbo Baggin’s lines about his age had always been profound lines from reading the book, and then in the films Ian Holm’s delivery of the words made them absolutely iconic. I am old, Gandalf. I know I don’t look it—but I am beginning to feel it.

Tabitha didn’t have the courage to let herself utter those words anymore, because the opposite was just as true. She shouldn’t feel so young and impossibly overwhelmed by everything in life—but there was just so much her future experiences never ever prepared her for. Schoolwork was easy, but socializing at school absolutely was not. Playing live-in governess to a little girl was easy… so long as the little girl was always well behaved. Dealing with family was easy—so long as she retained the full agency of an adult somehow, and then also never had to be around them when they became bothersome.

“Hah,” Tabitha shook her head in dismay. “Yeah. Guess that about sums it up, huh?”

----------------------------------------

“Hannah?” Tabitha gently knocked on the little girl’s door. “May I come in?”

“Come on in,” Officer Macintire answered.

She hesitated at that, but even after waiting another few moments, Hannah herself didn’t speak up. When Tabitha opened the door and peeked inside, she saw why—post-tantrum, Hannah was curled up at the far side of her bed, hiding her face against the wall. The girl’s father sat on the edge of the bed and had a comforting hand on Hannah’s side, and it was clear from the situation that Hannah was not speaking to anyone right now.

“Sandra just left to take my mother home,” Tabitha explained. “Hannah, may I sit?”

“Hannah?” Officer Macintire prompted her with a slight shake. “Tabitha’s talking to you.”

Hannah remained unresponsive.

Hmm, Tabitha wanted to sigh in dismay. Maybe I shouldn’t think of this as ‘POST-TANTRUM’. I think the lead up to an outburst is like the rising action towards a narrative climax, and then this surly display is the falling action. It’s all part of the same tantrum, really.

Tabitha didn’t remember throwing tantrums herself—or perhaps the way she had expressed frustration and anger had simply always been avoidance, like her mother said. Looking back through her life through that lens, maybe her descent into isolation and introversion had been her own kind of continuous tantrum against the world. From her recollection of child development, tantrums tapered off when children learned to reason and communicate—which meant instead of meltdowns and outbursts, the child instead argued anything and everything. The article she’d read that from had suggested with wry humor that that phase was no easier to deal with than tantrums—and in some people seemed to stretch on for the whole rest of their lives.

Arguing over everything as an adult is seen as juvenile, and then throwing actual tantrums as an adult suggests you have a mental illness, Tabitha thought. If avoidance was my own brand of tantrum, then what would be next in that line of development?

Just this morning it felt like she had babbled out a semi-coherent tirade on Amanda in first period Personal Fitness. It was nothing like the ‘robotic’ elocution she had used with adults when she found herself incredibly stressed—it felt like an emotional outburst. Tabitha talking like a robot was cringeworthy but could be characterized by an overabundance of control, while being provoked to go off on Amanda felt like a loss of control. Now she had to wonder if this was an embarrassing developmental milestone for herself, or if the difference in her response was just because she was facing another teenager rather than an adult.

Because… my mindset has certainly shifted in the past months, and I see teens as my fellow peers rather than adults.

Tabitha crossed the pink and purple room that was overflowing with toys and joined Officer Macintire to sit on the bed with Hannah.

I think I AM a teenager, now, Tabitha thought. But, I’m a very strange one. Most teenagers had just been children, while for me my young years are very, VERY far away and a very distant memory. I’m not an adult, but I remember THE FEEL of being one. When I look at my parents, or the Macintires, or my teachers, I SEE them as adults, but that isn’t as much of a mystery to me as it would be normally. I’ve peeked behind that curtain, I understand being an adult now, even if I can’t call myself one again for a while.

“I’ll let you girls be,” Officer Macintire gave Tabitha a small smile. “Hannah? I know you’re upset, but it is still late, and you need to be good for Tabitha. Remember you still haven’t brushed your teeth, yet—make sure you’re responsible and take care of everything before you go to bed. Okay?”

Hannah reacted only by hunching in even closer against the wall, and Officer Macintire gave Tabitha an exasperated look as he bounced up off the bed. He faltered again, just as he had back in the employee break area back at Food Lion—rising up from a sitting position to his feet he was struggling to slowly unbend himself, and Tabitha hurried to lend him a hand. She had to wonder what was causing that—the wound he was recovering from seemed to prevent him from having full range of motion, sometimes.

“I’m alright, I’m alright—” Officer Macintire grumbled in annoyance. “Just gettin’ old. Hah.”

The man waved off her hand and then hobbled out of the room—Tabitha thought the ungainly walk was exaggerated from the quirk of his smile, but found the whole situation there troubling all the same. Being left alone with Hannah was also awkward, because Tabitha was responsible for the little girl’s tantrum in the first place. But, what could she even do about that? The problem came about because Hannah was obviously growing too attached to her, but Tabitha also adored Hannah in turn—she had no earthly idea how she would have gone about setting boundaries between them.

“Oh, Hannah,” Tabitha sighed. “I know why you’re upset. I’m upset, too—just, when I’m upset I bury it all deep down inside; I repress everything. But, that isn’t something that’s good, either, and it’s not something I’d ever want you to do. I wish I knew how to fix everything. Your mother just told me how much you need me here, and it really made me realize how much I need you and the Macintires. How much healthier I’ve been here. Finally free of enough of my problems to, well, to focus on starting to clear up other problems. It’s given me time to process growing up, I’ve been able to start dealing with the whole school thing.”

“Then stay,” Hannah finally spoke.

“I am, I’m here,” Tabitha said. “But, also—Hannah I can’t stay here forever. I can’t just ignore my parents, repress all of my problems with them. I’d just started turning my mother’s life around, somehow, and I think she’s in a very very vulnerable place. It’s strange for me to see her like that. When I grew up, she was the mean scary mom. I—well. I think almost losing me really took that way from her. I mean when I was in the hospital, when I almost lost my life. Now, it’s like she’s losing me but in another way, because I’m here instead of there with them.”

Hannah seemed to stew in silence over that, but that was okay—Tabitha needed a good listener, right now.

“My dad…” Tabitha on reflex didn’t even want to talk or think about him, and that was a problem she was beginning to recognize. “He’s not that bad. He called me and apologized—I told him I needed time before I could forgive him. Only… I guess I haven’t even been trying at all. It’s easier for me to just shove all of those feelings deep down and not deal with them; to repress them. But, if I always do that, then we’ll never fix things between us, and that’s no good, either.”

“Why not?” Hannah’s face wasn’t visible, but Tabitha could hear how hard Hannah was pouting in the tone of her voice.

“Because…” Tabitha’s soft smile fell. “We don’t have all the time in the world. No, in fact—we’re running out of time. He won’t be around forever, and because of that, it’s very important that I grow up and fix things between us. Make peace. Make things right. So that when he’s gone… I won’t regret having wasted so much time we could have spent together.”

“What do you mean?” Hannah actually twisted away from the bedroom wall so that Tabitha could finally see her face. Hannah had been obviously been crying, but she wasn’t crying anymore now. “Is he… sick?”

“He has a brain tumor,” Tabitha said. “Or—or he will, soon, I think. It might not be quite big enough to show up on scans yet, as a real tumor. I’m worried about the timing of when I can get him to go in for a scan. Too soon, and he’ll see nothing worth worrying about and not go in again. Too late, and… well.”

“They can fix that with surgery?” Hannah asked. “Like they did for you.”

“Maybe,” Tabitha shook her head. “I don’t know. Brain tumors are complicated, and complicated can mean expensive. On our income, he might not even want to… well, he might not want to ‘burden us’ with getting the best care he can. It’s something we’ve fought about before, kind of, and—I guess seeing my own impotence at getting through that thick skull of his has me so frustrated that I just start repressing everything all over again. He’s just so stubborn. He’s so stubborn that I—I—I don’t know what to do, Hannah.”

“You can borrow money,” Hannah suggested.

“Some people can do that,” Tabitha sighed. “My father isn’t one of those people. He’s not capable of asking for help, and to a certain extent he’s not capable of accepting too much help, either. He’ll leave it in God’s hands, for his life to be as long as God decides—which is, hah, which is so infuriating because he’s not even that religious. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Hannah said with a frown.

“Maybe that’s part of how I fix this,” Tabitha said. “Maybe if I can get him going to church, and then get a pastor to tell him he needs to go in for all of the treatment he needs. Maybe I just need to—I don’t know. Apply pressure from a different direction? Instead of running into the same stoic stupid wall over and over again with no result, and feeling like I have to give up.”

“Yeah,” Hannah agreed. “You should do that.”

“I guess I will,” Tabitha said. “Thank you, Hannah Banana. Thank you for listening to me vent.”

“It’s okay,” Hannah said. “Sorry for—for earlier.”

“It’s okay,” Tabitha smiled. “I really do understand. I love it here with you guys. I love pretending you’re my real family. Just, I also—”

“We are your family,” Hannah insisted. “Mom said so.”

“I know,” Tabitha said. “Just. I also can’t ever forget about the family I’ve left behind, and what my absence is doing to them. I’m in a much better place then I was before, mentally. I can do more. I will do more—I’m going to fix everything.”

----------------------------------------

Tabitha ushered Hannah into the bathroom and they brushed their teeth together, and then she got Hannah changed into pajamas and tucked into bed. Most nights the routine was bath and a bit of TV time and then storybook reading together, but it was already late and both of the girls were in a quiet, somewhat despondent mood. Busywork chores that had filled Tabitha’s schedule before were now a little neglected with her investing so much of her attention towards school, but Tabitha made her rounds tonight through a quiet house tidying things up here and there where she could.

Her outfit for tomorrow was laid out and ready, and this time she would remember to bring her Gameboy so that she could play a bit of Pokemon with Alicia at lunch. Hannah’s insulated lunchbox was wiped clean, and the empty ziplock bags and crumpled Capri-Sun juice pouch were tossed in the trash. The fabric lunchbox wouldn’t need wiped clean of sticky residue every day if the juice pouch was thrown out at school when Hannah was done with it, but Tabitha honestly didn’t mind that Hannah kept forgetting.

It gave her something to do, cleaning out the lunchbox at night and preparing it again in the mornings made Tabitha feel useful; like she was earning her keep here. The more she focused on her time at high school and her silly progress towards maybe being popular someday, the less she felt like she actually deserved to be here with the Macintires. She wasn’t putting her all into taking care of the house if she spent most of every day at school.

“Excuse me,” Tabitha cleared her throat, now knocking this time on Officer Macintire’s door. “Would it be alright if I used the phone to call my dad? I um, I haven’t uh. I’ve been putting off talking to him.”

“What?” Officer Macintire called back.

“Um, would it be alright if—”

“Oh! Yeah, sure—go for it,” Officer Macintire called through the door. “I wasn’t usin’ it—was just watchin’ my show. Go on ahead.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha said.

After striding back to the kitchen, she took a moment to balk and fidget and tidy up an appearance that no one would see before finally picking up the cordless phone and punching in the familiar number. Hearing the tone as it tried to connect filled her with anxiety, and then when someone finally answered it, it turned out to be her mother.

“Hello?”

“Hi mom, um,” Tabitha said. “It’s Tabitha. I uh, I was hoping to talk to dad.”

“He just finished that steak,” Mrs. Moore said. “One second. Alan! It’s Tabitha.”

There was rustling as the phone on the other end was handed over.

“Tabitha?” Mr. Moore asked. “It’s great to hear from you—thank you guys for dinner, that was somethin’ else. Been a long time since I had a steak like that. Years!”

“Hey dad,” Tabitha said into the handset phone. “You can um. You can fix a toilet, right?”

“Probably, yeah,” Mr. Moore answered. “Sure. If you guys are havin’ some problems I can take a look, see what I can do.”

“Well. No, the Macintires aren’t,” Tabitha said. “Springton High is. In the girls’ locker room—we have three toilets, but only one of them’s working. One won’t flush, the other I think she said has a broken bowl. And then also—some of the showers themselves aren’t running, they’re just like, capped off with PVC caps.”

“Ah,” Mr. Moore paused. “Well, honestly can’t help you, there. All the school grounds stuff has to be done by their own district maintenance people, that’s totally outta my jurisdiction. You’d have to kick word up the ladder to them about dealin’ with all that.”

“What if, for whatever reason—district maintenance is incompetent, incapable, or for some reason recalcitrant to solve these issues?” Tabitha asked. “From what the coach said, these are issues that have been persistent for years. She has been trying to raise money independently to find someone to help fix things—which is why. I don’t know. I thought of you, I thought maybe you would know something.”

“Honey, I honestly don’t think I’m even allowed to take a look,” Mr. Moore admitted. “If somethin’ were to go wrong, liability—”

“Then,” Tabitha cut her father off. “You could run me through the basics sometime, show me how to fix them? Then, I could I guess, sneak in and vandalize them back into working order. Without permission. Right? Hypothetically speaking.”

“Haaaahh,” Mr. Moore blew out a long breath. “Well. For gettin’ one to flush again, maybe? Sure. That ain’t too hard to figure out, most times. Could have a go with a toilet tank kit and probably get it working. Cracked bowl, though? Nothin’ you can do there, you’d have to swap in a whole new toilet. Two hundred, maybe three hundred bucks, right there.”

“Okay, so we can maybe get one toilet fixed,” Tabitha adjusted her expectations. “Having two out of three toilets would still be a huge improvement over just having one working one. What about shower heads? Would I need to—what? Get the water shut off, remove the PVC caps and install shower head fixtures?”

“I’m not sure without takin’ a look at what’s goin’ on there,” Mr. Moore admitted. “Depends on where the problem was, and what went wrong.”

“Okay,” Tabitha said. “How about—we don’t have hot water. At the locker rooms, it’s only lukewarm. Is there anything we can do about that?”

“Hmm,” Mr. Moore paused and considered it. “Is there vents on up through there? Like for, uh, well for heat, for air, all that.”

“Um?” Tabitha thought about it. “No, no air or heat or anything. Coach Baylor’s classroom is back in there, and she has to have a little electric space heater.”

“Ah,” Mr. Moore said. “Your locker rooms, are they in the main, central school building? Or thereabouts?”

“No,” Tabitha explained. “They’re both kind of tucked in under the grandstands. The ones by track and field, the area with all the bleachers.”

“Then, my best guess—and this is just me spitballin,’” Mr. Moore warned. “You’re probably way off and removed from the central school buildings where all their HVAC is run through. Your school’d have a whole boiler room for all that, but maybe they don’t pipe that all the way out to the grandstands. Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn’t? Mighta just did the easier thing an’ just set up a little electric hot water heater tank up in there. If they did, s’not gonna make a huge difference, not goin’ out to two sets of showers and sinks and all that for two locker rooms.”

“Well, no sinks,” Tabitha explained with a frown. “...Maybe some sinks? There’s restrooms in the same building, actually. I have no idea yet if their sinks have actual hot water. I’ll check.”

“If it’s just fixin’ a couple toilets an’ showerheads, just a call into whoever’s doin’ the maintenance there will take care of it,” Mr. Moore said. “All of that but swappin’ out the commode with the broken bowl’d be pretty cheap and easy fixes, I imagine. Like I said, whole new toilet’d run a couple hundred bucks.”

“For whatever reason, these are longstanding problems,” Tabitha said, giving him a shrug he wouldn’t be able to see. “I don’t know. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on. You said a ‘toilet tank kit,’ how much do those cost?”

As someone from the future she’d bought them before and had a rough idea of how much they cost, but then also—this wasn’t entirely about fixing a toilet, it was about finding a means to reconnect with her father over something. Also… she remembered fiddling with the tank kit for a half hour and then giving up and calling a plumber to deal with it after not figuring things out.

“If you know what way it’s broken back in there, you can buy just the parts you need to replace and it’ll probably be just a buck or two,” Mr. Moore explained. “Super cheap, yeah. A whole kit is most all the parts that go back there in the tank. I dunno, fifteen, twenty bucks? If you ask around, someone might have a kit they bought and used some parts from, that’s still just tucked away under a sink somewhere with all the rest of the parts you need for your tank.”

“I’ll, um, I’ll look into it further,” Tabitha promised. “And, showerheads would be cheap? From what I saw, something went wrong, and two of the heads are just stopped up with PVC caps.”

“Can’t rightly say, to be honest,” Mr. Moore said. “I’d have to know what happened. Mayhap somethin’ somewhere was leaking or losin’ pressure and made a mess of things—I dunno. It doesn’t sound like anything your district maintenance would have too much trouble sorting out.”

“Okay. I’ll learn more and get back to you,” Tabitha promised. “And, um. I’m sorry for. For everything, for well. Avoiding you. I told you I needed time to uh, to process everything, and instead I—I guess I’ve been trying to ignore everything, to not deal with it. When I do need to actually work on processing everything, and talk things through with you, and yeah. So. Sorry. Sorry for avoiding you.”

“Nothing you ever gotta worry about,” Mr. Moore assured her. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did avoid me—not after the whole thing with Lisa. I should have listened to you in the first place, should have trusted you knew what was what. You’re way smarter’n me, I know that by now. I guess—I guess I just want to think of it like you’re my little girl, even when you’re just ‘bout already all grown up already.”

“I am grown up already,” Tabitha took a deep breath. “But, also in some ways I never grew up. I’ve been acting childish. I uh, I didn’t handle Lisa or talk things through with you in a mature way like I should have. I lost my temper.”

“No, hon, you were in the right,” Mr. Moore said. “You knew she was into heroin—if I’d been able to stop and see that, I would’ve lost my cool, too. You were in the right. I love you, honey—and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” Tabitha said, feeling a surge of relief for reasons she couldn’t even pinpoint right now. “I’ll uh. I’ll talk to you again soon. Maybe start spending weekends over there again, we’ll figure something out. Love you. Bye.”

----------------------------------------

Tabitha woke up still tired.

Her eyes felt sore as they stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom, and for a long time she didn’t have the energy to actually get up. Faint morning light seeping out insidiously from behind the curtain told her in rough terms what time it was, as much as she didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t even recall having any difficulty falling asleep last night—it felt wrong and unfair that she had been diligent and put in all of the hours to sleep, yet somehow her body had not done its job and rested.

It was inordinately difficult to get herself moving for the day.

When she did rise it was with great reluctance, and with a stone-faced look of irritation Tabitha left behind the comfort and warmth of the covers and ambled down the hallway on heavy legs. The bathroom light was bright enough to turn her look of irritation into a squinty-eyed scowl, and then after sitting down there and doing her business she found it difficult to get back up. Normally by now her mind would be awash with thoughts about this and that, she would be thinking about her day or sinking into introspection—this was not one of those days.

This was the kind of day where she stared at a random spot on the floor without thinking as seconds stretched on into minutes.

By the time she got over to the mirror she saw a teenage girl angrily brushing her teeth there, and Tabitha glared at that reflection as she worked the toothbrush back and forth. She wasn’t really even upset at anything in particular. She just didn’t feel like doing this today, with ‘this’ being a broad, sweeping generalization referring to anything and everything. Tabitha wasn’t looking forward to anything at school, nor did she even want to try to go back to bed.

It feels like that ship has sailed.

Her Gameboy Color was retrieved from the stand beside her bed and placed into her bookbag. While she was there, she pulled out yesterday’s homework and scanned through it with listless eyes, not even sure what she was looking for—the worksheet was filled out, but she didn’t have the processing power right now to recheck the answers she had penciled in. Then, she zipped everything back up and walked out to the kitchen without even getting dressed. Normally Tabitha would have been a little spooked venturing out into the common areas of the house while still in her undies, but today she didn’t even care.

She told herself that it was because she felt more at home and comfortable here, but that felt like a lie.

Hannah’s lunchbox was wiped out and filled with the usual suspects, and then propped open in the fridge. The cut-off crusts from the sandwich were put on a napkin for Tabitha to eat for breakfast maybe, whenever her appetite materialized. She wasn’t feeling anything that took more effort than that, not even dropping something in the toaster.

Tabitha returned to the bathroom and forced herself to pay enough attention for minimal makeup—today, that meant again dabbing cold color correction just beneath her eyes. Her orangish-red hair was flat and a little mussed, so she took a brush to it. Today felt less like a style her hair day and more like a let’s just wear a hat day, and likewise it didn’t seem like carefully picking an outfit that would be hidden under a hoodie or jacket all day was going to impress anyone.

So, today she opted for the outfit that was next in line, the prom dress to faux vest one that she had donned months ago back when she had brought Elena to play tag with her cousins. It didn’t seem like it would matter what she wore. Nothing at all in the world mattered. Dark and dramatic teenage ennui had manifested by virtue of she was real fucking tired and Tabitha saw no reason to care about anything, anymore.

She put on her shoes with annoyed, lethargic motions and climbed into the borrowed hoodie, and then slipped her bag over one shoulder. Tabitha couldn’t be bothered with the big coat today, she didn’t want to deal with lugging it around. Her hat, a beanie she discovered in the ‘birthday bucket’ from her mother, would maybe contribute enough warmth to make up the difference. Tabitha’s last glance around before leaving reminded her that she’d left bread crusts on the kitchen counter, and she made a face at them but eventually folded the napkin over and just put it into her pocket.

She couldn’t throw them away—growing up as a poor trailer park kid ingrained a deep sense of duty within her. Wasting food was one of the cardinal sins. Putting the bread crust cutoffs in the fridge for later felt like it would invite questions or comments or conversation about it from the Macintires she didn’t want to put up with. Maybe she would snack on the crusts a bit later when she was hungry.

It seemed more likely she would smuggle them out of the house and disregard them into the trash somewhere, which felt like a serious crime.

No one would care, Tabitha told herself with a scowl as she finally stormed out the door. Nothing TO care about. Just me being my stupid self, thinking stupid things in my stupid mind that doesn’t even matter.

----------------------------------------

What the fuck, Tabitha glared hatefully out at the quiet suburban streets surrounding the bus stop. It’s fucking freezing.

She’d left the house earlier than usual, because back there she’d been filled with the let’s just get on with it sentiment and wanted to just hurry up and leave. The bulky hunting jacket had been left behind because she was an idiot who didn’t think things through, and now she was hugging both arms tightly about herself—which was still awkward because of the cast, which was also cold, she could feel it—because the air outside was frigid.

Tabitha felt too stubborn to go back for the coat, though.

After all, she was already here and had been standing for a while. For all she knew the bus might come by the stop while she was returning back to the house for a jacket. So, instead she grit her teeth and shivered in misery, taking grim satisfaction at least in having something substantial to be pissy about. The other kids arrived late, bundled up in their winter clothing, but no one commented on Tabitha being underdressed. They probably didn’t notice or didn’t care—no one at this bus stop was particularly close, and they milled about at the corner there as strangers like always.

The bus arrived, and Tabitha hurried to be the first to board. It was warm inside, but Tabitha was too preoccupied with presenting a grouchy appearance to enjoy it. Today she needed everyone to understand that she wasn’t feeling friendly or talkative, and that they should leave her alone. Gary seemed to intuit this on his own and let her off the hook on greetings or formalities today, simply giving her a solemn nod. She nodded back as she tromped down the aisle, then she dropped into a seat and huddled up against the window, which was also cold.

Because of course it was.

Arms crossed, Tabitha glared out the window as the bus rolled on, but she wasn’t watching the scenery passing by and she wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular, either. She was just staring, feeling irritated at everything and not even caring enough to determine why.

----------------------------------------

“Tabitha. Where’s your jacket?” Alicia growled, storming over to where Tabitha was hunched up at their usual outside table in the quad. “It’s thirty-something degrees, you’re freezing.”

“Didn’t bring it,” Tabitha hunched her shoulders up in a cranky shrug.

“Wear my jacket,” Alicia said, dropping her backpack onto the table and starting to unzip her outerwear.

“No—” Tabitha shook her head. “Then you’ll be cold.”

“I’m already warm from wearing it,” Alicia said. “I’m all toasty. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tabitha said. “Seriously, stop. I don’t want your jacket.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be cold,” Alicia huffed. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Tabitha all but pouted. “Just having a crappy morning. Didn’t sleep well.”

“Put this on,” Alicia insisted, whirling her jacket out and dropping it down onto Tabitha’s shoulders. “Here.”

“I don’t want your jacket,” Tabitha repeated. “See? Now you’re cold.”

“I am cold, now,” Alicia swore. “The hell. Why didn’t you bring your jacket?”

“I just didn’t,” Tabitha didn’t know what else to say. “I have a hoodie.”

“Okay. Whatever, shut up,” Alicia shook her head in dismay, dropping onto the seat next to her and huddling up against her for warmth. “Just, shut up.”

“Take your jacket back.”

“No. Shut up.”

“Take it—”

“Shut up. I am so serious.”

Alicia’s jacket was warm, but wearing it only made Tabitha feel guilty. Today she was being childish and petulant, and there was a distant sense of dread in realizing she was sure to fail each and every little social hurdle and interpersonal obstacle today throughout her classes and then have to deal with the aftermath of that later on. The two sat in stiff silence, waiting for Elena to show up, but for whatever reason their third amigo was delayed today and failed to appear.

“Bobby. Thank God,” Alicia rose up from the table the moment she instead spotted Bobby. “Give Tabitha your coat. I’m taking mine back. She’s in a mood, don’t ask.”

“I didn’t say I was in a mood,” Tabitha grumbled.

“Yeah, well,” Alicia shrugged.

“Oh—kay?” Bobby looked from one girl to the other. “Yeah, here.”

Alicia reclaimed her jacket that had been draped about Tabitha’s shoulders, and watched with a stern eye as Bobby quickly shucked off his coat and then helped Tabitha into it. It was a sporty winter one that she imagined a late nineties kid might wear snowboarding or such—she remembered him wearing it back during her birthday party, because they had shared a hug. It felt strange that that memory stood out, because surely Bobby had worn this same jacket to school the past several days, but that was just the way Tabitha’s mind was working this morning.

“There we are, good to go,” Bobby rubbed his hands along his bare arms as he stepped back. “WheeeEWW, y-you know—it’s not even that cold out? It’s j-just a uh, it’s just a bit brisk. That’s all. Holy shitballs.”

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“Ugh,” Alicia grunted, rolling her eyes.

Unlike Tabitha who had at least been wearing a hoodie—Bobby just had a t-shirt on beneath his coat, and his attempt at bravado fell flat when he immediately curled in on himself against the biting cold and began to shiver. Alicia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug, and the two stood there in front of Tabitha, looking towards her as if for an explanation.

“I don’t know!” Tabitha had the good decency now to blush. “Sorry. I just. I didn’t get any sleep, having a rough day. Didn’t grab my coat. By the time I really realized how cold it was, I didn’t want to try to go back for it.”

It was mortifying watching a minor mistake from this morning snowball into a big ordeal here with her friends, and Tabitha didn’t even feel like she could face them right now. She didn’t want to deal with anything today, and so naturally it would be her own negligence—hubris—whatever, she couldn’t even decide on the right words—that ensured today she would have to put up with a whole bunch of headache. Due to her own carelessness.

“Bobby, where’s your jacket,” Elena finally arrived. “Are you fucking stupid?”

“I—I uhhhh,” Bobby laughed. “I forgot it?”

“You—oh,” Elena seemed to realize the situation as she stepped closer and looked over each of them. “Okay. I take it back, kind of cool of you, Bobby. Tabitha?”

“I didn’t bring my jacket,” Tabitha admitted with sullen defeat.

“Think aunt Flo is visiting,” Alicia mouthed in a too-loud whisper, putting a grin on for Bobby.

“Oh?” Bobby blinked in surprise. “Ohhh.”

“I’m not on my period,” Tabitha huffed. “I didn’t get good sleep. That’s all. Not having a good day. That’s it. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Elena shrugged. “But, yeah—Bobby’s turning blue, so maybe we should all just head inside?”

“Hey—no worries!” Bobby’s teeth chattered—Tabitha suspected he was doing it on purpose, playing up the cold for laughs. “Hakuna Matata, it means no worries! My next period’s outside anyways, we got Personal Fitness. I’ll run it off. This ain’t nothin’, my bedroom’s colder’n this at night. Keep my fan goin’ no matter what. No biggie. Well, I mean it’s kind of a big deal, most other guys wouldn’t even be able to handle it? They’re not me, though.”

“Tabs,” Alicia teased, patting Bobby’s back. “Bobby’s all cold over here—you take this side, yeah?”

“I’m so cold,” Bobby pleaded, doing an immediate one-eighty on his stoicism from moments ago. “So cold—!”

“Thank you for the jacket, Bobby,” Tabitha said grudgingly.

She rose up out of her seat and joined Alicia in hugging Bobby, so that the pathetic shivering he was exaggerating was sandwiched between two girls wearing coats. Alicia gave Tabitha a rather judging look over Bobby’s back that slowly turned into an exasperated smile, and Elena slipped into the spot at the table Tabitha had just vacated.

“Th-this is, th-this is so much better,” Bobby continued to shake and tremble. “You know what? This is the best day of my life. We should just do this every day?”

“So,” Elena cleared her throat. “Tabitha? What’s going on? Spill.”

“Nothing,” Tabitha grumbled. “I…”

All of a sudden her denial felt like a lie, and Tabitha seriously worried that she was just acting out because she had wanted attention. That wasn’t normally the way she thought of herself, she didn’t like it, and embarrassment and shame throbbed through her as she tried to focus on why this morning everything felt so off. If only to have something to excuse her situation.

“Tabs?” Alicia prodded. “C’mon, for real.”

“I just… didn’t sleep, I guess,” Tabitha stared down at the Bobby’s shoulder, unable to even enjoy the big hug they were all sharing.

“Honestly… my life is okay, right now. I mean, I’m dealing with stuff, but it’s just—it’s just the same stuff I’ve been dealing with, the same stuff I always deal with. I’m okay. I just woke up wrong, or on the wrong side of the bed, and—yeah. Thinking back… I must have had hundreds of mornings like this. Maybe thousands. Days where it’s hard to get up, days where I’m just feeling kind of down. Where you’re not exactly thrilled to go in for work, or school, or—whatever, but yeah you have to do it anyways.

“Sometimes, I feel like maybe I’ve had more of those kind of days than ‘normal’ ones. Just, looking back on it all, those are the days you won’t remember. There’s nothing to remember. Sometimes you’re just… on autopilot. Going through the motions. Because you have to. Some days are just like this?”

“Tabitha—I completely know what you mean,” Bobby said. “‘Cause, yeah. Some days just drag. Really drag.”

“Yeah,” Tabitha said. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to, uh.”

“Didn’t mean to have all of us thinking this must be a cry for help?” Elena scoffed. “Didn’t mean to forget your coat, when it’s thirty degrees out? Literally freezing?”

“I don’t know,” Tabitha gave her a helpless shrug. “Sorry. It’s—and it’s only mid-thirties. It’ll be mid-forties by this afternoon!”

“Yeah, in Canada they’d be wearing flip-flops and shorts in this weather!” Alicia remarked. “Be time for them to break out the bikinis. Hell, there’s a guy in my one class who’s still wearing shorts. There’s always that one guy.”

“We’ve been running the past couple days in this,” Bobby shrugged. “It’s, uh. It’s only super freezing right when you start, then you kinda warm yourself up as you go? S’like doing polar bear. Jumpin’ in a pool in winter, you know.”

“Tabitha—are you going to be running early in the morning?” Elena asked. “I wanted us to run together. Especially if you’re still serious about trying for cheer with me.”

“Yeah. I mean—I’d like to, at least,” Tabitha gave them her most eloquent shrug. “We can run together. Will just have to figure out how far away from each other we live, now?”

“Yeah,” Elena said.

Tabitha didn’t remember to tell Alicia that she’d brought her Game Boy today until after the bell for class resounded throughout the intercom and the friends dispersed. As she walked with Bobby towards the football field, she told herself she would definitely remember it for lunch, and again cursed herself for being so out of sorts today. Too many things here at high school could go wrong if she wasn’t paying enough attention, and Tabitha took the time now to sober herself up and put her game face on for first period.

First of all… Tabitha unzipped Bobby’s borrowed sports jacket and slipped out of it. “Bobby—here.”

“Naw, you wear it,” Bobby tried to refuse.

“Bobby… I can’t,” Tabitha gave him an apologetic look. “Thank you, really. But, I can’t.”

EVERYONE will talk if I’m wearing his jacket to class. It’s one thing just messing around in the quad, because Alicia offered me hers too, for a bit. Actually wearing Bobby’s stuff throughout the day though would have IMPLICATIONS. I maybe like Bobby, and he seems interested, too, but. No, not ready for THAT level of attention and gossip, right now. Not today.

“Alright,” Bobby said with an exasperated sigh.

“Sorry,” Tabitha genuinely felt guilty.

He was either difficult for her to read, or she just wasn’t on the top of her game this morning, because she couldn’t tell if he really understood what her wearing his jacket might imply. Or, perhaps he did understand, and was reluctant to take the jacket back because her passing it back was like shooting him down—or, then on the other hand maybe he was just totally indifferent to worrying about what everyone might think. Possibly, Bobby wasn’t concerned with any of these social minutia and was just hurt that his gesture of goodwill was being rejected.

Tabitha cast several discreet glances his way as he put his jacket back on, but she couldn’t get a grasp on his attitude about it.

Damnit. I’m all like, OKAY, GAME FACE TIME, PAY ATTENTION TO EVERYTHING—and then I immediately just start overthinking EVERY LITTLE THING. Just… just be cool, Tabitha. Don’t overthink it. Also don’t just go through today without paying attention to things. Just moderately think it. Pay a reasonable amount of attention to things.

Like yesterday, Coach Baylor was scanning through a roll call sheet on a clipboard and marking students off when they arrived, and then immediately sending them out to jog around the track. Something was off, however, because the moment Coach Baylor looked up and saw Tabitha arriving, a look of unguarded irritation flashed across the woman’s features.

Are we… late? Tabitha wondered, her step almost faltering. No, we shouldn’t be. There’s a whole bunch of other kids just getting here. What did I—

“Tabitha Moore,” Coach Baylor called over—skipping over Bobby. “Where’s your jacket? You were wearing one yesterday.”

“Oh, I—uhh,” Tabitha flushed again. “I forgot it.”

“You forgot it?” Coach Baylor stared at her, and she seemed angry. “Where did you forget it?”

“Um, I guess just…” Tabitha floundered at the unexpected hostility. “At home?”

“You forgot it at home,” Coach Baylor said.

“Yeah,” Tabitha admitted, incredibly embarrassed.

The situation seemed strange, and the unexpected spotlight on her drew a look from one of the other girls who was just getting here. Coach Baylor searched Tabitha’s expression as though she was about to give her stern words or reprimand her—but eventually just pursed her lips and looked off into the distance. She looked angry, and Tabitha had no idea that forgetting her coat this morning would evoke this much of a response.

“Bobby Anderson,” Coach Baylor eventually acknowledged his arrival. “Set your things there, go run. Tabitha Moore—present today. Wait right there. Mackenzie Brown—here, take my keys. I’d like you to go unlock the classroom for Tabitha, then head back here. Thank you. Tabitha? Head on over and sit inside. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Um. Okay?” The other girl just arriving—Mackenzie, apparently—accepted the lanyard of keys from Coach Baylor, and then looked towards Tabitha.

“Am I… in trouble?” Tabitha blurted out.

“Not exactly,” Coach Baylor frowned. “Head on inside and wait for me there. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Okay,” Tabitha said.

Then, she turned and walked with Mackenzie over to the double doors leading beneath the stadium seating. As Tabitha cast a last guilty glance back, Bobby was dragging his feet setting down his backpack and coat, lingering about and obviously curious as to what was going on—but, the last thing Tabitha saw there was Coach Baylor shooing him on with a gesture of her clipboard. Grace and Tiffany were also just showing up as Tabitha was leaving and they noticed her, but were too far away to say anything.

Tabitha followed Mackenzie through the double doors, feeling like this whole day had started on the wrong foot… and each step afterwards had carried it further in that wrong direction.

“What did you do?” Mackenzie asked in an incredulous whisper.

“I don’t know!” Tabitha gave the girl a stiff laugh. “I, uh. I just forgot my jacket.”

“Is it like a rule that we have to bundle up?” Mackenzie asked. “Not everyone had a coat yesterday.”

“I dunno,” Tabitha shook her head. “Not that I’d heard of? Just. Maybe, since I’m not allowed to run, yet. Doctor’s note; no physical activity. Then, I guess she doesn’t want me sitting outside in the cold if I don’t have a jacket? I don’t know.”

“I guess?” Mackenzie shrugged.

Tabitha didn’t remember Mackenzie as one of the possibly antagonistic girls that stood around with Amanda, but Mackenzie also hadn’t warmed up to the little clique of Vanessa, Tabitha, Marisa, Grace, and Tiffany. She was just one of the other girls in class whose face Tabitha recognized, but hadn’t started to put a name to just yet. She had dark hair in a ponytail and didn’t seem friendly or unfriendly—Mackenzie figured out which key opened the classroom on the second try, and then swung the door open for Tabitha.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Then Mackenzie headed back, leaving Tabitha to turn on the lights and wander down the row of empty desks to grab a seat near the heater. The space heater had been turned on already but hadn’t been running for very long, and the cinderblock room felt especially cold and eerie now that she was in here alone. Tabitha wasn’t really sure what to think, and after sitting and looking around the furnishings of the classroom for a few minutes she finally noticed.

Her Coca Cola Polar Bear towel was neatly folded on Coach Baylor’s desk.

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It was a long, tense twenty minutes before Coach Baylor arrived alone, closing the door behind her and striding across the classroom with a look of annoyance. Tabitha found herself anxious and flustered, and despite trying to reason with herself and run through all the possibilities in her head, it seemed like a sure bet that for some reason or another she was being removed from the course. While it was only the third day of the new semester and she’d barely dipped a single toe into this class or its coursework, Tabitha still felt a little devastated. She’d made friends here, she was part of a little impromptu posse of girls, and she would feel very aggrieved to have to leave them behind for any reason.

“Okay,” Coach Baylor paced over to her desk and put a hand on the folded towel for emphasis. “You forgot your jacket. At home?”

“Y-yes,” Tabitha swallowed. “I just… I wasn’t really thinking this morning. I guess. I, uh, I felt like I maybe wouldn’t really need it, or… I didn’t want to deal with hauling it around or having it be a hassle?”

“Okay,” Coach Baylor searched Tabitha’s expression for a long moment before continuing.

So…? Tabitha felt bewildered.

“Yesterday, during fifth period, a girl took your towel from the line in the girl’s locker room, and put it into her bag,” Coach Baylor revealed. “Another student informed me, and I was able to track this girl down, pull her out of sixth period, and immediately get the towel back. She claimed that this was her friend’s towel, and that this friend asked her to grab it for her. Did you ask anyone to remove this towel here on your behalf yesterday?”

For several excruciating seconds, Tabitha was too stunned to even answer.

“No,” Tabitha said, feeling a cold, sinking feeling deaden itself in the pit of her stomach. “No. I didn’t.”

“I suspected as much,” Coach Baylor tapped the cloth for emphasis and slid it towards Tabitha. “Just in case anything was done to it, I took it home and laundered it. It’s clean. I’m going to suggest you keep it in your locker for the time being, while I sort things out. I have not had a chance yet to track down this other girl who supposedly said it was hers, but I will be doing that in the next few hours. The girl who took the towel will be written up, and I’ll be speaking with the administrators about it. Again—you did not ask anyone to take your towel for you?”

“I did not,” Tabitha said.

“Okay,” Coach Baylor grit her teeth in anger. “And. You forgot your jacket somewhere, or you ‘forgot’ your jacket somewhere?”

“I… uh,” Tabitha flushed as she connected the dots. “I think it really is just. I think I forgot it at home.”

Again Coach Baylor stared, clearly not believing her.

“I should be able to bring it in tomorrow,” Tabitha promised. “I swear.”

“Alright,” Coach Baylor shook her head. “This should not have happened, and I apologize. Certainly not after those incidents last semester. We’re very fortunate that this time someone was able to inform me right away. If anything at all happens—an-y-thing, I’d like you to come to me right away. Please keep your eyes and ears open. If someone says something, if you hear word of who’s done what—well. I’ll probably hear it before you do, but I’d like you to come to me anyways, and everything will be addressed and taken care of. Can you do that for me?”

“I will,” Tabitha nodded quickly.

“Varsity cheer was having additional tryouts so that we could pad out the size of our team a bit more,” Coach Baylor said, crossing her arms. “However. Now, because of this.. we will actually have an open position.”

“Oh,” Tabitha blinked. “...Oh.”

“Yes,” Coach Baylor visibly seethed. “She’s getting a write-up, I don’t know if she’ll see a suspension or not. I’ll be taking that up with administration today. But, my girls will not have that kind of behavior and expect to remain on the team.”

“I, uh… then should I even…?” Tabitha’s head was spinning. If there’s already cheerleaders—NONE OF WHOM I EVEN KNOW—THAT against me, then how could I expect them to ever accept having Elena or I in cheer?!

“I’ll be speaking with everyone about this, and we’re going to reach an understanding,” Coach Baylor said. “I do still want to encourage you to join cheer, so you can maybe believe how personally embarrassing and completely unacceptable this incident is to me—any and all rumors going around about you are going to stop, period, and all of this petty bullying bullshit is going to have immediate consequences. Please excuse my language.”

“It’s okay,” Tabitha gave the woman a wincing smile. “None of this was your fault. I’m getting used to it.”

“Don’t,” Coach Baylor said, turning and pacing again with a small hiss—her first few steps were hobbling ones as she got her bad knee into motion again.

“Don’t get used to it, because this is not okay, and this is not going to go on. Not with my girls, and not in any of my classes. In fact—here. For today. You’re cold.”

Coach Baylor opened one of cardboard boxes clustered off to the side of the teacher’s desk and pulled out a gray cheer jacket—a zip-up sweatshirt with SHS emblazoned in block letters across the breast and SPRINGTON SPIRIT in large blue print on the back, as well as running down both sleeves. The woman dropped that one back into the box and rifled through the folded cheer jackets there for a moment as she eyeballed Tabitha for the appropriate size.

“Oh, no—no, that’s okay, really,” Tabitha protested. “I—I don’t even know how much those are. I only had enough money on me to cover my locker. And, aren’t those just for cheerleaders?”

“We’ll worry about that some other time,” Coach Baylor said, pulling another one out and shaking it loose. “Please, I insist. You look like a Medium, but a Large might be more comfy?”

----------------------------------------

As the school day rolled on, Tabitha found herself stewing in feelings of aggravation. The other Personal Fitness kids came in after running and her friends in this class clustered around her and they all talked—but Tabitha’s mind wasn’t really there, and she wouldn’t have been able to recall any of the topics they were passing back and forth throughout the conversation. She was given a worksheet to fill out that seemed to be for assessing their general fitness knowledge, but she wasn’t able to focus on the questions.

She filled the first answer in and then just kind of stared at the page, occasionally chatting back and forth about nothing with Tiffany and Vanessa.

No one brought up the new Springton Spirit sweatshirt she was wearing, though Vanessa did at one point raise eyebrows and give her a knowing look. Tabitha wasn’t sure what the girl thought she knew. She wasn’t sure about a lot of things, today.

Throughout the next two classes her cheerleader jacket drew unusual stares and she suspected people were talking about it, but Tabitha was too exhausted to care, right now. She took solace in assigned reading from the textbook in one classroom, and then stared in a daze with the rest of the students as the teacher lectured and scribbled incomprehensible words on the dry erase board for the next. Before she knew it, the bell for lunchtime was sounding, and Tabitha trudged upon listless feet through the busy hallways out to the quad where she always met up with Elena and Alicia.

Finally remembered to bring in the Gameboy, and honestly? Tabitha let out a silent laugh. I kind of just want to lay my head down on the table and nap through all of lunch. I’m REALLY not feeling today.

Because she was moving slowly this afternoon, both of her friends were already waiting for her at their usual table—though there was no Bobby today—and both Elena and Alicia were evaluating her new look with interest as Tabitha slipped into her seat. Before she could explain herself, however, their table was approached by two unfamiliar blonde girls.

Two unfamiliar blonde girls that were wearing the exact same Springton cheer jackets that Tabitha had on.

“Hey—so we meant to come over here and apologize,” The tall one said. “I guess there was some sort of a mix up, and she accidentally took your towel, instead of mine??”

“You what?” Alicia blurted out in disbelief. “You stole her towel?!”

“No, there was a mix-up,” The shorter cheerleader waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Coach Baylor said she already sorted it out. Right?”

“Oh,” Tabitha held their gaze for a long, uncomfortable beat. “Well, I would love to accept your apology.”

The two cheerleaders’ expressions soured further, and they exchanged can you BELIEVE the nerve of her glances with one another before turning back to Tabitha.

“But?” The taller one scowled. “You say ‘you would love to accept our apology,’ meaning, but—?”

“But, you haven’t apologized yet,” Tabitha found she altogether didn’t care about burning bridges right now. “You only said you intended to come over and do that. You haven’t actually done it.”

The two girls looked confused for a moment, but after parsing her words, the confusion turned into irritation.

“Are you a psychopath?” The first girl asked, leveling an incredulous stare at Tabitha.

“No?” Tabitha almost wanted to laugh. “At worst, you could say I’m being petty?”

She just felt so over it with today that she feared her attitude was turning giddy, unhinged. The feeling was wretched—it was as though some civil, reasonable part of her had sloughed away, revealing that bitter, manic Tabitha just underneath. It was the same feeling she’d experienced yesterday when ‘going off’ on Amanda. It was the same awful feeling of having well thought out, carefully constructed arguments to use when speaking with her father, but then discovering instead that an unbelievably angry immature part of herself was suddenly puppeting her movements on white-hot strings of rage to vomit out a rambling incoherent mess of a rant.

“I’m the party that’s been wronged though, so isn’t it my privilege to be a little petty?” Tabitha continued before she could stop herself. “You come over here, with crossed arms and annoyed looks and you corner me, and you offer words that superficially seem like an apology, but aren't one—so, I measured my response with the exact same kind of semantics?”

“Uh, news flash—when we say we meant to come over and apologize, it basically means the same thing as apologizing??”

“Yeah, are you completely retarded?”

“Let me guess?” Tabitha stared them down. “Apologizing to me must have been one of the conditions laid out for you. To avoid consequences. Coach Baylor is going to ask me later if you apologized to me. I’ll tell her ‘No, but they meant to, or at least, they said they meant to.’ While they were scoffing and sneering at me with arms crossed, calling me retarded, calling me a psychopath—”

“Okay, then?” The taller girl smirked. “Here you go, then; yeah sorry?? There—I hope you’re happy?? I said it, and now you can’t say that I didn’t. Hah.”

“Yah, SOR-RY.”

“That’s not an apology,” Elena butted in. “When—”

“Shut up, Wednesday Addams,” The tall girl retorted. “Look at me, durr-hurr-hurr, I dress all dark and special, because I want attention! Shut the fuck up.”

“I just copy all of my bimbo friends, because I’m so terrified of not fitting in!” Elena shot back. “Look at me, I’m yet another blonde sorority bimbo!”

Okay, Elena… that sounds like a line directly from Ziggy. Are we turning this into a goth or alternative versus preppy girl culture war thing, now?

“Uhh, it’s called having taste?” The shorter one made a face. “Maybe you should try it, someday? Jealous, much?”

“Yeah, there’s this little thing called fashion?? Maybe you haven’t heard of it??”

The taller cheerleader—Tabitha hadn’t even learned their names yet—had a rising lilt to the end of each of her sentences Tabitha recognized as a high rising terminal, because that questioning inflection had been one of the memorable first arguments she had with the editor her publisher set up with her. Back then, Tabitha had ended some sentences with question marks even when grammatically the sentences were statements, to indicate the character speaking was performing them with that rising inflection as if they were questions.

When she heard it used here in front of her, it came off as intentionally exaggerated, like this girl spoke in that manner to mock the stereotypical ‘valley girl’ cadence she might have picked up on TV. Her usage was so exaggerated, in fact, that if Tabitha were to express it in writing she would use double question marks, which would have sent her assigned editor into absolute conniptions. Tabitha stood by it, though—just as language evolved, so too did punctuation culture. She may have been a child of the nineties, but generations and generations of youth after her were used to communicating with one another through texts and shorthand, and sussing out inflection by the amount of question marks added to something had long since been worked out to an exact science.

The tall girl’s cheerleader friend didn’t set out to annoy with her inflection but was instead surprisingly expressive, and every time she rolled her eyes she also distorted her entire face into a sarcastic groan of mockery that Tabitha was a little impressed by. For a moment she felt a pang of regret, because this girl seemed funny, fun to be around or like she had a great sense of humor. In other circumstances Tabitha would have enjoyed being her friend, and it was a shame that they would probably be at odds, now.

It’s like when some amazing actor is cast in a very perfunctory role, and they give it their all but that just makes the casting feel like even more of a waste, Tabitha thought. Instead of us becoming great friends, to me she just winds up being stuck in this one-dimensional bully stereotype and I doubt there’s any way we can be friends.

“I don’t think you even realize what you’re getting yourself into,” The taller one mocked, turning back to leer down at Tabitha. “You have no idea. We can ruin your life.”

“Oh, is that a threat?” Tabitha blinked. “Are you going to try to murder me? Really? Right here in front of everyone?”

“Are you insane?” The expressive one blurted out, but both cheerleaders were gawking at her, now.

“Because, Erica Taylor tried to murder me,” Tabitha made a show of sizing the pair up and finding them wanting. “Right in the middle of a crowded party. What else are you going to do, then, push me? Convince someone else to give me a nasty shove, when I’m not looking?”

Tabitha waggled her cast.

“Because, that’s been done before, too,” Tabitha shrugged. “You’ll just get expelled. Hmm, let me guess—you’ll talk shit about me? Spread rumors? ‘Ruin my social life?’ Tabitha’s a slut, she’s sleeping around with so-and-so. Tabitha’s a fake. Tabitha got lipo and plastic surgery. Tabitha is the trailer trash fatty, watch out for WIDE LOAD Tubby Tabby. Everyone’s already doing that, though??”

On reflex it slipped out—she’d thrown that mocking interrogative lilt right back at them, and it felt weird—wrong. Just yesterday, she had fretted over turning into the same kind of girl that bullied her, and this felt like a stark indicator that that transformation was in fact happening. Suppressing a grimace of disgust with herself, Tabitha continued on.

“For you, slander and smears going around about you is ohmigod, the end of the world,” Tabitha gave them a helpless shrug. “For me? It’s just another Wednesday.”

“We said we’re sorry, so get over yourself,” The taller girl changed from her incredulous antagonistic tact to a sniff of indifference. “We said it, so you can’t say that we didn’t?? Everyone heard us.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to convey every ounce of the sincerity you’ve given me,” Tabitha lifted both eyebrows up and forced a smile. “So, yeah. Are we done, here? Can you just… go?”

For an instant the shorter one’s expression shifted and Tabitha was afraid that she’d gone too far with her taunt—that she’d caught a flicker or flash of actual rage barely being concealed in time. That maybe the girl was about to do something. To slap her, maybe, spit in her face, to say some terrible unexpected thing. But then, Elena at the other side of the table stood up—and immediately the hushed surrounding onlookers went dead quiet, filling the entire quad with tense silence.

How does Elena just STANDING UP FROM HER SEAT feel like it escalates this already bad situation way, way out of control?! Tabitha thought as she fought down a surge of panic.

“Yeah, okaaay,” The girl finally scoffed. “Bye, weirdos.”

“Fucking weirdos.”

The two stormed off, and everyone watched Elena glaring at the departing figures with expectation. With slow, careful movements Elena folded her arms in front of her and gave the cheerleaders a dismissive huff before dropping back down into her seat. Only then did all of the chatter throughout the seating areas resume—but it was painfully obvious that everyone was still staring their way.

“Holy shit,” Alicia whispered, shoulders still tensed up. “Like—holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Tabitha sighed, sagging down against the table.

She didn’t want everyone to see that her hands were shaking, and she flooded with relief when only Alicia seemed to notice. Her friend reached across the table and grabbed her good hand, giving her repeated squeezes. Whatever cocktail of hormones and adrenaline had been holding those puppet strings of confrontation aloft, those lines were all going slack now, and Tabitha felt like she was really crashing down.

“That was. So. Badass,” Alicia praised. “Seriously. Both of you! Like, holy shit. Tabs babe, you blew up on her. And, ‘Lena—when you stood up?! I totally thought you were about to like, fight her.”

“I was,” Elena hugged both arms across herself and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Sorry.”

“N-no, no, I—thank you,” Tabitha blurted out. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I, uh—I probably shouldn’t have, um. Done all of that. Said anything. Should’ve just. Gone with their ‘apology,’ and brushed it off. I. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, today.”

“They were being totally fake, is what’s wrong,” Elena scowled. “Everyone saw it. They said sorry but didn’t mean it at all. Of course they didn’t mean it. I hope this gets them suspended. Stealing your stuff got Clarissa suspended, so. It should.”

“I don’t know,” Tabitha let out a bitter laugh. “I just. I probably just made more trouble for myself, and. And I feel like I want to throw up.”

“They started it!” Alicia leaned in to whisper in a harsh voice. “So, no. No. This is all on them.”

“Hah,” Tabitha shook her head. “Don’t start none, won’t be none? That’s a saying in the future.”

“It’s a saying now,” Elena chuckled.

“Yeahhh—Tabs, I think that’s a Will Smith line already,” Alicia grinned. “Men in Black.”

“I’ve never seen any of them,” Tabitha shrugged. “Yes, ‘any of them,’ I know there’ll be like five of them, though.”

“Uh-huh,” Elena remained skeptic. “But, uh. Seriously. Are you okay?”

“No,” Tabitha shrugged again. “I’m not. But, I have you guys here with me, and—”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Alicia groaned. “The second they stepped up, like—”

“—And it’s whatever,” Tabitha squeezed Alicia’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve come a long ways, feels like earlier this year I could barely even talk back to Carrie. Now… well. I don’t know that I’m progressing in a good way, but I am progressing. I’m just. So over all of this bullshit. Fuck. You know, I’m just now realizing—I didn’t even get their names.”

----------------------------------------

Because Mrs. Clarke was standing at the doorway for Spanish II and watching students arrive, Olivia kept her goodbyes with Michael chaste and gave him a simple peck on the cheek and then a wave before hurrying on past her teacher’s smirk. Michael had class on the opposite side of campus from her after lunch but still he held hands with her and escorted her to her class first every day. As always it felt great showing off—not all that many in her grade had boyfriends, and those that did didn’t have ones that doted on her like Michael did.

Their Spanish class had started the second semester with a rather droll review of the previous semester, and just now were they starting to tackle preterite and imperfects. Foreign language wasn’t compulsory for high school graduation in Kentucky high schools, so although Spanish I was relatively popular, attendance thinned for Spanish II and then Spanish III wasn’t able to even fill all of the classroom seats. Though that meant less people to practice speaking Spanish with, it did start to give the courses more of an ‘elite’ feel, like Olivia was at the top of Springton academically.

Even the college track here only requires two foreign language credits, so a bunch of the people here will probably call a quits on Spanish before next year, Olivia surmised. Big mistake! If they try to pick it up again in college, after not having practice or kept up with it for a year or two? Yeah, good luck.

She was fortunate enough to be able to practice Spanish with her mother… although that often devolved into playful arguments over pronunciations and which was ‘right’ Spanish—Spain’s Spanish, or Mexican Spanish. Her mom’s grasp of the language was more ‘informal’ and hewed towards a casual spoken dialect made all the more colorful with liberal use of swear words. Olivia had joked about some of that with Mrs. Clarke, but didn’t dare to actually repeat a lot of what her mother had said word for word. Still, Spanish II was a great class; Olivia had advantages over her peers, quite a few of her friends and frenemies were seated near her, and she was always in a great mood after spending lunch with Michael.

Olivia found herself humming the bars from Jewel’s You Were Meant For Me to herself as she crossed the classroom and dropped down into her spot. Not that many other people had arrived yet, so she made herself comfortable the way all high schoolers did—putting her feet up on the book rack beneath the chair in front of her and slouching deep into her seat. The whiteboard at the front of the room had assignments written in Spanish, and it took her a minute to start puzzling through and translating some of the words that didn’t come to her naturally.

“Olivia! Olivia, oh my God,” Faith blurted out, rushing down her row of desks. “Did you hear? You must’ve already heard—I’m so sorry. Oh my God.”

Many small town religious parents gave their daughters virtue names like ‘Hope’ and ‘Charity,’ and Faith was, in Olivia’s opinion, a hellspawn who made it her life’s mission to rebel against her family’s expectations. She had been a bandwagon ‘country gal’ with a stuffed bra back in middle school, but when she filled out with enormous breasts during puberty Faith grew into the wrong kind of confidence. Now she was bleached blonde, a cheerleader, an infamously rotten bitch, and according to the fragrance of her breath she was an avid cigarette smoker at sixteen. She remained popular because there were dozens of girls just like her here, and those types were threaded through the echelons of Springton High with enough prevalence that few people wanted to provoke the whole bunch of them.

Faith and Olivia didn’t like each other and weren’t friends, but because they were often stuck together in classes and did have several mutual friends, they were friendly acquaintances with one another for the most part. They were able to be catty with each other, but there was an unspoken agreement to never dig too deep at each other and escalate petty grievances into actual drama for no real reason.

“What?” Olivia perked up with attention at word of something involving her. “About me? Heard what?”

“About Michael!” Faith dropped down into the seat behind Olivia—that was Jake’s seat, but Jake wasn’t here yet—and leaned in close so they could speak ‘privately.’

“That freshman slut Tabitha? The one everyone’s always talking about? So, she invited Michael to this birthday party she had, and. I heard they were making out. Like, ‘Livia I know you and him ‘broke up,’ but everyone knows you two aren’t really ‘broken up,’ like not for real. I can’t believe he would—”

“You heard that?” Olivia couldn’t help but grin in amusement. “...Wow.”

“I’m being so serious!” Faith seemed to regard Olivia’s nonchalance with disbelief. “Everyone’s talking about it. For some reason Tabitha invited him, and he went without you, and—”

“No he didn’t,” Olivia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Not withou—”

“He did!” Faith hissed. “He did, though. I’m being so serious. My friend Liz, like, the second she heard, she asked him if he went. He said he did.”

“No, I’m not saying he didn’t go,” Olivia laughed. “I’m saying he didn’t go without me.”

“Uhh—what?” Faith blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was there,” Olivia explained. “Duh. Tabitha didn’t invite just him. She invited both of us. Movie and then off to a skating rink.”

“But, Michael and Tabitha were making out?” Faith said. “Everyone’s—”

“No,” Olivia shot that strange assertion down. “They weren’t. I was making out with Michael for like, the whole movie. Tabitha was sitting down the row with her freshman friends. They didn’t ride to the skating thing together. And, once we were there? I was either with Michael the whole time, and for like the forty or so minutes I wasn’t? I was sitting with Tabitha. So, no. They did not make out ever, at any point. Someone made that the fuck up.”

“O-oh,” Faith let out a small laugh. “Wow, then. Well—I guess—you’re really sure?”

“Yee-up,” Olivia’s eyebrows rose.

“She’s still a slut, though,” Faith said. “From what I’ve heard—”

“Nah,” Olivia pursed her lips. “S’all BS.”

“No, I’m serious,” Faith insisted. “I just went up with Desiree during lunch and tried to talk to her. She’s so full of herself. She’s trying to force Coach Baylor to kick Desiree off the cheer team, so her and her weirdo friend can get in. She’s psychotic.”

“Who did what, now?” Nicole asked, slipping into the desk beside them.

“Tabitha,” Faith muttered under her breath. “The freshman slut. She—”

“I wouldn’t believe anything you hear about her,” Olivia cut Faith off with a shrug. “Bitches are just making up stories about her to stir up drama. Again. Faith here was just trying to tell me Tabitha and Michael were making out at some party—except, I was there, and that didn’t happen. One hundred percent just someone spreading bullshit to try an’ cause trouble.”

“S’not what I heard,” Faith mumbled under her breath, shaking her head in faux dismay as if pitying Olivia’s ignorance on the matter. “My friend said that this girl Ashlee was there, and that she saw them making out. It was when they were all at a movie together, I think?”

“Yeah—didn’t happen,” Olivia shrugged. “Ashlee’s one of the Taylor sisters, she didn’t even see the movie with us, she showed up late and was all fuming about it the whole night. Some kind of grudge, there. So, don’t believe a word she says.”

“You went to Tabitha’s party?” Nicole asked, eyes lighting up with interest. “How was it? What’s she really like?”

“She’s a dumb slut,” Faith made a face. “She’s so freakin’ full of herself.”

“Nah,” Olivia chuckled. “She’s cool. Quiet and calm, seems really like—I don’t know. Put together. Like you know that freshman spaz energy where they’re all spastic and just kind of talking to hear themselves talk? Nothing like that. She’s more like, uhh. Like Janaye, you know Janaye? Calm, collected. Thinks before she speaks.”

“Yeah?” Nicole remarked with interest. “Huh.”

“She totally is not,” Faith scowled. “She thinks she’s all that, but really she’s this total loser.”

“If you say so,” Olivia smirked.

“She’s trying to get Desiree kicked off the team,” Faith growled. “For practically like, no reason. Just because she didn’t like the way she apologized. As if that’s even—”

“Apologized… for what?” Olivia gave Faith a knowing look. “What’d she do?”

“Nothing, basically,” Faith scoffed. “It’s this total bull. Coach Baylor’s making us apologize, even though we didn’t do anything wrong! It was a total accident.”

“What was a total accident?” Nicole asked with a grin.

“I asked Desiree to grab my towel and take it home, but she grabbed the wrong one,” Faith spread out her hands in a gesture of disbelief. “Totally and completely not a big deal. At all. Since when—”

“You guys stole her towel?” Olivia burst out laughing, turned to sit forward, and then twisted back again to give Faith a look of mirth. “Are you friggin serious? Her towel, now?”

“We didn’t steal anything, it was an accident!” Faith hissed. “She just grabbed the wrong one. It’s not even any kind of big deal or something to apologize for.”

“Yeah, okay,” Olivia snorted. “It’s, what, the third day of the new semester, barely anyone even brought their towels in, yet! But, somehow, you guys are trying to take one home? Yeah, right, Faith. I smell bullshit.”

“It was just an accident!” Faith was blushing, now. “Stop it. We didn’t freakin—”

“You’re gonna get a five-day suspension for sure,” Olivia teased. “Some other freshman girl took Tabitha’s notebook, yeah, ‘by accident’ just like that last semester. Called up to the office; five day suspension. The deans are super jumpy about anything to do with bullying Tabitha now, after the whole Chris Thompson thing. The whole Erica Taylor thing. That girl spreading shit about Tabitha messing around with a teacher? She got a suspension, too.”

“Yeah, and Chris and Erica got expelled,” Nicole laughed. “I never liked Chris, he was a douchebag.”

“It was an accident, so they can’t do anything,” Faith sniffed. “Besides, like—Olivia I thought you’d be on our side. Especially with what everyone’s saying about Tabitha and Micheal. I was totally trying to be supportive and—”

“Except, durr-hurr-hurr all of that was made up,” Olivia arched an eyebrow. “Someone trying to turn people against Tabitha, just made it the fuck up. Probably the Taylor sisters.”

“Yeah, probably,” Nicole nodded along. “Brittney Taylor’s always talking bad about her. Or like saying that the thing with Erica wasn’t even that big of a deal, or like Tabitha and them were just trying to exaggerate it.”

“I was there, too,” Olivia laughed. “S’the reason Michael and I got invited to Tabitha’s birthday thing. He was the one who tackled Erica off of her when she was beating the shit out of her with a bat. I know I told you guys.”

“Yeah,” Nicole said. “Can’t believe she’d snap like that, though. She was always cool here in school.”

“I can,” Olivia shrugged. “Ton of people here in each of the grades are just full of crazy. Full of crazy that’s just looking for some way to burst out. Right, Faith?”

“We didn’t even do anything wrong,” Faith repeated with a sour look. “Psh. I’m not apologizing to her. She can’t even be on the team in the first place—she’s got a broken freaking arm.”

“Exactly, so—why are y’all going out of your way to hassle her and start trouble?” Olivia smirked. “Even if the school just lets you off with a slap on the wrist, you know Coach Baylor won’t.”

----------------------------------------

As the day warmed up, wearing the gifted Springton Spirit cheerleader jacket over her hoodie grew more and more uncomfortable. Or at least, Tabitha wanted to tell herself it was just the temperature making her start to sweat. She had been aware in a rather oblique way that Elena as a ‘goth’ planning to try out for cheerleading was a dicey topic that was getting pushback from people. Donning a varsity cheer jacket herself and having the audacity to wear it around school today seemed to be bombshell news to everyone; open provocation to the cheerleader girls.

People were staring in the halls again when she walked from one class to another, heads were turning and kids were doing double-takes when they saw her. Leaving fifth period behind to make her way to the last class of the day felt like stepping through a minefield. An unfamiliar upperclassman girl waylaid her in the T-junction of one of the hallways and asked if she had joined cheer; all Tabitha could say in response was that she hadn’t tried out yet. She had made a vague gesture with her injured hand as if to explain why as she passed on by, only realizing many steps later that beneath the two layers of sleeve no one could probably even tell she was wearing a cast right now.

The increased level of attention on her was stifling, and Tabitha took small respite in the small pockets of teenagers amidst the crowd who didn’t seem to know or care about the significance of what she was wearing. Not everyone in the student body paid her any mind, it just felt that way when so many stares turned hostile and so many girls were back to ducking in and whispering to their friends when she walked by.

Tabitha wove through the stream of students passing through the halls and ducked in front of a group of girls coming from the other way that were about to cut her off. She took the final stretch of distance to the art room with hurried steps, insisting to herself that she just wanted to sit down and rest.

I feel like today has just wrung me out.

People glanced up when she appeared in the door of the art room, but Tabitha kept her head down and skirted around the large art tables to table six in the corner.

“Did you hook up with Michael Summers?!” Vanessa blurted out the moment she grabbed a tall stool. “Tabitha—what gives?!”

“Michael Summers?” Tabitha echoed, daring to scan the room for a moment and not finding the boy. “No?”

And, holy cow Vanessa, ‘HOOK UP?’ I know you mean like, get together or start to date but, wow. When you’re older isn’t that more implying something a LOT more?

“Like, I know Tiffany said something about him yesterday, but I thought she was just kidding,” Vanessa laughed. “But now, everyone’s talking about it. Apparently, you two were fooling around after some party, and now his ex-girlfriend Olivia’s super mad about it?”

“They both went to my birthday party?” Tabitha gave Vanessa a helpless shrug. “I know Michael has this class with us. He sits over there.”

“But, you two didn’t hook up?” Vanessa peeked across the room. “Which one is he again? Is he cute?”

“So you’ve heard that him and I are fooling around, but you wouldn’t recognize him in person?” Tabitha was a little amused.

“I would!” Vanessa gave her a guilty smile. “Probably. I think I basically know who he is. Everyone’s talking about it, now.”

“Great,” Tabitha sighed. “Just… great. Yesterday it was, what, Matt Haynes? Whom I’ve never even met. Today, I guess it’s Michael.”

“Hey,” Amber strode up to their table. “Were you making out with Michael after some party? Michael Summers.”

This is the girl who made fun of me for starting to come out of my shell and talk to Elena in Marine Science last semester.

“Sadly, I was not,” Tabitha informed her. “I, well. I tried and tried, but Olivia was there playing defense. Had no way of prying those two apart?”

“Yeah, I heard Olivia wasn’t even there,” Amber smirked. “But, for real, were you—”

“We did not make out or fool around or hook up,” Michael explained in a rush, having hurried over to explain the moment he stepped into the room and spotted Amber cornering Tabitha. “Whoever’s saying that is lying. There was—”

“I was just double-checking with Tabitha herself, gosh,” Amber teased. “Like, I was just asking. Chill. Guilty conscience, much?”

Stacy Campbell—the other girl who was supposed to sit with them at table six—arrived, but seemed intimidated of Amber and hesitant to step into the crossfire to claim her normal barstool here.

“When was this party?” Vanessa asked, interested. “Who all was there?”

“It was my fourteenth birthday party,” Tabitha admitted. “Last month.”

“Wait, you just turned fourteen?!” Amber gave Tabitha a baffled look. “Shouldn’t you be in eighth grade, then? Instead of ninth? Like, wow, way to rob the cradle, Michael. Jesus Christ.”

“We did not in any way, shape, or form—”

“Olivia’s gonna fuckin’ murder you both!” Amber was beside herself with glee. “Really stuck your nose in the wrong hornet’s nest, this time. Christ. Say whatever you want, someone already saw you two making out after some party.”

“About Tabitha and Michael?” One of the other girls joined in to crowd around their table. “Actually, turns out they didn’t? Olivia said she was there the whole time, that someone’s just making up stories.”

“Yeah, I dunno about that,” Amber was skeptical. “Probably Olivia’s just trying to play things down so everyone’s not fuggin laughing at her. I heard this girl Ashlee was there and saw it all, that she was saying these two were making out.”

“We weren’t, though—” Michael’s face was going red. “Whoever’s saying that doesn’t—”

“But hey, none of mah business,” Amber cut him off with a derisive snort, holding up her hands. “Y’all can do whatever. I just think it’s funny. More you try and deny it, more I bet it’s true. Pussies. If you did it, then just say you did it. Don’t have to go around lyin’ about it, too.”

“We didn’t—”

The bell for the start of sixth period chimed throughout the school’s intercom, and the bustle of students milling about crossed the room as everyone started to take their seats.

“She doesn’t care, Michael,” Tabitha explained. “Amber doesn’t care what really happened. She’s just happy to stir the pot.”

“See? There we go,” Amber gave Tabitha a knowing wink. “Yeah. You go, girl. Might as well just come out and admit it. No one’s pissy ‘bout it ‘cept Olivia anyways. I just think it’s funny.”

“Alright, alright—break it up, break it up, people,” Mr. Peterson called, waving his hand in their direction. “Siddown, siddown. Michael, Amber, you wanna sit at the kiddie table today? Yeah, I didn’t think so, get back over to your own tables. C’mon, people.”

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slow in relief, Tabitha watched Michael, Amber, and that other girl file back towards their own spots. Vanessa passed out their assignments in progress from the big period six, table six folder, and Eric fiddled with the bottles and wine glasses in the center of the table to adjust them back to how they were supposed to be. When Tabitha examined her own unfinished drawing, it just seemed so amateur that today she had the urge to give up on it and try to start over.

It’s like I can just tell it’s not good, and that working on it more won’t ever make it all that much better, Tabitha stared down at the lines with a defeated sigh. No… that’s not fair, I guess. Just hard to focus and move forward, today.

“So ummm—” Stacy cleared her throat. “Springton Spirit? Are you in for cheerleading?”

“Ugh,” Tabitha grimaced, and then forced out a laugh. “No. Maybe. Kind of? I planned on trying out with my friend; haven’t actually tried out yet. Because, still have my cast, and doctor says no physical activity for a while yet because of the, uh. Brain surgery thing. I… forgot my coat this morning, and Coach Baylor was super nice and lent me this to wear for today.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa gave Stacy a look. “She ‘forgot’ her coat. The towel she hung up in the locker room, it got ‘forgotten’ somewhere, too. They’re really out to get her, this time.”

“No, it’s—” Tabitha sighed. “It’s not exactly like that. They came and, uh. They tried to apologize. Sort of.”

“I heard you flipped out on them,” Vanessa confided in her. “But, then I was like—no way, that’s not Tabitha. They were just trying to all exaggerate it. They really did come to apologize, though?”

“They said they did,” Tabitha gave her a wry smile. “Just… well. I feel like everything and everyone just wants to snowball it into, um. Into a whole big ordeal, so that it’s this big thing to talk about. It’s really not a huge deal or some huge dramatic thing like everyone wants it to be. Just… people being petty.”

“People being petty,” Stacy echoed, nodding her head. “Sounds about right.”

“Doesn’t mean they can start stealing your stuff again,” Vanessa huffed. “Or spreading all sorts of lies about you—like, for real. Didn’t you already go through with all of that? I mean, Clarissa—”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tabitha shot a glance over towards Clarissa, who had been so quiet that they’d barely noticed her today. “I knew that things would be like this, at least a bit, when I came back to school. I knew everyone was going to be out to… test me, before I could expect any kind of warm welcome.”

“Less talking, more drawing,” Eric complained.

“Shut up, Eric,” Vanessa scowled at the boy. “Loser.”

“No, Eric’s right,” Tabitha wore a sheepish smile. “Sorry. This whole day has been super exhausting. Let’s just—I’m gonna just draw.”

I did okay. My heart kind of leapt up into my throat when Amber walked up on us earlier, but I did okay with it. Didn’t freeze. Made a kinda sorta joke about Olivia playing defense that was pretty good, proud of that one. It just came to me! I feel like it’d be funnier to people who’re really familiar with Olivia and Michael, since they’re obviously always all over each other.

Tabitha’s eyes flicked back and forth between her drawing and the bottles in the center of the table, sizing up the proportions.

Just… whew. Feels like, CLOSE ONE? Amber’s one of those aggressive types. If she hadn’t pivoted to starting to attack Michael instead, feel like I might’ve folded. I’m not good with her type. She’s just like—dang, I’m blanking on the name of that girl who tried to hassle me yesterday in Personal Fitness. Her name wasn’t also Amber, was it? It was something LIKE Amber. Amanda? Amelia?

She was a little proud of how she’d stood up for herself against the two cheerleader girls today at lunch, but also that seemed like the product of several sets of coinciding circumstances. Tabitha had been just the right kind of tired of all of this bullshit and so over it mood to sass back at them rather than being her typical doormat self. Just, Tabitha also knew she wasn’t really up for constant confrontations. Stress from that was eating at her, and even more than that, she very honestly did not like herself when others managed to bring out the worst in her. All of her life the previous go-through she had at least prided herself on not having that kind of ugly, bitter inner pettiness she constantly saw in her coworkers.

Seeing it just COME OUT of myself, like just watching mean words spill out of my own mouth and being surprised… just, UGH. I was getting super bitchy with the cheerleader girls, and for no reason. If I’d just went along with their fake apology, things would’ve started to smooth over. Now, instead it’s like—like I just went out of my way to clarify that we’re enemies, that we’re never going to get along. If I’d just lowered my head a bit and pretended, we maybe could have eventually warmed up to each other and been friends later on.

The line she was drawing was skewing at slightly the wrong angle, so Tabitha hurried to erase it and then looked back and forth to eyeball the stem of the outer champagne flute and correct herself.

Thing is… I just didn’t want to be nice. Didn’t want to be friends later. Just didn’t want to play ball with their stupid fake nonsense, today. Why SHOULD I? With THEM? I shove it down as much as I can, but sometimes I just feel so angry at them—AT EVERYTHING—that I just want to SCREAM. I did the best I could with the things I’m feeling. I did pretty okay. All things considered.

Tabitha knew that self-discovery was this big huge part of the whole teenager thing, the process of growing up. But, it felt like they never brought up that sometimes you would discover awful things about yourself. Everyone imagined themselves as the protagonist of their own saga, the hero—running into your own flaws and shortcomings just rankles, and Tabitha hated that some part of her was already making excuses for herself or trying to justify it.

“This sucks,” Vanessa cursed. “Drawing sucks. Why couldn’t I have taken something fun, like painting? Bet I’m way freaking better at painting.”

“You can’t,” Eric commented. “Art 2D is a Painting prereq. Have to take one before you can take the other.”

“Shut up, Eric,” Vanessa scoffed. “Nobody asked you.”