Simkha let the jocks help her back to Jericho. Jennifer led the way, asking Simkha for directions again when they entered the neighborhood.
“First we’ll go to the café, then I’ll show you my place.”
Jennifer and Good-Arms Jock shared a look and turned back to Simkha.
“So… was that enough time to gather your thoughts about whatever happened today? I bet it would be, like, healthy to get your emotions out.”
Simkha gulped. She had asked for a few minutes to think about how to explain her exam failure. But then more important thoughts had interrupted her. So she’d not given the original subject a single thought. She doubted she would be able to communicate what actually happened. But on the other hand, she didn’t want to be a liar to her potential friends. But on the other hand, she was sure she would just frustrate and confuse them if she tried to ad-lib an explanation. But on the other hand, they were already looking at her expectantly.
“Well, I ha-had…had an exam today. And I failed it.”
“Ouch,” said Jennifer. “That fucking sucks.”
Good-Arms Jock winced and nodded.
“Big exam?” asked Leg Day.
Simkha took a long breath. “Yeah. It was… really big. Well, it determines my entire mark for my Diplomatic Historiography module.”
Good-Arms Jock shot Simkha a sympathetic look.
“Fuck.”
“Same. Fuck.”
Simkha thought about what a competent conversationalist would share next. Why? How? Where? Maybe w—
“I guess you’re not really used to failing?’ asked Good-Arms Jock. “Jen heard a rumor you’ve got, like, a really good scholarship. And those things come with some sort of marks-based requirement, don’t they?”
Simkha chewed her lip. She arranged her face into a noncommittal expression and wobbled a hand in a yes-and-no motion.
“I do have a scholarship. I got it partly because I had really good marks back home. Like, really really good marks.”
After a second, Leg Day said “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”
“Uh, yeah. But… I’ve fucked just about everything up since I came to First Oxford. I’m a huge disappointment. Then today, I managed to bung up the entire module.”
“I, like, completely feel your pain,” said Jennifer. “I would be, ugh, just so upset if that happened to me, too. But I would be way, way whinier about it.” Jennifer put on a consciously ditzy expression. “And I would probably blame everything on my professor. Are you, like, at risk of losing your scholarship?”
Simkha turned a flushing face towards the sky. She hobbled into the part of the neighborhood with the new, aggressively bright streetlights. “Well, uh, no. I’m really lucky. That’s part of why I’m such a huge disappointment. My scholarship has really inflexible terms. As in, I would actually have to plan out a strategy if I wanted to lose it. My scholarship is kind of, uh, written into a treaty with my country.”
Jennifer’s jaw dropped. She covered her mouth with her hands.
" w a i t . ” breathed Jennifer, “ a r e y o u a . . . p r i n c e s s ? ”
“What?” asked a baffled-looking Simkha.
“ a r e . y o u . a . p r i n c e s s ? ” Jennifer hissed. She leaned in towards Simkha and clasped her shoulders tight.
“OhMyG*dWhat?” squeaked Simkha. “I’m! I’m… well I’m Jewish for one. There’s no Jewish noble houses in the Tamazgha Republic!”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not a p r i n c e s s ! ” insisted Jennifer. “Maybe you’re from one of the Israels and you just went to Tamazgha as a teen to study in lyceum!”
“I, what?” said Simkha. “Look, we don’t call it ‘lyceum, we’ call it ‘high school’ in Tamazgha.’”
Jennifer grew a massive, devilish grin. “You didn’t… say… you’re not… a p r i n c e s s . ”
“I’m not a princess!” insisted Simkha. She had turned bright red. “None of the Israels even have monarchies any more!”
“I don’t know” deadpanned Leg Day. “Don’t the New Homerites elect a king?”
“That’s a ceremonial title for their elected executive! It doesn’t count! Their current King’s not even a Jew!”
“Then what about the Ashinas, hmm?”
“No! That’s just a regular dictatorship! No royal titles!”
“Beta Israel?”
“I’m not a princess!”
Leg Day looked entertained. Jennifer looked disappointed. The nearby trains grew louder, discordant clanking marking their starts and stops.
“Look,” Simkha grumbled, “because of the treaty, the scholarship technically came from the English King, so only he can revoke it. And that would make him look bad unless I, like, kill somebody. I can’t even give the scholarship up without causing bigger problems. And, that… that’s why I suck. I used to be smart, but now I’m not. And so I’m basically keeping this scholarship from somebody worthwhile.”
Simkha noticed that Leg Day and Good-Arms-Jock were slightly out of step with each other. Whenever Simkha stepped her left foot forward, their differential jostled her right and then left. Simkha tried to adjust herself to even out the jostling, only to notice they had stopped. They had arrived in front of the café .
The café was, of course, closed. The light inside was off, the chairs and tables taken off the sidewalk and stashed inside. The red awning was discolored by a spatter of coffee-colored stains that wasn’t there this morning.
“Oh no,” said Jennifer with a concerned frown, “the caff is closed.”
“I guess? I mean, it’s like 8.15 pm?”
“Oh, I guess. I thought it must be open later, since Simkha wanted to go in.”
“I wanted to go in?” asked Simkha.
“Didn’t you say so?” asked Good-Arms Jock. “I thought you must have heard about, like, a special event or something?”
Leg Day raised an eyebrow at Simkha.
“No…” said Simkha. “I assumed they closed at 5 like always. I am confused.” She frowned. Had she really said she wanted to go in? She didn’t think she had. But Good-Arms Jock and Jennifer were eyeing her with poorly-concealed expressions of concern.
“I-I-I really don’t remember wanting to go in. But I guess I… must have said it?” asked Simkha. “Is it… maybe I could have injured my brain when I fell even though I didn’t hit my head?”
The Jocks shared a concerned look before Good-Arms Jock spoke up. “Could be. Or maybe you just spaced out for a moment. A brain injury can be a lot more serious than your run-of-the-mill sport injury. But sometimes the symptoms masquerade as everyday forgetfulness. We're just students. Perhaps we should take you to a real doctor? Would, uh, would that be okay? I don’t know if Tamazgha has a health-care treaty with the LC?”
Simkha felt her body sag, against her will.
“No. It’s fine,” Simkha mumbled. “Health care is in the terms of my scholarship.”
“Oh, thank god” said Good-Arms Jock. “I was a little scared you people would have private insurance.”
“Same, ” agreed Jennifer. She looked relieved. “But this is good! At least you can see a doctor without, like, going into debt servitude?”
Simkha’s face felt overheated. Her head felt over-pressurized. The front of her torso felt… twisted? Was she about to cry? She noticed Leg Day frowning at her. Why was Leg Day frowning at her too?
Simkha felt weird in her chest, felt each breath start to grow shallow and fast. She felt the clanks and clangs of the nearby trains in her teeth. She felt she was in the past, running again. She was stumbling again. She was falling. Oh G*d. Simkha hated this moment. She could predict the whole bloody crash ahead of her. She had no way to avoid it.
“Wait,” interrupted Leg Day. “Simkha. Simkha. Look at me. I have a question. Where is your flat?”
Simkha blinked through her tears. She wore a baffled expression.
“Uh, there,” said Simkha, weakly pointing at a townhouse on the far side of the café.
Leg Day smiled and sighed. “It’s okay Simkha. You’re fine. No brain injury, no doctor needed.”
“Huh?” said Simkha.
“What?” asked Jennifer.
“Ohhh,” groaned Good-Arms Jock.
“Simkha is fine,” said Leg Day. “We just misunderstood her. She said we would go to the caff, then she would show us to her flat. We thought she meant we should go-to-the-caff go to the caff. Which would have been a problem since it was closed. But she was just giving directions. Like ‘go to the caff then turn left’ directions. Except we don’t need to turn. ”
“Huh?” said Simkha.
“Ughhh!” moaned Jennifer. “Yes. Okay. We were being stupid.”
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Good-Arms Jock sent Simkha a meek grin. “Sorry, Simmie. I swear we’re not, like trying to gaslight you. And while you’ve been having such a shit day too. That was just, like, our really unfortunate misunderstanding.”
“Huh?” said Simkha.
“It’s good, Sims,” said Leg Day. “You’re actually fine. You just lean on us, and we’ll take you back to your palace.”
Nearby, one of the trains laid on its horn in a long, abnormal blast that rattled glass and heralded sharp metallic squeals. Simkha stumbled. She covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t handle this. It was too much. Everything was too much.
“Princess?” asked Leg Day.
“Fuck off!” Simkha stumbled back, bracing herself against the café window. She saw Good-Arms Jock and Leg Day share a meaningful glance. A part of her knew she was being unreasonable. But that part did not have access to her mouth. “Oh my G*d, just go! You don’t have to be here! I could’a called myself a fucking RÿdeShare to get home.” Simkha slumped. “I’m not…! You don’t…! Aaa!”
Simkha felt hot tears drip from her face. She felt turbulent breath catch in her throat. She heard a woman crying. She buried her face behind her arms and knees. Fuck! Why did I say that? Why am I like this? Simkha lost herself. She had no idea how long she cried for. Eventually, she could see through blurry, wet eyes. She realized the others were still with her.
“S-sor-sorry. It’s okay not to deal with me. I’m being a crazy bitch. I’m not worth the hassle.”
“You know,” said Leg Day in a low, soft voice. “I am starting to suspect that I might have gone too far with the princess-based teasing.”
Simkha snorted and sputtered.
Good-Arms Jock grabbed Leg Day’s thigh. “Oh my god, shut up Legs!”
“Nooo,” groaned Simkha, “You were fine. It’s fine. I’m sorry. I don’t think you went too far. I have no idea why I snapped at you. I’m so sorry.”
“Well… for me… the ‘too far’ I care about is that I took things too far for you. I’m sorry I did that. It’s okay to have sore subjects. Maybe you can let me know if I touch on anything sensitive, and I’ll try not to be an asshole with my stupid jokes.”
Simkha nodded, glumly.
“I guess. But… I’m really not good at all this. I’m not… I don’t… I don’t know why you’re still here. I’m pretty awful, and apparently I blow up at nice people for no reason.”
“Who said I was nice? Look, we don’t know you that well yet, but what we do know says you’re not awful. And for what it’s worth, I’m sure you’re worth that scholarship.”
Simkha buried her head again, but Leg Day kept talking.
“I’m not kidding. When you were in that class with Jennifer, she literally talked about how smart you were. Well, she complained about it.”
Simkha heard somebody shove Leg Day.
“Oh my god shut up, that’s embarrassing,” said Jennifer.
“Legs. Babe. Queen.” said Good-Arms Jock. “Shut up about the scholarship. Just give her some time. Sometimes people just need time.”
Simkha looked up, and saw that Leg Day, Good-Arms Jock, and Jennifer were all sat against the wall in a row with her. Jennifer gave Simkha a little smile, and a corny wave. Good-Arms Jock snorted, called Jennifer a “fucking dweeb,” and started waving like the queen. “Greetings, my subject Simkha. ‘Tis I, here to support you. You may proceed to feel comforted. Sorry I left you my idiot son for a king.” Leg Day just looked flushed, wearing an expression that screamed I can’t believe I am friends with these morons.
After a few minutes, Leg Day stood up and stretched her legs. She hauled Simkha to her feet first, followed by Good-Arms Jock and Jennifer. Leg Day arranged herself and Good-Arms Jock to resume their duty as Simkha’s crutches, and the group crossed the street to Simkha’s block.
“You’ve had bad luck today,” said Good-Arms Jock, “Is it possible you angered a witch recently? Dug up a cursed ancient relic?”
Simkha smiled. She did her best to calm down as she unlocked her front door, limped up the stairs to the first floor landing, and hobbled into her small flat. She put her electric kettle on to boil while Jennifer and Good-Arms Jock praised how cute her little place was. She smiled when Leg Day looked around, gave her a nod, and said “no objections.” Finally, Simkha offered everyone tea. She prepared two Yorkshires and two Peppermint herbals.
“Geor—uh, I mean, Good-Arms Jock used to date a princess, you know?” said Jennifer, settling herself into Simkha’s big chair.
“Huh?” said Simkha. “Like, a real… uh… are you sure you’re not gaslighting me? I thought you said—”
“Princess,” confirmed Leg Day, with a stoic lack of expression. “Princesse Aldore Jaqueline Bathilde Louise Jean-Marie Therese d’Antoign-Rochelle. She’s a bit of… well… she’s good with an épée in the dueling club.”
Good-Arms Jock glared at Leg Day, glared harder at Jennifer, sighed, and turned to Simkha.
“Yes… it’s true!” Good-Arms Jock admitted, raising a melodramatic hand to her forehead. “It was a mistake I made, like, a year ago. It gave Jennifer a whole… thing… for royalty. And I think it might yet awaken Jennifer’s latent sapphic impulses.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes, shot Simkha a commiserating smirk, and shook her head.
“If Arms doesn’t want to be teased about her princess, then she just has to say so,” deadpanned Leg Day.
Simkha just sat in a kitchen chair and nodded. She felt a hush fall over the flat. Good-Arms Jock looked distracted. Leg Day sat more introspectively. Jennifer was texting. Simkha… didn’t feel anxious? She was fairly certain the others felt a bit awkward, but at least this time, she didn’t think that was her fault. Sure, she wasn’t really being a good host. But she felt like she could actually imagine these girls as her friends now. She thought that might be because she’d seen that they were capable of social missteps too.
“I… I really like you guys,” said Simkha. “I’m sorry I kind of went crazy on you for a little bit there. But you were so kind, and so lovely.”
“Good,” said Good-Arms Jock. She smiled, adopting a certain presence and warmth. “I’m glad we weren’t too much for you. I remember when, um, I decided that Leg Day needed to be friends with me and Jennifer. I think I was kind of a lot. I basically integrated her into our social circle by force. I think she struggled to deal with me, a bit. If things get to be too much, just let me know and I’ll back off, yeah?”
Simkha blinked rapidly.
“Is… is that really what’s happening? I’m, like, really bad at making friends. Even with everything you said. I was kind of anxious about whether you’d even remember me in the morning, much less still want me as a friend”
“You want Arms to remember you in the morning?” said Leg Day, bouncing her eyebrows. “You should be so lucky.” Good-Arms Jock swatted at her.
Simkha piled her hands on top of her reddening face.
“Oh my G*d, I didn’t mean like that. I-I-I’m of too much of a mess to even think about... kissing girls right now.”
“Told you guys,” said Good-Arms Jock. Jennifer rolled her eyes.
“Oh my god, you two are fucking incorrigible. Simkha, if you want to know the real behind-the-scenes of what’s happening, Georgia is trying to recruit you to be my friend so I can have somebody to talk me down from murdering them both when they get like this.”
“Uh, who is, uh, is Georgia?”
“There is no Georgia here,” insisted Good-Arms Jock. “She meant to say ‘Good-Arms Jock.’”
“I am done with calling you that,” said Jennifer. “It’s way too wordy.”
“Jennifer!” gasped Good-Arms Jock. “You are insulting Simkha! She invented my name! How could you?”
“Do you see what I must deal with?” demanded Jennifer.
“You love me.”
“You must be thinking of someone else.”
Simkha smiled. She really did like this. It was nice. It was too nice to last.
“I… I need to tell you one more thing. A thing you have to know, and you might see why it’s not worth being my friend.”
“You’re not a princess, you’re a queen?” said Jennifer.
“Oh my god Jennifer, be respectful” demanded Good-Arms Jock.
Simkha felt something happen in her chest, and heard her voice grow raspy. She wanted to look up at the jocks, to see how they reacted. But her neck refused to let her. She stared into her tea instead.
“I-I-I… I wasn’t… I wasn’t actually lying earlier. When I had my breakdown and told you all I’m crazy. I am. Crazy, I mean.” Simkha felt the others’ gazes settle on her. ”I have what’s called an ‘unspecified psychosis.’ A bunch of doctors diagnosed me when I was, like, ten. For a while, they thought I was schizophrenic, but they decided I didn’t show enough of the diagnostic signs. And I’ve listened to a bunch of schizophrenic people since then. Whatever I have going on, it’s different to that.”
Simkha took a moment to recompose herself.
“Can I ask an embarrassing question,” said Leg Day. “What does ‘psychosis’ mean? I am pretty sure I was supposed to study that. But I guess I didn’t pay attention.”
“Yeah, of course,” said Simkha. “I, um. Basically, I sometimes can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. Or what happened and what didn’t.”
“Oh,” said Good-Arms Jock softly. “ Ohhh. So. Earlier. When we thought you told us… that you wanted to go into the caff…”
“Yeah,” said Simkha “I thought it was happening again. Like, surprise bitch! You’re crazy again.”
“God.”
“When I was a girl—for a few years before they diagnosed me—I had this friend. She was my best friend. We understood each other like nobody else. But everybody around me thought I was just, oh, this cute little kid with an imaginary friend. She wasn’t real. A whole person was just my delusion. How she looked, sounded, felt, and even smelled. Eventually they figured it out, and they started treating my psychosis. I felt like they… took her away. I went a little feral. Maybe I didn’t see the point in having friends if they weren’t like her. I’m still trying to make up for lost socialization. To figure out friends again.”
“Goddd.”
“Yeah. And then earlier today, I failed my exam because I couldn’t get into the examination room. I walked up to it, then just stood like two meters from the door, like an idiot. And I couldn’t go in because, because… I like… it was like I stopped having legs. I saw there were these things between me and my feet. But I had no idea what they were. I had no way to tell them what to do. I only remembered how to move right before the exam finished. Then I ran away. So maybe my crazy is coming back? I don’t even know if that is how my delusions work, but I don’t know how else to explain what happened.”
“So it’s not something that happens to you all the time?” asked Jennifer.
“No. That’s part of what makes my diagnosis weird and undefined. It’s almost like I got most of my delusions out of the way as a kid. But every now and then a little delusion will pop up and say ‘boo! Don’t forget about me! You’re still crazy. I can still ruin you!”
“Oof,” said Jennifer. “I don’t know if this helps, but your exam experience doesn’t have to be a delusion. Like, that sounds like it could be executive dysfunction, or a psychosomatic reaction.
“What?” said Simkha.
“What?” said Leg Day.
“Those are some, like, similar presentations we learned about in class,” said Good-Arms Jock.
Simkha sighed. An introspective, gentle quiet settled over the group. Sound muffled by the flat’s walls, a train clanked along the track. Simkha finished her tea.
“Simothy,” said Good-Arms Jock. She smiled. “I still think we should be friends. But I’m not sure how to be supportive right now. Can I give you a hug?”
“I’m pretty gross. I’m like, fully sticky with sweat.”
“I’m wearing my football kit. Sweat is fine.”
Simkha gulped, then nodded. Good-Arms Jock stood and came over. She leaned over to wrap still-seated Simkha in her still-very-good arms. Simkha closed her eyes and leaned in. She heard two more people stand up and walk over. Two more sets of warm arms wrapped her, and she melted into the feeling. After a while, they let her go.
“I think what I need,” said Simkha, “is some time to sit and be alone and process everything. I need to convince myself that any of this is real, and you’re not more imaginary friends. And I need you all to actually ask yourselves if I’m worth dealing with. If it’s worth being friends with me.”
“Not changing our minds,” interjected Leg Day.
“Still,” said Simkha. “I need you to actually think about it. I just need it. And then I think I should get some sleep. I’m really tired.”
“Okay,” said Good-Arms Jock. “But if we all agree with Legs over there and still want to be friends, will you promise to try to accept our choice?”
“I… I’ll try. It will take some time. You guys just seem so… out of nowhere.”
“Oh,” said Good-Arms Jock. “Well, I can explain that. Like, I actually had like, a whole plan to befriend you. Your fall was… kinda…. good luck? For me? But I don’t really want to explain the ‘why’ behind my plan. I promise it’s nothing bad. Just embarrassing. For me. Can I tell you some other time?”
“What,” said Simkha.
“What?” demanded Good-Arms Jock.
Told you mouthed Jennifer.
“No, Simkha’s right,” said Leg Day. “Arms is a fucking weirdo.”
“Shut up, you love me.”
“We’ll see.”
Simkha realized she was tearing up again, but she was smiling too.
“Well, have a good night. If you still want to hang out in the morning, maybe we can meet at the café?”
“Definitely,” said Jennifer. “We’re probably going out dancing tonight, so we’ll need hangover food. Let’s say we meet there around 11 tomorrow?”
Simkha nodded her head yes. “I’ll be there.”