Becky rang the doorbell. She waited a minute before knocking on the door.
‘Okay, okay, I’m coming!’
When Stacy opened the door, Becky noticed her dishevelled hair, tracksuit pants, wrinkled shirt and missing earring. She looked down and found the earring in Stacy’s hand.
Gesturing to the snowy white sofa in the living room, Stacy asked, ‘I’m sorry, can you wait a little? I’m almost ready.’ Becky nodded and sat down.
She looked around the living room and saw photos of Stacy and two adults, presumably her parents, on the walls. There were no siblings in the photos. The wallpaper was as white and patternless as the sofa and the ceiling was the colour of smoke. The glass coffee table held up several heavy books, half of them about orthodontics and the other half about sports science. In front of the table stood a curved TV that stretched to both ends of the wall. The house was so clean that Becky couldn’t smell a thing.
When Stacy came out in a low-cut strapless dress and a pair of pumps with heels as high as a giraffe’s neck, Becky grinned.
‘That’s a change from before,’ she said with a chuckle.
Stacy looked down at her outfit. ‘Does it look bad?’
‘No, you’re pretty as always. It’s just, well, we’re just going shopping. You don’t need to wear something that formal.’
Stacy shifted her gaze to Becky’s jeans and t-shirt. She tensed up and started to walk back to her room, but Becky grabbed her arm.
‘It’s okay. Let’s not waste time that could be spent hanging out. How does that sound?’
Stacy nodded. She took Becky to her white beetle and drove the two of them to the nearest mall. She automatically entered her favourite clothing store and took out a blue dress, holding it up against Becky.
‘This would look cute,’ she said.
Becky looked at the tag and pursed her lips. ‘This is pretty expensive for a dress.’ She showed Stacy the tag.
‘Really? That’s pretty cheap for this store.’
Becky frowned. ‘You do realise I’m just an honour student, right? I can’t afford stuff like this.’
Stacy’s cheeks looked like someone had lit a candle underneath them. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t know.’
Becky put her smile back on. ‘I’m surprised I can see you blushing underneath that tan.’ Stacy covered her face but Becky took one of her hands off it. ‘It’s cute.’
Stacy tore her hand away from Becky and put it back on her face. ‘Do you always say everything you’re thinking?’
Becky stroked her chin. ‘Have I changed? I distinctly remember holding secrets at my old school. How strange.’
Stacy brought her hands down and raised an eyebrow. ‘You kept secrets?’ she asked, trying to ignore the loud rumbling from her stomach.
Becky nodded, her fingers still on her chin. ‘I also distinctly remember being quite the intellectual snob.’ Before Stacy could ask what had changed (not that she would dare), Becky told her a little story. She spoke as they walked towards the food court.
There was a crowd of people gathered around a phone by the lockers, all laughing and making comments about a video. No one seemed to notice Becky White glaring at them from across the hallway.
The girl was sitting on the ground with her back against her bottom locker, reading a thick book about the history of video games. Well, she would be reading if the sound of chatter and the stench of men’s body spray wasn’t a distraction. One girl’s laughter sounded like she was squeezing her last remaining brain cells through her nose. One boy’s speaking voice made him sound like he was doing a mocking impression of a stupid person, which would be hilarious had that been not his natural voice. When he turned his head towards Becky, she pushed her frown up until she wore her ‘role model smile’, a technique she had perfected over multiple nights of practising in the mirror.
Becky guessed the group must be watching a video on a celebrity scandal or something stupid like that, so when she heard someone talk about a climate change-disbelieving politician between giggles, she dropped her book onto her lap and clenched her fists. She was never wrong. She must have misheard the girl.
The bell rang and Becky headed to art class, lathering on a new coat of ‘role model smile’. In class, her teacher handed her a sheet of paper, on which Becky maintained a crab’s grip despite her hands shaking. She felt a dull shiver run down her arms, leaving her feeling cold. Soon the cold melted away to blazing anger, which exploded through her body.
She stood up and slammed her hands against the table. ‘Excuse me, there’s something wrong with my grade for this assignment.’
The teacher headed to her desk and looked at the piece of paper. ‘What seems to be the problem? The grading is correct.’
‘You know me, Mr Oh. You know I deserve a better grade than this.’
Mr Oh lowered his voice to a gentle half-whisper. ‘Your form needs work and your piece lacked originality. I’m sorry but this is the mark you earned for this assignment. May I suggest listening in class rather than reading books?’
If someone saw the way Becky looked at Mr Oh, one could be forgiven for assuming the teacher had told her he was about to drown a box of orphaned puppies.
‘Excuse me? Are you actually a teacher, because what teacher discourages reading? I’m not going to dumb myself down just to do well in ‘art’ class!’ She scrunched her face upon uttering the word ‘art’. ‘Reading is a sign of intelligence, and you know what? I read a whole lot! I don’t just need a passing mark, I deserve it!’ As her shouting turned into screeching, the other students stared at her.
‘We can talk about this some other time in a quieter setting,’ Mr Oh suggested with a soothing voice that would have worked if he was speaking to anyone else but Becky. The girl’s fist came crashing down into her desk, making no indentations but creating a loud, deep noise.
‘How can I be valedictorian if I don’t pass every class? How can I get a job in the future if my potential employees find out I failed an assignment? Do you want to be the one held responsible for me wasting my potential? You know what? Your class is stupid anyway. The great philosophers could come up with things in their mind- they didn’t need to draw or paint it!’
‘Rebecca, please-’
‘You’re being a terrible person, Mr Oh.’ Becky grabbed her teacher by his arms. ‘How does that feel? You just ruined a promising young intellectual’s life!’ She started shaking the man.
Mr Oh pushed her arms away, ran out of the classroom and came back with the principal and a security guard. All three men had to drag Becky out of the room kicking and screaming.
The last words her classmates heard from her were, ‘I deserve better than this shitty school!’
Stacy gasped, placing her salad tray onto the table. ‘Did you get expelled?’
Becky shook her head. ‘No, but I did get a suspension. I didn’t end up going back, though. I could tell what my classmates were going to say, so I moved to your school. Turned over a new leaf, realised the video games I loved counted as art and made some friends. Well, one friend. You, uh, you know Noah?’ Stacy looked up at the ceiling in thought, absentmindedly crushing the lettuce with her fork. She shook her head. Becky chuckled. ‘Seriously? He’s in our homeroom class! Well, anyway, I was friends with him until he asked me out.’
‘Did you go out with him?’
With a sip of her coffee, Becky scowled at the memory. ‘No way. I was not interested. I mean, I was starting to think I might be gay at that point, but even if I was straight, I would have still seen him as a friend. He... didn’t take it well. Called me a whore for ‘leading him on’ and then avoided me. Whenever he did talk to me, he’d oh so subtlely bring up the concept of the friendzone as if to guilt trip me or some nonsense like that. Little did he know that I felt sex-zoned. I trusted him and thought he honestly wanted to be my friend but all he wanted was to get into my pants.’
As Stacy ate her salad in silence, she looked around the food court for a potential topic of conversation. How was she supposed to respond to that?
Becky did her signature lean forward. ‘So, why the bitchy friends?’
Stacy leaned in as well, though less in amusement and more in defiance. ‘They’re not bitchy!’ she exclaimed, pointing her lettuce-covered fork at her.
With a chuckle, Becky said, ‘Sorry. It’s just… wouldn’t it be hilarious if you stood up to them? I’d love to see you try like you did just now to me.’
Stacy let go of the fork and rubbed her own arm. ‘When I tried that it wasn’t hilarious.’ She bit her lip as if her teeth were guarding a creature threatening to escape from her mouth. Becky noticed this and leaned in closer, causing Stacy’s face to feel like it was tanning under the Summer sun.
‘There’s a story there, isn’t there?’
‘You know, if I knew you were going to act like this I wouldn’t have asked you out.’ When Becky continued to stare at her expectantly, Stacy exhaled her last remnants of stubbornness and told her tale of middle school woes.
Stacy Wells wasn’t the one getting pushed to the ground, but she could somehow feel the cold tile floor of the bathroom. It was a girl with short black and purple hair who was on the ground, covering her scarred wrists. One of Stacy’s friends, the one with the nasal voice, was holding a leather jacket up.
‘I knew it!’ she exclaimed. 'I told you guys she probably cuts herself. What did I say?’
‘Can we see?’ another girl asked with a smirk.
‘Leave me alone,’ the black-haired girl whispered just loud enough for the other girls to hear.
A third girl snickered, looking down at the victim’s wrists. ‘You’re clearly not leaving yourself alone, so why do we have to leave you alone?’
‘Yeah, it’s not our fault you decided to do that shit to yourself,’ the nasal girl added. She then put on a deep voice. ‘Emo’s not a phase, dad! You don’t understand! I just want attention!’
Every girl in the bathroom howled with laughter except for two. One was, of course, the victim. The other was Stacy, who stood in the corner with her face parallel to the ground.
Like a line of dominoes being pushed, several girls repeated the same insult. ‘Attention whore.’
Stacy took a deep breath and reached for the nasal girl’s arm, the arm holding the jacket. ‘Maybe you should give that back to her.’
The nasal girl whipped her body around to face Stacy, making a swooshing sound with the jacket in the air. She glared at Stacy with the furore of a painter seeing someone spill soft drink all over their masterpiece.
‘Butt out of it, Stacy. Isn’t this exactly what an attention whore wants? For everyone to see her? Or are you so dumb you think she doesn’t want the attention?’
‘I’m not dumb,’ Stacy murmured.
‘Are you sure about that? Because everyone knows you’re a dumb slut who thinks she’s hot shit just because she grew boobs before everyone else.’
Stacy covered her chest. ‘Who said that?’
The nasal girl put her hand over her mouth. ‘N-no one.’ She glanced sideways to the girl who originally made that comment.
The victim girl stood up, tore her jacket from the nasal girl’s hand and stormed out of the bathroom with tears smudging her eyeliner. She didn’t find time to give Stacy a thankful smile.
Of course, the nasal girl wasn’t done with Stacy. ‘The fuck was that? What’s your problem, Stacy? You’re supposed to be my friend and you take her side?’
Stacy bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry. I just thought…’
‘You thought what?’
The five girls who were allegedly Stacy’s friends crowded around Stacy with hands on their hips and looks that could make a titan weep. By then she had realised that she was back in that corner she hid in earlier.
She shut her mouth. She kept that mouth shut long after that day, even when the girl with the black and purple hair was targeted again. Every time she saw that girl, she felt tempted to apologise and give her a big hug, asking if she was okay. But then she’d feel the words ‘dumb slut’ pick at her mind’s wounds.
It took her over two years to feel comfortable wearing anything that showed the slightest hint of cleavage.
Becky was no longer leaning forward, instead reaching into her handbag for tissues. She handed them to Stacy, who pushed them away despite knowing how wet her cheeks were.
‘I’m sorry,’ Stacy said, waving one hand about while using the other to rub her eyes. ‘This is probably a really weird first date. Talking about stuff like this. We can end it here if you want.’
Becky took the hand waving in the air and laid it on top of the table. ‘It’s okay,’ she said in a soothing voice. ‘Dates are about getting to know each other, right? I haven’t exactly had much experience with them, to be perfectly honest. But I guess it’s a special kind of date just for our kind of relationship. I’m weird, you’re weird, so our date would be… am I making sense?’
Stacy nodded and smiled, slowing her breaths down. ‘Thanks. Well, at least you know I’m a pushover now. Looks like you’re about to dodge a bullet.’
With those words, Becky cupped Stacy’s cheek with her hand. ‘Don’t say that about yourself. You did what you could. So why are you still friends with those girls?’
It took Stacy a few seconds to think up an answer. ‘Who else am I supposed to be friends with?’
Becky stood up and offered her hand. ‘Let’s shop some more. Take your mind off things. I can’t have my date crying, can I?’
Stacy couldn’t help but giggle a little as she took Becky’s hand. They continued holding hands even as they walked throughout the mall. They stopped at a STEM retailer and went into the star room, which was just a black room with lights projected onto the ceiling. They laughed as they tried to make the smallest shadow puppets in history, though alas, the stars were too small even for their shadow puppets.
After they finished shopping and headed back to Stacy’s house, they said goodbye with a peck on the cheek, which both parties were satisfied with. Becky waved to the other girl before getting into her own car and driving off, a big grin on her face.
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