The hall was now a mess of warm bodies and loud voices. Doing her best to simmer her boiling irritation, Shirley took fluid, even breaths through her nose and exhaled slowly; it wouldn’t do to have the entire school thinking she was out of sorts. Before too long, she’d have people bothering her in class to talk about what’s wrong. Taps at the glass of Madame Dufresne’s door from boyfriends, motioning for her to join out in the hall and of course, an intrusion of texts to her phone. If the displayed scene in the cafeteria had been gorged on by their peers, there would surely be some sort of backlash. Especially, if she continued to wear such a dismal expression.
The student body, though conceited and narrow-minded, had a soft spot for Shirley Dahl. For almost four years, she’d invested herself in becoming a known force within the school; the girl who singularly funded the football team’s new equipment, the girl who saved the art wing by raising enough for fresh supplies and materials, the girl who talked Christopher Draper into continuing his place as the team’s quarterback. Several times, she’d bent over backwards for the betterment of their education, or their overall experience and her efforts clearly showed.
“I’m okay,” she distractedly reassured Jane as they pushed past a grungy group of stagnant stoners who were ogling a treasure one of their friends was flashing about; curious, she stared on longer than was necessary and at the right moment, looked back to spot a small bag of mushed edibles in the hand of Kasey Fairchild. Smiling at this, she momentarily caught his eye and offered a sweet, knowing smile before redirecting her attention to Jane; from behind, he heard him loudly laugh out and call her name annoyingly.
“Ashiana,” she seethed, “just has some sort of juvenile desire to try and get a rise out of me,” Shirley told her hurriedly, exhausting the sentence in one breath. “And despite how I have enough self-control not to message her back, I still can’t shake the feeling that I want to because she irks me so. It’s just silly,” she paused to swallow, “how she thinks she has so much control over me. Like she can just guess how I’ll behave in response to her actions.” Aware that Jane didn’t know what she was talking about, Shirley shut herself up, biting at her tongue to keep from spilling anymore foolishness.
After hearing what lesson Jane needed to attend, Shirley nodded slightly and cleared her throat. “He does look like a hobbit,” she sweetly added, hoping it would qualm the brunette’s hurried explanations. “When I took his class, I thought the same thing.” Glancing over, eyes connecting with those of dark hazel, Shirley offered Jane a warm, caring look, her eyes projecting the smile her mouth refused to form. “Word of advice, make sure you’re writing down his notes,” she told her and laughed easily, thinking back to two years prior when she too had taken the same course. “He says to study the textbook, but that’s a lie. Mostly, the quizzes and tests consist of information he’s supplied through handouts and, what’s written on the whiteboard.” Shrugging slightly as they continued towards the end of the hall where the room was located, Shirley added, “Not really the most methodical way to teach, but if you know his secret, you’ll have no trouble coming out on top.”
Coming to a stop at their destination, Shirley shifted her bag once again and found herself biting at the corner of her mouth; a habit she typically practiced when feeling shy, or stressed, angry even. And as she stood there, oceanic gaze falling to the ground as she embarrassingly shifted in place, Shirley was reminded of her damned attraction to those of the same gender.
Gathering together her blistered sense of bravado and courage, the blonde then looked to meet Jane’s eyes and found herself blushing lightly under the heaviness of that tender look. From the gentle contours of her soft face, to the flush of her full lips and the deep color of her eyes, the elder girl could have swooned, but instead felt a girlish giggle burst forth as she brought her hand up, distractedly tucking strands of gold behind the curve of her ear. How could any one thing appear so indisputably sweet? It wasn’t fair.
In accordance to her sudden and acute desire, the blonde kept eye contact for a moment longer before daring to reach out, placing the tips of her fingers just barely against Jane’s jawline which felt soft and warm against her cool pads. Never, had she been sodden with such sugary attention and it felt so lush, nearly akin to ecstasy. The rouge cheeks and that adorable stutter, those wide eyes and her obvious wonderment and interest in every move the blonde had made, every word that had fallen from her lips. Jane was far different than her other friends, kinder, more accepting, and appreciative; was it so wrong to want to take that innocence for herself? To hold onto it, steal it, savor it until she couldn’t squeeze out more? And if Jane would willingly take what she was eager to give, wouldn’t it due to benefit both of them? Obvious to her, there was a sense of connection; a magnetic force. Surely, Jane felt it too.
“I just—I wanted to thank you I suppose,” she lightly said, maintaining eye contact, and stepping in a bit nearer to Jane’s proximity, her body growing warm as she drew close; to anybody watching, they’d have been able to anticipate what was coming next without the visual confirmation. “For being so sweet and attentive. My friends, well, sweet isn’t an adjective to describe them and well, I suppose I’ve been a bit starved for somebody to shower me with kindnesses.” Leaning forward, the blonde exhaled gently before pressing her lips briefly to the corner of Jane’s mouth. Not daring to keep the contact for too long, Shirley lingered for a second’s lapse before pulling completely back, her arms winding around her own slender waist as she took a retracting step to gaze shyly upon the younger girl.
“Tomorrow,” she started slowly, bashfully smiling as her eyes drifted sideways, fixed now upon the dented lockers rather than the pretty, young thing before her, “I want you to meet me at the gates before class. I don’t really have the time to catch your phone number now ‘cause I’ve got to get to class, but,” she turned, starting to walk away now before she earned herself a quip from her French teacher, “I’ll make sure to get it when I see you tomorrow, right? Wouldn’t want to lose track of you because you’re too important for that.” Chancing another glance, the elder girl worried her lower lip between her teeth as she awaited the response.
Letting a loud whoop of excitement tear from her throat, Rose brought her hands up in mock defense and rolled her eyes. “Two years old, buddy? I believe you’re gonna be thinking a little different when you’re sucking piss water up your nose and bruising your forehead off the ceramics.” Slapping her hands together, Rose threw a bright, toothy grin at her close friend and took a step backwards, her mouth twisted to fashion a coy grin. “And then, I’ll take a picture, send it to Shirley tagged, thinking of you,”the blue-haired teen finalized, her eyes flashing cockily as she looked upon Ash who obviously, wasn’t taking her warning under consideration. The brunette thought of everything as a joke, and though she had intended the swirly to be a simple tease, inspiration to embarrass her counterpart seeded itself deep within her. Payback for the teasing and the jabs, the goofing offs and the “one upping it”. Ashiana had and always would be a complete ass. Eventually, if not within the upcoming few days, Rose intended to take the other girl by surprise and force her to choke on the bacteria infested bowls in the girl’s locker room. Maybe then, the next time they wrestled or prodded, Ash would think a little more on just who it was she was messing with. “She’d love me for it,” Rose added, her mouth quirking to fashion a crooked grin. “She’d tell me I’m her damn savior.”
Up the winding stairs they went, Rose laughing as she revisited her impersonation of Shirley and Ash’s reaction to the display. “She’s too easy,” she called, her voice echoing through the tight area, constructed only of cement and metal. “She gets so uppity over the most simplistic of things. Just the other day, we were late to the damn movies because Shirls needed to finish dinner dishes before we left; as if it couldn’t have waited, right?” Rose relayed, her voice harboring a hitch of annoyance despite the fact she found those details of the blonde’s personality to be almost endearing and also, completely adorable. “It’s like she can’t even take a damn break without having an anxiety attack that the break is lasting too long,” she finished, a bit more softly as her thoughts fondly drifted to ones of her dramatic friend.
Sighing out as they exited onto the rooftop, Rose closed her eyes and lightly breathed, taking little bouts of clean oxygen into her lungs with each, small pull. Usually, the darkness of the halls and her dull studies forced Rose to feel contained, like a lab rat. Coming out after lunch for a little medical help had become a ritual she didn’t merely desire, but needed in order to get through the rest of the long day. And of course, she only had Ashiana to thank for it. Without her friend, she probably wouldn’t have started smoking in the first place. It was a frightening thought, but one that she had come to terms with a while ago. Before meeting her two friends, she’d been vaguely nerdy, still was really, and if Ashiana, the queen of drugs and other illegal activities hadn’t introduced her to the many wonders of living a sober-free life, she wouldn’t have been brave enough to have chanced it.
Reaching out, Rose took the pack for herself and looked inside, momentarily weighing out which appeared to be the best, before picking out a singular stick for herself. Placing it between thin lips, the teen struck it with the flame of her miniature lighter and took a step back to look at Ash who appeared to be boasting over something, her voice low and cocky, her eyes teasing and lips quirked. “If you tell me you fucking really finished that piece of shit,” she seethed before sucking in a lungful of smoke.“You’re going to fucking get thrown off this rooftop.”
Screeching dramatically out when Ash had confirmed that it was indeed their assigned essay, Rose fisted her hands and stomped, her lower lip jutting forth in a pout, her jaw clenched and cheeks red. Of course, she had to go out of her way to come out on top; it wasn’t even as if the brunette liked school, or work. She simply wanted to prove that if given the opportunity, she’d always come out on top. “You’re such a fag,” she huffed and averted her gaze.
From her back pocket, the girl felt her phone buzz and eagerly, she reached back to unveil her message, glad for a distraction from Ashiana’s assedness. Oh yes, she’d be getting her back in due time for it. Come their next sleepover, there would be hell to pay. “I’m not spending time hurrying to get a piece of shit essay done by the end of today. I’ll just have to pass in an intelligent one tomorrow endure the toll of having points taken off-,” Rose’s words fell short as her screen brightened, showing off a photograph that could only be described as problematic. Sucking in a deep breath that forced her lungs to grow tight, the blue-haired girl stared on, her heart racing and throat growing swollen and sore as she nursed at her joint, momentarily forgetting that she was smoking anything at all; her brain was too busy trying to quickly work out ways in which to fix this mess. Oh, it wasn’t good.
The photograph itself was a bit blurry, but she could make it out just fine. Shirley’s long locks of gold, spilled over her shoulders and shielding her face obscured the action itself, but did nothing to hide the facts behind it. Their bodies were indeed rather close and the caption underneath read, ‘Did Shirley get a girlfriend?’ It was a message sent from one of their more intimate of friends, an excitable, homosexual boy that went by the name of Trevon and whom had been with them on the council for nearly a year now. They’d hung out a few times, but never more than a handful; he was always hungry and excited for gossip though, making their current situation a treasure to him. Gaze skirting down as her iPhone buzzed again, Rose scoffed at a new text that said, ‘Looks like somebody is eager to get their cherry popped, huh?’
With her heart thudding, quick against the swell of her breast, Rose stuffed the phone back into her pocket and turned to Ashiana expressionless. It wasn’t her intention to seem off, or surprised, or scared even, but how was she supposed to act? With the photograph and the fact that Shirley had gone and acted so foolishly in public meant that this bit of gossip would spread just as quick and fierce as wildfire around the school. Thinking back to her phone, Rose knew that surely, there would be more inquiries in regards to Shirley and her new puppy. And of course, Ash would get them too. Was it better—better for the brunette to hear now than from somebody else? Surely, the reaction wouldn’t be good, but Rose thought it better to have Ashiana lose her cool here than on some innocent kid relaying the information, or asking a question about it.
Taking a full, large drag from the joint, Rose let seconds’ tick by, her eyes stinging and lungs twitching from irritation as she forced the smoke to still and settle. After close to a minute had lapsed, Rose breathed fluidly out, her eyes closed briefly before she opened them and offered Ash a weak smile. Extracting her phone once again, she walked over to the other girl before offering it to her. “Just don’t freak, okay?” she softly asked and snagged at her lower lip to worry at.
Jane had spent so much time in her life in hospitals, she was a close acquaintance of boredom, and therefore she had read many things in her life. Tabloids to contemporary theater plays, medical articles to fanfictions, best-sellers to Russian poetry. She wouldn't think it was making her smarter than anyone else, it was just yet another proof of her loneliness and utter uselessness. Anything her mother would bring would do. Anything wasn't interesting, and yet, she would read it, to avoid the deep sensation of emptiness when she had only staring at the wall left to do. Since her family was broke, her mother couldn't afford books everytime her daughter went to the hospitals, and that was often. That would also be a reason for the diversity of her readings.
At this very moment, Jane could only remember one single article she had read, a long time ago, in a stupid paranormal magazine her mother had taken from one of their neighbour's kid, weirdly obsessed with ghosts and all kind of supernatural happenings. This particular article was about self-combustion. People, without any logical reason, would just burn. Not slowly, not as if they were at the stake, but like some kind of internal explosion, leaving a scorched corpse and many questions for the scientists. It was a rare occurrence and the fire would take away all evidence that could have answered a few interrogations.
Well self-combustion was what seemed to happen to her as soft lips touched – nearly ? No, no they touched – hers. The burning in her chest and heart, not the usual kind, not the panicking flooding sensation when she was at her sickest, a whole new kind of burning, one she wasn't expecting to relish so much, the kind that set up her kidneys and hands and her eyeballs on fire too, that burning was raiding everything and she could only hear it roar in her ears, and she felt like she was disappearing from the world, and that was what it felt to be kissed by a goddess.
Her savior, her guardian angel, as she stepped away, seemed to only fuel the flames and Jane wondered if she could still be seen by the world, if she wasn't just a pile of ash and unburnt bones. She wished the object of her new religion would touch her and prove her that she was still flesh and blood.
And above, the crackling of the flames, the heavenly voice honored her ears again. And the miracle was already far away when she could make sense of the beautiful words, like the evangelists had understood the Messiah after He was gone, so did Jane. In the terrible loneliness of her existence and the overly sweet promise of a better future to come, she finally understood the words, spoken with such casuality, as if Shirley deemed normal for them to be friendly, as if gods and humans were meant to mingle.
Someone touched her elbows, and Jane was reminded of her own existence, wide-eyed to the world. She flinched away from the contact, freezing against her burning skin, she felt feverish, and stared at the stranger. She was resenting them for breaking her vision of Paradise, like an after taste of the after death. And she didn't know who was that boy in front of her, she couldn't remember that human beings were supposed to exist, she was suddenly too much aware of the angel walking amongst them and she was blinded by the divine clarity of a better-somewhere-else.
« Are you dating Shirley Dahl ? » The boy spoke, bewildered, keeping his hands for himself this time.
Jane touched the corner of her lips and it ached and she retracted her fingers from her three-degree burn and she kept staring at him, white spots on her vision, as if she had stared at the sun for too long and couldn't quite make out her surroundings. Nevertheless, she could hear him, the sound of flames had disappeared and she hadn't self-combusted. She didn't know what to do with the new piece of information. She glanced at the boy's hand and back to his face and touched her lips again, and it ached still, but deliciously.
The reality of the situation suddenly rushed down on her and a very familiar kind of burn flooded her face, she was red from... Embarrassment ? Joy ? Pleasure ? She couldn't pinpoint what exactly, but her cheeks were aching from smiling so widely so suddenly and the violent blush blooming in her face, and it felt like she would never reach normal temparature ever again. She ahd a first kiss with an heavenly creation and the whole world seemed to have witnessed it.
She turned around suddenly, nearly knocking herself out against a wall and ran to the class, taking her seat at the far right corner of the class, where nowhere could look at her without being noticed by the teacher, the teacher himself couldn't quite make out what she would be doing, which was pinching herself and wheezing. Her weak lungs seemed to actually start burning and she urged herself to calm down. If she was sick today, she wouldn't be able to make it to her appointment with Shirley and even on the edge of death she wouldn't miss it.
She looked down on the white tiles of the biology tables, faintly noticing her reflexion and tried to make out if she had changed. If being in contact with such a creature would marked her definitely, make a new person out of her. An urge of coughing proved her wrong.
Maybe her goddess liked to work slowly.
Ashiana was tempted to take out the essay once again and maybe fan herself with it, just to antagonize her friend. Rose was so easy to anger, sometimes. Big fucking deals like Shirley taking a liking to some kind of second-hand trash seemed fine to her but God forbad Ash to not fail completely something to make her spit acid and threaten her life. She was nonetheless curious if her friend would really try to balance her over the railing. It would obviously finished in blows and cuts to the lips, and maybe, some violence would do good to her, let some steam off. There was nothing like the urging pain of bruised knuckles, sometimes.
As Rose took her phone, Ash reached for hers too, vainly hoping for some kind of reply. The light hope, not hope barely an interest, that she might not have read it yet vanished as she saw the read. That single word, automatic and neutral, seemed so hateful for a split of a second she felt like throwing it out of the railing. This was not right. This was not Shirley and Ashiana. Shirley and Ashiana were yelling and hurtful comments, and harsh teasing texts and unmasked sneers at each other's behavior. They were not silence and and unaknowledgement. That was good for Rose, that was good for the rest of the school, who still believed in the phony-perfect Shirley, never a word louder than the other. But fuck, Ashiana knew better, and Shirley knew that. Her silence was meant to hurt, Ash couldn't sugar-coat it, there was no 'no time to reply', this was thought and decided and the hatred was overwhelming for a second.
She urged herself to focus on the joint, more a need than a pleasurable hobbie now. She snagged the bottle from where she had thrown it and took a long gulp of it. The familiar tightening of her throat was good, was decent, was expected. That was her. Whiskey and weed.
It wasn't the first time Shirley took a liking to a stray. Rose and her had seen their fair share of charity cases, ones more pitiful than the others and they had fought already about it. One would think they'd get used to it, that Ashiana wouldn't make a big deal out of it everytime. Her brain kept reminding her, though, that she had been Shirley's charity case at some point, and that tables could turn quicker than expected. She snorted, pissed, and pushed the nauseating tug of her stomach away with a new drag of the joint, wishing for something maybe stronger. She coupled it with a sip of whiskey.
She glanced at her silent friend and grinned. A petty fight wasn't out of order yet. As she was about to comment on how she had never seen her shut up for so long, Rose finally seemed to go back to reality by handing out her phone. Ashiana squinted her eyes, suspicious
« Do you really have a picture of your dump in there ? » She spat, disgusted. But the tone was too serious, it was something else, it was too careful, too honest. This was something she wasn't going to like, not some dumb joke. Rose was a cool girl, she didn't get worried, or never show it and that was worry, that was actual expectation of Ashiana losing her shit.
The brunette placed her joint, preliminarly, between her kips, feeling like she was going to need it. This was necessarily about Shirley. What did the prissy princess could have done in less than ten minutes ? She was usually too sneaky to retaliate so quickly, she liked her revenges long and painful, bringing her to the edge of breaking.
She inhaled some smoke and grabbed the phone. It wasn't an hesitation, the split of second she looked away from the screen before focusing. It wasn't an hesitation, it wasn't a hope that maybe she could avoid to see it. And then it was there. All over her face. Trash staining a too proper outfit, a too tidy white dress. She stared at it. A second more, a second too much to pretend she couldn't care. She couldn't act like she wasn't caring. This was worse than unreplied text, that was more than turning her back on her in the cafeteria. That was a direct blow to her face and she wished Rose had punched her earlier.
Before she could think of it, she was on her feet, seething in rage and hatred. Her grip on the phone was even tighter and she could only drop it on Rose's lap if she couldn't throw it against a wall. She turned around and without a sound violently kicked the railing, over and over again until it showed dents, until it dug under her shoe. Her jaw was hurting from clenching her teeth together tight. Her ears were whistling.
« I'm gonna kill that cunt. » She sneered. Grabbing the now dead join from her lips, she threw it on the ground. She didn't care about her stuff laying around and stomped towards the door. She didn't know which girl she meant. That excuse of a human being or the bitchiest posh privileged girl she had ever met. The first she could get her hand on, probably. And violence was clear. Never did she use it on Shirley, never had she thought she would want to, even at the deepest irritation level. But that wasn't irritation, that was rage. Because that wasn't a charity case, that was a fucking provocation, and Ashiana knew better than letting provocations unanswered. That was street law, one did not let another step on their boundaries. One fought for getting what they thought they deserved.
