Chapter Text
Jeremy sat in the middle of a circle of chairs, Christine miming driving a car beside them. The improv game for today was "Hitchhiker," so Christine and Jeremy were required to make conversation before stopping to pick up another drama student from the imaginary side of the road. Both of them would have to switch to acting like the hitchhiker until the driver made an excuse to leave and the game started over again with their roles switched around.
Christine, for all her love of scripted theater, was a pretty talented improvisor. Jeremy didn't have quite as much stage experience but prided themself on the same.
"I just love the rolling hills of Normandy this time of year," Christine was saying happily with a sigh. Her fake accent was stuffy and posh. "So fine and fair! Don't you agree, Chester?"
Jeremy found themself having to come up with a character voice on the fly and wound up settling for a sort-of-British Keanu Reeves. "It's certainly beautiful, my dear. If only we didn't have to deal with these flocks of seagulls attacking the car."
Christine played along, and the two of them squawked and ducked imaginary bird attacks while their classmates tittered. "Hold on, honey!" Christine said. "The road's getting bumpy! Too many bird bodies!" She and Jeremy both bounced up and down in their seats, making thunking noises.
Mr. Reyes gestured for them to hurry up and pick up their "passenger," so Jeremy shouted "THUD!" and flung out their arm as though Christine weren't wearing a seatbelt. "Sounded like a huge bird!" they said frantically.
Christine picked up on what they were trying to do and gamely said in a horrified tone, "That was no bird, Chester! That..." She paused dramatically. "Was a human!"
Jeremy mimed flinging open the car door. Mr. Reyes pointed at Chloe, who was reading something on her phone screen. "We'd best pick up this poor injured soul," they said, waving for Chloe to get in the invisible car.
Chloe didn't notice or answer until Mr. Reyes whispered a couple instructions to her. She scoffed and pocketed her phone, standing up and coming to the empty chair beside Jeremy. "So I have to make up a character or whatever?"
Christine wilted beside Jeremy at Chloe's lack of immersion but gamely chimed in with her fake accent, "That's right, hon, sorry we just drove over you with our car. Who are you supposed to be?"
Chloe blew some hair out of her face and took a seat, crossing her legs. "I don't know. What's a funny character?" She tapped her chin, thinking. "Guess I'm some loser who can't keep a boyfriend 'cuz she won't put out."
Some of their classmates laughed meanly at Chloe's line and the air in the room got tenser. Jeremy looked between Christine and Chloe, but neither of them said anything. According to the rules of the game, Jeremy and Christine were supposed to adopt Chloe's new persona and have a conversation. Jeremy changed their fake accent to a Valley girl's. "Guess that, like, makes three of us?" Their mind was whirring, trying to determine the ideal outcome to this botched improv exercise.
"Yeah, I guess, I'll just, like," Chloe said, getting more into the role. Her acting was horrible but the other students' reactions encouraged her to keep going, "go cry about what a prude I am while my exes get wasted at cooler people's parties."
"I don't appreciate that, Chloe," Christine said in a wavering normal voice. Oh shit. If Christine was breaking character, this was bad.
Chloe scoffed, openly texting on her phone. Mr. Reyes didn't scold her.
Jeremy turned to Christine, keeping their voice low and consoling. "Don't listen to her," they said. Christine was a sincere and kind soul, but she was emotionally volatile when she didn't know what she was supposed to say. It was part of her charm but the way she wore her heart on her sleeve made her vulnerable to both bullies and theater critics. She needed some direction from someone who sounded confident. "She doesn't actually know what's going on between us, she's just trying to get a rise out of you. Ignore her and finish up the scene." For good measure, Jeremy put a comforting hand on Christine's thigh.
A chorus of "ooooooh!"s sounded around the three of them. Jeremy realized their misstep and yanked their hand away. Right! Christine wasn't comfortable with touch! A hand on her leg should have been fine, but considering that people were gossiping about her lack of physical intimacy with her ex-boyfriends, it was a hot topic of conversation. Jeremy shouldn't have pushed it.
Christine's face was red and blotchy, her nose scrunched up. Some dumbass in the back of the chair circle yelled, "Now kiss!" and that was apparently too much for Christine.
She stood up, shaking her head, and stumbled. "Excuse me," she said almost too quietly to be heard. "I have to… go to the bathroom. 'Scuse me. Pardon."
Chloe was snickering out loud as though all her suspicions about Christine had been confirmed. Jeremy felt some nauseating mixture of guilt in the pit of their stomach, and they weren't sure if it was cased by embarrassing Christine or from realizing their social misstep a second too late.
Jeremy stood, offering a "Me, too," to a distantly amused Mr. Reyes, who made no move to stop them. Christine hurried out the door, and following, Jeremy paused at the threshold. There were so many conflicting variables to consider here and their social-situational-analysis system had frozen trying to figure out which one to prioritize. Should Jeremy be most concerned about their relationship with Christine? Or with their standing with the popular kids? Should they ignore Christine and focus on identifying the origin of their newly-updated SQUIP program? Or should they pick up where the SQUIP left off, correcting Jeremy's personal habits and managing his anxiety? Should they go find Michael and ask him what to do? Should they talk to their dad about what was going on? "Error. Error," they said, staring down the hallway. "Social situational analysis system is not responding. Force program to close?"
If they were waiting for user input, they'd be waiting for a long time, since there was no distinction between SQUIP and human anymore.
They heard talking behind them and realized with relief that the improv class was continuing on its own. No one was staring. No one had heard them talking to themself. The opportunity was gone to offer a scathing remark at Chloe or to say something chill and flippant to look good in front of the class.
With some of the possible tasks they had in mind unavailable, they were able to unfreeze, shaking their head to clear it from the unpleasant sensation. Christine. Highest priority right now was Christine. She'd been heading to the girls' bathroom when they saw her last, so that's the way they headed, though they knew better than to barge in unannounced.
They knocked on the swinging door, calling, "Christine? Christine! It's just me right now, I only wanna talk!"
Christine answered, voice muffled. "It's empty in here. Come on in."
Jeremy hesitated. The girls' bathroom was forbidden territory. Dare they venture where no man had trodden before? They heard Christine sniffle and their decision was made. They pushed open the door and looked to behold… a regular bathroom, minus the urinals. Wow. Underwhelming. "I can't be in here, Christine," they said in a hushed whisper.
"Then hide in a stall with me," Christine said, pointing at the accessible stall. "You're right. We really need to talk."
Jeremy tried to come up with a good reason not to obey but none came to mind. They followed Christine into the stall and locked it behind them. A thrill of anticipation inadvertently shot through their body, and they had a moment of deja vu. Either it was a glitch in the matrix, or they'd definitely fantasized about this exact scenario with Christine before... though they were hard-pressed to remember any fantasy when Christine had been on the verge of tears.
Jeremy quickly psyched themself up for the conversation ahead. Something about this situation felt similar to their fight with Rich earlier, but the vibe was different. Around Rich, they felt disdainful and disgusted with his obvious lack of discipline. With Christine, they felt protective. Like they needed to be as supportive as possible and say things that felt good to hear. All for the same end goal, of course, which was to adjust Rich and Christine's behavioral outputs. Was that a violation of free will? they wondered. Or was it just plain old-fashioned manipulation? They had a sinking feeling that Michael wouldn't approve either way, and for some reason Michael's approval was the cornerstone of their existence. How annoying.
Christine had perched on the closed toilet seat, her arms wrapped around herself as she gnawed on her lip. Jeremy wanted to hug her but wasn't sure they were allowed.
"I'm sorry," they offered, sitting at the opposite edge of the stall and sliding down to the dirty tile floor. The stall was still cramped, offering no illusion of personal space between them. They could practically smell Christine's shampoo.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Christine said immediately. "That was all Chloe."
"No, I should have recognized the situation," they responded glumly. "I wasn't trying to encourage her, but I did anyway. And I shouldn't have touched your leg." Sounding honest was the best policy right now, they decided. It just so happened that, in this case, the best way to sound sincere was to actually be sincere.
"They've all been saying the same thing lately," Christine said. She was talking to Jeremy but it seemed more like she was mumbling to her sneakers. "This is just the first time anyone's said it to my face."
Jeremy shook their head. "I had no idea."
"Well, how could you?" Christine looked up. "I wanted to talk to you about it at lunch, before something like this happened. I figured you heard the rumors and didn't want to be seen with me anymore."
Jeremy leaned over, reaching for her hand. She was feeling self-conscious right now and needed validation. "I'd never think that, Christine."
"It was still a jerk move." Jeremy froze. What was with Christine and her constant refusal to follow the conversational script that most humans would? "I needed you and you weren't there! I know you wanted to take it slow but apparently we broke up?" Christine was talking faster and faster. She'd been holding this in and now it was spilling out. "I heard Jenna tell Brooke that we split up and I told her she had the story wrong, but now I guess she was right after all! Do you know what it feels like for Jenna to know my relationship status before I do? It sucks! I thought this was all a big misunderstanding, I mean, oh Jeremy seemed so sweet and understanding when I talked to him last, but then I text you and you ignore me and I try to sit with you at lunch and you pretend I don't exist and I thought you were done with all this high-and-mighty too-cool-for-you junk!"
Oh. Whoops. They were vaguely aware of Christine having texted them, but on Michael's orders, they were avoiding interaction with other people. They hadn't even read the messages. Only one is mine. Only one is mine. They hunched over on the floor, tucking their hands underneath their arms to look nonthreatening and nervous. "You're right. I'm sorry. I've been going through a lot this week."
Christine sighed. "I could have helped you through it," she said. Jeremy couldn't tell if she was being supportive or critical.
They frowned. "Not this."
Christine sniffed, wiping at her eyes. She wasn't actually crying but she'd been on the verge of tears, and she seemed to be trying to make herself more presentable to go back to class. "Can you just… clear up what we are right now? Are we together like you said we'd be? Did we actually break up? It's fine either way, but being the only one not to know is twisting me in knots."
"I'm sorry, Christine," they said gently. "I still care about you, but I'm not the same person who asked you out in the first place." Understatement of the century.
Christine laughed. It wasn't a happy sound, not quite, but she was trying to bounce back to her normal cheer. "You think I am? I'm a new person every class period. Heck, ten minutes ago I was a rich tourist running over pedestrians in Normandy."
They shared a quiet laugh. "It's more than that," Jeremy said. They were torn-they wanted to keep the possibility of dating Christine open, but they didn't want to actually spend time with her until they figured out what had happened to them and whether it was permanent. For whatever reason, they kept thinking of Michael. He would probably be judging Jeremy for keeping Christine on the hook like this, so they steeled their resolve. "It's not a good idea for us to date right now," they said quietly.
Christine let out a breath. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that."
"You did?!" Jeremy said. Then they hurried to clarify, "It's not because of what they're saying about you not getting physical. I really do have something big happening right now and I don't want to get you involved."
"We don't have to be dating for us to be close," Christine said, tucking her knees up to her chin. Jeremy thought they got a flash of her panties before they realized she was wearing a skort, and they bit their lip and adjusted their own blood flow so nothing would be noticable. "Just tell me what you're thinking."
They really didn't want to do that. "No. I mean! No, you first."
Christine looked disappointed in them but didn't push it. "Well," she said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a creased paper. "I was planning to ask you to go to this with me tonight. It wouldn't be a date, I guess, but I still want you to come." She passed the paper over and Jeremy unfolded it.
"ANTI-BULLYING ART EXPO," they read aloud from the page. "Prevent bullying and harassment in our local schools. FREE refreshments provided."
"Things have gotten really bad at this school lately," she said. "What Chloe just said is only one example. I guess it's a nationwide issue. And that's probably caused by something bigger than the scope of one high school's policies could change," she said with a huff. Jeremy recognized Christine's "I'm-about-to-go-on-a-rant" face easily. Oh, no. Their forecast predicted a hundred percent chance of unrestrained teenage human opinions pouring out like a tidal wave.
"Sure, kids can become bullies based on their own personal issues like low empathy or not having good role models or as a reaction against something bad going on in their life. But I really think the school environment plays just as big a part as the individual, don't you?" She didn't give Jeremy a chance to answer. "What kind of attitudes are we encouraging socially? And what behavior do the teachers let slide? Or maybe more important than that, who gets a free pass to do and say whatever they want and who gets called out on it? Like, which people do we all nod along and agree with? Even outside of school! It seems like there are certain people who get to say, 'this is acceptable' or 'point and laugh at this' and we all just take their word for it implicitly! I think that betrays a lack of critical thinking skills."
Jeremy started to say something regrettable about the SQUIP and how it could fix interpersonal communication problems forever, but Christine kept chattering as though the act was clearing her head. "But people are social animals, I mean, you know that, Jeremy. We've been following the crowd as long as there's been a crowd to follow. So bullying has been a problem forever, probably. It seems like it's so much worse now! Is it just because we're usually nicer to each other in elementary school and this is the only time we've ever been in high school so we have no point of comparison?" She waved her hand in a circle to get out some of the nervous energy she was building up. Jeremy didn't have the processing capacity to truly follow everything she'd been saying, so they mostly concentrated on thinking about anything and everything in the world besides Christine's panties as she continued.
"Adults are saying this is a big problem now too, though! Maybe there's a bias there? Like, bullying was underreported because there weren't many assets for bullying victims until recently? At the same time, there's such a toxic climate just in the last few years around diversity especially, and sexuality and gender identification and race and class and all the other stuff that coincidentally a lot of bullying victims get targeted for! So maybe all the nasty stuff we see in high school bullying is just a reflection of the social issues facing our culture as a whole?
"Anyway," she said, sucking in air and pointing to the flier, "they're holding these at the other high school, like a monthly meeting. I've got a couple friends who go and they've just been raving about it. They've got a program guaranteed to reduce bullying by eighty percent in a matter of weeks with the power of art and I hear they're gonna try it at our school. I thought we could get a sneak peek."
"Christine," Jeremy said, finally able to interject.
She heard the "no" in their tone and deflated, plucking the paper out of their hand. "Oh. Yeah. All right, that's fine. I don't mind going stag." The curtness of her answer made Jeremy flinch.
Jeremy couldn't handle this properly! They'd only had, well, whatever SQUIP-and-human nonsense was going on with them right now for less than two days. "Evaluating relationship parameters," they said, sucking air in through their teeth. What was the correct way to respond to Christine? "Analyzing compatibility of user goals. Processing. Please wait."
"What?" Jeremy jerked their head up to realize that Christine was clutching the lid of the toilet between her legs and leaning forward. She'd heard that. She'd heard that! Jeremy mouthed "only one is mine" a few times to himself silently, but Christine was noticing that too and was looking at them with a mix of suspicion and concern. Jeremy pushed themself up against the wall, clamoring out of the stall. "I have to go," they said urgently.
"You can tell me about it!" Christine burst out. "If you're going through a SQUIP relapse or something, I'm one of the only people in the school who'll understand! I don't get why you're avoiding-"
It didn't matter what else she said, because Jeremy had already squirmed beneath the bathroom stall and out the door. Their heart rate was raising rapidly and their perspiration was increasing, which was both unpleasant and unproductive. They closed their eyes, checking and regulating their cortisol production-
"Jeremy!" they heard. They almost made a break for it out of sheer surprise until they registered that the person calling their name was Michael. Jeremy felt a relieved grin appear on their face until they realized that Michael was dragging a second person behind him. A person who was a pure five-feet-five-inches of pissed-off. Their grin dropped. "What were you doing in the girls' bathroom?" Michael continued with a laugh.
Jeremy started to answer before Rich cut them off. "Who cares? We've gotta go."
"Are we running from someone?" Jeremy asked hesitantly, joining up with the two boys and resisting the urge to stick their hands in their pockets to hide the excess sweat. It wouldn't work and the gesture would make them look weak in front of Rich.
"No, we just figure this was more important than school," Michael said, taking his phone out and scrolling through some texts. They all headed toward the school theater, whose outside exit was notoriously hard to spot. It was an open secret that kids used it to sneak in and out of school grounds.
"We're ditching?" Jeremy said.
"Wait, what?" Rich said with an equal amount of disbelief. "We can't skip school! That'd ruin my perfect attendance!"
Jeremy gave him the side-eye, mentally reviewing Rich's school attendance records. "You don't have-"
Rich interrupted. "That's the joke, dumbass."
"Actually," Michael said, holding up a finger as the three of them poured through the exit door. "Jeremy, all that stalker info you've got on Rich? That's what we need to talk to you about."
"Couldn't it wait until after school?" Jeremy complained. "Something happened with Christine-"
"Put aside your straight boy problems for half a minute," Rich said dismissively. Jeremy's eye twitched at the lisp. Rich was now saying "straight boy" with just as much disrespect as he'd once been trained to say "gay" or "homo," which Jeremy thought was a peculiar development. "This is important."
Michael looked at Jeremy, then at a bulgy mass he had in his hoodie pocket. He reached into it meaningfully, drawing out the empty container of Mountain Dew Red. "And we might not have much time."