Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

It was, ironically, just about the only real consistency she’d ever had in life. No matter where she moved, or what she did, she’d had this growing, nagging desire to stop for about as long as she could remember. And no day was complete until she visualized it several thousand times.

Nicole normally got that chore checked off her list by lunch, and sometimes before she even left the house. Assuming she did leave the house, which was getting more and more difficult. Overcast days after New Year’s should just be automatic holidays where everyone gets to stay home and sleep until they’re dead.

But nobody listened to Nicole, so, yeah, she wanted to die.

Sometimes, she planned it. Other times, she got further. More than a few times, she actually tried. Hadn’t worked yet, obviously, which meant ‘life’ continued. Pretty soon she’d just default to something absolute, and be done with everything forever.

But that probably wasn’t today, because today had the tiniest, most pointless stupid thing to look forward to doing. A dumb, but kinda fun sounding, idea that Jecka had blurted while sprawled out drunk on the bathroom floor of Kelly’s house.

Skipping class on the roof.

Why not, right?

Okay, the ‘why’ was Jecka kinda spazzing out since Nicole may have zoned out while trying to find the right key, but whatever, they’d make it work. Wasn’t like anything mattered anyway. Or ever had.

Would kinda suck to disappoint Jecka, though.

“Relax, this is totally going to work,” assured Nicole, flipping through the keyring like a stack of cash, her empty smirk growing wider. “This school is exactly this lazy and dumb.”

“We could’ve just gone and smoked out by the alley,” stressed Jecka, standing over her shoulder and fidgeting as Nicole kept cycling through keys. “You weren’t supposed to actually listen to me about the roof!”

“Why not? You had a cool idea.”

“It wasn’t my idea!”

“Well, whoever had it was cool.”

“They—” Jecka huffed. “Why do you even care this much?”

“Exact same reason anyone wants anything.” Nicole selected what she was pretty sure was the right skeleton key and tried it on the roof access door next to the Math office. “Because they told us we can’t have it—nope, not that one…”

“You have five seconds before I take my cigarettes and leave. I’m not getting suspended because you were fumbling with a fucking keyring.”

“There’s like fifty of them, Jecka. You don’t lift stuff off a locksmith without going for the gold.” Nicole tried another key, and it slid in perfectly. “Hello, I think we have a winner.”

“Oh my God, did that actually work?” Jecka’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “No way.”

“Magic fingers.” Nicole turned the key and unlocked the door. “Yup. A generic skeleton key works for every door in this school—which I think is how those work in general. Handy to know in case we ever want to…” She frowned. “Stage a very depressing heist?”

“Ocean’s Eleven is not depressing, it’s super cool—ugh, I don’t care!” Jecka bowled past her, wedging the door open as she sprinted up to the roof, the autumn wind and fresh air bellowing around her and over Nicole. “Holy shit, I think I’m going to get black lung just from this stairwell!”

“Wow, you are not kidding. There’s no way this isn’t at least ten OSHA violations. We could totally sue the school.” Nicole closed the door behind her and twirled the keyring around her finger, her shoes dragging a thick layer of dust and dirt as she climbed the half story, the rusted over and slightly ajar door to the roof mocking them at the top of it. “Is it stuck?”

“The hinges are so old that I don’t think this is even legally a door anymore. Like, I think this is just a really shitty wall.” Jecka kicked the door, and the metal rattled and warped. “Woah. Did you see that?”

“Yeah, I saw it. Why did you stop?” Nicole stuffed the keyring into her jacket pocket and raised a brow. “Hulk out, bitch.”

Jecka kicked the door again. A second time. On the third time, the door snapped off of the frame and bent inward, crashing to the dead leaves and frisbee covered roof. Even as overcast and gray as it was, the sun beating down on them and everything felt…

Okay, it felt like nothing. Nothing ever felt like anything. Mostly. Brain still floating in formaldehyde? Yup, it sure is. A haze of a fog of static without sound or taste? Absolutely. Jecka looked happy that she kicked down a door like a badass, though, so that was something that should make Nicole happy.

She imagined it did until it got boring, which wasn’t as fast as she thought it would be.

“That was so cool!” yelled Jecka, hopping onto the roof and pumping her arms. “I have to learn how to kick down doors for real—I need that rush a million more times!”

“I think you just go for the hinges, unless TV has lied to us again.”

“Yeah, probably. Hey, if that door was still there, how’d Kylar even get up here last year?” asked Jecka, fishing a weird looking pack of cigarettes out of her pockets and sliding one out between her fingers. “Did he shimmy out of a window and use those douchebag muscles to climb?”

“He’s dumb enough to jump, so, yeah, he’s dumb enough to miss the stairs.” Nicole held out her hand as she followed Jecka around the piles of frisbees, the crunch of the long dead leaves beneath their shoes kinda unsettling. “I’m owed nicotine for my efforts.”

“You could just say please for once. It wouldn’t kill you.” Jecka handed her the softpack. “We’re even, anyway. You opened one door, I smashed down the next.”

“You must think you’re so badass right now.”

“I am so badass right now.” Jecka tried to light her cigarette, but the lighter didn’t work. “No, come on! Don’t die on me now, please, this is so cruel.”

Don’t die on her now.

Lucky for Jecka, it was actually pretty difficult to die right now.

Nicole wasn’t a jumper. They weren’t up high enough to ensure death on impact and every time she visualized it, even if she broke out into a dead sprint right that second—assuming her right leg didn’t tell her to fuck off because she wasn’t being diligent about her physical therapy from getting shot—and pretended she was practicing her long jump for the track team she wasn’t a part of—there would only be pain.

Her skull might crack inward, doing irreparable brain damage and leave her immobile or in a coma or something. She could break her spine and lose the use of her arms and legs. She could snap her own neck, smash face first with a giant grin into the concrete, and that might not even kill her. Totally useless from the face down.

And that was why Nicole wasn’t a jumper. The risk that she’d live as a dumb crippled bitch was so much worse than whatever bullshit she had to deal with on any given day. She’d choose getting a train run on her behind Circuit City, all of those fat sweaty nerds, all of them looking exactly like her brother, passing her around while she went limp…

She’d take that over losing her legs.

Because when they were done? She could still walk. Even after getting shot, Nicole could still walk! She could still live her life without having to depend on anybody else. Total autonomy, eventually. If she survived long enough to get it. If she decided it was worth the effort to survive that long.

“Nicole?” asked Jecka, snapping her out of her thoughts, still trying to light her cigarette. “What are you thinking about—ah, forget I said that!” She winced. “That’s such a stupid bitch thing to say, ugh!

“Forgotten.” Nicole shrugged. “It wasn’t anything new or interesting, anyway.” She paused for about half a second, her eyes glazing over before she blinked and refocused on Jecka. “Hey, uh…”

“Hm?” Jecka stopped trying to light her cigarette. “What?”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything until I know what it is.”

“Good instincts, yeah, but, okay…” Nicole took a breath. “I need you to keep talking.”

“How is that any different from what I—”

“Jecka, shut the fuck up and then stop shutting the fuck up and don’t stop.”

“Sure, alright.” Jecka nodded, her brow furrowing. “Is there—is this about something or what? Are you also going to be talking or am I doing a one-woman show?”

“I’m not taking questions at this time, and yeah it’s a conversation. Please keep talking for as long as you possibly can. Forever would be cool.” Nicole shrugged. “If you can’t do that? An hour.”

“Can I light my cigarette first?” asked Jecka, and the sincerity was—it was, uh…it was there. “Oh, I guess I can just keep talking while I do that—yeah, sure, I’ve got this.”

“I don’t give a shit what you say or do as long as you don’t stop.”

Okay, there was a second reason Nicole wasn’t a jumper. It was super contextual. And only about a year old. She didn’t want Jecka to see her do it, or what happened next, if Nicole was even alive.

And it’d also really suck to not hear Jecka talk ever again.

It was a bizarre sensation to actually give enough of a shit about somebody else’s feelings, and Nicole barely, so vaguely, so almost-not-even-at-all did that she was convinced it was a fluke. There was always the chance that—

“Why won’t you work?!” snapped Jecka, continuing her fight to the death with the crappy lighter. “I don’t have a spare, so you are my only hope. Stop screwing with me and burn!”

“You get into a lot of blood feuds with inanimate objects,” said Nicole. “It’s kinda cool.”

“It would be cooler if I could win and also have a post-murder cigarette.”

“About that. You’ve got to stop bumming your dad’s smokes,” grumbled Nicole, squinting down at the bizarre cigarette packaging, flipping the softpack over in her hands a few times. “Didn’t think they even made Lucky Strikes anymore. Did he use white out or file off the Surgeon General’s warning? I can’t even find where it’s supposed to be. What, does he think that’ll mean this shit won’t give you lung cancer?”

“It was my grandfather’s,” said Jecka, eventually lighting her cigarette after struggling with the lighter for way longer than should ever be possible, the failing click and snap growing louder and angrier until it finally worked. “Gotta remember to refill these.”

“That’s too much work. Buy a new one. Unless you like getting into a brawl with a gas station lighter once a month.”

“I actually kind of do. I get to vent so much frustration on this stupid little thing. And, if I buy more, there’s, like, evidence of how many I’m buying? I prefer to just not have to lie to my parents. It’s hard for me.” Jecka took a very, very long drag, leaning back against the cracked concrete exterior wall of the stairwell, a nearly washed away half-assed spray paint mural of a dog taking a shit somehow right above her head. “Oh my God, I needed this so bad.”

“No kidding.” Nicole turned the softpack around again. “You said this was your grandfather’s?”

“Yeah, my dad’s dad. Grandpa Pop-Pop, which was supposed to be short for ‘Patrick’, even though it’s really not since he always went by ‘Pat’. He used to do magic tricks for me when I was little, back before he died.” Jecka smiled and chuckled. “I wish I could say that it’s the weirdest heirloom we have, but it’s not.”

“Wow, that’s one of the most depressingly predictable dude things I’ve ever heard. Your grandpa passed down cigarettes.” Nicole smirked at that, as she looked past her, beyond the incredibly boring and stale vista of ‘two stories up surrounded by cookie-cutter suburbia’. The last thing she saw couldn’t be that destitute and boring. “I’d never have expected inhaling industrial amounts of tar and glass shards was a tradition worth keeping.”

“No way, they have those anti-smoking exhibits all over the country?” snickered Jecka, her face lighting up. Oddly enough, Nicole wouldn’t miss that as much as Jecka’s voice. “I thought that was just us! Did they drag you along in middle school and make you—”

“Try to breathe through the tiniest plastic straw, yeah, three years in a row. Every time with a new school.” Nicole didn’t hate those trips. It’d been kinda fun to point out how much more attractive the good shit was to the kids who swore off drugs ten seconds ago. No such thing as second-hand adderall. “Who’s that much of a brain dead dumbass to fall for that? Seriously, who would actually believe that smoking one time shrinks your windpipe, and fills your lungs with glass and tar—what kind of idiot sees those displays and thinks ‘yeah, wow, big tobacco is filling our lungs with glass’.”

“Yeah, make us swallow a shattered mirror to reflect the toxic air we breathe in the modern era.” Jecka’s eyes flicked around the roof as she spazzed out for a couple seconds. “That was supposed to sound really stupid! Is poetry that easy, or something? I was trying to make fun of those goth bitches who sit in the back of my AP Lit class!”

“Jecka, I promise…” Nicole shot her an empty smile. “It sounded incredibly stupid.”

Jecka talked a lot. She talked so much. Not in a bad way, in a fun way, or what Nicole half-remembered fun kind of felt like. She wasn’t annoying, even though she looked just preppy enough for Nicole to initially assume she would be. Somehow, she wasn’t.

Her first year there, Nicole slowly started to notice she didn’t think about the hundreds of wonderful ways to kill herself within the next two minutes, plausible or not, as much when Jecka was talking. She didn’t even need to be there for some of the ideas to filter out, which was super weird.

“Shut up, maybe I kinda liked it! I didn’t, but what if I did?” Jecka shook her head and picked a dead leaf off of her shoe. “Wasn’t the glass thing true, though? With cigarettes? Or it used to be. I don’t even remember what the filters are supposed to filter out.”

Texting worked. Not as well, but it worked. It was bullshit that it did work, because all of that other bullshit on TV or the therapists she traumatized before they could traumatize her or take advantage of being in a locked room with a ‘vulnerable’ teenage girl, yeah, they were right.

About talking.

Talking helped. Any kind of talking. Not talking about her fucked up brain, nope, not doing that. Most boring subject ever and then Jecka would jump off the roof and—oh God no, don’t visualize that! Stop it, stop it, stop, you dumb bitch! Why are you always—

“Nicole,” boomed Jecka, weirdly loudly, her neck straining. “Do you remember what the filters are supposed to filter out? Or, no? Was it tar?”

“Oh, uh, even if any of that ‘gateway drug’ propaganda is true…” forced out Nicole, the image of Jecka’s pretty face flattening into the ground burning away in her mind’s eye right before impact. “Nobody should be that big of a bitchy baby about it. Suck down your garden grade asphalt and die like everyone else.” She eyed the ancient cigarettes very carefully. “Speaking of, are these even going to do anything? Does tobacco have a half-life?”

“How do you even know that word?”

“I had the choice between listening to Jeffery talk about that bible anime with the robots for the millionth time, thereby irradiating my brain beyond repair, or a lecture on radioactivity.”

“Wow. You actually chose life.” Jecka sized her up, and Nicole tried to use her broken-ass brain to force her to smile again. Didn’t happen. “I think that’s considered a breakthrough, right?”

“Not really.” Nicole shook her head. “Anything beats a death that pathetic.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess it does. Well, as far as science lectures go, there’s worse ones to get stuck with.” Jecka stuck out her tongue and flashed her a wink. “You even learned a new word! I’m so proud of you, Nicole! You’re finally putting effort into your studies—blah blah blah blaaaaaaaaaaaaah.” She rolled her eyes. “Can’t even keep up the impression without wanting to barf.”

“Yeah, well, I paid really close attention, so I’m at least going to use all the bullshit that’s lodged in my skull now.” Nicole shook the softbox at Jecka. “So? Does tobacco have a half-life?”

“No, Nicole, tobacco, doesn’t have a fucking half-life! It’s not radioactive!”

“Shows what you know. Everything is a little radioactive.”

“They’re not even old, okay? My dad didn’t inherit the cigarettes. He got the box, so don’t drop it or touch it too much or bend it or lick it or even look at it wrong. Don’t shake it again, either.” Nicole took another drag. “He used to roll his own, so take a second to be super happy he quit doing it. He was so bad at it.”

“Your dad buys new cigarettes and puts them in a box that’s older than he is, because…?” Nicole rolled her eyes and snatched the lighter away, knocking one out of the softpack and slipping between her lips. “Actually, no, I don’t give a shit.” She lit her—she tried to light her cigarette. Again. And again. And again. “Fucking Goddamnit! How much are you smoking that you actually killed a lighter?!”

“A lot—I just told you I’m not buying new ones.”

“Yeah, but not why.”

“Oh, true. Well, okay, so, my mom started using a safe for her meds—I don’t even want her heroin—and all of my cherry pickers got banned from the good Seven-Eleven.” Jecka shrugged and crossed her arms, exhaling smoke from her nose, her eyes flickering closed for a second. “All at the same time, too. Spooky.”

Photography was for emo dipshits and artsy stalkers. It wasn’t something that Nicole thought was interesting, or even appreciated. Even less after Mr. White turned out to be a hardcore white nationalist. That didn’t mean it wasn’t so easy to instantly notice when something was literally picturesque without being pretentious, since Jecka was basically incapable of being that.

That moment. Those two seconds, at most, where Jecka was somehow posing accidentally like a model on a magazine cover but also not like that since there wasn’t any kind of gross editing to fuck with people’s beauty standards—it was just her. Anything more wouldn’t be Jecka, and that was just all kinds of wrong.

Nicole would call herself a creepy stalker if she knew that guys didn’t appreciate any of this shit like she did. All they could see were three holes. Never the person. Which was insane, because, seriously—how do you even begin to ignore someone like Jecka?

Who could possibly not focus all of their attention on somebody who—

“Nicole,” boomed Jecka, snapping her out of her brain and unintentionally making Nicole look like a dumbass inside her own head. “You have historically given me crap for liking Fireball since, like, the third day we’ve known each other. It is more than a little weird that you have nothing to say here.”

“Figured you could use a break?”

Jecka stared at her, clearly entirely unconvinced.

“Okay, look, that’s not the stupid part of that, alright?” redirected Nicole, which felt weird but also not. Difficult but way too easy. The hell was going on? “Jecka, you had like six guys buying you the equivalent of a semi full of Fireball. You pushed your luck so far I’m surprised you’re not just teeth on the side of the road.” She kept trying to use the dead lighter, because she really needed a cigarette, and she was also dry of everything else. “Be a real bad bitch for once and get the cops to buy it for you directly. They’re not gonna arrest themselves.”

“Yeah, but then I’d have to blow at least two cops, and I’m kinda not into the whole uniform thing after, uhm, watching you get…shot. And the other stuff.” Jecka gave her a sidelong glance, swallowing an eye-shaking shiver, and tapped ash onto the ground. Ah, trauma repression. The shit standard shows its ugly face yet again. “Are you just going to do that until you break your thumb or scratch off your fingerprints? Are you somehow too proud to ask for a light?”

“Ask how?” Nicole looked down at the burning edge of Jecka’s cigarette. Play dumb, but not too dumb. No, wait, all or nothing! “Shit, seriously? Does that even work?”

“It’s fire. Fire’s just fire, Nicole,” groaned Jecka. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“I thought it was, I dunno…” Nicole made the critical error of quadrupling down on stupid instead of just ending the thought and letting Jecka do something that would be really cool and nice to have happen. “Movie magic, or something.”

“It’s fire! It’s literally just fire!”

“Is it really just fire, Jecka?” Nicole sneered and leaned way into her personal space, dropping her voice an octave and fluttering her eyes. “Or is there some other kind of heat you’re yearning for? A cigarette kiss can’t possibly be enough for you, Jecka, right? Do you want to know what I think? I think you really want to get on your knees and show me all there is to see. Come on, baby. Won’t you light my fire?”

“Oh my God, stop. You don’t even like classic rock—why do you know The Doors?” Jecka, grumbling through a blush, grabbed Nicole’s cigarette and her own, twisted the edges together until both were lit, and handed Nicole’s back as she bit down on hers. “You’re welcome.”

“Mhmm.” Nicole took a drag and very quickly felt that fog around her joints, the mushy bland nothing potatoes that her skull sloshed in almost every single second of every day…not dissipating even a little. Nothing happened except a tiny blip of dopamine telling her that ‘hello, you are still alive, you worthless bitch’. “We should’ve laced this with something. Like. Literally anything at all.”

What did she expect? Cigarettes didn’t numb her or shut off her brain, or even overload it to the point that she thought so much about dying that she thought about everything all at once. Canceled out. It wasn’t that good of a stimulant.

Smoking was kinda only something she did to do it.

A social thing, which was dumb, even if it was true. Nicole maybe kinda got Jecka addicted to them because it was true. Hard to feel bad about that when it always gave them an excuse to hang out. She probably should feel bad. She didn’t.

She wanted to.

She really—

“Nicole! Hey, hi!” boomed Jecka, again. “Quit zoning out. Focus on me. Do you have anything to even use?”

“That’s not the point. I just wish we did.”

“Sooooo helpful.”

“I’m not used to sobriety, okay?”

“Oh.” Jecka eyed her. “I was hoping I was wrong, but oh, okay, I get it.”

“Get what? There’s nothing to get.”

“We shouldn’t be on the roof. This was a really bad idea!” Jecka massaged her temples. “I am such a dumb biiiiiiiitch!”

“We can be on the roof. The roof is fine.” Nicole took another drag. “You wanted to be on the roof, so the roof is good.”

“I didn’t want to be on the—whatever. Okay, okay, the roof is good. Roof’s great.” Jecka nodded several times. “Roof is awesome.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Don’t tell me not to push things! The roof is super cool!” Jecka raised a brow. “You’re not holding anything? That sounds basically impossible.”

“Mom lifted all of my shit for herself last night. That’s like the twelfth ‘ultimatum’ before kicking me out on the street she’s given in two weeks.” Nicole rolled her cigarette in her fingers, her shoulders slouching beside Jecka as she let the wall do the rest of the work. “Some insurance problem, or whatever. Or maybe a shortage. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Why would your mom steal xanax, percocet, and adderall?” asked Jecka. “Doesn’t she do the way harder stuff? Even if our baby dosages smoothes the edge off, that's going to be a nasty withdrawal. It’s like, kind of literally pointless for her to do that.”

“Yeah, she’s a massive bitch, I agree,” said Nicole, way too fast, because Jecka was way too smart, and needed to be redirected or distracted before she got any further down that line of thought. “Maybe she can borrow some of your mom’s heroin and they can be needle sisters?”

“She does not share, trust me. But, that’s, uh…” Jecka narrowed her eyes at Nicole, taking another drag. “Nicole, I’m gonna have a really hard time endlessly talking if you keep lying to my face.”

“I’m not lying,” lied Nicole, terribly. “She’s a massive bitch.”

“Yeah, I agree, but that’s not what we’re talking about. She’s never done that before. I’ve heard her scream and whine and bitch and moan about pills and whatever…” Jecka flicked her hands about, flapping her mouth wide to presumably mock Nicole’s mom. It was pretty good; Nicole wished she could laugh at it. “Except, that’s all she ever does. Complain.”

Nicole took another drag and decided that it was possible Jecka would give up if she didn’t say anything else. You know, maybe half a percent chance, but it was possible. Technically.

“She didn’t take your drugs,” concluded Jecka, accurately. “You don’t want me to see what you have. What do you—” She pinched her brow. “Oh my God. Please, please tell me this isn’t more coke. Nope, you’d have already cooked it, so it’s crack—I can’t do this again.”

“It’s not, promise. I pushed my luck, the return on investment is barely worth the risk, and you only need one civics project to pass, okay? Dude, no, it’s just…” Nicole scowled and lightly bopped the back of her head against the concrete wall, staring at the sky. “Half my stash isn’t entirely not mine anymore.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means my mom paid off a shrink to chemically castrate my brain, okay?” snapped Nicole, glaring at her. “You wanna see, here!” She dug into her pockets and shoved two pill bottles at Jecka. “There you go. Enjoy.”

“Lexapro and clon—clonaza—clonazepam,” read aloud Jecka, her eyes flicking across the tiny labels. “I’ve heard of these. Antidepressants and antianxiety.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Nicole, I’m not going to judge you or mock you for having prescription drugs,” said Jecka, her face twisting in confusion. “Like, everybody has something that’s being thrown at them until they actually need or want it.” She blinked and tilted her head. “Wait, your mom bribed a psychiatrist to get you meds that would actually help you? Did she have a stroke? Does she have syphilis?

“No, Jecka, she didn’t have a stroke and—” Nicole gagged. “What the fuck? How does that—why would you even ask that? How would I know? Why would I know?”

“I dunno, but on TV it can invert somebody’s personality. That’s pretty much the only explanation I can think of with your mom doing something apparently right.”

“That’s stupid and insane and probably not true.” Nicole rolled her eyes and took another drag. “Okay, maybe she didn’t pay off the shrink, I don’t know. None of this shit is going to help, anyway.”

“Awesome, cool, spit in the face of something that could make life a little easier. I still can’t even get sleeping pills while you get backstage access to the real shit.” Jecka crooked her lips. “How about you just try it for a day?”

“Fuck off, no.”

“One day.” Jecka held up a finger. “One.”

“It takes weeks for one of them to do anything, Jecka!”

“That’s awful; it shouldn’t work like that.” Jecka stood up straighter. “Okay, then what’s the problem with the other one?”

“How is it not obvious?” Nicole snatched the bottles back and shook them. “She’s only doing this to control me. Drug me out of my mind so I can’t fight back or run away or even know my own name anymore or tell her to stop shoving this crap down my throat.”

“You already do that to yourself like every other day, Nicole.” Jecka took another heavy drag. “You know what? This is actually a good thing.”

“It is?” Nicole raised a brow, now extremely concerned. “Wait, which part is good?”

“I was worried I’d run out of things to talk about, since, you know, you asked me to never stop talking,” reminded Jecka, smirking and tapping ash. “This can be my emergency topic. ‘Hey, Nicole, did you take your meds? Why not? You should take them today!’.”

“Wow.” Nicole felt a sudden spike of rage that almost immediately dissipated into her gut. “You can try for as long as you like. I will never start on that shit.”

“Then why’d you fill it?”

“I didn’t. My mom did.” Nicole sighed. “I’m sick of the roof. I hate it up here.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah?” Nicole gave her a sidelong glance, and that smug grin was as irritating as it was welcome. “How’s that?”

“I’m up here.” Jecka rested her palm on her chest and winked. “And I’m going to be here literally as often as I possibly can, so if you want me to keep talking—”

“You are taking that way too literally,” lied Nicole, again, not that well. But still better than last time. “You’re relieved of duty. Stop talking.”

“You’re so full of it. You said forever or an hour, and an hour is not up to muster.” Jecka hopped away from the wall. “I’m not going to stop, so you are going to come up here when I’m up here.”

“Oh my God, fine, whatever, I do not care enough to argue about this.” Nicole threw up a hand. “Let’s just pretend I put up some fight, and go to lunch.”

“It’s, uh…” Jecka wrinkled her nose. “It’s not our lunch yet, Nicole.”

“And?” Nicole raised a brow at her. “What, are you not coming with me?”

“Wow, you are really holding me down to the minute?” Jecka snickered. “You want me to clock in and out on your ass or something?”

“Down to the—oh.” Nicole had asked her to talk for an hour, and it had only been about twenty minutes. “You’re not getting paid time-and-a-half, so there’s no point.”

“Oh, yes I am.” Jecka jabbed her thumb at her chest. “This is specialized labor.”

“How am I supposed to pay you one-point-five times nothing, Jecka?”

“Easy.” Jecka smiled. “Buy me ice cream and I’ll keep skipping with you.”

“You want a bribe to skip? Skipping is the reward.”

“Cost-benefit analysis, bitch. I want ice cream, and you need me to keep talking, so this isn’t worth the risk without ice cream.” Jecka stuck out her tongue. “Are you gonna buy some or not?”

“Jesus Christ, fine.”

Nicole may have underestimated how incapable Jecka was at half-assing something.

Sure, she’d asked her to not stop talking for an hour the day before, if ‘forever’ wasn’t possible, but she hadn’t actually expected her to fully deliver. With the exception of sleeping, Jecka had apparently decided that it was her mission in life to not stop talking. The classes they shared were already a somewhat constant stream of conversation, but even more since Nicole had asked her to…do more.

When they were apart, Jecka’s texts blew up her phone so much that the mess of stalkers and rapists she normally got flooded with were somehow scared off. School was over? Jecka hung out with her until Nicole’s mom had to actually physically kick her out of the house so she’d go home. Phone call in the car, to continue the bullshit they were talking about, and then texting until Nicole passed out in bed. And when she woke up…

Jecka had texted her for an entire hour longer than she’d been awake, and within two seconds of responding to the latest message, the whole thing started up again at full speed. It was nice. There was no way that Jecka, that anyone, could keep it up forever. No chance. Impossible.

It’d be…cool, while it lasted. While Nicole lasted. Maybe longer than she thought, maybe not.

Probably not.

So, Nicole did indeed follow Jecka back up to the roof the next day, and about two seconds after they started to smoke, Jecka kept the rest of her word. The thing that Nicole had kind of forgotten about because it hadn’t come up again.

“Did you take your meds?” asked Jecka, staring very closely at Nicole. “You don’t seem chill at all, so I’m guessing not.”

“You are being such a massive bitch about this,” grumbled Nicole. “Cut it out or I walk.”

“You’re bluffing.” Jecka tapped her foot very dramatically. “Yes or no, Nicole? Yes or—”

“We’re not doing that,” interrupted Nicole, because she had a way better idea. “I think my mom is trying to coerce me into sexual favors.”

“Oh my God, Nicole! Ew!” Jecka took another drag, her eyes widening in disgust as she seemingly successfully distracted. “Why the hell would you even say that? Do you seriously want to fuck your mom?”

“No! Jesus Christ—I’m saying I think she wants that!”

“Is she like…” Jecka grimaced and frowned. “What’s she doing?”

“Same bullshit as the guys. Stare, negging, stare, false sense of security, stare, lots of screaming I can’t escape, stare…” said Nicole, counting off on her fingers. “Get all handsy when I don’t listen to her, and also when I do. Make me super dependent on her financially. Get all possessive with my shit. Emotional manipulation.” She took another drag, which continued to do nothing. “All the classics, now tailored and tapered for the middle-aged woman!”

“Wow, Nicole—you actually had me super freaked out!” Jecka rolled her eyes and took another drag. “That’s just moms being moms. Super shitty and invasive.”

“I know, and I almost got you, too.” Nicole smirked, and it was mostly real. She’d thought of that one the night before when her mom actually had taken every single thing she’d stashed away because her insurance was in some weird financial limbo bullshit and she was out of vicodin. “Think I could trick somebody with that one?”

“Super easily, yeah. Kelly wouldn’t even question it.” Jecka exhaled smoke from her nose and looked up at the overcast sky. Click. Another picture. “Wait, do you mean make her think that her mom is trying to fuck her, or that yours is?”

“I hadn’t really thought about the angle of my mom fucking somebody else.” Nicole whistled in amusement. “I’d basically be her pimp! Hey, that’s not a bad plan. I could make some serious bank on—”

“Pimping out your mom?!” snapped Jecka. “Nicole!”

“How’s it any different from her day-to-day? She’s just getting paid for it instead of not.”

“Just—just go with the other thing!” sputtered Jecka. “Convince people that their mom—oh my God, what is this conversation I’m having?”

“An awesome one.”

“Sometimes I think you grew up with a different dictionary than the rest of us.”

“I probably did.” Nicole had thought that herself starting from around age twelve when words stopped making sense and everyone went deaf but her. She’d been reading lips poorly and refusing to learn ASL for a while, and she wasn’t about to admit defeat yet. “Ninety-nine percent of the population seems to think ‘pedophile’ is a synonym for ‘saint’.”

“Barely one-percent thinks that, Nicole.”

“Priests,” reminded Nicole, taking another drag, and accepting that her mom was good for literally one thing and that was having no faith in anything. “Them.”

“Oh, wow, people do think that…” Jecka paled and shivered, and it wasn’t because of the sudden gust of wind that scrambled the piles of dead leaves to the edge of the roof. “How many saints were secretly pedophiles?”

“All of ‘em.”

“All of them? Really? Even Joan of Arc?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Nicole, totally remembering who that was. “Even…that guy.”

“Sure.” Jecka snickered. Picture number three. “What were we talking about?”

“Convincing people that their moms were going to try and fuck them.”

“Ohhhhhkay, maybe we could talk about something else?”

“Actually, wouldn’t their dad be a way easier sell?” continued Nicole, because it was an interesting idea and it needed to be thought through to the end. “It’s not like men are suddenly going to stop being monsters in the next ten seconds.”

“You really wanted to talk about this, didn’t you?” sighed Jecka, taking another drag. “You are going to literally get some people murdered if you try to pull this, Nicole.”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point. Less people alive means there aren’t as many assholes to fuck with me. The problem is that I’ll get murdered, too.” Nicole swept out her hand. “Way too easily traced back.”

“What does it say about the kind of person I am that I always want to hang out with you?” Jecka stared at her. “You could snap and go full serial killer, be an actual super villain, and I’d still text you and ask ‘hey, babe, how’s the hunt for Superman going? Wanna hit up Red Lobster?’”

“There’s no context where I wouldn’t drop everything for Red Lobster—wait, wait, wait, Superman? Is that a Smallville thing?”

“Yes—” Jecka caught herself, pouting. Another picture that Nicole would actually delete because, gross, ew, she didn’t want to be the kind of person who got off on images of pouting girls. “No, it’s not, no! Superman is a basic culture thing, Nicole!”

“If it was, you would have called me Lex Luthor directly, instead of just implying it.” Nicole snorted and took another drag. “But you didn’t, so it’s nerd shit.”

“It’s not nerd shit—it’s on the CW! It’s a real network on basic cable!” defended Jecka. “And you know it too, since you know who Lex Luthor even is.”

“Everybody knows who that is. It’s basic culture, right?”

“You’re proving my point.” Jecka crossed her arms. “Who would you even want to kill, anyway?”

“If I were a serial killer?” Nicole raised a brow. “Like, who would my type be? Dahmer-style?”

“No, I meant—actually, yeah, that’s way more interesting. Who would it be?”

Nicole had an extremely detailed answer to that question, since she’d often considered the logistical feasibility of becoming a serial killer. Not a lot, just a couple of times. A month. Which meant, obviously, she would use the tried and true method of getting Jecka to talk more and more and more and more until she could get some sort of social contact high that she still wasn’t feeling.

Deflection.

“You first,” said Nicole. “I need to know what tone you’re setting.”

“Okay, uhm…” Jecka chewed on her lip. “Pedophiles? I guess?”

“That’s not serial killing, Jecka. Your victims need to be human for it to be murder.”

“Then I guess I’m not a potential serial killer.” Jecka sniffed. “Guess I’ll need to find a different career path. Aw, shucks!”

“Dagnabit!”

“Phooey!” Jecka snickered as Nicole took another drag. “Your turn. Your type for serial killing.”

“Every guy at school who either makes eye contact or tries to speak with me,” answered Nicole, chickening out because the real answer was a lot more graphic and vivid. Jecka never responded well to the truly horrifying shit—she’d always listen, but she’d look sad at the end of it. Not worth it. “Honestly, every guy.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I bothered asking. I wouldn’t snitch, but with that kind of pattern, you’d get caught after maybe six murders.” Jecka hummed and bobbed her head. “Unless you stopped at five with Jeffery. Then nobody would even care or notice to look into it.”

“That gives me an even better idea. What if I convinced him that his mom wanted to fuck and murder him?” whistled Nicole. “He’d kill his mom and himself! I’m an actual genius!”

“Except for the part where I’m pretty sure he’d be super into that?” offered Jecka, raising a brow at her. “I think that’s a super popular thing in cartoon porn.”

“Incestual murder-suicide?”

“No, just the incest.”

“That makes it so much more normal, yeah—just incest.” Nicole rolled her eyes and took another drag. “Like it’s some ‘Cool Whip on Wonder Bread’ thing on the kid’s menu.”

“I think you can order that at Fuddrucker’s.”

“Gross—hold on, why the fuck do you know about similarities in cartoon porn?”

“Searching for what you actually want on RedTube means you have to scroll through the worst shit imaginable, Nicole! I have seen things. I have suffered for my half-decent erotica!”

“Kinda surprised it even goes up to half-decent.”

“You take what you can get when what you want is what most people don't.”

“You’re studying those creepy goth bitches too closely.” Nicole almost felt the tiniest pang of something from hearing that, that tiny rattle in her chest and bubble in her gut vanishing so quickly she nearly didn’t notice it at all. “That sounded like the moral of a really lame story.”

“It’s not a moral. It’s just the shitty truth.”

“Same problem with that.”

“I’m not doing this on purpose!”

“I know.”

“Did you take your meds?” asked Jecka, on day three of their excursions to the roof. Which Nicole really just could not bring herself to hate or not look forward to on some tiny level. Even as irritating and invasive as Jecka was being, it was still…good to hear her talk. “Did you try them? Wanna try them today? I’ll try them with you, y’know, if you’re that scared.”

“Fuck off.” Nicole accepted the light from Jecka and frowned at her. “You just want free tranqs.”

“Hey, if you’re not going to use them, sell them, or flush them, I may as well offer.”

“Haven’t decided yet.” Nicole took another drag but stopped the moment she noticed Jecka was inching closer to a pile of frisbees. “Okay, no, we are not going to be frisbee friends. That’s a douchebag guy thing and I’ll have no part of it.”

“Oh my God, chill. I just thought it would be fun while we pass the time.” Jecka, in an act of defiance that Nicole instinctively wanted to obliterate, picked up an old frisbee with a logo so faded that she was pretty sure it was older than them. “You’d totally catch it if I threw this to you.”

“If you throw a frisbee at me, Jecka, I’m going to break it over my knee.”

“You will?”

“Bitch, you know I don’t make empty threats.” Nicole furrowed her brow. “You actually want to see me do that now, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah? It’d look super badass!” chirped Jecka, backing up a few feet, testing the weight of the frisbee. “Ew, there’s like a full inch of dust on these.”

“Jecka, this was supposed to discourage you from throwing the stupid frisbee!” groaned Nicole. “Fine, whatever, I won’t break it in half. How do you like that?”

“You said you’d do something cool, so do it, bitch!” laughed Jecka, whipping the frisbee at her. “No empty threats!”

Nicole clumsily caught the frisbee, glared at it, and, after a sigh, snapped it in half over her knee, the two pieces falling to the ground. She pretended that doing that didn’t hurt at all, and absolutely succeeded despite her reddening face and grinding teeth. None the wiser. Coolest bitch there ever was.

“Are you okay?” asked Jecka, settling back on the wall beside her. “You’re, uh, not that strong, so—”

“Drop it—hey, why are you even watching porn when you can just get laid? Let’s talk about that.”

“I’m a little concerned and surprised you kept that in your head since yesterday, Nicole.” Jecka did not blink. “Yeah, I really don’t want to talk about that.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to be friends with someone who is two steps away from joining an ultimate frisbee league and have that completely consume her identity and soul like a fucking singularity to the point where the only things that come out of her mouth are ‘sorry, my ultimate league is doing a meet tonight’ and ‘wanna join my ultimate frisbee team?’, but we are all about making compromises these days, aren’t we?”

“Why do you have such a specific vendetta against—” Jecka sighed, very deeply. “Your brother used to play it, didn’t he?”

“It was all he’d ever talk about for years! And it attracts the creepiest guys—it didn’t matter where we were, he would always find people. I swear, that last year he was into it, I lost almost all of my underwear for weeks to his fucking ‘friends’ rummaging through my shit while I was trying to find places in the house to hide from them.”

“You only lost them for weeks? They gave them back—oh. Oh, my God.” Jecka swallowed vomit. “That’s so gross. Why do guys do that?!”

“All of them are fucking monsters or pedophiles in waiting, Jecka.” Nicole took another drag and forced herself to calm down, swallowing it all deeper and deeper, punching it further, crushing it. Totally crushing it. “So, how about we drop the frisbees, forever, and talk about your future porn addiction?”

“Okay, Jesus, fine—hey, I’m not an addict, Nicole.” Jecka rolled her eyes. “Can’t believe I can say that we got officially cleared for that.”

“No, that was sex addiction. This is a porn addiction.”

“What’s the difference? How can there even be a difference? We don’t have—neither of those things are things we’re addicted to!”

“Spoken like a true future addict. If you won’t admit you have a problem, then the first step is going to be to prove that there’s no problem at all.”

“I just—I’m not addicted, okay? Sometimes I’m really tired or just—just really sad and…” Jecka averted her eyes. “I don’t always feel like rolling the dice on getting murdered or knocked up.”

“Fair,” mumbled Nicole, knowing she should ask why Jecka was sad but not actually able to do it. “That’s never a risk you should take.”

Guilt was a far-off concept.

Quarter, maybe only an eight-remembered from when Nicole was…ten? Eleven? It got less and less useful the more they moved. What was the point in feeling bad about doing anything if you were just going to vanish in another month or two. Zero accountability and consequences meant never regretting anything you did.

It was liberating. Isolating, too. Not that Nicole realized that until Jecka actually wanted to talk to her on her second day of school last year. Jecka was excited. Genuinely, actually, truly excited and happy to see Nicole, someone she’d just met, outside the front entrance, with a giant smile and an even bigger wave. Burned into her brain until her dying breath.

First time that had ever happened, as far as Nicole could remember. And in return, Nicole had essentially scarred Jecka for life by constantly reminding her of how horrifying and dangerous the world was for…her own safety?

To share in the burden of suffering with knowledge?

Nicole couldn’t feel like shit about that. She wanted to, though. Not even guilt for lack of guilt, because that would still be guilt, which she couldn’t—it wasn’t there. Even if her advice was going to save Jecka’s life one day, being more cognizant and observant and paranoid and vigilant, it was still a fucking horrible thing to force on somebody who seemed happier without it.

That wasn’t even why she did it. That’ve been noble. Helpful.

She did it just to do it, and she had a lot of little scars to prove it. There would only be more later until she could figure out how to stop. Until she wanted to stop, which she didn’t. So, really, there was—

“Nicole,” boomed Jecka, snapping her out of her head again. “When you zone out, it makes me feel like you don’t want to talk to me, or that you don’t want me to talk.”

“I’m not trying to do that. It just happens.”

“Guess I’ve gotta step my game up—did you take your meds?”

“Jecka.”

“Fine.” Jecka chewed on her lip. “Okay, uhm—oh!” She snapped her fingers. “When is sex ever even worth the effort, anyway? Like, dead serious. When?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Who else would I want to ask?”

“True, yeah. Well, whenever it's good? I think?”

“Never happens.” Jecka shrugged, scowling down at a pile of frisbees. “It’s never happened once. It’s only ever okay or horrible.”

“Wow.” Nicole raised her brows. “You’ve never actually had good sex?”

“Rub it in more, thanks,” grumbled Jecka. “We all know you’ve had a ton of it, you lucky bitch.”

“About a whole month of it with Ari,” agreed Nicole, entirely lacking in enthusiasm. “I think I had sex with Emily, but I honestly can’t remember anything from those two weeks I was in remedial.” She raised her brows. “I was really fucked up. I actually thought she tried to drag me into a suicide pact to make a point about modern poetry? Or rap?”

“That did happen, Nicole.”

“It did?”

“Yeah. You both almost died—how do you not remember this? Emily bounced back in a day but you were basically comatose for a week!”

“That would probably be why I don’t remember, Jecka.”

“Oh. Yeah, good point.”

“I’ve been known to make a few.” Nicole shrugged. “What was I on? I almost want to ask Emily but I have this weird feeling that she’d get really mad if I talk about any of that.”

“I don’t know what you two were thinking, but Ms. Ames is gone, so congratulations if that was your goal.” Jecka perked up. “Ohhhh, so that’s why you kept asking if anyone had experience dealing with ghosts.”

“Yeah, and everyone thought I was high and kidding! Even Emily!” snapped Nicole, throwing up her hands. “Okay, I was high, but—whatever. I do remember Ari. Is it weird to say I wish I could give you half?”

“Half of what? Your memories? Blindfolding Ari every other time so I can sneak in through your window and fuck her instead?” Jecka took another drag and blushed, a tiny bit. “There’s no answer that’s not super weird.”

“I was trying to be—” Nicole frowned and took another drag. “I don’t know what I was trying.”

“You were trying to be nice. And that was even weirder.” Jecka smiled at her. “Still super sweet to offer, though. Thanks.”

“Life’s not fair so we need to make it unfair for us, right?” said Nicole, realizing that if she took pictures, even too detailed mental ones, of Jecka, she’d lose another reason to wake up. Having the visual reference at all times meant she didn’t need any new material. “You must be pretty desperate if you’re willing to fuck someone that pathetic.”

“I take it back. That wasn’t sweet at all.”

“Did you take your meds?” asked Jecka, once again, and Nicole was prepared that time. “Did you try them? I’m still open to trying them with you. The tranqs, I mean.”

“Nope.” Nicole shot her an empty grin. “Sold a bunch of them, though. Made some decent cash.”

“You sold them?” Jecka scowled at her, tensing up and—oh, wow, okay, she was extremely mad. “Why would you do that instead of taking your own shit ‘recreationally’? What were you thinking?!”

“That I wanted money to buy more xanax and a different answer to your question.” Nicole took a drag, forcing a chuckle. “You know, make that second job of yours easier, since you have to think of so many things to say all the time.”

“You’re an idiot,” grumbled Jecka, crossing her arms and exhaling smoke through her nose. “You are a massive idiot.”

“Mhmm.” Nicole expected to be interrupted, or for Jecka to launch into a giant ramble about how stupid she was, but it didn’t happen. Jecka just stood there, staring off the side of the roof, furious, and all but chewing through her cigarette. “You, uh. Yeah.”

Jecka glanced at her for a split second before looking away, shaking her head.

Nicole continued to wait, and there was a tiny sliver of fear from how quickly all of those thoughts Jecka had been battling off flooded back into place, her mind’s eye nearly drowning in every single variation on how to land on her neck just right to snap her spine in half so that she—

“Nicole.” Jecka grabbed her shoulder and Nicole had not realized she was starting to sweat a little bit. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Hey, if putting me down gets you off, be my guest,” recovered Nicole, sort of. “I’m here for you, Jecka.” She blinked as Jecka gave her a very odd look. “Uh. What I meant to say, was that, well, I just can’t get over the idea that you’ve never enjoyed sex.”

“Really.” Jecka snorted into a tiny smile. “That’s what—you’re seriously still thinking about that?”

“Can we pretend I was?”

“Sure.” Jecka let go of her shoulder and took another drag. “It, yeah, it does seem fucking impossible, yeah.” She snickered. “Heh. ‘Fucking’.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m having fun, and you asked me not to shut up, very specifically, so no.”

“Ugh. You can’t even bail out of the game, either. Can’t just stop putting out,” added Nicole, failing to sound sympathetic. That’s what she should be sounding like, right? “Not this late in.”

“I know. It's such bullshit! Once you let one dick in you, even the tiniest, grossest one ever—”

“—I’m not sharing my first just because you did yours—”

“That’s not my—no! Ew!” Jecka frowned. “Once you open up, you’re not allowed to close for business.”

“Unless you find Jesus,” suggested Nicole, more sincerely than she ever thought she’d be able to with that sentence. “Guys are super threatened by imaginary boyfriends who can really work a girl up just by ghosting them to hang out with their dad.”

“Oh my God.” Jecka snorted into a laugh at that, and it sounded like…laughter. It should sound nicer. Better. Cooler. It didn’t. Nicole really wished it did. “It’s so not worth it, though. I’d have to actually go to church like, all the time!”

“You could join a convent. Become a nun.”

“How is that better?” asked Jecka, her face twisting. “How?”

“Uhhh, because then, you could…” Nicole really struggled with that one. “Fuck as many girls as you wanted and nobody would be able to give you shit about it?”

“Yeah, but then it’d be way harder to get with Ryan Sheckler, because they’re super not okay with fucking guys. If I was sneaky, I could make it work…” Jecka chewed on her lip and hummed, tapping ash. “I’d get free food, no rent—why doesn’t everyone do this?”

“You’d also be married to God, and would have to do all that other nun shit.”

“If I’m married to God, then God’ll totally get why I’m cheating on him with Ryan Sheckler,” chuckled Jecka. “What’s the other nun shit?”

“I don’t know, like—” Nicole shrugged. “Actually praying and helping sick and homeless people? Dressing like a nun?”

“I totally forgot about the robes! Yeah, no way, I’m way too hot to cover up with a giant frumpy bedsheet.”

“Then you’re shit out of luck. No bank holidays, no vacations!” boomed Nicole. “Spread yourself far and wide!” She shrugged. “If you don’t, you get your neck snapped in a gangbang ‘correcting’ your behavior.”

“I already know that, Nicole!” grunted Jecka, tapping ash and scowling at the pile of frisbees in front of them. “College will be better. I just need to keep reminding myself of that. College will be better.”

“Yeah, hate to forecast a shit storm of skeety rain on your future parade, but college is going to be worse, Jecka,” lied Nicole. She didn’t hate it. More ambivalent. Correcting people was a thing to do that was almost easier than breathing. If they were wrong, she was right. She shouldn’t have done it that time. Still did. “The odds tank to one-in-three instead of one-in-four.”

“Can you please just let me have this? Please? Fucking please?”

“Fine, yeah, you can have it.” Nicole said all of that too fast for it to sound sincere. “Your college life will be badass and full of awesome sex.”

“It totally will be.”

“Anything’s a step up from drowning in this septic tank.” Nicole glanced at her. “You're way too pretty to have lame sex forever, Jecka.”

“Bitch, you know I know that, but I still do!” Jecka threw up her hands. “Even if I was a full-time lesbian, it’s not like every girl is awesome at sex, so I’d probably still have to deal with this bullshit, but then it’d be even worse in new and exciting ways!”

“Girls who are bad at fucking other girls would be the most pathetic kind of girl, yeah.”

“That’s not even what I was talking about. It’s the guys, Nicole. They get even creepier.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but nobody’s really given Ari any crap.” Nicole took another drag. “Not that I’ve been paying attention, but, you know, I’d have heard about her being dead or something.”

“That’s only because she’s dating, uh—dammit, what’s his name? Megan’s ex? Hunter?”

“Arthur.”

“Are you sure? I thought it was Hunter.”

“Jecka, I think I’d remember the name of the guy I strung along to get back at Megan for being an arrogant bitch,” said Nicole, not actually totally sure if his name was Arthur or not. “It’s Arthur.”

“Okay, well, either way, Ari’s not dealing with that because she’s dating Arthur. It’s social camouflage. She’s a gay chameleon who keeps cutting off her own tail.” Jecka pinched her brow. “Sometimes I forget that was your fault. And then I remember, and I think—I don’t know. I don’t even know, that was so fucked up, I just—”

“It’s not something I’d do again, okay? Get off my dick.” Nicole scrunched up. “Nobody’s extra creepy with me, either. Not that I’d notice, since a ten on the creep-o-meter isn’t really that different from eleven.”

“When does it go from ‘stares at you a lot’ to ‘actively stalking’?” asked Jecka. “What number does that roll over?”

“Two into three.”

“Jesus, Nicole.” Jecka grimaced. “What's a ‘one’?”

“Going out of your way to make it seem like you’re not staring.” Nicole took a drag. “If you’re waiting for a thesis with sources, I don’t have one and by the time I write it, one or both of us will be dead.”

“Okay, alright, I get it.” Jecka sized her up again. “Listen, they’ve been creepier, but a different kind of creepy.”

“Different how?”

“You were already a hot bitch, but now they think you’re bi and down for a threesome, Nicole. How have you not figured that out?”

“Probably because everything you just said doesn’t make any sense. I thought being bi was, like, temporary, right?” asked Nicole, honestly not knowing the answer to that. But what else would it be? “Between stuff?”

“I mean…” Jecka gave her the single most conflicted, scared, and confused look Nicole had seen in her entire life. Like she was dreading the answer but already knew what it was at the same time. “I don’t really know. Is Ari bi because she’s a lesbian dating a guy?”

“No, she’s a lesbian, duh.”

“Okay, but are you a lesbian—because you came out to me as one and then said you weren’t anymore, so, like…okay. Are you a lesbian?”

“Do I look like I’m dating Ari again?” Nicole rolled her eyes. “What’s the difference? Why do you care?”

“I ask myself that every single day.” Jecka sighed and waved her off with her cigarette. “Forget it. The more important thing to deal with is that people think you’d want to fuck them in a threesome or whatever.”

“Two dudes and me or two girls and them? Oh, wait, or three girls?” wondered aloud Nicole, exhaling smoke through her nose and actively struggling to imagine any of those things where she wasn’t either so high she was basically comatose or the one totally in absolute control. “If they’re guys and gross enough to think there’d be two girls who want to fuck them, at the same time, or at all, then, uh, no.”

“What about two guys?”

“Do they fuck each other, too?”

“I dunno. Maybe?”

“If they don’t, then no. If they do…” Nicole furrowed her brow and more deeply considered that. “I wouldn’t rule it out. But I’d probably just watch out of curiosity.”

“Okay, so you are bi and down for a threesome?”

“Thought that wasn’t real.”

“I said I didn’t know! Not that—whatever, threesomes are like—why am I even asking this?”

“Only you know the answer to that, Jecka. Guess you’re running out of material,” grumbled Nicole. “I just don’t want to have to deal with gross dicks or rapists. Literally do not care about anything else.”

“Highest low bar there ever was.”

“Yeah.”

“I wish that was the worst of it,” sighed Jecka. “Sometimes, the guys everyone says are amazing are awful. Like, so bad that they should be banned from having sex ever again. Literally impossible to get better from practice because, duh, they already have a ton from everybody being lied to about how good they are at sex!”

“Girls probably only said they were awesome so they could lie to their friends about having awesome sex.” Nicole screwed up her face and Jecka did the same. “Wow, it’s a self-perpetuating cycle.”

“We are actually doing this to ourselves!” yelled Jecka. “Oh my God, how many dumb bitches ruined it for everyone else? I’m so pissed right now.”

“I’m pissed with you. In spirit.”

“No wonder nobody ever cares if you tell them ‘all he does is flop around like a dead fish’, or ‘he fingers like you're a pencil sharpener’! It’s all part of the conspiracy.” Jecka huffed. “Well, except for size. You can have the most disgusting dick in existence, but as long as it’s not tiny, you get a pass.”

“What the fuck—why?” Nicole gagged and almost choked on her cigarette. “Ugly penises don't get a pass!”

“They shouldn’t. They totally do.” Jecka gave her an odd look. “How do you not know about this?”

“I guess I must’ve missed the big ‘how to be a girl 101’ meeting on my twelfth birthday, Jecka,” snarled Nicole, her frown twisting her entire face. Always weird to discover what things could still rip rage and hatred out of her plushie toy fluff filled chest. “Maybe I just don’t want to be bent over here. Ever thought of that? Ever thought of just not engaging?”

“We were just talking about how nobody can really do that, Nicole!”

“Fuck off! I’m obviously trendsetting!”

“Okay! Okay, sorry. Sorry. Not like you’re missing anything good; that whole seminar was bullshit anyway.” Jecka held up her palm, smiling a teeny bit. She was sorry. She was actually super sorry. Nicole would’ve forgiven her even if she wasn’t. “You’re just not gonna take any dicks here. Probably for the best, honestly.”

“Now you get it.”

“Except Ari’s. I think? Right?”

“She used one, yeah.” Nicole paused for a second. “Most of the time it was me using it, when we did use it, but—yeah she did. She used one.”

“Then everyone except Ari.”

“That, uh…” Nicole had to roll that one over in her skull a few times before she could figure out how to respond to that, let alone think about it. Did that count? It was different, sure. Still sex. “Yeah, except Ari, I guess.”

“What's the ugliest penis you've ever seen?” segued Jecka, confusingly smoothly, despite the topic itself being awful. “Taking control of awkward conversations is like, half of being this hot, Nicole. So is reading minds as well as the room.”

“If you could read my mind, if you ever even tried, you’d kill yourself,” shot back Nicole, without thinking better of it. Or thinking at all. “If I could weaponize that, do a sort of forced reverse telepathy, I totally would.”

“You’re sounding more like a supervillain every day.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same thing?”

“I didn’t say that.” Jecka snorted. “I’d probably choose something a lot more subtle, though. Like, more precise manipulation, but kinda magic.” She hummed. “Sway you a little more towards an idea, make it an elegant form of mind control.”

“That sounds just straight up evil.” Nicole raised her brows. “Cool.”

“Yeah, and then I could ‘force’ you into talking about what’s actually in your head!” Jecka flashed her a wink and a smile. “And ideally it wouldn’t kill me.”

“Fine, whatever. Do you really want to know?”

“About what’s going on in your head? I mean, yeah, Nicole, kind of a lot, but you should probably talk to—”

“No!” yelled Nicole, like a coward. “Penises!”

“Oh, sure, okay. Yeah. Way more important.”

“The worst I’ve seen was—”

“Was it worse than Arthur’s?”

“Kind of. Not way worse. Definitely worse, though.”

“Shit, I was hoping you’d say no!”

“Tough titties.” Nicole instantly regretted the attempt she made to remember the sheer hundreds of penises she’d seen from the hordes of future rapists and pedophiles that had sent them to her. “Wow, I think I’m going to give myself an aneurysm just from flooding my brain with memories of dick pics.”

“Bad enough for you to jump?” asked Jecka, and it didn’t even sound close to a joke despite the effort. Trying to meet Nicole where she’s at is nice. A terrible idea, a really horrible one, but, yeah, nice. It was nice. A nice thing to do. “It’s not, right?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Then keep talking, bitch.”

“Wow, you are just so supportive, Jecka.” Nicole scoffed. “Okay. The single grossest one I can remember was—shit, can’t remember whose it was, but it was the kind that's uncircumcised, super veiny, and it looks like it got stuffed inside of itself like a bumpy sock. Five-inches, I think? That super weird length-to-width ratio where it’s, uh…”

“Where it’s somehow too long and too thin and too short and too fat all at the same time?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I’ve known their kind.” Jecka grimaced. “Grossest thing I’ve ever seen. And they feel even worse. They’re all—” She gagged. “Throbbing, and not in a hot way. Like it’s actually going to pop like a zit if you touch it wrong.”

“Thank you so much for traumatizing me with that imagery, Jecka.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaanytime,” sang Jecka, maybe off key? Maybe? Nicole had no idea. Still sounded good even if it was ‘wrong’. “Anywhere, and anything. I’ve got your back on this one.”

“You’ve got my back on disgusting penises? Can you not have my back?”

“No backsies for guarding your ass, Nicole. That’s just friendship, duh.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it is, but whatever.” Nicole sighed. “So, that thing, that dick, that gets a pass?”

“Uh, yeah. How the fuck do you think I know that it does?”

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Totally is.” Jecka chewed on her cheek and popped her lips. “There are breast implants, and butt implants—can you get a prettier dick?”

“No guy would go for that unless it also made it bigger. I swear, it’s like they have no awareness of how disgusting their bodies are!” Nicole rolled her eyes. “Oh, wait, no, they just don’t. My brother’s patient-fucking-zero for the new B-B-O epidemic.”

“Bring your own beer?” asked Jecka, snickering. “Ew, he probably drinks Natty Light, too. It’s so gross. Like drinking watered down piss.”

“Wouldn’t that be better than drinking piss?”

“How should I know? I’ve never drank piss before, Nicole, and I really don’t plan to start!”

“Then why did you—whatever, you’re thinking of B-Y-O-B, and yes, that’s all he ever buys. It’s why I say we never have booze to swipe.” Nicole sighed. “I said B-B-O.”

“Oh. Beyond body odor?”

“He reeks like a two month old corpse.”

“Yeah, I definitely remember what he smells like. I just—you stole that joke.”

“Who cares?! Probably some nazi asshole pedophile who said it.”

“Not even close.” Jecka giggled and took another drag. “That’s a Seinfeld joke.”

“Shit, then he’s probably not a nazi.” Nicole grimaced. “Is he a pedophile?”

“I think I remember my mom talking about how he used to date seventeen year olds in his thirties, so, yeah, he literally is.” Jecka sighed. “I guess nobody beautifies their cocks then…”

“Unless—oh!” Nicole’s eyes widened and she snapped her fingers. “Gay guys.”

“Oh my God, yeah! They’d know if their dicks were gross!” gaped Jecka, in absolute delight. “You’re totally right! Oh, and bi dudes—assuming that’s real, which, maybe? Yeah, absolutely. They’d know. They’d have to know!” She nodded a lot. “There’s no way any guy would have sex with another guy who’s dick was gross!”

“Okay, so if there is plastic surgery for penises, then the only people getting them are…”

“Bisexuals and gays.”

“Assuming that’s a thing.”

“Yeah. Assuming that’s a thing.”

“Yeah.” Nicole blinked and stared at Jecka for about thirty seconds. “Hey, so…”

“I think we’re thinking the same thing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, but you first.”

“Chicken.” Nicole took another drag. “So, bi girls are, like, a curious thing, right?”

“Okay, I think we’re approaching this very differently.” Jecka frowned. “You were about to ask if bisexual men were even real, right?”

“Yup.”

“Emily called them unicorns once and I’m thinking I get what she meant. I thought she was just super high.” Jeka chuckled. “Okay, she totally was, but I didn’t think she was going to say anything true.”

“I don’t think she knows how to lie if you get her high enough,” explained Nicole, entirely on hazy gut instinct. “Not about big stuff, at least.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. Good to know.” Jecka shrugged. “I kinda wanna fuck a bi guy now.”

“You might’ve done that already if he didn’t know he was bi.”

“Then I wanna fuck a bi guy who knows he’s bi, okay? Do you have to be so pedantic?”

“Yeah, I actually do. It’s a compulsion, even if that wasn’t what you took from this conversation.”

“What’s the problem? Pretty cock, probably not a rapist because they don’t have to fuck girls. Literally no downsides.”

“That seems way too simple, but, yeah, guess there aren’t.” Nicole killed what was left of her cigarette with the heel of her shoe. “You think people assume they want threesomes, too?”

“If anybody thought they existed outside of apparently fairytales, yeah, I think they would.” Jecka took one last drag before killing her cigarette on the heel of Nicole's shoe. “What? Yours are already burnt.”

“Bitch, do I look like an ashtray to you?” Nicole scuffed her shoes against the dirty concrete. “I kinda do look like one, don’t I?”

“You do. It’s in a hot way, though, so it’s cool.”

“That’s a first.” Nicole pushed off of the wall and didn’t need to fight the urge to jump. “The roof’s not bad.”

“Right? It’s been so quiet aside from your bullshit excuses for your meds.”

“Watch it.”

“Not necessary. So, same time, same place tomorrow?”

“Since you’re still going to be here for the fifth day in a row, yeah, I guess.” Nicole let Jecka stomp down into the stairwell in front of her on instinct, and felt that tiny pang of a memory of guilt again. “What period is it now?”

“What?” Jecka stopped at the bottom of the stairs and seemed to shake the cobwebs out of her brain. “Sorry, didn’t hear you.”

“I asked you if you knew what period it was.” Nicole joined her at the door and narrowed her eyes. “Oh my God—are you trying to figure out if Ryan Sheckler is bi? You’re totally doing that, aren’t you?”

“Uh, no.” Jecka tried to push the door despite it being a push a few times before getting the picture. “I already did. He absolutely is. There’s no way he isn’t.”

“Based on what?” Nicole slipped back into the hallway in front of her and re-locked the door once she’d joined her. “You’ve never even met him.”

“Based on ‘I want to marry him’ and ‘I deserve better than some straight dude with an ugly dick’,” answered Jecka, smiling with a level of smug that Nicole could absolutely tear down and destroy in two seconds. She could. Didn’t want to. Didn’t do it. “Don’t tell me I’m not hot enough to convince a guy to go full bi-curious, and then, y’know, beyond curious.”

“Yeah,” agreed Nicole, and that was actually a really easy thing to imagine. “You’re that hot.”

“Still need to prove it to everybody else, because I am going to be his Helen of Troy!”

“Did you take your meds?” asked Jecka, already frowning. “I really didn’t think I’d still be asking this.”

“Great. Give up.” Nicole scowled at her. “No, I didn’t sell more. Because you were just going to bitch at me about it again, so I figured it wasn’t worth the earful.”

“Well, that’s progress, I guess.” Jecka chewed on her cheek. She wasn’t smoking. Neither of them were. Nicole had been waiting for her to offer, but it hadn’t happened. “What if you just took one?”

“I said give up.”

“I normally would, but this is just so simple and it will literally bother me for life if I don’t win this.” Jecka crossed her arms and stood very, very tall. “Just the one. The tranq. Klonopin, or whatever.”

“No.”

“Nicole, you are driving up a wall. Try it for a week, or a month, or whatever, and if you hate it, I will never bring it up again.” Jecka raised her brows. “Okay? You already pop pills daily, stuff that’s similar, I don’t see what the fuck the difference is here!”

“I’m not choosing to take it! That’s the difference! And, you know, my mom—”

“We all have shitty moms! We all hate our moms, but even a broken bitch of a clock is right twice a day or a lifetime, Nicole!” Jecka threw up her hands. “Don’t even think of it as her trying to help you, just, I dunno, you won one over on her, okay?! Please just try the fucking meds!”

“Jesus, fine, if it’ll get you to shut up about it.” Nicole immediately popped one of them and swallowed. “There. Watch nothing happen for a week.”

“The label said take three.”

“I know. I’m not listening to instructions written by a quack who’s trying to get me that sedated.” Nicole shoved the bottle back in her pocket. “There’s really only one reason somebody wants me knocked out, Jecka.”

“Yeah, fine, right, I—” Jecka screwed up her face. “I thought you said the shrink was a woman.”

“It’s a private practice; there are men who work there, Jecka.” Nicole stiffened. “You’ll really drop this forever if nothing changes or whatever after a week?”

“I promised, so yeah, I will.” Jecka glared at her. “But if it does do something good, then you have to try the other one.”

“I did not agree to that.” Nicole swallowed and did not understand why she wasn’t fighting Jecka tooth and nail. “Fine. Whatever. We won’t even get that far—why do you even care?”

“You’re my bestie,” spat Jecka, and even then she sounded just sincere enough to move a little blood in Nicole’s all-but-stagnant veins. “Do I need another reason?”

“You take that title more seriously than literally everyone else. It’s just a thing people say, Jecka, and we’re not in middle school. Everybody walks away or leaves or dies eventually, so—” Nicole almost yelped when Jecka cut off everything else by shoving a cigarette in her mouth and lighting it. “Woah, okay, thanks?”

“I’m not just saying it, Nicole. I mean it.” Jecka lit her own. “And I know you mean it, too, so stop trying to lie to me. I’m sick and tired of it.” She took a very long drag, her eyes falling, and almost chuckled. “You want me around? That’s all of me, same as I get all of you.”

“Prove it,” challenged Nicole, taking a drag before realizing how stupid of a gamble that was. “Wait, no, goddamnit.”

“I’m still here and I’m still talking,” reminded Jecka. “I’m your bestie.”

“Yeah.” Nicole nodded, just a little. “You’re my bestie.”

“Damn right, so don’t you ever forget that.”

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

Adding less effective drugs as a daily routine wasn’t going to change that, no matter how confident Jecka was that this was remotely worth the effort. Not that Nicole actually knew whether or not that that was why her meds were being pushed so hard. Kind of assumed it.

Sure, she and Jecka were besties, which apparently held actual weight to Jecka, but did that actually mean she gave a shit if Nicole lived or died? Nicole cared if Jecka lived or died, yeah. Even the basic idea of her dying was incompatible with reality itself. It literally made no sense.

How would that even happen unless Nicole did it herself? Or was the cause of it? It wouldn’t. That, and the day Nicole opened her phone to find no texts or calls from Jecka was the day she woke up in her own personal hell.

Jecka wasn’t going to die. She didn’t even want to die. So, she wouldn’t.

“Did you take your meds?” asked Jecka, again, unfolding a lawn chair on the roof and setting it down. “You were so good at taking them over the weekend, so don’t lie and say you quit already. Do you need me to take them with you? I swear to God, if you sold them again after agreeing to what was, in hindsight, a way too generous deal, I’m going to lose it.”

“Didn’t take them.” Nicole kicked open her slightly shittier lawn chair and placed it down beside Jecka’s. “Didn’t sell anything, either.”

“When are you going to take them?” Jecka sighed and plopped down in her chair. “Is it now? It should be now if it isn’t now. You should take them. Right now.”

“Later,” deflected Nicole, grumbling as she tried and failed to actually get that comfortable in her own shitty lawn chair. “Should’ve spent another four dollars so my ass isn’t on top of a plastic rod.”

“Later when?”

“Later when I get to it,” hissed Nicole. “I said I’d do it. I’ll do it.”

“Yet to be proven.”

“Can you let me chill before I drug myself into that, please?” Nicole rolled her eyes. “Is that really too much to ask?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Jecka shrugged. “I don’t actually know why you’d need that, but if you want to push it off more, hey, sure, it’ll give me more chances to keep asking.”

“Oh my God.” Nicole groaned. “Change of topic, how long do you think I could trick somebody into believing that we’ve known each other for ten years before they catch on?” she asked, digging that one up from the back of her brain. “Because I’m thinking a week, but I’m hoping a month.”

“Probably closer to two weeks depending on who you tried that with,” said Jecka, yawning and lounging in the slightly-less shitty lawn chair she’d brought from home. “You could push it closer to a semester, or even a year, if you chose one of the more desperate guys.”

“Yeah, except then I’d have to spend time with them.” Nicole rested her chin in her hand and blew a raspberry. “I think this was funnier in my head than it would be in practice.”

“Why would you even try to do that, though?” asked Jecka. “What’s the endgame goal?”

“I dunno.” Nicole shrugged. “Fuck with people on new and never before seen levels? Bum as much cash off of them as possible? Do it just to do it, y’know?”

“You can’t say you’re trying to rob them and then ‘it’s for the love of the game’ in the same thought.” Jecka sat up and gave her an odd look. “They’re not the same thing.”

“I don’t really see the difference. Stealing’s an engaging hobby appropriate for all ages. Why shouldn’t it be fun?”

“It’s stealing, Nicole. That’s not an actual hobby. It’s not jogging or reading or fucking knitting!” Jecka grimaced. “Oh my God, are you still shoplifting?”

“Duh. I didn’t get a payout from getting shot, Jecka. Nothing even went to court.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “I tried to rip the mall off, and the cops tried to rip my leg off, so since I can't scam the police, FYE is going to need to pay for damages. With installments. Until I’m dead.”

“Are…” Jecka paled and her eyes widened. Shit, what did she say? “Are you trying to commit suicide by cop?”

“No, Jecka, I just don’t believe I should have to pay fifteen-ninety-nine for a Metric album from the place that shot me.”

“Then go to a different store—you listen to Metric?”

“I would, but I don’t have a car.” Nicole shrugged, blowing right past that follow-up question. “Everywhere else is too far or too much of a pain in the ass to take the bus. It’s like not going somewhere else makes it less likely that I’ll get shot again, anyway.”

“Please don’t tell me more about statistics that I won’t be able to unlearn,” grumbled Jecka. “It’s not good for my health to be this stressed.”

“Run out of xanax?”

“Xanax doesn’t kill anxiety or fear, Nicole. It just smothers it.”

“It does if you take enough.”

“Yeah, and then it knocks you out.” Jecka crossed her leg over the other and frowned at her. “We need to at least make it look like we can function day-to-day.”

“Not really. Can’t think of a single time that’s ever been true. I’d literally kill somebody to not have to do things in general.”

“Your meds would probably help with that.”

“Shut up.”

“No, don’t, this was getting fun,” said Emily, stepping over the still-broken door on the ground and shielding her eyes from the sudden and direct blast of sunlight pointed directly at the roof access. “Woah, are you two trying to get a natural tan in January? Cool. I’m in.”

“These aren’t tanning beds, Emily. They’re lawn chairs,” said Nicole, her eyes slowly shifting from Emily to Jecka’s pensive look. “More importantly, how loose are your lips, Jecka? Does everyone know the roof’s open?”

“I just said we found a cool new spot to hide while skipping,” defended Jecka. “I didn’t say where. You probably just forgot to lock the door.”

“No, she locked it. It’s just really easy to pick.” Emily stretched her arms over her head and stood next to Nicole. “Jecka’s been trying to make the roof a thing since Freshman year, so it was either this, or the sub-basement where all those guys died in that fire ten years ago.”

“The roof wasn’t my idea,” grumbled Jecka, crossing her arms. “You never heard that from me, Emily.”

“Then who’d I hear it from?”

Jecka averted her eyes, frowning.

“I didn’t hear it from the ghosts of all of those dead guys,” said Emily. “Seriously, if not you, then—”

“Back off, Emily.” Jecka glared at her and, for some reason, Emily actually listened. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I gotcha.” Emily cleared her throat. “There was a fire, though. Killed like, a hundred guys.”

“That sounds like one of the most underwhelming suburban legends ever. Hundred guys die in a fire. Never spoken of again, not even in hushed whispers. Yeah, because they were all so important and—” Nicole raised her brows as Emily sat down on the armrest of the chair. “Hey, careful, I already told you they’re lawn chairs. They’re not exactly designed to hold two people, especially not on parts that fold, like the sides.”

“Dude, it’s fine. Look at me—no, look at how skinny I am,” said Emily, somehow…not actually even making the lawn chair creak at all. It was almost like she literally weighed nothing. “See? We’re good.”

“Are we good? That’s really hot, and all, but you’re like—I’m kinda concerned—” Jecka swallowed as Nicole gave a very tiny, and severe, shake of her head. “About the war in Iraq.”

“There’s a war in Iraq?” asked Emily, absently adjusting her hair. “Oh, yeah, actually I think I remember hearing a few things about that. That’s the one about 9/11, right?”

“Wow, okay, there is actually no answer to that question,” whistled Nicole, raising her brows up at Emily, who just kind of…looked at her. With that same vacant-expectant devotion-y energy. Thing. “Very messy.”

Why was Emily always like this? Just waiting for Nicole to do something. Probably should be concerning. Wasn’t, but should be.

“Messy how?”

“It’s—” Nicole slammed her mouth shut. Talk down to her and die, because that is the only thing you one-hundred percent remember from remedial. “It’s an uncomfortable topic. Jecka’s cousin’s boyfriend is a P.O.W.”

“Cool. That’s really cool,” said Emily, turning to Jecka, who just sort of sat there and blinked. “What’s your cousin like?”

“Stationed on a submarine under the arctic,” answered Jecka, without so much as a twitch. “She’s fifty.”

“Cool.” Emily shifted. “When’s she make port?”

“2029.”

“Cool, that’s cool. Where’s she gonna be?”

“Antarctica.”

“Yeah. That’s cool.” Emily hummed. “She sounds hot.”

“You sound like every guy we’ve ever met,” whispered Nicole. “Just letting you know that, in case that isn’t what you’re going for.”

“Shit, I do, don’t I?” Emily chewed on her cheeks and sighed. “Sorry. I got really caught up in the idea of—”

“Stealing my cousin from her boyfriend while he’s deployed overseas, yeah, we got it,” grumbled Jecka. “Are you into blowing up relationships? Is that your thing now?”

“Uh, it already was, thanks for noticing, I just took a break from it after I ran out of boyfriends to steal. Kinda felt like it'd be fun to mess around with now that I can steal girlfriends.” Emily smiled. “That’s not too weird, right?”

“I, uh…” Jecka furrowed her brow. “No?”

“Definitely not weird,” said Nicole, smirking and resting her head on her fist. “It’s pretty hot. You should do that to as many people as possible as fast as you can.”

“Nicole, making a race out of serial cheating sounds like one of the dumbest and quickest ways to get murdered.”

“I’m not the one doing it! I’m nowhere near badass to pull that off.” Nicole patted Emily on the back. “You, however—”

“Don’t talk to me like you know me until you actually do,” scowled Emily, and the sound of it made both Nicole and Jecka jump in their chairs. “I don’t care how cool of a bitch you are, Nicole. You play with my heart like that and I will cut out those beautiful eyes and choke you with them.”

“Gotcha. Won’t try that, won’t do that ever again.” Nicole sat up straight and nodded. “I do still think it’s badass.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it is.” Emily’s face stopped being actually alarming. “You know what? I remember why I stopped. And, like, not because everyone got pissed at me stealing their boyfriends. It's just way more of a college thing for me to do.”

Why was fear from shit Emily said and did something that still came so easily when almost everything else was just…not even there? If a guy said the same thing, Nicole would just shrug it off as ‘surprise of the century’ and go about her day. Not with Emily. Demanded full focus and attention. And fear. Fucking confusing.

“You’re going to college?” asked Jecka. “Where?”

“PGCC for two years—if I want more than an Associate’s degree I can always transfer to something better.” Emily shrugged. “I thought about being a drifter or couch surfing until I’m forty, but, like, the magic’s kind of already wearing thin, you know?”

“I totally know,” enabled Nicole. She didn’t even know why she kept trying to push Emily into trashier fathoms anymore. She just kept doing it, and rarely was it actually entertaining enough to justify the energy she put in. Fifty-fifty it blew up in her face and scared the shit out of her and Jecka. “How can you be the baddest bitch there is if you don’t even have a crib to call your own?”

“Trying way too hard,” mumbled Jecka, shooting Nicole a look. “Emily, yeah, you should get a place for yourself! That way, you can, like, have total control over furniture and who gets to stay with you. And what food there is in the fridge.”

“Very underrated advantage of having full control is also having full control over what you get to eat,” added Nicole. “That, and nobody gets to mess with the thermostat but you.”

“Oh my God, that’s so true, I need my own place now. My mom always keeps the house five degrees too cold.”

“Yeah, she wants to live in a morgue. She knows freezing halfway to death doesn’t actually slow down aging, right?”

“Do you think they make split-levels without walls?” asked Emily. “If I have to live in one more house that has walls, I’m going to burn it and the entire neighborhood around it down.”

“What about glass walls?” suggested Nicole, to ideally avert potential future arson. “They’re, y’know, almost invisible. Next best thing to having no limits.”

“I love that idea.” Emily hummed and twirled her hair between her fingers, her eyes so distant yet present. “I could hang curtains around the bedroom and the bathroom and my neighbors would get so worked up just imagining the kind of stuff going on behind them…”

“That’s definitely something you can do if you own your own place.”

“You could also have microphones everywhere and hook them up to external speakers so they could hear everything they can’t see.” Jecka waved her arms a little at Nicole while Emily was distracted, scowling, frowning, and generally spazzing out in concern. Fair. Yeah, totally fair. “It’d be way cheaper to get a regular house with regular walls, though.”

“True.” Emily nodded. “I can work my way up to something that kickass once I’ve earned it.”

“Doing what?” Nicole raised a brow. “No, seriously, doing what? What’s your career path? I am so curious.”

“Too sober for that conversation.” Emily dug into her pockets and produced a ziploc of—oh shit, wow, ecstasy. “I’ll trip alone, but that’s not as fun with E.”

“It’s nine-thirty in the morning,” reminded Jecka. “I think it’s a little early to get fucked up on ecstasy at school.”

“Yeah, if you take too much and wander off, you might make out with some dude who totally doesn’t deserve you,” stressed Nicole, with an amount of urgency that confused the shit out of her. “The roof is for being mellow, anyway. Not for potential orgies.”

“It’s pretty filthy up here, yeah—think the floor itself could give me herpes.” Emily put the bag away. “Okay, what’ve you got for mellow? Perc? Xanax?”

“Even better.” Nicole flicked her wrist and presented a prescription bottle of clonazepam from, essentially, her sleeve. “Freshly baked anxiety meds. Directly targeted to chill.”

“How’d you afford that?” Emily grinned. “That is the real shit.”

“Five bucks with insurance, bitch.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Jecka snatched the bottle and quickly read every single inch of it. What a weird thing to—wait, was she playing along? Why was she doing that? “When were you planning on taking these, Nicole? Why do you even have these?”

“Psychiatric counseling.” Nicole shrugged, still having no idea what Jecka’s play was, but sure, why not, make it less embarrassing and weird in front of Emily. Which Nicole cared so much about despite not knowing why. “It turns out if you try and traumatize enough therapists, social workers, psychologists, and psychiatrists in a row, they just start writing scrips to get you to stop.”

“Or maybe you just need these?” Jecka made an awkward smile. “Because you’re like always edging on fight-or-flight, and, you got sh—”

“We all need a way to relax, Jecka, you’re right.”

“I know I am, and there’s no way that was the only thing they gave you,” grumbled Jecka, tossing her the bottle back. “It says to take three once a day, so if we all split it up, then they’ll—” She paused, meeting Nicole’s eyes. Shit. Shit, you clever bitch! “We’ll get more mileage.”

“You’re smart.” Emily leaned over and closer to Jecka. “You’re really pretty, too.”

“Thanks. You’re gorgeous, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still nine-thirty in the morning and we’re still on the roof of the school.”

“Too smart is lame.” Emily held out her hand. “Well?”

“First hit is free.” Nicole relented and untwisted the childproof cap. Sharing felt like less of a total failure, so she divided the dose she did not take that morning among the three of them. “Alright, so—” She frowned because they had both already swallowed it. “Rude.” She popped her own. “Chalky.”

“It’s an adult prescription, Nicole,” said Jecka. “It’s not like a kid’s where it’ll taste like grapes or whatever.”

“We should have snorted them.” Emily shifted closer to Nicole, and it was, uh, well, it was Emily, so that was always going to be a lot. Good? Bad? No idea. A lot of something. “How long until they start to work?”

“I think maybe half an hour?” Nicole shrugged. “What, do you have a time limit on skipping?”

“No, just curious.” Emily looked at her way more intensely than she did a second ago, and Jecka’s head peeked out from behind her with wide eyes. “Wanna make out while we wait?”

“That’s, uh…” Nicole did not visibly react to Jecka mouthing ‘what the fuck’ behind Emily. Did Nicole want to do that? No idea. Only more questions, but she also didn’t have a reason to say no, so—oh, duh. Right, Emily’s a girl. Non-issue. “That’s gonna work both of us up so much, y’know? And it’s still before ten on this really disgusting roof.”

“Fair.” Emily backed off and looked at Jecka over her shoulder. “Jecka—”

“Same answer, sorry. I get super into it,” answered Jecka, smiling and waving her hands in front of her. “Thank you, though! Really flattered and that’s sooooo sweet.”

“I was going to ask if you had like a broom or something, but okay, whatever.” Emily sighed and slouched. “Man, the roof sucks for fucking.”

“Is…” Jecka wrinkled her nose. “Is it supposed to be good?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s outdoors and secluded.”

“It’s the roof of a public building and you picked the lock to the door.”

“Look, I thought there was a decent chance that I’d walk up here and you two would just be mauling each other, and I could join without anyone blinking,” said Emily, and that was extremely specific and impossible not to visualize. But probably not the version Emily meant to imply, though, then again, it was Emily. Maybe she did imagine a lot of actual violence. “Who’s the real victim here?”

“Nobody, because we’re all relaxing on the roof,” redirected Nicole, partially. Barely. Okay, kind of not that much at all. “How, uh, how decent of a chance did you—”

“Seventy. Closer to eighty-percent, actually.” Emily cracked her neck. “It’s totally not an if with you guys; just a matter of when. Not like it’d go anywhere, though.”

“Why would you even add that—whatever.” Jecka settled her hands in her lap. “I’m just gonna say something, and I kinda need to say it, so, yeah.”

“Okay.” Nicole nodded. “Say it.”

“Floor’s yours, gross as it is,” agreed Emily.

“What the fuck kind of rainbow bullshit did you dating Ari unleash here?” asked Jecka, throwing up her hands. “I’m serious, no—shut up! I’m serious! One day, everyone’s straight! The next—”

“Oh my God, someone finally said it.” Nicole sighed. “Yeah, and then a whole bunch of girls claw out of the walls and are suddenly bi-curious or gay for a day or whatever.”

“I know, what the hell? Did Ari break some sort of seal or something?!”

“Well…” Emily rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah.”

“Yeah? What does ‘yeah’ mean, what is that? What’s ‘yeah’?”

“She broke the seal.” Emily shrugged. “It took a lot of courage for Ari to just be her, even if she’s about as pathetic as they come, and a lot of girls didn’t think they could be y’know, that, until they saw her do it.” She smiled. “If Ari can be out, a wet noodle dunked in kool-aid, then anybody can do it. Like me.”

“Aren’t you still dating that guy in his twenties?” asked Nicole. “Don’t tell me you’re another lesbian who doesn’t even try to go out with girls. One’s already too many.”

“Oh, is it?” Jecka glared at her. “Is it, Nicole?”

“Shut up, I know, okay?”

“I mean, we’re kinda still together, but, like, it’s mostly because he can get me stuff, and he’s actually really cute and has a pretty cock, so it’s super easy to imagine he’s a girl when we have sex.” Emily popped her lips. There was just so much to unpack in that single sentence that Nicole gave up before she even started to try. “And, like, sometimes I get fucked up enough that I forget I’m super gay, and stuff happens, you know?”

“I think that means you’re not gay, Emily,” said Jecka. “Like, that’s fine, you don’t have to be.”

“No, I’m gay. I know I’m gay. I’m totally gay.” Emily paused. “I think? Having sex with guys is just, like, a really old and bad habit? I’ll get over it eventually.”

“If I were as gay as you think you are, Emily, I’d think it was the worst habit.”

“Yeah, totally. But you’re not.”

“What is with you and—”

“I broke the seal,” interjected Nicole, raising her hand because she was such a slut for taking credit on accomplishments of significant value—fuck, why didn’t you keep your mouth shut? Emily is going to see right through that and why do you know that she will? “I’m the one who outed her to Crispin. This was allll me.”

“You are so dumb,” whispered Jecka, burying her face in her hands. “So dumb.”

“You outed her?” Emily glared at her, down past her nose. “To Crispin? Fucking Crispin?”

“Yeah, that’s what outing means, right? When you encourage somebody to come out?” asked Nicole, as convincingly as possible so she didn’t get her heart ripped out of her chest. Really need to stop instinctively pushing the envelope with Emily. Couldn’t help it. Can’t. Don’t? Won’t? Maybe? “Outing them? Right? Came out to her so she could come out? Outing them?”

“Nicole, that’s not what it means. Don’t ever say that again.” Emily stopped glaring. “Good job, though. I thought you were just the girl to make the whole thing loud because of all the arson, but damn. I guess you really did break the seal.”

“You are so horrible,” whispered Jecka. “You are the devil.”

“I am the best at what I do, thank you.” Nicole forced a smirk, and it almost worked. At least, she thought it did. “What’s in the water here, though, that makes this many girls suddenly super into trying shit with other girls? How is that even possible?”

“Maybe because girls are pretty?” suggested Jecka. “And guys aren’t?

“Some guys are,” said Emily. "Not a lot. A few. Five or six percent.”

“Are you super into math now or something?” asked Nicole. “What’s with all the statistics today?”

“It was two numbers. That’s not weird.”

“It’s a little unusual, but I guess it’s not, uh…” Jecka blinked and paused. “Woah.” She exhaled and shimmied in her seat, a small smile growing on her lips. “I totally forgot we took klonopin. Wow. I like it!”

“It has not been thirty minutes,” countered Nicole, slouching. “Wow, even the pharmacists are liars.”

“It’s…damn.” Emily stretched her arms above her head again and smiled. “Even better than I remember it. It’s like every reality of life just doesn’t seem so horrible anymore.”

“Oh, wait…” Nicole actually felt it start to work, instead of hitting her all at once, or creeping on slow. Wasn’t like she snorted it. More natural, like it was supposed to do what it was doing. Half the shit she was worrying about didn’t—huh. She didn’t even realize she was worrying about that much stuff, but that easing of pressure from the screeching static she’d long forgotten was even there was…not bad. “Weird.”

“There’s no way you’re not feeling this.” Jecka sighed wistfully and smiled, her eyes closing. “It’s like a hug and a warm cookie and a brain massage—this is nice.”

“It’s been way too long since I’ve had one of these.” Emily beamed. “I wish I had anxiety so I could feel like this all the time.”

“If you had anxiety, wouldn’t you just feel like you normally do if you took these?”

“Yeah, I’d have to take way more, true. Guess It’s just cheaper and more convenient to not have anxiety.”

“I dunno about convenience, but it would be five bucks cheaper.” Nicole felt a very different kind of numbness. Wait. Holy shit, she felt numb, except not. That was an improvement. Sort of. “All of the nasty shit is still there but it’s all, like, it’s not as imminent. The edge isn’t gone, but it’s like, dulled, a little?”

“It’s hitting me way more than you,” said Jecka, chuckling. “So, I think you actually do need the full dose to get here.”

“Quit pushing it.”

“Make me.”

“How are you even this—” Nicole blinked. “Alert. Hey, so am I.”

“Yeah, your brain’s still completely on,” said Emily. “That’s how these work unless you take too much. Just really chill.”

“Okay, I totally get why this shit is regulated. It’s actually perfect.”

Jecka shot her a hard look.

“This proves nothing,” mumbled Nicole. “It’s just a shittier version of xanax.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Nicole, Jecka, and Emily returned to the roof the next day under the understanding that Nicole would be again sharing her meds. Jecka did not look happy about it, but she didn’t look as pissed about it, either. They both kinda won, and they both kinda lost—wait, no only Jecka lost. Nicole was still winning. At being miserable.

And wanting to die.

What a shitty thing to win. If only she cared. Honestly, she almost did.

Almost.

“Do you just not own a lawn chair?” asked Nicole, since Emily had once again chosen to sit on the arm of hers instead of bringing literally anything. “You’ve gotta have folding ones somewhere.”

“Oh, I have some super nice ones. They’ve got cushions and they recline, very snazzy. But that’s not as fun as sharing one with you, Nicole,” preened Emily, smiling ear to ear. “Why, do you want me to stop?”

“No, it’s cool. Was just curious.” Nicole ran a hand through her hair. “So—”

“Drugs,” interjected Jecka, as harsh as someone could be from a lawn chair. “Drugs, Nicole. Stop stalling.”

“I’m not stalling. I was about to offer.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Whatever.” Nicole handed out the same dosage of pills, one per person, but noticed that she still had two in her hand while Emily and Jecka popped theirs. Did Jecka steal one and slip it into her palm while—Jesus, okay. “Wow. That was slick enough to just accept it.”

Jecka crossed her arms and nodded sagely.

“Accept what?” asked Emily. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing.” Nicole swallowed both pills. “Jecka’s just being a bestie, I guess.”

“You guess?” stressed Jecka, jaw twitching. “Or you know?”

“I know, okay? I know!”

“It’s an important job,” agreed Emily, in a way that was both surprising and somehow not. “She’s gonna fuck it up, though.”

“No, I won’t!” snapped Jecka. “You almost got her killed so—God, whatever.”

“You’re probably just going to kill each other, anyway,” interjected Ari, rubbing her hands as she stepped over the fallen door, her jacket just a little too snug in the chilly morning. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi?” Nicole shifted in her chair, looking around Emily as Megan followed Ari out onto the roof, too. “Hello? What the shit is this, Jecka?”

“Not me. I only talked to Emily,” said Jecka. “Thanks a lot, Emily.”

“The roof’s badass, Jecka,” said Emily. “Embrace it.”

“No.”

“We’d have figured it out pretty quick, anyway,” said Ari. “Jecka’s been trying to make the roof a thing since—”

“That wasn’t me,” snipped Jecka, through clenched teeth. “Maybe you heard it from one of the hundreds of dead ghosts who died in that fire?”

“Right. Must’ve—” Ari’s eyes fell for a second or two. What the fuck was going on with the roof idea? “Must’ve, uh…”

“Forgot?”

“Y—yeah.”

“That’s a weird series of ways to say ‘hello, Megan’,” said Megan, loudly redirecting the conversation with a sense of urgency and purpose Nicole thought only existed when she was in the director’s chair. “Are none of you seriously even going to be the bare minimum of polite?”

“I said ‘hello’, bitch,” grumbled Nicole, slouching. “We only have two chairs and neither of you are as freakishly light as Emily.” She eyed Ari. “Even if one of you is pretty close—wait, Emily didn’t promise you an orgy, did she?”

“She did. On the off chance she was right, I kinda wanted to see what that would even look like with you three. Who would kill or eat the other first?” Ari, after a bit of hesitation, sat down on Jecka’s armrest, much to Jecka’s frustration. The chair did creak, but it stayed upright. “I’ll try not to move too much.”

“I guess I’ll just stand.” Megan crossed her arms and stood between them. “The roof is disgusting.”

“It used to be quiet,” sighed Jecka. “So now it has nothing going for it.”

“Hey…” Nicole craned her neck and sat up, looking at Jecka, then Ari, then Megan, and then Emily. “What’s that painting where Jesus has that big breakfast with a bunch of people?”

“The Last Supper,” answered Megan and Jecka.

“Yeah, that. We’re kinda doing that.”

“Oh, because the Catholic girl is standing in the center?” Megan scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You would be Judas, Nicole.”

“Yeah, you’re sitting in the same relative spot,” snickered Emily. “That’d make me Peter, though, right, Megan?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then John?”

“Just—just shut up!

“Whatever. Ari. Yesterday we were talking about how like half the girls in school are bi-curious now,” redirected Emily, those eyes landing on Ari. “Why do you think that is? Is it just because you did it, or is it because girls are pretty, or, what?”

“I mean. Girls are pretty,” agreed Ari. “But I really don't think that this is on me. What does this—why are you asking me?”

“Emily, she’s a lesbian,” reminded Nicole. “She probably thinks all girls are pretty.”

“No way it’s that simple,” said Emily. “There's gotta be more to it.”

“Me being a lesbian doesn’t actually change whether or not girls are pretty,” said Ari, rolling her eyes. “Okay, if I had to try and explain why I think a bunch of girls suddenly decided, or figured out, or felt like they should experiment—”

“You are not an expert on lesbians,” scoffed Nicole. “Don’t try that bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” Ari glared at her. “What part of reality made you believe that you could just cut me off like we’re dating, Nicole? Do you need to be actively strangling me before you remember what you did to me?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” said Nicole. “Okay, it would hurt—strangling you?”

“Not like I’m going to be strangling you, Nicole!”

“I’m just gonna sprint right past that; which thing are we talking about?”

“Which?! You treated me like a pet you couldn’t wait to put down—”

“Bitch, you asked me to do that. In specifically those words.”

“—led a bunch of homophobic arsonists to my house, and then dumped me!” Ari scowled at her. ”Oh my God, there are literally three things. Dumping me, okay?”

“You were about to dump me. I just talk faster.”

“No, I—I was thinking about it, but maybe I wouldn’t have!”

“How is dumping you worse than accidentally goading a bunch of jackasses into setting your house on fire and treating you like shit?”

“Because you could’ve cooled the fuck off after my house burned down, Nicole. Obviously, you can’t stop an angry mob, but you can not dump me ten seconds later, and then not treat me like shit!”

“I managed to avoid talking about this for months, and now it's back on the table, awesome. Can't you just—”

“Will you just let her talk?!” snapped Megan. “There are more important things to discuss than this crap!”

“Yeah, fine.” Nicole waved her off. “Taaaaalk.”

“About—” Ari sighed. “Oh, right, Girls. Okay, well, the reason girls are—” She frowned. “No, why am I even entertaining this?”

“Because a pretty girl asked you for your opinion,” said Emily, flipping her hair. Nicole wished she could laugh at that. All she could manage was an empty smirk. “Or am I not?”

“Wow, she’s got you there,” whistled Jecka. “Is Emily pretty enough to get an answer? I say yes.”

“That is not fair—ugh, fine,” grumbled Ari. “My best guess is probably because, yeah, girls put in the effort. Guys kinda don’t.” She shrugged. “If every guy tried to make themselves look really hot, don’t you think at least some of them would feel like they’d want to give another guy a chance?”

“I think it’s probably mostly that stuff, and the rest is…” Megan frowned, because she was still awkwardly standing between both chairs. “Guys are horrible about this kind of thing. Like, you can kinda smell the weird apathy for girls, since I don’t think they’re taking it seriously, aside from ‘oh cool, two girls making out’. It’s like a sideshow for them.”

“Why are you saying that like you aren’t thinking the same thing?” asked Emily. “Isn’t bigotry a thing you have to do when you’re as religious as you are?”

“Of course not! It’s kind of the norm, but it’s not required.”

“Wow. You sound so nice,” snickered Emily. “I don’t have to be a homophobe!”

“I’m not! I never have been!”

“Cool, good for you, Megan. Barely breaking the mold. Hope you’re super proud of yourself.” Nicole scoffed. “Meanwhile, the guys who are ballsy enough to willingly suck dick get beaten to death. Once again, proving that all men are monsters, stalkers, rapists, and pedophiles in the making.”

“Nicole, that only supported ‘monsters’,” said Jecka. “It’s not even the same kind of monster you talk about. It’s just violent and rampant homophobia.”

“Oh, yeah, just that.” Nicole looked at Ari, and then at Megan. Then Ari again. Megan. “Since when are you two friendly at all? Aren’t you dating her ex?”

“You mean the ex-boyfriend you created when you ruined my freaking play?” asked Megan. “That ex-boyfriend, Nicole? Hunter?”

“Who the fuck is Hunter?” asked Nicole, exchanging a look with Jecka. “Oh my God, did I talk up the wrong guy for months—no, then I couldn’t have ruined your play. Seriously, who is Hunter?”

“You did all of that and you can’t even remember his name?!”

“I told you it was Hunter.” whispered Jecka. “I knew it.”

“It’s Hunter, but, yeah, he is pretty forgettable,” said Ari. “Arthur’s a better name, anyway.”

“I feel like I’m going insane,” chuckled Megan. “Who’s Arthur?! There is no Arthur! You ruined my freaking play!”

“How are you still mad about that?” groaned Nicole. “Bitch, I did you a favor.”

“How?! You ruined my freaking play!”

“If you actually say ‘fuck’, I’d probably take you more seriously.”

“You ruined my fucking play!”

“Wow, nevermind, that did not help. Is that the only thing you can say, though? Look, you saw his dick, Megan. Did you forget it was beyond disgusting?”

“Second grossest one I’ve ever seen,” added Jecka.

“It really is that bad. You dodged a—” Ari hissed after Jecka pinched her stomach. “Something really nasty, Megan. Pretty much the whole reason I dumped him. There’s being realistic about life, and then there’s dealing with that.”

“Whatever. I wasn’t going to sleep with him, anyway.” Megan shrugged. “I thought he was more devout than he apparently was. Imagine thinking that confession means you can just do whatever you want without consequences!”

“That is what it means,” said Emily, snickering. “That’s like, the whole point, right?”

“Fuck off, Emily,” spat Megan. “You made it super clear a long time ago that you wouldn’t know faith if it bit you in—”

“My perfect ass?”

“Fuck off!”

“Let’s not ruin the roof party, okay?” Nicole pointed between Ari and Megan several times. “What’s this? Friends? Dating? Answer.”

Ari just shrugged while Megan fought a blush.

“Self-righteous tantrums, being forced to call her ‘Ms. Megan’, and arrogant pedestal-humping do it that much for you, Ari?” asked Nicole. “Is it all of the self-flagellation, too, or do you just like getting treated like biblical shit?”

“Megan doesn’t screw with my head, Nicole. Megan actually likes me.” Ari frowned. “And she’s really cute when she gets mad, not that you care.”

“I do not throw tantrums!” snapped Megan, stomping her foot. “I have perfectly reasonable reactions to stuff that pisses me off!”

“You’re throwing one now, bitch, and I guess you two do have at least one thing in common,” said Jecka, sticking her tongue out at Nicole. “Or is it two?”

“We actually have a lot in common,” mumbled Megan, cooling off in half a second. “Ari’s just really cool, okay?”

“Is one of the things that I kind of destroyed both of your lives?” asked Nicole. “Because if you’re fucking each other silly out of spite to get back at me, hey, I respect and support it.”

“The new house isn’t as homey as the old one, but it is bigger,” admitted Ari. “Every time I go home I smell smoke, so I'm still dealing with that.”

“That’s…part of it—nope, that’s not any of your business,” said Megan. “What are you guys even doing up here? Aside from skipping?”

“Waiting for klonopin to kick in,” said Emily. “Nicole got an actual scrip by terrorizing a shrink.”

“That stuff is weird.” Ari narrowed her eyes at Nicole. “You guys know it doesn’t really work like xanax does, right? This isn’t going to feel the same.”

“Yeah, we know. Did some yesterday. It’s awesome,” said Nicole, extremely aware of Jecka glaring at her out of the corner of her eye. “All out of freebies, though.”

“That’s okay. It’s not even ten.” Ari snorted. “I also really don’t want anything from you ever again.”

“Probably the smarter choice, yeah.” Nicole scratched her cheek. “So, then why’d you come up here?”

“Because as much as I fucking hate you, Nicole, this is the best possible place to hide while skipping.”

“Fair.” Nicole continued to talk and she had no clue why. Questions and concepts just pushed up against the back of her teeth, and she wasn’t fast enough to chomp down to stop them. “You’re apparently an expert on sexuality, aren’t you, Ari?”

“You were the one who said she wasn’t,” sighed Jecka. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, no? Not even a little?” Ari shook her head. “Nicole, I barely understand what—”

“Can you only go from straight to gay?” asked Nicole. “Or can you stop off at bi?”

“You cannot just ask that!” protested Megan. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“That is a super personal question,” said Ari, eyes widening. “Really, Nicole?”

“Is it more or less personal than my head between your legs for an hour and a half?” countered Nicole, her face going slack. “Feel like it’s way less.”

“Rookie numbers.” Emily high-fived her. “Still hot, though.”

“You know it.” Nicole did not, in fact, know it. Had she done more with Emily? “Totally.”

“That is—that is a long time.” Jecka chuckled awkwardly. “How does that not break your tongue?”

“I got really sore the first few times, but if you take it slow you can go super long and—”

“Nicole!” snapped Ari. “Fuck, fine. I didn’t ‘stop’ at bi. I realized I was a lesbian. No middle part.”

“Probably shouldn’t even be called a middle, if you think about it,” grumbled Jecka. “If you think about it for two seconds.”

“I have thought about it. How else would you even describe that?”

Jecka shrugged and didn’t respond.

“Right, well…” Nicole cleared her throat. “Ari, can that happen, though?”

“I…think so? My cousin—the one from West Virginia—he’s gay but he’s dating a girl now.” Ari screwed up her face. “He might be bi?”

“Okay, but that’s what you did and you’re not bi.”

“Yeah, I remember, except he wasn’t terrorized and abused into doing it. He just likes her. I think.”

“So, he’s just bi now or always was bi?”

“I have no idea, Nicole. I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

“Because that is a really weird question to ask!”

“So, you can skip over it, and then hop back?” asked Jecka. “Sounds less and less like a ‘middle’ to me.”

“What's the difference?” asked Ari. “Seriously, who cares?”

“Nobody, I guess. Absolutely nobody. Just, lots of weird and unusual and surprising shit going around.”

“I don’t think that’s all that unusual or surprising,” said Megan. ”This stuff is complicated.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” disagreed Nicole, shaking her head and lounging more in the lawn chair. “It’s just sort of all there or not there or whatever. Kinda hard to care about.” She sat up straight once she realized that what she’d said was definitely super weird. “I mean, you know, hard to care about it being complicated when it shouldn’t be.”

“Yeah, pretty simple, actually,” said Emily. “Girls see other girls making out, they start to think ‘hey, I should get in on that’, which is when I get in on them.” She grinned. “The girls who like it figure their shit out, same with the girls who don’t. Either way, I get laid like crazy.”

“Wow, okay, uh—holy shit, wow.” Jecka cleared her throat and blushed from head to toe. “Is that even good, though, since nobody has any idea what they’re doing, right?”

“Why would I keep doing it if it sucked, Jecka? I’m not that much of a masochist.”

“Yes, you are,” said Nicole, instantly, half-remembering…something. Dammit. Already gone. “You totally are.”

“Not for lame sex.”

Jecka fumed silently in her slightly less shitty lawn chair.

“I don’t think healthy experimentation is supposed to be about gratifying one person’s libido, Emily,” said Ari, her face flattening. “Even if you are probably actually helping a lot of people in a really selfish way.”

“The ones who like it move into that ever-growing pool for you to date, Ari,” teased Emily. “You’re welcome.”

“I really fucking hate how right you are about this.”

“Why?” asked Megan. “What’s even the downside here?”

“The downside is that I’m too much of a hopelessly romantic bitch to have thought of it myself.”

“Jealousy. Gotcha.” Megan rolled her eyes. “Super attractive.”

“Oh, like you’re not?” snipped Ari. “Don’t even try to lie.”

“I just got here!” Megan frowned and threw out her hands. “And, honestly, I don’t even know if I am here, so—”

“Girls, girls, girls!” boomed Nicole, clapping her hands together and getting them to stop. “Don’t ruin the roof party.” She lounged back in her chair and cleared her throat. “None of this fucking matters, anyway. This school’s so up-its-ass-liberal that Emily could openly advertise this shit on a poster plastered on half the hallways, and nobody could stop her because that’d be homophobic and censoring freedom of expression.”

“Better than being in a place that wants to stone you to death for not being straight, Nicole,” stressed Jecka. “This is stupid, but it’s not, like, the bad kind of stupid.”

“I should make posters,” hummed Emily. “I’d be a literal poster child for girls feeling themselves out.”

“That sounds so gross when you put it like that,” winced Jecka. “Can we not talk about this anymore? Please?”

“You would change the topic.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means we should change the topic so we don’t ruin the roof party.” Nicole held up a finger. “I have a new one. Got another question for the full peanut gallery, if you’re up for it.”

“Is it about me again?” grumbled Ari. “I’m not up for another one of those.”

“Not everything is about you, Ari. This one’s about me.”

“Yeah, and not everything is about you, Nicole.”

“Beg to differ.” Nicole shrugged. “So?”

“Just ask the question, Nicole,” said Jecka. “Keep it moving before some of us start to kill each other. Or make out? I kinda can’t tell.”

“None of your business,” said Megan, at the same time that Ari said “Make out and then almost kill me.”

“Cool, very progressive, you have our support, so shut up. What's it called when…” Nicole chewed on her lip and decided to let her mouth take over completely. Because she was a really, really, really dumb bitch. “You don't wanna get fucked and only want ever be the one doing the fucking?”

“That’d be you,” chuckled Ari. “That’s just you, Nicole.”

“No, I mean, what's the word for that?” Nicole shot Ari a brief glare. “That's a thing, right?”

“I’ve got nothing,” said Megan. “Sorry.”

“Sounds kind of familiar,” said Emily, shifting on the armrest. “I don’t think I’ve heard any specific name for it, though.”

“Oh, uhm, I think I have? Maybe.” Jecka blushed. “I think it’s—hey, can I just whisper it to you and not say it loud?”

“Okay, now you have to tell the rest of the class,” insisted Nicole. “C’mon, Jecka. What’ve you got for us?”

“Nothing good.” Jecka sighed. “I think it’s called… ‘dommy mommy’.”

“Oh my God, what the fuck, Jecka?!”

“This is amazing,” giggled Emily.

“Bitch, don't yell at me!” snapped Jecka, her face reddening. “It’s not my fault that’s what it’s called!”

“Why do you even know that term?” asked Megan. “How do you even come across that on accident?”

“You have got to start using the internet more,” said Ari, pinching her brow. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“I know, but it’s a little difficult when we only have one computer in the house, okay? It’s in the kitchen.”

“Wow, that’s actually inhumane,” said Jecka. “That’s not just cruel and unusual punishment—it’s fucking bizarre.”

“What the hell? You can’t be poor, religious, and white north of the Mason-Dixon; that’s not how that shit works,” scoffed Nicole. “You’re lying, Megan.”

“We’re not poor!” groaned Megan. “My dad just won’t buy a second computer so we don’t get corrupted by pornography, which I’m pretty fucking sure all of you just proved is an actual problem to be concerned about!”

“RedTube is not why I know what ‘dommy mommy’ is, okay? I really wish it was, but it’s not.” Jecka massaged her temples. “My dad calls my mom that all the time, and they use the fucking diswasher to clean their ‘toys’. He’s the one bending over, and that is obviously what their deal is.”

“Holy shit, your mom pegs your dad?!”

“So, you know that but not ‘dommy mommy’?” mumbled Ari.

“Every other night,” sighed Jecka. “I’m in hell.”

“Damn, Jecka,” chuckled Emily, into an uneven laugh, her face lighting up. “That’s super hot.”

“No, it isn’t! They’re my parents!” yelled Jecka. “It’s disgusting!”

“To you, yeah, but they’re not my parents.”

“How thin are your walls?” asked Ari, wincing. “Or are they just that loud…?”

“Why are you asking?” stressed Megan. “Ignorance is bliss!”

“Says the devout Catholic,” snipped Emily.

“Yeah! I do say—Emily, we went to the same Catholic school!”

“And?”

“Fuck you.”

“Sure, bitch, when and where?”

“Fuck—fucking, fuck off!”

“You are just the best class president, Megan,” said Nicole. “I can’t believe I didn’t vote for you.”

“You didn’t vote at all.”

“Duh, voting doesn’t make a difference.”

“Yes, it does—Nicole, Obama got inaugurated like three weeks ago!” Jecka rolled her eyes. “Whatever, we got asbestos taken out of our walls over the summer,” she explained. “Apparently, whoever was supposed to do that like a hundred years ago or something ripped off the government and half the buildings in town still have it.”

“That’s actually just super evil,” said Megan, her composure re-appearing like a lightswitch. “Asbestos poisoning is no joke.”

“That’s such bullshit!” snapped Nicole “I don’t wanna die in my sleep like some dumb bitch who’s never heard of Jimmy Hendrix!”

“Jimmy Hendrix?” asked Jecka. “What does—”

“We can’t be friends if you’re the dumb bitch who’s going to—”

“I know who he is! What the fuck does he have to do with—” Jecka perked up. “Ohhhhhhh, right, he choked on his own vomit in his sleep.”

“Lamest way to go out,” said Emily. “Like a real, actual bitch.”

“Totally. Yeah.” Jecka pouted and crossed her arms. “Anyway, there's just no sound proofing in my parent’s house now. It's been an adjustment.”

“You need to move out,” concluded Ari. “Yesterday.”

“Only one-hundred seventy more days to go.” Jecka’s eye snapped to Nicole. “You're probably not a ‘dommy mommy’.”

“Stop it.” Nicole grimaced. “Please stop saying it.”

“Okay, okay!” Jecka huffed and leaned back in her chair. “It’s not like you gave me much to go on, Nicole.”

“You’re right, I was super vague.” Nicole scratched the back of her head. “Give me a minute, I need to think about how to word this…”

“Bitch, when have you ever needed a minute?”

“Yeah, you got me. So, it's, uh, it’s like…” Nicole raised her brows. “Wow, I actually do need a minute.”

“Should we leave?” asked Megan. “Do you want us to leave?”

“It’s cool,” assured Jecka. “It’s a roof party.”

“I think I’ve got it.” Nicole rested her arms on her legs, her eyes flicking from Jecka, to Emily, to Ari, and then to Megan. “Are we ready?”

“Unless it’s related to necrophilia, you’re amping this up way too much,” scoffed Ari. “It’s not like I don’t already know what this is about.”

“I never talked about this with you. This never came up.”

“What the hell—why not?”

“Because I want to stab people in the kidney and watch them slowly die in my arms, okay?” snapped Nicole, her jaw tensing. “That’s why.”

“Yeah? Not gonna happen, because I’ll stab you first, bitch.”

“Holy shit,” whispered Jecka. “That’s a lot to throw in the air, Nicole.”

“Woah.” Emily bit her lip. “You’re even more of a freak than I remember.”

“Wait, you remember anything at all?” Nicole screwed up her face at Emily. “I’ve got nothing but static from those two weeks of remedial.”

“Same, but I just imagined enough stuff to fill in the blanks.” Emily shrugged. “Basically the same thing as remembering.”

“It’s really not,” mumbled Ari, paling. “Like, not even a little.”

“Did we have sex?” asked Nicole. “I think we did, but I really can’t remember like anything.”

“Yeah,” said Emily. “We did.”

“How much?”

“Honestly, since we kinda didn’t sleep for, you know, weeks, it was sorta one realllllllllllllly long night.”

“Cool.”

“It totally was.”

Nicole, once again, got roped into skipping on the roof, which apparently meant that she and Jecka were only alone in those lawn chairs for about a minute before Emily showed up. Which was fine, honestly, since it was Emily. Never a bad thing to see her again.

Even if she kept staring at Nicole like she was waiting for something. Don’t ask. Don’t bother. It’ll get worse if you do, and you know it. Not that you know why you even know that in the first place—ugh, shut up, it was Emily.

Emily was cool.

Nothing else to it.

What wasn’t cool was that it took about another minute before Ari and Megan came back. Not even invited to the private party. Guess it wasn’t so bad yesterday. Which was super weird, since Nicole didn’t think Ari or Megan were any less annoying than she did the day before.

After that, Nicole half expected the entire school to walk through that door Jecka had kicked down, but they didn’t.

Nobody did.

“Oh no, nuh uh, if you want to get everybody else high today, you’re not half-assing this anymore” Jecka grabbed the bottle of klonopin out of Nicole’s hands before she could even open it. “All three.”

“You are not charge of how I fuck myself up, Jecka.” Nicole didn’t bother reaching past Emily since she’d have to also get past Ari, and brushing up against her would probably result in some super gross chain reaction of whatever. “Unless you’re trying to be my mom, but she doesn’t do that either. Oh, are you my replacement dad, now, because he—”

“Stop trying to gross me out and listen.” Jecka shook the pill bottle in front of her, and it was sorta entertaining to see everyone else’s eyes bounce right along with it as they watched her do that. “I am trying to get you more high.”

“Spare some to share?” asked Ari, very directly at Jecka and not Nicole. “Since you’re in charge now, and all.”

“Damn right I’m in charge! Nobody else seems to have half a brain up here but me on how to get anything done, so yeah, me, I’m in charge.” Jecka rolled her eyes as Ari and Megan flinched. Weird. Why would—oh, Emily. “And if you want some, it’s not gonna be cheap.”

“Dude, just charge a ten for one so we can actually chill before we get caught,” suggested Emily, not even blinking or twitching despite Jecka having just called her an idiot. Huh. That was weird. “Time’s money, and you are a terrible dealer. It’s embarrassing.”

“Yeah, like there’s such a thing as a good dealer,” scoffed Megan. “I’d pay ten, though.”

“Am I getting a cut here?” asked Nicole, raising a brow at Jecka. “I better be.”

“I didn’t think that far ahead,” admitted Jecka, looking down at the bottle as Emily started to snicker. “Okay, fine, you’re right, I’m not good at this. It’s not like I’ve ever done it before.”

“See, that look on your face is something to charge admission for,” said Emily, taking the bottle away and quickly making an exchange of cash and drugs so naturally that she looked like she was the world’s greatest schmoozer. “Yeah, thirty bucks, real hard to get.”

“Rather pay you than her,” said Ari, popping her pill along with Jecka. “So, do—” She turned to stare at Megan, baffled, as she got out a water bottle and used it to take the klonopin. “Wow.”

“I wasn’t raised in a barn, or without running water,” defended Megan. “This better be good. It looked good yesterday.”

“Since when do you do drugs at all?” asked Nicole as Emily returned her pill bottle. And none of the money. Whatever, fine. “Or are you trying to impress Ari?”

Megan blushed and crossed her arms, twitching a lot.

“You don’t have to do that,” assured Ari. “But I do like that you did.”

“Cool, super healthy.” Emily pointed to the bottle in Nicole’s hands. “Okay, eat up. Three, not two.”

“Why are you helping me?” asked Jecka, screwing up her face. “You never help me.”

“I’m helping her. Not you.”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Nicole shook her head. “Two’s enough, Emily.”

“What’s the problem?” Emily shrugged. “Two felt good, so three will be even better.”

“You know…” Nicole mulled that over and hummed, lounging a little. It would make Ari and Megan easier to deal with, much like every other drug basically did. Except those weren’t prescription, so it was her choice, and not somebody else’s. Then again, it wasn’t like Emily would be wrong twice. “I can’t argue with logic that perfect.”

“Wow, so you’ll listen to Emily, but not me?” Jecka frowned. “Seriously?”

“Apparently.” Nicole dry swallowed three and pocketed the bottle. “Are we done now?”

“No.”

“Great, so glad we are.”

“Hey! Nicole, why do you have to—”

“Okay, Megan kept me up all night texting about that weird stabbing sex thing you trailed off on yesterday,” interjected Ari, glaring down at Nicole. “What was that about? What did that even mean? It never came up for us, so, what the hell?”

“Why do you even care?” asked Nicole. “Not your business anymore.”

“I care because I want to sleep again.”

“Yeah, can you clarify that one?” asked Megan. “I literally can’t stop thinking about it and the imagery is seared into my brain. Can you stab people while having sex and have that count as sex, or is that just murder?”

“It’s only murder if they die, Megan,” scoffed Nicole. “If you really want to talk about it—well, we’re not gonna.”

“What? Why not?!”

“Because you want me too.”

“Yeah, too bad.” Jecka smirked. “You’re probably better off, anyway. There’s no way that wasn’t going to be super horrifying.”

“And super hot and tragic,” agreed Emily, technically, smiling and nodding at Nicole. “C’mon. Extra personal, I'm following. Keep going.”

“Well…” Nicole felt so compelled to listen to Emily that it is sort of happened. Again. “Yeah, fine, it might be fun to find out who’s actually squeamish.”

“On second thought, Jecka’s right, We should leave,” announced Ari, half a second before Jecka grabbed her and held her on the chair, making it wobble. “Hey, what the fuck, Jecka?! Let go!”

“You do not get to leave when we can’t, Ari!” Jecka glared at Megan. “Don’t even try to run.”

“Jecka’s right.” Nicole made her eyes go dead and glared at Megan, too. “Don’t.”

“Woah, okay—holy crap okay. Did this to myself.” Megan held up her palms. “I’m your hostage, okay? Jesus Christ!”

“Careful, Megan,” said Emily. “Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in—”

“Says the slut who breathes lechery!”

“You’re not a hostage.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “It'd just be really shitty if you left the party before the cake.”

“If you get into a rant about food, you’re going to get hungry, and then your metaphors are going to get mixed,” said Jecka. “Just keep talking, Nicole.”

“Oh, good catch.” Nicole took a breath. “Okay, there was, uhm…” It took her a second to remember where she was on that topic. “It’s not just that I want to stab them. I want to really hold them there, their blood soaked on my hands, so it’s kinda, like slippery?”

“If I have to listen to this, you can stop groping me,” hissed Ari, smacking Jecka’s hands away. “Back off.”

“You wish I was, bitch,” snipped Jecka. “I’m way out of your league.”

“Hey! Stay on task; you wanted this.” Nicole snapped her fingers above her head, redirecting attention. And her own brain’s attention, since Jecka hadn’t done it yet already. Was she about to? “Stab. Slippery. So, I have to actively try, put in the effort, to hold them up.” She furrowed her brow and stared down at her hands, struggling to imagine the blood on them. “It gets harder and harder as the seconds click by, too.”

“Yeah, what else?” asked Emily, that smirk growing even wider, her pupils dilating. “C’mon. What’s next?”

“I want to stare at them as the light leaves their eyes, so they know it was me, and I could totally help them, but I don’t, because fuck you, you deserve to die like this,” finished Nicole, before sitting up and tilting her head. “Oh. Wow, okay, so I guess it was murder. Weird.”

“Who, uh, who do you get that feeling about?” asked Jecka, her eyes super wide, her posture perfect. “Anyone here? At any point?”

“It’s a constant battle to restrain myself every time somebody asks me out on a date,” answered Nicole. “Or when I'm on a date. Or just hanging out with a guy who isn't gay.”

“Never with girls?”

“I don’t want to stab you, Jecka.”

“I’m not the person I’m concerned about, Nicole. What about other girls?”

“I kinda wanted to stab Ari when we were dating.” Nicole glanced at Ari, who rolled her eyes. “Not in the kidney, though, now that I think about it.”

“That doesn’t count,” grumbled Ari. “I asked you—”

“Cutting isn’t stabbing,” interjected Emily, with so much oddly familiar pride. “She’s talking about stabbing.”

“So, I guess you didn’t hate me on a technicality, Nicole? Awesome.”

“I mean…” Nicole shrugged and mimed a scale. “Kinda?”

“Yeah, so awesome.”

“Can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

“Honestly, neither can I.”

“Eye or neck?” asked Megan. “Or throat?”

“Why are you helping?” snapped Ari. “Seriously?”

“I asked, I want my money’s worth. I’m just curious, chill out.”

“Heart,” answered Nicole. “Definitely the heart.”

“Hell yeah,” said Emily. “Cut that bitch’s out.”

“I’m right here,” bemoaned Ari.

“With your heart and chest intact,” said Nicole. “You’re fine.”

“Your definition of ‘fine’ is everyone else’s living nightmare, Nicole.”

“Are you just now realizing that? How is yours any better?”

“I don’t advertise every fetish I have on a billboard.”

“This isn’t a billboard, it’s one conversation, and you are not one to talk! And—”

“Nicole, that doesn’t matter. Focus. Okay, so not with girls.” redirected Jecka. “You don’t wanna stab girls in the kidney and watch them bleed out. Right?”

“I don’t want to generalize too much.” Nicole hummed and rested her chin in her hand. “I’m sure it’s a matter of time before I meet the perfectly agonizing young lady who fits the bill.”

“Great, super healthy thought,” said Megan. “Can’t wait to see that on the news.”

“You don’t even watch the news,” snipped Jecka. “Probably just watch sermons and infomercials all weekend.”

“Keep talking like that, Megan, and it just might be your shitty yearbook photo they show on Sixty Minutes,” chirped Nicole, forcing a smile. “You should know very well what I’m capable of.”

“Nicole, you’ve traumatized her enough,” sighed Jecka. “What if the guy you’re hanging out with—”

“We’re still talking about this?”

“Bitch, you brought it up!”

“No, that was Megan. Or, Ari, sorta.”

“You originally brought it up.”

“Okay, fine.” Nicole held up her palms. “Go ahead.”

“Can we leave now?” asked Ari. “Please?”

“No!” snapped Nicole and Jecka, jerking their heads towards her and Megan in unison. “Stop asking!”

“I fucking hate the roof,” sighed Megan.

“You’d love it if I fucked you on it,” offered Emily, smirking at her.

“Are you actually trying to have sex with me, or are you just messing with me?”

“Uhhhh…” Emily tilted her head. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“The guy you’re hanging out with.” Jecka narrowed her eyes at Nicole. “What if he's gay but you don't know he's gay?”

“How would that ever happen? Gay guys can't even hide from their own asses.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “Every other scandal on TV is either a priest fucking little boys or some politician in some ‘all gays must die’ country getting caught in a thirty-five man gangbang.”

“It's just a hypothetical, Nicole. Answer the question.”

“Why do you even care this much?” Nicole raised a brow. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I'm invested in this now and you need to deal with it.” Jecka slammed her fist down into the armrest Ari wasn’t sitting on, rattling the chair. “Talk!”

“Okay, okay. Then, huh.” Nicole rubbed the back of her neck. “That's a hard one.”

“Duh, that’s why I want to know.”

“Yeah, if he knew he was gay but I didn't know he was gay, would I still want to stab him?” wondered aloud Nicole, leaning back. “That’s—damn.”

“Asking the real questions of our generation,” hummed Emily. “You go, Nicole.”

“I totally do!”

“What the hell?” Jecka frowned. “That was my question.”

“She kinda did ask it better,” added Ari. ”Sorry, Jecka.”

“I know she did, but it’s still my question!”

“It’s a really good question, though,” said Nicole. “An amazing question.”

“Awww, thank you!” Jecka smiled. “Eat shit.”

“Ohhhhhhhh, no. Nope.” Nicole leaned forward and pointed at her. “Eat my shit.

“Eat mine!”

“That’d cancel out, right?”

“Yeah, except for the part where we both literally ate shit.”

“I think you could get Jeffery and Kylar to do that,” suggested Megan. “Probably.”

“To each other?” asked Jecka. “No one’s that desperate and stupid—wait, nevermind, they totally are.”

“Fuck it, yeah, why not?” Nicole shrugged. “Let’s see if they—”

“Backburner, Nicole!” redirected Jecka, again. Why was she so focused about this one? Was it really that interesting? “If you knew he was gay, and he didn’t!”

“Okay, if he knew but I didn't…” Nicole hummed. “I'd still want to stab him.”

“But what if he didn't know?” asked Emily. “That’s way more common.”

“Probably wouldn't want to stab him.” Nicole shook her head. “Except I'd need to know he was even if he didn't.”

“Jesus.” Jecka sat up straight. “Then the secret formula for your ideal guy is a deeply closeted gay man that’s still just obvious enough for you to pick up on it so you can always have that leverage if you need it.”

“Wow.” Ari whistled. “That fits you way too well.”

“Wouldn’t that just be Kylar?” Emily snickered. “Go for it, Nicole. Second time’s the charm.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” said Nicole. “He’s dumber than the bag of rocks you beat dumbasses with. That, and he keeps bragging about being a rapist.”

“He actually is, though,” added Megan. “Jenny Fillmore and her family moved to Philly.”

“You still keep in touch?” asked Ari. “I thought she hated you.”

“She joined a church youth group in Springfield; you just kinda know everybody when you’re in those.”

“Is she okay?”

“Would you be okay? No!”

“Great.” Emily adjusted her hair. “More of you. That’s what we all need. More Jesus bitches.”

“You’re just bitter because you lost Jesus.”

Emily sputtered into a laugh so loud, clutching her belly, that she almost fell off of Nicole’s lawn chair.

“Why were we talking about whoever that is again?” asked Nicole.

“Because Kylar raped her,” reminded Jecka. “And he’s extremely in the closet and—”

“Right! Well, if the guy wasn't that dumb, and not a pre-established self-congratulatory rapist, then this all sounds perfect to me.” Nicole stopped, thought about that more, and then chewed on her cheek. “No, wait, that doesn't sound right.”

“Shocked you even noticed,” mumbled Jecka.

“I’d still have to date them. And, like, go on dates. Which are the worst fucking thing ever.”

“They’re not that bad; depends on what you’re doing.” Megan set her hands on her hips. “Okay, this really wasn’t worth it.”

“Live with it, Megan—keep up or get left in the dust,” said Emily, those super intense eyes landing on Nicole again. “Never met anyone cool who likes dates.”

“Well, yeah, but the actual…” Nicole decided to be very careful with her wording. For some reason. Not that she had to keep talking except she already was. “Maybe not so cool thing is that I…” No backing out, since she’d absolutely screwed up her careful wording. Not that it mattered. Should it? Yeah, back out whoops still talking fuck. “Kinda don't hate sex, but also do?”

“Bitch, you inflected that question mark so hard that I'm getting a contact high from how much bullshit hot air you just spat out,” countered Jecka.

“Damn, Jecka.” Ari smirked into a smile. “Nice.”

“Very nice,” agreed Emily.

“I just kept talking and it happened!” chirped Jecka, smiling ear to ear and bouncing in her chair. “That was awesome!”

“Write that one down and use it on someone who can actually cry,” suggested Nicole, pointing to her bag at her feet. “So, anyone except me.”

“Sure.” Jecka wrote a bunch of shit down and shoved her—wait, was that a diary? Whatever, it was back in her bag. “That one’s for a super rainy day.”

“So, do you hate sex?” asked Emily. “Or do you not? Asking for a friend to see if you're a liar.”

“I hate, uh…” Nicole shrugged, because thankfully she kind of didn’t know for sure. Okay, she did but, she also didn’t feel like getting literally fucked to death by Emily. Which sounded fun, and that made everything more confusing. “I’m—there’s no easy answer here.”

“You hate getting fucked,” said Ari. “News to me.”

“It’s not like I was trying to lie to either of you about this shit.”

“Whatever.” Ari crossed her arms. “You do want to fuck people? That part was at least real?”

“I mean, fucking people over sounds more appealing most of the time, but I think so?”

“You think? Can you think a little harder? What’s that even mean?”

“It means I think I do! It means I’m not sure, you ass!” Nicole waved her off and scrunched up. “Forget it. Forget all of this. This was fucking stupid.”

“Nope. Too late. Not stupid.” Jecka shook her head and leaned closer to Nicole. “How do you want to fuck them?”

“Jecka, it doesn’t matter.”

“I am invested, so how?”

“Yeah, like, with what?” asked Emily. “Positions? Things you want to say?”

“Dude, I don’t know—I really don’t think about this stuff.” Nicole shrugged. “I guess, uh. Whatever’s easy or on hand or kinda interesting? Honestly, literally anything as long as I’m in control and they can’t tell me to stop.”

“Oh.” Emily slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“You have said literally everything is hot—what the fuck was wrong with that?”

“Nicole, this is the second time you’ve basically talked about wanting to rape people without realizing it,” explained Jecka, while Ari and Megan leaned away and grimaced. “I’m getting kinda scared.”

“Fuck!” Nicole threw up her hands. “They can tell me to stop.”

“Would you actually stop if they told you to?” asked Megan. “Be honest.”

“I mean—yeah?” Nicole scowled at Megan, because it was not her fault she hesitated! “Yeah. I’d stop! I’d stop. I would!”

“Whatever, not like you’ll ever get caught,” said Emily. “Everybody knows that girls can’t rape other girls or even guys.”

“Yeah, for once rampant misogyny works in our favor.” Nicole exhaled and nodded. “Had to happen sooner or later.”

“Nicole, I was being bitter and facetious.” Emily stared down at her, past her nose. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Are you serious? Since when do you use words like ‘facetious'?”

“Since yesterday when I heard you use it. I liked how it sounded.”

“Oh my God, Nicole, don’t rape people just because you can get away with it!” yelled Jecka. “This isn’t difficult!”

“I wasn’t going to!” defended Nicole.

“I do not believe you,” grumbled Jecka. “Literally anything, though? You just have to be in charge?”

“I think so.” Nicole forgot to shut herself the fuck up resulting in her brain shoving stuff out of her mouth that wasn’t ever there before so what was this why was it happening. “I kinda wish I had a dick—shit!”

“Nicole, everyone wishes they had a dick.” Jecka snorted and smiled, a bit uneasy. “That's not revolutionary.”

“Everybody? Really?”

“Yeah,” agreed Emily. “Every time I've had one in me, and when I'm horny. So, like almost literally constantly.”

“Emily, no offense, but we’re going to need more testimonials than just yours for this,” countered Nicole. “You’re anything but average.”

“None taken,” said Emily. “I know I’m too cool for statistics.”

“So, you do have a math thing now?”

“I’ll give you a math thing if you keep asking that.”

“I’ll give you both some math things, I swear to God,” grumbled Jecka. “Ari? What about you?”

“Every so often, but nowhere near as often as Emily,” added Ari. “It’d be handy, I guess.”

“I’m not entirely opposed to it. Maybe once a week.” Megan shrugged. “I’d probably think about it more if I wasn’t abstinent.”

“You are just an Olympian at being lame, Megan,” snorted Nicole. “It’s almost cute.”

“Fuck off!” Megan flipped her off. “I don’t judge you for your religious beliefs!”

“How can you judge somebody for something that doesn’t exist?”

“Suck my temporarily present dick, Nicole.”

“Get in line to suck mine,” countered Nicole, managing to shut herself up before she made this so much worse on herself. She was so positive everyone would want to instinctively keep it. Guess she was wrong. Keep it to yourself. “Doesn’t count as sex if it’s with another girl; not even blowjobs.”

“You cannot be taking Clinton's side on that,” sighed Jecka. “That's so dumb.”

“Yeah, but for this, he's kinda right. Definitely heard of it before.” Emily stared at Megan again. “Girls are free game for abstinence. I dunno about trannies, but what Nicole is saying makes a lot of sense, so I’m sold.”

“There’s no way that’s true.” Megan gave Ari an uneasy look. “Right?”

“You’re the bible thumper, Megan.” Ari shrugged. “I was kinda counting on you knowing that.”

“What—but—how is that even possible?”

“You should go test that hypothesis, Megan,” suggested Emily. “See how many times you can get laid until you lose your faith in God. If it’s only one, I’ll eat your ass.”

“Wow, okay, no. Gross!”

“Cool, then you’ll need to have sex at least twice.” Emily flashed Ari a wink. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks.” Ari glared at her. “Don’t help me ever again.”

“Yeah, scientific method that shit, Megan!” whooped Jecka. “Get some!”

“You are all this close to getting slammed with a thousand fucking referrals!” snapped Megan. “I can still do that, you know!”

“How? We’re not in drama class,” snickered Emily. “And wouldn’t that take, like, forever to do? Just the one is five minutes or something.”

“They used to take five minutes before I made templates.” Megan smirked. “Beat that, bitches!”

“Beat doing more work?” Jecka sputtered into a laugh. “Yeah! Okay. Done!”

“Megan, you are so hot right now, but you really can’t win here,” said Ari. “If you want, we can—”

“Hey, no getting distracted by Megan’s way less interesting crap! What kind of dick would you want?” Nicole held up her palms and waved them around. “That’s the other half of the question, right?”

“Would we get to choose the size?” asked Ari. “We should totally get to choose.”

“I don’t want one unless I’m super hung and it’s gorgeous,” said Jecka. “Otherwise, like, what’s the point?”

“Totally.” Emily gave Nicole a knowing look. Wait, was she thinking the same thing? How the hell did she know? “That’s a tricky one; if it’s too big, all of my cute pants won’t fit anymore.”

“Yeah, even if it was small—” Megan rubbed her chin. “You’d have to wear men’s shorts and probably boxer briefs. Swim trunks, too.” She paused, in surprisingly deep thought. “What is average?”

“Not your ex,” scoffed Ari. “And not Crispin.”

“Eugh, don’t remind me of either—oh, and like you’ve ever worn a bikini, Megan” snorted Jecka. “Which, yeah, that’d stuck not wearing those. They’re cute. You couldn’t even do a one piece without a really obvious teeeeeeeeeeent, woah.” She exhaled and shimmied in her seat, a small smile growing on her lips. “Theeeeeere it is, finally. There’s the klonopin.”

“Mhmm, a modern classic.” Emily whistled and giggled. “I could really get used to this. I could get hooked on this.”

“It’s kinda nice,” admitted Megan. “I don’t hate it.”

“I could find inner peace if I had a lifetime supply,” chuckled Ari. “That is nice.”

“It’s still doing basically nothing for me,” grumbled Nicole, lying almost completely, ignoring Jecka shooting her a look. It was. It really was. Same as the other days, but more. “Shocker.”

“Okay, being high with you lunatics is where I’m drawing the line; kinda done with the roof,” said Ari, standing from Jecka’s lawn chair. “Thanks for the weirdest talks I’ve ever had, I guess. The roof is…” She sighed, glancing at Jecka. “The roof’s something.”

“Seems pretty great to me.” Jecka nodded and waved. “See you guys later.”

“Yeah, see yah.” Megan didn’t even bother to wait for Ari and was already halfway down the stairwell. “Ari, come on! Before they change their minds and threaten to murder us again!”

“I know.” Ari stopped at the door frame, standing on the fallen door itself, and looked back at Nicole. “Hey.”

“What?” Nicole crossed her arms and raised a brow. “What is it now, Ari?”

“Kinda meant to say this yesterday, but your meds really work, so, yeah. You have so much shit to work through that I don’t hate you as much.” Ari stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. “I mostly just feel bad for you. Okay, well, I do still hate you, but I feel better about me.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah. It is good for me.” Ari smirked. “Roof’s not bad.”

“Well, yeah, we’re here so—” Nicole felt Jecka staring at her. Why was she even considering this? Never in a million years would she ever—ugh, just do it so Jecka gets pissed at you less. “Ari, wait.”

“Yeah?”

“I…” Nicole clenched her teeth for a few seconds. Just say it. You don’t even have to mean it, even if that’d make it easier to sell. What if you did mean it? What if you meant it without ever knowing you’d intended to mean it? “So…”

“Yes?”

“There’s—well, there’s—” Nicole continued to fight herself, and honestly lost track as to why she was trying so hard to win. What was the point? Who was this even for? Ari? Herself? Both? Jecka? All of them? Not like doing the ‘right’ thing’ ever fucking mattered before, so it’s not like it’ll ever start. “I was thinking, just the other day, that—”

“Nicole!” Jecka kicked her lawn chair from hers, not even rattling Emily at all. “I swear to fucking God, if you don’t—”

“I’m sorry!” blurted Nicole, finally, feeling just as nothing and dogshit as she did two seconds ago. But Jecka stopped glaring at her, so that was kinda worth the effort. Almost chipped a tooth from gritting her teeth so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Ari’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Emily raised her brows. “Wow.”

“Yeah, yeah, wow,” grumbled Nicole. “Wow.”

“For the house or for dumping me?” asked Ari.

“Ari, come on, don’t be that bitch right now.”

“Oh, Nicole.” Ari tsked. “Your ex is always going to be that bitch right now.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m actually so much that bitch right now, that I think you should apologize for how you treated me, too.”

“You fucking asked me to treat you like shit! How is it my fault that you didn’t make whatever insane fetishy boundaries you have super clear?!”

“I didn’t have a chance to, Nicole.” Ari scowled. “All you did was treat me more and more and more like garbage without any actual time to breathe.”

“You really did,” whispered Jecka, shrugging as Nicole shot her a look. “I am not taking your side here. That’s what you did.”

“Since when do you care, Jecka?” hissed Ari. “You sure didn't at the time.”

“Doesn't matter. Sounds more like she just couldn’t handle you, Nicole,” said Emily, not even looking at Ari. “Wonder if anybody else really can.”

“God, you are just almost as bad as she is, Emily,” scoffed Ari. “Or is that on purpose? Who’s emulating who at this point?”

“Fucking fine!” snapped Nicole. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit and—and not…” She sighed. “Jesus, I didn’t stop at all, did I?”

“Nope,” said Ari. “It was really hot, but it was way too much.”

“See, it’s stuff like that which makes this so much more confusing.”

“You think I have myself figured out?” Ari rolled her eyes. “Arrogant, much?”

“Whatever, okay, I’m also sorry for dumping you too fast after I technically got your house burned down!” Nicole threw up her hands. “I should have waited a week or two.”

“Three months,” corrected Ari. “Just enough time for me to realize that you really weren’t worth the effort.”

“I feel like you’re just telling us a fantasy you had at this point.” Nicole slumped in her chair. “Are we done?”

“Yeah. We’re done. We’re not good, and we never will be, but we’re done. Still kind of don’t even know how to react to this.” Ari stared at her. “You seem way less hot than you did thirty seconds ago.”

“Yeah, weird how that works.” Nicole waved her off. “You’re welcome.”

“Kinda ruining your own apology there, Nicole.”

“Wow, okay, bye, Ari! Bring your own lawn chair next time,” said Jecka, shooting Ari a look over her shoulder. “You got ass sweat all over my arm rest. Twice!”

“I haven’t even had gym yet!” bemoaned Ari. “I was having a moment!”

“Your super long moment is ruining the roof party,” said Emily, adjusting her hair. “Get lost, ho.”

“Oh, you dipshits can fuck off,” yelled Ari, stomping down the stairs. “The roof sucks!”

“The roof kinda does suck,” said Nicole, as Ari slammed the door below them. “I’m still sober.”

“Are you sure?” asked Emily. “This stuff starts working way before the full thing hits you. You just apologized to Ari and talked about growing dicks for like ten minutes. And it’s not like yesterday was that different.”

“I’d totally do all of that sober,” lied Nicole, her shoulders and gut way more loose than she remembered them being, the screeching static in the back of her brain even quieter than yesterday. Shit, don’t let Jecka find out she was right. “I did do that sober.”

“Right, okay, well, now that we’re all relaxed, and apparently still sober, why don’t we—” Emily whipped out her phone as she got a text. “Sorry. Rain check. Gotta take care of someone in the second floor bathroom,” she said, typing a response very quickly and sending it before Nicole could shift to even see it. “Roof’s kickass.”

“Did you just drop proposing a threesome mid-sentence because somebody else told you they wanted to fuck like a hundred feet away?” asked Nicole. “Damn, you are just the coolest and hottest bitch ever.”

“Takes hard work to keep the title.” Emily stood up and smiled down at Nicole. “Wanna join?”

“No, thanks.” Nicole raised a brow. “Inaugurative lesbian sex is your thing—wow, that’s a sentence.”

“A badass one. Still no, though?”

“Sorry. Just kinda not in the right frame of mind.”

“I’m good, too,” said Jecka. “I’m enjoying how relaxing this is way too much to stop.”

“Yeah, didn’t fucking ask you, Jecka,” scoffed Emily, kind of sauntering away, winking at Nicole over her shoulder as she left. “Door’s always open for you, Nicole.”

“You have made that very clear, yes.” Nicole shrugged as Jecka groused and fumed in her chair, the door slamming again below them. “Are you actually offended?”

“What the fuck—yes, of course I am.” Jecka blew a raspberry. “I wasn’t going to say yes, but seriously? I am totally hot and pretty enough.”

“Yeah, you are, but, I mean…” Nicole shrugged. “Why would she waste the effort asking you?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Come on, you know what it—” Nicole furrowed her brow and realized, just a moment before she said something incredibly stupid…the wrong realization, so she said something kind of dumber. “You wanted to experiment with her?”

“Yes, Nicole.” Jecka’s entire head slowly turned to her. “That’s what I wanted to do. I feel sooooooooo left out!” she said, sarcasm basically shooting out of her eyes. “You got me! I am extremely bi-curious!”

“So, it’s not that—”

“No, it’s not that!” Jecka harrumphed. “Forget it.”

“Okay.” Nicole lost track of how much anxiety the meds were easing, since what she said next came out of literally fucking nowhere and she had no idea what connection she made to even arrive at that point. Aside from ‘we’re alone and I really need to say this’. “I’d want to keep the dick.”

“I kind of assumed you would,” said Jecka, to Nicole’s actual shock. “Just from how you said it. Sounds like you.”

“It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. It just does.”

“Oh.” Nicole rested her hand on her head. “Fuck, does that make me a tranny?”

“Do you want to be a guy?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d want less.”

“Then, no, Nicole. “Jecka rolled her eyes. “That’s just a fetish.”

“Wow, Jecka.”

“Wanting to grow a dick, Nicole!” snapped Jecka. “Not being a tranny!”

“Chill, chill, chilllll.” Nicole waved her off. “I know what you meant.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, no, no, no, no, fuck you.” Nicole lounged even more. “Only way that happens.”

“That’s what you keep saying, yeah.” Jecka gave her a sidelong glance. “Why do you want a dick, anyway?”

“So I’d get off without even trying while fucking people, duh.”

“Aren’t there strap-ons that do that?”

“There are, but that’s not really the same thing.”

“If it was warm enough, it’d probably feel almost the same, honestly…”

“Not on my end.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jecka hummed. “Maybe you could, like, convince yourself you felt it?”

“What, drive myself deliberately insane just so I could feel like I had a dick and balls?”

“Ew, what the fuck, Nicole?” Jecka gagged but stopped half-way through, clearing her throat and smiling. “Sorry! Sorry, I—I was surprised. I thought we were just talking about the shaft.”

“No, the whole thing, Jecka. How would that even work without balls?”

“Biology doesn’t matter in fantasies, Nicole. Look, now I know.” Jecka nodded slowly. “The full package of full packages.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think they have fake functional balls, Nicole.”

“Then somebody should make them.” Nicole frowned and slouched. “Such bullshit.”

“Yeah, kinda. There’s gotta be, like, a huge market for that!”

“You’re pushing too hard.”

“I know, I just—I feel really shitty.” Jecka shrugged. “You must feel even worse.”

“I don’t really feel anything except for anger, the rare dose of fear, vague amusement, and irritation, remember?” Nicole paused. “Guess you managed to hit targets one and four. Congratulations.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“I know.” Nicole sighed. “It’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes, bitch, it’s fine.”

“So, uhm…” Jecka chewed on her cheek and scooched her lawn chair really close. “How come you want the whole thing?”

“You are, again, pushing way too hard.”

“I’m not pushing! I’m your bestie and I want to know!”

“Uh huh.” Nicole looked at her from the corner of her eye. “You actually give a shit about this?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Are you sure you’re not just—”

“I’m invested and I care, okay? Bitch, just fucking tell me why you want a dick and balls!”

“Okay.” Nicole sat up and gave Jecka one last look, to make totally sure that she was serious. She was. “I think it’d be hot if I had the constant threat of ruining someone’s entire life flopping around in my pants at all times.”

“Nicole, it’s a penis.” Jecka’s face flattened. “It’s not a—” She coughed. “Sword.”

“Just say gun, Jecka. It doesn’t help if I know you’re doing that.”

“Whatever—either way, it’s not a gun, it’s a penis.”

“No, no, listen. Just listen.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Are you—”

“Yes, I’m listening. I already said I was invested.”

“Think about having that kind of power all the time.”

“Right.” Jecka nodded. “Thinking about it.”

“So, you’re basically a biological weapon that the Geneva Convention only allows to walk around without getting castrated because of some bullshit loophole, right?” Nicole’s eyes hardened. “You could walk into a village in Booniesassfuckistan and essentially commit genocide by spreading your fucked up skeet to every woman there in one afternoon.”

“I, like, can’t even…legally disagree with anything you just said.” Jecka paled and swallowed. “I’m kind of grossed out by how accurate something that insane was.”

“Takes two seconds to knock some bitch up, Jecka, and that’s it. That kind of rush? I’d literally kill for it.” Nicole edged closer to Jecka, her jaw tensing. “Always just waiting, right there, whenever you want. And straight girls who want to get railed don’t have a choice other than to trust that you won’t rip the condom off and skeet in them raw at the last second.”

“Okay, the stabbing thing makes way more sense now.” Jecka shuddered. “Nicole, this is really fucked up.”

“I know. It’s amazing.” Nicole smirked, and it was completely real. “Imagine if you could swap junk with a guy right before he fucks you, and then you’re fucking him—that’s your superpower.” She snapped her fingers. “Trading equipment. Skeet in them, and switch back.”

“You…you just described literally fucking yourself.” Jecka screwed up your face. “And knocking yourself up.”

“No, no, no, no, the skeet stays in the guy. It’s his.”

“How—where?!”

“I don’t know, his stomach? Look, that’s not the point. That’s how guys feel all the time. They don’t need to imagine it.” Nicole gripped the edges of her arm rests. “We’re breeding stock, Jecka. When they get the urge, they pump some bitch up, and that’s it. Your life is basically over.”

“Haven’t heard the whole ‘breeding stock’ thing from you before. Not sure if that’s worse or better.” Jecka rested her head back on the rest and sighed. “We both have moms, Nicole. Everybody does.”

“Yeah, and their lives are an endless struggle to keep swallowing the urge to murder us.” Nicole gestured between them. “We’re their kids, Jecka.”

“Holy shit, you’re right.” Jecka gaped. “How have they not killed themselves yet?”

“We lift their vicodin every other week, why the fuck do you think they haven’t?”

“I’m just saying I’d probably do it anyway no matter how high I was if I had to raise you, Nicole.”

“Oh, so, raising you, that’s a cakewalk?” Nicole crossed her arms and scoffed. “You’re a perfect kid?”

“I’ve never made and sold crack for community service hours or convinced a guy to kill himself so I’d maybe date him three separate times!”

“Only because you never thought to do that, and where’s your evidence I sold anything to anyone?”

“I helped you cook it.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know what I did with it.”

“You told me you sold it—whatever.”

“Exactly. Whatever. You don’t give a shit about the other two guys—you’ve never even heard of them, and I kinda don’t remember who they were.” Nicole waved her off. “Kylar was only clinically dead for half an hour. Not like he had any brain cells to even lose. See? Also not a problem.” She rolled her eyes. “And you are not a fucking saint. You were this close to a White Nationalist phase.”

“N—no, I wasn’t! Mr. White was just really convincing, and I was trying to be friendly, and that’s how they get you, so—” Jecka clenched her eyes shut. “Okay, it doesn’t matter how stupid I almost was, Nicole. I didn’t do that.”

“You flirted with a guy to get him to murder his own mom to maybe date you.”

“Shit, I forgot about that.” Jecka buried her face in her hands. “Hey—” She scowled at Nicole. “That was your idea! You’re the one who brought it up! I just ran with it!”

“Doesn’t matter. You sealed the deal.”

“Yeah. I did.” Jecka stared at the sky. “What was his name? Keith? Kevin?”

“Who cares?” Nicole shrugged. “My brother probably ate him by now, anyway.”

“Oh, so the pedophilia wasn’t enough, he’s a cannibal, too?”

“I think, like, half of prisoners are.” Nicole chewed on her lip. “Or they become one if they don’t get eaten.”

“That’d explain the half,” grumbled Jecka. “Jesus, Nicole.”

“School-to-prison pipeline is as real as it gets.”

“Okay, no, that is not what that is talking about.”

“Whatever.” Nicole rested her arms on her legs. “Guess you’re just as fucked up as me.”

“If only I was…” Jecka sighed. “That’d make everything so much easier.”

“How?”

“It just would.”

“Okay.” Nicole stared at her for a few seconds and kept talking—why do you keep doing this to yourself? Fucking stupid drugs making you talk about things that feel not shit to talk about. “So, what’s that called?”

“What’s what called—oh, the—the thing with only wanting to fuck people and not getting fucked?” Jecka chuckled and rubbed her forehead. “For you? I think that just means you’re not straight or whatever and get off on control. Could’ve told you that.”

“Huh.” Nicole felt absolutely nothing. “Okay.”

“You already did that little loop with being a lesbian and then not, or whatever, so I dunno how this is surprising to you.”

“I dunno, I think this is different.” Nicole swallowed. “Like, that’s just that.”

“It could be.”

“Well, if it is, I don’t feel better.”

“Why would you?”

“Because Ari had this whole huge moment where she said she felt super liberated by me outing her and free for the first time in her life!” Nicole shot up out of the chair and flailed her arms around. “This is bullshit!” she yelled, kicking her lawn chair enough times so the legs folded inward. “Where’s my magic gay catharsis?!”

“Wow.” Jecka watched her and popped her lips. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes?”

“I mean, yeah.” Nicole rubbed the back of her neck and looked at her. “Sometimes. I did this time.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I…I hear it.” Nicole stared down at her shoes. “Hey, uh…”

“Hm?” Jecka perked up. “Nicole?”

“I don’t…” Nicole took a deep breath. “I don’t think I want to fuck people.”

“Oh.” Jecka raised her brows. “What…what do you mean?”

“Like, I…if nobody ever asked, I wouldn’t. If people ask, and—being good at sex is cool, so, obviously, I’m going to try to be awesome.”

“Okay, well, I have no idea what that is called. I didn’t even know that was a thing at all until you just told me it was.”

“Maybe it’s not a thing. Maybe it’s just me.” Nicole shrugged. “I don’t really care.”

“Whatever that is, it is you, and it is a thing.” Jecka nodded. “It sounds kinda cool.”

“You’re pushing it again.”

“I know, but—okay, I feel like I should, right now? Shouldn’t I?”

“I guess it’s fine.” Nicole snorted. “Why’s it cool?”

“Uh, because you apparently got amazing at sex because it would be cool, and not because you, like, wanted to keep having sex?”

“So, it’s cool because I don’t care?” Nicole couldn’t even argue with that. “That makes sense.”

“Duh, bitch, I know what I was saying.”

“Okay, then…” Nicole ran a hand through her hair. “What does wanting to fuck someone feel like?”

“Nicole, almost all music ever is about that.”

“That doesn’t mean I get what they’re trying to say. C’mon, describe it for me.”

“I’m not an on-call poet! I can’t just do that.”

“Could you at least half-ass an attempt, Jecka?”

“Can’t you just ask someone else?”

“I could. I don’t want to. I want to know how it feels for you.”

“Wow.” Jecka stared at her blankly for a few moments. “Okay. Then, sure, I’ll do my best.”

“Cool.”

“It won’t be. It…” Jecka blushed and fidgeted with her fingers. “It feels like you’ve…” She closed her eyes. “I literally can’t look at you or anything while I say this.”

“I get it.”

“It feels like you’ve run out of words to say anything, I guess?” answered Jecka, her eyes squeezing tighter. “Like if you don’t do something, anything at all, just—even just kissing them, hugging, literally anything to touch them, in any way, big or small, you’ll…” She trailed off. “Part of you will die.”

“Does it actually?” asked Nicole, raising a brow. “Is that why basically all guys are rapists?”

“No, it’s not literal. It just feels like that.” Jecka opened her eyes. “And when you do finally get there with somebody you care that much about, not just someone you’re really hot for, it…” She shrugged. “I don’t know what that feels like. I want to, though. A lot.”

“Why? How do you even know the difference is that huge?”

“Well…” Jecka smiled. “I’m pretty sure it’s the difference between being alone, and not, you know?”

“I think so.” Nicole fixed her lawn chair and sat back down. “That’s big.”

“Yeah.” Jecka shrugged. “Doesn’t get any bigger.”

“Hope you find whoever that is. Eventually.”

“Eventually? Why not soon?”

“If it was soon, you’d have already found them.”

“Heartwarming logic, Nicole. Very supportive.” Jecka rolled her eyes. “Whatever. So, how do you feel?”

“About what?”

“Your meds, Nicole.”

“What makes you think I feel any different?”

“Uh, because I know you? Because I’ve been here talking to you?” Jecka gave Nicole a poignant look. “So…”

“So what?”

“So, what did three clonazepam do for you?”

“Wow, using the full medical name to sound super serious? Cheap shot.” Nicole rummaged through her jacket pockets and whipped the bottle of prescription lexapro at Jecka. “I wasn’t lying about traumatizing psychiatrists yesterday. According to the new bitch trying to chemically castrate my brain, I established a pattern that was more than enough to work with.”

“That’s really not surprising.” Jecka read the label a few times. Again. What was the point of memorizing them? “You made a promise, Nicole. You barely kept it, and it hasn’t even been a week.” She looked up at her. “So, how do you feel? Stop dodging.”

“I dunno.” Nicole shrugged. “The same.”

“Nicole, in the last hour you have been more honest and open with me, not to mention Emily, Ari, and Megan, than you ever have been. And that was on one of your meds,” stressed Jecka, handing her the bottle. “You apologized to Ari. You apologized. You said you were sorry.”

“Only because you’d have gotten even pissier if I didn’t, Jecka. That’s the whole reason I did any of this.”

“I don’t care. You still apologized. I don’t even care if you meant it or not. You said you were sorry on one of your meds.” Jecka crossed her arms. “You do feel different. You can’t hide it.”

“Sounds like some fucked up super truth serum to me. Makes me extra vulnerable to suggestion!” Nicole shook the bottle in her hand and squinted at it. “All the more reason to flush all of it and never think about this again. Okay, I’ll still fill them, but the lexapro is getting eaten by the sewer gators.”

“I…actually can’t believe you right now.” Jecka balled her hands into fists, shaking in her chair. “I’m pushing myself as hard as I can to keep talking and thinking of shit to say to you, smothering you with people to cover for me without them even knowing it because you asked for help—”

“Throwing people at me? What does—”

“I bribed Ari and Megan to come up here again today!” snapped Jecka. “With your drugs! Emily wasn’t supposed to make a profit, but, whatever! I can’t keep this up forever, Nicole, but I’m trying because I’m your bestie, to distract you, or whatever, and you just—” She twitched. “You have help in your hand, Nicole. And you’re refusing to take it.”

“You seriously believe this is going to help?” Nicole sighed. “Jecka, this is all just snake oil bullshit. It messes with your head so you get dependent on it, addicted to it, and that’s how they sell you more.” She frowned down at the bottle. “Bottom line is that I don’t trust this stuff. I don’t trust anyone who would say ‘yes, this specific mashed up combo of chemicals designed to fuck with your brain is the perfect thing for you, sweetheart’ and then say that to next fifty bitches waiting behind me.”

“You apologized to Ari!” snapped Jecka. “What the fuck other proof do you need that this can help you, Nicole?!”

“I dunno, literally anything else?”

“And you’d just keep saying you need more, right? What do you trust, Nicole? Do you trust anyone? Anything?”

“I trust lyrics that don’t make me want to vomit, restaurant chain food not to kill me for fear of a lawsuit, and you. Mostly.” Nicole shrugged and looked up from the bottle, Jecka’s teeth grinding. “Okay, I’m getting the feeling that was the wrong answer.”

“There’s no wrong answer, Nicole!” Jecka took a breath. “If you trust me, then I’m saying, okay, I’m saying, to pop your fucking pills.”

“All of them?”

“Yes!”

“What happens if I don’t? We’re not friends anymore?” Nicole raised a brow. “That’s a messed up ultimatum, Jecka.”

“I didn’t say that.” Jecka shook her head. “We’ll still be friends. I’m still your bestie, as pissesd as I’ll be that you broke the easiest promise ever. I’m only saying that I think you’re making a mistake, and that you’ve got a way to help yourself, right there, okay, and you should at least try to use it.”

“Will it make you happy if I pop these?” Nicole shook the bottle again. “Well?”

“You can’t put this on me, Nicole! This is your life. I’m your friend, your bestie, you trust me, I’m telling you how I feel about it.”

“Okay, sure, I get that, but will it?”

Jecka crossed her arms and looked away, grumbling something under her breath.

“Guess I’ll take that as yes.” Nicole popped one lexapro, the third and final klonopin, and screwed both caps back on. “There. Happy?”

“No—yes. Fuck you.”

“Knew it.”

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

Her meds had not changed that overnight, but Nicole still kept her word, surprising even herself.

She followed the directions on the bottle. With the proper dosage, taken in the morning, the clonazepam basically made that twisted knot in her gut and throat looser, and every vicious response to every question people asked her either took way too long to think of or came out not exactly as harsh.

By like, a quarter of a second, and maybe just the teensiest bit not as mean.

Like, everything she said was still mean, incredibly cruel, but something about the way she said it was just different enough to get a chuckle out of her target, and sometimes everyone else around them. Typically not with the guys, though. They were still easy to tear apart, and she still wanted to, so she did. But it wasn’t as often, which was scary until Nicole realized that she wasn’t as tired at the end of the day as she used to be.

She had literally been exhausting herself being a hot, badass bitch for years and never realized it. Awesome? Yes. Worth it? Also yes. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to ease off the gas a little, though. Take a minute or ten. Be more selective with her acid blood.

Was she sleep deprived, too, or something? Because going to bed got easier. How much of her life was based entirely in exhaustion? Oh, right, all of it, duh. Just never seemed like the kind of ‘tired’ you could sleep away, and she’d given that a shot enough times to know for sure. She wasn’t feeling, well, better, but, yeah, not as tired.

Getting up and out of bed, and generally existing, though, yeah, still almost too much to ask.

Anxiety meds worked fast, both into and out of your system, so that adjustment wasn’t too bad to acclimate to. She’d had some practice with it on the roof, which helped, along with her experience with other tranqs. Easy peasy.

Nicole wasn’t happier, but she was, again, less tired. Needs emphasis because that was how less tired she was. Slightly less ‘two seconds away from tearing out half the people in the room’s throats with her teeth and somehow blaming that on Jeffery’ on any given day.

So, klonopin? Yeah, that one’s a winner. No complaints.

On the other hand, Nicole was not a fan of lexapro, and she nearly broke that part of the deal almost every morning. Just stop taking it and never tell Jecka. But, she’d know. And she’d kinda promised. May as well keep her word to the one person that mattered; who seemed to actually give a shit.

That and she’d just bitch and moan in her ear if she didn’t.

All lexapro did for that first week was squeeze Nicole’s brain through a strainer to get all the shit out of it, and it actually hurt despite those nerves being long dead in her fingers and toes. Sure, yeah, that psychiatrist bitch who wanted to skullfuck her brain into mindless docility said it could take a month or two for anything ‘big’ to happen, but it still sucked ass since the ‘small’ stuff felt like somebody was trying to re-attach her limbs when they were perfectly fine and still on her body.

Only thing left to do was wait and keep a promise longer than she’d ever had in probably her entire life. Technically, she never promised Jecka that she wouldn’t mix her meds with the more fun shit to make the ordeal less miserable and agonizing. Which she did do almost immediately the day after she agreed to start taking the lexapro. Well….

Okay, she tried to.

“Nicole, what are you—” Jecka all but gaped at her, cigarette hanging between her fingers as she stopped mid stride on the roof, one of her shoes still stuck in that pile of frisbees she’d accidentally stumbled into. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Are you not happy enough already that I’m taking my meds? You won; bask in it.” Nicole rummaged through her ziploc, shaking it as she felt herself smirk. “The edge isn’t gone, it’s just dulled, so I need something to finish the rest of the job. Get me through the day. You know the drill.”

“Nicole, if you don’t put that bag away I’m going to take it from you,” said Jecka, flicking her cigarette away off the roof, her eyes hardening with an intensity that Nicole actually kind of appreciated. She looked cool. “If this is a joke, it’s kind of the shittiest one I can think of. Cut it out before I make you.”

“What’re you going to do?” Nicole picked out a percocet and showed it to her. “Become the helicopter mom I never had or wanted? I don’t have anything against older women, but any dom of mine isn’t going to also sub in for my mom.” She shrugged. “Not that I don’t understand where you got that idea. We are cursed to take after our parents, after all.”

“Why the fuck are you—” Jecka blushed form head to toe. “Nicole. Put that away. Now.”

“Make me, bitch.”

Jecka did. She was on her faster than Nicole could even react, pinning her against the wall, right under that stupid mural of a dog taking a shit, arm behind her back. “You stupid bitch. You stupid, stupid, stupid, lucky bitch.” She yanked her ziploc out of her hand and showed to her, the plastic and pills bunching up in her fist. “Is your memory swiss-fucking-cheese, Nicole?”

“Since when can you do things like this? That was badass.” Nicole wiggled her free hand, still holding the percocet. “Were you taking self-defense classes this whole time or something?”

“Yeah, ever since I watched you get shot and just stood there, so drop the perc right now or I swear to God, Nicole!”

“Or what? You’re not going to actually hurt me.”

“Or I’ll throw the entire bag off the roof.”

“You bitch!” Nicole dropped the pill onto the filthy ground and her eyes widened as she watched Jecka frantically crush it with her sneakers. Bit of an overreaction, but that’s probably fine. “Jesus, Jecka, since when did you start saying ‘no’ to drugs?”

“Kylar put himself into a coma when he did this!” Jecka let her go and pulled away, her hand still closed on the ziploc. “You almost just put yourself into a coma! You can’t mix clonazepam and percocet!”

“That was xanax. This is klonopin—seriously, you sound exactly as preppy a narc as you look when you say the fancier name.” Nicole shrugged. “Look, they’re two totally different things. They probably don’t even interact.”

“Do you even read these labels? They’re based on the same chemical!”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, shit.” Nicole actually felt a spike of fear and dread from that. “I almost just—”

“Drugged yourself into a fucking coma, yeah, you did, Nicole.” Jecka took a shaky breath and looked down at the ziploc. “I didn’t even think to ask if you’d taken percocet in like, the past week. Oh my God. Oh God.”

“Why would you? My mom lifted my stash, remember? I didn’t have anything to take. That’s how this whole thing even started.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s true.” Jecka took a closer look at Nicole and swallowed. “I’d know if you were fucked up, too. I’d—I’d know.”

“You’d know, yeah. Nobody died, so relax, Jecka.” Nicole grabbed for her ziploc and Jecka pulled it away again. “Come on. Give it back. Those are mine.”

“Can you even use anything in here? Last I checked, you don’t keep adderall handy.”

“Yeah, because my good-for-literally-one-thing brother’s been in prison and he was the one who had that prescription.” Nicole tried for the bag again and overreached, nearly losing her balance completely. “Goddamnit, Jecka, are you five? What kind of bullshit version of ‘keep away’ is this?”

“Promise to sell it all and you’ll get it back.” Jecka held the bag in the air, her arm reaching over the edge of the roof. “Count of three. Two. One—”

“Fuck, fine!” Nicole frowned as caught the bag after Jecka whipped it at her, and shoved it in her jacket. “This is bullshit. Being sober forever wasn’t part of the deal.”

“There was no deal.” Jecka lit a fresh cigarette and took a drag, her eyes not leaving Nicole’s for a moment. “You chose this for yourself.”

“Bitch, I said I was doing it for you. All but promised—I basically did promise.” Nicole raised a brow as Jecka shoved a cigarette between her lips and lit it with hers so quickly and angrily that she almost missed it. “That’s, well, that’s still true.”

“Okay, well, great, in that case, yes.” Jecka made a wide circle with her cigarette, the smoking creating a hazy trail. “No drugs that will have horrible reactions to being mixed. That sounds like a really easy thing to manage.”

“So, what, I’m stuck with just alcohol and addys?” Nicole took a drag and clenched her eyes shut. “Why am I even listening to you?”

“Because I’m right and you know I’m right. I’m like, basically always right.” Jecka exhaled smoke through her nose, her eyes glazing over. “You’re not stuck with anything. If you want to drug yourself into a coma and leave yourself wide open for anybody who happens to come by your soon-to-be corpse, that is your business.”

“You just made me promise to sell my drugs.”

“Yeah, and I can’t stop you from breaking that promise.” Jecka crossed her arms. “I just have to hope you won’t.”

“You’d really just leave me there?” Nicole took another drag and cleared some open space with her sneakers, brushing aside the frisbees until there was enough room for roughly her not-quite-dead body. “If I was in a coma, right here?”

“You’ve been in a coma before, Nicole.”

“Yeah, but not in front of you. Not really.”

“Okay, well, whatever, that’s not the point.”

“What would you do?”

“Nicole, I am not going to help you romanticize self-inducing a fucking drug coma all over again!” snapped Jecka. “Why even bother tempting fate like that? Was it not enough that you pulled this with Emily?!”

“Come on, just tell me what you’d do.”

“What do you think I’d do?” Jecka took another drag. “I’d take you to the hospital.”

“Really? You wouldn’t even try to nurse me back to health in your own bed for, like, an hour?” Nicole felt herself smirk again and tapped ash. “You’re tempted. Don’t lie to me.”

“Do you want me to do that?” asked Jecka, giving her a sidelong glance. “Do you want me to watch over you when you’re a vegetable, Nicole?”

“I’d put you as my ‘next of kin’ if I could, let’s say that.”

“At least then I wouldn’t get kicked out.” Jecka shook her head and sighed. “I’d take you to a hospital.”

“Lame.”

“And I’d basically live there.” Jecka shrugged. “Somebody needs to advocate for the dumb bitch who mixed up her pills and knocked herself into a coma.”

“Yeah? Cut my nails while I’m basically brain dead for a decade? Trim my hair? Keep me looking good so when I wake up I can hit the ground running? Make sure I—”

“Shut up. Just stop.” Jecka bit her lip, her eyes falling. “Stop.”

“Why? What’s the problem?”

“The roof is the problem.” Jecka killed her cigarette on the bottom of her shoe. “I can’t be up here anymore.”

“What the hell? Why not?” Nicole raised her brows. “Jecka, it’s still perfect, even if we do get a few party crashers.”

“That’s why I can’t do this anymore.” Jecka paused, opened her mouth, but then seemed to think better of saying something, and closed it. “It’s too perfect.”

“What the fuck does—” Nicole scrambled to follow Jecka as she stormed off down the stairs. “Hey! Jecka, goddamnit, what’s—shit!”

“If you don’t OD into a coma, maybe we can come back up here.” Jecka put her hand on the door knob and chewed on her cheek, looking everywhere but at Nicole. “Put that out.”

Nicole put out her cigarette on the bottom of Jecka’s shoe.

“You are such an asshole.” Jecka snickered into a tiny laugh. “You’re not going to ask again?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“You really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t.” Jecka smiled, a little. “It’s not your fault, okay?”

“Yeah, I know. I was almost the stupidest bitch ever about me, not about you.”

The next day did not include additional pharmaceuticals, and neither did the day after that. Nicole, once again surprising even herself, kept her word. Well, okay, maybe that time wasn’t as surprising since the consequences included ‘become comatose indefinitely’, but still. New experiences and shit.

After that, Nicole stayed ‘sober’. Which was a blatant fucking lie, since the clonazepam was absolutely giving her a wonderfully delightful chill of softening the barbed wire bike chain that was life. The days ticked by. Five, six, seven, eight, nine—lexapro fucked with her more and more and more even as the clonazepam worked as ‘intended’.

She could have mixed in adderall probably safely, but she wasn’t relaxed enough for that not to result in Nicole being a jittery, ‘look at me I just snorted coke’ mess. Being drunk at school was just way too trashy and depressing, so that was out. Cold medicine seemed like a bad idea, even if she was pretty sure it wouldn’t kill her.

And then day ten hit.

Day ten, now, holy shit, day ten was when it got weird, because Nicole started getting laughs. Not just a snicker, or that bullshit ‘mob mentality’ giggling people did when you made the teacher look like a dumbass or bullied Jeffery, or ‘that’s funny’, but laughter. Not at her! She thought the same thing and nearly spiraled until she realized her Pre-Calc class was amused and even Mr. Burleday was laughing, too.

Those assholes thought she was funny! And, okay, yeah! Nicole was really funny! Obviously, she’d always been funny. That’s part of how charm and charisma worked, dumbass.

“Can anyone tell me which theorem we’re meant to use for this problem?” asked Mr. Burleday, projecting his voice just loud enough to be irritating but not too loud to cause long-term ear damage. Why did every teacher do that? Even the quiet ones did it. Hear their whispers in the back of the damn room. Fucking weird. “I don’t want to cold call, but I will if I have to, folks.”

“He says that every time,” whispered Jecka, spinning a pencil between her fingers. “Does he think it makes him more likable, or something?”

“Who cares? He’s just going to call on Kelly again,” grumbled Nicole. “Starting to think she wants his attention.”

“Out of all the male teachers here, he is the only cute one,” admitted Jecka, shrugging. “He’s also the dumbest, so, I guess he might be easy to control?”

“He’s like thirty-five, Jecka.”

“I know, I’m just saying he’s cute.”

“I mean—yeah, I guess so.”

“Nicole!” boomed Mr. Burleday, making her teeth rattle. “Which theorem are we supposed to use?”

“Why are you calling on me?” groaned Nicole, picking her head up off of her desk. “You never call on me.”

“Yeah, why are you calling on Nicole?” whined Kelly. “You never call on Nicole.”

“The entire faculty just went through some new training, and one of the things we need to practice is ‘shaking up routines’ in our classrooms,” answered Mr. Burleday. “It was pretty vague on what we’re actually supposed to do, so I’m just gonna wing it.”

“I do not have the vocabulary to adequately express how much I don’t care about everything you just said,” said Nicole. “I don’t know the answer. Ask someone else.”

“Just try your best, Nicole.”

“I did. I don’t know.”

“Pick a theorem. You might get it right!”

“Jesus Christ, if I tell you the answer, will you finally teach us how to commit tax fraud?” snapped Nicole, smacking her palm down onto her desk. “Because that’s literally the only reason I can think of for anyone ever to actually take math past maybe eighth grade!” She sneered. “Oh, wait, what am I saying? If you knew how to rip off the government, you wouldn’t be stuck in this bullshit job dealing with us!”

Jecka was the first to laugh, which wasn’t that weird. Then Karen. Then Mr. Burleday himself, then Kelly, then—then everybody. Even fucking Jeffery, which was the most agonizing sound of mouth breathing snot. God, it was like somebody was repeatedly strangling a feral cat but kept stopping before it blacked out.

“Or maybe I did commit tax fraud, and that’s why I’m in this job instead of somewhere that would actually pay enough for me to live above the poverty line,” replied Mr. Burleday. “Food stamps are convenient, and a godsend, but they never stop being embarrassing.”

“Ew, cute, dumb, and poor at thirty-five,” muttered Jecka. “If I were his wife I’d kill myself, too.”

“Did you just engage with my joke?” asked Nicole, struggling to see straight. “Wait, I wasn’t even—that wasn’t a joke! How did you—”

“I tried to,” said Mr. Burleday. “Halfway through, I realized I wasn’t joking, either.”

“Holy shit, that is just sad.”

“No one does this for the money, Nicole.”

“Yeah, just for the privilege to fuck underage kids, right?”

“Language, Nicole—why do I even bother? I see we’re back on our usual track.” Mr. Burleday sighed and stopped paying attention to her. “Alright, anyone else?”

“I went right for his throat. What the fuck just happened?” asked Nicole. “Why didn’t he kick me out of class?”

“You made a pretty good joke, Nicole,” said Jecka. “Why would he kick you out?”

“I wasn’t joking. I even told him that. I was trying to get him to leave me alone.”

“So? You got him to do that. Since when do you care how you did that?”

“I guess.” Nicole pinched her brow. “This is so weird.”

“Are you complaining that you didn’t get written up?”

“No, it’s just—” Nicole almost jumped out of her chair because Jeffery had somehow snuck up on her and Jecka. “Oh my God, how are you so quiet when you only breathe through your mouth?”

“That was really funny, Nicole!” wheezed Jeffery, the sweat from his pores so visible that he was actually shiny. But, like, shit stained copper, not gold. “I had no idea you were so interested in tax fraud. My step-dad’s been trying to figure out how to keep me as a dependent if the worst should happen.”

“Please make this stop,” urged Jecka. “I can’t do this today.”

“I got it,” assured Nicole. “Jeffery, sounds like he’s planning on murdering you the second he figures out how to make it cost effective.”

“No! No, he’d never do that,” claimed Jeffery, stuttering, utterly failing to convince even himself. “Oh, wow. I guess I’d never set it out loud. That’s—”

“Yeah, awesome, you’ll be dead within the month, do not give a shit and nobody else does, either,” seethed Nicole, even as she had the best idea. “Which is just a shame. Wouldn’t it be nice if literally anybody cared if you were dead?”

“People would care if I died!”

“I forget you’re alive until you breathe near us,” said Jecka. “I literally would not notice if you stopped existing. I’d probably sleep better since I wouldn’t have to erase you from my memory every fucking day you talk to me.”

“Yeah, you’re giving Jecka insomnia, and she needs her beauty rest,” said Nicole. “You wouldn’t want her to stop being pretty, would you?”

“I’m only a perfect ten if I get my eight hours!” Jecka winked. “Any less and I’m just a nine-point-five.”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t want people to lose sleep over me,” rambled Jeffery, because, wait, where was she going with this? It was really good! Shit, it—right, got it. “That’s unhealthy. My mom says kids who wake up their parents or keep anyone awake go to hell.”

“What the fuck kind of bible is that from?” mumbled Jecka. “The ‘deadbeat mom and dad’ edition?”

“Right, so glad you agree. Then you should do something about that,” guided Nicole. “Otherwise, you’re going to hell. Because every girl is losing sleep over trying to forget you exist.”

“I get the feeling that you’re not actually going to help me,” grumbled Jeffery. “You can’t trick me that easily anymore, Nicole.”

“I will suck you off behind the bleachers today if you get Kylar to fuck you in the ass,” countered Nicole, and Jecka understandably almost fell out of her desk before barely recovering. “What? That not good enough an offer?”

“Wh—what?!” Jeffery blushed, began sweating profusely, and also actually vibrated. Eugh. How can someone do everything in the most disgusting way possible? “You—you’d—but—”

“She’ll do it,” reinforced Jecka, looking at Nicole with increasing concern. Just go with it! “She’s dead serious. I’ve never seen her this serious. I’m actually kind of freaked out by how serious she is. She really wants me to have my beauty sleep.”

“Bitch, if you’re not catching all of your zs then I’m up half the night worrying how sad people will be when you show up in the morning not as pretty as can be,” added Nicole. “What’s it gonna be, Jeffery?”

“I’m not going to do that!” Jeffery shook his head. “I’m straight. I—I’m straight, Nicole, you can’t trick me into—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you are or aren’t, Jeffery. Are you going to do it or not?”

“Even if I do, you’re not going to actually give me a blowjob. I’m not that stupid.”

“You’re still standing here, so, yeah, you really are,” mumbled Jecka, twirling her hair with her finger. “But you are so right to be cautious!”

“It’s not really about whether or not you’re an idiot or if you believe me, Jeffery.” Nicole forced herself to lean closer to him, and almost vomited into his face. Save that one for another time when nobody’s looking. Might be worth it. “This is about how much you don’t want to go to hell. Apparently.”

Jeffery probably tried to say something, but Jecka shut him up by slamming her fist into her desk.

“She wasn’t done,” said Jecka. “Shut up and listen.”

“So, the way I see this, you need to really ask yourself which is more important to you…” continued Nicole, narrowing her eyes. “To be a straight virgin for the rest of your pathetic rolling-in-dead-dog-shit life, or popping two cherries on the same day.” She raised her brows and backed off. “Actually, yeah, you’re right, that’s kind of a tease if it’s not all three. Suck Kylar’s dick, too, and I’ll fuck you.”

“You’re lying,” said Jeffery, fooling absolutely nobody. “You’re—you’re lying. You have to be lying.”

“Jeffery, if you are actually enough of a man to suck another guy’s dick and bend over to take it up the ass, you will instantly be the most attractive guy to every girl in school.”

“How does that make any sense?!”

“You’re spending a lot of time trying to logic your way out of me sucking your dick and riding you until you’re bone dry, Jeffery.” Nicole smirked, dropping her voice an octave. Hooded eyes, flutter the lashes, feel disgusting later. “I can’t help but feel a little offended. Don’t you want me, Jeffery? Don’t you want to feel me?”

Mercifully, the bell rang, and Jeffery ran away basically tripping over himself and his own words.

“Wow, perfect timing, and I didn’t get kicked out of class. Huh. I don’t actually hate sticking around the whole time.” Nicole grabbed her bag and hauled it over her shoulder. “Yeah, I can already tell this is going to be way more interesting than seeing if I can create and then incite a gang war over me.”

“When have you ever tried to do that?” asked Jecka, still eyeing her with great concern. “And what the fuck was—”

“I haven’t. I’ve considered it. Way too much prep work.”

“Nicole!” Jecka grabbed her by the hand and dragged her out into the hallway, basically shoving her towards the cafeteria. “What the fuck was that?”

“Best idea I’ve had in years that I refuse to elaborate on with an empty stomach.”

“If you did all of that just to get me to buy you a hoagie from that stupid sandwich line, I’m going to be so pissed at you, Nicole,” sighed Jecka, slamming down the tray in front of her along with her packed lunch. “These are so bad and not even worth it.”

“They have roast beef and cheese, bitch. Zero complaints.” Nicole took a massive bite. “Oh, yeah, that is exactly what I needed.”

“Great.” Jecka sat down across from her. “So, what the fuck was that?!”

“What the fuck was what?” asked Emily, plopping down next to Nicole. “What’s the goss?”

“You don’t have this lunch period, Emily.”

“I actually do. I just normally skip it.”

“Why are you skipping lunch?” asked Nicole. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Best time of the day to move product and quickies.” Emily smiled. “Before you ask, yes, they do pay me first. Happy, sated, and high customers are loyal customers.”

“I take it back, that makes perfect sense.” Nicole hummed. “What are you going to college for again?”

“Still too sober for that convo.”

“Whatever, we can talk about that later. Nicole—” Jecka blinked at Kelly sitting down beside her. “Wow, hello? Who said you could sit here, Kelly?”

“Are we not just all grouping up around Nicole?” Kelly looked at Jecka like she was a very confused puppy. “It definitely looked like we were doing that.”

“No, that’s not what’s happening. Emily just showed up because she does that.”

“Yeah,” agreed Emily. “I do that.”

“It’s her thing.”

“It’s one of my many things.”

“I remember,” said Kelly, glaring at Emily. “Why do you think I’m not blinking?”

“You have a problem, Kelly?” asked Emily. “Because it sounds like you have a problem with me.”

“Of course I have a problem with you! You literally choked me out during gym last year!”

“I did?” Emily’s eyes looked so focused on every single thing other than what was around her. “Why would I even do that?”

“I mean—” Kelly winced. “I feel like if I tell you why you did you’ll just do it again.”

“Must’ve been a good reason, then.” Emily shot her a wry smile. “But, that sounds like we’re even. You did something, and then you got what was coming to you.”

“I did not deserve getting choked out for two minutes for that!”

“Kelly said you weren’t as pretty as Fergie,” remembered Nicole, forgetting to shut her mouth before actually saying that aloud, and Jecka glaring at her wasn’t a great sign. “Okay, listen, sometimes you just blurt stuff out you forgot.”

“Wow.” Emily’s face broke into a bizarre laugh. “I must’ve been crazy high, because if I wasn’t, Kelly, you wouldn’t have gotten up.” She stared very intensely at Kelly. “How about we strike a deal?”

“Uhm.” Kelly gave her an odd, hesitant look. “Maybe.”

“Apologize, and I promise I won’t choke you out again, okay?”

“I don’t believe you or trust you or like you,” said Kelly. “Why would that count for anything?”

“Why would I lie when I could have just already done it again?”

“Okay, I’m sorry!” yelped Kelly, waving her hands in front of her. “You’re prettier than Fergie!”

“I know.” Emily flipped her hair. “So, are we good?”

“Not yet, no. I am still terrified of you.”

“Really makes me more curious why you sat down here if you were that scared of Emily,” said Nicole. “Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

“Yeah, Kelly,” snipped Jecka, glaring at her. “Why’d you sit down here? All of a sudden? What’s so special about today that you planted your ass next to mine?”

“Oh, I’m trying to conquer my fears one at a time,” said Kelly. “It’s a church thing.”

“Of course it is.”

“Wait, don’t you like getting choked?” asked Emily. “That’s totally you I heard that about. I’m not remembering that wrong.”

“That’s not the point!” Kelly crossed her arms. “You never apologized.”

“Yeah, because you deserved it. And because I don’t even remember doing it.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine. Nicole likes you, so I guess I’m sorry for choking you out.”

“I have no idea where you got that idea.” Nicole shrugged. “I don’t really have any opinions about Kelly.”

“Yeah, and that’s basically liking me by default. Apology accepted and fear conquered!” chirped Kelly. “Guys love choking me out too, so there just must be something about my neck that invites it!”

“I can think of a few things about it,” mumbled Jecka.

“Kelly, can you remind me why I don’t explicitly like you?” asked Nicole, still chewing. “Because for the life of me I just cannot remember.”

“You don’t give a shit about Kelly,” said Jecka, massaging her temples. “You just hate her because I do.”

“What?” Kelly gasped. “Why do you hate me?”

“Because you have undercut me with literally every single guy I’ve ever even sort of kind of liked.” Jecka glared at Kelly. Full on fuming hatred. Yeah, kinda coming back to her now. Little by little. “Like some slutty stalking lunatic, if I so much as mention or think about a guy, you’re either blowing them or fucking them within an hour.”

“Jecka, that’s because I trust your judgment in men!” Kelly smiled, so…kindly? Like, it was a real smile, but she was also not all there in a way Nicole really had trouble nailing down. Kelly sure as hell fully believed what she was saying, that much Nicole knew. “I wasn’t trying to steal them. I’d never go against God like that. Lechery is a sin!”

“Bitch, half of those guys have girlfriends!”

“So? It’s not like they’re married.”

“Kelly, your reputation is that you prefer anal. How is that not sodomy?”

“Because I’m not having sex in Sodom, Jecka. No, but seriously, you can’t take all of that nearly as literally. That’s no way to live.” Kelly giggled. “It’s not like I can use any kind of birth control, so if I want to have sex without getting pregnant, which I will not before marriage, then anal’s kinda my only real option.”

“How dumb are you?” asked Emily, kind of sincerely. “I’ve seen you use your mouth to put condoms on no less than five dicks. That’s birth control, Kelly.”

“No, it’s not. If they had sex with my vagina, then yes, it would be. If it’s just my ass, then it’s disease prevention, Emily.” Kelly snickered. “It’s not rocket science.”

“What the fuck is happening right now?” Jecka clutched her head and stared down at the table. “Is this how Megan always feels? Out of her depth and like everyone else is insane? This is horrible.”

“I almost want to become a research psychologist just to do a case study on you, Kelly,” said Nicole, swallowing her bite as Jecka and Emily visibly struggled to process what had just been spoken aloud into the open air. “I won’t, because that’s way too much work, but if I did, you would be why. I wanted you to know that.”

“Awwww, that’s so sweet, Nicole!” beamed Kelly.

“I mean it’s really not, but sure, yeah, let’s pretend it is.”

“If I ask you to stop doing that, Kelly, will you?” asked Jecka. “Will you stop undercutting me?”

“I’m not undercutting you!” insisted Kelly. “Okay, maybe a little, but they’re still totally into you by the time I’m done. You’re like, all I talk about while we fuck. I’m basically your secret cheerleader—oops, not a secret anymore.”

“Is that why they all creep on me after they’re done with you?” Jecka held her head in her hands. “No, they’d still do that anyway. Ugh.”

“You talk about Jecka while they’re having sex with you?” asked Nicole. “Okay, I gotta know what kinds of things you say.”

“Why? What?” Jecka’s eyes shot to her so fast Nicole almost heard her optics nerve crack like a damn whip. “Why do you need to know that?”

“Why do you not? What if her endorsements aren’t glowing enough, Jecka? What if she’s giving you a bad name?”

“Oh—well, okay, Nicole, she already is by doing this in the first place.”

“I basically just kind of ramble about how pretty and nice and cool she is,” said Kelly. “I don’t actually remember what I specifically say. It’s really difficult to stay focused sometimes.”

“You’re gushing about another girl while the guy fucking you in the ass is choking you,” said Emily. “Too bad those dreams will never come true.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” Emily idly twirled her hair with her finger. “Just making an observation.”

“I think that’s kind of the least of her concerns, Emily,” sighed Jecka. “Whatever, Kelly, can you stop? Please?”

“I totally would, but then, like, I’d probably get raped and murdered if I want to keep having sex. Which I do. I am really bad at picking guys, and you’re amazing at it!” Kelly beamed. “You haven’t led me wrong once. You’re such a great friend.”

“We are not friends!”

“We totally are. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Picking the wrong guy when they all choke her out would actually kill her,” said Nicole. “Hate to say it, Jecka, but that does sound like you being a good friend.”

“Excuse me?!” snapped Jecka. “Nicole! You’re not helping!”

“Yeah, well, you’re not soaking up the credit for rescuing Kelly from her own poor judgment a million times.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.” Jecka’s eyes zipped to Kelly’s. “Why don’t you try listening to my taste in girls for a change? How about Ari?”

“Spoken like a true phony,” muttered Emily, so under her breath that Nicole was pretty sure that Jecka hadn’t heard it. “Can’t even come up with a different girl to pawn people off to.”

“Your taste in girls sucks,” said Nicole. “You don’t even like Ari.”

“You are again not helping, Nicole,” sighed Jecka. “Can you stop?”

“As soon as it stops being entertaining, sure.”

“I’m not technically supposed to have sex with girls, but I guess it kinda doesn’t count, now that I think about it,” said Kelly. “And, if you aren’t interested in her, and she’s a good egg, okay, sure, maybe it’s not just lust! Thanks so much, Jecka!”

“You are so—” Jecka threw up her hands. “I can’t actually handle this.”

“Sorry. I have some tylenol if you—”

“Oh, my God, Kelly, shut the fuck—”

“Jecka, Jecka, chill, wait, I’m almost positive there’s way more going on here,” hummed Emily. “Hey, Kelly? Why do you want to have that much sex?”

“It’s my mission from God,” answered Kelly, without any hesitation or dip in confidence.

“Like, are we talking Blues Brothers, or is this more a Life of Brian deal?”

“Since when can you remember movies?” asked Nicole, once again on instinct and automatically with no understanding of where that thought came from. “Actually, no idea why I asked that.”

“Every day you break my heart a little more,” sighed Emily, still staring at Kelly. “Well? Which is it?”

“Oh, sorry.” Kelly beamed. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Blues Brothers, for sure. That makes this so much easier to explain.”

“That is definitely an interpretation of the bible,” said Nicole. “I’m so glad I learned that.”

“Sure are a lot of those going around today,” grumbled Jecka. “Was there another schism or something? Did Bill Watterson somehow break up the Catholic church by proxy?”

“Nobody but me knows what you’re talking about, and stop ruining this, okay? Just wait.” Emily waved her off, even as Jecka sputtered in shock—wait, what was she talking about, oh who cares—and refocused on Kelly. “I don’t think I know what church you go to. What’s it called?”

“The Methodist Methodology Faithful Unisex Church of the Brothers of Jesus,” said Kelly. “MMFUCBJ for short.”

“You mean unitarian, right?” asked Jecka.

“No, I meant unisex. Like the bathroom.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” said Emily.

“You’ve never heard of a unisex bathroom?”

“No, I mean your church. Where is it?”

“It’s on Park avenue. Right next to the Staples. Can’t miss it.”

“That’s a fucking bowling alley,” said Jecka. “Kelly, that’s not a church. It’s a bowling alley.”

“I dunno, have you seen how many guys in cheap polos pray before they try really hard to make a twelve-pound piece of plastic knock over ten different pieces of plastic?” said Nicole. “That sounds like a church to me.”

“Just because people pray in it a lot, doesn’t make it a place of worship. You wouldn’t say that about a casino or a cruise liner,” argued Kelly. “Besides, my church is in the basement of the bowling alley.”

“Wow.” Emily whistled and sat up straight. “Okay, Kelly, I’m pretty sure that’s a cult.”

“It’s definitely a cult,” agreed Nicole. “Creepy name, skeevy location, sexed-up belief system, probably murder-suicidey. Don’t drink the kool-aid.” She shrugged. “Or do. I’m not your boss.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kelly snickered because apparently it was funny that all of them had twisting faces of horror. “Do you think I’m that dumb? I figured out it was a cult when I was ten.”

“Then why are you still a part of it?” asked Jecka, very carefully. “Are—are you a hostage or something?”

“No, silly, I’m not a hostage.” Kelly’s smile started to stretch. “My parents and entire extended family are! Kind of. It’s mostly that if I leave the church, they…” She sighed. “Won’t come with me.”

“Oh. Okay. Wow, Kelly, I am so sorry—”

“And I kind of love having an excuse to be this much of a slut! Did you know it’s not an addiction if God supports it? I just learned that the other day!” chirped Kelly, brightening right back up. “It feels really nice not to have any shame or guilt or anything negative about any of it.”

“That does sound nice,” agreed Emily. “If only I didn’t hate bowling…”

“Don’t cults normally take all of the money and stuff from their members?” asked Nicole, putting way too many pieces together all at once. “Oh my God, your house is a cult compound, isn’t it? That’s why it’s so huge, and the glassed in pool is—Jesus, is that a crazy baptismal pool?” She frowned. “Kelly, have you been inviting people over for ragers and baptizing them without them knowing it?”

“No, of course not, Nicole,” said Kelly. “I don’t know how to perform those.”

“But your house is a cult compound?”

“Well, yeah. It kind of needs to be. My parents are the leaders of the cult. How do you think we got so rich?”

“Nevermind, Kelly, I still hate you,” grumbled Jecka, her eyes dragging across the plastic table until they landed back on Nicole. “Hey, wait, what the—what the fuck was that in class? I almost forgot!”

“Yeah, yeah, there was goss.” Emily smiled. “C’mon, let’s hear it.”

“Nothing all that interesting. I just accidentally made what was apparently a half decent joke while trying to tear down Mr. Burleday, and didn’t get kicked out of class.” Nicole took another massive bite of her sandwich. “It did feel bizarre, though,” she said, her mouth still completely full. “I didn’t learn shit, but I could get used to not having to walk the like two miles a day I clock just by getting shoved around the school to different authority figures.”

“Okay, you know that’s not what I meant,” stressed Jecka. “Nicole! The other thing.”

“What other thing? Wait, what else happened?”

“You told Jeffery you’d fuck him,” whispered Jecka, keeping her head low. “If he sucked Kylar’s dick and let him fuck him.”

“Holy shit,” giggled Emily, covering her mouth as her face lit up in glee. “Holy shit. You are the most insane bitch ever.”

“Woah, when are they doing that?” asked Kelly. “Can I watch?”

“They’re not actually going to do it, you dumb ho.”

“Yes, they totally are.”

“Wow, so I wasn’t daydreaming and actually said that.” Nicole shrugged. “By that logic, the whole idea is probably exactly as awesome as it sounds in my head.”

“As long as you haven’t totally lost your mind, then whatever,” said Jecka. “What were you thinking? Were you—”

“No, no, no, no, obviously, I’m not going to fuck him. Or do anything. Ever.” Nicole took another bite. “That’s not the point.”

“Bitch, I know that! Why did you try and goad him into having sex with Kylar?”

“Would you believe…” Nicole swallowed her bite and held up a finger. “That I was channeling Emily?”

“That’s so hot,” said Emily. “I was channeling you last period.”

“You were? For what—nevermind, let’s leave that a fun mystery.”

“You get me.”

“I do? I mean—yeah, duh.”

“Oh my God, that was probably the worst way to start any explanation.” Jecka buried her head in her hands. “No offense, Emily.”

“No, I get it.” Emily shrugged. “Crazy risky is hot, but typically that’s not what you want to hear all the time.”

“Yeah, you’re going to fucking die, Nicole,” stressed Jecka.

“No, I’m not.” Nicole waved her off. “There’s zero risk on my end.”

“What if he goes through with it? What then?”

“Then you’ll get to watch two guys make out and fuck,” said Kelly. “It’s really hot. Nicole’s totally doing all of us a public service.”

“Hey, at least one of you sees the light,” said Nicole, genuinely having no idea in what possible way she was doing anything positive since she already forgot what that might have been. “What’s that light, exactly? Asking for myself and all of my friends.”

“It’s just really cool, Nicole. Haven’t you ever watched gay porn?”

“Which kind of gay?”

“The guy kind?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“You should! It’s awesome.”

“Is it actually?” asked Nicole, turning back to Jecka. “Is any porn actually good?”

“I mean…” Jecka shrugged. “It’s like…it’s fine. Some of it is actually better than the straight stuff, Kelly’s kinda right.”

“Yeah, and that’s why they’re totally going to go through with it,” insisted Kelly. “Because they know that, too!”

“There’s no way they do it,” snickered Emily. “No way. No fucking way.”

“Oh, I’m betting they will. Jeffery’s obsessions know no bounds.” Nicole nodded. “See, if he actually goes through with it, both he and Kylar know for sure if they’re straight or not.” She took another bite, finishing the sandwich. “When he comes back demanding his ‘reward’, I tell him to fuck off, and remind him that he is not a virgin anymore.”

“Why would Kylar even agree to that?” asked Jecka. “You didn’t promise to fuck him.”

“Honestly, I just picked a random dude’s name off the top of my head. I dunno. He’s super closeted. That’s probably enough.”

“Okay, but what if Kylar murders Jeffery for asking, Nicole?” asked Jecka. “What if a bunch of other guys beat them both to death? Literally gay bash them?”

“Why would that ever happen? Nobody here did that to Ari.” Nicole blinked. “Oh, right, they burned her house down. Well, those were a bunch of crazy homophobes. Isolated incident.”

“Weren’t we just talking about how horrible guys are about this stuff like two weeks ago?” reminded Emily.

“That’s kinda their bullshit to unpack, not ours.”

“It is, but—” Jecka paused. “Yeah, I don’t think I care enough about what happens to them to really argue this anymore.”

“See? You get it. Win-win-win.” Nicole rested her chin in her hand and absently scanned the rest of the cafeteria. “I wonder if I could start a trend. If I offered that to every guy in school, how many do you think would go through with it?”

“I don’t know. This seems like a really terrible idea. What’s the best case scenario here? Every single guy in the school fucks each other, runs back to you...” Jecka sighed and crossed her arms. “And then all of them are not only pissed off because you rejected them, but because you manipulated them into having sex with a guy they didn’t want to have sex with!”

“Yeah, that’s like—” Emily chuckled awkwardly. “Those are some unholy damnation levels of anger.”

“Mhmm. Calvin A. Hobbes 21:9.” Kelly nodded weirdly sagely. “Like, literally raped to death.”

“Okay, if you know it’s a cult, why are you quoting the fake proverbs?” asked Emily. “Are any of them even good?”

“Yeah. They are. That’s why I quote them, and it’s not like anyone aside from like, Megan, or whoever else, even notices they’re not from their bible,” scoffed Kelly. “‘Let the vengeance of a thousand scorned men take what is owed to them, lest they fall forever into the depravity of despair.’”

“That’s kinda badass if you’re using ‘men’ in the generic sense,” said Nicole. “Guessing you’re not.”

“I actually am.”

“Cool.” Nicole chewed on her cheek. “Hey—”

“Nicole, you are not joining a fucking cult!” snapped Jecka. “And seriously, don’t try to pull this on anyone else. This is a horrible idea and it is going to literally get you murdered in one of the worst ways possible.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.” Nicole sighed and blew a raspberry. “Party pooper. I won’t keep the fun going. I’ll just see what happens with this one time, so—yeah, okay, way harder to trace back to me. But if it’s awesome, and I’m right, they will never bother any of us ever again.”

“Why?” asked Emily. “Why would this stop anything?”

“It’s more fun if it’s a surprise.”

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

The only thing her meds were accomplishing was, the more she thought about it, pushing that more into the limelight. Presenting it as a very attractive alternative to doing literally anything else. Because then she’d never have to do literally anything else ever again. Wasn’t that such a nice idea?

She could go home, run a bath, and—

“Nicole,” boomed Jecka, snapping her cell closed and crossing her arms in a huff. And there go that inevitable spiral of thoughts, again. Burned away by those piercing amber-hazel eyes and the voice of—well, not an angel. Jecka was prettier. “I hate 24,” she grumbled. “Worst and dumbest thing ever.”

“The number?” Nicole looked up from her Sidekick, the stale air of the courtyard oddly calming in a ‘we dumped sanitation chemicals everywhere instead of using a rake’ kind of way. “You’re going to need to break that one down for me.”

“No, the TV show.” Jecka looked back at her expectantly. “24? There’s no way you haven’t heard of it.”

“I’ve seen commercials, but I’ve never watched it.” Nicole shrugged. “That’s the one where it all takes place in real time or something, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s so terrible.” Jecka groaned and stomped over to her, choosing to stand over her instead of sit for some reason. “It’s like they’re not even trying to actually write a story where they keep to the basic idea of the show.”

“But the show is called 24.” Nicole furrowed her brow. “Is it not about a whole day? What’s it not doing?”

“No, each episode is about an hour long, and there are twenty-four of them in a season. So, that part they did right.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“There’s just no elegant or classy way to say this, so…” Jecka sighed. “How many times a day do you have to poop, Nicole?”

“I dunno, like, once?” Nicole briefly felt confused as to why she had zero reaction to that kind of question before remembering that Jecka had asked it. Why would that ever bother her? “Sometimes twice?”

“Mhmm, and so do most people ever.” Jecka frowned. “They never poop on 24.”

“Jecka, everyone’s had days like that.” Nicole slouched. “That’s unusual, but it’s not that weird.”

“Sure, but have you ever gone a whole day without peeing?” asked Jecka, sitting down beside her, and super close. “There’s no way you have. It’s just not possible.”

“Pretty sure my bladder would explode if I tried that,” agreed Nicole, taking more note of how close Jecka was. Did she do that on purpose? Wasn’t bothering her but it was definitely closer than normal. Or maybe it wasn’t and Nicole just hadn’t been paying attention. “I don’t think anyone can do that.”

“They can on 24!” Jecka huffed. “They don’t even need to eat!”

“What kind of show is this?” snickered Nicole. “Why is it important that they go to the bathroom or have lunch?”

“It’s, like, an action series, I guess?”

“And there’s just no downtime to take a piss or shove, like, a granola bar in their mouth?”

“Apparently not!”

“And the whole premise is about something happening in real time, over twenty-four actual hours?”

“That’s what I thought it was supposed to be, yeah.”

“But it’s just not.”

“No.” Jecka shook her head. “Not even a little.”

“Wow.” Nicole took a moment to fully grasp everything she had just learned. “That show sounds really fucking stupid.”

“It is! I hate it.” Jecka groaned and pouted. “My parents love it, and it is alllll they’ve been talking about since the writer’s strike ended. They made this stupid made-for-TV movie and I had to watch it with them because it like, tells the story between season seven and eight—why would I give a fuck about that? Watching more 24 isn’t going to make me start loving 24!”

“You need your own TV.”

“Bitch, I don’t need my own TV, I need TV to be better!” Jecka pointed at herself. “TV should try and meet me where I’m at, not the other way around.” She threw up her hands. “Why are we letting some asshole guy in Hollywood coast on bad storytelling because, oh, it’s not like there’s anything else on?”

“Holy shit, you really hate 24, don’t you?”

“Everything about it is a lie and I don’t like it when you promise me one thing, and you give me a different thing, and the thing you gave me isn’t even interesting. It just suuuuucks!” Jecka groaned. “It’s also super racist.”

“Okay, I think maybe you should have led with that?”

“No, that’s how dumb the writing is. The racism is less gross than the story itself.”

“That sounds almost impossibly horrible.” Nicole blinked and had an idea that seemed less crazy and random the more she sat with it. “Do you want me to watch it so we can hate it together?”

“No, Nicole, you shouldn’t have to suffer, too.” Jecka turned away for about half a second before snapping back with a smile. “I’m a lying bitch, yes, I would really love that, thank you.”

“Cool. So, is there a marathon or something soon, or should I just pirate it?”

“My parents bought the DVDs, yeah, they’re those people, so it could be like, a lot of bad movie nights.”

“Yeah, okay—ah, goddamnit.” Nicole scowled at Jeffery as he came sauntering right up to them, with the most vile and discomforting confidence in human history. He looked all flushed and sweatier than usual. An oddly familiar glow. ”Turn around right now, Jeffery, and I’ll consider not replacing the acne cream you never use with liquid cement.”

“Why would you threaten that if he never uses it?” asked Jecka, her eyes brightening a moment later. “Ohhhh! So, when he eventually does, he gets a face full of concrete—okay, that’s pretty good.”

“I wasn’t even thinking of the wordplay; that was off-the-cuff.” Nicole shrugged and went back to glowering at Jeffery. “I see someone chose not to listen—”

“I did it!” boasted Jeffery, with the weirdest, grossest, most confusing smile. “I did exactly as you asked, Nicole.”

“I didn’t ask you to do fucking anything, you disgusting little bitch. In what reality would I ever—” Nicole slowly glanced at Jecka, who was palming her face. “I’m forgetting something, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” stressed Jecka. “You are.”

“Remind me.”

“Two hours ago, you promised him that if he had sex with Kylar—”

“Oh, right, yeah, now I remember.” Nicole’s eyes widened as she looked back at Jeffery. “Wow. Look at you. You—nah, I call bullshit. No way you actually did it.”

“I did!” whined Jeffery. “I absolutely did!”

“I don’t think any guy would lie about this, Nicole,” whispered Jecka. “I think he really did it.”

“Good point.” Nicole hated that she actually felt a little impressed. Oh, wow, that’s why he was flushed. He just finished up. Don’t vomit from that mental image. Keep it together. “You actually did it.”

“Yes, I did!” boasted Jeffery, puffing out his concave chest like a crushed bird, instantly ruining the moment. “What do you have to say to that, Nicole?”

“Where do I even begin?” Nicole raised a brow. “Hm. Yeah, so, how’d it feel?” she asked, forcing a smirk. “How’d Kylar feel, Jeffery?”

“It—uhm…”

“It?”

“He—he felt good.”

“Yeah, he did? He felt good?”

“Y—yes.”

“Thought so.” Nicole shrugged. “Well. Congrats, I guess.”

“Wow, you took in the ass before I ever did,” said Jecka. “I’m not planning on fixing that, but, I mean, I can think of a bunch of girls who would be pretty jealous.”

“You’re not going to mock me for…” Jeffery stammered and Nicole almost regretted the overwhelming urge to kick him in the balls. “Doing that?”

“Nope,” said Nicole, frowning. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“That’d be really shitty,” agreed Jecka. “What would we even tease you for? Having sex? The thing we teased you for not having done?”

“Really? You mean it?” asked Jeffery, that stupid light of hope shining like a dumb, loser, star…comet, bullshit thing in his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because we’re not fucking homophobes?” Nicole scoffed and waved him off. “I don’t give a shit who you want to fuck as long as it’s not a kid and not me or Jecka.”

“Oh. Okay. So—hey, wait a minute!”

“I’m not touching you.”

“What?! But you said—”

“How many times do we have to go over this?!” snapped Nicole, shooting out of her seat and trying to tower over him. “I will never fuck you! How are you so goddamn stupid to fall for this shit every single time!” she snarled. “But hey, at least this time, I helped you out, because guess who isn’t a virgin anymore?” She shoved him away, and instantly wished she hadn’t because her hands were somehow immediately greasy. “You.”

“I still am with girls!”

“Who fucking cares?! You still feel him inside your ass, right? Does that feel like virginity to you? Or does it feel like you’ve had sex with someone your age, and you liked it, and you can move the fuck on.” Nicole wiped her hands off on the back of Jecka’s jacket, and the startled dancing she did was actually kind of adorable. “Literally nobody will ask if you fucked a girl, and if they do ask, just tell them you had sex with a guy.”

“Yeah, that is a left field power move,” added Jecka. “Anybody you’re talking to is at least going to consider fucking you after a response like that.” She crossed her arms. “If I wasn’t already physically repulsed by your entire existence, I’d actually think about it.”

“Same goes for me,” said Nicole. “Except, once again, I do know you and will never fuck you.”

“Really?” gasped Jeffery. “You mean it?”

“Yes! Just not me! Not ever me, so you can finally leave me and Jecka the fuck alone!”

“Hey, you know what, I think you’re right!” beamed Jeffery. “You’re making a lot of sense. Any girl who finds out I did that will know that I’m super confident in myself because I didn’t even try to hide my sexuality.”

“Making a ton of assumptions, but, like, yeah, sure.” Jecka shrugged. “Kinda meant there’s a lot of girls who wouldn’t turn down pegging you out of curiosity, but close enough.”

“Close enough is more than enough.” Jeffery smiled and smiled and he just would not stop smiling. “You are absolutely, totally right, Nicole.”

“Am I just not even here anymore?” mumbled Jecka. “I’m actually loving this invisibility.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right, you sweaty little bitch,” scoffed Nicole. “I know I’m right.”

“You sure are!” Jeffery then turned and ran off. “Thanks Nicole!”

“Wait, shit, fuck, I wasn’t trying to be nice!” Nicole scowled. “I—goddamnit, fine. Whatever. Incidental good deeds still count for something, right?”

“That wasn’t even close to that,” snickered Jecka. “How do you think he got Kylar to agree to that?”

“Wow, I completely forgot Kylar was a part of this equation at all. He clearly didn’t murder Jeffery, so—” Nicole raised her brows as they both got a text from Emily, which was just ‘lmfao’ and ‘omfg hahahahahaha’ over and over again. “I’m not reading all of this.”

“Just skip to the bottom—ugh, I’ll read it to you.” Jecka’s eyes widened. “Woah, okay, so the short version for Kylar is that he’s already started calling everything stupid ‘straight’ instead of ‘not straight’.”

“Oh, he’s a rapist and plagiarist. I started saying that when I was with Ari, this is bullshit,” Nicole sighed. “We can probably still steal it back from him—no, wait, reclaim it.”

“Yeah, probably—oh.” Jecka poked Nicole a few times until she turned around to see Kylar sprinting into the courtyard. “We need to stop hanging out in places surrounded by windows.”

“Agreed.”

“Sup, Nicole, Jecka,” said Kylar, suspiciously without an insult, jogging in place. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Kylar?” Jecka’s face twitched, almost like she wasn’t even sure if Kylar was still his name. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

“He’s just stretching his legs after a good workout.” Nicole tilted her head. “Heard you fucked Jeffery while he was conscious.”

“Damn right I did! I thought it was gonna be straight, but it totally wasn’t!” whooped Kylar. “You probably haven’t heard yet, but the new word for—”

“We heard, ‘straight’ for ‘not straight’, and that’s not new, but whatever.” Jecka raised her brows. “Also, that was, like, accurate?”

“Niiice! Didn’t think that’d spread so fast.” Kylar kept jogging in place. “Anyway, yeah, we totally did it. All of the ways. We made such a huge mess of the locker room that Coach Colby had to kick us out.”

“Yeah, bet you tore the place up just going at each other, right?” asked Nicole, smirking.

“You know it!”

“Wow.” Jecka cleared her throat and grimaced. “The overwhelming pride here is so weird.”

“Huh?” Kylar audibly blinked. Somehow. Like a fucking cartoon from the thirties. “I thought I was supposed to have pride.”

“Not that kind of pride, you fucking dipshit, the—” Nicole stopped herself and wrinkled her nose. “Actually, yes, that specific kind of pride, Kylar. You…are? I think?”

“Okay, well, catch ya on the flipside!” Kylar ran right past them with a wave. “I gotta do another twenty-eight laps!”

“No one says that anymore!” said Nicole, before realizing that he was well outside of earshot. “Wow, has he always run that fast?”

“He was faster before he got hurt Sophomore year.” Jecka watched him leave and slowly turned back to Nicole. “Uhm. Nicole?”

“Still with you.”

“Did you just get two guys to literally fuck the machismo out of each other?”

“Sure seems that way, yeah.”

“I don’t even understand how that’s possible.”

“Easy.” Nicole flipped her hair. “I’m really pretty.”

Jecka stared at her.

“Look, it’s either that or magic, and I don’t know nearly enough fake ass Latin or whatever bullshit language those Harry Potter assholes keep spewing to convincingly fake knowing spells and charms and whatever, okay?”

“True. You’re not goth enough to pass as a Wiccan or a regular witch, either.” Jecka chewed on her cheek and eyed her carefully. “I guess that means you’re ‘pretty enough’ to manipulate two guys into being better people.”

“Yeah. Weird.” Nicole shrugged. “Not like I thought it’d work this well.”

“I know, but, like, why did you even think of this at all? I’m not saying this was a nice thing to do, but it wasn’t exactly—”

“Evil?”

“Exactly. It wasn’t. It was just—chaotic? It was chaotic.”

“Kinda see what you mean…” Nicole rested her head on her arms and yawned. “Well, I…I don’t really know why I thought of it. I guess I was probably trying to cut out the problem at the source, so the best way to get them to leave us alone would be to pawn off their bullshit onto each other instead of us.”

“It might’ve actually worked.”

“It’s not going to take. Kylar’s going to come down from that high, and then tell everyone he was lying or it was a prank or however else jocks cover up their gay shit. And then Jeffery will tell everyone it was a joke, and literally nobody will care, because nobody gives a fuck about him.

“Or maybe it’ll take. Maybe things will actually get a teensy bit better.”

“They—yeah. Yeah, maybe, I guess.”

“I’m not saying I think it’s likely. It just…it could happen.”

“It could.” Nicole sat up and looked at Jecka. Who kept looking at her. Waiting for her to do or say something. But, what, though? What was she forgetting now—oh. “You want to hear me give the meds credit, don’t you?”

Jecka smiled and nodded.

“You are such a smug bitch.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re pretty enough to get away with it.”

“I know. Say it. Let me hear those magic words of me being super right.”

“Yeah, the meds are probably part of it, okay? I’m not suddenly some altruistic born again bitch, though, so don’t expect anything like that to ever happen again.”

“I don’t care that you might’ve helped them, Nicole.” Jecka sat down beside her again. “I’m just saying that you seem less miserable.”

“I do?” Nicole hadn’t even realized it, but, yeah. Life didn’t feel quite so shitty as it used to. “Wow. You’re right.”

“Good. I’m glad I wasn’t imagining that.”

“How would you even know what to look for?” asked Nicole, raising a brow. “No, actually, how could you imagine I was less miserable?

“Hoping really, really, really fucking hard, Nicole.”

Day twenty-five wasn’t supposed to be important. Aside from it being the last Wednesday of February, it wasn’t supposed to be memorable. And that was only memorable because of all of the shit that had happened with Jeffery and Kylar. Really, just supposed to be a day like any other, but no, Nicole’s mom just had to fucking ‘check in’ to see how she was doing after basically ignoring her for the better part of the month outside of half-assed ‘how are you feeling, sweetie?’ she’d throw around whenever she or Nicole came home.

Couldn’t just drop her entirely yet, though, no. Mom’s insurance paid for everyone’s pills in their house, and as much as Nicole continued to resist the counseling she was getting shoved at, that fucking quack was really good at tricking her into talking just a few more words every time. It had gotten to the point where Nicole kind of didn’t even know why she was still fighting her.

That didn’t mean she was going to stop clawing tooth and nail for her right to stay fucked up and private, but, yeah, she’d kinda lost most of the motivation or reason to do that aside from spite. Which was a very powerful force, so she could probably keep it up until she moved out or at least got a job with half-decent health insurance.

“Well?” asked Mom, not even letting Nicole five feet into the house before starting the ‘conversation’ she probably didn’t even want to have. “How are things going?”

“I’m taking my meds. Got them refilled early, too.” Nicole tossed her backpack onto the couch. “Count the pills and check the date on the label if you don’t believe me. I don’t care.”

“Are they…” Mom hesitated because she probably forgot how to talk to people who weren’t middle-aged men who wanted to fuck her. “Helping?”

Honestly, Nicole still had no idea if they were helping. She wasn’t as tired, but the only time anything seemed remotely ‘better’ was when she was talking to Jecka, and that was still super minimal. Subtle. She still drowned out a lot of ideation, yeah, but there were…a few times, in the last day or so, when Nicole thought she felt something else.

Something she wanted to feel again but could only vaguely remember the haziest concept of what that feeling even was, let alone called. It wasn’t happiness. More like satisfied silence? Which made no fucking sense, because Jecka still hadn’t stopped talking. Kinda.

Wasn’t as intensive and all-consuming as those first clump of days, but Jecka did have a knack of making herself known and loud right before or just as Nicole’s thoughts began to spiral. It’d be spooky and creepy if it were anyone else managing that.

“You tell me,” said Nicole. “Notice anything different about my behavior? You’re my mom, so you should be able to tell instantly, right?”

“Your psychiatrist told me that most of the initial differences would be things I might not be able to see, Nicole.” Mom crossed her arms, as if that were some amazing response to respect and not clearly repeated word for word from some pamphlet she read. “That this will affect you internally long before the rest of us see anything.”

“I think, since you’re my mom, you should still be able to pick up on literally any of that real fast.”

“I can’t read your mind, Nicole. I want us to be able to talk to each other more openly.”

“No, you don’t.” Nicole sighed. “Why are you even asking? You don’t care.”

“I’m your mother, of course I care!”

“You’re right. You do care. You really want me to be ‘fixed’ so you don’t have to deal with me anymore, because I’m a whole pain in your ass to manage and parent, right?” spat Nicole. “I’m just too much and not worth the effort unless I’m drugged up and docile.”

“Nicole!” Mom frowned at her. Scary. Oooooh. So scary and serious. “I love you, and I just want to see you happy. That’s all any parent ever wants.”

Nicole, in the moments between breaths, realized that if she hadn’t been on her meds, she would not have felt compelled to deconstruct that entire concept. Rip her mom apart and douse that lie in napalm until all that was left were screaming, wailing, pleas to make it all stop. Expose it to the open air, get it infected, watch it fester, kill it again, and again, and again, because that is all she has ever done to her.

Watch in silence. Ignore her. Dismiss her. Yeah, you think you can keep doing that forever, right? So comfy in that delusion? Not anymore, because her mom was not going to get any fucking credit for anything about Nicole. Good or bad, happy or monstrous, it didn’t matter.

She gave birth and that was where Nicole had wished her involvement ended.

“How many times have I tried to kill myself, mom?” asked Nicole, as casually as she could manage, because her confidence was shaking way more than she expected. “Wanna take a wild guess?”

“Nicole! This isn’t the time for—”

“Oh, it is. It really fucking is. You want us to talk more ‘openly’? Sure. Let’s do that right now.” Nicole clenched her teeth. “How many times have I done all the set-up, written the note, made sure nobody would be around, covered every base, disconnected the phone lines…” She took a breath. “And decided not to? How many times, mom?”

Mom stared at her, eyes wide with fear. Yeah. Not surprised.

”Woah, slow down there. Don't scramble for an answer or anything that might validate me.” Nicole frowned. “Think about how I’ll feel if you guess wrong.”

“This is a sick game, Nicole.” Mom sighed. “This is—it’s sick.”

“Take your time. I can probably wait long enough to find a different reason to get up tomorrow.”

“If you weren’t so secretive, maybe I’d have an actual answer!”

“I don’t talk to you because every time I do—” Nicole clenched her fists. “You never hear me. You’re not even hearing me right now. Nothing I’m saying is anything you’ll ever listen to.”

“That’s not true, Nicole. I’m sorry you feel that way, but—”

“All you’ve ever done is look at me like I’m the one fucking up. Like everything I do and say is a mistake that is my fault. That it’s all bullshit.” Nicole swallowed. “Even if it is all totally made up, which it isn’t, did you ever once stop and think about why I keep circling back to killing myself? That maybe there was something else wrong?”

“You just want attention, Nicole. That’s all you ever want.” Mom covered her face with her hand. “For God’s sake, it’s the same tactic as you crying wolf since you were twelve.”

“Saying I was raped and molested is crying wolf? That’s what we’re calling that now?”

“When it doesn’t actually happen?! Yes!”

“Right. Sorry, I totally forgot about how that didn’t happen. That I made it all up.” Nicole kept staring at her. When nobody believes anything you say, what’s the point of the truth? “Everything, every time, it’s all been one big lie.”

“Sweetie, please talk to me.”

“I just did. You just proved my point.”

“All I heard were excuses.”

“I’m sure you did.” Nicole knew she should just walk away, spout some bullshit, and go up to her room. It wasn’t worth it. It never would be. But it was just too fucking much to stop that time. “You really want to talk to me? You actually want to know what I’m thinking?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Okay.”

“Thank—”

“I wish I’d watched you blow your brains out instead of dad,” said Nicole, as flatly as she could. “He was a piece of shit, too, but you know what? I’d still rather have him instead of you, mom.”

“You—” Mom scowled at her, her entire head turning red as spit flew from her lips, fingers and arms twitching at her sides. “You ungrateful, selfish, heartless bitch!”

“Hey, look, you’re actively screaming and berating a suicidal teenage girl who happens to be your daughter.” Nicole shrugged. “You’re heartless. I don’t know what you wanted me to be, but I’m not sorry that I’m not whatever that is.”

“Unbelievable.” Mom cooled off and gave her a knowing look. “I don’t know why I expected anything different from you.”

“I do. It’s because my shrink told you to say that you did.”

“See? That confirms it.” Mom tsked. “You’re high.”

“Nope.” Nicole shook her head. “We can’t blame anything on drugs right now. I'm taking my meds, and nothing else, and I hate I it, but that means I’m sober.”

“Sure, of course.” Mom rolled her eyes. “You’re actually sober.”

“I am! How—how is it fucking possible that you think I’m lying literally no matter what I say to you?!”

“It’s a mystery.” Mom sighed and snapped her finger up the stairs. “Room.”

“What—”

“Room, right the fuck now, Nicole, or you are out on the street!” boomed Mom. “I have a date to prepare for, and we will discuss this tomorrow morning.”

“Am I even a person to you? You want me to sit alone in my room. What part of suicidal do you not get?”

“Now, Nicole!”

Nicole gave up and climbed the stairs. She stopped at the landing. Glaring down at her shoes, her gut, heart, and throat twisting with so much rage that she almost smashed her head against the wall just to vent something. Instead…

You know what? Fuck all of this. Mom wanted honesty. May as well make her regret that.

“It was eighteen,” growled Nicole, turning around to glare down her nose. “I’ve gotten that far eighteen times. You have never fucking noticed.”

“See? For attention. You wanted me to notice.” Mom scoffed and waved her off. “Even if that were true, how would I ever know?”

“You’d know if you cared!” snapped Nicole. “You’d know if you ever even half-assed being my mom! But, no, you had to be the one who didn’t fucking shoot themself. You had to live.”

“What does that—”

“Dad noticed! Dad saw! Dad fucking knew! When I was fourteen, the Saturday before high school started, I was staying with him, remember? He walked in on me. Forgot to lock the door.” Nicole couldn’t stop talking. She should. She needed to. She didn’t want to, but she did, and she didn’t, and it just—it fucking hurt. “Said he didn’t understand why I wanted to die. But that understanding really wasn’t important right then. He just didn’t want me to die. I stopped. That’s all it ever takes, and you have never done even that.”

“That’s not what happened, Nicole,” groaned Mom. “Your father told me you had a horrible evening after a boy got too handsy with you. Who are you trying to fool here?”

“Dad fucking lied to you! He lied to you to cover for me! Because even he knew you didn’t give a shit, and you’d call me an overdramatic liar, acting out for attention, and then I really would kill myself on Sunday. And he was right. I would’ve. If I heard that from you, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Your father wasn’t some sort of superhero saint, Nicole! He cheated on me, stole from me, stole from everyone—”

“I don’t need someone who’s perfect! I just need someone who cares if I live or die, and he did.”

“That’s a very engaging story you have. He killed himself, Nicole, and blamed his daughter. Are you done?”

“Yeah.” Nicole nodded. “I’m done.”

“You’re…” Mom looked at her, really looked at her, for about half a second, before her eyes stopped seeing her all over again. “You’re not going to try and commit suicide while I’m out, are you?”

“If I said yes, would you stay home?”

“This is how I know you just want attention, Nicole.” Mom scoffed and walked away. “You always make everything some sort of grand trial or test that no one has any hope of passing.”

“You pass if you’re not a rapist or a pedophile or a murderer or a worthless piece of shit!” Nicole bit her lip, her chest tightening. She was yelling at nobody. “Lowest bar there is and you don’t even come close to clearing it.”

There it was. Indisputable, absolute proof that mom did not care if she lived or died. Wasn't just a really damn good guess anymore. Maybe she wanted her to die so she wouldn’t have to deal with Nicole anymore. Maybe she only hadn’t murdered her in her sleep because she wasn’t confident she could get away with it.

Would be pretty fitting if she locked herself in her room and killed herself. Just do it. Get it over with. Teach her a lesson she won’t learn. Give her exactly what she wants, and fade into nothing. That’s all you really are. All you’ve ever been. Nobody left alive to miss you if you were gone, if that was ever even really a reason to live.

Dad’s been gone a while now. He probably had the right idea. What if that was the message he was trying to convey? Literally fuck off and die? No, he wasn’t that smart or subtle. He just wanted to die and managed to do it. Nicole could, too, right?

Was that courage or cowardice? Did it matter? Nope. Not if she was just gonna be dead—ugh.

Fuck that. Just put on some music, lie down, and maybe watch a movie. Oh, duh, she may as well keep watching 24. Not nearly caught up yet. Jecka probably wouldn’t mind if she watched a few episodes alone, especially considering how adorably frustrated she’d been getting the longer they watched it.

Yeah. Do that. It’s technically productive, and that dumb fucking show was always worth a chuckle. It was somehow worse than Jecka had described. She hated it.

Kinda loved watching it, though.

Nicole woke up the next morning with a massive headache and a tear stained pillow. Awesome. Meds were probably responsible for that. Made her a whiny bitch in every possible way. Wasn’t the clonazepam, so it had to be the lexapro. Side effects may include crying like a bitch.

She fucking hated lexapro for about three more seconds before she realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she cried that wasn’t forced to get out of doing shit. She wasn’t sad but she was still crying. She couldn’t stop. She had so much snot falling down her face that her morning routine was basically impossible. So, she gave up and sat on the floor of her room, and waited for it to stop.

It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel bad. Felt like she was still waking up, even though she was wide awake.

Took an hour, and by then her entire everything ached, because sobbing was a full body workout. One look at her face in the mirror had her giggling. Actually, sincerely, really giggling. She looked so fucking stupid. Like an actual, sincere, real, little whiny bitch. Not the cool kind, not the bad kind. Not the kind that didn’t care, and just did whatever she wanted, nope.

The pathetic loser who just got dumped, or something close to it. She wanted to tear the skin off of her own face, and for the first time in…a while, that thought disturbed her. Instead of it just passing in half a second, with a little note in the back of her brain labeled ‘yeah, pretty fucked up; use to freak people out later’, she picked at her neck and pulled, like a halloween mask, leaving a bruise that looked a lot like a hickey.

Okay. That was going to be a problem.

Probably easier to drink bleach, just really shotgun it, or steal the gun her brother stashed below his bed, make sure it was loaded, undo the safety like he taught her way too young, and blow her brains out alllll over mom to give her an unforgettable ‘rise and shine’. Failing that, she had like a million razor blades all over, since her mom for sure didn’t give a shit what she used them for, and go vertical for the first time.

That was always the problem. Horizontal’s for bitches who just want attention, so maybe mom was right all along. Too fucking bad, because Nicole was done with attention—ohhhhhhhhhhhkay, stop. Stop it. Stop.

Can’t stop. Fuck.

About a hundred other ideas flooded her brain, each one actually—they—she couldn’t ignore them. They weren’t just stuff that happened that she could shrug and think ‘being suicidal sure is exhausting’ because now she kinda felt shit and fear and desire and hunger were things to feel. Was it supposed to hit her all at once?! Fuck, maybe it was, or maybe Nicole was that backed up on her sociopathic bullshit drama that she did this to herself.

What happened to it taking a month or two?! If it was one month, just say one! Oh God, this wasn’t even the bad part yet, was it? Just a clearing of the sinuses after thirty-ish days coupled with being pincushioned by tiny little needles of vague guesses at a whole lot of things she hadn’t felt in forever. But, compared to nothing, even a tiny bit was beyond overwhelming.

Nicole couldn’t take it. Too much. Not worth it.

What was she even thinking? Trying medication. Trying at all. Fucking idiot. Absolutely worthless piece of shit. Why was she even delaying and dragging her feet? She finally had the energy to make it all just fucking stop, to rest, never have to deal with anyone or anything ever again, cut out all the pain, and she’s too much of a pussy to go through with it? All the more reason to finish the job and not fuck it up this time.

Only downside was that she’d never hear Jecka talk ever again.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nicole scrambled for her Sidekick, almost unable to breath, and punched in Jecka’s number because she kept fumbling with her contacts list. “Please pick up.” She did. “Something’s wrong with me,” she blurted. “I woke up crying like a bitch and I can’t—I can’t stop, uh—I can’t stop thinking.”

“Oh my God, Nicole, you sound really freaked out.”

“Yeah! I know! I am! I’m actually freaking out.” Nicole bit her lip and sat down on her bed. “I hate this.”

“Okay, I—I can pick you up and drive you to school? Would that—nope, even if it doesn’t help, I’m still doing it.”

“Thanks.” Nicole exhaled and looked out her window, resisting the urge to jump face first through the glass, making sure to cut open her neck on the way out. “I don’t think a bus is a good idea today. Buses are—” A thing she can jump in front of while it was picking up the middle school kids so the wheels crushed her neck just as the chassis lowered to let the wheelchair guy on. “Lame and I hate them.”

“Stay on the phone,” ordered Jecka, and Nicole wasn’t going to hang up. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“Why?” Nicole realized that her brother’s gun was probably still loaded, so there wouldn’t be any issues with finding ammunition even though he was still in prison. If she aimed just right, she could kill herself and mom at the same time. “Nevermind, I get why.”

“What are you doing, Nicole?!”

“I’m going back to the bathroom because I was crying too much to make myself look not like shit.” Nicole blinked as she heard the sound of pill bottles rattle, followed by a flush. “Fuck.”

“Nicole? What’s wrong?”

Nicole opened the bathroom door and the other door to the hallway slammed shut as soon as she did, the sound of her mom’s wobbly stomping telling basically the whole story alone. There was a note on the sink next to her emptied meds. Fresh red ink.

‘You’ll thank me for this later, sweetheart. I love you’, and then a big heart.

“My mom flushed my meds because she thinks I switched them out for oxy or something.” Nicole snorted into a bitter laugh. “She’s probably still drunk from her date last night!”

“That’s—that’s okay! That’s okay, I can drive you to the pharmacy and—”

“Not without a fresh scrip, and they will never believe my mom did this.” Nicole tore up the note and flushed that down the toilet. “She won’t believe it, either. She knows I can mimic her handwriting. I’m dead.”

“You’re not dead, Nicole.” Jecka sighed. “It’s just one day.”

“It’s not one day. It’s a month. This isn’t going to get refilled early! I just did that yesterday! They’ll think I sold it!” snapped Nicole, her hands turning white as she yelled into the phone. “You’re not supposed to go cold turkey on this shit, Jecka! It is really bad if you do! I could maybe manage if it was just the one but both is gonna kill me!”

“Can’t you just substitute with xanax or something?”

“You’ve felt the difference. What do you think?”

“Shit, you’re right. How much cash do you have?”

“I’m broke.”

“Okay. I need to make a few calls. Get dressed and meet me outside in like twenty minutes.”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t hang up!” stammered Nicole, waving her hand as if that would get Jecka’s attention. “Don’t hang up.”

“I don’t know how to do three-way calls on my cell, Nicole. I don’t even think I can! I—” Jecka threw something at a wall, and it shattered. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”

“Are you kidding me?! This really isn’t the best time, Jecka!”

“Yes, it fucking is, bitch!” stammered Jecka, the sound of clothes rustling and stomping on stairs making Nicole feel a little less scared. “It needs to be in person.”

“Nothing ever needs to be in person. That’s just a thing people say.”

“I don’t want you to misinterpret a single word—mom, I don’t have time for this! If you can’t keep track of your needles, then maybe you shouldn’t be shooting up! I have to go!”

“You need to talk to me in person,” repeated Nicole, holding her cell with both hands for dear life. “You actually need to do that?”

“Yes, Nicole. I need to talk to you in person, and in private.”

“Okay.” Nicole took a shaky breath. “Drive fast.”

“I can’t,” said Jecka, and Nicole’s heart sank. “If I get pulled over, I won’t get there at all.”

“Alright.” Nicole bit her lip as she began to feel the last dregs of the clonazepam slip from her fingers and edges of her brain, that swarm of locusts almost deafening as they spread further through her hollow bones and chest. “I’m not alright, but alright.”

“Promise you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

“I promise.” Nicole swallowed and let her head hang, resisting the urge to—to do a lot, beginning to shiver from actual withdrawal like some pathetic heroin addict. “Can we skip?”

“We can be late.”

“Seriously?!”

“I’m the one driving, Nicole! I can’t skip any more school for a while!”

“Fine.” Nicole hugged herself and couldn’t stop shivering, her eyes flicking to her bedroom door as she fully expected it to be kicked down by her dad so he— “This had better be a really important conversation, Jecka!”

“It is.” Jecka sighed, and the sound of her car was the single scariest thing Nicole had ever heard. “I have to hang up. Just trust me, okay? I’m going to help you.”

“Okay.” Nicole hung up first before Jecka had a chance to, buuut then she immediately called her back. “What the fuck kind of mixed messaging is this?!”

“I thought you were going to—it doesn’t matter what I thought, Jesus Christ, Nicole! Let me be the one to hang up!”

“Fuck, fine!” Nicole swallowed vomit as the line went dead. “Fuck.”

Nicole honestly had no idea how she managed to get dressed and ready for school in the state she was in. She skipped breakfast. She didn’t wake mom up and scream at her. All the stuff she needed to do, she did them, and nothing else. No extra shit. And that took about ten minutes of—of horrifying and agonizing tug-of-war with herself.

Then, she waited.

She wasn’t afraid to die. She really wished she was. That’d make the whole thing so much easier to deal with. Dying would mean she wouldn’t have to suffer through this bullshit—fuck, she’d already had that tangent! Okay, yeah, but it was still true.

What was she so scared of? Why was she still not just doing what she’d always said she’d do? What she’d failed to do over and over and over again because she couldn’t be bothered to give a shit if it worked or not? She had every chance, every single option, right in front of her. A house full of methods, and nobody would be able to stop her.

Oh, shit, duh. Nicole didn’t have a note! She’d written a ton of them before, but she’d always thrown them out when each attempt didn’t take. Something about using an old suicide note for a new attempt seemed really lazy and embarrassing. Like, what if she wrote one in middle school and tossed that on her desk when she was eighteen?

Not a good look and not how she wanted to go out. Wouldn’t even have Jecka in it, which was bullshit. There obviously needed to be a whole section about how this wasn’t her fault, how there was nothing she could have done, and how it wasn’t her fault, and also, duh, how it was not her fault.

Because it wasn’t Jecka’s fault Nicole was too much of a worthless bitch to stick around.

Should she write it by hand? With her own blood—no, that was a stupid fucking idea, and it never actually worked right. Always leaked through the loose-leaf, made a mess of everything that was impossible to explain, and the thicker paper she’d grabbed from school that one time just made it all smudge unless she used a threading needle or something, and that was such a bitch to use.

If she was into leatherwork, it might’ve been easier. Too bad she wasn’t. Those needles were way better for stabbing, too.

Probably best to use her computer. That way, if she said something really fucking stupid, she could just delete it instead of start over. Yeah, work smarter, not harder, bitch! Even if it was more impersonal—why the fuck did she care if it was impersonal?! She was going to be dead in like ten minutes! Was she still dragging her feet? What was the point of—

Nicole swallowed a terrified yelp and fumbled for her Sidekick again as it vibrated, and opened the text from Jecka without even thinking about it. A total mess of even worse spelling and grammar crap than normal, which probably meant she was texting while driving. Basically only six words weren’t gibberish.

‘Almst ther promsd w8 2 tlk.’

Jecka had said it was important. That she needed to talk to her. In person and in private.

Nicole wanted to die.

More than she ever had before. Stopping herself would be the single hardest thing she’d ever done, if she managed it. And, yeah. She did.

She stopped.

Nicole replied with ‘w8ing’, took a breath, and decided to, once again, keep her word.

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

Everything was sharp. Everything around Nicole was trying to kill her or scream at her or rape her or all of the above. So, just like it used to be, except now it was actually fucking terrifying. Was that how normal people always felt? How did they even function? Oh, right. Drugs!

Which she didn’t fucking have!

Focusing on anger was the only thing that seemed to help keep her above water. Just really getting as pissed off as she possibly could, focusing on visualizing and fantasizing the increasingly creative and violent ways she would take revenge on mom. Fill your stomach with rage and there was no room for fear, right?

Was that a turn of phrase? Why wasn’t it? It totally should be!

When Jecka finally pulled up to the house in her sedan, Nicole actually almost called her an angel, despite how shitty she looked in the driver’s seat. Her make-up wasn’t even half done, and her hair was a stringy mess. Still an angel. Best person ever.

Who else would willingly go to school looking like that?

“Hey? Hi.” Nicole scrambled into the passenger seat. “You’re—you’re a good friend, and I don’t say that, or act like it, and—”

“I get it, thanks.” Jecka shoved two prescription pill bottles into Nicole’s hands before she could get another word out. “That’s two week’s worth, mostly. You’ll have to ration it. The dosage is right for the lexapro, but a little more for the klonopin, but it’s something.” She took a shaky breath. “I didn’t have enough for the rest of the month. I’m sorry.”

“Holy shit.” Nicole closed the passenger side door and gaped down at the bottles, her fingers shaking. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I should’ve been able to get you all of it, Nicole.”

“You basically saved my life.” Nicole did some shitty math and realized it would be a bad idea to take anything right that second. “It’s enough, Jecka. Thank you.”

“It had fucking better be.” Jecka sighed and merged onto the main road, her eyes so sunken and red. “I didn’t think you’d be waiting outside.”

“Why not?” Nicole knew why not. She didn’t expect to be waiting outside, either. Easier to play dumb to keep herself distracted. “You said you had something to tell me and made me promise to listen.”

“I was panicking and that was the only thing I could think of to do.” Jecka quickly glanced at her. “We can be late to school.”

“I know.” Nicole buckled her seatbelt after realizing she was still fantasizing about diving out the door once they started going faster than thirty. “What did you, uh, want to tell me?”

“Before that, if you still die, Nicole, you cost me three grand.” Jecka squeezed the steering wheel as she merged back into the road. “I tried to just get you a full month of lexapro at first and that did not go well. Clonazepam went worse. Getting specific dosages out of the assholes that peddle prescription drugs like these is hard, especially when they can hear you panic.”

“You really spent all that much on me?” Nicole blanched. “Where did you even get three thousand dollars?

“I had a piggy bank. I was going to buy—I don’t know. It was going to be something cool. I guess I bought you instead.” Jecka blushed. “But not like that! Not in a way that’s—whatever, you know what I meant.”

“Yeah.” Nicole held the bottles very, very close. “Thanks. Again.”

“Don’t die and we’re even.” Jecka chewed on her cheek. “Take them, Nicole. There is a water bottle in the cup holder and that wasn’t an accident.”

“Unless I did my math wrong, to make it last a full month, I shouldn’t take anything today.”

“Fuck, you’re right.” Jecka slammed her fist onto the dash. “Fuck! I couldn’t even get enough to help you literally right now!”

“The fact that I have this for tomorrow is what’s important, Jecka.”

“Are you sure that that’s enough?” asked Jecka. “You’re totally positive?”

“March is going to be hell, but, yeah. I’m positive.”

“Okay. That’s something, at least.” Jecka looked at her again. “I—I kind of can’t believe you were waiting outside.”

“I can fix that.” Nicole pinched her Jecka’s arm. “I’m right here.”

“Ow. Thanks.” Jecka’s eyes sank into her head. “I was so sure you wouldn’t be.”

“If you hadn’t texted me, I don’t think I would have been,” admitted Nicole, barely above a whisper. “So, yeah. Good timing.”

“I had good timing?” Jecka shook, whimpered, bit her lip, and then exhaled, her breath steadying. “I had good timing.” She choked back a smile. “I had good—Jesus, Nicole…”

“Were you really that scared?”

“Yeah. I was. I didn’t want to do this all over again.”

“Again?” Nicole’s blood ran colder than it already did. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I’m just freaking out.”

“That sounded like the distinct opposite of nothing.”

“You have no idea how right you are.” Jecka shook her head. “You don’t even have the tiniest clue of what just happened, do you?”

“Aside from you saving my life and riding in on the clunkiest white horse I’ve ever seen? No, not really.”

“That sounded oddly normal for you.”

“Yeah, because I’m trying to sound okay, and it’s not as hard when it’s only just you.”

Nicole almost wished she was exaggerating, but the second she’d sat down next to Jecka, everything seemed a whole lot less corrosive. Like the early morning still-technically-winter air wasn’t sanding her skin down to the bone, just to the nerves. She wasn’t sweating as much, and the locusts weren’t pushing on the back of her eyes quite so hard.

She didn’t feel safe. Not exactly. Not really. She just didn’t feel in as much danger. Fight-or-flight? More like fight-and-flight. Nope. That didn’t work. Uh, shit, she needed to keep talking, or she’d start spiraling again. Jecka wasn’t talking. What was Jecka doing? Why wasn’t she talking?

Jecka was staring straight at the road, teeth grinding.

“Do you want me to ask what happened here?” piped up Nicole, stammering a little as she spoke way too fast. “I can ask that. I can ask a lot of things.”

“I don’t know,” whispered Jecka. “I don’t know what to do now other than keep doing what I’m doing.”

“Jecka, as long as you’re talking—I don’t care what you say, okay? Scream at me and chew me out. Just don’t stop. Please.” Nicole glanced at her. “What happened here? What don’t I know?”

“I wasn’t planning on actually talking about anything when you got in the car. If you got in the car.” Jecka sighed. “Just drop it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“So, kind of can’t drop it unless you have anything else to talk about, and it sounds like it really does matter.”

“Since when do you want people to talk about their shit, Nicole?” snipped Jecka, shooting her a look. “What happened to everyone swallowing it all down and dealing with it until it kills them?”

“Doesn’t apply to everything.” Nicole shook her pill bottles. “I really fucking hate how right some of that bullshit was, about talking, but it is. Sometimes. This seems like one of them.”

“Based on what? You freaking out if I stop talking?”

“Yes, and I’m pretty sure I watched you choke on a sentence just so you wouldn’t spit out the first word.”

“Whatever.” Jecka’s grip on the wheel loosened. “I can’t think of anything else to talk about.”

“Good a reason as any.”

“No, it’s really not,” grumbled Jecka. “Okay, so, has anyone ever—I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“Has anyone ever asked about whatever you’re bottling?”

“Nobody ever wanted to. That’s part of the whole problem. Not that you could ever really know—all of this was before you showed up.” Jecka huffed. “Or maybe you do know and you’ve been a giant, weirdly sensitive bitch about it.”

“I have no idea what you’re not talking about, okay? Will you just spit it out?”

“Fine! Has anyone ever mentioned—” Jecka bit her lip. “Rachel?”

“Never heard of her.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Jecka started to cry, her face scrunching up, but she choked back a sob after a few seconds. “I’m okay—I mean, I’m not. I can drive. I’m okay to drive.”

“Was…” Nicole swallowed. “She…your sister, or something?”

“No.” Jecka shook her head. “She was my best friend.”

“I thought Karen was your old best friend.”

“Yeah, and I got a new one after her. And that was Rachel,” growled Jecka. “This is really hard to talk about, Nicole.”

“Why? What’s the problem?”

“Because Rachel fucking killed herself between Sophomore and Junior year!” yelled Jecka, her face reddening as much as her eyes. “We left for break and she never came back!”

“What?” Nicole’s eyes widened and she stiffened. “What the fuck? You’ve never even—”

“What am I supposed to say? Maybe when I was high or drunk, sure, something slips out, but what is that conversation? What do I even say? ‘Hey, Nicole, I used to have this best friend, oh, no, sorry, you can’t meet her because she fucking killed herself, sorry!’” Jecka bit back a whimper. “Not like I can ever bring her up, anyway. You’d tune me out the second you found out she committed suicide.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” Nicole wanted to smack her head into the dashboard after thinking about that for two seconds longer. “Okay, I would’ve. Last thing I need is someone trying to constantly talk me down. I’ve had enough counselors and therapists and just fucking everyone touting that child psychology degree on their wall pull that ‘empathy’ bullshit with me.” She looked at Jecka, her chest tightening at how tense she looked, almost hunched over in the driver’s seat. “I think knowing me this well is unhealthy.”

“I can walk away whenever I want, Nicole. Sometimes, I almost do. I’d probably just come back, though. But, yeah, that’s why. Because I knew that’s how you’d see it. Half of what comes out of your mouth is how you want to die or how you’re going to kill yourself.” Jecka shook her head. “You don’t understand how much it hurts to hear that over and over again and know, that all you can do, all that they’ll let you do, the only thing you’ll let me do, is stand there and nod my head and hope you don’t really do it.”

“You don’t want me to die,” stated Nicole, almost as a vague revelation. Not quite a fact, not exactly a surprise. Just not something she’d ever thought about. “You spent three grand on the chance that I wouldn’t.”

Jecka didn’t answer her. Not that she really needed to, since Nicole’s skin stopped burning as much and her heart moved just a little bit further back from the edge.

“Last person who told me that was my dad; about four years ago,” continued Nicole. “Emily wanted to die with me. Ari kinda wanted to die for me…”

“Stop talking about other girls. Stop comparing me. I’m here. They’re not.”

“I know. That’s what I’m saying.” Nicole settled her hands in her lap and looked out the window. “I don’t want you to die, either.”

“Because then you’d be dead? Right? That’s why?”

“I probably would be, but that’s not really why. I just don’t want you to die, Jecka.”

“That’s sure romantic, Nicole.” Jecka chuckled with so much pain and bitterness that it actually hurt. “Exactly what every girl always wants to hear.”

“I mean it.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Okay. Good.” Nicole bit her lip and, even through nearly overwhelming panic spiking, spiking, spiking, spiking, and screeching thoughts of so many reasons to shut the fuck up and never talk again, just jump and don’t put Jecka through this, why are you making her life worse you worthless bitch—Bitch. Bitch keep talking. Nicole decided to keep talking. Drown it all out. Keep going, and talking, and moving. “What was Rachel like?”

“Don’t do that, Nicole.” Jecka rolled her eyes. “You don’t care.”

“Bitch, tell me about your dead bestie!”

“You just want me to keep talking; you don’t actually give a shit!”

“Make me give a shit, then! I’m not my mom! I want to care because I actually give a shit about you!” snapped Nicole. “Keep talking until I miss her, too.”

“Wow.” Jecka raised her brows at her. “What the hell did you and your mom talk about last night?”

“Not important. Tell me about Rachel.”

“That bad? Damn. Whatever you said to her? Your mom totally had it coming.” Jecka took a breath. “Rachel—wow, I’ve never talked about her.” She paused. “Every time I tried, everyone just wanted to move on and forget. Like she never existed. I was basically the only one from school who even showed up at the funeral, so I really shouldn’t have been shocked.”

“That’s…” Nicole shifted in her seat, imagining herself at Jecka’s funeral, and then Jecka’s at hers. She was the only one there. Just like Rachel. What shitty luck Jecka had; just had to be besties with a suicidal ovedramatic cowardly bitch who could only think about her own misery because, really, was life that bad? Was it? Was it really? Was it? Was it? Or was she just making it all up? Mom was right, there was—fucking, goddamnit, no. “That’s really horrible.”

“Yeah. It is.” Jecka grimaced. “She wasn’t as popular, and more than hot enough to be, y’know, in that circle, and—” She frowned at the road. “The roof was her idea. It was her idea, and nobody fucking remembers her, because nobody fucking cared except for me, I guess.”

“I was kind of wondering why you were so weird about that.” Nicole shoved her pill bottles in her jacket pockets. “Did, uhm…” She hesitated, and her brain started screaming again. “Did she call you that morning? And you didn’t pick up?”

“Not exactly.” Jecka shook her head. “She didn’t call anyone, Nicole. She never asked for help. No one knew anything at all. She was always so happy—or, I thought she was.” She slumped. “I called her that night. After she was already dead.”

Nicole took a breath and hugged herself. A little. Why was it so fucking cold—oh. It wasn’t. She was just shivering. Probably withdrawal. Fuck.

“I’d known her since we were in fourth grade, but we didn’t start getting close until seventh. She was super into horseback riding, and I got to ride with her a lot. Like, on the same horse since I cannot ride horses. She was really pretty. So pretty.” Jecka smiled wistfully. “Whenever she laughed, she had these dimples that gave me stupid stomach butterflies—I didn’t know what anything was, you know?”

“I—” Nicole gave her an odd look. “What what was?”

“Huh? What do you mean ‘what’?”

“That’s what I’m asking. What was anything?”

“Are—are you serious?” Jecka’s smile stretched her face. “Are you serious right now? Nicole, hey, right now is the worst possible time to play dumb, okay? So stop it.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I have no idea what you’re not saying that I should already know.”

“Oh my God, you—” Jecka looked like she was about to scream into a pillow she didn’t have. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“Jecka, you can freak out at how stupid I am after you—”

“I was in love with her! I was in love with her! I was in love with my dead best friend, you narcissistic asshole!” snapped Jecka, and yeah, you are narcissistic, you don’t give a shit about her or anyone, so you should just—shut the fuck up, Jecka wasn’t done talking! “I wanted to kiss her, make out with her, braid her hair, cuddle up in bed with her, and other stuff, and I will always regret that I—what the fuck, Nicole?!”

“Come on, how is that fair? How was I supposed to magically know that you—” Nicole briefly recalled every single conversation she’d had with Jecka that, upon reflection, not only made it almost embarrassingly obvious that she liked girls, but also that she thought that Nicole knew that. “I have no excuse for this.”

“You don’t.” Jecka scoffed. “You really don’t—I wasn’t even subtle! What the hell, Nicole?!”

“I don’t know, you just look really preppy and—”

“My mom chooses my clothes, Nicole!”

“Then, sure, but you just kept saying and implying you were straight so—”

“Why the fuck were you taking that at face value?! I don’t need a bigger target on my ass, and you have been all over the place! Are you out? Are you in? Is there even a closet for you? Which closet is it? I have no fucking clue because you make this shit impossible to be consistent with!”

“Oh, so now this is my fault? How is it up to me about how loud of a lesbian you are?”

“I don’t even know if I’m gay, I just—I like girls, and I still like guys, I think, and I spend almost all of my time with you, Nicole, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Fuck off, that’s not why.”

“Ugh, fine, I didn’t want to be ‘the probably gay one’ out of the two of us, okay? Y’know, when people look at us and stuff. If we’re both out, we’re both out. If one of us isn’t, then neither of us are. It’s easier. Strength in numbers.” Jecka scowled. “And there’s also the fact that, uh, figuring out you like a whole other kind of person that doesn’t want to fucking murder you if you reject them means you can actually be a little selective with who you put yourself out there for.”

“Okay, I kinda get where you’re coming from now. Sorry.” Nicole rubbed her arm and felt like she just shoved her face in dogshit. Intentionally. What was this? Strong enough to obliterate almost everything else roiling through her skull. Oh. Wow. That’s what it feels like to be on the other end of what she loved to use as a weapon. “Fuck, I hate guilt!”

“Yeah, that one’s a bitch that makes you do some really stupid shit. Like pity sex.”

“That one still makes no sense to me,” said Nicole, holding on to that sensation of guilt as hard as she possibly could. It was safer. It hurt so much more, but it was safe. Normal. She was supposed to feel that bad, and that was okay, unlike all this other shit, which she was blowing out of proportion like the overdramatic and repetitive bitch she was. Guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt, you are an asshole for not seeing this! But now you know! “How do you pity someone enough to have sex with them? How is being that pathetic not the biggest turn-off ever?”

“You don’t do that when they’re pathetic. If they’re like, nice, actually nice, y’know non-threatening but you’re not into them, so you think ‘well, he’s super into me and he’s been really chill so, it’d be so sad if he never got any’, and…” Jecka shrugged. “If you don’t, and it turns out later that he murders or rapes somebody, you’ll always wonder if he’d still have done that if you’d fucked him that day. Maybe ‘rewarding’ being a decent guy would’ve been enough.”

“Alright, so, that is so much to unpack,” said Nicole. “And I really hope you know that.”

“Yeah, I do. I think my mom told me something like that when I was fourteen, maybe? Or my cousin. I dunno, but, like I said, guilt’s a bitch that makes you do some really stupid shit.”

“Does it ever stop?” Nicole didn’t want it to stop yet, though, uhm, yes, in the future, it would be cool to not feel like this. “Please say yes.”

“Not really.”

“Goddamnit, this sucks.” Nicole massaged her temples. “Shit, I had a follow-up question, what was it—oh, yeah, how late?”

“How late what?”

“How late did you realize you were in love with Rachel?” asked Nicole. “How much after she died?”

“You can’t just ask that, Nicole.”

“Too late, I already did, I need to keep talking. So, how long?”

“Okay, literally as the coffin was being lowered.” Jecka snorted. “I started bawling, even louder than her parents.” She chuckled. “I was so dumb.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb. I’m dumb. I didn’t even—look, feelings are hard and I barely remember how hard they were. But I’m starting to.”

“I just really miss her.” Jecka shrugged. “In case you haven’t gotten hit with it again yet, grief is the worst of them all.”

“I’m really not looking forward to that one.” Nicole rested her head against the window. “Thanks.”

“For telling you about Rachel?” Jecka took a very deep breath. “I’m pretty sure that was way more you doing me a favor, Nicole.”

“For coming when I called, Jecka.”

“You shouldn’t thank me for that.” Jecka chewed on her cheek and stole a glance. “I just didn’t want to lose someone again.”

“Yeah, but you still did this shit, so. Thanks.”

“You asked for help, Nicole. Real, actual, no bullshit help.” Jecka glared at her as they rolled up to a red light. “You asked me to keep talking, basically waved your meds in my face—there was no way I wasn’t going to deliver.” She leaned closer. “You asked again less than an hour ago. You just asked a third time. Do you have any idea what that kind of trust feels like? You were going to kill yourself and the first thing you do is call me.”

“Was—was that too much?” Nicole blushed and cleared her throat. “Sorry?”

“Too much? No, I’m a really fucked up bitch, Nicole. This is everything I’ve wanted since Rachel killed herself.” Jecka shook her head and squeezed the steering wheel as the light turned green, the sedan jerking forward before the speed smoothed out. “I have thought about that last week of her life over and over again. What if I could have stopped her? Helped her? What was the one thing I didn’t do that would’ve made a difference?”

“That’s not fucked up; that sounds super normal.” Nicole wrinkled her nose and sat up. “What else are you supposed to do?”

“That’s not the fucked up part.”

“Okay, what is?”

“I’m happy you did. Over the fucking moon happy. This is probably the happiest I have ever been in my entire life. You thought of me. You called me. You were scared, you were suicidal, you are, and you reached out to me.” Jecka smiled so widely that it was kind of disturbing. “You put your life in my hands. You really did that. You could have called 911, some stupid hotline, or someone else, or screamed at your mom, but, no. You chose me.”

“Jecka, who else would I call? Who else would come? You are literally the only person I actually trust.”

“Believe me, I am super aware of that. Kinda difficult sometimes not to use that as leverage!” Jecka snickered, so dry and dead. “Like right now. Riiiiiiiiiiiight now. I won’t, though. I never will. But I could. You get that, right? I could make you do anything if I was a bigger piece of shit.”

“I don’t really know how to respond to you threatening me while I’m actively suicidal.”

“I’m not threatening you! I’m trying to explain how desperate I’ve been for this, literally this, right now. I wanted this. I wanted this so much, and I could have made this happen whenever I wanted to.” Jecka swallowed. “When you run out of bullshit to talk about, all you have left is the truth—fuck, that sounded like stupid poetry again!”

“I think you might just be good at weird wisdom, Jecka.” Nicole took a very deep breath. “I’d say there’s no way you could manipulate me into doing anything, but considering this morning, yeah, I get it now.” She buried her head in her hands. “I kind of can’t live without you, can I?”

“That’s not really what I meant. I was thinking more in general. Not—not literally life and death.”

“Yeah, well, it is. Congratulations on winning, I guess.”

“What? No, I need you, too, you dumb bitch!

“Not to live.”

“I don’t want to find out.” Jecka shook her head. “Losing Rachel was, is, hell, but losing you would be so much worse.” She sniffed. “You want to know what the worst part was of losing her? The most fucked up, selfish, horrible part?” She clenched her teeth. “She didn’t mention me in her suicide note.”

“Okay, I actually really get how horrible that would feel.” Nicole swallowed. Damn, Jecka was right. When you run out of bullshit to talk about, all you have left is the truth. Nicole kinda wanted to get that tattooed on her ass. Or her shoulder blade? “Because my dad mentioned me, and only me, and…” She trailed off. “Yeah.”

“Oh, so there was more to that story.” Jecka’s eyes widened. “Okay. Uh. Holy shit.”

“Said it was my fault, too.”

“What the fuck, Nicole?”

“Only two words on it. ‘Nicole’s Fault’.”

“Again, what the fuck?”

“Nevermind. Nope. We’re talking about you right now.”

“Probably a better idea, yeah.” Jecka took a very deep breath. “Well, Rachel didn’t mention me. She mentioned her parents. Her sister—she’s older. Her neighbors. Not me.” She scowled. “It still hurts to think about—I am still so pissed. My best friend kills herself, and all I can think about, even now, is how she never really cared about me because I wasn’t in her final thoughts as she was planning her own death.”

“If it helps…” Nicole didn’t feel even the tiniest bit of anxiety or fear from remembering every single suicide note she’d ever written, and every single attempt she backed out of like a pussy ass bitch—no, not like a pussy ass bitch. Okay, kind of but—fuck, just—fuck! “I’ve mentioned you in every single one of mine since we met.”

“Oh—uhm.” Jecka blushed. “Wow, I really appreciate that. Thank you. Never use them, though.”

Nicole stared down at her lap. All of the times she didn’t kill herself. All of the times she sat there, not even really debating with herself, not even really arguing or trying to find a reason not to, and her fucked up brain would somehow land on something to do tomorrow or that day or that night. Eventually, she’d run out of reasons to pop into her head.

Even if she didn’t, one day, it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing was going to be enough forever. Not even Jecka, probably. Right? Nobody, nothing, no single idea, over and over again, could be a reason to not kill herself forever.

Could it?

“Nicole,” warned Jecka. “Don’t ever do that.”

Nicole hugged herself, beginning to shiver in full again.

“Asking you to promise that is fucked up, I know.” Jecka gnashed her teeth. “But I am going to do it anyway, because I can’t do this all over again!” She glared at Nicole. “Bitch, promise you won’t kill yourself!”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Then lie!”

“I don’t—” Nicole’s eyes fell. “I don’t want to lie to you about that.”

“Too fucking bad.”

“You know I’m lying! What’s the point of this?!”

“I just need to hear it, Nicole!”

“Okay, fine. Fine.” Nicole nodded. “I promise I won’t kill myself, but if I do—”

“No, shut the fuck up! Shut up!”

“If I do—”

“Shut the fuck up, Nicole! Stop it there!”

“If. I. Do.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“If I do, I will write just—just so much about how it wasn’t your fault in my suicide note.”

“Oh, you were trying to be sweet.”

“Tried so hard I got there, yeah.”

“You did.” Jecka smiled, stopped smiling, then smiled again. “Thanks. Please don’t die.”

“I’ll give it my best shot.” Nicole sighed. “I have no idea how I’m going to get through today.”

“How’re you feeling so far?”

“Take a wild fucking guess, Jecka.”

“Worse than you look, got it.” Jecka chewed on her cheek, resting her chin on her fist, loosening up on the ‘ten and two’. “You’ve gotten through days super fucked up before. You can do this.”

“Being fucked up on whatever meant I had drugs to blast through my skull so I didn’t have to deal with anything!” snapped Nicole. “What, am I supposed to treat this like I’m high?”

“I mean…”

“That won’t work.”

“Okay, okay. Look, you’ll get through it. It’s not gonna be that bad, Nicole.”

“Yes, it will.”

“Okay, it will, but, the day will end, and you will get through it. Because you promised. “Jecka shot her a smile. “All you need to do is fake sleeping through every class I’m not in and do not go to the bathroom without me.”

“If you say so.”

“Promise.”

“Jesus Christ, okay, fine, I promise I—”

“Less sarcasm, more sincerity.”

“For fuck’s sake…” Nicole didn’t bother arguing. “I promise I won’t go to the bathroom without you.” Her stomach snarled. “I think I need to eat something.”

“I skipped breakfast, too.” Jecka popped her lips and grumbled. “We’re both broke and I’m pretty sure we’re banned from the Chrome Diner at this point. The closer one, at least. Can’t dine and dash if they won’t let you in the door.”

“There’s always school breakfast.”

“Yeah, but that’s for the super poor kids, and it’s not free.” Jecka blinked. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You can pay upfront for the year for it. It’s dirt cheap,” explained Nicole. “My mom paid for it last year and this one, too. She said she thought it would incentivize better attendance.”

“It probably would if it wasn’t so damn early.”

“Honestly, yeah.” Nicole snickered and rubbed her eyes. “Ugh. In the mood for rubbery pancakes and freeze dried potatoes that haven’t thawed?”

“Bitch, I’m so hungry I’m about to eat my own upholstery.”

Nicole gave Jecka an odd look.

“It’s leather.” Jecka poked the passenger seat. “See?”

“I know it’s leather. Why the fuck would you eat it?”

“Because you can digest leather and it actually has nutritional benefits?”

“Why do you know that?”

“Fuck you, Nicole, that’s why!”

Nicole shivered in her seat in the cafeteria, her fingers, arms, and hands shaking way too much to really be that great at holding forks. She kept using them, though, to eat the shitty instant scrambled eggs, probably-won’t-kill her sausage patties that looked like charcoal briquettes, frozen solid flattened ‘hashbrowns’, and pancakes even more rubbery than she remembered.

It was a goal.

Something to focus on, since rage and anger stopped working as band-aids pretty quick. She’d forgotten to really try in the car ride over, but by the time they wandered in through the cafeteria door, it wasn’t working despite how pissed she was to be at school. Not that she had much of a choice. Jecka was the one driving.

Jecka was also the one who had insisted they slip into the bathroom before breakfast so she could make herself look not like shit, which was fair. Even if she hadn’t let her leave to go eat and it kind of took way longer than it probably should have.

Nicole needed food, and hopefully a stomach that wasn’t empty would help her ‘regulate temperature’. Okay, ideally it just didn’t make her vomit or look like the stomach flu—anything that would force her to get sent home, in the most cruel irony ever, would be very bad that day.

“Nicole, the boiler is on full blast,” said Jecka, looking at her more closely as part of the table started to shudder from Nicole shivering so much. “I really don’t think this is just you and your bizarre temperature preferences.”

“No other explanation,” grumbled Nicole, attempting to silence her body and mind freaking out with food that she knew wasn’t that legally distinct from the stuff they gave to prisoners. “I’m cold. It’s basically still winter. Everyone else has thicker skin or grew up in St. Paul or Chicago or Anchorage or some shit.”

“You’re starting to look a lot like my mom when she runs out of heroin,” said Jecka, begrudgingly and so effortlessly eating her own breakfast. “You’re sweating just as much, too. Pretty sure this is withdrawal, Nicole. That, or you got chemically dependent on that stuff fast.”

“How is there any difference to those two things?!” snapped Nicole, grabbing her shaking arm over her jacket sleeve before she lost another bite of eggs. Fucking plastic forks and knives. Can’t even break skin. Can’t do anything but choke herself on them, and the food would be better at that. “Goddamnit, I can’t handle starving and all of this other shit at the same time.”

“Do you want my jacket?”

“No.” Nicole refused to acknowledge the sweat from her brow and chin that she was wiping off with her sleeve. “I’m not going to freeze to death.”

“Do you want me to feed you?” asked Jecka, still poking at her own food. “If that’s what you need right now, Nicole, you had better fucking mean it.”

“I don’t need you to feed me, bitch.” Nicole probably did need that, but she was not about to ever admit it. She’d asked for too much help that day already. Anything more and Jecka would walk away, and the vague idea of that almost made her want to vomit more than the food did. “I just need to wait to warm up.”

“Jesus Christ, Nicole, just use your hands.” Jecka set her fork down and glared at her. “Everything’s already thick and cold enough for it to count.”

“Count as what?”

“Hand food.”

Nicole grimaced down at her mostly full plate and, after a few seconds of intense concentration, gave up and started shoving handfuls of vaguely edible bullshit into her mouth, chewing as little as possible so she didn’t have to taste anything. Her breakfast was gone in less than a minute and she did not burp. Not even a little.

“Wow.” Jecka snickered into a bright, exhausted smile, biting down on her finger to stop herself from cracking up more. “That—that was really badass, Nicole. So cool. So hot, too.”

“Bitch, you told me to do that!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually listen!” Jecka chuckled at Nicole’s growing scowl. “You don’t feel any better, do you?”

“No.”

“Do you feel worse?”

“Aside from feeling like an absolute dumbass? No.” Nicole smacked her tray across the table, sliding it to the edge, and buried her head in her arms, face down on the over sanitized plastic. “I fucking hate this.”

“I know this is going to sound really sappy and lame, but it’s still true, alright?” Jecka got up and walked around to the other side of the table, draping her own jacket over Nicole, and it didn’t make her shiver less. “Like I already told you in the car, what you're feeling right now isn’t forever. Even my mom’s shaken addiction and way worse withdrawal symptoms before. For a few months at a time.” She sat down next to her. “So who’s the more badass bitch, Nicole? You, or my mom?”

“Probably your mom. She works corporate for some fancy ass designer label, shoots up heroin, and parents you all at the same time. If you’re curious on how she’s doing with that, the fact that I’m not dead right now is your first clue.” Nicole rubbed her face deeper into her jacket sleeves. “Can I switch places with her for today? I’d rather be fucked up on the worst shit than deal with this.”

“My mom does the hard stuff for the same reason your mom shuts herself off with valium and vicodin, Nicole. She can’t handle life as it is.”

“We do the same fucking thing, Jecka,” grumbled Nicole, refusing to lift her head. “Great pep talk. I’m soooo inspired.”

“No, we don’t! Bitch, will you listen to me and take one look at where you are?” Jecka pulled her arms apart and shoved her up into proper posture. “You got out of bed.”

“Yeah? And?”

“Where’s your mom?”

“In bed.”

“And where do you think mine is?”

“In her own bed with your dad.”

“Yeah.” Jecka nodded. “Does that sound badass to you, or did they just give up like the drugged up middle-aged failures they keep telling us they aren’t?”

“Like they gave up,” mumbled Nicole. “Just a matter of time before we both do the same, Jecka.”

“Fuck that.” Jecka glared at her. “Says who?”

“Says life.”

“Fuck that kind of life.”

“Okay, then the universe.”

“Fuck the universe.”

“Then everything, Jecka. Everything says that.”

“Fuck everything and everyone else, too.” Jecka shrugged. “You got out of bed.”

“Why is that so important to—” Nicole narrowed her eyes and closed her stupid mouth. Because Rachel never got out of bed. How much of what Jecka was saying were just things she never got to say? Speeches and ideas and things that were all thought up to play out in a reality that would never exist. “If I get back in the bed, what happens then?”

“You take a nap or sleep until morning, bitch. What else would happen?”

“Yeah. Good point—” Nicole took a deep breath and started shivering again. “Fuck!”

“Temporary.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not complete bullshit and hell right now, Jecka!” Nicole’s teeth were chattering and she couldn’t make it stop. “Just—just give me a fucking xanax. They’re the same chemical, right, so—so they should be similar enough to—”

“I had to trade my stash for some of the drugs I got you. I’ve got nothing left.”

“Then ask around!”

“We don’t have any money, and the only thing we have to trade is the stuff in your pockets,” reminded Jecka. “There is no way anybody’s going to give an addict their fix for free, Nicole.”

“Cool. I’m gonna fucking die.”

“No,” ordereded, demanded, Jecka, staring right into where her soul should be. “You’re not going to die. Not today. Not ever. I won’t let you.”

“How’s that supposed to even work?”

“I don’t care! I’ll make it work, okay?!”

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

And it was getting harder not to by the second. Each beat of her heart slipping away what little grasp she had on that basically pointless ‘desire’ to stick around, to hear Jecka talk, to not let her down, to not break a promise—may as well be hanging from a frozen over cliff in the middle of a tsunami. She couldn’t hold on any tighter, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

But every time she got so close to truly letting go, it didn’t happen. She backed off. Either by Jecka yanking her back with words, or just being there, or, shockingly, Nicole doing it to herself. No explanation for that one. But it kept happening.

Probably about to stop happening, though.

Nicole hadn’t expected for their plan to work, to just keep her head down and get through the day, and it really didn’t. Surviving withdrawal at school incognito? Never gonna happen.

Of course everyone would notice that something was different when she was shivering in the back of the room like a meth addict. She managed to dodge any and all problems first period, because that was her study hall, and the only notable thing she did was show up, but once second period rolled around, well, she couldn’t really hide anything.

Mr. Lorre tried to ‘wake her up’, despite Jecka’s insistence that he really shouldn’t do that, and her first instinct was to ‘fake’ night terrors and stumble around before collapsing into her desk again.

That probably would have been the end of it if Jeffery hadn’t tried to use that as a conversation starter, which she had decided to end as terrifyingly as she could in her state. Technically, it wasn’t so much a conversation as snarling like a bear in Jeffery’s vague direction, but that was more than enough to get sent to the counselor’s office. Which is where Mr. Lorre did send her, but that’s not where she went.

Nicole went to Principal Lynn’s office instead, because while she wouldn’t feel any guilt or shame in murdering her guidance counselor for trying to pull something when she was already having trouble standing up without getting dizzy, a jury would convict her for something that obvious. Which was not something she wanted to deal with, especially since Jecka had put in so much time, effort, and—

Fuck, she just really didn’t want to dissappoint Jecka by getting caught murdering the counselor.

“Nicole?” Principal Lynn actually looked surprised to see her, spinning around in her chair, her eyes still half on her clunky computer monitor, one hand remaining on the keyboard. “What are you doing here? I haven’t gotten a call about you being sent to my office.” She checked her computer. “Nor a referral.”

“Mr. Lorre sent me to the counselor’s office.” Nicole sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “I thought I’d do you a favor and come here instead so I don’t get convicted of murder and so you don’t have to try and find a different pedophile to fill out his parking space.”

“Sometimes I wonder why we even have a Dean or Assistant Principals if all they ever do is look the other way when things like this happen.” Principal Lynn gave her a sidelong glance. “Nicole, you seem to be shivering violently. Please don’t tell me I need to explain what a fever is.”

“I’m not sick—okay, I am sick, but it’s not a cold or a flu or anything contagious.” Nicole hugged herself and rubbed her sides, biting down so her teeth would stop chattering. “Can I just sit here for like thirty minutes so I can go to my next class and black out there?”

“This is certainly an interesting tactic for skipping.”

“I’m not skipping. I just…” Nicole shook her head. “Whatever. I’m sitting here, so kick me out if you’re going to.”

“You can sit there on one condition.” Principal Lynn held up a finger. “Are you listening?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. Let’s hear this.”

“Tell me why you look like you’re suffering from narcotics withdrawal.”

“Because I technically am, depending on how you loosely define narcotics.”

“I see.” Principal Lynn rolled her eyes. “If you don’t tell me the truth, this will only get worse.”

“Is everyone over thirty just chronically deaf to anyone under eighteen or something? I’m being honest! It’s not my fault that you just assume everything I say is a lie.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why—no, how?”

“Nearly everything you say is a lie.”

“Yeah, but normally, I’m lying about other kinds of stuff!”

“Nicole, if you aren’t honest with me, I’m putting in a recommendation for a transfer to ROE as well as actual rehab.”

“What the hell is ‘row’?”

“Not row; R-O-E. Regional Office of Education.” Principal Lynn set her hands on her desk. “It’s where the state takes students who are on their absolute last chance before expulsion.”

“Honestly can’t tell if Emily calling a government building a ‘hood school’ was ignorance or activism,” mumbled Nicole, not exactly intentionally aloud.

“What was that?”

“I said your girlfriend flushed my meds,” spat Nicole, her eyes narrowing even as they reddened. “She’s a real bitch like that.”

“My what?” sputtered Principal Lynn. “Excuse me?!”

“You’re still dating my mom, right? Along with a clown car of other creeps?” asked Nicole, having held on to that one for exactly that rainy a day. “Remember, if you say no, then you’re closeting yourself to—”

“For God’s sake, Nicole, you can’t just turn everything into a social crusade and expect to win!”

“You two were made for each other. Yes, I can do that. I can totally do that when the most basic levels of empathy are what I’m crusading for.”

“Damnit, you’re right.” Principal Lynn crooked her lips. “How did you find out about that?”

“Same way she used to snoop around my life before she gave up. I look through her phone whenever she leaves it out.” Nicole shrugged. “You send a lot of sexts.”

“Oh my God.” Principal Lynn’s eyes widened. “You’ve just seen everything, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Nicole nodded. “All of it.”

“Even—”

“Yeah, even that, whatever the hell it is you’re talking about, yes. I meant it. All of it.”

“Well, this is a bit of a waking nightmare.” Principal Lynn paled. “I am extremely uncomfortable now.”

“You’re uncomfortable because a teenage girl saw about eighty-seven pictures of your naked body at very explicit angles?” Nicole snorted. “Did not expect you to regift the baby oil ones."

“Yes! Of course! I feel violated, and disgusted, and—” Principal Lynn scowled at her, clearly hearing what she’d just said. “What are you even trying to prove, Nicole? I was your age once. I haven’t forgotten how this works.”

“Pretty sure you have since you haven’t fired any of your staff pedophiles.”

“We’ve discussed this—”

“And I call bull on ‘they blackmailed me because I slept with them’ or ‘they don’t take me seriously because I slept with them’ or whatever the hell your excuse is, since they’re pedophiles,” growled Nicole. “Why would they ever want to have sex with a grown woman?”

“They’re—”

“Don’t say they’re bisexual with the second one being minors.”

“Alright, fine, do you want the truth?” Principal Lynn glared at her. “The horrifying, blunt, and exhausting truth? Is that really what you want today? When you’re shaking like an addict?”

“I’m absolutely going to regret saying yes. On the other hand, I feel less like I’m dying when people talk a lot to distract me, so yes.”

“The truth is, Nicole…” Principal Lynn paused for a few beats. If she was expecting Nicole to run off, she’d be waiting for a long time. “The truth is that, at this point, I’d need to fire a little less than half of the faculty.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem, or even really a problem in general.”

“Nicole, if the entire school shuts down, what do you think will happen?”

“Early summer break?”

“No. If you’re lucky, the entire student body is transferred to a variety of other high schools all over the county. This entire district would likely be shuttered, or taken over by the state and subsequently purged.”

“Still not seeing the problem since the district is apparently employing slightly-less-than-mostly pedophiles.”

“I need this job, Nicole! I will never work in education again if I take a stand here!” snapped Principal Lynn. “No one will ever hire the female principal who terminated the majority of her male staff, even if she was entirely within her right to do so!” She frowned. “I can already hear the news now. She’s stuck-up! She’s a radical! She’s a feminist extremist! Sharia Law in the beltway!”

“That last one doesn’t even make sense—oh, wait.” Nicole sighed. “Fox News?”

“See? You can hear it just as clearly.”

“I can, yeah.” Nicole slouched. “So, because you need to make rent or a mortgage or whatever, and because you do lose sleep at night, and because you don’t want to seem like that bitch, that makes it okay that you’re knowingly enabling your entire student body to be easy prey for the sexual predators and probably murderers you hired?”

“Oh, please, I didn’t hire these monsters!” scoffed Principal Lynn. “The teacher shortage isn’t nearly that bad to the point where my only options are these piles of filth. The previous principal is responsible for all of this.”

“Classic leadership move. Passing the buck to the previous guy.”

“I’m not passing anything. He hired them. By the time I got here, they already had tenure. They’re like moths to a very specific flame.” Principal Lynn shuddered. “I almost wish he did do this on purpose. At least then I’d be able to get rid of them without too much trouble. Conspiracies are ironically easier to prove when the crime is so abhorrent…”

“So, last one who had your job was a guy?”

“Yes.”

“Was he fired for—”

“Because of sexual misconduct with a minor, yes.”

“Rape.”

“Yes.”

“Finally got caught.” Nicole glared at her and connected a dot she really wished she hadn’t. “Random and totally unrelated question, but how long have you had this job?”

“This is my fifth year here.”

“Did anyone get fired for the same thing the year before I transferred here?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose names, though, yes.” Principal Lynn raised her brows. “Why do you ask? What exactly are you thinking, Nicole?”

“Something I probably shouldn’t.” Nicole took a breath. “How many times has that happened under your reign, Principal Lynn? How many teachers have been caught and fired—no, how many kids have you let this happen to?”

Principal Lynn didn’t answer, and Nicole…stopped.

She couldn’t bring herself to keep asking the questions she wanted to. How many kids had Principal Lynn basically killed by driving them to suicide because she sat and did nothing? How many had the other presumably not shitty faculty turned a blind eye to? How many kids left for Summer break and never came back?

How many were just like Rachel? Someone Nicole had never met or even heard of before that morning, but it was beyond enraging to think that there was a really fucking high chance that this was why she was dead. No one knew anything? No one wanted to say anything? Everyone just wanted to forget her and move on?

Wow. Jecka’d done it. Told her enough about Rachel so that Nicole did miss her, too. Even if that was mostly for Jecka’s sake, it still counted.

No wonder they wanted to forget her so bad. If they admitted she existed, they’d have to admit that there was a problem they were refusing to solve. Why would anyone want to remind themselves of that looming unavoidable threat more than they already have to? Paranoia didn’t need more food, especially when it wasn’t paranoia.

Kids killing themselves was something you could prevent; just because basically nobody had ever tried with Nicole didn’t mean she didn’t understand how easy it was to stop it. She’d been doing it herself for years and years. So, wasn’t this even worse?

Principal Lynn could have stopped all of this, and didn’t.

“Why the hell did you get into education?” asked Nicole, desperate for some kind of logic to latch on to. For this to suddenly make sense. “Why are you even here at all?”

“Likely the same reason you came to me instead of mouthing off to the guidance counselor, and almost certainly did not even confront your mother this morning for supposedly flushing prescription drugs.” Principal Lynn’s eyes sunk into her head. “You truly wish I was someone you could trust. A positive role model. Someone whose presence reminds you that so much more is possible in life than you thought.”

“Please flatter yourself more. Really, get yourself off, I don’t mind. Work yourself up into whatever crazy ass high this brings you.” Nicole crossed her arms and frowned. “I didn’t feel like getting leered at by a pedophile. That’s why I’m here. That, and avoiding the murder charge.”

“Of course. There’s no other reason you actually talk to me, aside from constantly deflecting and driving the rest of the faculty—”

“You’re the principal. I can’t pull as much with you without getting expelled.”

“You’d be surprised—well, no, you wouldn’t.” Principal Lynn bit her lip. “I wasn’t lying or trying to talk myself up, Nicole. One could say you are why I got into education.”

Nicole rolled her eyes as massively as possible.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s true. Your mother likely doesn’t want to talk to you about this, but when we were your age, it was…far worse.”

“What—doesn’t want to talk to me about it? Half of what she says is ‘oh you don’t know how great you have it, you're just being dramatic and whining’. I know a lot about it.”

“Even so, I doubt you truly grasp it. As horrifying and disgusting as all of this is right now, Nicole, this is better. This is leaps and bounds, so far beyond impossibly better than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Your entire staff is infested with pedophiles and rapists. Most of your male students are going to become that, or they already are. How is that better?”

“Not too long ago, Nicole, a seventeen year old girl had effectively zero recourse, options, or credibility if something were to happen. Have you ever—”

“Your entire staff is infested with pedophiles and rapists.” repeated Nicole. “There is literally nothing you can say that magically ‘puts this into perspective’.”

“God, I wish that were true.” Principal Lynn took off her glasses and set them on her desk, suddenly looking a decade older. “It was worse, Nicole. So much worse.”

“Your entire fucking staff—”

“Yes, I am aware. Do you know what they are aware of? Consequences. We did not exactly have those not too long ago.” Principal Lynn gave her a very stern look. “All I ever heard was ‘boys will be boys’, yet girls cannot be girls. If a woman dares, if a girl has the gall, oh. That was an even less pretty sight than it is now. Being in public was often not enough to defend yourself, Nicole. It was not a shield. It was barely a barrier at all.”

“If the consequences actually mattered, I wouldn’t have to keep reminding you that your entire fucking staff is infested with pedophiles and rapists.”

“They do matter!” snapped Principal Lynn. “What you see as rampant and constant—there was more. There was so much more.”

“Yeah, but all of those numbers aren’t even accurate. I’m betting basically none of it ever got reported, and nobody really got that what happened was—” Nicole felt her skin begin to reject her bones. “I hate you so much.”

“What do you think happened to most of the women who tried to speak out, Nicole? To stand up for themselves? If they weren’t raped and murdered, they were committed to insane asylums for ‘hysteria’, and what happened next is not something I’m going to repeat.”

“This doesn’t make any of this okay.”

“You’re right. It absolutely doesn’t. It was worse. It’s better now. It will continue to get better, and I know that it is a bitter pill to swallow, that what you have right now is what you have to accept, but it’s the truth.”

“That’s it? Be thankful for how horrible things are, because they used to be somehow more terrible?”

“No, Nicole. Do not ever be thankful for what you’ve had to suffer through. You are far from innocent, and in fact I’m fairly sure you’ve done more damage to those around you than anyone I’ve ever met, but that does not mean you should ever accept things as they are.”

“This is probably the worst pep talk I’ve ever had. I already felt hopeless. You sucked out even more.”

“It’s not hopeless, Nicole. You are living proof of that. You would be dead ten thousand times over, or worse, for even a fraction of what you’ve pulled, if nothing had changed. Did you ever once wonder why it is that I entertain you girls at all? Over and over again? I know you don’t think I’m an idiot.”

“Just figured we were too much of a pain in the ass for you to deal with.”

“You’ve heard the story of Kitty Genovese? The young woman who screamed for help in New York in the sixties and was ignored by thirty-eight witnesses as she was stabbed to death outside of her apartment?”

“I forgot her name, but I’ve heard the story. Everyone has. Bystander effect or something. What’s your point?”

“When I was your age, Nicole, if I screamed for help, I was positive that no one would come. If you scream? We both know that someone will.” Principal Lynn sighed. “I am one of those people.”

“You were threatening to ship me off to ROE at the beginning of this conversation, so I really doubt that.”

“Well, we aren’t all perfect paragons like you, Nicole! I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I would and will,” stressed Principal Lynn. “It is that threat, that risk, that changes so much. Awareness itself is half of prevention.”

“That’s not enough.” Nicole gripped her pants and flashed her teeth. “It’s not enough.”

“Nothing will be. That’s the nature of progress. The present is unsatisfactory by definition. ‘Boys will be boys’. These days? ‘Girls will be girls’ applies all the same.”

“That’s not fucking profound!” snapped Nicole, raising her head. “Both of those things are fucking horrible!”

“The alternative—”

“No! No, that’s—” Nicole scowled as deeply as she could. “You can’t just let girls pull bullshit because the guys can!”

“You are the one pulling most of that bullshit, Nicole!”

“If I had the option between this being my life, and guys not doing what they do, I’d choose the second one!”

“We don’t have that choice. What’s your solution? This is the only option we have right now that is both feasible and equitable.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you, no seriously fuck you. Not ‘fuck you’, to shut up, but I really mean it. Go fuck yourself. I almost liked you. I’m not supposed to accept that things are this shitty, right? Okay, well, fuck you, you’re making everything worse!”

“I’m sure it looks that way.” Principal Lynn pinched her brow and leaned back in her chair. “What did you learn from Virginia Tech, Nicole?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?!”

“What changed? Can you think of anything at all?”

“A whole bunch of shit that won’t actually make a difference. Same as it always is.”

“Exactly.” Principal Lynn took a very deep breath. “There is no version of the United States government that will ever try and confiscate anyone’s gun until it’s far too late, much in the same way that no one will ever try to hold boys or men fully accountable. I can’t take their guns, Nicole. I can only give you more to even the odds.”

“Your answer is actually just the dumbest possible verison of ‘fight fire with fire’, because it’s fucking gunfire? That’s what you’re going with?”

“My answer is to keep you alive long enough so that you push the next generation forward!”

“I am never having kids.”

“You don’t have to, Nicole. You just need to be present. Where will you be twenty years from now? Don’t say ‘dead’.”

“Even if I am alive, it’s not my responsibility to do anything for anyone,” growled Nicole, hunching over. “What, just because I’m here, because I’m around, I have to help? Fuck you. Why would I give back to something that has only ever taken from me? Why the fuck would I try?”

“Why indeed.” Principal Lynn sighed and snapped her fingers. “A little girl somewhere was just born. She isn’t your daughter. She is someone’s, though. She’s someone’s child. She knows nothing. Whoever her parents are, wherever she is, she is a girl. Someone you will never meet, someone who will never know you exist, Nicole.” She leaned forward. “Do you want her to suffer like you have?”

Nicole didn’t answer. She just glared at her. More and more.

“That’s why. You don’t try to make life better for those who come after you to see results or to know you succeeded. You don’t try to make life better because life has been kind to you. I don’t really care why you do it, only that you don’t make things worse.”

Nicole crossed her arms and continued to glare.

“That little girl is going to grow up in a very different world from the one you did. There is absolutely nothing set in stone that she must suffer nearly as much. You have to—”

“Go fuck yourself,” spat Nicole. “You think pulling things back to the big picture means I’ll stop giving a shit about what happens to me? Everything that happens to me is for someone’s greater good, just not mine?” She scowled. “You’d be a lot more convincing if you weren’t such a hypocritical bitch.”

“Believe me, I know.” Principal Lynn tilted her head. “At the same time, I didn’t have me at your age, now did I?”

“This the part where you say you were me?”

“I’m certain I have many times already.”

“I think I finally agree with you.” Nicole stood from the chair. “You’re just as pathetic. No, you’re worse. Sitting there and letting all of this shit happen, and using all of your energy to make things more horrible when you don’t have to. I doubt you even actually feel bad about any of it.” She shook her head. “I’m seventeen. I can’t do shit. You’re thirty-nine. You can.”

“You wanted honesty.” Principal Lynn put her glasses back on. “You have it.”

“Fuck you. I got out of bed today, so fuck you.” Nicole turned to leave but stopped. “If things were that much worse, how are you even alive—how is my mom alive, if it was that bad?”

“We’re middle-class and white.”

“I don’t know what answer I expected.” Nicole stared at her for a few seconds and the bell finally rang. “Either kill me right now or kick me out of—wait, do you have any xanax? My mom really did flush my meds and as you can see, I am not okay.”

“I don’t share drugs with students, Nicole.”

“So, you do have some. You’re just a hoarder.”

“Get out! Now!”

“Awesome.” Nicole stomped out of her office. “Never wanted to do anything more.” She got maybe two feet past the secretary whose name she kept forgetting on purpose to mess with her before she almost ran straight into Jecka. “What the hell? What’d you even do to get sent here?”

“I wasn’t! I was sent to the counselor right after you, but you weren’t there, so I just had to entertain half an hour of that disgusting creep comment about every single inch of my outfit,” snapped Jecka, gagging, grabbing Nicole by the arm and dragging her into the hallway. “He spent five full minutes, I counted the seconds, staring at me in total silence.”

“He took a picture that would last longer,” said Nicole. “Sorry, yeah, I was going to kill him if I walked in that door, so I just spent the block screaming at Principal Lynn for not actually helping anyone.”

“And she didn’t kick you out?” Jecka’s disgust mostly evaporated. “How’d you even manage that?”

“She knew I was right, and she’s stuck in this stupid fatalistic loop of, like, not wanting to lose her job, or look bad, and ‘things are better now, I used to be you, I didn’t have me when I was you’ and ‘people come if you scream for help’ or whatever.” Nicole shrugged, because now was not the time to start up a conversation about whether or not if Jecka knew why Rachel killed herself. “A whole bunch of bullshit about ‘living for the next generation’, too.”

“Ew, she wanted you to have kids?”

“No, she just meant like, being around. Be the role model she can’t be. Give back to society so it’s better for other people down the road.”

“Wow, she really wanted to convince you that she’s not a massive enabling bitch.” Jecka sighed. ’That’s actually super sad.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jecka. She fucked it all up the moment she didn’t put her foot down and decided to make sure that it wasn’t just the boys who were given free reign to pull bullshit.” Nicole stuck her hands in her jacket pockets, running her fingers over her pill bottles. “Promise to kill me if I end up like her.”

“I’m not promising to murder you for anything, Nicole. And what about me? What if I end up like my mom or something? Would you actually kill me if I asked you to?”

“No, I guess not.” Nicole frowned. “We’re just going to be stuck with our own consequences, aren’t we?”

“Probably.” Jecka shrugged. “How are you feeling?”

“Not that badly, for some reason. I think—” Nicole started shivering again. “God–fucking-dammit!”

“Still temporary.” Jecka yanked her towards their next class. “Take a breath and remember that this will end eventually.”

“Did you at least find any xanax?”

“That is why Mr. Lorre sent me down here…” Jecka crooked her lips. “Because soliciting and panhandling for drugs is soooooo much worse than the ninja child porn Jeffery keeps drawing in the back of the room.”

“So, you did find some xanax?”

“Nicole, I promise, the second I have some, I will shove it down your throat.”

“Cool.” Nicole was still shivering and almost stumbled right into the wall. “Looking forward to that.”

Nicole really had to pee, so she had to break her promise to Jecka before her next class ended. Jecka had elective gym, so she was on the other side of the school, which meant it was entirely possible to pull this off without her ever finding out. It was that tiny burst of confidence in the face of her still nearly overwhelming anxiety that gave Nicole the tiniest push she needed to vaguely trust herself alone.

Which, turns out, wasn’t going to really be an option no matter what she did, since Emily was quite literally waiting inside just inside the second floor bathroom, fingers flying across her cell as she typed something out. She quickly looked up, gave her a knowing smile, and then went back to texting or emailing or whatever she was doing.

Nicole had fully expected her anxiety and paranoia and intrusive urge to drown herself in the toilet bowl to skyrocket by entering the bathroom, but the hum of the boiler and rumbling of ancient plumbing, and several other sounds she kind of didn’t want to think about the source of, were almost like white noise. Why the fuck was it doing that? The bathroom was never safe, but today it suddenly was?

Was it Emily? Yeah. It was Emily. The sheer potential for terror and violence from her was enough to frighten Nicole’s brain so much that it stopped pulling its shit in quite the same way. Back down to, well, not garden variety anxiety, since, y’know, withdrawal, but the blood boiling in her veins and arteries, searing the inside of her entire everything, cooled off a bit.

Enough to manage, at least for a couple minutes. Familiar. No, wait, that wasn’t it. Nope.

Emily just demanded that much attention so Nicole wouldn’t accidentally fucking die.

And yet, there was something else there, too. That same expectation, of understanding, of words she’d never heard or said, in the way Emily looked at her. She was waiting, and she’d been waiting, and if Nicole could figure out what the fuck she was waiting for she’d just give it to her!

Whatever. Probably only made sense to Emily, even if Nicole knew, deep in her gut, that that wasn’t true at all.

“Hey, Emily.” Nicole tried to not make a big deal of this and failed instantly because she started shivering, just a little. “What’s good?”

“Oh, you know, good is great and great is amazing.” Emily pocketed her phone. “Where’s Jecka?”

“In class, probably. She’s got gym right now.” Nicole eyed one of the empty stalls. “We’re not attached at the hip.”

“Right, sure. That’s not really what I meant? Yeah, she texted me riiiight at the start of the day to not let you be alone in the bathroom, so.” Emily leaned towards her, smirking. “Kinda gotta keep an eye on you while you're here.”

“Emily, I really need to pee and that’s it.” Nicole furrowed her brow because none of this made any sense. “How did you even know I’d be here? There are like ten bathrooms in this school.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m, like, everywhere.”

“Okay, fair, but Emily, I really do just have to pee.”

“Totally, yeah.”

“And I don’t want you to watch.”

“Kind of not an option. Super non-negotiable.” Emily shrugged. “If it helps, I don’t get off on pee fetishes or whatever, so this won’t do anything for me.”

“I guess that kind of helps—no, dammit, do you seriously think I’m going to kill myself in a school bathroom?”

“No, no, no, I believe you’re just here to pee. You’d never lie to me, Nicole, I know that, okay?” Emily edged closer. “I just also owe Jecka a favor for being such an awesome reference.”

“Which part of your ‘business’ has she been talking up, exactly?”

“Drugs, obviously.” Emily scoffed and twirled her hair. “Not like she has any interest in the other half.”

“Kind of a big assumption you’re making,” defended Nicole, without thinking about it. Don’t out somebody again to prove a point. Don’t. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Really?” Emily grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. “Nicole, it’s right in front of your beautiful face. She’s not interested because she hasn’t fucked you yet.”

Nicole blinked, fought a blush, and then tried to figure out if Emily was on to something before dismissing that entirely since she’d just kinda talked to Jecka about that. If she’d wanted to fool around with Nicole, she would have tried already, right? Especially after everything with Ari and presumably Emily.

Right? Right? Fuck, that didn’t sound right.

Something about that really didn’t sound right. They were both super pretty and hot, so why hadn’t Jecka at least floated the idea? Oh, shit, wait, Nicole already had. Jecka said no to the abusing part—shit, did she say yes to sex as long as Nicole wasn’t a monster to her and she just totally missed that?

“Can’t even argue, right?” Emily hummed in a very interesting kind of triumph. “You can’t. I knew it.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Nah, you totally do.” Emily narrowed her eyes at her. “You know something I don’t.”

“I know a lot of shit you don’t, Emily—” Nicole’s eyes widened as Ari stumbled, very flushed, hair all frazzled, out of the stall next to the handicap one. “Oh, hey, Ari. Didn’t even realize you were in here.”

“Yeah.” Ari was still blushing. “Yup. Didn’t hear you. Ears are ringing.”

“Why are they ringing? What, did you just shoot up in there? What could you have—” Nicole watched Ari as she hesitated to wash her hands, but then did that, almost walking past the sinks entirely. “Oh. You and Emily just had sex.”

“What?! No!” Ari rested her face against the mirror and groaned. “Dammit, I forgot you know what I look like after.”

“What are you worried about? I don’t care. I’m not dating Emily.”

“Neither is she, eugh. You should be, though, Nicole,” said Emily. “Why aren’t you again?”

“Probably has something to do with the failed suicide pact.”

“Failed? Bitch, that is a very funny way to say sabotaged.”

“I still don’t actually remember anything, so, sure. That sounds like something I’d do for you.”

“You did everything for me. You—not the time. Not the time.” Emily sighed and let go of her shoulder. “I am actually going to kill Jecka if she—”

“I don’t give a shit what you want her to do or not do. You touch her and you die,” growled Nicole, her anxiety burning away as she glared a hole into Emily’s suddenly very present and focused eyes. If she didn’t back off, Emily was probably going to kill her so, uh, no fuck that no backing down. “What did you think that text from her this morning meant? If you don’t want me to die, then you can’t kill her.”

“Yeah, which means if I kill her, then you kill me, and then yourself. I win.”

“Except for the part where you’ll be dead and it won’t have been a suicide pact.”

“No, I think that would still count if I yelled it super loud while you killed me.”

“Pretty sure they can’t notarize verbal suicide pacts in the process of the speaker being murdered,” sighed Nicole. “Emily, do you actually want to die?”

“Right now? Not really. It’s just super romantic to do that with you.” Emily sighed wistfully, chewing on her lower lip. “Yeah, I guess I can like, let you figure this shit out, and shop around while I wait for you to circle back after—”

“I am still standing right here,” reminded Ari, drying off her hands with the air dryer. “Can you have this conversation at any other time? Maybe?”

“Not if she’s going to be dead tomorrow, you stupid ho.” Emily raised a brow at Ari and smirked. “Hey, Nicole, try guessing again on who Ari just had sex with. It’ll be fun.”

“You are the worst lookout ever,” grumbled Ari. “Can’t believe I paid you five bucks for that.”

“Bitch, you didn’t get caught. You finished. I have other obligations in my day and Nicole was one of them.”

“Wasn’t this supposed to be about you having sex?” asked Nicole, her eyes mostly on Emily. “This seems like a step down.”

“Ran out of newbie girls, but I got really good at knowing how to not get caught, so I pivoted.” Emily chuckled. “If you didn’t learn to diversify from the housing market crashing, sorry Nicole, I just can’t help you. But I don’t care because you’re just that cool and pretty.”

“Wow, alright.” Nicole turned back to Ari and her entire face twisted in disgust. “Jesus, wait, you finished? Ari, that’s so gross. Did you just—” She had her questions answered for her once she realized she’d totally missed Kelly rummaging with her clothes and also stumbling out of the same stall, her hair not quite so perfectly up anymore. “Okay, nevermind, not a solo act; you and Kelly just had sex.”

“Hiiiiiiii, Nicole!” chirped Kelly, waving before washing her hands. “How’re you? How’s your day going?”

“We’re in the bathroom. It’s maybe ten square feet. Did you not hear any of this conversation?”

“No, sorry, sorry, sorry, I was pretty spaced out.” Kelly smacked the paper towel dispenser and it popped out a few, much to Ari’s frustrated frown as her hands were still held under the roaring air dryer. “Good, then, right?”

“Yeah. Awesome.” Nicole stopped herself from chewing out Kelly, as she recalled that Jecka wouldn’t tell her anything important since she, well, clearly still hated her. “Why weren’t you using the handicap stall for that?”

“In case one of the wheelchair kids needs to use the bathroom, duh?”

“Of course.” Nicole didn’t want to try and untangle the web of priorities involved to make that kind of decision when they had Emily playing lookout and also kind of watching? Listening, at least. “How’s your day going?”

“Can’t complain. Jecka gives awesome advice.”

“She certainly does,” agreed Nicole. “How long has this been a thing? What happened to Megan?”

“God, you just don’t pay attention to anyone else. She freaked out and dumped me,” grumbled Ari, still waiting for her hands to dry, rubbing them together. “The technicality of not breaking abstinence wasn’t in the spirit of her faith, or something.”

“That sucks.”

“It does, but why the fuck do you care?”

“I’m just saying it sucks, Ari. Because it does.”

“Yeah, that’s super shitty of her,” agreed Kelly. “You’re, like, really pretty and fun!”

“Okay, I know I’m not fun, but thanks,” mumbled Ari.

“You know yourself so well, Ari.” Emily flashed her a wink. “It’s really cute.”

“Whatever.” Ari rolled her eyes and froze up for a second once they landed back on Nicole. “Woah, you look like dogshit. Listen, I still hate you, but I actually did hear the start of the conversation and…” She frowned. “Don’t kill yourself.”

“You don’t want me to die?” asked Nicole, with extreme suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”

“No, I mean it. I—I wanted you to help plan my own suicide, not actually help me do it. It’s just a fucked up romantic idea, okay, I don’t want anyone to actually die.”

“You should. Nobody would think less of you if you wanted me to die, Ari. I wouldn’t.”

“I would and do,” said Emily.

“Nobody except for Emily and probably Jecka, I guess.”

“It’s not about what people think of me!” huffed Ari. “I wouldn’t like me if I was the kind of person who actually wanted people to fuck off and die because I didn’t like them.”

“Wow, you really are a terrible liar,” snickered Kelly. “Awww, does that mean everything you say during is true?”

“No, Kelly, shut the fuck up!” stammered Ari. “Shut up!”

“I really have to pee,” reminded Nicole. “And you are so full of shit, Ari.”

“Okay, I just don’t want to feel guilty about being somehow responsible.”

“See, that I believe.”

“Damn, Ari, you almost had me.” Emily slid past Nicole and got real up in Ari’s face. “You were so close.”

“Not this shit again.” Ari sighed. “Cut it out, Emily.”

“No, no, really, you almost did.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“I think I’m just gonna go.” Kelly gave them all a wave. “Ari, you should call or whatever. Nicole, keep having an awesome day.”

“Wait, wait, Kelly, do you have any xanax?” asked Nicole. “I really, really need some.”

“Noooo, sorry,” drawled Kelly, already slipping out of the door. “I’m not holding right now, see you later!”

“Wow, you really are in withdrawal.” Ari grinned. “That’s just karma for you, bitch.”

“Jecka already asked, and I’d give you some of mine if I had anything that wasn’t adderall,” said Emily. “Blame her on how hard it is to get xan today, not me. She was freaking out in everyone’s phones trying to find tranqs for you.”

“Ari, I will let you do whatever you want to me if you give me some xanax,” stressed Nicole, her eyes hardening. “I’m not kidding.”

“Goddamnit, I really don’t have any.” Ari blinked. “Shit, and you didn’t know I didn’t—I could’ve still gotten you to do whatever I wanted!”

“You’re such an amateur at being mean, Ari,” said Emily. “It’s cute.”

Nicole took that opportunity to finally pee, and when she was done Ari and Emily were already making out pretty heavily, bumping into the sinks and accidentally turning the faucets off and on. She raised a brow, quickly snapped a photo with her Sidekick for potential future leverage, and also because they kind of looked like wet ducks mauling each other, which Jecka would totally want to see, and—

The bathroom door flew open, smashing into the wall as Jecka all but kicked it down, covered in sweat and still wearing her gym uniform. She made eye contact with Nicole, exhaled and looked like she hadn’t been breathing for about two minutes, resting against the wall as she trie d to catch her breath, rasping out words Nicole couldn’t quite catch.

“Did you just sprint here from the gym?” asked Nicole. “How did you even know I was here? And don’t say you’re everywhere, because that’s Emily’s thing.”

“She texted me.” Jecka steadied herself with Nicole’s shoulder and quickly grabbed the other one, her eyes blazing and face twisting into a scowl. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You promised you wouldn’t do this! You promised you wouldn’t go to the bathroom alone!”

“I had to pee really badly, okay? I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do? Hold it? Piss myself?”

“Okay, whatever, fine. Not my best planning, This is why I talked to Emily, anyway.” Jecka looked past Nicole at Emily and Ari still making out. “I have so many questions that I don’t actually care about the answers to.”

“Kelly was in here earlier.”

“Wow, did she actually take my advice or—”

“Will you two just leave?!” yelled Ari, pushing Emily off of her for a second. “Read the fucking room, you perverts!”

“Yeah, beat it unless you want to join,” said Emily. “No peeping Tinas or Toms!”

“Or joining!”

“Come on.” Jecka yanked Nicole out of the bathroom and into the hallway, still kind of actively sweating. “So, did Kelly take my advice?”

“Yup. She and Ari fucked in the stall next to the handicap one instead of actually using it.”

“Well, yeah, Nicole, what if one of the wheelchair kids needs to use the bathroom?”

“Whatever.” Nicole shivered, but slightly less. “Find any xanax?”

“I’ll do a lot for you, Nicole, but I’m not sucking off Braxton in the boy’s locker room for one pill.”

“What about a bottle?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that, and now you can pretend that nobody has any xanax.”

“How does nobody have any xanax?”

“I think most people take them before school starts.”

“Fuck, you’re right.” Nicole fumbled with her cell. “Oh, before I forget…” She showed Jecka the picture of Emily and Ari making out. “What does this look like to you?”

“Uhm, I just saw this, but I guess the angle is different…” Jecka wrinkled her nose and frowned at the photo. “Two wet ducks mauling each other?”

“Yo, I thought the exact same thing.”

“It’s uncanny. It’s like a lesbian Rorschach test or something.”

“Wow. I have no idea what that means.” Nicole pocketed her cell. “You’d just be the biggest nerd if you weren’t so pretty, wouldn’t you?”

“There is no rule that says you can’t be pretty and smart, Nicole! How about, instead of just shitting all over me, you ask what the fuck I was talking about?”

“Oh my God, fine, what’s a roar–shack test?”

“Rorschach.”

“That is the exact same pronunciation.”

“Nope, it’s slightly different.” Jecka crossed her arms. “It’s a psychological test where you look at, like, ink blotches of abstract shapes and whatever you think they look like reveals something about your subconscious or whatever.”

“What, because we both saw ‘wet ducks mauling each other’, that means we’re, what, lesbians? We’re not. Right? Are we?”

“I have no idea, but ‘bi-curious girl Rorschach test’ isn’t as punchy, now is it?”

“Fair.”

By the time that final bell rang, Nicole was so sore and exhausted that she considered just passing out in her last class. She might have, if Jecka hadn’t sprinted into the room and basically hauled her back to her car and thrown her into the passenger seat.

“We have to do that around thirty more times,” said Jecka, her key twisting in the ignition. “What did you think? Can you do that?“ She quickly sped away from the parking lot. “You seem like you can, bullshit bathroom decisions aside.”

“Yeah. I think so.” Nicole hugged herself, and she did think so. It was hell. Absolute hell. She survived it, though. Her grades would tank even more, but withdrawal would likely taper off after four or five days. Maybe a week. Treat the rest of the klonopin as ‘fun xanax’, and she’d make it. Lexapro was a problem for future Nicole. “Can we just drive around for a while? I don’t want to go home.”

“You’re not going home until your meds are back fully in your system, or until, uh. They finish doing the thing where they settle? I don’t know how SSRIs work.” Jecka shook her head with finality. “Oh, shit, wait…” She opened the cigarette lighter tray and, oh, there was a ziploc with two pills in it. “I completely forgot I put those there.”

“You had xanax this whole time?!” Nicole scrambled for the bag and tore it open, eyeing the little etched markings on the pills and struggling to see if the dosage was written on it. Sometimes it was! “Fuck, what’s the dosage?!”

“It’s literally pink, Nicole.”

“That’s how fried my brain is.” Nicole popped one and swallowed. “Okay, in twenty minutes or less, I should stop freaking out as much when I’m not distracted.” She frowned at Jecka. “How did you forget that was there? Why were they even there at all?”

“Those were for emergencies in case, uhm…” Jecka trailed off. “Something really bad happened and I was too scared to drive but still needed to.”

“That’s actually really smart.” Nicole sighed. “Thanks.”

“This isn’t the exact kind of emergency I had in mind when I stashed those there, but, you know, close enough.”

“Yeah.” Nicole focused really hard on her stomach and tried to force the xanax to dissolve and work faster. It didn’t work. “So, wait, how am I just not going to go home?”

“Oh, uhm, we can tell my mom—her ‘not that high’ windows are weirdly consistent—you got kicked out of your house for, uh…” She shrugged. “Being gay?”

“We are way too far north for people to still do that, Jecka.”

“No, we’re really not.”

“Well, either way, I’m not gay.”

“Neither am I, but old people don’t give a shit about specifics. You’re not straight. That’s plenty gay.”

“This isn’t going to work.” Nicole slouched. “My mom won’t let me just live at your place for a month. As much as I want to cut her out of my life, I’m still on her insurance and I need these meds.”

“Everything about what you just said sounds like it’s wrong even though I know it’s not.”

“Wrong how?”

“Like, existentially.”

“Oh, yeah, totally. Fuck capitalism.”

“I think that might be taking it a bit too far, Nicole.”

“Remember when the housing market crashed last year and the entire fucking world broke?”

“Oh, yeah. Fuck all of that, yeah.” Jecka sighed. “Look, whatever, we could swap houses every other day? I’d actually get to live somewhere that has sound dampening again, so that would be cool.”

“And how would we explain that?”

“Same way? We’re gay.”

“Oh, so now I’m not kicked out, but you’re gay—this doesn’t make any sense, Jecka!”

“No, Nicole, we’re gay. Together.”

“Holy shit, that would totally work.” Nicole rubbed her temples. “Ohhhhkay. Coming out of the closet for, uh. The weirdest fucking reason.”

“And not even the right closet, either.” Jecka chewed on her cheek. “We’d have to do this again.”

“Yeah, and when literally anyone at school finds out, the fucking counselor is going to have been retroactively right about us. Y’know, even though he’s not.”

“Shit, I totally forgot about that.” Jecka bit her lip. “Goddamnit.”

“What does it matter? He’ll gloat, say something gross, we’ll yell about him being a pedophile and then he’ll back off until he thinks we forgot about it.”

“Why does he think we’ll forget, anyway? We aren’t goldfish. Maybe he flushed a lot of those as a kid.”

“Yeah, probably. He seems the type to enjoy watching them swirl to death.” Nicole leaned back in her seat. “Hey, so, the plan is to fake a lesbian awakening and relationship, right?”

“From our parent’s perspective, yes, that is what they will see and think.”

“Okay, but…” Nicole swallowed. “We’re lesbians for real.”

“I mean—” Jecka flinched. Why did that still bother her so much? What else would this be? “I guess? Kind of? Whatever, what are you getting at?”

“Did you say yes to ‘sexed-up lesbians’ but no to ‘abusive’? Is that what happened? Did I totally misread that and not piece that together?”

“That’s not how conversations work, Nicole,” groaned Jecka. “Why the fuck would I think you meant one thing without the other—and why would I ever believe you were actually serious in the first place?”

“Okay, sorry, I just…” Nicole shook her head. “Emily kinda got in my head—you know, she thinks you’re straight, too.”

“Yeah, because I don’t want to fuck her. She thinks she’s some magic lesbian or whatever and that all girls think she’s gorgeous.”

“You have called her the hottest bitch we know to her face. Repeatedly. At least ten times.”

“She is, but that doesn’t mean I actually want to risk having sex with her, Nicole. I’d be worried she’d slit my throat while she’s giving head or something deranged like that.”

“How is that any different from doing it with literally any guy?”

“Because Emily doesn’t let me pretend that she might not be absolutely fucking insane.”

“True, yeah.” Nicole struggled and failed to remember what was apparently one really long night with Emily. What had that been like? Had she just kept saying yes out of fear, or was she into it and had no recollection of the one time she ever did? No, that was stupid. Probably just went with the flow and they were so fucked up they just didn’t stop. “You’re wrong, though, about why she thinks you’re straight.”

“I’m going to love this, I’m sure. Why, oh why, does Emily, the foremost authority on all of this shit, think that I’m straight?”

“In her mostly exact words? Because you haven’t fucked me yet.” Nicole shrugged. “It’s not the most out there idea, I’ll give her that, but it’s still kind of dumb.”

“That bitch,” snipped Jecka. “Oh my God, no wonder she’s been making those snide little comments, like, every time I talk to her lately!” She screwed up her face. “Wow, she is really in love with you, Nicole.”

“She’s obsessed.” Nicole waved her off and scoffed. “She’s not in love. I’m assuming, mostly hoping, there is a difference. Not that I’ve seen it.”

“Whatever she’s feeling, she clearly sees me as an obstacle to you.”

“That’s definitely true. She threatened to kill you if you didn’t make a move.” Nicole caught Jecka’s deeply concerned look and shook her head. “No, it’s fine. You’re good. Threatened her back, talked her down. Why do you think she jumped at Ari?”

“I honestly hadn’t thought about it at all.” Jecka raised a brow. “So, you used your ex-girlfriend as a human shield to protect me from your other ex-girlfriend?”

“I don’t think Emily and I were ever actually dating, but, yeah, kind of.”

“She’s not going to murder me, then? No stabbing me in the hallway or cornering me in the bathroom or whatever?”

“Doubt it.”

“Cool.” Jecka waited a few seconds, repeatedly eyeying Nicole expectantly. “Any thoughts on this, Nicole?”

“Only one I had on the topic was about if you said yes to sex and no to abuse.”

“You can’t think of any other reason why I might not have said or tried anything?”

“Jecka, when you ask leading questions like this, you make people feel like dumbasses.”

“Good! You should feel like a dumbass! Because you’re being and are a dumbass!”

“Then why don’t you just talk to me like I’m a dumbass?” challenged Nicole, her lips twisting, leaning towards Jecka. “Break it alllll down for me, since I am clearly too stupid to understand all of these magical ideas in your head.”

“There’s nothing magic about anything right now, Nicole.” Jecka sighed. “How did you feel when Ari dumped you?”

“She didn’t dump me. I dumped her before she could dump me.”

“You knew she was going to dump you, though! Which is why you dumped her!”

“And? Is this a new topic or are you going somewhere with this?”

“Just answer the fucking question, Nicole!”

“Okay, okay, it felt like I wanted to kill myself and only didn’t because I think I made the bath water maybe two degrees hotter than normal.”

“Right, bad example. Kind of, except, no, not really. Rejection sucked, though, right? That broke through?”

“Never felt it before or sense, so, yeah. Pretty fucking terrible.”

“And you barely even knew Ari. She vomited her heart out all the time, but you are a massive bitch, and would have absolutely told me more secrets about her if you were paying attention.”

“What are you circling?” Nicole snorted. “Are you actually mad I didn’t give you more gossip?”

“No, Nicole, I’m saying if getting rejected by a girl you don’t even like after a month of hating being with her and abusing her and all of that horrible shit you did…” Jecka took a shaky breath. “What do you think it would feel like if your best friend did the same thing and didn’t want to talk to you anymore?”

“Worse.”

“Yeah.” Jecka stole a glance, her shoulders tensing. “Way worse.”

“Probably even worse than that time you did stop talking to me.” Nicole struggled to make the dots connect that she knew she should be able to, clutching the side of her head and grimacing. “How long was that? Twenty-four hours?”

“Twenty-two,” replied Jecka, instantly, flinching into a tiny smile. “Yeah, I can’t lie to my parents about this. I can’t do it. I really can’t.”

“Why the hell not?” Nicole crooked her lips and eyed her. “The fake lesbian awakening thing was your idea, Jecka. Take some responsibility for your idea and see it through.”

“Nope. I’m not going to do that. I can’t! I seriously can’t.” Jecka snickered into a pained, desperate laugh. “Because I wouldn’t be lying.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You are gay?”

“Nope. That would be way easier.” Jecka sniffed. “I’d have to tell mom that I’m scared that what happened to Rachel will happen to you, and then the ‘oh, we’ve been dating the whole time’ thing comes around, and—” She chuckled. “I’d never be able to keep that a lie once the door’s open. Not making the same mistake all over again.”

“Again?” Nicole blushed and scrunched up. “What do you—oh.” She forced herself to continue looking at Jecka, who was blushing even more, wiggling a little in the driver’s seat. “I am so fucking stupid.”

“Yup.” Jecka nodded several times. “You are very dumb.”

“So are you! Why did you think I’d reject you?”

“Because you made it super clear that you wanted to like, fuck with my head and physically hurt me in a way that’s way too much for me, and after watching how you treated Ari, why in the world would I think you wanted any other kind of relationship?!”

“Oh, yeah, good point.” Nicole furrowed her brow. “You could’ve just had sex with me. The other shit was, like, part of what Ari wanted, sort of, and—”

“I’m not just hot for you, you dumb bitch.” Jecka glared at her so intensely that Nicole stopped talking. “I like you.”

“You like me?” asked Nicole, all but baffled and her face doing weird things she couldn’t control. “Really?”

“Yes, Nicole.”

“Really?”

“Yes! A lot.”

“Really?”

“Holy shit, Nicole, yes!”

“You shouldn’t,” concluded Nicole. “You can do way better, Jecka.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve tried to explain that to myself. It doesn’t work. I don’t want to do better. I…” Jecka squeezed the steering wheel. “I just want you, okay? And I can’t ever ask that, since if you don’t want me, I—that would be fucking horrible.”

“Okay, but you kind of did just ask.” Nicole couldn’t stop her face from being fucking weird and numb. “I don’t have to answer if you don’t want me to.”

“I was going to beg that you let me make my case first, so, that works, too,” chuckled Jecka, dry and pained. “You probably figured this out already today, but you were something of a replacement.”

“Awesome start, Jecka.” Nicole swallowed the truth about Rachel. For now. “Very romantic.”

“You started as a replacement, bitch! Let me talk!” snapped Jecka. “Look, I wanted that, okay, because I’m that fucked up.” She flashed her the warmest smile she’d ever seen. “You walked up to me right at the start of last year, and you’re new, and you’re pretty, and you open your toxic, horrifying mouth and—” She snickered. “You say things no one ever has the balls to say. Stuff that nobody should ever say. The cruelest, meanest, most hurtful things anyone could ever say. Not to me, though. I’m the one standing right next to you. It made me smile. Made me…” She took a breath. “Feel a lot of things.”

“Oh. Oh my God.” Nicole’s eyes widened and she felt a sudden wave of everything all at once. Xanax must be starting to kick in. “Okay, yeah, starting to feel the xanax. That’s a lot. That’s—wow. Wow, okay.”

“Almost had me believing that my heartfelt words were doing that,” grumbled Jecka. “I guess my good timing was once-in-a-lifetime.”

“No, Jecka, seriously, that’s also a lot, it’s just—it’s both, alright?”

“Which is more?”

“I don’t know—you, okay? You’re more!”

“I don’t even care if you’re lying or wrong; I’m just going to believe I’m more forever, because I totally am.” Jecka’s posture stiffened and she stopped a little short at a red light. “You kept talking. And talking. And you are just so wrong so often on so many things, but it doesn’t matter. It never matters. I always come back for more, because you are addictive, Nicole.”

“I’m starting to get a little concerned at how many girls have that reaction to me.”

“This is different. It’s not just what you say or how you look or what you’ll just go with. It’s you. All of you. Your confidence is infectious and addictive—probably literally,” continued Jecka. “It makes me feel like I can get away with and do basically anything even into my fifties or something. Kinda don’t want to ever give it up.”

“Is it weird to say that you kinda sound like Ari—” Nicole nodded several times and held up her palms as Jecka snarled at her. “Yeah, I know—I can’t shut up right now or ever. Sorry.”

“Whatever. It’s not like I didn’t get where she was coming from. Sort of.” Jecka winced. “Kinda. Not really, though, actually? She wanted you to—I don’t want to talk about Ari!”

“I know. Sorry.”

“I’ve seen you fuck over so many people. Destroy so many things. Skirt the edge of everything as much as you can because you can. Because you don’t give a shit! You just don’t care—”

“You sound like every guy we know, just saying.”

“Let me fucking finish!” Jecka took a breath. “And that is so sad. See? Different.”

“Okay, sorry. Again.”

“Yeah! It’s really fucking sad because it’s bullshit, and also, it’s…not. Everything is that scary and horrible and mean. You make it feel like it’s less than that. You really do. The more you call shit out, the less scary it feels. It’s so beautiful, and disgusting, just like you, and a murder-suicide waiting to happen.”

“Are you sure you like me?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.” Jecka chuckled. “I just also know you, Nicole.”

“That’s never been in question.”

“Yeah, but, like, there’s knowing you, and then figuring out I want to know you.”

“That makes sense, yeah.”

“So, the only time you’ve ever tried to make something better, the only time I’ve ever seen you give half a shit about anyone or anything at all…” Jecka smiled at the road. “Was with me.”

“I…” Nicole rubbed the back of her neck. “So, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You had to go to the counselor’s office every fucking day for like, three months, before he finally let you go, and you can’t remember why?”

“No, I remember. I threatened to murder Jeffery so much that the school thinks I’m going to—” Nicole blinked and realized that she did have access to a semi-automatic handgun with at least sixteen bullets. “Unrelated, do you think I could pawn my brother’s gun and ammo without getting arrested? Or should I just go for MySpace to do that?”

“That is not unrelated! Ugh, nevermind. Nicole, do you have any idea why you threatened Jeffery that much? Do you seriously not know?”

“I feel like I don’t need a reason to do that.”

“Oh my God—Nicole! You did that for me, you idiot.” Jecka snickered. “You made it so I could smoke alone in the morning. We just talked about this! I chewed you out for bailing on me with—”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, right! Yeah, Jecka, could not remember why you were so pissed at me in the first place, but only I did that so we’d still be friends. There was nothing selfless going on there.”

“I didn’t say it was selfless.” Jecka rolled her eyes. “I said you made something better and gave a shit about someone else, and it was me.” She scoffed. “And I am actually pathetic enough to have that mean anything. ‘Oh, she’s abusive and a monster to everyone but me! I’m soooooo special!’.” She rolled her fingers on the steering wheel. “Well. Yeah! Why the fuck not? Maybe I am special.”

“I mean…” Nicole shrugged. “You are.” She blinked and sat up. “Wow, yeah, I can see how this would be basically impossible to actually be a lie for more than like ten minutes.” She rested her head against the window. “That’s a bust, I guess.”

“That’s what you’re taking away from this? That the lie won’t work? We could just do it,” said Jecka. “It’d be that simple. My parents and your mom would instantly assume that we’re in like, some crazy existential gay crisis, and give us a ton of space.”

“We’d be exploiting their stupid old person mentality so they don’t notice I’m losing my mind from SSRI and tranq withdrawal before we get that figured out.” Nicole snorted into a bitter laugh. “That’s so fucked up.”

“It’d work.”

“Yeah. It would.”

“So?”

“So? You want to start dating me when I am quite literally mentally unstable and even more likely to be an abusive bitch than I already am? You saw what happened with Ari.” Nicole frowned at her. “I said I wasn’t going to do that again.”

“Do I look needy to you? Have I ever come off as needy? Bitch, I am not Ari, I am hot as hell and so are you, and this is a stupid thing to even hesitate on!”

“Yeah, but—”

“Nicole, I’m not asking you to cut your fucking heart open and spill it out. I’m asking if you want to be best friends who have sex.” Jecka raised a brow. “That’s it. That’s all—oh, right, dammit.” She slowly turned her eyes back towards the road. “Okay, I kind of maybe practiced a lot of what I’ve been saying in like, the shower, sometimes, and forgot to tweak it to include the stuff about you not wanting to have sex. That’s my bad.”

“I didn’t mean I wouldn’t. I just meant, like, if nobody asked, I’d probably never think of doing it. So, if you asked, then, yeah, I would.” Nicole sighed. “That doesn’t matter anyway, because being super vulnerable and sharing way too much, that’s just how relationships work. You have to get all touchy-feely and open and gross, and—just so much of that.”

“That’s what dumb whiny bitches do! Are we dumb whiny bitches?!”

“I mean—no?”

“Then why would we do that?!” Jecka groaned and smacked the steering wheel, accidentally beeping the horn. “Why would either of us do any of that?!”

“I guess we wouldn’t…” Nicole flexed her fingers in her lap, the sharpened edges of anxiety and fear barely dulling in the corners of her mind, the screeching swarm of locusts in her limbs and chest quieting and weakening, just a little. “Even if I don’t fuck this up fast, I will eventually. And then we won’t be friends anymore, which is what you wanted to avoid, and so do I, and I’m falling apart right next to you right now.”

“So am I! I always have been! We always are! Every single fucking day!” snapped Jecka. “Do you want to wait until everything is perfect before you let yourself not be alone, Nicole? Really hold that ‘you can’t love anyone until you love yourself’ bullshit? Or do you want to choose something good for once in your fucking life?”

“It doesn’t matter what I choose, Jecka. Either I fuck everything up, or I move away again before I have the chance. That’s how my life always goes. There’s really no point.”

“Nicole, we have three months left before we graduate and by then you’ll be eighteen. You can just stay.”

“Not without losing out on my mom’s insurance.” Nicole sighed. “Even if I did do that, we graduate, and then what happens? We fuck around for the summer and that’s it?”

“You could, I dunno, actually go to college with me.”

“How much have you thought about this?”

“A lot. Way more than I’m willing to admit.” Jecka chuckled. “Nicole, I don’t have my whole life planned out, but—”

“You just said you did.”

“I have thought about you being in my life, not how my life will actually work!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what I want to do with my life—well, I used to, until I realized that veterinarians had to euthanize pets.”

“I didn’t even know you liked animals all that much.”

“I used to like them more, but if I ever get a pet, then a vet is going to have to put them down when they get old. I can’t deal with that.” Jecka grimaced. “I didn’t apply anywhere that doesn’t let me start as General Studies, or Undecided, or Undeclared as a major. I am just as aimless as you.”

“Little late for me to apply anywhere, Jecka. I was supposed to do that last year. And my grades aren’t nearly as good as yours, so there’s literally no point in trying to follow you.”

“Your ACT and SAT scores were decent, Nicole. There’s a bunch of colleges that do rolling admissions—you have options. Didn’t you do the Common App? You totally did. You can’t pass Civics unless you do it.”

“Yeah, I did that, and I threw it at a bunch of random schools so my mom would shut up, but I don’t even remember where I applied, or if I got in anywhere.”

“Then it’s not too late. Do one semester somewhere cheap, then transfer. If you can’t do that, there are always exceptions. You think the wild and horrible shit you’ve suffered and survived isn’t like crack to college admissions people? They can’t get enough of ‘overcoming obstacles’ and ‘underdog’ stories in personal essays! Even when you’re some white bitch from a cul-de-sac!”

“Who the fuck told you that?”

“Internet. My cousin said so, too. I’ll literally help you write one, okay?”

“They actually let you start college with Undecided as a major?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s probably a scam, but you still need to play along to get a degree to get a half decent job.”

“I guess I could try,” admitted Nicole. “Seems like it’d just make the inevitable even shittier, though. What if we end up in the same school and then we break up?”

“I know this is probably going to go down in flames. I know that,” whispered Jecka. “We’ve got basically no chance of making it. But, y'know what?” She shrugged. “What if this works? What if it doesn’t crumble?”

“Real fat chance of that.”

“No, I’m serious. Is that really so impossible and unthinkable? What if—”

“It’s the difference between being alone and not,” echoed Nicole. “That’s what you said, right?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said. I don’t feel alone with you. Not even a little. That’s all just fancy nice crap on top of it all, though.” Jecka smiled. “I just think this’ll make me happy, and I am a horrible person, a real massive bitch, because I care about my own happiness more than literally anything else. All of those starving kids in Africa can starve some more if I stay single right now.”

“Everyone thinks like that. You’re just cool enough to admit it.”

“And you’re not?”

“I don’t even remember what happiness feels like.” Nicole rested her head against the rest and sighed. “There’s an idea. Can you describe it?”

“Again with this?”

“I think you did pretty well last time.”

“Okay, well, being happy feels like, uhm…” Jecka shrugged. “A really tight and warm hug that you never want to end. Or something. It’s a lot less intense than wanting to fuck somebody, so it’s harder to think of the words.”

“That sounds really nice,” admitted Nicole. “There’s no way I can give you that.”

“Bitch, you are right now.”

“I’m not even doing anything.”

“Yeah. Exactly. And I’m still feeling it.” Jecka chuckled. “I thought that would be harder to admit.”

“Seriously? You did it like it was nothing.”

“Yeah. Look at that. I like you, and you make me happy. I can say that, to your face, and you’re not even dead.” Jecka stared at her for about as long as she probably could before her eyes snapped back to the road. “I know this is hard, Nicole, I get it, but if you actually want to do this—wait, shit, do you?”

“I haven’t said no.”

“That’s not yes!”

“Jecka, I don’t want to ruin everything. That should really say enough.”

“It doesn’t! That’s what I’m saying here. I need something. I need more.”

“Okay, then tell me what to say and I’ll say it.” Nicole shrugged. “No way it’s not something I’ll agree with.”

“Don’t be like that! I’m not going to tell you how you feel—even if it’s all muddy and muted and shit, you clearly like being around me! Come on, Nicole, don’t lead me on like this. Please.”

“I wasn’t trying to!”

“Great! How do you feel about me?”

“Hey, woah.” Nicole raised her palms. “You said I wouldn’t have to open up.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” Jecka rolled her eyes. “This barely counts.”

“Do we have to do this now?”

“Yes. We do. We need our stories straight for once.” Jecka snickered along with Nicole at that. “Stories straight. Too late for that.”

“That’s such a bad joke.”

“You still laughed.”

“Yeah, I did.” Nicole took a very deep breath and closed her eyes. Her head was still an absolute nightmare of a mess. A bile filled toxic waste dump, and no single part of it was clean, or clear, so Nicole honestly had no idea how to answer that question without making shit up that she really hoped would sound true. That she hoped was true. “Okay, I…uhm—fuck, why do you have to rush me on this? I don’t think that’s a thing you should do.”

“Everything about this is wrong, Nicole. Embrace it or don’t.”

“I barely know how I feel about anything.”

“Shit, I know. Shit.” Jecka chewed on her lip. “Hm, okay. Do you hate me?”

“No.”

“Do you like hanging out with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“Yes.” Nicole decided to just let Jecka fish for compliments for once. “Really pretty.”

“How pretty?”

“Eleven out of ten.”

“Do you like the idea of being with me?”

“Y—yeah. That sounds cool.”

“Start there.”

“Start?” Nicole snorted. “Was that not already starting? I don’t even know where to go from here, Jecka.”

“Bitch, just say fucking something. Literally anything that’s not a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or a number. I need you to do this for me, Nicole.”

“Okay, okay, holy shit, okay!” Nicole stared at the roof of the sedan and actually felt her heart slam in her chest. Must be terrified. That was a good sign, right? “Can you, like, give me a starting word, or—”

“This isn’t improv! Just talk and see what comes out!”

If anyone else had asked her to do that, Nicole would tell them to fuck off, and then rattle off a series of deconstructing insults and comments intended to cause as close to a total emotional and psychological breakdown as possible. Break them so they never think of fucking with her, of talking to her, ever again. Get them to back off and leave her alone.

Nicole didn’t want to do that. She wanted to do the opposite, but had absolutely no idea how. If she winged it, would that be worse? Or would that be more honest? Did Jecka care about honesty? No, well, yeah, when it was about her or them or…stuff.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” whispered Nicole, finally, not even needing to force it through her teeth. “I think you’re the best friend I could ever have.” She was crying again and didn’t want to stop talking because she had no faith in herself that she could start again. “You’re always happy—no, you’re always excited to see me. And you…” She sighed. “Don’t want me to die probably as much as I don’t want you to die.”

“That’s enough.” Jecka held up her hand when Nicole opened her mouth again. “I don’t need anything else. I, like, actually won’t believe another word out of your mouth right now. We can…” She sighed. “Talk about this again. Later.”

“Okay.” Nicole shivered and reached into the glove compartment hoping for tissues, and found some, clumsily cleaning herself up and blowing her nose. “Was—was that good?”

“Yeah. That was good.” Jecka smiled at her. “You are so fucked up, Nicole.”

“I know.”

“You so much as twitch in the direction as the shit you pulled with Ari and I will drop your ass without a second thought,” warned Jecka. “Are we clear?”

“Yeah.” Nicole nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Do I need to worry about that?”

“I don’t fucking know. Maybe.” Nicole clutched her gut. “You might. I really have no idea.”

“Yeah, but, like, you don’t want to.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“So, what are you worried about?”

“That’ll I just do it anyway without thinking about it. Rip you apart down to the bones.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Figurative.”

“Okay, look, Nicole…” Jecka scoffed. “To really hurt somebody, you need to know their type, or you need to know them, right?”

“Yeah? I guess? I’ve never really thought about the process like that.”

“Tell me what you’d say.” Jecka glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “I can take it.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to abuse you!”

“That’s not what you’re doing—okay, you are, but—” Jecka shrugged. “I can tell you exactly what will happen, no matter what you say. Even if it’s the most vile, horrible, mean, disgusting, cruel, and evil fucking thing anyone could ever say to me…” She trailed off, her confidence wavering as her mouth began to sag. “Actually, now that I’m here, I don’t want to test this at all.”

“Okay, but what were you going to do?”

“Something stupid like kiss you to get you to shut the fuck up and then talk about how ‘wow, see, you really do understand me’ or something like that.”

“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to react to the threat of somebody you like and makes you happy eviscerating your soul.” Nicole’s eyes widened. “Okay, maybe you’re actually as fucked up as you keep saying you are.”

“Duh, bitch. Remember, I wanted this.”

“How specifically this, exactly?” asked Nicole. “You wanted to save me?”

“Yeah. Not proud of loving the romantic angle there, but yeah.”

“Gotcha.” Nicole swallowed and decided to—wait, was it really opening up if the topic was already on the table? No, nah, it wasn’t. Was just a conversation. No heart-stabbing necessary. “Remember how I asked you to not stop talking? The first time?”

“Literally can’t ever forget that.”

“Yeah, so, you’ve kind of…” Nicole fidgeted with her fingers. “Been a reason for me to wake up in the morning for a really long time.”

“How—how much of one?” asked Jecka, her voice cracking. “How long?”

“A couple hundred times.” Nicole shrugged. “Probably about a week after I met you.”

“So, the reason I saw you in the morning, the reason you got out of bed, several hundred times, was because…” Jecka swallowed and her breath caught in her throat. “You wanted to talk to me. Right?”

“Yeah—well, okay, more that I wanted to hear you talk.”

“That’s the most dark, sweetest, fucked up, and romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Jecka whimpered into a cry, an odd smile spreading across her lips. “You know, I—I never feel like people listen to me or take me all that seriously, but then there’s this, and you, and—all of this horrible shit.”

“Really didn't think you’d take that positively.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I saved your life several hundred times, Nicole. Not just today! I’ve been doing what I wanted to do for a long time.” Jecka laughed. “It’s one hell of a power trip. You may as well have just told me you like me so much you chose to not to kill yourself.”

Nicole blushed so much she felt her cheeks might actually explode.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Bitch, you’re just as dumb as me.”

“Mhmm, we are intellectual equals.” Jecka pulled into her parent’s driveway. “I think we’re about as gross, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Ready?”

“No.” Nicole shook her head. “I’m really not. Even if we don’t have to actually lie to your parents or my mom.”

“Yeah, I am really bad at that, so this is gonna be way easier. Still hard, but, y’know, not as much.” Jecka took a closer look at her. “What’re you not ready for then?”

“Come on. You know.”

“Bitch, if I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Ugh.” Nicole buried her head in her hands. “You want to make out and shit, right?”

“So much, yes, oh my God. Except, also, Nicole, no. No, I don’t. All of that can wait.” Jecka very hesitantly tucked some of Nicole’s hair behind her ear. “You’re not okay right now. I just want to help you feel okay.”

Nicole knew she shouldn’t be thinking about other people. Other girls. She knew she shouldn’t be comparing Jecka to anyone, since Jecka was her own person, and she didn’t need to be put next to other people like a show dog or some shit like that. She still did it, because the thought she had basically consumed her brain. About how different things—well, not felt, but sounded.

About how the sound of desperation and obsession and devotion all sounded like bullshit, and always had. How the echoes of emotional addiction were basically static that she could twist and bend like a toy until they snapped. And how quiet actual, real, sincere, genuine sympathy was.

Satisfied silence, except it wasn’t totally inaudible. No, there was breathing there. There was a heartbeat. Crinkling of eyes and fingers. Rustling of cloth. And, most importantly, actual words that weren’t just empty or thinly veiled attempts at fucking her.

‘I just want to help you feel okay.’

And nobody, nobody, had ever wanted to truly help Nicole—with all the bullshit baggage she brought with her—for no other reason than that they cared about her.

Nicole didn’t kiss Jecka. She did the other thing she remembered Jecka saying that you needed to do with somebody you are super into. The thing you had to do or it’d feel like you’d die. She hugged her as hard and as tight as she could, stretching the seatbelt, legs still wobbly and arms noodles, burying her mess of a face in Jecka’s shoulder. She squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, until her upper body was basically numb, her muscles still screeching and sore from a day of shivering.

She felt less like death.

“I wish I was a cool enough bitch to not cry my eyes out right now,” whimpered Jecka, hugging her back, almost gasping for air. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how this is going to work, or how we’re going to get your meds, but—but we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Nicole nodded into her shoulder and whimpered. Thoughts didn’t exist anymore. Not as long as she kept hugging her, which worked even better than talking—fuck, and it stopped working. Fuck!

“We should probably—”

“Five more minutes,” said Nicole, almost totally muffled because her face was sliding down into Jecka’s neck and chest from how much she was crying. “Please.”

“We can do this for literally hours in my room, Nicole.” Jecka laughed, and it sounded so nice, the vibrations from her lungs rumbling past Nicole’s head. “But I guess that’d ruin the moment right now.”

Nicole nodded and bit back a whimper, her shoulders shaking.

“Can, uhm, can I turn on the radio?”

“Are you bored?!” snapped Nicole, her face still very much muffled. “Bitch, how are you bored?!”

“I’m not bored, it’s just—a five minute hug is longer than you think it is, okay?”

“Fuck off, no it’s not!”

“Okay. Fine. No radio.”

Nicole lasted another maybe thirty seconds before realizing that Jecka was right. She let her go and sat back up, failing to clean off her face all that much as she slowly started to stop crying. She took a very deep breath, ran her hands through her hair, swallowed, and nodded.

“Bitch, I told you so.”

“Shut up,” grumbled Nicole. “How did you even know that?”

“Grandpa was a really huggy person; that wasn’t weird, though, it just took forever. It’s probably less awkward when we’re like, in bed, or something, I think?” suggested Jecka. “Probably?”

“If it isn’t, I have no fucking idea how anyone makes this shit work.”

“Totally, yeah.” Jecka undid both of their seatbelts. “Ready?”

“Still no, but…” Nicole took a very deep breath. “I got out of bed, so, why stop there?”

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

And, at this point, she wasn’t even sure what was the biggest motivator. There was so much bullshit and insanity swirling around her life, around Jecka’s life, that it really seemed like ‘choose your own adventure’ book where every option was dying because the author was a giant asshole. Turn to page fifteen, you’re dead. Page forty-two, you’re dead. Inside cover—dead.

Dead, dead, dead, dead. Dead.

But, that’d have to wait. Jecka wanted to help her. May as well let her try, even if she was probably maybe going to fail. Still, the idea, the reality, that Jecka was going to try, that—that was a lot. It’d never stop being a lot.

Basically everything, honestly.

Jecka’s mom had turned out to be an almost embarrassingly easy sell on the whole ‘we’re gay, and also for each other, leave us alone while we figure out all of these weird feelings’ deal, which was probably because literally none of that was even close to a lie. Nicole didn’t even talk for that conversation. She chose the ‘stand there and look pretty’ route.

As pretty as she could look after the day she’d had. It hadn’t even taken five minutes for them to vanish up the stairs and into Jecka’s room, since her mom sure seemed keyed up to say yes to literally everything out of Jecka’s mouth. The first stage of the plan had gone off basically without a single hitch. Turns out, it was super easy to just come out to family when it was for somebody else’s sake!

Anyway, all of that didn’t happen and was a complete bullshit fantasy that Nicole briefly imagined playing out in the ten seconds before they actually got into Jecka’s house.

No, what actually happened was about as agonizing and awkward and scary as you’d think it would be to come out to a super liberal mom with a drug problem that kind of already guessed some stuff about her daughter.

Nah, it didn’t even go that good, either!

Why would it? There was a reason Nicole was so ‘inconsistent’ with the closet, even if it wasn’t entirely intentional. Once you’re out? Even if you try to go back in, even if you delude yourself, even if you were actually wrong and are straight, everybody you know will always be waiting for you to come out again.

You’ll always be one of those. Depending on where you lived, that meant freak, abomination, liar, degenerate, or even something as supposedly benign as ‘irritating bitch’. Bottom line was that you were different, even more than you already were. Did you want to be different? Forever?

Nicole had never held any real respect or admiration for Ari before all of that confidence she and Jecka had completely went up in smoke once they opened the door. How the fuck had Ari managed to do this alone? Dammit, she didn’t. Nicole forced her out to prove a point that she was right about, mostly.

Sure, nobody was surprised with Ari, she was so bad at hiding it, but she stayed out after waffling for a month or so. Megan, as far as Nicole had been told, was either too scared to take that step or really was straight. She hadn’t done ‘irreparable damage’ to her reputation, so she’d backed out. Kelly seemed so bizarrely indifferent to the concept of anything being weird once Jecka had suggested ‘girls’ as less a party game and more real that she might’ve actually been so ditzy that none of this shit even registered for her.

Man, imagine being so stupid, or at least that air headed, that society just rolls off your back. It probably didn’t actually work like that for Kelly, but that sounded so awesome. Wait, no, Jecka hated Kelly.

Fuck that bitch. Probably narcs on other gay or bi-curious or lesbian hos for, uh, gas money or some shit.

Whatever, and then there was Emily. Emily shouldn’t be counted in literally any collection of data or statistics, because she was Emily, and she could just kind of do whatever she wanted and it’d work for her. Was there a way to channel that energy? Just act like the most badass and gorgeous bitch ever, and shrug it all off?

Yeah, it was possible.

If Nicole hadn’t been suffering from withdrawal and a day-long anxiety nightmare while Jecka was exhausting herself just to keep her alive every single minute, it was totally possible. So, not currently possible.

“Hey, Mom. I know this is really sudden, but some stuff happened, and we’re, uhm…” Jecka froze completely solid, standing just in the doorway of her house, staring at her mom, and then, after a few seconds, elbowed Nicole. “Nicole, you can explain this better!”

“I can give it a shot.” Nicole kept her hands in her pockets and tried to calm herself down, her heart slamming in her chest, and the mental image of both her and Jecka being burned at the stake while they made out until death not helping anything. “But then you have to talk to my mom.”

“I am not doing that. Ugh, okay, fine.” Jecka held her palms out in front of herself, steadying herself, and looking anywhere but at her mom, who was just standing there, probably kind of high, expectantly. Oddly patient. Could just be the drugs. “Mom, I—I’m…” She trailed off, her hands making fists as she grunted. “Crap, I thought I—nevermind, forget I—”

Nicole, hands shaking violently, reached out and held one of Jecka’s before she could stop herself. It probably felt disgusting with her clammy, freezing hands, but what the fuck else was she supposed to do? Let Jecka flounder there in total silence and back out? Wait, yes, she could’ve, she could’ve just—they didn’t need to do this! They could have just run up the stairs and figured out something else!

But then they’d be hiding, and that would be bullshit. If anybody needed this, it was Jecka. And maybe Nicole did, too. Maybe.

“I…” Jecka squeezed her hand back, and Nicole could actually feel both of their hearts slow a little bit. How much of that romantic bullshit was medically accurate? How did that even make sense? Sure, it was cool, sort of, that it was true, but why? “We’re…”

“Sweetie, there’s no need to push yourself or rush,” said Jecka’s Mom, and it hurt how sincere that sounded. No parent was ever going to be perfect or helpful or nice, but Jecka’s mom was way closer to good than Nicole’s. She raised Jecka, and so did her dad, probably. Disciplinary tattoos notwithstanding, which might’ve been a joke? Jecka wasn’t willing to risk it, regardless. “Just breathe and take your time.”

“I’ll be standing here forever if I actually do,” whispered Jecka, and it was not lost on Nicole that she didn’t say they were lesbians. “We’re dating.”

“Alright.” Jecka’s Mom nodded very carefully. “I’m not really sure what you want me to say, Jessica.”

“Ugh, that’s not my name and you know it,” grumbled Jecka. “Am I kicked out of the house? There’s a lot of feelings happening and stuff, so, uhm. Yeah.”

“Sweetie, you don’t need to worry about me,” said Jecka’s Mom. Loving that implication. “I’m not going to kick you out on the street for experimenting at your age. Dad’s a different story, but we can discuss how to bring this up, if you want to, later.”

“What would dad have a bigger problem with?” Jecka tensed so much that Nicole was concerned her jaw might snap. “Experimenting or, you know, other stuff?”

“Jessica, be very careful with what you’re saying.” Jecka’s Mom set her hands on her hips. “There are a lot of things you can’t ever take back.”

“That’s your advice, Mom? Shut up and don’t tell dad?”

“Am I wrong?”

“No.” Jecka took a shaky breath, her eyes sinking into her skull. “You’re not.”

“Since you clearly can’t wait until you’re in college and out of the house for this, all I ask is that you two be discreet. For your own good.”

“Oh, what, you just assumed I’d do this in college no matter what?” snipped Jecka, frowning, squeezing Nicole’s hand harder. “Why would you think that, Mom?”

“You’re my daughter, Jessica. I’d be shocked if you didn’t.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Language, Jessica!”

“Whatever.” Jecka dragged Nicole up the stairs by her hand. “Thanks for not kicking me out, I guess. Don’t tell Dad. Forget you saw anything. We’re not talking about this.”

“If that’s what you want, Jessica, then that’s perfectly fine.” Jecka’s Mom gave them a half-hearted wave. “Are you staying for dinner, Nicole?”

“Probably, yeah,” said Nicole, still being yanked up to the second floor. “Thanks.”

“Stop engaging with her,” whispered Jecka, pushing Nicole and quickly slamming the door behind the both of them, locking it. “What the fuck? What the fuck? Why did we think we could do that?!”

“It seemed really smart five minutes ago.” Nicole rubbed her hand and kind of missed Jecka’s being there. Stupid romance bullshit. Stupid lies not being entirely lies. Such bullshit. “Sorry your parents are, uh, like that.”

“My mom’s, like, a secret lesbian, then? Is that what she meant?” panicked Jecka, clutching the sides of her head. “Or, did she mean she also fooled around with girls at my age and then just ‘moved on’? Does that always happen? Or—or is that why she shoots up? Because she’s gay and miserable and doesn’t know why?”

“Let’s not psychoanalyze your mom. It kinda sounded like she just didn’t expect to deal with this until you were already out of the house.”

“I guess? Oh my God, why did we ever think we could just walk in and do that? I don’t think we could do it even if you weren’t basically melting.”

“I dunno, maybe my confidence really is that addictive. And maybe seeing you that confident makes it go in circles.” Nicole shrugged. “Look, you didn’t get kicked out. Do you think your mom is going to rat you out?”

“I once set the living room rug on fire and she let me blame it on the neighbor’s dog. She’s not gonna snitch so long as I keep up every other aspect of appearances.” Jecka took a very deep breath. “Whatever. What do we do now?” She sniffed the air and her eyes locked completely on Nicole’s. She was still blinking, but she didn’t look like she was enjoying that she was doing it. “Ew, you need new clothes. You’ve sweat through literally all of yours.”

“Shit, have I?” Nicole peeled her jacket off and realized that needing to peel clothing off of other clothes probably meant that Jecka was extremely right. “I don’t know why I even bothered to check. Why would you even lie about that?”

“I wouldn't, because you reek.” Jecka shrugged, grabbing Nicole’s stinky jacket. “Change into something that looks comfy, okay?”

“What, no shower?”

“Same problem as the bathroom, Nicole.”

“I don’t think it is, but okay. Do you have designer pajamas?”

“I don’t really get to choose what I get half the time, so, yeah. They just send a big box of stuff in me and mom’s size every season.” Jecka stared at her for a second. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’m in a very vulnerable place and I want to feel all nice and warm and safe,” said Nicole, the joke completely shattering the longer she got into the sentence with her voice cracking and her heart starting to slam in her chest again. “Are they the comfiest?”

“They are,” admitted Jecka. “Bottom shelf. They’re salmon and they—”

“They’re salmon?” Nicole snorted. “Not coral or rose gold? Not cerise?”

“They are salmon, and they feel like how you imagine a cloud would. Not like a cloud, Nicole. How you imagine a cloud would feel.” Jecka took off her own jacket and hung both on the hook on the back of her door, obscuring the magazine cut-out poster of Justin Hartley she’d taped to it. “Are you hungry? I think we have a bag of tortilla chips or something in the pantry.”

“Pretty sure I’m just going to vomit anything I try to eat right now. Maybe later.” Nicole opened Jecka’s closet and quickly found the pajamas, picking up the bottoms and rubbing the material between her fingers. “Holy shit, it’s actually salmon, and it does feel like how I’d imagine a cloud would.”

“Those aren’t a gift. You’re borrowing them. I really love sleeping in them.” Jecka started rummaging through the giant rack of CDs by her bed. “What do you want to listen to?”

“I’m not dying, Jecka.” Nicole sighed as she realized what she’d just said and looked over her shoulder, entirely expecting the pained glare Jecka was shooting her. “Well, I’m not!”

“I don’t trust you right now.”

“You shouldn’t. I don’t trust me right now.” Nicole yanked her shirt off and did not like how much it was sticking to her skin. “Jesus, how am I not dehydrated?”

“You probably are.” Jecka sighed and sat down at her desk, her lips crooking. “There should be an old sports bra somewhere in there. I think that’ll fit okay.”

“Jecka, your tits are way bigger than mine.”

“I said old sports bra! I didn’t fucking sprout them in a day, Nicole!

“Whatever, you wear a bra with pajamas? You wear a sports bar with pajamas?”

“No, but—” Jecka shrugged. “If you wanted to.”

“Why would I want to?”

“Because that way you don’t get boob sweat all over my designer fucking pajamas!”

“This is why I wanted to take a shower.” Nicole stiffened as Jecka blushed, averting her eyes. “Dude, I don’t even want to take one with you right now.”

“It’s either that or I watch you. And I feel really gross doing either right now.

“Jecka, I’m not going to kill myself at your house.”

“I can’t trust you, Nicole.”

“What if I leave the door open a crack and talk to you the whole time?”

“Just take a shower and don’t kill yourself.” Jecka opened her window a little and then mostly closed the curtains. “I’ll just wait here and freak myself out, imagining all of the ways I let you down that led you to die in my bathroom.”

“You don’t have to guilt me. I already feel shitty enough as it is.”

“I do for me.” Jecka reached underneath her keyboard tray and produced a pack of cigarettes, quickly lighting one and taking a drag, exhaling out the tiny gap she’d left in the curtains. “Go ahead. And drink some water, too. Should be a cup on the sink.”

“Just watch your alarm clock or something,” suggested Nicole. “If I take longer than half an hour—”

“Bitch, you are rinsing off, not doing the whole routine. You need, at most, ten.”

“Okay, fine, ten minutes.” Nicole folded up the pajamas and kind of forgot she wasn’t wearing a shirt the entire time. “You have my permission to jump in there and drag me out, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m probably going to lose it and kick my own door down after five.”

“Oh, you learned how to do that?”

“Looked it up on YouTube, yeah. But I won’t have to show you because you won’t be locking it.”

Nicole snorted at that and slipped into Jecka’s bathroom. Hers was actually private and had one of those glass door showers instead of a curtain and tub, which Nicole had forgotten about. Yeah, there really wasn’t a way to just sort of hang out in the bathroom without it being weird. Even fogged up glass wouldn’t cover up all that much.

She considered skipping the ‘drink some water’ part, but there was a decent chance she wouldn’t be so dizzy if she followed Jecka’s instructions more closely. So, she did. Downed four of a tiny ass plastic cup Jecka used for—pills and brushing her teeth? Why didn’t she just swallow dry and use her hand to scoop the water from the faucet?

Okay, totally possible that Nicole was just raised trashy because a cup sounded less stupid the more she thought about it. Stop thinking. Get in the shower so you can stop thinking. It’ll feel good. You’ll feel better.

Whatever crazy water heater Jecka’s parents had bought didn’t need time to get going, so the scalding water running down her head and back was pretty much instant. Made most of her skin red and it hurt, goosebumps feeling like they were being burned away—one giant aching itch getting scratched all at the same time, digging up dead skin, layer after layer falling off as it pooled at the drain.

The showerhead was so loud, and perfect. Drowned out everything, even most of her own thoughts. Well, not really, but she imagined it did. She imagined that she wasn’t shivering, a little, in one-hundred-twenty degree water. She imagined that her hair didn’t feel foreign to her body. She imagined that she wasn’t extremely aware of the fresh and unopened pack of razors on the top metal shelf in the shower.

The kind you pop into a hand razor, like the pink one right next to the package. Designed to shave, not to break skin. For safety. Was that an improvement? Something to be thankful for? That her first instinct was to make new scars rather than go for her wrists or throat?

Well. Kinda.

Should she shave? That was obviously where things were headed, even if Jecka insisted that they weren’t. She should probably shave. But then she’d have to use Jecka’s razor, which might be too weird? Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, it’s not like she didn’t shave somewhat regularly, even if she’d started doing it more during and after dating Ari. She didn’t even ask Nicole to do that.

She’d just assumed—

Nicole screamed as Jecka yanked her out of the shower, without turning it off, drenching herself completely in scalding water, the both of them falling onto the floor. Jecka scrambled above her, her clammy hands poking and prodding at her old scars, her eyes red and puffy, searching for something wrong to fix.

“Bitch, get off me!” snapped Nicole, but Jecka didn’t listen. “That was maybe two minutes!”

“It was seven!” yelled Jecka, her breathing so short and panicked, eyes so wide in terror, her jaw tensing, hair sopping wet along with the rest of her, water dripping down to the tile floor more and more. “It was seven fucking minutes! I asked if you were okay and you didn’t answer! I thought you were dead or dying or fucking fuck!”

“Oh my God—I spaced out, alright?” Nicole shoved her off and sat up. “Your shower is really fucking loud, too.”

“Oh, is it?!”

“Yes!”

“Yeah.” Jecka took a very deep breath, rubbed her eyes, and exhaled. “Yeah, it is. I know it is.”

“Jecka, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Whatever, just don’t space out next time and listen harder.” Jecka stood back up and looked down at herself, grimacing. “Great. You’re not even bleeding, and I need to change for no reason.” She shut off the shower. “Awesome.”

“Yeahhhh, no, this is definitely all about you.” Nicole snorted and ran her hands through her wet hair. “Can I have a towel?”

“You didn’t find one before you got in the shower? Are you psychotic?” Jecka pulled a towel out from below several other kinds of towels and didn’t throw it at her. Handed it. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Nicole stood up, took the towel, and started with her face—why was there snot everywhere? “I’m crying, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“Must be the hot water and my sinuses clearing.”

“Sure.” Jecka snickered and crossed her arms, leaning against the sink. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“I need to tell myself more and more every day.” Nicole shut off the shower and glanced at Jecka, wrapping the towel around herself. “Don’t you need to change?”

“I will once you’re safely back in my room and in my designer pajamas.”

“So, you’re just going to stand there in soaking clothes?”

“That’s right.”

“Wow, you must be really into me.”

“Honestly?” Jecka wiped her eyes again. “Yeah. I am.”

“First time I’ve ever believed that wasn’t just thinly veiled code for ‘the only cure for my boner is you’.” Nicole started drying herself off. “And, uh, not for the obvious reason.”

“No, I get it.” Jecka shivered. “Your leg—the scar is bigger than I remember.”

“Which?”

“The one from where you got shot, Nicole!”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s pretty big. So…” Nicole shrugged and kind of failed at drying her hair. “Everything you wanted?”

“I’ve seen you naked like a hundred times already.”

“Yeah, but never for this long. So, am I everything you wanted?”

“I want you to not die. Same problem as making out. You are not okay. It’s a little difficult for me to even try and appreciate what I’m looking at right now.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, fine, I feel disgusting at how pretty you are.”

“Pretty?” Nicole’s eyes drifted down to both the tiny faded scars on her arms and legs, as well as the much newer ones. “Are we looking at the same thing?”

“Nicole, just because you’re falling apart doesn’t mean I’m going to shower you with compliments right after a literal shower. You know you’re pretty.”

“Yeah, but when you’re naked, you stop being pretty. You can only be hot.”

“Bitch, you are pretty when you’re naked, okay?”

“Okay.” Nicole fought a blush and wrapped her towel around herself again, feeling not even a little exposed. “Wanna make out?”

“Nicole, stop offering things you’re really not okay to do.” Jecka rolled her eyes. “You are still crying.”

“What? No, I’m—” Nicole rubbed her nose and lips and found even more snot and tears. “Goddammit, how do I not even know it's happening?”

“Your head is really scrambled. Could be anything.” Jecka opened the bathroom door, the steam from the shower flowing out into her bedroom. “Here. C’mon. Get dressed so I can change.”

“Do you need to watch that, too?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t bother me if you enjoy it.”

“Shut up.”

Nicole briefly considered making a show of changing out of the towel and into fancy pajamas, and even retying her hair pack into a ponytail, but the moment she started thinking about it, she started shivering and snot came running again. Jecka probably would have hated that she didn’t hate it, anyway. Not her fault, though.

Expectations were unavoidable. It didn’t matter how many times Jecka told her she didn’t want anything to happen until Nicole was ‘okay’, whatever the hell that even meant. Nicole still knew what she should be doing. What her job was, even when she was with another girl.

Ari was extremely desperate, and always needed that kind of attention to shut her up. Emily—well, okay, Nicole still couldn’t remember anything about what the fuck happened with Emily, but if it really was one long night, then wouldn’t that be a reason why they didn’t stop? Mutual expectation? Just a big stupid loop not even thinking about what they wanted to do and only what they should?

Nicole barely had time to sit down in the center of Jecka’s bed, the darker pink sheets really way too fitting for her, still adjusting to the comfy pajamas, before Jecka started giggling at her. Nicole didn’t laugh with her. She slumped there, blowing her hair out of her face and rubbing her arms, because, damn, they really did feel like how she imagined clouds would.

“You look ridiculous in those,” snickered Jecka, flipping through her clothes hangers. “Salmon really isn’t your color.”

“Kinda feel like teasing the in crisis teenage girl you just started dating an hour ago is a party foul.”

“You saw yourself in the mirror.” Jecka gave her one last look before frantically changing into a loose shirt and shorts. “What did you think?”

“You’re really pretty when you’re naked, too.”

“No, I meant about the pajamas.” Jecka blushed and laughed once. “I think that might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“Not a compliment if it’s true.” Nicole swallowed as Jecka hopped onto the bed, settling beside her. “You’ve got a landline in here, right?”

“Yeah.” Jecka pointed to the cordless phone on her desk. “Is your cell dead?”

“No, it’s fine. I was just thinking we could order a pizza. Pass the time or whatever.”

“We’re broke and my mom’s making something.”

“Fuck, that’s right.” Nicole looked over at her jacket, hanging right next to Jecka’s, the pill bottles still in the pockets. “I don’t know what to do other than sex now.”

“We’re not doing that. Stop suggesting it. You still look like you’re dying, and I’m pretty sure your brain is made of the thinnest black ice ever.” Jecka shook her head. “We can just hang out. This doesn’t need to be any different than usual.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then we’re not really dating, are we?”

“Nicole, don’t you think it’s a little fucked up that we’re not dating unless you fuck me? What about you? What do you want?”

“To make you happy, I guess.”

“Okay, well, that’s way sweeter than I thought it’d be.” Jecka crossed her arms and huffed. “Yeah, sex would do that.”

“Right, so, see the problem? That’s the only way I know how to do that, Jecka. If I can’t do that, I’m dead weight.”

“I said sex would make me happy, not that sex is the only thing that would make me happy. The fact that you want to make me happy kinda already makes me happy.”

“Is any of the other stuff that’d make you happy as effective at making you happy as sex?”

“No, not really,” grumbled Jecka. “I mean, I don’t even—it’s just a guess, Nicole. I’ve never actually had good sex, so I’m assuming that would make me happy.”

“It totally will, though, which means I’m making you unhappy by not doing that.”

“I’m not unhappy. I just said you were making me happy!” stressed Jecka. “I’m just—”

“Extremely horny?”

“Fuck, I am, yeah,” admitted Jecka, collapsing back onto her bed. “What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just be chill with you here?”

Nicole’s skull wasn’t swimming in formaldehyde. It wasn’t muted or deaf. It was vaguely aware of other sensations, and the loudest one she could hear was Jecka’s tiny little self-hating whimper, which squeezed her own heart in a vice. And it was right then that pity sex finally made sense to Nicole. It would be so depressing and sad if Jecka didn’t get what she really deserved for all she’d done, and not just that day.

Every single day that Nicole got out of bed because of Jecka. That warranted something, right?

It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be okay. Jecka probably wouldn’t murder or rape anybody if Nicole did nothing, which really only made her feel more guilty about the idea of not doing anything. She could pull herself together, and push through. That’s what Jecka had been doing all day, right?

Jecka was asking Nicole for help because she trusted her. Sure, it wasn’t a life and death problem, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t important. It mattered to Jecka. Mattered so much she wanted to put it off until everything wasn’t as shitty, even if that meant she was being a huge hypocrite. No point in waiting for the ‘perfect’ time, since it’d never come.

Nicole swallowed down her anxiety, her toxic bullshit, as far as she could, and slowly crawled on top of Jecka, staring down at her. She didn’t say anything, just lowered down closer and kissed her hand. Hand? Wait, that’s not—oh. Hm.

She might have miscalculated.

Jecka’s hand was covering Nicole’s face and the enraged and pained scowl she could see through her fingers was wet with Nicole’s tears. She grabbed her and flipped them both over, pinning her down on the bed with the most agonized and conflicted twisting face Nicole had ever seen.

“You are killing me, Nicole,” snarled Jecka. “I want this so bad. We can’t. This is not okay! Stop making this harder than it already is!”

“Why the fuck do you keep telling me no?!” snapped Nicole, wriggling out of her grip and frowning up at her. “I can pull myself together long enough to do this for you, Jecka! Let me make you happy!”

“You already are, you stupid bitch!”

“You’re lying. I know you’re lying.”

“So what if I am?!” Jecka didn’t climb off of her. She didn’t move at all. “This isn’t what I want,” she repeated, convincing nobody. “This isn’t right. This isn’t something you should be okay with.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever had a reason to do this that wasn’t to shut somebody up or not die, Jecka.” Nicole almost couldn’t breathe as her throat started to rasp, her heart slamming in her ears. Wasn’t the same kind of anxiety. “I’m trying to thank you.”

“You want to have pity sex with me?!”

“No, not—it’s not the same thing! I really want to say ‘thank you’, because I like you, and this is the only way I know how to do that. Aside from saying ‘thanks’ a million times, but that doesn’t really mean fucking anything after the fortieth time.”

“Nicole, I don’t need you to thank me in any other way that isn’t staying alive,” whimpered Jecka, still not crawling off of her. “This can wait. It can wait, okay? I can wait.”

“No, you can’t.” Nicole shook her head. “You feel like you’re going to die if you don’t do something, right?”

“Stop being okay with this.” Jecka shivered above her. “I’m begging you to stop. Stop it.”

“You want to help me, don’t you? I want to help you, too.”

“I’m not the one who almost killed themselves this morning, Nicole.”

“You saved the princess. You saved me,” repeated Nicole, quadrupling down because she knew she was right. Jecka needed this, something, anything, and that was fine by her. Even if she, kinda, maybe wouldn’t feel so awesome afterward. “Isn’t this everything you wanted? What you dreamed of? One more thing left to seal the deal. I’m right here. Take me.”

“Everything you’re saying—” Jecka searched her eyes, lowering a little bit. “You actually mean it. You really think you can do this.”

“I know I can.”

“You’re wrong.” Jecka took a very deep breath. “And I’m a liar.”

“I promise you’re the bigger liar, here.”

“Nicole.” Jecka lowered herself further, her eyes hardening. “I don’t want a doll or a toy. I want my best friend. It’s scaring me a little how you sound like both right now.”

“I sound like a doll, or a toy?” Nicole raised her brows. “What?”

“You’re just going to keep pushing through it, right? Let yourself be used or use yourself as the weirdest dildo or strap-on or vibrator ever?” Jecka sighed and got even closer. “If you do this, Nicole, if I let you, that’s all it’ll be. Then you’ll feel used up and even more fucked up than you do now.”

“We don’t know that’s what would happen. Maybe you stop feeling like shit, and then it’s just me. Better just one of us than both of us.”

“What the fuck?” Jecka paled, her eyes widening. “Oh my God, Nicole, that’s how much you care about me? You are actually—I thought you were being impulsive—”

“No, I’m not. I’m not just doing this. I’ve thought about it.”

“You really have, haven’t you?”

“Uh, yeah? Duh.”

“Shit.” Jecka bit her lip, her arms twitching. “I’m going to hell.”

“Bitch, where do you think I’m going?”

Jecka kissed her, once, twice, more, frantic, panicked, desperate, what was clearly supposed to be a peck forced both of their mouths open as she pushed more and more and more and more, hands embracing her as Nicole pulled her closer, knowing exactly what Jecka would want her to do.

The tears in Nicole’s eyes were both hers and Jecka’s, and there wasn’t any kind of magical pressure that lifted from her chest, but the way Jecka melted into her, relaxing, whimpering into a pained giggle, made it very clear that it did for Jecka.

Everything sorta stopped the second Nicole tried to slip her hand into Jecka’s shorts, the sound and stinging of it being smacked away on instinct and fear not exactly happening in tandem with Jecka pulling back. She kissed her for a couple more seconds, struggling, or it seemed like it, to stop, before she won against herself and pushed herself off of Nicole, rolling onto her back, out of breath and flushed from head to toe.

And still crying, a little, chewing on her lip, eyes so red and wet.

Nicole took her hand in hers without thinking again and vaguely felt kinda good. It was nice. Jecka’s lips were soft. All of her was soft. Warm. Like a hug she didn’t want to end.

“You are a terrifyingly good kisser,” whispered Jecka, staring up at her ceiling fan. “How did you learn to do that? Is it just practice with girls?”

“Nope.”

“Then how?”

“It’s not different from reading people,” admitted Nicole. “It’s just easier with girls. Guys are dipshits and don’t actually know what they want. Maybe subconsciously, but who has time for that? You’re right there on the surface.”

“I’m really not, Nicole. I think you just know me super well.” Jecka took a very deep breath and sat up, giving Nicole a sidelong glance. “Hey, you weirdly romantic bitch.” She pointed down at her, arm resting on her leg. “Try that shit again before you’re okay—no, wait, before I say it’s okay, and I’m driving you back home to your mom.”

“Fine with me.” Nicole smirked. “You got what you needed, right?”

“Yeah. I did.” Jecka sniffled a little and wiped her eyes. “I kept expecting to wake up even after you pinched me this morning, you know. It all seems too perfect.”

“This is probably the second worst day of my life, Jecka, but I am so happy that you’re living the dream.” Nicole rolled her eyes, still smirking, and chuckled. “No, seriously, that’s something. I thought I was making you miserable and vaguely happy in spite of that.”

“I’m not saying I’m having the best day ever. I’m also not saying it isn’t, but it’s more, like, it’s just—there’s a lot of catharsis here. I spent months and months fantasizing about what life would be like if Rachel hadn’t killed herself. Like, would I ever have figured out I was in love with her?” Jecka shrugged. “Or was it just the idea of her? Y’know, since she was dead, that was just sort of never gonna change?”

“No idea.”

“Nobody does,” sighed Jecka. “Nobody ever will.”

“Yeah—” Nicole screwed up her face because her Sidekick was vibrating. Her mom was calling. “Are we still in the closet? I know that’s a weird question after making out, but are we?”

“Yes, Nicole, it was a stupid fucking idea.” Jecka glanced down at Nicole’s cell. “You should probably answer that.”

“Why? So she can scream at me more?”

“It’ll probably be less annoying now than later.”

“Fine, whatever.” Nicole answered her phone. “What is it?”

“Nicole!” snapped Mom. “Is that how you answer the phone?”

“When you’re the one calling, yeah.” Nicole bit back a smirk at Jecka edging super closer to her, pressing her ear against the other side of the phone. “Sometimes.”

“That’s—we have other things to discuss. Where are you?”

“At Jecka’s.”

“I called the school—”

“Oh, your girlfriend called?” cut in Nicole, because why the hell not at this point. “I had a super thought provoking conversation with her today. You two have so much in common.”

“Girlfriend?! What on earth are you talking about?”

“Whatever you want me to be talking about,” said Nicole, shrugging, even as Jecka bit her finger to stifle her laughter. “Or not. I don’t really care. You said they called?”

“No, I said I called the school—okay, yes, fine, they called me. Are you happy now?”

“Haven’t been since Y2K was a flop, but thanks for noticing.”

“Nicole, the point is that I already know you actually attended all of your classes again, so, I’m wondering, how are you feeling today?”

“This is probably the second worst day of my life,” answered Nicole. “Frankly? Not a fan of withdrawal. Don’t see what all the ‘going cold turkey’ fuss is about. Cannot imagine why any addict would ever willingly do this.”

“Jesus Christ.” Mom sighed. “I’m going to pretend I don’t know what happened to your meds, Nicole, since by my math you did actually take them for a full month.” She scoffed. “I just hope you learned your lesson and at least made a decent amount of cash from whatever it is that I don’t know you did.”

“Mom, I—” Nicole stopped that argument as Jecka waved her hands through the air. “Yeah. I did. I won’t do it again. It’s not worth it.”

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. I’ll call your doctor and get them refilled at the pharmacy. Let’s pretend I accidentally flushed them down the toilet, or they spilled into the sink. You should be able to pick them up before they close later tonight. Can Jecka drive you there?”

Jecka nodded her head very vigorously and mouthed about eight different varieties of ‘why the fuck wouldn’t I?’.

“Yeah, she can.”

“Okay, be sure to thank her for me.”

“Yup.” Nicole decided to push her luck. “I’m staying over tonight.”

“Really now? This is the first I’m hearing of it. And why is that?”

“She’s going through some stuff. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s really personal.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Mhmm.” Nicole waited for her mom to hang up first. “I guess that just kind of solved itself.”

“What a bitch. She totally knows what she did and knows you know what she did!” Jecka threw up her hands. “She believed Principal Lynn but not you. What the fuck was the point of that?”

“It’s all about power. She controls whether or not I get my meds, and I’m easier to deal with if I have them.” Nicole slouched. “You wasted three grand. Sorry.”

“I wanna say something romantic, like, ‘no, I didn’t waste it, because I was trying to save you’, or something, but, uh, yeah, I did. I wasted three grand.”

“I’ll pay you back?”

“Just—just add it onto the ‘don’t die’ tab.” Jecka hopped off the bed and pulled Nicole’s pills out of her jacket pockets. “Okay, how does this work? I’m not a savant in chemistry so probably just the lexapro, right?”

“Neither.” Nicole shook her head. “You need to take this stuff at the same time every day, and I don’t want to take any of those unless I have no other options.” She sighed. “Not until we pick up the fresh ones from the pharmacy, okay? And even then, not until tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Alright.” Jecka settled back down on the bed. “That’s not really a waste of three grand, then.”

“How is it not?” asked Nicole, raising a brow. “You had to overpay by slightly less than three-thousand dollars.”

“Emergency stash. Just like the xanax in my car. Except yours are for if your mom pulls this bullshit again.” Jecka smiled. “After the hell I watched you suffer through today? Totally worth it.”

“That’s…really nice. Too nice. Way too nice.” Nicole furrowed her brow with extreme suspicion. “You can’t mean that.”

“Obviously, no, I don’t fucking mean it! That was three large! Three grand, Nicole!” snipped Jecka, that smile stretching across her face more and more as her voice tightened. “I could’ve installed an aux system in my car with that kind of cash. Or, I dunno, first class tickets to Miami or L.A. or anywhere.” She clenched her teeth and shifted closer, eyes widening. “I could have done so many awesome things with three thousand dollars that I’ve been saving for five fucking years, but I just had to blow it all on calling every asshole in my contact list and begging them to sell me some extremely specific drugs so my best friend wouldn’t kill herself!”

“That is not what happened,” defended Nicole. “You are suffering from some very concerning memory loss. Do you have amnesia? Does that run in your family? Oh, shit, you might not know you have amnesia.”

“I don’t have amnesia. I don’t even know what you’re trying to do here, Nicole. Did I actually remember something wrong—what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You blew three thousand dollars calling every asshole in your contact list begging them to sell you some extremely specific drugs so your girlfriend wouldn’t kill herself,” corrected Nicole, far more confidently and calmly than she expected herself to be. “See? Now does that sound nearly as bad or stupid? Or a waste?”

“Okay, this is the only time this is going to work. You get one, just one, ‘get out of bullshit’ card, and you are playing it exactly this second.” Jecka groaned and visibly relaxed. “You don’t have to pay me back this time. Next time? Standard interest rates.”

“Like, market rates? For loans?”

“Yes. The severity of how much it will cost to bail you out will be determined by the free market.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do I look like I’m kidding?! How much money have you ever had at one time? Money that was yours. Just yours. No strings attached.”

“Maybe two hundred bucks.” Nicole swallowed and turned onto her side, the guilt twisting her stomach in knots again and trying to escape out of her throat. “I don’t think I understand how much money that was.”

“No. You don’t.” Jecka glared down at her. “Are you going to try and argue that I wouldn’t have to pay as much if I wasn’t freaking out over the phone?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Not anymore, at least.” Nicole lifted her head and looked back at her. “Can you just say we’re cool so I can stop feeling like shit?”

“Fine. We’re cool. This’ll never happen again.” Jecka took a very deep breath. “Right?”

“I’m not going to try and get my mom to flush my meds again, no, Jecka, I can’t say that I will ever deliberately attempt to make that happen.” Nicole paused. “And your car has a tape deck. You don’t need an aux system. Just plug in one of those things that goes where you shove the cassettes.”

“It would be cooler if I had an aux system.”

“You can’t impress me with a mobile stereo,” chuckled Nicole. “You don’t need to impress me at all. That’s really weird.”

“It’s not for you. It’s for me. It would’ve been for me. Except, it’s not, because I can’t afford it now.” Jecka lay down next to her. “Okay, seriously, though, how much would you pay to never have to do that ever again?”

“Never do what?”

“Today.”

“Oh, shit, probably close to…” Nicole rolled back towards Jecka. “Ten-grand, honestly. Maybe more. If we didn’t find your xanax, I’d probably say half-a-million dollars.”

“It was that much worse than it looked?” Jecka grimaced. “I don’t feel as pissed about it now.”

“Yeah, really can’t totally explain how much of a living hell this was, Jecka. Not even in an artsy way, or exaggerating, no, like, actual living hell.”

“Alright, alright, okay, I get it.” Jecka slowly grew a tiny smile. “I don’t think I know anybody else who could make it through the day you had, Nicole.”

“Yeah, I dunno about that.” Nicole blushed and shoved her face into the comforter. “Thanks. Again.”

“Mhmm.” Jecka just kind of looked at her. “I have no idea what to do now.”

“Yup. This is what I was saying.” Nicole shrugged. “Sex is our only option.”

“No, it isn’t! Stop suggesting that, and more importantly, stop tempting me!”

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

Lying on Jecka’s bed, listening to her talk, mostly fresh out of the shower, kinda made out with her, and she still wanted to die. What an ungrateful, stupid, worthless bitch Nicole was. Can’t you just get your life together for a day? She’s giving you everything and you—

“Nicole,” boomed Jecka, snapping her out of her thoughts. Holy shit, she was so good at that. “We could watch 24,” she suggested, for what felt like the fiftieth time since they’d started brainstorming what the hell to even do but was really the first. “Make some popcorn.”

“I marathoned the end of season five last night,” said Nicole. “I need a break.”

“We could—”

“We’re not watching Smallville, either. Stop asking.”

“Why not? Seriously, why? You have never even given it a chance.”

“You’ve given me a hundred reasons to not. All you do is complain about how every episode ends with Clark Kent and Lana Lang staring at each other set to Coldplay.” Nicole frowned at her. “Do you even like Coldplay?”

“I don’t hate them. And there are other reasons to watch! Lois Lane is awesome in it, and there’s—uh, there’s the guy on my door!” Jecka pointed at the poster of the blonde doofus on the back of her door that they basically couldn't see because of their jackets. ”He’s really cute. He plays Oliver Queen.”

“Who’s Oliver Queen?”

“Green Arrow.”

“Who the fuck is the Green Arrow?”

“He’s like Robin Hood, but he’s already rich and gives his money and other rich people’s money to the poor.”

“If I promise to try it when I’m properly medicated, will you drop it?”

“Uh, yeah? Totally.” Jecka pumped her fist and giggled victoriously. “Gotcha.”

“Yeah, you got me.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “What’s so great about Lois Lane? Why her?”

“Oh, she just doesn’t give a fuck about all the teenager drama going on because she’s older and already working as a reporter for the Daily Planet!” beamed Jecka, her eyes actually lighting up. “She’s really cool.”

“Journalists aren’t cool. They care too much to be cool.”

“They care about fucking people over. Nicole, how do you think the news gets those stories about all of those assholes we hate? Watergate wasn’t the cops.” Jecka stared at her for a few seconds. “You’d actually be really good at that.”

“How about we get through today before I start thinking about career paths?” Nicole chewed on the inside of her cheek and mulled that idea over a little bit more. “That’s not a terrible idea, though. I do like the idea of being paid to publicly and meticulously destroy people’s lives with absolutely no hope of recovery.”

“Shitty people’s lives, Nicole.”

“I know that.”

“Okay, just checking.”

“Wouldn’t I need to, like, hold ‘the truth’ more sacred, or something?” asked Nicole, her heart pounding in her ears. “Or would I just need to instinctively want to know why something is fucked up and want it to stop? No, hold on, I’m no crusader. I don’t care about justice. I do care about revenge and retribution, though.”

“Retribution, revenge, and justice aren’t all that different if you boil them down. You get that, right?” Jecka shrugged. “It’s kinda more about how you do it. Like, maybe it’s violent, or petty, or whatever. That doesn’t get you published. But a full-on investigation? That turns heads.”

“Wouldn’t just be my word or your word against theirs.” Nicole pulled her legs closer. “Show up with enough evidence and it doesn’t matter how broken the system is. Yell loud enough, for long enough, and with enough other voices, and you’ll get heard.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “You’re on to something, Jecka.”

“Yeah, if only I could figure myself out.”

“You will.”

“I know.”

“So…” Nicole took a very deep breath and closed her eyes, shoving her face into the comforter. “In the spirit of journalism, I guess, I have a question.”

“I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?”

“Probably.”

“Okay.” Jecka shoved her so her face wasn’t buried anymore. “Get it over with.”

“I kinda don’t want to now.”

“What the fuck else are we supposed to talk about?” Jecka snorted. “I’m still ready to smack your hands away from getting too handsy.”

“Yeah, alright.” Nicole frowned and swallowed, narrowing her eyes at Jecka, and focusing very, very hard on wording all of this super perfectly. “Were there any warning signs for Rachel? Was there anything that might’ve clued somebody, anybody, in on what she was going to do?”

“Where is this coming from?” sputtered Jecka, her eyes widening. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Humor me.”

“You’re not going to—”

“Jecka, okay, don’t humor me, trust me,” stressed Nicole. “I’m not just asking this to ask it.”

“Ugh. Yeah. It can happen. That can happen,” grumbled Jecka. “Not everybody advertises like you. Most people don’t at all.”

“Any idea why she did it?”

“For fuck’s sake, Nicole, just tell me what you’re building to.”

“Principal Lynn said one of the teachers got fired the year before I got here. I think whoever that was might’ve molested Rachel,” blurted Nicole. “Maybe worse than that, I don’t know.”

Jecka frowned and stared at her, entirely silently.

“It’s just—I don’t know, Jecka, something about that is rubbing me in a really bad way. Something that sudden, she doesn’t write about you, and if she was depressed, I mean, you’d have already told me,” elaborated Nicole, talking faster and faster. “Nobody wants to talk about her, which is bullshit, except, even for somebody who’s not popular, why the fuck would people pretend she didn’t exist unless it was to deny something else?”

“That was a rumor,” whispered Jecka, scowling. “That was a rumor some bitch was trying to spread about Rachel. That she fucked a teacher to bump up her grade or something. I have no idea how you even heard about that, since you apparently didn’t know she existed until today.” She scoffed. “Who told you about that? Was it Kelly? It had to be Kelly. I’m gonna strangle that bitch with her own lanyard, I swear. Shove that membership club right up—”

“No, nobody said anything. I’m serious, Jecka. I was talking to Principal Lynn, and I asked her how many kids she had let that happen to. I asked her and she didn’t answer me, so I dropped it. But what else would everybody want to pretend isn’t real?”

“I dunno, a million other things?!

“I’m not just talking about sexual assault and rape and all of that. I’m talking about the stuff it leads to. Like suicide. Rachel killed herself and nobody says anything? Nobody wants to remember or think about her. Nobody lets you talk about her.” Nicole didn’t even get pissed at herself when she realized she was crying again. “What if nobody believed her? What if nobody wanted to?”

“We didn’t believe anything, because that was a fucking rumor, Nicole!” snapped Jecka. “She’d never do that! She’d never let that happen! She’d never—” Her entire face splintered and she slowly cradled it with her hands, breathing getting shorter and shorter. “Oh my God.”

“What? Am I right? What’d you just realize?” asked Nicole, a little too frantic than she’d like. “Hey, what is it?” She panicked and grabbed Jecka’s hands, really awkwardly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Oh God.” Jecka started to hyperventilate, her breath not even catching as she started to cry, too. “Oh my God. I—I heard the rumor, someone brought it up at lunch in—in April, and that’s what I said, and—she was sitting right next to me.” She whimpered. “She was right there. She never had a fucking chance to try to tell me! I already didn’t believe her!”

“Oh, shit.” Nicole’s eyes bugged out. Maybe she should have just kept her stupid mouth shut. Even though the idea of doing that felt wrong, and she just could not understand why that was. “That’s not your fault? I mean—It’s not. It’s not your fault. I know people say that, but—”

“Yes! It is! I’m the reason nobody believed her! I just assumed it was some fucked up rumor some bitch was spreading and it literally never occurred to me that it was real!” Jecka bit her lip, pushed Nicole away, and scrambled to the head of her bed, smacking her face into a pillow to muffle a scream. “She’s dead because of me. I have spent so long trying to figure out how I could save her and the answer was to fucking kill myself! She’d be alive if I wasn’t—”

“Jecka!” Nicole pulled her off of the pillow. “That isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it is! Maybe that’s—oh God, that’s why she didn’t mention me in the note. I killed her.” Jecka sobbed into her pillow again. “She blamed me. I killed her. Jesus fucking Christ, I acutally killed her!”

“No, you didn’t! You didn’t kill her!”

“Yeah?!” Jecka snapped her head up and snarled at her. “How the fuck would you know?! Shouldn’t you understand this better than literally anybody else?! Your dad killed himself and blamed you!”

“Just because that fucked me up doesn’t mean it was true!” boomed Nicole, her jaw tightening, struggling to stop herself from recalling, in excruciating detail, every single thing about that fraction of a second she was never supposed to see. “I’ve chosen to not kill myself nineteen times, Jecka. Not just once or twice. Nineteen. It’s always my decision. Mine and nobody else’s.” She shivered. “You stopped me today because I let you.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?! She’s still dead, Nicole. She didn’t let me stop her! She didn’t let anyone!” Jecka threw her pillow at Nicole’s face and bawled, almost collapsing on herself. “Nobody knew anything because I shut her up before she could ask for help!”

“You’re not her parents, Jecka. You’re not her sister.” Nicole actually swallowed her anxiety, because this was more important. She could fuck anybody. Jecka was the only person she could help. “They didn’t notice anything, and they lived with her.” She hugged her again, a lot more awkwardly, since Jecka was sobbing and shaking and kicking her legs into the nightstand. “There’s no such thing as no warning signs! They’re fucking lying because they weren’t paying attention to her, or listening to her, ever, and she’s dead. You didn’t kill Rachel.”

“I didn’t pay attention to her, either! I didn’t listen!”

“She was your best friend, not your sister! That’s not on you. That’s on them. I didn’t live with my dad enough to notice anything, okay?” Nicole struggled to keep hugging Jecka, since she kept wriggling and her entire body was still incredibly sore and strained. “I literally wasn’t there. If mom had split custody, then maybe I’d have seen something, but that’s not on me, either.” She almost bit through her lip trying to stop herself from saying more. “My dad didn’t blame me at random, Jecka. I still didn’t kill him. It’s still not my fault he made his choice. Same with you and Rachel.”

Jecka cried, full body sobbing, into Nicole and after a couple minutes of that Nicole started to kind of resent Jecka’s mom for not even checking to see if everything was okay. Or, maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe that would’ve been worse. Giving Jecka space was what she wanted, and she listened, but shouldn’t she see if anything was actually wrong? Could be that she just knew she wasn’t in danger.

Nicole’s mom had once talked about how she could intuitively tell what Nicole’s infant cries meant even though it was all just crying. That could’ve carried over as she grew up, and while Nicole’s mom stopped listening, maybe Jecka’s mom didn’t. That, or maybe she was just super high and drooling on the couch. Nicole decided to imagine it was the other thing. It’d be nice.

Probably the worst time ever to point out or make a joke about how, despite Jecka’s reassurance that they wouldn’t be all touchy-feely and cutting their hearts open to each other, they almost instantly did that. She really shouldn’t do that. There was just no reason to. It’d only—and she was already doing it.

“Guess we’re both dumb whiny bitches after all,” forced Nicole, with a terrible chuckle and fake smile. “Pouring our hearts out after promising we wouldn’t. Maybe it’s a good thing, though? Because, uhm, you didn’t kill her? You didn’t. At all.”

“How—” Jecka whimpered into a frown, drying her eyes after a few seconds. “How can you go from super confident in being actually supportive and awesome to whatever the fuck this is in two seconds?”

“Apparently I’m an olympic marathoner for lying about feelings I don’t have, and a boring ass sprinter for feelings I do have.” Nicole shrugged. “You really didn’t kill her, Jecka.”

“I’m a little responsible even if I didn’t literally murder her.”

“Did you tell her to kill herself?”

“No! Why would you even ask me that?! What kind of sick—” Jecka’s eyes dried and she slowly sat up, unblinking, as she stared at Nicole. “Did you tell your dad to kill himself? And then he did it? Because you told me what happened last year, and I’d absolutely remember that.”

Nicole kept her mouth shut.

“Okay, if you were trying to distract me to help, uh, you did.” Jecka sniffled and blew her nose with the tissues on the nightstand. “Nicole, you only needed to tell me that story once. It’s kind of impossible to forget. You were at the same school for two years for the first time ever, and then your brother got busted pirating breakbeat mixtapes…”

“Absolutely terrible music,” snarled Nicole, crossing her arms and staring down at the sheets. “Stupid and boring. There’s just nothing to it.”

“Right, yeah, the quality of the music was important.” Jecka frowned at her. “Anyway, stop me if I’m wrong at any point. You all got evicted, and your mom tells you that after you get home from school or something. You head to your dad’s place, since, it’s like, really close, I guess, and you knock on the door, hear a gunshot and—”

“Yeah, so…” Nicole sighed. “That’s not exactly how it happened.”

“I don’t even know what part you’d be lying about. Or—is your dad actually alive?”

“No, he’s dead.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Nicole’s eyes sunk into her head. “My mom doesn’t—I think I lied to her about how this went down. I don’t remember what I told her. Not like Emily, where I was just too fucked up and it’s a blur, but I’m just—it’s blank. One second I was standing in the doorway, right on the porch of my dad’s house, and the next I was in my mom’s bathroom, she’s screaming at my brother downstairs and…” She rubbed her overly scarred wrists. “I don’t even know why I stopped.”

“You were standing in the doorway?” repeated Jecka, her face twisting. “When you found him, you mean?”

“When I saw it.” Nicole rested her head on Jecka’s shoulder. “I saw him shoot himself. I watched it happen because I was already there.”

“That is so much worse,” whispered Jecka, shaking and taking Nicole’s hand just as clumsily. “It gets worse than that, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. I can stop if you don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t want to hear this. Nobody would ever want to hear this. But I think you need to tell me.”

“This is supposed to be about helping you, Jecka.”

“You are so bad at helping me that you’re telling me a secret that your mom really should probably know.” Jecka squeezed her hand. “If you’re trying to make Rachel seem small in comparison, well, fuck you. Are you trying to do that?”

Nicole didn’t answer because she might’ve sorta been trying to do that.

“I didn’t ask her to kill herself. That doesn’t mean I’m totally not to blame at all or that I didn’t make it all worse, Nicole. It’s all a bunch of shitty pieces to the same puzzle.”

“They’re not. That’s not how this works.” Nicole shook her head. “Have you ever tried to kill yourself, Jecka?”

“Uhm.” Jecka swallowed. “Does thinking about it really hard count?”

“Did you make a plan?”

“Kind of.”

“Did you start the plan?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t count—which is a good thing, Jecka.”

“I know that!”

“Good.” Nicole sighed. “What’s super likely is that Rachel probably tried a few times. Or she got halfway into it and stopped, and then tried again. Every step is another choice you make; it’s like a few hundred different chances to walk away.” She slouched. “You ask yourself ‘do you still want to die’, and if you answer ‘yes’, you keep going. Even when you slit your wrists…” She bit her lip. “Even if you’re not afraid to die, even if you want to die, how you make that final cut either gives a couple hours or so to change your mind, or maybe ten minutes.”

Jecka rubbed her thumb against Nicole’s wrist. First horizontally, then vertically. Then, horizontally again.

“That’s how she did it?”

Jecka nodded and bit back a whimper.

“Two or three hours. Sometimes longer. Sometimes it doesn’t work. You have time to think as you go. Time to reflect and realize there’s something to live for. Some reason to stop. Literally anything. Anything at all that works for the moment.” Nicole was crying again and she didn’t bother to stop herself. “Rachel had a lot of time to stop, Jecka. A lot of time for her family to find her. She chose to die, every single second she sat there, she kept choosing that.”

“That almost makes it feel like it had nothing to do with me at all,” whispered Jecka. “Even if she did think of me as she died, I wasn’t enough to keep her here. Her family wasn’t. Nobody was. Nothing was.” She choked back a sob. “You did that nineteen times?”

“I only got that far eight times.” Nicole snorted. “After the third time I bailed, I started prepping stuff to clean up if I stopped.”

“Did that help?”

“With cleaning up.” Nicole shrugged. “You can’t blame yourself for somebody making thousands of decisions to die, Jecka. You wanna blame anybody? Blame her family.”

“It’s not that easy.” Jecka shook her head and leaned more against her. “You make it sound so simple and convincing.”

“Yeah, if only I could be as persuasive with myself. You didn’t kill Rachel, Jecka.”

“So you keep telling me.” Jecka shifted on the bed. “Is it really like that? Choosing to die a million times in a row?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“And I’m enough to say ‘no’ for you? At least one time in that million?”

“Yeah.” Nicole blushed and didn’t bother fighting it. “You are.”

“How many times?”

“Does that really—”

“It matters, Nicole. I wanna know.”

“Fucking all of them, basically. I don’t really know when that happened. It just did one day. I think about dying so often that it’s hard not to notice when the way you think about it changes.” Nicole swallowed as she felt Jecka getting tenser next to her. “It’s actually been a while since I got that far.”

“Mhmm, cool, doesn’t matter, because you’re not gonna do it again.” Jecka squeezed her hand and practically melted into Nicole. “Oh my God, I can’t cry anymore. My eyes are on fire. I’m so tired.”

“I’ve been all cried out since I woke up. I have no idea how I’m still producing tears.”

“A hundred years of emotional constipation, probably.”

“No, I think that’s just a side effect of Lexapro.” Nicole raised a brow. “Oh. Emotional. Nevermind.”

“Shut up.” Jecka snorted into a laugh. “You’re not done.”

“With what?”

“What happened to your dad?” asked Jecka. “What actually happened?”

“Why do you want to know that when you don’t have to?”

“I still don’t want to know. I’m never going to want to know. But you keep saying that talking about stuff isn’t bullshit, and honestly I feel a whole lot better just from talking about Rachel, even if I kinda killed her.” Jecka nudged her away and slid off the bed, fully opening the window beside her desk. “Guess I’m cool with murder if there’s enough degrees of separation that the only person who’d ever know I actually did it is me. Like, not even the victim.”

“You didn’t—”

“Nicole, I don’t want to talk about her anymore. I’m burnt the fuck out.” Jecka reached down below her keyboard tray and grabbed a soft pack of cigarettes, shaking them as she leaned further on the window frame. “Besides, she’s gone, and you’re not.”

“Alright. I’ll drop it.” Nicole joined her at the window and took the cigarette she slid into her fingers. “I probably should have asked this any of the other times I’ve been in here, but now seems way more relevant.”

“That is a distressing preamble to a question, but okay.”

“Why don’t you have a poster of Ryan Sheckler?”

“Ew, what if he sees it, Nicole?” Jecka gagged. “I’m not some gross stalker. I’m his future wife.”

“Okay, like, let’s say that’s true and real.”

“Easily. It is.”

“Yeah, I’m just asking—how would he be here to see it? In your room inside your parent’s house?”

“He’d obviously do that thing from Say Anything with the boombox and then I have a ladder and he climbs up through my window, just super in love with me…” Jecka idly glanced at her unlit cigarette. “And then, what if he turns around, and there’s a poster of him on the wall. Total turn off. Dumps me and blocks my number.”

“Do you actually believe that would happen?”

“We all have our dreams and fantasies, Nicole.”

“Fair.” Nicole briefly looked over her shoulder at Jecka’s still very much closed bedroom door. “Should I be worried your mom hasn’t come to check on you?”

“She literally never does anymore. I thought she might now that we have like zero sound dampening from all the asbestos being gone, but no. I cry too much watching dramas so now she just assumes that’s what’s always going on.” Jecka lit her own cigarette and took a very long drag, exhaling smoke out of the window, poking her head out as much as possible. “Bitch, what else am I supposed to do at the end of Tuck Everlasting? Or Big Fish? Laugh so hard I vomit?”

“Never seen those.” Nicole motioned with her own cigarette. “Are they that good?”

“I wouldn’t cry so hard that it hurts to breathe for shitty movies, Nicole.” Jecka lit Nicole’s cigarette with her own and really drew it all out. Twisted her own into the end of Nicole’s, so much more than she needed to, ash and flickering embers digging into one another in a calm, satisfying silence. Not that NIcole minded. It was nice. It was cool. “I think you’d like Big Fish.”

“Is it about a big fish?” Nicole took a drag, and the more she did, the more crippling guilt crept out of her heart and spread through her limbs and throat. “A fishing competition or something?”

“There is a big fish in it. It’s about a kid finding out their dad’s crazy stories from when they were young were all real.” Jecka smiled at her, eyes still kinda red. “Because all the people from the stories show up at the funeral.”

“That sounds like a weird movie.”

“It’s weird. It’s good weird.

“Do you want to watch it?”

“I already said I was so cried out, Nicole. I think Big Fish might actually kill me from dehydration.”

“Wait, it’s that good?” Nicole raised a brow and took another drag. “You’ll still cry from it even though you already watched it?”

“And now you see why my mom never checks in while I’m screaming and crying.” Jecka shrugged and slouched out the window, exhaling smoke from her nose. “I’m a big bitchy baby.”

“Yeah, I could murder you in the most violent way possible and she wouldn’t find out until the truancy officer knocked on the door.” Nicole shrugged and didn’t really know how she felt about that. “I’m not going to. I’m just saying I could.”

“I could’ve fucked with your head to the point that you attempted suicide at the perfect time for me to swoop in and save you for like, at least the past six months,” grumbled Jecka. “I’m not going to, and I didn’t, but I could.” She glared at her. “See? Do you hear how that sounds? Was that fun for you?”

“I dunno, but that sounded fun for you.”

“It’s so fucked up that it is.” Jecka leaned her arm against the side of the window, looking out into the meticulously maintained backyard. “All of this is way too much fun.”

“It’s fun?” Nicole blinked and struggled to find a way to respond to that. “It’s fun?”

“Yeah.” Jecka took another drag. “This was the scariest, happiest, and most fun day of my life. So, yeah, kinda sorta lying earlier. Running around with your life on the line, watching you fall apart like some ratty old band shirt while I try to sew you back up faster than you can turn to dust, and, like, having you here, alive…” She smiled, a little. “Because of me.”

Nicole shrugged and focused on smoking so that she didn’t stink up Jecka’s room. Because of her. Because of her. There was something about that level of dependence, that Jecka wanted that, wanted it so desperately that she’d clearly thought out exactly how to make it happen, to keep Nicole around.

To date her? No, that wasn’t it. She didn’t want to risk that until it became an unavoidable topic. So, to keep Nicole alive in general. To make sure she’d always be there. Always had a reason to be there, even if it was gratitude or guilt. So that she’d never be able to leave without a few thousand strings attached.

It was pretty fucked up. Kind of insane. And it was extremely familiar to something Nicole actually had done to Jecka.

“I get it. I really do get it. You must’ve been crazy tempted to pull that shit each and every day. I’d never know that you did. I’d never think you would,” whispered Nicole, taking another drag and forcing herself to look directly at Jecka. “Because I’d never think you’d pull something like what I’d already done to you.”

“Ooooh, scary and foreboding.” Jecka snickered and wiggled her hands, her cigarette held firmly in her fingers. “You got me addicted to cigarettes! Oh no!” She rolled her eyes while Nicole paled somehow more. “I’m so shocked and scandalized. Better get some smelling salts, since my feminine constitution just can’t handle this unexpected and horrible revelation!”

“You knew?” Nicole almost choked on her cigarette. “You seriously knew?”

“Knew the whole time, bitch.” Jecka took a very exaggerated drag, like it was the single best smoke in the world. “You kept pushing cigarettes, so often, and, like, you never really asked me to go smoke with you for the first couple weeks of school last year, so I had no idea you even did smoke.” She scoffed. “I wanted to hang out with you, too, you know.”

“You could have just stood with me and not gotten addicted to cigarettes.”

“I’ve been smoking off and on since, like, sixth grade.” Jecka shrugged. “What the fuck’s the difference? You just sped up what was already going to happen because you thought I was cool. I thought you were cool, so when the cool, crazy, super pretty, super badass new-bitch-in-town asks you to smoke with her, I’m going to say yes. We both got what we wanted.”

“Yeah, I guess we kinda did.” Nicole blushed and scooched closer to Jecka, a weird kind of tension and pain loosening from her shoulders. “Why did you want to hang out with me? You have a ton of other friends.”

“That you rarely meet. Almost all of them are actually preppy, Nicole, not to mention stupid. The hair, the make-up, the clothes—that’s their actual dumb bitch personality. I don’t hate them, but they don’t really give a fuck about who I actually am and what I actually like. Just that I look the part to fill out the seats.” Jecka took another drag. “I’ve always been pretty, but if my mom let me dye my hair I’d make it jet black. Or hot neon pink. I dunno. Something cool.”

“You’d pull it off.” Nicole didn’t have any trouble imagining Jecka with hot neon pink hair, a leather jacket, and for some reason on a motorcycle with Nicole riding on the back, wind whipping through everything. “You’d really pull it off.”

“I know, I totally would! I look in the mirror sometimes and I just—” Jecka sighed and leaned into Nicole, tapping ash into the tray on her desk. “I don’t hate who I see. I’m exhausted of who’s always staring back at me. This prissy, proper, ‘dumb’ blonde, well-to-do, rich bitch. Like, I’m not even trying to put up some act or anything, because it doesn’t fucking matter what I do. Everyone is only ever going to see what my mom wants them to see.”

“Not everybody.” Nicole took another drag. “I can smell bullshit from anywhere in the DMV, Jecka. I’ve never smelled it on you.”

“Never?” Jecka chuckled and gave her an odd look. “You saw me and you didn’t instantly think I was exactly what I’m unwillingly advertising?”

“Didn’t have a reason to.” Nicole shrugged. “Anyone who’s actually like that isn’t going to have more than half a conversation with me, Jecka. If I’m not bowing down or kissing ass because I’m new, then I’m worthless to them.”

“I never thought about it like that.” Jecka smiled. “I guess I’m more myself than I thought I was.”

Nicole kissed her, the moment Jecka tapped ash again, and she didn’t really know why she did it. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to, or if her gut just knew that was the ‘right moment’, or some shit like that, but she did it. It was nicer than the first time. Slow, calm, and quiet. Warmer, too.

No tears. No whimpering. Nothing to prove.

Jecka kissed her back, killing both cigarettes in the tray, as she slowly shifted Nicole against the window, giggling into a tiny little smile. If there was any hesitation or restraint going on, it wasn’t obvious. Her hands didn’t wander and then pull away; just settled around her waist and held her close.

“Why’d, uh…” Jecka beamed as she pulled back. “What was that for?”

“I dunno. Maybe I wanted to tell you that I like you and tripped?” Nicole shrugged, smirking a bit. “I really have no idea. I just—it was a thing. It made sense to do that, I think.” She shrugged, again. “You’re—you’re you, Jecka.”

“Yeah. And you’re you.” Jecka furrowed her brow and bit her lip. “I was always so worried I’d regret not trying anything with you; even when I thought you’d just basically torture me for fun, I had that nagging feeling that I needed to try.” She snorted. “I’m actually really glad that it took this long. That I made myself wait. So fucking weird.”

“You’re glad I was a dense, stupid, horrible bitch who terrified you into thinking I’d treat you like a literal punching bag if you asked me out?”

“No, I’m glad I waited. That other shit was your problem. We wouldn’t be the same kind of friends we are. You weren’t really wrong about what dating feels like, okay? All of those things you’re supposed to do, and say, and the way you act, even when you don’t want to.” Jecka idly closed her window. “Aside from being horny, I mean. But that’s different. I don’t feel any of the other pressure with you. I’m just here. So are you. Like, we’re not acting like we’re dating, and I don’t want to act like that, but what does that make us, right?”

“You already figured that out in the car, Jecka.” Nicole forced a smile. “Best friends who also have sex.” She stiffened as Jecka eyed her. “Eventually. Best friends who have sex eventually. When you say it’s okay.”

“That’s not a thing.” Jecka crossed her arms. “Right? It’s not? I’ve never heard of it.”

“You made it a thing! You made it up!”

“I was just saying stuff to calm you down! I didn’t think it’d actually be real.” Jecka pinched her brow. “Maybe I just really wanted it to be? I could be overthinking this.”

“What do you want to call this? If it doesn’t sound stupid, it doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“Can we just say we’re together or something and promise not to fuck other people?”

“Why would—” Nicole sputtered. “Were you concerned I’d cheat on you?”

“Bitch, you have people throwing themselves off of buildings, letting you beat them to a pulp, donating literal gallons of their own blood to you, skeet on every square inch of their parent’s house, forming suicide pacts, committing different felonies than the ones I did for you, and guys fucking other guys—literally all of that was because they wanted to be with you! Why wouldn’t I be worried you’d just walk into a room on Tuesday and fuck half the people in the room and leave the room with a jar of pennies to prove a point that nobody even remembers but you?!”

“Uhm, well, that’s not…” Nicole averted her eyes and cleared her throat, deciding to look out the window and take in the really shitty March evening. There was just no way to spin any of that into something else. Made too much sense. “I’d give you half.”

“No, if you’re going to do that, you’re going to talk it over with me, because I’m your pimp, Nicole,” snapped back Jecka. “You wanna fuck other people? You’re my ho now, bitch, and I get ninety-percent.”

“I don’t actually want to fuck anyone. I want to fuck people over. I think.” Nicole turned back to Jecka, her eyes widening. “Woah, wait, are you saying I can’t lead people on? That’s, like, all of my leverage! I can’t get guys to blow themselves up or whatever if they don’t think I’m single, Jecka!”

“Okay, wait, so if you’d make half-a-million dollars—”

“Yes, I’d obviously still ask you if that was cool.”

“And give me half.”

“Ninety-percent. You’re my pimp.”

“Oh, right.” Jecka tilted her head in thought. “Yeah, this could be a huge problem. If people knew we were dating I’d lose my leverage, too.”

“I’m not saying I want to be loud about it but hiding after dating Ari seems like the dumbest fucking thing ever.”

“There’s got to be a way we can keep all the power, be the baddest bitch couple—” Jecka grimaced. “Pair? Duo. Baddest bitch duo ever, and not have to hide a thing…” Her eyes slowly widened, her mouth parting with glee. “Ohhhhh, I know exactly what to do.’

“Yeah? Drop the genius and knowledge, bitch.”

“Okay, okay.” Jecka giggled and held up her palms. “We tell everyone we’re bi and totally down for a threesome. But, in reality…”

“There’s never going to be a threesome.” Nicole chuckled. “That’s actually perfect.”

“I know! It’s like, more powerful, because what guy wouldn’t want two hot girls fawning all over them?”

“I could get two gallons of blood.” Nicole waited four full seconds before rolling her eyes. “I’m kidding.”

“Are you? Are you actually kidding?”

“Yeah, Jecka, why would I want two gallons of blood? I only need one. The other goes to you.”

“God, that’s like, the devil’s half-and-half, or something.”

“No, that’d be blood and skeez.”

“Ew, why did you make me think of a gallon of that? That’s so gross.” Jecka gagged. “You’d actually ask for a gallon of skeez?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t even hesitate. Any guy dumb enough to try and deliver that would probably literally jack themselves off to death.”

“While thinking of you, Nicole. They’ll die and masturbate while thinking of you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, and what do I care? Can’t touch me if they’re dead.”

“Oh my God, you are so fucking evil.” Jecka snickered into a laugh. “Okay. I think this’ll work. There’s no way this idea is actually just stupid without us realizing it.”

“What do we do if it is stupid?”

“We just hide, I guess.” Jecka shrugged. “It’ll suck, but, I mean, were you going to hold my hand in public or whatever?”

“Gross, no. Do I look like some skip-through-the-flowers kinda bitch?”

”No, and neither am I, but…” grumbled Jecka. “It’d be nice to hold your hand in public. To have that option. Just, ‘cause, you know, it’d be cool to be, like, ‘walk away, dude, she’s mine’ or whatever.”

“You want to show me off? Can’t say I don’t love what that’d do to my self-esteem.” Nicole paused. “Only real problem is that it doesn’t really work with the ‘fake threesome’ idea.”

“It totally can! We’re just, like, uhm, selective with who we ‘invite’ to the table.”

“We can’t say we’re selective if we ever want to pull shit with Jeffery again.”

“I’m not a criminal mastermind like you, Nicole!” groaned Jecka, throwing up her hands. “How about you come up with a plan? Why’s this all on me?”

“I dunno, you just seemed smarter about this kind of thing.” Nicole shrugged. “We could just feel it out and see what happens?”

“Yeah, we could do that. Or we could sleep on it. Wait until your meds are fully back in your system.” Jecka turned away and scowled at the floor. “Shit, we shouldn’t even be talking about this stuff when you’re so out of it.”

“I dunno, I think I’m doing a pretty good job of holding on by a couple threads. It’s just us, Jecka. You really do make it that much easier to keep my shit together.”

“What, am I your security blanket now? Your favorite stuffie?”

“Kinda.”

“I fucking hate how much that’s working for me.” Jecka buried her face in her hands. “That’s so disgusting! I’m disgusting. Like, I should be telling you, sitting you down, explaining how that’s not okay, how that’s not healthy, how that’s super abusive of me, but I really don’t want to.” She flopped back down onto the bed, face first. “What is wrong with me?”

“It’s not that bad, Jecka.” Nicole settled onto the bed next to her. “Is it really toxic or abusive or bad if we both want it?”

“Uh, yeah, it still is!” Jecka sat back up and frowned at her. “I don’t just want to help you, Nicole. I want to be the reason you’re okay. Me and nobody else. I’m the one who saved you, I’m the one who was there when nobody else was, I’m the one who nursed you back to health or whatever, and I never want you to forget that.”

“Yeah, I remember. I, like, basically can’t live without you. Told you that this morning.”

“You can! You absolutely can!”

“I doubt it, but even if I can, it’d be an even shittier life.” Nicole chewed on her lip. “Look, all of the stuff you want, the stuff you said, it’s true, Jecka. You’re not really making any of that up, and I will never forget what happened today. Even if all of this goes to shit tomorrow, I don’t care. Everything you did still counts.” She rubbed her arms and took a breath, shivering a little. “I want you to be the one to help me, Jecka. Nobody else.”

“This is really fucked up,” whispered Jecka, slowly sitting up. “Like, no, this is extremely fucked up.”

“Oh, yeah, super fucked up.” Nicole shrugged. “What’re we supposed to do to change that? Go to couple’s therapy?”

“Oh my God, don’t even joke about that!” Jecka snickered into a laugh, her face brightening up completely. “They’d, like, make us talk to each other like we’re robots tripping on ecstasy. ‘Nicole, I feel like you take advantage of me, and that makes me feel sad. I cry into your shampoo bottle at night because I think your hair holds your dirty evil’.”

“Yeah, or like ‘you don’t do the dishes so that makes me feel like you’re forcing me to be the butch one and even if I am don’t make me do the dishes, bitch, do your own’.”

“Ohhhh, no, ‘maybe I would do all of our dishes if you told me how you feel instead of fucking me senseless so you don’t have to have a real conversation’.”

“Yo, that’s good. ‘I only do that because it makes you happier than talking shit through ever will’.”

“Yeah, yeah, and, like, every session would end with, like—” Jecka sputtered and held her gut, laughing harder. “With, hm, ‘ahhhh, I apologize, I am so sorry. Please don’t leave me! I love you, Nicole!’.”

“Oh, you—” Nicole’s eyes widened. “Wait, do you actually love me or were you just playing that up?”

“What are you talking about?” Jecka chuckled, seemingly unaware of what she’d said. “Why would you think that?”

“You just said you loved me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes. You did.”

“Oh, yeah. I did. Totally, yeah.” Jecka’s entire body seemed to basically melt into the comforter as she seemed to realize what she’d just said. “Yeah.” She, very slowly, crawled under the covers and slapped her pillow over her head. “Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”

“You got this far and you’re chickening out?” Nicole sighed. “It’s not like that’s the first time anyone’s said that to me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t want you to have heard it!” Jecka bounced up from under her pillow, frowning and getting up in her face. “Basically every guy and a bunch of girls have confessed their undying love for you, so what the fuck is the point?” She slouched and clutched the sides of her head. “It doesn’t mean anything to you anymore.”

“Does it have to?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because, Nicole, it obviously does!”

“Not to sound like a seven year old, but…” Nicole raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because—” Jecka looked as if she was about to launch into an entire month long explanation as to the origins of not only the word love, but also how it is the cause of and solution to all of life’s problems. And then, she just took a breath instead. “Yeah, wow, it really doesn’t.”

“It’s just a thing people say. If it means anything, it lost whatever that was a long time ago.”

“Maybe, but it means something to me,” stressed Jecka. “Don’t ever tell me you love me unless you do. Okay?”

“Okay.” Nicole felt her chest tighten. “What’s that feel like? So, uh, when I know when to tell you and don’t miss it.”

“Not if? When?” Jecka raised a brow. “Careful.”

“All of this shit is kind of new all over again for me, Jecka!”

“I know that.” Jecka crossed her arms. “I could describe it, but I don’t think I want to.”

“What? That’s not fair.”

“What sounds better to you, Nicole?” Jecka smirked. “I tell you how it feels, or you feel it yourself and tell me?”

“I might not feel it at all,” whispered Nicole. “Even if the meds actually work like they’re supposed to, what if—”

“What if you don’t love me?”

“No.” Nicole swallowed and shuddered. “Okay, yeah.”

“Then you’ll break my heart, and yours.” Jecka pointed to Nicole’s heart. “And then you’ll know how that feels.”

“I don’t want to know what that feels like.” Nicole shook her head a little frantically. “That sounds fucking horrible.”

“If you don’t want that…” Jecka flashed her a wink and a smile. “Then you better do your best to love me as hard as you can.”

“I don’t know how to do that!” snapped Nicole. “You can’t just expect me to figure that shit out because of drugs, Jecka!”

“Oh, shit, that’s true.” Jecka scratched the side of her head and hummed. “I guess I should probably tell you, then, right?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Yeah. So.” Jecka chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” grumbled Nicole. “You don’t have the words all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know what it feels like, either! I was just trying to look cool!”

“I think I’m getting emotional whiplash for feelings I don’t even know if I have. You don’t love me?”

“Nicole, I have absolutely no fucking idea. I like you. A lot. So much.” Jecka sighed. “I want to…do a lot with you. Really badly. If half of all lyrics are about wanting to fuck somebody, the other half are about love, and none of them have really been super informative.”

“Then we’re both equally stupid and fumbling around about this?”

“Uh, yeah? Obviously.”

“I can live with that.” Nicole snorted. “But can you?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I?”

“What about Ryan Sheckler? What if he shows up and you’ve already fallen in love with me?”

“Oh, I’ll be a dust cloud if I ever get a chance with him.” Jecka beamed. “You’re neat and all, Nicole, but you’re not the love of my life.”

“I have absolutely no idea if you’re kidding or not.”

“I don’t know if I’m kidding, either.” Jecka giggled. “It’d be pretty crazy if we found out though, right?”

“I’m not going with you to the X-Games, Jecka.”

“Yes, you are. That’s your job.” Jecka stuck out her tongue. “You’re my date to everything now, remember?”

“Okay, fine, but…” Nicole crossed her arms. “Three-grand in the hole or not, I’m not paying.”

“You think I’m going to pay for the right to meet my future husband?” Jecka grabbed her arms and smiled even wider. “We’ll sneak in, Nicole. You are going to introduce us and walk me down that aisle.”

“Did you just ask me to sub in for your dad and be your Maid of Honor?”

“Who else would I want doing both jobs, bitch?”

“Cool, yeah, totally on board.” Nicole smiled. Really, actually, smiled. A tiny bit. It didn’t hurt. “I would love to be a part of your reverse shotgun wedding to a professional skateboarder slash MTV reality show star that you’ve never met.”

“We’ll have met by then, Nicole! That’s the whole point!”

“Yeah, but if you follow that plan, you’d never know if it was love at first sight.”

“Yes, I will. Because it will be.”

“Okay, okay.”

“You should start planning my bachelorette party now.”

“Did you like forget we’re kinda dating now or is this just part of the package?”

“Package.” Jecka kissed her again. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Nope. Not even a little.”

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

It wasn’t quite her normal eternally hostile background noise, but it was getting closer to that old reliable state of being. There’d been so many distractions in such a congested chunk of time and space that it was starting to get difficult to remember that she wanted to die. Okay, well, not really, it was super easy, but it was easier to lie to herself that it was harder.

All things considered, that wasn’t that bad an alternative.

Nicole was able to stomach the kinda bland chicken-whatever that Jecka’s mom had made for dinner, and whatever conversation that had been shared between Jecka, her mom, and her dad, was one she was able to tune out of and just focus on not having another meltdown. Which is to say that she and Jecka scarfed it down and ran out the door to go to the pharmacy.

It wasn’t going to close soon, but the xanax was probably going to wear off sooner than that, and that last pill needed to hopefully last Nicole most of the night so she wouldn’t wake up in a pool of her own sweat and possibly piss.

So, yeah, she was walking around in a CVS with a coat over Jecka’s designer pajamas. She’d met people from Philly’s Main Line in some of her other schools, and apparently wearing stuff like that in public, really just sweatpants or whatever, was a status symbol in that area. Like, they were so rich they just didn’t give a shit about looking like slobs.

Jecka said she believed her, but she looked like she kinda didn’t. That was fine, though. Didn’t matter. They just needed to pick up some drugs and leave. But before that, while proper revenge on her mom wasn’t really possible for a while, Nicole decided that small dribs and drabs would be okay to tide her over.

“Where are you going?” Jecka stopped in the middle of the intersection of the aisles near the back of the CVS, since Nicole had a much better idea and took a hard left towards the freezers. “Nicole, I don’t actually believe that you forgot where the counter is!”

“Dude, relax.” Nicole opened the freezer door and started skimming through the somewhat decent selection of ice cream. Single sizes, pints, quarts, novelties, stuff you got from the ice cream trucks, and all of those Ben & Jerry’s ‘cleverly named’ flavors. “What do you want? My mom’s treating.”

“Are you seriously going to use the credit card they have on file to also buy ice cream?” Jecka sighed and looked over Nicole’s shoulder at the ice cream before crouching down instead. “It’s March.”

“Just say you don’t want ice cream.”

“I didn’t say that. Don’t put heinous words in my mouth.” Jecka stood back up and snorted. “I don’t even know how many calories we burned today, but it sure feels like I ran in circles for fourteen hours.”

“It’s free ice cream, Jecka. Pick a flavor.”

“Americone Dream.” Jecka pointed to the pint with Stephen Colbert’s face on it. “If your mom paid for Comedy Central, you’d understand.”

“I’ve seen The Colbert Report, Jecka.” Nicole rolled her eyes and grabbed the pint. “I’m not living under a rock.”

“You obviously haven’t.” Jecka smirked at her as smug as ever. “The ‘t’ is silent.”

“Bullshit, no it isn’t.”

“No, it actually is! It’s ‘coal bear rah-pour’, not ‘coal-bert report’!”

“Wait, both of them are silent?” Nicole took a closer look down at the pint of ice cream. “Are we high right now?”

“Oh my God, just buy the ice cream with your mom’s money, get your meds, and let’s go home. You can have an existential crisis about modern satire later, Nicole!”

“Okay, fine—” Nicole spun back towards Jecka, face twisting in confusion. “I’m sorry, satire? I thought it was, like, political commentary! Like The Daily Show?”

“How is it even possible that you’ve seen The Daily Show but not Colbert Report? One leads into the other! Whatever, yes, it is. They both are. Colbert is just also satire.”

“Satire of what?”

“Everything, I guess.”

“It's a satire of everything? What kinda delusional bullshit are you watching?”

“Okay, fine, I didn’t say I knew what it was satirizing, just that I know it is satire.”

“How do you know it's satire if you don’t even know what it's satire of?”

“I get the general idea, just not the specifics. It’s obviously making fun of, like, Fox News. And all of those assholes.”

“You watch Fox News?”

“Ew, gross, no. What, have you?”

“I didn’t need to be taught how to be xenophobic, Jecka.”

“What the fuck are—” Jecka blinked. “Oh, you just hate everyone that’s not you.”

“Or you, duh. They just hate everyone.”

“Except we’ve never actually watched Fox News. So, we have no idea if that’s actually true.”

“Huh.” Nicole more deeply considered their shared, collective choice in promotional late-night comedy ice cream flavors. “Do you wanna watch Fox News and eat Americone Dream?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“You’re still buying that, though, right?”

“No, shit, I’m buying this. It’s got fudge dipped waffle cone.”

Jecka had eaten most of the ice cream, which was fine. She’d earned it. They tried flipping through channels while waiting for Nicole’s sweat soaked clothes to come out of the wash and just ended up watching The Daily Show into The Colbert Report and, okay, Nicole was kinda missing out since both were actually really funny. Mom was never going to pay more for better TV, so she’d just have to pirate it a day late or something.

That’d be so lame and depressing to do, though. Show up at school and try to bring stuff up from Monday's episode on Wednesday when everyone’s talking about the one from Tuesday. What a loser she’d be. Maybe she could steal cable like people used to in the nineties? She probably could.

Nicole wasn’t really sure how sleeping together, literally, was going to feel with Jecka. It was always so awkward with Ari, like their bodies didn’t actually fit together and every angle was just annoying and they kept bumping into each other and getting smacked awake at three in the morning. She’d been completely convinced that two people sleeping in the same bed was entirely because beds were expensive as shit.

With Jecka, it was still awkward, but it wasn’t bad awkward. Even when she woke up in the middle of the night since the xanax had worn off. Wasn’t bad awkward. She was whimpering without even realizing it, Jecka’s eyes snapped open and she, before really even fully rousing, rolled over, grabbed the last pill of her emergency stash, and shoved it into Nicole's mouth. Yeah, that somehow wasn’t bad awkward, either.

Sweating through the designer pajamas, however, that was bad awkward. She changed, again, into just shorts and a shirt that kinda fit. But that was okay. It was all okay, since in twenty minutes, the panic and anxiety receded just enough all over again for Nicole to calm herself down to something vaguely manageable.

She was still cold, even bundled up under the covers, though. Because Jecka’s mom really did keep the thermostat that low. She was about to ask Jecka if she actually knew why, but then she heard something from down the hall. Moaning, and—oh.

“I forgot my parents were doing this tonight,” whispered Jecka, shuffling closer to Nicole under the comforters. “I forgot. I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Nicole shrugged. “You had other stuff to think about.”

“Nicole, they don’t really stop for like, three hours.”

“I take it back. This isn’t fine.” Nicole frowned. “I can’t sleep hearing your—”

“Please stop calling attention to the specifics so I can try to tune it out.” Jecka palmed around for her iPod on the nightstand and set it down between them, handing Nicole one of the earbuds. “Pick a band.”

“I thought you had a shuffle.”

“The shuffle’s for school or places I might break it or lose it or get it stolen, Nicole. Pick a band.”

“Dude, I don’t care. Put everything you have on shuffle.” Nicole popped it into her ear. “Oh, wow, these are like, actually good earbuds.”

“Yeah, I don’t bring these to school because I don’t want any weirdo’s earwax or spit on them.” Jecka spun through her playlists and seemed to pick one at random, putting the other bud in her ear. “People suck on them thinking it's, like, sexy.”

“Gross.” Nicole slowly grew a baffled smirk as Crank That started playing almost instantly in her ear. “Are you sure you shuffled this?”

“I totally did!” Jecka giggled and snorted, barely able to stop herself from laughing harder as she shook. “I’m not changing it.”

“Duh, it’s super romantic. It’s, like, already the song of our generation.”

“Oh my God, shut up.”

“Here’s your chance.” Nicole snickered. “You gonna make good on being my pimp? Make me your ho?”

“Nicole, stop it.”

“So, you’re not going to Superman me?”

“Neither of us want that.” Jecka smiled. “Have you looked up what that even looks like?”

“Yeah, obviously. I google every lyric I don’t understand from every song I listen to.”

“I don’t do that for everything.”

“Your search history’s probably more punk than mine if you do.”

“I don’t think I want to know what your search history is.” Jecka shuddered and skipped a few songs, continuing to search. “I’m not ready for that level of intimacy. That’s like, ‘married for thirty years’ stuff.”

“I guess—” Nicole’s face contorted because Jecka had apparently decided to play…wait, it was really familiar. “What is this? I’ve heard this before, and why does it sound like some dumbass making all of the noises for terrible techno on purpose?”

“Ignore that.” Jecka tried to spin to the next song but Nicole caught her hand before she could. “Nicole, I totally forgot this was even on here.”

“Oh, my God.” Nicole snorted into a tiny laugh once she saw the title and artist. “The System is Down? From Homestar Runner? I didn’t even know this was a song you could get!”

“The hard part was getting it on my iPod; my cousin jailbroke it. You can download basically every song from any of the cartoons in the ‘downloads’ section.” Jecka blushed, because she’d said ‘downloads’ in a really bad impression of Homestar. “Not—not, uh, not that I have anything else from—fuck, okay, fine…” She grumbled and spun to another song. “I still can’t pronounce this.”

“Only one thing you could be talking about. Fah-ho-gwo-gods.”

“You totally remember how to spell it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, obviously.” Nicole furrowed her brow and actually did remember. “F-h-q, uh. W-h-g-a-d-s. Fhqwhgads. Come on, Fhqwhgads. It’s a kickass song.”

“That’s not even the name of the song.”

“Bullshit, yes it is.”

“No, look.” Jecka showed her the screen, and it actually said Everybody to the Limit. “See?”

“Just play it.” Nicole snickered because she forgot it started with a really bad robot voice. “I used to watch this stuff all the time in middle school.”

“Everyone did, Nicole. Everyone sent Strong Bad an email, too.”

“How many of those do you think were real?”

“I dunno, like, all of them? I don’t know how you’d even fake the one that spawned Fah—fahoka—whatever the hell that word is.”

“Jesus, Jecka, do you have any idea how many times I’ve wanted to say ‘it’s corn and corn alone day’ when I walk into the cafeteria? It’s literally every day.”

“Why didn’t you?! That would’ve been awesome!”

“Because it’s a middle school thing and we’re way too old for this stuff.”

“Nicole, we’re laughing about it right now.”

“Yeah, but nobody else is around.” Nicole smirked. “You’re just mad because you’re So-and-So and not Cheerleader.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t be What’s Her Face?”

“I would, and I would be with pride.”

“Her name is about how she’s forgettable.”

“Yeah, because What’s Her Face is too cool to give a shit. She’s just doing her thing.”

“They leave her behind when they go on vacation, Nicole.”

“When was the last time you watched this stuff? Yesterday?”

“Not important.” Jecka grumbled and huffed and spun through several more songs. “Moving on.”

“Corn chips are no place for a mighty warrior!”

“Moving on, Nicole!”

“Okay, fine.” Nicole waited a few seconds and almost spat out a drink she wasn’t sipping when I’m On a Boat started. “Okay, this is even weirder than the other one. Why is this here? Why do you have this on your iPod?”

“Don’t judge me. It’s funny and a good song.”

“Half the lyrics are just ‘I’m on a boat’.”

“I can play some Breaking Benjamin if you’d rather that.”

“Why do you have—”

“Because I like variety in my playlists, Nicole. I don’t just grunge out all the time. You need a spread of emotions, like a slow and chill rollercoaster, or whatever, sometimes, okay?” Jecka scoffed and crossed her arms. “You don’t even care about music. Why do you care about this?”

“I dunno. It’s just surprising. I’m half expecting you to tell me you like mambo or Jimmy Buffett.”

Jecka blushed and glared at Nicole.

“I was kidding! That was a totally random guess.” Nicole rubbed her arms and flushed a little. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Like what you like. My taste’s basically just what I don’t hate, so, yours is better.”

“I am this close to blasting Margaritaville and Tito Fuente’s entire discography into your ears just for that, Nicole.”

“I mean…” Nicole shrugged. “You can. If you want. I’ll listen.”

“You’ll listen to Jimmy Buffet and Tito Fuente with zero resistance, but you won’t watch Smallville without bitching about it?”

“Music’s easier. We can change the song if I don’t like it.”

“We can change the channel if you don’t like the show!”

“Yeah, but that seems like more effort.” Nicole honestly felt herself relaxing a little more as Jecka furiously spun through her iPod and Johnny Cash’s cover of Rusty Cage, of all things, started booming in her ear. “This is the weirdest foreplay ever. I’m kinda into it.”

“I was kinda trying to irritate you, but that’s cool, too.” Jecka set her iPod back down between them. “It’s good, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard it before.” Nicole closed her eyes and sunk a little more into her pillow. “This was my dad’s favorite song.”

“Oh, shit, I—”

“Don’t change it.”

“Okay.”

Nicole exhaled and listened, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t will herself to flood a bunch of memories into her skull of, like, ‘good times’ with her dad. She had positive memories of him, but the song did nothing. Just reminded her of him in a vague, general way. It was a good song. She’d always liked it. Mostly because dad liked it, but that was enough.

Little on the nose for both her and dad, but sometimes that’s what you needed. She stopped herself from strumming along with the song on a guitar that wasn’t in her hands. Hopefully before Jecka noticed, but probably not.

“My dad used to get a lot of noise complaints,” whispered Nicole, the words just sort of falling out of her mouth before she could stop them. “He was one of those guys who actually had a crazy sound system and blasted music late into the night. Most of it was shitty old people music, but some of it was good.”

“What were some of the good ones?”

“Kanye. He was super into Kanye.”

“Everyone is super into Kanye.”

“Yeah, that’s what he’d tell my mom whenever she came to pick me up. On weekends. Christmas. Couple other times a year. He’d always put on music she hated.” Nicole snickered at that, recalling her mom’s scowl that always got bigger the closer she got to dad’s house. “It was always music I liked, too. He never made it a rule or anything, but it had to be both things or he wouldn’t use it to kinda literally raise his own roof.”

“That’s actually pretty cool.”

“It was. He had, uhm—so the house he lived in wasn’t super big, but it had three bedrooms, and one of them was mine. I always wanted to leave stuff there and make it more my room, you know, but I didn’t. Mom would pick me up and rant and yell about how he was poisoning me against her.”

“Yeah, because she totally wasn’t doing it herself.”

“I tried to tell her that once but she just told me to shut up and go to my room. But, yeah, basically none of my stuff was ever there since I was worried it’d, like, make things worse for him with my mom.”

“Why would that make it worse? He was your dad. Did he move around a lot, too, or something?”

“He never moved. He never moved,” defended Nicole, probably a little too harsh, but whatever. “He had a couple girlfriends, but he never moved out of that house.” She curled up a little. “Whenever my mom really lost her shit, with me or just in general, or thought there was a chance dad could, like, actually sue for split custody, she’d threaten to go to court and get his visitation rights revoked.”

“So, she basically held you hostage.” Jecka paled. “That’s so fucked up. I guess it worked, though.”

“Yeah. It worked. It always worked, and she knew it’d always work. I’d do whatever she said if she threatened to take dad away.” Nicole took a shuddering breath and buried her face deeper into the pillow. “Whenever custody was revisited, she forced me to write stuff talking about how much I loved her more than him, because if I didn’t, I’d never see him again. So, at least I’d see him sometimes, even if I had to lie to do it.”

Jecka reached out and hugged her, and Nicole didn’t even know what song was playing anymore.

“I didn’t even want to live with him until we had to move here. Mom would’ve found a way to make that horrible so I’d come running back to her,” continued Nicole. “And the one time I asked, he said no. He said he couldn’t do it.” She whimpered. “He freaked out. Told me he ‘couldn’t afford it’ or ‘emotionally handle’ the responsibility, and yeah, legally, I know, I knew he couldn’t, but I just wanted him to say yes even if he couldn’t do it. That he wanted to, but he couldn’t.”

Jecka hugged her more.

“I got so fucking mad,” growled Nicole, entirely unable to stop herself from remembering exactly how all of this played out, second-by-second. Screaming in the kitchen, dad trying to calm her down, but she just got louder and meaner and angrier and hurt. “I’d finally felt settled, like I could maybe be happy, like I could have some sort of life for the first time in forever, that not everything had to be shit, that everything before this was just really shitty luck, and then it just exploded.” Nicole sobbed into Jecka’s shoulder. “And the one person who could’ve maybe kept it together told me no. They can’t. They can’t help me. They can’t do it. They won’t do it.”

Jecka, somehow, hugged her even more.

“Shit, you didn’t want to hear this,” mumbled Nicole, failing to wriggle out of Jecka’s hug. “You can let go now.”

“You are still crying and you’re not done. Just fucking tell me, Nicole.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s horrible.”

“Everything about today has been horrible. You obviously want to tell me. You need to. I, like, already said this.”

“Okay, fuck, fine. Just remember you asked for it.” Nicole crumbled a little more. “I—I don’t even—”

“He couldn’t help you. He was the one person who could’ve helped, and he didn’t want to try.”

“Yeah, so I screamed and screamed and screamed at him, called him a worthless, a failure, a deadbeat—a whole lot of really nasty shit. Back and forth for like an hour. I think I trashed a lot of the house. I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. I just kept screaming, and I—” Nicole shook her head and clenched her eyes shut. “I—told him to kill himself.”

Jecka managed to find a way to hug Nicole more.

“I told him to fucking kill himself, and I kept saying it, since if he wasn’t going to be my dad then what the fuck was he living for? What good was he? To me or anyone else. Nobody needed or wanted him around. He should just kill himself.” Nicole bit back a sob. “I stormed outside and sat on the porch. I was so mad and I couldn’t think straight, but I didn’t want to go home, so I just smoked for like, half an hour, until I stopped shaking.”

Jecka squeezed Nicole hard enough to stop most of her shaking.

“I walk back inside—” Nicole paused, cried, and hugged Jecka back. “I went back inside, and I swear to God, I swear, I’m about two seconds too late. He saw me but he was already squeezing the trigger.” She shimmied her head up and looked at Jecka. “Jecka, when—”

“When you said I had good timing, you really meant it.” Jecka cried, too. “We’ve both fucked that up.”

“Yeah.” Nicole nodded. “We have.”

“Why? That’s such bullshit!”

“I dunno.” Nicole wiped her eyes. “Maybe karma?”

“That’s even dumber.”

“Look, he’s dead, and now you know, okay? I—I didn’t kill my dad, Jecka. I don’t even know if there was a suicide note. I basically blacked out—I can’t get that fucking image of the magnet out of my head. But, it doesn’t really matter.” Nicole frowned. “The truth is that my dad was probably already going to kill himself. He chose that, over and over again. Probably already chose it before I showed up. Maybe that’s what he was about to do, and me, having no way of knowing what was going on, just…” She sighed. “Made it easier. He was that unstable, and maybe that’s what he meant, y’know? He didn’t trust himself to not just do that while I was living there for longer than a couple days.”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about Rachel anymore, Nicole. It is super obvious what you’re leading up to, okay? Stop it. I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Well, too bad! You probably could’ve saved Rachel, anyone could’ve saved her, but they didn’t! Maybe she’d try again later, maybe not. We’ll never know, but I don’t think there was anything I could have done to stop my dad. It’s different.” Nicole moved Jecka’s head back towards her when she tried to look away. “He was forty. Can’t exactly tell him that he has his whole life ahead of him. If I told him I need him around? He’d just call mom. Tell him I love him? That’s not a surprise. He knew that. He wasn’t great, but he was way better than my mom—he was my dad.”

“Okay, I get it. Just—”

“Jecka, Rachel probably didn’t mention you in her note because she didn’t want you to feel guilty,” stressed Nicole. “If you were defending her from what you thought was a rumor, how the fuck is she supposed to tell you that it was true? Doesn’t matter how close you are. That’s still—”

“Scary. It’s still scary.”

“Yeah. It’s fucking terrifying.”

“Great. Now I know all of that shit.” Jecka crossed her arms and pouted. “I said I didn’t want to talk about Rachel. What about that was hard to understand?”

“I thought, I dunno, pushing through that would be more helpful.”

“Well, it wasn’t! Don’t do that again.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“Whatever.” Jecka quickly spun through her iPod again once her parents suddenly became very audible all over again. “What’s something you think we could pass out to while we listen?”

“Enya?”

“I don’t have Enya.”

“You have Jimmy Buffett, Tito Fuente, Breaking Benjamin, MSI, Soulja Boy, Johnny Cash, Homestar-fucking-Runner, and like a million other things on your iPod, but not Enya?”

“I never thought about using her as a sleep aid, okay?” Jecka grimaced along with Nicole as they kept hearing things. “Is she on iTunes?”

“Yes, Enya is on iTunes, obviously.”

“Okay, fine.” Jecka slipped out of her bed and stomped over to her desk, basically slapping her computer on. “Twelve-ninety-nine for the privilege of sleeping in my own bed, yeah, that’s fair and legal.”

“She’s, like, good, though?” offered Nicole, sitting up in her bed. “It’s not like you’re wasting money.”

“You have cost me three-thousand-and-thirteen dollars today, Nicole. Not including gas to and from the pharmacy, or the other drug runs I did, or driving to your house and then to school and then back here,” grumbled Jecka, plugging her iPod in and quickly browsing through the iTunes store. Well. She tried her best to. It was slow. “How is there any traffic right now? It’s three in the fucking morning!”

“Not everywhere.”

“Not helping, Nicole.”

Nicole didn’t wake up slowly. At six in the morning, sharp, Jecka’s alarm went off, and like she was some sorta military brat, she rolled out of bed and hit the ground running. Not out of the room. No, she went straight for Nicole’s pills, filled up her tiny cup with water, grabbed a granola bar from her desk, ripped it open, and set everything down on the nightstand next to Nicole’s bedhead mushed and bleary face.

“Same time every day.” Jecka stood there, staring at her. Waiting. “Take your meds and eat the snack.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Nicole, take your fucking meds and eat the snack. Now.”

“There’s like a range of time, I don’t take them this early, and you can take these on an empty stomach.” Nicole took her meds dry and shoved the granola bar into her mouth regardless. “But, thanks.”

“Yeah.” Jecka sat back down on the bed beside her. “You made it.”

“Made what?” Nicole yawned and wiped her face of sleep. Sort of. “It’s way too early for being vague.”

“You made it through the night, Nicole.” Jecka set her hand on her shoulder. “You made it to Friday.”

“You have got to be shitting me…” Nicole smacked her face down into the pillow. “I thought yesterday was Friday!”

“Uh, no, it literally couldn’t be. The Daily Show and Colbert Report don’t air on Fridays.”

“You keep track of your calendar based on Comedy Central TV scheduling?”

“It’s easier and more fun than using an actual calendar, so, yeah.”

“All of that fucking bullshit yesterday, and I still have to go to school today?!” Nicole groaned. “Let’s just skip.”

“We’re not doing that. You can’t skip anymore if you want to follow me to college.”

“What the hell did I sign up for?” Nicole turned her head, one eye looking at Jecka. “You still want me to do that?”

“I meant everything I said yesterday.” Jecka paled and fidgeted. “Oh, no. Did—”

“Jesus, Jecka, yes, I meant all of it.” Nicole pushed herself up and sighed. “Why are you up so early?”

“I’m always up this early. I’m a morning person, Nicole.”

“And people say I’m a sociopath.”

“Right.” Jecka chuckled. “How do you feel?”

“Like I want to go back to sleep.” Nicole rubbed her face and licked the inside of her teeth. “And that I need some mouthwash or something.”

“There’s some in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, but then I have to get out of bed to use it. Not like I can spit on your floor.”

“Nicole, you are clearly wide awake now! What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I wouldn’t be in bed.”

“Oh, so now you won’t get out of bed? Worst day ever, actual living nightmare, that gets you up, but today, that’s too much?”

“No, Jecka, I’m just cozy and I don’t feel like leaping into the day right this fucking second!”

“You promise you’ll get out of bed?”

“Oh my God, yes, I promise.” Nicole scoffed. “Stop making me promise shit. It’s gonna lose all meaning if you do it a ton.”

“It’s a promise. That’s not how that works.” Jecka sighed. “You do sound better, though. So, that’s good. How do you really feel? Like, emotionally?”

Nicole actually felt the pills dissolve in her stomach, or she thought she did. The swarming locusts receded into a vague sort of buzzing at her fingertips and toes, the flesh they were tearing into, still raw and bloody, scabbing over in seconds. Her heart slammed in her chest, faster, and faster, moving everything where it needed to be, her eyes focusing more with each pump.

The hair on the back of her neck and arms flattened, her shoulders loosened, and her jaw felt loose. Her hands weren’t shaking. Nothing was shaking. Life was still a whirlwind of nightmarish shit; pedophiles, rapists, and murderers around every corner, screeching, sharp, cutting at her neck and spine, but diluted. More space between each railroad spike. Room to breath. Room to exist. Room to…

Stick around, at least for a little while longer.

“I’m okay.” Nicole ran her hands through her hair. “Damn, that worked fast.”

“Wait, it's already back in your system?”

“Yeah, I guess my body’s just that desperate to have it back.” Nicole chuckled breathlessly. “God, this feels so much better.

Jecka just kinda stared at her.

“What?” Nicole raised a brow. “What’re you thinking?”

“How okay exactly are you?” whispered Jecka, biting her lip. “I already feel gross, but, uhm, you actually look way better now.”

“Are you trying to have sex with me?”

“If I said no would you believe me?”

“No, but I’d pretend to.”

“Wow.” Jecka snickered and swallowed, her eyes still very, very set on Nicole. “So, uh. Kinda need an answer. Right now.”

“This was up to you, remember?”

“Yeah, well, the yesterday version of me was apparently way cooler of a person, or maybe I just woke up super horny, because, yeah, that’s not up to me!” Jecka fidgeted, but didn’t move closer or further away. “Please just make a decision so I can either run into the shower or not do that.”

“Jecka…” Nicole snickered into a laugh. “If you want me to follow you to college, we can’t be that late to school.”

“We’re second semester Seniors! Being late won’t make a difference.”

“But what if it does? What if that’s the deciding factor? I was late one too many times on top of all the skipping?”

“I did this to myself.” Jecka’s eyes widened, and she twitched. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“What, you can’t do a quickie?”

“Sure. And I would. Problem is, Jecka, is that you don’t want a quickie.” Nicole smirked and kissed her. “You can wait, can’t you, sweetheart?”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” Jecka gagged. “You sound like you’re forty-five and murdered two of your three ex-wives.”

“And the first one killed herself?”

“Obviously.” Jecka chewed on her lip. “I want a quickie.”

“Jecka—”

“I want a quickie.”

“Tough shit, because I don’t.”

“What?” Jecka raised her brows. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t wanna rush with you.”

“You choose now to be conventionally romantic for the first time ever.” Jecka took a very deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “Whatever. Fine. Later, I guess.”

“I’m not trying to be romantic. Ew.”

“Then why do you want to wait?! I’m right here! We’re literally in bed!”

“I just don’t want to rush. That’s it! That’s all!” Nicole groaned and plopped back down on the bed. “Do you think it’s easy? It’s not. If I’m gonna fuck you, Jecka, I am going to fuck you at my best, not half-asleep with fresh meds.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Jecka slipped up next to her. “That’s actually really sweet.”

“Yeah. I know.” Nicole smirked. “Wanna make out?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jecka’s entire face twitched. “Why?”

“Because you’re pretty.” Nicole kissed her again, and she did not get a chance to lead, since Jecka mounted her and started making out with her. Not aggressively, though. Just comfortably. Happily, kinda. It was nicer than the second time. Warmer.

It was all calm and relaxing for a few minutes, but then something really fucking weird rumbled in the back of her head, spreading everywhere almost instantly, and her skin was on fire, prickling goosebumps, she was wearing too many clothes, and so was Jecka, and this wasn’t enough.

Nicole pushed her away, breathing so short that she was almost lightheaded, and looked down at herself. She was completely flushed, and her legs were shaking, but she didn’t feel sick, and it wasn’t the same kind of anxiety, it was—what the fuck was this? Anticipation? Excitement? She squeezed Jecka’s arms, staring at her very intensely, and kissed her again.

And again. And again. And again.

“You are really good at faking this,” giggled Jecka, pulling her closer. “How do you do that?”

“I don’t think I’m faking,” gasped Nicole, her eyes shaking. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but I don’t know what this is, and I—I’m not faking.”

“Wait, but—I thought—”

“Yeah, me too, but apparently this can happen with you and not other people, and I have no fucking clue what that means, but I don’t care right now!” blurted Nicole, slurring her words the faster she spoke. “How does anyone live like this?!”

“Nicole, hey, we can stop! We can stop, this seems like a lot. We should probably stop.”

They didn’t stop, and the only reason they weren’t late for school was because Jecka sped like a maniac.

School was still bullshit, but it wasn’t as obvious to everyone that she and Jecka were ‘dating’ as they’d kind of assumed it would be. They knew the teachers wouldn’t give a shit, and that unless they screamed it from the rooftops or held hands very aggressively, none of the guys would ever realize it.

They’d feel it out.

And they’d graduate in three months, anyway, so what was the difference?

Emily and Ari were pretty much the only people who did notice, or really pick up on anything. Which they did, almost instantly, before Nicole and Jecka even made it inside the school that morning.

“You two look satisfied.” Emily gave Nicole and Jecka a very careful up-and-down. “Have fun last night?”

“I was going through withdrawal yesterday, so, no not really,” said Nicole. “Can’t you just say ‘good morning’ for once?”

“Nicole, you’re wearing the same outfit as yesterday,” said Ari, lazily gesturing to her. “You even smell like scented detergent. Which you don’t use.”

“Wow, jig is up, immediately. Thanks a lot, Mom.” Jecka scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It’s so bad for your skin but she just keeps buying it.”

“It’s only bad for your skin if you have sensitive skin,” said Emily. “Wait, who doesn’t have sensitive skin?”

“I dunno, old male farmers with more scar tissue and wrinkles than acres?” said Nicole. “Whatever, great job, I guess. Solved the mystery.”

“I said it was ‘when’ and not ‘if’ with you two.” Emily smirked. “Who broke first?”

“Jecka,” answered Nicole, even as Jecka frowned at her. “You did.”

“No, I’d say it was pretty mutual,” grumbled Jecka, crossing her arms. “Not that it’s any of your business, Emily.”

“Fine. I guess I can cut you out of my shit list, Jecka. For now.” Emily grinned at Nicole. “Give me a call when you get bored of her lame preppy bullshit and want something more raw and real. I’ll always be around.”

“How can she be off your shit list if you’re still insulting her?” asked Nicole. “And, hey, could you not do that?”

“Sure. I can wait.”

“You really shouldn’t bother,” sighed Ari, turning fully to Nicole. “You two kind of deserve each other. Please do your absolute best to not take that as anything close to a compliment.”

“Nicole knows what will happen if she so much as twitches towards anything she pulled with you, Ari,” countered Jecka. “I also made it super clear what I don't want, along with what I do want, so I’m not exactly concerned.”

“Yeah, this is what I’m talking about. You’re both enabling each other’s bullshit and have this bizarre fixation on the idea that you won’t be horrible to each other even though you’re the worst to basically everyone else.”

“That’s spooky. We kinda talked about that.” Nicole shrugged. “Well, you’re not wrong. But, I hope you’re not totally right, too.”

“I hope I am, because you can go fuck yourself, Nicole.”

“Fair.” Nicole glanced at Jecka. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“Yeah,” said Jecka, nodding. “What else would I do?”

“I dunno, defend me?”

“From Ari? Bitch, be thankful I’m not actively joining her.”

“Okay, fine.” Nicole sighed. “Any, uh…” She frowned and shrugged. “Weekend plans?”

“Since when do you care about anyone’s weekend plans?” asked Ari. “What the hell happened last night?”

“Dude, I just don’t want to talk about this, okay? Can we move on?”

“Fine, whatever.”

“I do have weekend plans.” Emily nodded and smiled. “My brother’s flying back in from college, so it’s just gonna be, like, wall-to-wall screeching at home for forty-eight hours.”

“Why is that good?” asked Ari. “That sounds horrible.”

“Nobody gives a shit about what I’m doing if they’re all focused on my brother.”

“Oh, I get it.”

“You have a brother?” asked Nicole, once again struggling to remember anything from those two weeks in remedial. “Did I know that?”

“No clue, but, yeah, I do.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s basically Emily,” said Jecka. “Only worse, because he’s a guy.”

“That still doesn’t sound as bad as my brother,” snorted Nicole. “I think I’ve got you beat there, Emily.”

“I mean, I didn’t even know you had one, so, sure, I guess.” Emily gave her an odd look. “I kind of thought you were lying about not remembering anything.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“So you didn’t have to, like, tell me you didn’t love me anymore.” Emily twirled her hair and smirked at Jecka. “Avoid that entire awkward situation and conversation.”

“Dude, come on, so you do remember?” Nicole’s eyes widened. “And I said—”

“Yeah. You were super fucked up, but you did.”

“Doesn’t count.” Jecka took a very deep breath. “She was so high she had memory loss.”

“It totally counts.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I don’t think it counts,” said Ari. “When you’re that high—I mean, you’re just saying everything.”

“You only think that because she lied to your face and she was sober,” snipped Emily. “Get over it, ho. Get over her.”

“Big talk from someone who refuses to try to get over the same girl.”

“It’s called patience, and it is one of my many virtues. You should stop testing it.”

“We should just go,” whispered Jecka, yanking Nicole by the arm and away from the escalating argument, and through the school’s main entrance. “We do not need to deal with any of that.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Nicole. “I really didn’t remember. I still don’t.”

“It’s fine.”

“Really?”

“No, but, whatever, I’ll just deal with it.”

“Deal with what, exactly?” asked Principal Lynn, presiding over the foyer like a gargoyle sculpted for the most specific of Alaskan hard-ons. “I certainly hoped you learned something from yesterday. Perhaps, that it would be best to keep both your heads down for the remainder of your time here?”

“Yeah, I learned that the only dependable way to talk to my mom is to scream at you, so you call her, and then she hears me through a fucky game of telephone,” grumbled Nicole, glaring at Principal Lynn. “Was that the lesson you wanted to impart on us? Or is there a pair of helpful ‘ideas’ bundled up in that blazer of yours now?”

“I guess we’re doing this today before the first bell even rings, sure.” Jecka shrugged. “That’s fine. It’s not like I have class to get to.”

“You’re welcome, Nicole,” whispered Principal Lynn. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, I’m pretty sure my mom will get drunk again,” said Nicole. “I’d say she’s a functioning alcoholic, but, well, we both know she can’t function at all.”

“I think she’s trying to say she was your mom’s date Wednesday night,” added Jecka. “Which, wow, I didn’t think this could get more messed up.”

“You need to get her drunk to get her into bed?” Nicole snorted. “Pathetic. My mom doesn’t have standards. She has quotas. Wow, how bad are you at sex that she needs to be blackout—”

“Alright, Nicole, I believe that’s enough,” cut in Principal Lynn, crossing her arms. “You have three months. Why not try and let them be uneventful? Maybe even relaxing. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Honestly, it sounds amazing.” Jecka frowned at her. “Too bad we can’t have that as long as you’re the one in charge.”

“Oh, so now you have a chip on your shoulder for me, too? Wonderful, Nicole. Your influence rages on, I see.”

“Yeah, that’s not me.” Nicole shook her head. “That’s you.”

“Really now? What exactly did I do to deserve such treatment, Jecka?”

“It’s what you didn’t do,” mumbled Jecka, grabbing Nicole again. “Come on.”

Nicole let herself be pulled away, but didn’t break eye contact with Principal Lynn at first. Regret was still kind of a re-learned concept. It didn’t hurt as much as guilt or grief. However, it was easier to recognize ahead of time. For when Nicole would think back, a week from now, a month, a year, or more, and kick the shit out of herself for not doing something she really should have.

Some things you think about for a little while. Small ‘what if’s. Then there are the medium ones, the kind that rattle around in your skull and bubble up every now and then before you force them back down by explaining them away, or whatever the hell you need to do. The big ones, those, it was so obvious how different they were going to feel.

She’d have regretted not listening to Jecka on the roof. Probably in a suicide note.

She’d have regretted not asking for her help. Probably in a slightly different suicide note.

She’d regret graduating without really gouging out a massive scar on the school. Not in a suicide note, though.

Just every single time she watched Jecka cry, and that idea, just the thought of it, almost made Nicole lose her shit and break both her hands on the lockers they were stomping past.

Huh. Different kind of rage. New-ish. Wasn’t mindless, or cold, or cruel.

Warm and contained.

Three more months?

Nicole could work with that.

Chapter Text

Nicole wanted to die.

It’d have to wait, though.

She had a lot of unfinished business.

Figuring out how to do the most damage possible on her way out of high school was more difficult than Nicole expected it to be. The issue was that she, as a person, was more reactionary than she was proactive. Shit happened, and whatever felt like it would be interesting or entertaining, or cathartic, or vaguely amusing, that’s what she’d do in response.

She kinda didn’t have an ingrained desire to rip people apart if they left her alone. Which was a truly bizarre thing to understand about yourself, considering how often she did that and how good she was at it. And how it was, y’know, kinda fun.

Nobody ever really did leave her alone, but the school as a big grouping of things, as an idea, as an organization, hadn’t really ever gone after her in a way that she could take anywhere near that personally. Not just because it went after everyone, sorta, but because it was just so apathetic about the whole thing. School did not care who it hurt, and the only way you could hurt it would be to burn it down.

Kinda. Emily would totally do it if she asked her to. But that wasn’t fair to her. If she was going to do something that badass and amazing, she needed a way better target. Like, White House and up. Oooh, or the U.N. building in New York! Wait, was that a step up or down? Probably down.

Nicole could target Principal Lynn specifically, but that was just one person. Didn’t really solve shit, not that she cared if she really solved anything. She just wanted to hurt something that couldn’t feel things. Teach it all over again what fear and guilt and pain were. Torture a concept to tears.

Why did that sound so familiar? Oh, right. That was her.

“How do you give an idea antidepressants?” wondered aloud Nicole, drawing the same concentric circles on that big stupid pad of paper in Mr. Lorre’s Art class. Taking it two semesters in a row was the only way she and Jecka could guarantee they’d be in the same class during that block. “Like, if a group of people don’t care, and can’t care, and don’t feel anything, how do you make them?”

“Please tell me you’re not getting into abstract art or something,” said Jecka, having actually gotten kind of good at drawing, considering the decent vase or flower pot she was sketching across from her. “If you need to be a tortured artist, stick with those guitars I’ve never seen you play.”

“Haven’t wanted to in a while.” Nicole shrugged and let Jecka put that one together, which, considering how her pencil skipped like a record, she did. “Do you want to hear me play something?”

“Depends on what you know how to play.”

“I’ll think about it.” Nicole shrugged. “I’m serious about the question. How do you get something to feel stuff that can’t? Or, that doesn’t want to?”

“I guess you just kind of do what you did, right? Oh, duh, antidepressants…” Jecka looked up from her drawing. “That’s a good question.”

“One of my best.”

“Seven out of ten, but, whatever, what kinds of feelings do you want it to have?”

“You’re not gonna ask why?”

“It’ll be really obvious why you want to do this once I know what you want to do.”

“Okay, fair.” Nicole made another few circles on her paper so Mr. Lorre would stop looking at them from across the room. Fucking creep with eyes in the back of his head. “Guilt, mostly. Grief. Self-hatred. Misery.”

“So, revenge?”

“Kind of.”

“What kind of idea are we talking about?” asked Jecka, her attention not really split between her drawing and Nicole, but it sure looked like it. “How many people?”

“School.”

“Every school?”

“That’d be cool, but not exactly realistic. So, just this one.”

“Okay.” Jecka tapped her lips with her pencil. “I mean, honestly, the only things I can think of are revolutions and mass protesting. If the world doesn’t care, Nicole, you have to be as loud and as violent as possible until they either do or you kill them, too.” She shrugged. “Which is kind of a weird thing to teach kids, but it was interesting, I guess.”

“What class could you have possibly learned that in?”

“I dunno, probably AP History. Or maybe it was AP Government?” Jecka’s eyes slowly landed back on Nicole. “Don’t whip up a revolution just to prove a point.”

“I wasn’t going to. That sounds like so much work.”

“Yeah, for something that you’d probably think was worth it! Promise you won’t.”

“Oh my God, fine. I promise.” Nicole rested her chin in her hand and frowned, still making circles. “How do those even start, anyway?”

“Nicole,” warned Jecka. “Ugh, whatever, you’ll just look it up even if I don’t tell you.” She sighed. “It depends. If enough people get enough crazy shit thrown at them, they snap and force stuff to change. Typically with, like, some form of genocide or atrocity or whatever.”

“So, that’s the only way to change things?”

“Uh, no, Nicole. I said mass protesting also worked.” Jecka leaned a bit closer over the table. “If you make a big enough stink for long enough, you can basically make anything happen.”

“How big are we talking?”

“Civil Rights movement, so, not really something you can repeat.” Jecka faked focusing on her drawing, and Nicole did as well, right before Mr. Lorre walked by. “Stuff like huge union strikes, literally hundreds of thousands, millions, of people, all screaming about the same thing.”

“Screaming at who? Their bosses?”

“I guess? I kinda feel like they were more screaming at their friends and family, though. Their neighbors or whatever.” Jecka shifted in her stool. “Anybody who reads the newspaper, which back then was basically everyone. People who either weren’t listening or who didn’t know what was happening, but would join up once they understood how bad stuff really was.”

“That’s pretty punk.” Nicole connected her dumb circles with some jagged lines to make it look like her drawing had some weird planning or whatever. “Like, literally punk.”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s what you think I’d be good at?” asked Nicole, smirking. “Getting the word out for what needs blowing up and how much people should care about it? Targeting angry mobs?”

“Not every journalist does stuff like that, Nicole.”

“What other kind would I be?”

“I dunno. Maybe you’ll like something less chaotic or insane or less super likely to land you in Guantanamo,” grumbled Jecka. “It doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You promised you wouldn’t whip up a revolution.”

“I know.” Nicole crossed her arms and rested her head on her desk. “Feels kinda awesome that you’re so confident I could do that, though.”

“You just do shit sometimes, Nicole. All I’m saying is that it’s far from impossible.”

“I guess. Good thing I didn’t say anything about not inciting mass protests.”

“Nicole,” warned Jecka. “What do you even want to protest? Education?”

“No, just the people who work in it.” Nicole sighed. “It wouldn’t feel right if we graduated without making the biggest mess of things ever.”

“Why not? What is so horrible about walking away?”

“It’s kinda all I’ve ever done, ever been able to do, and I’m fucking sick of it,” growled Nicole, not really at Jecka. Hopefully she knew that. “I don’t want to stay, but I won’t let them forget me.”

“Oh my God, it’s high school. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s going to be over in like, three months.”

“Yeah? Well…” Nicole sat up, still kinda slouching. “What if it did matter?”

“It doesn’t need to.”

“Okay, what if I want it to?”

“Do you?”

“If that’s the only way I can make the school and the board of education give a shit, then yeah.”

“Give a shit about what?”

“Everything they don’t.”

“You don’t even know why you want to burn it all down,” sighed Jecka. “You’re just so confident that you do.”

“No, this feels different.” Nicole shook her head. “I just need an angle, and then it’ll all make sense.”

“Fine, whatever, if you figure this out, I’ll help you, okay?”

“Really?” Nicole raised her brows. “Why?”

“Because I want to see this place burn just as much as you, Nicole. I don’t think it’s worth it, but if you can prove me wrong? Why wouldn’t I help you?”

“Cool.” Nicole waited a few seconds. “So, do you wanna hang out after school?”

“Aren’t we already doing that?”

“I dunno. We can. If that’s what you want. Either way…” Nicole shrugged. “My mom’s more likely to leave us alone than yours because, y’know, she doesn’t care.”

“Nicole, how many times do I have to tell you to call before you bring people over!” Mom stopped her screeching the moment she realized that, yeah, the girl standing next to Nicole in the doorway was Jecka. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jecka. That’s not to say you aren’t welcome to stay! Assuming you keep out of my medicine cabinet. The house is just a mess.”

“No, it’s fine, I feel very welcome and accepted in your home,” deadpanned Jecka. “I totally get it.”

“Yeah, at least one more time, Mom.” Nicole didn’t bother rolling her eyes. “Are we done?”

“Almost.” Mom grabbed Nicole by the shoulder the second she tried to walk past her. “Jecka, can you give my daughter and I a minute alone?”

Jecka walked up the stairs and into Nicole’s room.

“Don’t touch me.” Nicole tried to yank her hand away, but couldn’t. “Mom! Cut it out!”

“If I do, you’ll just run away and lock yourselves in your room.” Mom sighed and looked down her nose at her. “Is everything alright with Jecka?”

“Yeah.” Nicole took a full second to remember just what in the fuck her mom could possibly be talking about. “Mostly. Again, it’s really personal, so I shouldn’t talk about it. I also just really don’t want to.”

“Is anyone in danger? Is anyone hurt?”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you think is wrong, and I can tell you how much you don’t have to waste time worrying about?”

“Nicole, when was the last time you took any interest in a friend’s well being?” whispered Mom, very, very quietly, and her instincts were good since Jecka was sneaking back out of Nicole’s room and silently listening at the top of the stairs. “The only reason I can think of that would motivate you to do something anywhere near this compassionate would be if she were, well, extremely depressed.”

“Everyone’s depressed, Mom.”

“Not like that. You know what I meant,” whispered Mom, somehow even quieter, and pulled Nicole into a hug so she could basically just talk into her ear. Nicole didn’t hug her back. “Did she try to kill herself? Did she threaten to? Talk about doing it? Do you need me to call someone?”

Nicole wished she carried a knife like Ari did. She wished she knew how to manifest a shiv like Emily probably could. It’d be cleaner that beating her mom to death with whatever the closest blunt object she could find would be. But, that’s not what happened. Nicole did not murder her mother, surprising herself yet again.

Fuck, did she want to, though. More than anything in the world did she want to squeeze on her windpipe until she heard it snap. Her brother’s gun was still under his bed. Fully loaded. There were so many options, so many ways, and absolutely none of them were going to happen.

The only thing that stopped Nicole from exploding at that very second was Jecka’s far more horrified, disgusted, and hurt face at the top of the stairs. Because at least someone knew the truth. At least Jecka understood. Jecka saw exactly what was happening, and she didn’t need to watch Nicole crush her mom’s skull with a blender to feel all of it.

Sharing the truth, no matter how bad it was, kinda made it easier to deal with.

“I’m fine,” said Jecka, raising her voice, much to her mom’s shock and embarrassment. “Thanks for worrying about me, but I’m okay. It’s nothing like that.”

“I am so sorry, I didn’t realize you were there. Even so, thank goodness, I was—” Mom tried to grab Nicole again as she pushed her away and failed. “Nicole, you—oh, alright, that was all I was concerned about, anyway.”

“Yeah. I know. I promise, Mom…” snarled Nicole, grabbing Jecka and practically stomping into her room. “You don’t have to worry about Jecka!” She slammed the door as hard as she could, and it rattled her entire room. “She is so fucking lucky you were there.”

“I was honestly halfway done figuring out how to make it look like a suicide before you pulled me in here,” said Jecka, her voice so small and fragile. “And if that wasn’t going to work, well, if Breaking Bad wasn’t lying, I know how to dissolve a body in a plastic tub.”

“Is it hard?”

“Nicole, we’re not murdering your mom.” Jecka sighed. “It sucks, but she’s really not worth it.”

“First burning the school down, both metaphorically and literally, that’s not worth it. And now killing my mom isn’t worth it? What is worth it, Jecka?”

“Basically everything else in life!”

“You are going to need one hell of an explanation to convince me not to murder her the second you leave and won’t be implicated.” Nicole scowled at her. “I am willing to risk getting a job for the health insurance so I can keep my meds, Jecka.”

“Well, what do you want to do more right now? Kill her, or fuck me?” Jecka sat down on Nicole’s very messy bed. “If we spend all weekend dealing with this, we will have, like, literally no time to have sex.”

That spark from the morning was still there. The itching heat that flared all over and made her feel less in control of her own body. She wasn’t, but the illusion was terrifyingly effective. Wasn’t always raging in the back of her head, though. It wasn’t the only thing she thought about. Such a small, flickering, tiny feeling that seemed to have no idea when or if it should make itself known in force.

It still took some effort, a conscious choice, but Nicole couldn’t really say she didn’t want stuff anymore. She just wanted really specific stuff with one person, and only that person, and when she wanted it was, uh, inconsistent? Maybe? It didn’t really matter, the more she thought about it. If anybody else had been the one on her bed, Nicole might give it more consideration.

But Jecka wasn’t scary. She was really pretty and cool and punk. And wanted her. Wanted Nicole. That was another thing that clicked that morning. Something Nicole never expected to care about or even recognize as important.

Wanting to fuck somebody you were into was one thing, but knowing somebody wanted to fuck you because they were into you? It felt…really nice. Not even necessarily the sex, though, yeah, it was good, just the fact of it. The truth of it.

Jecka wanted her. Just her. Nobody else.

She could say no. She didn’t want to. Hopefully, she never would.

“That’s not even a question.” Nicole pushed her down and kissed her, probably a little too aggressively, but holy shit was she still mad. “Even if you did just whore yourself out to save my mom’s life.”

“Ew, no, I didn’t!”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“No, that’s not what I did. I convinced my bestie to get off her ass and help me make up for way too many years of lame sex instead of wasting two days on a really stupid impulse.” Jecka shot her an uneasy smile and even less confident wink, cupping her face. “You wanted to take your time with me, right? We’ve got plenty.”

“Is it healthy to try and fuck feelings away?” asked Nicole, smirking. “I’ve never been on the receiving end of that, so I honestly have no idea.”

“Fine, I’ll do this myself.” Jecka started peeling Nicole’s clothes off, even as she wriggled around on the bed, snickering into a pained, but relieving, belly laugh. “Because clearly you are way too distracted to realize you have the hottest bitch ever saying she wants to be fucked stupid!”

Nicole really shouldn’t have had any trouble sleeping, even though Jecka wasn’t the best pillow. They’d done too much, but that was fine. Mom had left them alone, which, yeah, smart move, bitch. Best decision you’ve made in almost twenty years. Still, in the dark, Jecka’s breathing so quiet in her ear, she really couldn’t sleep.

Her brain just would not shut the fuck up about taking revenge on the school. All of that messy, sorta awkward, sorta not, better-as-it-went sex and she was still fixating on some stupid idea about protesting or whatever that she kinda expected to forget about by the time she got home. Jecka was sleeping half-naked on her but apparently her brain was more interested in other shit.

Nicole kept circling around the concept of ‘the truth’. Sharing it. Sort of. Talking helped, as much as she really hated to admit that, but the only kind of talking that helped was being sincere. Yapping about whatever the hell she thought the truth was. What she could kinda guess she was or should be feeling. Or just what she was thinking about.

She wasn’t going to stop lying to get shit done, since sometimes that was just that much more effective and faster, but yeah, she could tell Jecka the truth. Maybe a few more bits and pieces to her shrink, if she felt like it. Nothing huge. Just, random shit. If more people were willing to actually listen, and not just pretend to, then maybe she’d be more open.

Maybe.

Was that what it was? Was it never about honesty, but more, like, Nicole just really wanted people to get their heads out of their asses and fucking listen to her when she was telling the truth? Because when she lied, she was more convincing. Sometimes it was just entirely random as to what people would believe when she talked to them, sure, but lying was something she could control.

The truth was just one thing, sorta. You could twist it and bend it, but if you pushed it too hard, it stopped being what it was. Lies? Every single piece of the puzzle was hand-crafted by herself. Artisanal, basically. You could tweak all of the elements to make your point and manipulate everyone into believing you. If it doesn’t work, you can think on your feet.

If nobody gives a shit about the truth, or doesn’t believe you, that was it. There was only so much you could do, and sometimes, when people did believe her, they were disgusted, or didn’t care. Didn’t think her opinion mattered or that she had any credibility. That she was worth nothing. How do you fight against that? You can’t. If people don’t give a shit, and they know everything, and you’ve tried every angle, they aren’t going to care.

So, you need to lie, which means that her brain wasn’t rolling around because of the truth. Just people listening to her. Hearing her. She’d already burnt any and all benefit of the doubt years ago, but at the same time, she wanted people to believe her on her word alone. Even if she did have evidence, or whatever, she wanted people to listen and want to believe her.

Nicole shouldn’t need to be in some of the worst danger imaginable for people to just take her at her word. Nobody should have to deal with that, not that she really fucking cared about anybody else, except Jecka. Did people do that to Jecka? They probably did.

Well, fuck people doing that to her.

Life had done a lot of horrible shit to Nicole, and even with a lifetime of trying she’d never actually be able to outdo the world in its cruelty. Sort of. Sure, she knew she was lucky, in the back of her head. ‘Nice’ part of the country, ‘nice’ part of the planet, she’d never gone hungry, and homelessness was a threat rather than a lived reality.

Mom didn’t give a shit about her, but DCFS basically forced her to raise her with a roof over her head. Ticking clock on that, yeah. Basically miracle her mom hadn’t already kicked her out anyway. Maybe she’d cared, years and years ago, and it had just fated with time, but Nicole still had meds in her system that would cost a fortune without her mom’s insurance.

Even as she was lying there, trying to wrap her arm a little more around Jecka without waking her up, she could almost hear all of the tiny cutting words, in her own voice, echoing through her room and skull, slicing into her skin thicker than it used to be but still too thin. Berating her for wanting more. Hoping for more. She had everything. She was safe. When would she ever be satisfied?

Fucking never, that’s when.

Because Jecka had more than Nicole and still suffered through hell. Part of it was Nicole’s fault, which was the worst kind of guilt ever, even if it felt like it also wasn’t her fault. Jecka had chosen to do all that she did. She could say no. Why should Nicole feel guilty about that somebody else’s stupid fucking mistakes? Jecka said she knew she could do better, but didn’t want to do better.

Ugh, now she was repeating herself. There was guilt. There should probably be more. But that wasn’t even the biggest thing right then, bubbling in her gut and tightening her neck and skull and chest. It was every kind of rage, not just the new-ish kind. Because nowhere near all of Jecka’s problems were even related to Nicole.

Some of them were things she’d just always had.

First world problems, white girl problems, rich hot white girl problems, yeah, sure, except that didn’t mean they weren’t still problems. Bad shit was bad shit. Even if you shut everything off, drug yourself into strung out, eternally numb oblivion, you’re still doing it because of all of that pain.

Fuck all of the people who told Jecka to shut up and forget. Fuck every night she probably had to just sit there and cry and wonder and scream because nobody listened. Fuck everyone trying to silence her. Fuck everyone forgetting about Rachel. Fuck Rachel’s parents. Fuck her sister. Fuck Jecka’s parents.

Fuck everyone but her.

Nicole couldn’t just graduate without traumatizing the entire damn building. Sear some part of her soul into the bricks so even when she was dead, her goddamn ghost would not let them forget her. Wasn’t enough.

Even if Jecka didn’t want to be remembered, that was fine.

She’d get something way better instead.

As much revenge as Nicole was capable of giving her.

It wasn’t until the following Monday that Nicole felt that she’d essentially ‘recovered’ from the hellscape of Thursday that should be ignored, buried, and shot in the back of the head the moment she figured out how to selectively erase parts of her brain on command. Even then, it was all relative. Nothing was magically solved, even if the weekend had been…good? Cathartic?

Exhausting. But, like, not bad exhausting. Just really fucking stupid. She and Jecka were beat. Emotionally, physically, mentally—everything. Felt about as bad as a three-day hangover, kinda. Sorta.

They’d had way too much sex. They’d seriously overdone it. Again, not even in a good way, no, just, they had to treat it all like their favorite new hobby or toy or some bullshit like that. Even if it kinda was for Nicole, since that feeling hadn’t really gone away like she was scared it would the second she stopped.

Nicole just kept feeding her own fire, and Jecka did too, basically just to see what would happen. She still felt like she pulled half of the muscles in her face and most of her body just from how much they went at each other. Because Nicole, and, of course, Jecka, were just so goddamn stupid.

Felt good, though. And they avoided murdering her mom. So there was that.

“The roof just isn’t the same at lunch,” grumbled Jecka, lighting a cigarette and absently looking out over the suburban sprawl around the school. “And it’s not just the time limit, either.”

“I know what you mean.” Nicole gave her a small nod as Jecka lit hers, and took a drag. “It’s just less fun when we’re slightly more allowed to be here.”

“I was thinking more that there’s a way higher chance of people barging in, but yeah, that kinda sucks, too.”

“Barging in on what?” Nicole raised a brow at her. “Jecka. Jecka.”

“I know! I know, it’s filthy up here.” Jecka snickered into a smile. “It’s just an idea.”

“You have a car with power seats.”

“It was just an idea, Nicole.” Jecka took a drag. “You look like you’ve got one.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve looked super focused on literally everything that isn’t school all day.”

“Dammit, was it that obvious? Well, yeah, I’ve just been thinking about—okay, I never really stopped, but your idea, about journalism? Yeah, hasn’t left my head.”

“Really?” Jecka raised her brows. “I’m shocked.”

“Why? Journalism’s totally a hot girl profession.”

“I mean, yeah, but I just kinda said it during a lot of other crazy shit going on, Nicole. I didn’t expect you to remember something that tiny.”

“It wasn’t tiny to me, because the more I think about it, really get into the grit, the more I feel like you’re right, Jecka.”

“About it as a career path?”

“Yeah. Not only that, though…” Nicole took a drag and gave her a sidelong glance. “I can start right this second.”

“Nicole, we’ve almost graduated,” groaned Jecka. “Can you please not try and pull any bullshit for three months? Please?”

“No, no, that’s why I had the idea. See, no matter how many exceptions there are, following you to some fancy school is going to be crazy expensive, right?” asked Nicole, leaning back against the nearly faded spray paint mural of a dog taking a shit. “Or am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong, but I can’t even imagine what the fuck that has to do with—is this a get rich quick scheme? Those aren’t real.”

“They are for the people at the top of the pyramid, but no, this isn’t about that.” Nicole snickered. “Even if I do transfer from somewhere else after a semester. I’d need huge scholarships to even afford to stick around where you end up.” She took another drag. “The kinds that you can get at the last second for very special circumstances. Like doing something big and impressive that’ll look amazing on an application.”

“Oh God.” Jecka eyed her warily. “Okay. Let’s hear it. Something like what, Nicole?”

“Exposing the school. The district. All of it. Everything they covered up, or turned a blind eye to.”

“This again? I thought you were going to just drop it after the weekend.” Jecka frowned. “You don’t need something newsworthy to go to a decent school, anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’d be way easier if I did do something newsworthy! And, like, anyone looking at my application would ask, hey, why should we care about this white bitch from a cul-de-sac with shitty grades and test scores that are, at best, decent?” Nicole smirked and took another drag. “They look an inch or two down, and bam. There’s their answer. Because I’ve been working on this story, that I’m also a victim of, since the day I got here.”

“That’s not even really a lie, Nicole.” Jecka grimaced. “You kinda have been doing that. I mean, not originally, not on purpose, but turning all of it into something productive honestly makes it more believable…” She took a drag. ”It’s still a bad idea, though.”

“What, seriously?” Nicole spun back towards her, throwing out her hands. “You told me you’d help if I proved it was worth it, if I found my angle, and you just said I wasn’t even lying about it!”

“Just because you’re not technically lying doesn't mean it’s suddenly worth it! If you even try to look into this stuff, like, in a way that could actually do something, you’ll get expelled for some bullshit thing they’ll make up,” explained Jecka, her eyes hardening. “Or maybe for something you actually did which they’d decided to originally ignore.”

“Every journalistic endeavor is a risk, Jecka. This one’s obviously worth it.”

“You don’t know the first thing about journalism, either!” Jecka groaned. “All you know is how shit works on TV and movies, and there’s no way it actually works like that! Do you have any idea how to conduct an interview, or find sources, or write stuff in the right way?”

“Uh, no, but, like…” Nicole blushed and rubbed the back of her head. “We could look it up on the internet?”

“We could, but how would we even get stuff published?”

“I already thought of that.” Nicole tapped the side of her head. “We join the journalism club.”

“We don’t have that.” Jecka’s face went slack. “Did you mean write for the school paper?”

“Totally, yeah.”

“You didn’t know we—”

“Okay, no, I didn’t know that, and maybe this idea is a little half-baked, but I still think it’s an amazing one.” Nicole scoffed. “This was always the problem with becoming a serial killer, you know? Nobody actually learns anything.”

“I don’t—” Jecka blinked and stared at her. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Jecka, if I just murder them—”

“Murder who?”

“The pedophiles. Most of the faculty.”

“Oh, okay. Continue.”

“Yeah, if that’s the path I take, that doesn’t actually explain to anyone why I killed them. Even if I write some manifesto, people are going to totally misread it or something, or think I was insane if nobody comes forward and corroborates anything.” Nicole shrugged. “That, and it doesn’t really solve the problem or even really address anything.”

“And you think exposing one school district using its own school newspaper will solve something? Solve anything?”

“No, but it’ll feel amazing to do it,” stressed Nicole. “We need to fucking terrify these pieces of shit into turning themselves in, or killing themselves, or just, I dunno, stopping. Make it clear that there is no escape, no hiding, and we will find out.” She exhaled smoke through her nose. “None of this shit will ever stop, or even slow down, if we just keep letting it happen. If we don’t talk about it.”

“Okay, Nicole, cut the bullshit with me, why are you actually doing this?” Jecka got up in her face and frowned, cigarette hanging from her lips. “If you’re trying to do something noble for Rachel, or whatever, again, stop. I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”

“This isn’t about her,” defended Nicole, mostly telling the truth. Kind of. “This is about you. And me.”

“And her, kinda automatically.”

“Then, yeah, sure, if it needs to include her, yes. This can also be about Rachel.”

“I don’t want it to be, Nicole.” Jecka crossed her arms. “She’s dead. Let her rest. That’s what she wanted. Sleep forever. For this to all stop.”

“It won’t ever fucking stop until somebody actually does something! That’s the whole problem!” snapped Nicole. “I’m not going to dig up her grave, Jecka. I’m putting everyone else in their own.”

“Look, that’s, like, halfway poetic, but you can’t win this, Nicole. This is just how things are. Maybe, eventually, it won’t be like this.” Jecka took another drag, her eyes falling as she backed away. “We’re seventeen. We can’t really do anything that isn’t waiting or just, y’know, surviving.”

“I am so fucking sick of that shit!” yelled Nicole, actually hearing something in her brain snap. “We’re seventeen! We’re just kids! We don’t have rights!” She threw up her hands and started stomping around the roof, kicking over the piles of frisbees as she snarled. “Why are we just accepting that?! It’s not even true! It’s never been true!”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Jecka gaped at her. “Yeah, it sucks—why do you care? Since when do you care?”

“I think—” Nicole took a breath and set her jaw. “I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? Maybe always. Just buried under so much bile and vomit.”

“You can’t convince me you’ve always been some secret activist in waiting, Nicole.”

“Goddamnit, Jecka, I want to do this for you, okay?! I need to do this! Let me fucking end this for you! Let me make you my Helen of Troy!” Nicole chuckled darkly at Jecka’s genuine shock. “Your best friend kills herself, the whole school, even your friends, wants to cover it up and forget about it, and they convince you that’s the end of it! That there’s nothing you can do.”

“Because there isn’t, Nicole! Just drop it already!”

“No.” Nicole shook her head. “I can do this. We can do this.” She grabbed Jecka by the shoulders. “They think this is over, that we’ll just forget, but you didn’t. And now that I know? I’ll never forget, either. Look, we’ve always been able to do something. We were just too scared, or didn’t know how.”

“I…I finally have you, and in less than a week, you’re already trying to throw it all away.” Jecka shrugged her off and turned away. “It doesn’t matter if you’re doing this for me. I don’t want this, Nicole.”

“What do you want, then? I’m trying to give you some closure here, Jecka! What else could you want?”

“I just want to get out of this school alive and never come back!” snapped Jecka, spinning back to her, her face red. “I want to leave. I don’t ever want to think about this shit ever again! I just—I want to walk away. I want to move on. Let this die here, and never look back.”

“That’s just what your friends did to you, Jecka.” Nicole swallowed, shaking a little, because that might’ve been one step too far. “That’s what the faculty did. It’s what they did to Rachel. Do you really want to pull the same thing as them?”

“I—” Jecka froze up, eyes widening almost out of her skull, and took a very uneven drag, her fingers shaking. “You’re right. Oh my God, I was doing the same thing.”

“It’s what they want us to do, Jecka. Roll over, bend over, and keep our mouths shut.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s what they want. Well. Fuck them,” growled Jecka. “Fuck that! Fuck all of that!” She took a breath, stood up straight, and nodded. “Okay, I’m in. I promised, and—yeah. I’m in. What do we do?”

“Wait, really?” Nicole raised a brow. “That’s all it took?”

“I promised, and that was a hell of a lot more than you think it was.”

“Oh. Yeah, guess it was.” Nicole took another drag. “I think you’re right about journalism.”

“You already said that.”

“Yeah, but, it’s even more obvious than you think. This is just sitting right in front of us, but everybody else is just too terrified or convinced that they can’t speak up. That no one will listen. That they may as well just kill themselves.” Nicole scowled. “Fuck that—yeah, exactly. Fuck all of that. We’ll listen. Why wouldn’t we? Whatever it takes to fuck these assholes over so they’ll never see the sun again.”

“This has nothing to do with justice, does it? The truth? Ethics? Like, the stuff journalism is I’m pretty sure about?” Jecka sighed. “You got me so worked up, and it’s still about revenge.”

“Revenge for you.”

“Yes, I am very aware.”

“I mean, does it have to be about justice?”

“No, but wouldn’t you want it to be?”

“I dunno. Hadn’t thought about it like that.” Nicole shrugged. “Whatever, some other people get some justice on the side, I guess. They can ride on my coattails for a few minutes, why not?”

“Our coattails.”

“Right.”

“Yeah, so…” Jecka shot a very unamused glare. “You still haven’t told me what step-fucking-one is, Nicole.”

“Couldn’t be simpler.” Nicole stuck her hands in her jacket pockets and shrugged. “Blackmail Coach Colby.”

“He doesn’t go after Seniors, Nicole.”

“We know Juniors. We can totally get Juniors to play along for this.”

“Yeah, true. Coach Colby is dumb enough to get caught again. He’s still just one guy, though.”

“Is he? Are you sure?”

“I mean, no, I’m not positive he’s not a bunch of tiny aliens in a big suit like Men in Black—”

“That’s obviously not what I meant. Look, we’ve had pedophiles trying to fuck us at basically every opportunity. They’re not exactly being subtle about it, and they’re not the mafia. They don’t know how to hide shit.” Nicole grinned, taking a longer drag. “We get one—maybe not even Coach Colby—to slip up on camera or on audio, again, but this time we hold on to that. And not for money.”

“Not for—” Jecka’s eyes bugged out. “Nicole, you’re scaring me.”

“Just listen! He’s got two options. We report him, again, or he talks, because there’s no way he doesn’t know who else is doing this shit. And when, and where, and with who. Stuff we probably have no clue about. It’s gotta be some fucked up, loosely affiliated brotherhood of predators.”

“You’re gambling a lot on a potential conspiracy. Even if I’m almost positive you’re right. If Principal Lynn was telling you the whole truth, that might really be our way in.” Jecka furrowed her brow and tapped ash. “You know, if Mr. Lorre turns out to be a pedophile, we can start really quickly.”

“Mr. Lorre? I mean, yeah, he probably is. He’s a male teacher.”

“Nicole, he’s the sponsor of the school paper. He’s talked about it like a hundred times in class.”

“Oh, shit.” Nicole raised her brows. “I must’ve skipped those days.”

“Yeah, just not paying attention.” Jecka shrugged. “Either way, if he is, which he probably is, we just need to ‘promise’ extra nicely that we won’t expose him for ratting out his monster buddies.”

“Yo, I didn’t even think of that.” Nicole whistled. “That’s perfect.”

“We can’t do this halfway, okay? We’re working ourselves to the bone until we either win or we die.” Jecka gave her a very stern look. “Once we start, we go all the way. No matter what. Right?”

“Yeah.” Nicole nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Okay. Good.” Jecka took a drag. “We need a back-up plan.”

“For which part?”

“In case the school paper gets shut down.”

“Internet.”

“It really is the answer to everything, isn’t it?” Jecka slowly turned to Nicole. “If we actually pull this off, it’ll be the most badass thing we’ll ever do.”

“Aim higher, bitch.” Nicole grinned and flashed her a wink. “I’m not settling for beltway fame, and neither should you.”

“Alright.” Jecka gave her a much closer look. “Hey, uh…”

“What?”

“How do you feel?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“You’re still smiling, Nicole.”

“I am?” Nicole palmed her mouth, cigarette resting between her fingers. She was. It still didn’t hurt. “I am.”

“Yeah. You are.”

“Weird.” Nicole took another drag. “Guess the roof must be magic.”

“How do you figure?”

“Can’t remember the last time anybody saw me fake being happy for this long.”

Jecka just smiled, wider and wider.

“...as your Valedictorian of Class of ‘09,” failed to project Jeffery, his nasally voice being amplified by the hastily converted gym’s speaker system as he basically swallowed the microphone up on that pedestal he will never reach again. “In my four years here, I’ve come to understand that…”

Nicole didn’t decorate her cap and gown. She hadn’t seen the point, since anything she’d have put on it would’ve gotten her kicked out of the ceremony. For the first time ever, she really wanted to be at school. Couldn’t miss a single second. The victory was going to feel so much more amazing if she witnessed it in person. There was something to be said about—oh, shit, people were starting to heckle Jeffery.

How had Nicole not considered that as a possibility? Sloppy.

“Fine!” snapped Jeffery. “Nicole, how about you come up here and say a few words?”

“Nah, dude, I’m good!” yelled Nicole, cupping her hands from the middle of the audience. “Everybody shut the fuck up and let him talk for once!”

“Oh, wow. Thanks, Nicole!” said Jeffery, clearly having not even the smallest clue that the only reason anybody was listening to Nicole was because they instinctively knew that she was up to something. And, oh, yes, she was. “Where was I—oh, dangit, I dropped my notecards…”

Nicole waited, and waited, though she wasn’t tuning out Jeffery’s bullshit speech about respect and equality. Yeah, because he totally actually absolutely believed in those things. She’d even helped him write it after she got a good look at the notes he was writing in the past couple weeks. It was exactly the kind of podium-humping crap that sounded good, but meant absolutely nothing.

It also had one particular sentence in it that she was just itching to hear, and her finger on the literal button under her gown was so tempting to push early. She had restraint. She’d worked too hard for sub-par revenge.

“...as cruel and unkind as we can be to each other, I believe there is a good heart in each and every one of us,” continued Jeffery. “That all of our experiences here today will make us better people, to ourselves, and each other…”

Nicole was entirely unsurprised by Principal Lynn pulling her into the aisle and taking her aside. “Shouldn’t you be on stage sucking him off? Or are you just that sick of my mom that you want to make a move on me?” She held up her hands as she patted her down, searching and quickly finding the little clicker she had in her hand. “Aw, man, you got me.”

“You lunatic,” whispered Principal Lynn, scowling. “What have you done? What is this? Is it a bomb? Did you plant a fucking bomb in here?”

“Jesus, no, of course not. Nobody’s going to die. Nobody’s going to get hurt.” Nicole smirked. “Physically.”

“Oh for God’s sake, is this Carrie?” Principal Lynn sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re dropping pig’s blood on Jeffery.”

“Wow, that’s how lame you think I am? Why would I do that? He’s not a girl. That wouldn’t even make sense as a Senior prank.”

“No one is going to be hurt, and this is nothing more than a Senior prank?” Principal Lynn scoffed. “I am not nearly so foolish as to believe that, Nicole.”

“...because the truth of this school, of our lives, and education, is that everyone has the same opportunities when they walk through those doors…”

“I never said it was a Senior prank. I just said that pulling a Carrie would be a bad one.”

“This—” Principal Lynn took a closer look at the clicker she’d snatched from Nicole. “This is for a garage.”

“You seriously thought I’d sit here all smug if this all hinged on me pressing a button? Yeah, I’m the contingency plan.” Nicole grinned. “You could wait and see what happens, you know. Look the other way. I mean, why change now?” She flashed her teeth and snarled. “That’s all you’ve ever done.”

“—most of all, the biggest truth is that each and every member of our faculty deserves a standing ovation for their dedication to our education! Let’s hear it for our teachers!”

Principal Lynn didn’t have a chance to respond before all of the parents rose to Jeffery’s summons, and the rest of the student body did, too. Nicole started clapping, and so did Principal Lynn, almost on instinct alone. For about half a second, Nicole saw all of that fear in her eyes start to fade.

Made the moment that much sweeter. See, this is why she needed to see it in person.

Newspapers rained down from the lighting rigs by the hundreds, some bundled up, some entirely freely flying and gliding to the ground, but what at first looked like confetti or rice or streamers filling the air of the gym quickly became much more horrifying. Because those cheers and clapping hands turned into murmurs, then gasps, then yelling, all at the people they had just been applauding and praising.

Nicole caught one of the newspapers out of the air while Principal Lynn was apparently stunned silent and folded it correctly, taking her time to open it and carefully read through the front page. “Wow, did you know half the faculty fucked kids and the other half knew about it?” She whistled. “What is the world coming to? I swear.”

“I heard the same thing! No way it’s true, though! But this sure is a lot of people yelling about it!” gasped Jecka, running up to them, a little sweaty, since she was just basically just crawling through the rafters a minute ago. “That’s so crazy that I never heard about any of this. How’d things get this bad, Principal Lynn? You really knew nothing?”

“You two are absolutely out of your minds.” Principal Lynn took the newspaper out of Nicole’s hands and started reading it, her face paling whiter than a ghost as her eyes flicked faster and faster across the page. “Are these LHS student suicide statistics?!”

“Oh, they definitely are, and that took some doing,” said Jecka. “People really hate talking about the how and why of friends and family killing themselves.”

“These can’t be accurate. It’s far too high.”

“My best friend is one of them—” Jecka pointed to a very specific point on the chart. “There she is. So, yeah, you better fucking believe I did the math right,” she snapped. “You should probably get up on stage and smooth all this over.”

“Take your top off,” suggested Nicole. “I’m still bummed that Palin never tried that on the campaign trail. You are hotter, so it should work wonders.

“Totally, yeah. Would have absolutely clinched the election, so why not go for it?” Jecka sneered. “It’s not like you have anything left to lose.”

“Do you two have any idea what you’ve just done?” asked Principal Lynn, her voice dropping as she folded the newspaper. “Any conception at all?”

“Uh, yeah?” Jecka crossed her arms and scoffed. “We put our education towards a very good cause.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be proud of us for applying ourselves to such extracurricular greatness?” asked Nicole. “We never would have done any of this if you hadn’t been such a huge inspiration.”

“Of course.” Principal Lynn sighed and handed Nicole the newspaper as an actual angry mob began to form around them. Nicole would not be surprised if they’d brought pitchforks from home. “This won’t change anything.”

“We know, you heartless bitch,” growled Jecka. “So, how about you turn around, bend over, and fuck off and die!”

Principal Lynn turned around and fucked off, but she didn’t bend over. Only time would tell if she died as she tried to field questions from the increasingly aggressive horde of people that were only vaguely allowing her to move towards the podium. Hopefully she’d die later, since when all of this went to court they’d kind of need her testimony.

“Can I have my garage clicker back?” asked Jecka, holding her hand out. “Did that even help?”

“Yeah, here.” Nicole tossed it to her, having already swiped it back from Principal Lynn. “It totally did. She didn’t look up once.”

“Oh, cool. So, now what?”

“I dunno.” Nicole shrugged and idly glanced back at the screaming mob of parents and students basically storming the stage, which school security seemed entirely incapable of stopping. “As much as I want to stick around and watch this, I’m actually really hungry.”

“Oh my God, yeah, me too.” Jecka tossed her cap into the air with zero ceremony and pulled her gown off, dumping it on the floor. “If revenge is best served cold, does that mean we have to eat something cold, or can we just do whatever? I don’t wanna ruin this buzz, because I am so worked up and I feel amazing.”

“Jecka, we can eat anything we want.” Nicole even more lazily dumped her cap and gown. “That’s not actually about food.”

“Really? How do you know it’s not?”

“I guess I don’t, but—whatever, we should probably bail before my mom or your parents or half the people we know decide to pester us.” Nicole hummed. “Red Lobster before we pregame?”

“Totally, yeah! They’ve got tons of hot and cold stuff. Literally can’t go wrong.”

“I mean, I agree, but—yeah.” Nicole pivoted and cocked her head towards away from the crowd. “C’mon, seriously, we’re pushing our luck. We can always bask in this glory tomorrow.”

“And every day after that.” Jecka smiled and nodded, matching step with her and shouldering open the gym door into the entirely deserted hallway. “For, I dunno, a few weeks. Maybe a month or two.”

“Until college starts or the media forgets or stops giving a shit like they always do. Either way, getting this framed.” Nicole held up the newspaper with a smile. “First Edition printing!” Her smile vanished because Jeffery was stomping up to them. “Holy shit, we’re done. It’s over. Leave us the fuck alone!”

“Not yet!” snapped Jeffery. “What’s the big idea, huh?!”

“Newsflash, Jeffery can’t tie his fucking shoes or read!” snipped Nicole, smacking the newspaper into his hands. “You should check that prescription if you literally can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the glasses, Nicole,” added Jecka. “I thought we made it very clear with our headline. I always knew you were a ‘dumb’ nerd, but now I’ve got proof.”

“You two ruined everything!” snapped Jeffery, basically flailing. “I was valedictorian, and—and why did you help me write my speech if you were just going to sabotage the whole thing?”

“Timing is everything in both comedy and drama.” Nicole raised a brow and snapped her fingers. “Okay, I know we just called you illiterate, but, dude, did you even read the newspaper?”

“Yes!” Jeffery flapped it in the air. “You’re going to get every single good teacher fired!”

“They’re not good teachers if they all looked the other way on this shit!” snipped Jecka. “Or, did you mean, they never did anything to you? So that must mean they’re good?”

“It’s better than what everybody else did,” grumbled Jeffery. “All you two do is screw everyone over who’s nice to you. Even the teachers! People give you things, bend over backwards to make you happy, and all I ever see is you taking advantage of them! All I ever see is—”

Nicole was going to open her mouth, but Jecka’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Nicole, take a knee.” Jecka pulled Nicole behind her. “Jeffery, whatever fucking high horse you think you’re riding in on, I’m turning it into glue.” She frowned. “You don’t see shit. You think you’re this sensitive nice guy, this misunderstood tragedy, but you are just as horrible as everyone else.”

“Yeah, just because those photos of me didn’t get developed doesn’t mean you didn’t take them,” said Nicole. “You disgusting, repulsive little—”

“I said take a knee, Nicole,” cut in Jecka, eyeing her over her shoulder. “I really meant it.”

“Okay, okay.” Nicole held up her palms. “Your show.”

“Thanks.” Jecka turned back to Jeffery. “Do you remember the girl you asked to go with you to Homecoming Sophomore year?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Jeffery.

“Do you remember? Yes or no?”

“Of—of course I do!”

“What do you remember about her?”

“She had really long strawberry blonde hair and—”

“And what?” asked Jecka, raising her nose. “What else do you remember about her?”

“She—she was really pretty.”

“What about her was pretty, Jeffery?” Jecka’s eyes blazed. “Be specific.”

“Okay, uhm, she had a nice smile, with dimples,” stammered Jeffery, clearly too terrified and confused to think clearly. “She had really nice eyes.”

“What color?”

“Blue?”

“Green. What else?”

“She was really tall, and had, uhm—”

“Say it.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I should—”

“Say it. Now.”

“She was thin and had nice boobs!”

“Correct.” Jecka crossed her arms. “What was her name?”

Jeffery was completely silent. Even his breathing stopped being loud enough to hear. Just frozen there.

“You asked her out, Jeffery. What was her name?”

“It was…” Jeffery started vibrating again. “Sarah?”

“Wrong,” seethed Jecka. “Try again.”

“Rebecca?”

“Nope.”

“Abigail?”

“You have absolutely no clue, do you, Jeffery?” Jecka just stared at him. “You have no idea what her name was. All you saw was a pair of tits and three holes who was maybe slightly nicer to you than everybody else.” She shrugged. “That’s the kind of person she was, but it’s not the kind of person I am.”

“What—what kind of person are you?” asked Jeffery, slowly backing away before Nicole slipped around behind him with a smug smile. “Oh, no.”

“Hey, I’m just the muscle right now.” Nicole smirked. “No clue what’s happening next.”

“I’m the type of bitch who is going to fuck you up for life without getting anyone’s hands dirty.” Jecka grinned, all teeth. “Because you will never remember her name.”

“What?” Jeffery snorted. “Of course I will.”

“No. You won’t.” Jecka scoffed. “Because it was Mary.”

“Oh, so—”

“Or was it Samantha? Holly? Micayla? Claire? Kaylee?” continued Jecka, speaking faster and faster. “Molly? Amanda? Rae? Sydney? Sharon? Zoey? Valerie?”

Nicole watched in an odd sort of awed intimidation as Jecka proceeded to rattle off several hundred names off the top of her head. Faster and faster, no matter how pale Jeffery got, or how he tried to run away, he kept getting stuck there, listening. It wasn’t even for that long, but not once, not a single time did Rachel ever come up.

“Okay, I get it!” snapped Jeffery. “You’ve made your point! Just stop!”

“My point is that you will literally never understand the point.” Jecka backed away. “But that doesn’t mean this won’t haunt you to your deathbed.”

Jeffery ran away, basically tripping over his gown, and scrambled back into the gym, the door slowly closing behind him. Nicole could sort of vaguely hear Principal Lynn still trying to calm down that increasingly angry mob. Good fucking luck.

“That was badass, Jecka. Extremely depressing, yeah, but still badass.” Nicole chuckled. “Is that actually going to do anything?”

“I don’t fucking care, Nicole. I just really wanted to do that. I needed to.” Jecka sighed. “I kinda have a headache now. Can we just leave school forever and never come back?”

“It is my great pleasure to report that, yes, we finally can.” Nicole nodded. “Red Lobster into pregaming can’t start early enough.”

“Honestly? Not feeling it.” Jecka clutched the side of her head. “I’m so tired. Just go have fun without me.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “I’ll catch up later.”

“Nah, I’ll stick around with you until you’re good.” Nicole shrugged. “There’s not really a point in going without you.”

”What? Why not?”

“Bitch, how have you not figured out everything sucks when you’re not around?”

I don’t really believe in ‘happy endings’.

Not for me, and not for anyone else.

It’s not because they’re unrealistic, or because they’re idealistic, or optimistic, or whatever. It’s because they’re so delusional. Oh, yeah, you found a perfectly self-sustainable life in this pile of dogshit we call home—no, you fucking didn’t.

There’s only one way to decide when it’s all over, where our end is, and it’s not happy.

You can fool yourself into thinking your life is full of ‘happy endings’, and I’m sure a ton of people do, and I sort of understand why they would, but I can’t. I’d just always know it was bullshit waiting to fall apart over and over again.

Fuck ‘happy endings’. Fuck ‘endings’.

We’re taught to settle for less. For misery instead of something better. Fuck everybody who says that or thinks that. Fuck basically everybody, because you don’t have to settle for shit. You might not get everything you want, or even half, but that doesn’t mean you should just close your eyes, lie back, and accept none of it!

Lemme back up a little. Or maybe fast forward?

Whatever, we’re jumping around, so strap in.

You ever hear about the ‘two arrows’?

It’s this Buddhist thing about suffering. Shocking, I know. The basic idea is that nobody can avoid the first arrow, but we’ve got enough time to react to the second. Bad shit happens, and then we deal with it.

Simple. Except, shocker, again, no, it’s not. It’s not just about suffering. It’s about how, apparently, suffering is a thing you choose to do, which, okay. I kinda get that.

Except that really only applies if you do deal with your shit, with any of it. Which I wasn’t. I just kept taking arrows into every inch of skin until I was a pin cushion. Because I thought I couldn’t feel anything anymore, so what was the point in moving? It wouldn’t make a difference. And that was kind of true, sort of, for a while. The problem wasn’t exactly that I was wrong, but…

Fine, I was, but there’s more to it.

There’s another part to that idea. When you’ve got that second arrow in you. Do you try to get it out, or do you leave it there because that’s what you know? What you’re familiar with? What if life without it is worse? What if you hurt yourself and everyone around you more? Then number three comes along, and number four, and so on. Pretty quickly it stops being about not dealing with your own bullshit.

Then it’s just about fear, since change is just that fucking terrifying. The only thing scarier than admitting that you need to change, that you want to, is realizing that the only one who can change you is you. It’s easier to keep the arrows inside you, even if you’ll just end up with more scars than skin.

Because, like, why are you changing in the first place? Why do you want to? What’s so horrible and impossible about life, right? A lot of shit. I mean, I’m sure some people want to change to be ‘better’ or ‘nicer’ or some bullshit like that, but it doesn’t actually go hand-in-hand. It’s not a universal experience.

Same with suffering—shit. I’m way ahead of myself.

‘Two arrows’.

Keep it in mind.

Anyway, it took more wheeling and dealing than anything ever had before, and probably ever will, but Jecka and I actually managed to expose the whole damned thing. Yes, actually using the school paper, with some ‘special edition’ crap. People took the paper home, called their friends and family, spread the word, and it took about a day before it landed at an actual newspaper and allllll over the internet.

Mr. Lorre gave us complete editorial control as part of the deal for not turning him in for soliciting on MySpace. Obviously, we did anyway. Put him on page one with his faculty headshot. Dumbass didn’t even check the final version before it got sent to the printers.

We didn’t actually do it alone, as cool as that would’ve been. Half the people we knew pitched in, either with testimony or tips, or whatever. Couldn’t actually steal anything because I guess evidence doesn’t count if you break the law to get it. Makes no fucking sense, I know.

Keeping that kind of secret between that many people wasn’t actually the hard part.

Teenagers will do basically anything if you give them free food.

Emily only took payment in Olive Garden breadsticks, which are fucking horrible. I think she was trying to see if they were actually infinite, but I still can’t figure out why she thought that was worth it.

That wasn’t the craziest part, though. Not even close. We didn’t just find the stuff we thought we would. It was worse. There was some truly wild shit we didn’t even think existed.

Because Principal Lynn was way more wrong than we thought she was: there was a conspiracy. She’d just been looking under the wrong floorboards.

Okay, so, it wasn’t exactly a conspiracy, but enough of it was sorta connected, and enough videos and pictures were just sitting on teacher’s computers that the people under investigation panicked, and threw the guidance counselor under the bus as the ‘mastermind’.

We didn’t even tell them to do that. They just did it. It was amazing. And it also backfired in the best way possible, because the district attorney’s office basically RICO’d the whole fucking thing! Yeah, it was actually so bad that it had to be treated as organized crime.

Nearly the entire faculty was either fired or convicted, since so many of them knew this shit was happening and just didn’t bother trying to help, and it actually made the regional news before it and everything else got buried by Michael Jackson dying a couple weeks later.

Couldn’t have asked for a better way to get kicked into obscurity, honestly. But, by then, the damage was done, because my extremely late college applications looked beyond amazing. Not that I needed to do them, as it turned out.

I had schools trying to court me, popping up like weeds with a hundred letters in the mailbox, a thousand emails, and so many fancy gift baskets that I’m pretty sure I have more lotions and soaps and shit than a hotel. And then they, like, went full wine and dine.

Not literally, tragically, even though I kept asking every rep to buy me alcohol. Arizona State actually did buy me a full bottle of wine to take home, so that was cool of them. Definitely wasn’t going to go there, though. Way too needy and eager to please.

Fuck the desert, anyway, honestly.

Same thing happened to Jecka, obviously, but she kinda already had a ‘golden ticket’, so this was just a bonus for her.

Me, though? For the first time in my life, I could go basically anywhere I wanted. Free ride, including housing and food, for Journalism. I almost went to UCLA or Berkeley. SoCal always sounded like it was calling to me, but Jecka wanted to go somewhere nobody we knew would ever think to look. Where nobody would ever want to follow us.

A real, complete, and total fresh start. Cut my mom and entire extended family out completely and never look back. It sounded perfect. Jecka kind of made it impossible to disagree.

Even if we were broken up at the time.

Yeah, so, here’s the thing. Even though we’re not really ‘high maintenance’ people, relationships still take some maintenance. A lot of it. We fucked that up not once, not twice, but three times before, I think—maybe we got it right this time.

I want to say something inspiring or whatever, some sort of moral about me and Jecka, but I still just keep fucking things up in general.

If you’re waiting for me to tell you that the meds changed me as a person, made me kinder, nicer, made me someone else, well, they didn’t. That’s not how it works. Be pretty fucked up if it did. Best way to describe it would be, I guess, that I felt like I had more options with everything in my life.

If every decision I ever made was multiple choice, then I went from having two things to pick from to having five. That doesn’t mean I’ll make the right call. It doesn’t mean I have a higher chance of doing it, either, or that I even know what the ‘right’ one is, assuming that exists at all. Just means that more things feel possible.

I still push people away. I still rip people apart, but I guess I’m more selective about it. Mostly because I don’t have as much time as I used to just fuck around. None of that’s really going to change. I don’t want it to. Wanting space and for most people to leave me the fuck alone was never a bad thing to fight for.

Kicked the ‘drug problem’, though. Too expensive and honestly half the reasons I was getting fucked up didn’t even exist anymore. That, and once that ‘free ride’ ends, rent isn’t cheap. Neither is food. Or gas. Or internet. Or taxes. Such a bullshit amount of bills, I swear.

Look, the real problem was always the crossfire. If you go scorched earth, you will hurt the people you actually care about. I am basically a human wildfire that shot and ate Smokey the Bear, and Jecka’s really not a fan of spontaneously combusting. But she keeps standing too close, so she keeps getting burned.