Chapter Text
Viola stares at the two women standing in front of her. She rests on Helen for entirely too long, before cooly sliding over to Madeline. The silence in the office is suffocating – they have no idea how long they’ve been standing there waiting for Viola to say something to them, but it feels like it’s been an eternity.
(Helen would later note it was a solid three minutes.)
Just as Helen opens her mouth to say something, whether it be an apology or an explanation, Madeline does the same.
“I–”
“It’s–”
They both snap their mouths shut again. Viola raises her eyebrows, regarding both of them.
“No, please, let me,” she says, leaning forward in her chair. She folds her hands on the desk in front of her and Helen thinks it might be to keep her from throwing something. “What happened tonight has never, not once, happened in the history of this school’s existence.”
Madeline clears her throat. “Sounds like we did something groundbreaking,” she says, choking on a laugh she didn’t intend to be heard. Helen watches the way Viola slowly cocks her head and regards Madeline, and wishes the floor would swallow her up.
“What on Earth were you two possibly thinking?” she asks, looking at either woman for an explanation. Her attention keeps coming back to Helen, as if silently trying to ask the woman how could you let this happen?
Madeline sighs, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “I thought it would be fun!”
Viola narrows her eyes again. “Do I look like I’m having fun, Ms. Ashton?”
“No, but when do you ever?”
A chorus of shut up shut up shut up plays in Helen’s head, and her anger with the woman standing next to her flares again. This isn’t a situation she’s ever found herself in – she doesn’t break the rules, or cause problems, or do literally anything she isn’t supposed to do.
“We are so unbelievably sorry, Principal Van Horn,” Helen starts. She seriously debates getting on her knees and begging for forgiveness, but Madeline might enjoy that just a little too much. “We absolutely understand the seriousness of the situation and the potential danger we put people in. We won’t do anything like that again.”
Viola raises an eyebrow. “Both of you?”
She and Helen swivel their heads toward Madeline at the same time. The blonde has the decency to look somewhat ashamed, but her lips purse in irritation more than anything else.
“Yes,” she says finally, “both of us.” Madeline squirms under Helen and Viola’s twin glares before adding, with a dramatic sigh, “Both of us will make sure nothing like this happens again.”
For a moment, Helen worries Viola is about to rip into them again, but their boss simply sits back in her chair, clasped hands landing on her lap. “Good. I hope for both of your sakes that that’s the truth.” She turns her attention to a stack of papers on her desk, absentmindedly rifling through them. Madeline and Helen continue to stand in the awkward silence, unsure of what the other woman will do or say next. After a few uncomfortable seconds, Viola looks back up at them.
“Why are you still here?”
Both women mutter something that sounds like another apology before retreating out of the office, tails between their legs. The walk out to the parking lot is quiet, save for the periodic squishing sound of Helen’s wet shoes. Anger still swirls in her belly, but now it mingles with a desperate frustration, which isn’t helped by Madeline’s apparent blasé attitude.
“Well. That was fun,” Madeline says. They step out into the pleasant September air, but move no further. “Overall, I think we did a pretty good job.”
Helen scoffs. “Oh, you do? That makes one of us.” She turns to face Madeline, bringing her hands to her temples. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“Exactly what I told Viola: I thought it would be interesting.”
Helen shakes her head in disbelief. “And sneaking it by me when we’re supposed to be working together added to that interest?”
“We were supposed to be working together?” Madeline asks with faux surprise. “You could have fooled me!”
“I thought we were, but your little stunt–”
“We weren’t.”
“Weren’t what?”
“Working together. We weren't. You ignored my ideas. You didn’t give any weight to anything I suggested. You didn’t listen to anything I said.” Her voice cracks on the last word, but is then glued back together just as quickly as it broke. The display of emotion causes something to burn in Helen’s chest, but she’s in too deep to stop.
“Maybe if you didn’t suggest things that were idiotic and unrealistic–”
“Oh, and of course you would be the authority on unrealistic. God forbid Helen Sharp ever risk being less than perfectly, adequately normal.”
“Since when is it a bad thing to act appropriately? Although, I’m probably asking the wrong person, since I don’t think you’ve ever done that once in your entire life.”
“Some would say that adds to my star quality.”
“And some would say it makes you desperate for attention.”
“Mm, because nothing says ‘desperate’ like enjoying attention that is willingly given.”
“Please, nothing is given, it’s taken. You take everything.” She realizes too late that the argument has spiraled into something bigger than a work assignment. Though unintentional, she’s once again shown a vulnerability she’d rather keep hidden, and like a shark, Madeline zeroes in on her bleeding wound, poised for the kill. Her lips curl into a snarl.
“Oh, honey. I’d hardly call it ‘taking.’ Nobody wants someone fresh off a trip to the loony bin.”
When the retort lands, it stings like she’s been slapped. Helen recoils on instinct, feeling the promise of tears behind her eyes. Any hope of volleying back an equally painful jab is gone before Helen can even think of something to say. “Fuck you,” she spits, before turning on her heels and nearly running in the direction of her car.
A satisfied smile appears on Madeline’s face, but it slips away just as suddenly. Something heavy settles in the pit of her stomach and she can’t stay still. In somewhat of a daze, she crosses her arms over her chest and makes her way to her own vehicle.
Didn’t winning used to feel better than this?
The legend of Madeline Ashton and Helen Sharp’s feud is irritatingly pedestrian. Like many matters of the heart, it started with a tug of war between two friends, and a painfully ordinary man in the middle. Enter stage right: Ernest Menville.
When Helen first starts teaching, she notices him almost immediately. She spots him one day as she’s walking into the teacher’s lounge – her eyes survey the room and find him by himself at a table off in the corner. There he sits, making paper footballs and launching them into a goal post made of small cups of coffee creamer, and she thinks oh, I’m in love.
She sits the furthest she can from him that day, too nervous to make an introduction, but that doesn’t last long. Weeks pass and she slowly moves closer, table by couch by table, until she’s sitting directly in his line of sight. He looks up from slurping a bowl of instant ramen and catches her eyes, limp noodles hanging halfway out of his mouth. Helen waves demurely, more out of apprehension than seduction, and he smiles back at her, his mouth still full. She giggles at this, for some reason, and he gestures to the seat across from him like he’s Prince Charming slipping a lost shoe onto her foot.
It starts slow at first, with Helen afraid to ruin whatever tentative relationship they could have and Ernest unsure of how to act normally in front of a human woman, but eventually, meeting there and sitting together becomes a ritual. She learns that he teaches Spanish, somehow, and actually has an interest in literature (allegedly). Then, the meetings move outside work – the bright fluorescent lights are replaced with soft candlelight and the surface small talk deepens into something that could actually become real. She doesn’t lean too far into the hope, too used to things not working out in her favor, but Helen can tell she’s falling for him, and he just might be feeling the same.
This is where there should be a step forward. An official relationship with an official label, perhaps, or an explicit acknowledgement of their feelings. But the budding romance is ripped out of Helen’s hands before she can even get a grip on it.
Enter stage left: Madeline Ashton.
Helen didn’t think much of it when Madeline managed to land the job. Part of her thought it might be kind of fun to work with her, considering how close they used to be. For all intents and purposes, they were best friends – it couldn’t possibly be that bad working together.
For as smart as she is, Helen really should have known better.
The week before school starts in Madeline’s first year, Helen takes her exploring around the campus. She shows her all of the important spots (the best bathroom to use, her favorite hidden area in the back of the library, the outside corridor where a group of kids always seems to be smoking weed so she should definitely avoid it) while their colleagues flit around on their own quests.
It’s on their way back to Helen’s classroom that they encounter a few of the foreign language teachers chatting in the hallway. Among them is Ernest, back turned, animatedly getting to the climax of a story he’s telling the French teacher, Madame Dubois. The group laughs, and without thinking, Helen heads toward them. As the small group disperses she gets Ernest’s attention with a soft touch at his elbow, which Madeline notices immediately, her fingers twitching at her sides.
“Mad,” Helen starts, something soft in her voice that makes Madeline nauseous, “this is Ernest Menville.”
As Ernest turns, finally getting a proper look at Madeline, it suddenly feels like time stops. His brain short circuits, apparently, and he ends up staring at the other woman like a deer caught in the headlights.
Cute, Madeline thinks, I can work with that.
“Buenos días, señora,” he says, taking Madeline’s hand but forgetting to shake it. His thumb glides across her knuckles on instinct before he realizes what he’s doing and quickly pulls his hand back.
“Spanish? Oh, I just love Spanish,” Madeline lies, looking up at Ernest through her lashes. “It’s one of the romance languages, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes,” Ernest stammers, “it’s, ah, it’s always been a, uh, favorite of mine.”
Madeline hums. Then, with a flip of her hair and a wink, says, “It is beautiful, but I have other languages I like to use to speak romance.”
Ernest visibly gulps, and in that moment, Helen realizes what she’s done. Her stomach drops as Ernest seems to forget her existence, fully taken in by Madeline’s spell.
So, that’s how that starts.
That first year, resentment grows as Helen watches the pair appear to fall in love. They’re cooed over by students and faculty alike, with everybody who is familiar with the couple thinking it just so darling that they happened to find each other and find love. One day, a bouquet of varying shades of pink is delivered to the theater during one of Madeline’s classes, and Helen has to hear her students gushing over it for the rest of the month. It wears on her, not only seeing both of them so happy together, but imagining what it would have been like if for once it had been her.
She folds into herself after that, becoming an enigma that people at the school know exists, but never see. There are days where she spends the entire day in her classroom, only emerging once the final bell has rung and the school clears out.The relationship between Madeline and Ernest fizzles out after its second year, but the fire burning in Helen’s chest rages on, the embers left smoldering still to this day. That first summer, she vows to herself to never let Madeline hurt her like that again – if that means ending their friendship, so be it.
Thus, the walls began to talk. The faculty whispered to each other during staff meetings. Seniors told the story to juniors who told it to sophomores who made sure incoming freshmen knew the lore from day one. Suddenly, Helen would feel eyes on her wherever she went, only reinforcing her desire to keep her head down and do her job. Madeline kept her distance, assuming that Helen would get over it eventually because he was just a man and it’s always just men so who cares? But that day would never come, and the wedge between them would continue to grow and change into something uglier than it ever had been. The outright animosity was the new normal, and everybody knew to stay out of the middle of whatever went on between them.
Ernest either doesn’t realize the damage he caused, or doesn’t care. After the brief heartbreak that comes from fumbling Madeline Ashton, he continues on as he was before, like nothing happened. Only Helen and Madeline are changed – their friendship irrevocably fractured and neither one wanting to glue the pieces back together.
After the parking lot argument, they don’t speak to each other for weeks. Luckily, with homecoming just around the corner, they don’t actually need to – apparently, there’s another pair of poor unfortunate souls to handle all of those festivities.
Unfortunately for Helen, out of sight does not mean out of mind. She replays the fight over and over in her head, obsessing over what she should have said or done. She’s never been able to stand up for herself the way Madeline can. The blonde fights with her claws out and teeth bared; Helen always manages a bite, but it never lands the same way as her bark. She often wonders if that’s why Madeline was drawn to her from the beginning, if she found herself the perfect punching bag as a teenager and never felt the need to upgrade the model.
A cool October breeze hits Helen as she approaches the main building, and she pulls her coat tighter around her body. The hallways are drowned in purple and silver decorations, school spirit oozing out of every crack and infiltrating every crevice. The kids are a nightmare during homecoming week; they’re hyped up on the invigorating feeling of teen spirit and being young and it’s like trying to teach a class of caged monkeys.
Despite that, Helen has a fondness for it anyway. These things make the school feel more unified, even briefly, and sometimes the antics are fun to watch – though she doesn’t ever participate.
On a Friday afternoon, the entire school gathers in the gymnasium. The pep rally is a traditional homecoming week event, and the students are almost vibrating with excitement and anticipation. They file into the bleachers, each teacher trying to direct their class in the least chaotic way possible, Helen right along with them. When her kids are seated, she makes her way to the side of the gym floor where the other teachers are gathered, talking amongst each other. She finds Stefan easily and quickly situates herself by his side.
“You okay?” he asks, scanning her face. Helen had told him about the argument, and he’d check in with her periodically to make sure she wasn’t dwelling. (She was, but that was her business.) A short nod and soft smile from Helen seem to satisfy him, for the time being, and he pats her arm comfortingly. Just then, Helen spots a flash of blonde out of the corner of her eye. Oh god, she thinks, please not this.
Sure enough, Madeline sidles up to Stefan’s other side. Her attempt at nonchalance is noted, but of course both he and Helen immediately turn and stare. Madeline looks behind her, feigning like she’s checking for someone else to be there, then raises a single eyebrow, challenging them to speak.
“What, did someone claim this particular piece of hardwood floor?”
“Would it matter if they did?” Helen interjects. The response is involuntary and she nearly clasps her hand over her mouth at the inside thought making its way out. Luckily, or unluckily, Ernest happens to walk by before Madeline can respond.
“Hola, ladies!” he says, oblivious to the psychological warfare unfolding in front of him. Helen and Madeline can only glare in return, which makes Ernest uncomfortable enough to stop any thought of trying to engage in conversation in its tracks.
Once all of the students are settled, Viola steps to the center of the gym. “Hello, Hayes High School stallions! Are you ready to show some spirit?”
The kids scream bloody murder. Helen leans back against the gym wall, her mind wandering as Viola introduces a performance by the school’s orchestra. She’s not used to not doing a good job – she’s always done everything right, made sure she followed all instructions, and never acted out. But one project with Madeline and she’s being sent to the principal’s office and scolded like a child. It doesn’t matter what she does, Madeline always finds a way to ruin anything she tries to build. As the music stops, cheerleaders run into the gym, pom poms waving wildly. The building nearly shakes with how loud the students scream during the cheers and dance routines, and Helen winces at the sound.
She slips back into her thoughts as Viola announces what’s next. There’s always some kind of activity for faculty to join in on, and this year is no exception. They tend to rotate through the same few activities every couple of years – this year’s is a three-legged race. Typically, there are plenty of teachers willing to humiliate themselves in front of their students for fun, but Helen vaguely hears Viola mention that volunteers were in short supply this year. One by one, she calls out the pairs of teachers to raucous applause from the bleachers.
“Ms. Sharp and Ms. Ashton!”
Hearing her own name is jarring enough to jolt Helen out of her thoughts. As the students cheer, she chokes on her own saliva. Madeline laughs outloud, though the sound is humorless and more out of disbelief.
“You’re fucking joking,” she mumbles to herself. She still has not looked in Helen’s direction, but she doesn’t need to, to know that she doesn’t want to do this just as much as her. Somehow they manage to move their bodies and head toward the other participants. They reach the middle of the gym floor where Viola is standing and Helen leans in to whisper in her ear.
“Do we have to?” she asks. She cringes at the childlike whine that comes out of her, but there are just some things that automatically activate her fight or flight response, and the prospect of being literally tied to the woman she can’t seem to escape no matter how hard she tries while in front of the whole school is unfortunately one of them.
Viola takes a moment to look at Helen, assessing her for something, before simply responding, “Yes.” Without hesitation, she hands Madeline the purple ribbon meant to tie them together and turns back to the crowd. “Alright, let’s have some fun!”
Grumbling, the women trudge over to where the other pairs are setting themselves up. Once at the starting line, Madeline hands the ribbon to Helen, who gives her a questioning look.
She sighs. “Well I’m not going to do it.”
Helen rolls her eyes, but kneels down to secure their legs together – her left, and Madeline’s right. As she does, she listens to Viola explain their course. Across the gym floor and back, and then she can go back to trying to pretend Madeline doesn’t exist. Ernest is a few couples down, paired with a biology teacher, and shoots both of them a thumbs up when he catches their attention.
She knows, logically, that being tied to another person means that you will have to touch them, but as she stands, she’s startled to notice how close her and Madeline’s hips are pressed together. Neither one of them knows what to do with the hands trapped between them, but they try to find something that won’t send them topping over immediately anyway. Finally overcome with frustration, Madeline sighs.
“Just give me your hand.”
And for some reason, Helen does. They hold their clasped hands like they’re taking a bow, and in a way Helen’s sure this will be the performance of a lifetime.
“Now,” Viola says into the microphone with a dramatic pause, “on your marks, get set, go!”
There’s a flurry of movement as both Madeline and Helen try to step forward with their right legs. Helen stumbles, nearly falling over, and glares at Madeline.
“You can’t just go,” she says through clenched teeth, “you’re going to kill me.”
Madeline scoffs. “If only.” But she refrains from moving until Helen gets her bearings. They try again to move across the floor, Helen attempting to lead.
“Okay, step with your left leg.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“If you paid attention to anybody but yourself I wouldn’t have to.”
“I am paying attention, you just move like someone who doesn’t have working joints.”
Despite their bickering and the students’ screaming, they manage to make it completely across. Before heading back the other way, Helen glances around at their competition. Up to this point they’d been solidly last, but she realizes that their colleagues are starting to falter. They’re not moving nearly as well as before, and Helen has the briefest thought that if they can just get it together, they could potentially win this. Madeline looks around as well, seemingly coming to the same conclusion.
“Look at me,” she says, and Madeline, for once in her life, listens. When their eyes meet, something shifts between them. “I think we can do this, but I can’t do it without you.”
Madeline nods, then bites her lip. Helen really did not expect her to be so willing, but stifles her surprise enough to nod in return. She’s about to offer a plan, but Madeline speaks first. “I think we just need a rhythm – when I say ‘in,’ step with your left leg, and when I say ‘out,’ step with your right.” Helen doesn’t fully buy into it, and Madeline subconsciously squeezes her hand in reassurance. “Trust me. I won’t let you fall.”
It’s so reminiscent of their past lives as friends that Helen almost flinches away. She doesn’t, though, only nods again and readies herself to start moving. They start slow, Helen trying hard to match Madeline’s speed, but then they fall into sync. Madeline chants “in” and “out” like a human metronome, and to Helen’s shock, they start making progress back to the side they started on. She looks down at their feet and tries to focus on the sound of Madeline’s voice with its consistent rhythm, but out of the corner of her eye she sees them start to overtake their competition. One by one, they pass the other pairs of teachers, and the students roar with glee at the sudden switch up.
Before she knows it, they’re back where they started, and the yelling in the gym is deafening. Helen doesn’t really know what’s going on until she hears Viola on the microphone.
“It looks like our winners are Ms. Sharp and Ms. Ashton!”
Again, the teens are screaming as teens are known to do, but Helen barely notices. She didn’t think they’d ever be able to be in any kind of harmony ever again, but somehow in this silly spectacle they managed to find a way to work together. Before she can think about it any more, Madeline drops her hand, bends down to untie the ribbon, and steps as far away from Helen as she reasonably can with the other teachers all standing around them. Her heart sinks, and the sudden realization of how many people are looking at her causes her to self-consciously cross her arms over her chest.
As Viola closes out the pep rally, Helen slips out of the gym and into an empty hallway. She rests her head against the cold metal of a row of lockers and breathes deeply, her hand finding its way to her necklace. She doesn’t know what just happened, but she does know that the weight that’s been sitting on her chest for the last few weeks suddenly feels a little bit lighter.
She’s just not sure what to do with that.