Chapter Text
Janis scrolled through Twitter as Damian pulled over to the curb, gravel crunching underneath the tires. She could hear the music from party outside, the bass thumping through the open door and windows.
"I can't believe it, she said she was going to be out of down this weekend," she complained, as Damian looked out the window. <
"Maybe it's not even Cady's party?" He questioned hopefully, as they both watched a few tipsy partygoers stumble out into the yard.
“Damian, this is literally her house. Besides, haven't you seen Twitter lately? Everyone's talking about how 'amazing' the new girl's party is," Janis snapped back, annoyance starting to creep into her voice.
They sat like that for a few moments, listening to the incessant noise of the party before Damian spoke again, “well, at least your gallery was cool.”
Janis momentarily stopped tapping her way through the Snapchat stories filled with videos of high schoolers shot gunning their dads’ beers, “what?”
“I said at least your art was cool, that’s something good, right?”
“Oh yeah, I guess,” she sighed, toying with her necklace, deciding not to bring up the fact that only Damian had come with.
— — —
“So, are we going in?”
“Should we? I feel like she’s bound to come outside and throw up in a bush or something,” Janis quipped, giving a dry laugh.
And if as on cue, Cady appeared in the doorway, as Aaron headed past them to his car, letterman jacket in hand as he slammed his door shut and sped off.
Janis leaned out the window, her voice carrying across the lawn, "so Cady, tell us, how does it feel to be a dirty little liar?"
Cady scanned the driveway, looking for the sound of Janis's voice. When she spotted Damian's car she headed towards them, stumbling in her high heels. "Janis, I can explain, I jus-"
"You're just what? Having an amazing time with all of your amazing friends?” Janis sneered, pulling her jacket around her tighter.
"It's not my fault I couldn't invite you, you're the one that told me to act like I don't know you," Cady reasoned, crossing her arms over her chest.
“There’s a big difference between acting like a Plastic and being plastic,” Janis argued, her voice growing colder, “you know what you are Cady? Plastic. Real cold hard plastic."
"Janis, I can’t spend every second with you!”
“And I’m not asking you too! You could’ve at least invited your real friends to your party!’
“No, god Janis, just forget about it!” Cady cried, attracting stares from the partygoers outside.
“Oh, I get it, we’re not even your real friends anymore,” Janis bit back, her voice seething with sarcasm, “did you hear that Damian? Cady’s abandoning us so she can be the next Regina lookalike, does’t that just sound so fucking fun?”
Cady pulled at her her hair before she spoke, pulling a few strands loose from her high ponytail, “honestly Janis, it’s not my fault you’re like in love with me or something!”
“What the hell Cady?” Janis sat stunned, because all of a sudden she’s back in eighth grade all over again, and she’s scrubbing “dyke” off of her locker, and she’s standing in front of her mom on the phone, and she’s eating lunch alone, and she’s crying herself to sleep and she’s—she’s here, sitting in Damian’s car, yelling at someone who she thought was her friend and trying to figure out where it all went wrong.
“Whatever," she snapped, tossing her painting at Cady, "here, you can have it, it won a prize. "
"Wait, I-“
Janis rolled up her window and bite her lip hard, the taste of blood and red wine from the art gallery filling her mouth.
"I want my pink shirt back," Damian complained softly, watching as Cady stood on the curb, painting in hand.
"Can we just go? Please."
As they sped away, Janis listened as the music from the party faded away, replaced by Damian's rambling, normally a comfort to her, but not this time.
"Did I tell you what happened in rehearsal on Thursday? Jack Evans dropped one of the props and..."
— — —
Damian's talking faded into background noise as Janis replayed the conversation in her head.
Was she really as bad as the Plastics? She had forced Cady to act like a Plastic to get revenge for something that had happened to her in eighth grade. The more she thought about it, the worse it seemed. Cady was so close to them now, it would be so easy for her tell them everything Janis had spilled to her.
And then what? Janis couldn't even think about what would happen. She had lived through hell in eighth grade, but junior year was already a different story. She dug her nails into her palms, trying to fight the panic that rose in her throat.
— — —
"...and then after he forgot his lines and came late-“
"Pull over," Janis interrupted.
"What?"
"I said pull over."
“Wait, what? Why?”
— — —
Janis found herself throwing up a glass of red wine and half of a hot pocket in a Taco Bell parking lot. It sucked.
Her eyes watered as she blinked back tears, her throat burning with the taste of cheap wine and regret.
"Shit Jan, are you okay?" Damian asked, as she shut the door, wiping her mouth with the back of her palm.
She pulled her hair out of her face, grimacing at the strands sticky with vomit, "I'm fine."
“You sure?"
“I just, I..” she sighed, suddenly exhausted, “I just want to go home.”
"Yeah, alright, home we can do,” Damian shot her a worried look, but didn’t push any further; he just turned up the radio and drove her home.
— — —
Janis unlocked the door with the key from the mailbox, went upstairs, and fell asleep on top of her bed, fully clothed.
She woke up in the morning with a lingering aftertaste of vomit in her mouth and the need to changes things, for better or worse.
Most likely worse.