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It’s blindingly obvious to everyone around her that she’s incredibly anxious about something, but ignoring the elephant in the room is easier than forcing an answer out of her.
She stumbles through the corridor, trying to make herself as small as possible, which isn’t difficult. She’s not tall, but she’s also not short enough to draw attention to herself. She’s skinny, perhaps unusually so, but not so unusually so that people stop and stare and whisper their concerns for her wellbeing. Her ginger hair is cut into a pixie cut and her blue eyes stare at the floor until she reaches her locker.
Her legs are close together, her knees wobbly, and she literally jumps when the locker next to her swings open ungracefully.
The girl next to her stands on her tip-toes in order to reach the shelf. “Yo, P, wassup?”
“Nothing much,” mumbles Pearl, her voice barely above a whisper. She’s always unusually quiet when she gets like this. It would be the first thing her friends notice, if the shaking didn’t make it obvious enough.
Amethyst raises an eyebrow that’s tinted slightly purple, as a result of her neglecting to take care when she dyes her hair. “You sure? You seem anxious.”
“I’m fine,” insists Pearl shyly.
Normally Amethyst would continue to press, but the tardy bell will probably ring at some point in the next two minutes. She does not care about being late -- she barely cares about showing up to class at all, let alone on time -- but she knows Pearl does, and she seems to be in one of those states where the slightest lateness could set off a domino effect that would end with parents being called and Pearl going home early. “Okay. You still good for Saturday?”
Pearl visibly tenses, and Amethyst privately thinks that that’s a bad sign. But Pearl quickly forces a smile and says, “Of course, I’ll see you then!”
“Cool. You need a lift or anything?”
“Your house is only a short walk away from mine,” answers Pearl, visibly shaking.
“Okay. Well, I’d better head to PE now. See ya!”
Amethyst was never good at addressing the elephant in the room.
She’s excellent at dealing with the elephant once the silence is broken. When someone acknowledges that there is, in fact, an elephant, it’s Amethyst’s job to find some peanuts, lure it outside without it breaking the door, and take it back to the zoo, or somewhere else more appropriate than the living room.
But until someone points out the elephant, it’s like there’s an inpenetrable bubble around whatever the issue is. Amethyst can’t force Pearl to say what’s on her mind. She’d say that she can lead a horse to water but can’t force it to drink, but honestly, she’s not very good at leading it to water, either.
Amethyst’s job is to deal with the problem once it was out in the open. But getting Pearl to admit that something was actually wrong is Garnet’s job.
“Tell me what the problem is.” That’s always the start. Garnet’s confidence forbids her from phrasing it as a question, because there’s no uncertainty in her mind, none of the lingering self-doubt that Amethyst had, the anxiety that maybe Pearl is fine and she’s just being paranoid.
Pearl nudges her tray of food with a fork but makes no attempt to eat it. “I’m fine.”
Amethyst would normally be eating Pearl’s food right now, but something about Pearl’s anxious demeanor discourages her. Amethyst knows that trying to persuade Pearl to admit what she’s worried about is Garnet’s accepted role, but that won’t stop her from trying. “P, you know we won’t judge.”
“Trust me, I’m fine.”
Pearl’s weak attempts at denying the problem fall on deaf ears, and Garnet continues on as though she never said she was fine at all. “We have biology next together. It’ll just be us two. We can talk about it then if you want.”
Pearl knew from the start that any attempt at lying to Garnet was a futile one; the girl seems to almost be able to read minds. Or have future vision. It’s a trait that runs in the family, from her mom’s side. Well, one of them, anyway.
Slowly, shyly, she nods.
Amethyst pouts slightly, a little hurt that they can’t talk about it until the two of them are alone, without her. But she quickly brightens up as she turns to Garnet and says, “So you’re still cool for Saturday, G?”
Garnet merely gives a thumbs up in response.
Pearl is equally silent.
“You’re worried about Saturday.”
It’s not a question, and Pearl nods nervously in between copying diagrams of a human heart. The plan for Saturday is a simple one -- they’ll go to Amethyst’s house, hang out for a few hours, maybe play a few board games, and then go home. It seems like there’s nothing about it that could possibly pose a problem.
But there is.
“Maybe you should tell me what you’re worried about.”
Pearl suddenly becomes very invested in her heart diagram.
“Pearl, you know I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”
Pearl does know this. The fact that she knows she needs to tell Garnet what the problem is isn’t going to stop her from postponing it as much as possible.
“You know, I’m sure Amethyst would understand if you have to cancel.”
Pearl stiffens. “I couldn’t do that!”
“She won’t be upset,” insists Garnet. “You can go to her house another time. It’s clear that it’s causing you a lot of stress right now.”
Pearl’s cheeks flush, and she has to admit that Garnet has a point. It would be the most pathetic reasong for cancelling a plain in the history of the world … but she does not have to say anything specific. She can just say it’s a mental health thing and Amethyst won’t pry. She can get out of Saturday quite easily.
But … She was looking forward to it.
Pearl swallows her fear. She’s going to come clean and work toward a solution, no matter how terrifying it seems right now. She’s going to Amethyst’s house if it’s the last thing she does.
She opens her mouth, looks at Garnet, and closes her mouth.
She wants to say it, she really does, but Garnet’s confidence is always a little intimidating and she can’t seem to find her voice. Finishing her heart diagram, she turns to the back page of her book, the paper already stained with countless half-erased messages, countless relics from previous conversations just like this one.
She starts writing the letter I, and then erases it. She tries the letter I again, and considers erasing it, but decides that Garnet won’t judge her for her handwriting. She tries to decide what letter to write next, and then decides that this is the wrong way to start a sentence and erases the I.
“Pearl.”
“I’m trying,” she says defensively.
She is trying, really. She’s genuinely trying her best. It’s just that her best isn’t very good.
It’s ten minutes of switching between writing and adjusting the details on her diagram that she glances up to check that the teacher isn’t looking. She folds the corner of the page with the diagram, to make sure she can find it later, then slides the book over to Garnet’s desk.
She looks in any direction except Garnet’s. She hates seeing people read what she writes.
Garnet isn’t a fast reader like Pearl is, but she takes a little too long to read a few sentences, and Pearl hesitantly spares a glance over at her. She’s still looking at the book, but she has her phone out and a page is loading. “Research.” she says bluntly, in response to Pearl’s confusion.
Pearl frowns. “Did the note not explain sufficiently… ?”
“Pearl, you can’t sufficiently explain a concept like that in three sentences.”
Garnet … has a point, and Pearl is kind of glad that she’s choosing to research herself rather than asking follow-up questions. As the page is still loading -- the school wi-fi is okay on the computers but it’s barely functional on phones -- Garnet adds, “You know Amethyst won’t mind.”
“I know, I know,” mumbles Pearl, blushing as she takes back her book and flicks back to the heart diagram page. “I just … how do I explain it to her? You’ve seen her at lunch, she eats everything!”
“Amethyst is able to understand that you’re different to her in many ways.”
“I know, but … what do I say?”
“The same thing you said to me,” Garnet deadpans. “You can even tear out the page and show it to her if you like.”
“...I always use that page to write stuff,” mumbles Pearl defensively. “I don’t want to tear it out.”
Garnet elects to ignore this comment. “You have visual art next period.”
Pearl nods. “And you have home ec…”
“With Amethyst, yes. I’ll talk to her if you want.”
Pearl’s cheeks turn a brighter shade of scarlet and her words stumble out of her mouth. “You don’t have to do that, Garnet, really, I can tell her myself, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that, I need to start working on my anxiety anyway, you don’t need to --”
“Okay, it’s decided, then. I’ll talk to Amethyst next period.”
There’s a certain confidence to Garnet that makes it impossible to argue with her; she feels like a brick wall, and none of Pearl’s protests would ever dissuade her. However hesitantly, she nods.
The smell of the cookies wafts out from the oven, and Amethyst gets a cloth to wash the dishes with. She has no intentions of actually washing the dishes; never has, never will. She sits on the bench, an action that would land most students in detention but that she can get away with unnoticed due to her unnaturally short height, and watches as Garnet starts to fill up the sink.
“Pearl wanted me to talk to you.”
Amethyst gets her phone out and starts shuffling through games. “So you got her to admit what was wrong in biology?”
“Mm-hmm.” Most of Amethyst’s peers would have told her to put her phone away now, denounced the game she was playing as evidence that she was ignoring them. Garnet, however, makes no comment; she knows that Amethyst can focus better when she’s doing something with her hands, and it’s not like Garnet has much room to talk, since she’s trying to have a serious conversation while washing the dishes.
“So what’s up with her?” asks Amethyst, trying to seem casual, but her concern for her friend shows through. “Is it about Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s fine if she can’t make it,” says Amethyst.
“She can come,” explains Garnet. “She just needs some … accommodations.”
“Oh, cool.” Amethyst is audibly relieved and she clears a level on the game she’s playing on her phone. “Anything new?”
“You’ll have to talk to her about it, I don’t know all the details. She just wanted me to explain it so she won’t have to.”
“Cool, I’ll text her tonight. What did she want you to explain?”
Garnet places a clean measuring jug on the bench next to the sink. “She has dietary requirements and she's worried you won't have food she can eat.”
Amethyst raises an eyebrow at Pearl’s inability to just tell her something so simple, but shrugs nonetheless. “Okay. So, like, allergies, or … ?”
Garnet hesitates, and considers letting Amethyst think that’s what the issue is; but Pearl asked her to explain it, and she’s going to explain it. Besides, any attempt at pretending it’s about allergies will fall apart once the issue of what foods she can actually eat comes up.
“She has an eating disorder.”
Amethyst very nearly drops her phone into the sink.
“Wait, G, seriously? Holy crap, is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” says Garnet quickly. “She doesn't have body dysmorphia and she eats enough.”
“But you just said --”
“Like I said, dietary requirements. She just has some foods she can’t eat. Well, a lot of foods she can’t eat.” She places another clean measuring jug on the side of the bench. “It’s called Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. There’s a Wikipedia article on my phone.”
“Ugh, Wikipedia.”
“Everything else is blocked at school. You can go on the Simple English version if that’s easier for you.” She pauses. “My hands are wet, I can’t get my phone out.”
Amethyst jumps off the bench and reaches into the pocket of Garnet’s jeans, fishing out her phone. “Uh, what’s the passcode?”
“Seven-eight-two-nine.”
Amethyst types it in and starts reading the page. “Ugh, there’s no Simple English version.”
“It is rather obscure.”
“Yeah, but Wiki sucks. Ugh. Well, I’m gonna try and read this now. I’ll text Pearl tonight.”
“Okay.”
Amethyst is still holding Garnet’s phone, frowning at the convoluted sentence structure and trying to work out the details of what the article is actually trying to say, when she stumbles through the corridors and opens her locker. It’s a miracle that Garnet trusts her enough to be rather lenient with her possessions and they have class together next period, otherwise she would have had to give it back by now.
Between trying to read the article and trying to get her stuff out of her locket, it’s no wonder she lacks the mental energy to give Pearl more than a quick “Hi, P,” even as the skinny girl is anxiously getting her books out of her locker right next to her.
Pearl frowns, wondering if Garnet had any success at all. But a second later Garnet meets them in the hallway as they’re closing their lockers; Amethyst is still busy with the article, but Garnet gives her a thumbs up.
Pearl’s heart pounds.
She internally berates herself for being so paranoid -- for not trusting her friends to be understanding and compassionate. Why wouldn’t they be? They’re understanding and compassionate about everything else. Garnet and Amethyst have accepted Pearl for habits that made her a target of bullies within days of starting high school. Did she really think they would judge her for a silly thing like that?
She did. She really did think that. But now she knows better.
The population of the high school will continue their typical teenage drama ways, their routine back-stabbing and gossiping and having “mental health awareness days” where they talk about how important it is to be nice to mentally ill people in between shaming and rejecting anyone who shows symptoms of a mental illness. They’ll continue making Pearl’s life difficult.
But Garnet and Amethyst will continue making Pearl’s life easier. Their friendship will prevail, outlasting the rumours and the gossip and the drama, until it outlasts high school itself.
They’ll accept her.
No matter what.