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The second day of aptitude class rolls around, and Maeve makes a point in their discussion. It’s only one, but it’s something.
She gets on the quiz bowl team and turns out to know a surprisingly large amount, so she gains a grudging kind of respect. Like they’ll all go their own separate ways but at least now, the kids in the class believe she deserves to be there for some reason.
That she has something to say, even if she rarely ever says it.
Ms. Stands assigns an essay reflecting on family, growth, and identity.
It’s kind of an open-ended prompt, honestly, and Maeve would’ve spent more time reflecting on that if she hadn’t already had so much to say.
Maeve goes straight home after school, sits at her dining room table, and writes and writes and writes.
She writes about women.
She writes about the women in the abortion clinic with her, the women at school. She writes about Ms. Stands and Aimee and the lady who rents the caravanss out and goddamn fucking Erin. She writes about Elsie. She writes about the woman who told her being catcalled was her fault and that she should’ve worn longer shorts. She writes about the women crammed into the back of the bus with Aimee.
This time, they really do have to read the essays out loud. It’s been two months since Maeve let Ms. Stands read the first bit of her horrible “dreams” essay and committed to staying in the class.
Maeve wants this, Maeve wants to have a future. She stands and reads in a shaky voice.
By the time she is done, there is something new in the air. Cock biter is someone else.
Maeve lowers her paper slightly as she looks up. She stands in the center of the room.
Everyone is quiet. This is a vigil. Cock biter will never enter this room again.
Ms. Stands wipes the tears from the sides of her face.
Maeve tries not to think about money. She’s not speaking to Otis after what he said at the party, so the sex clinic has been off for 2 or 3 months now. She can’t go back to writing other people’s essays.
In the aptitude program, Maeve writes things she wants to everyday, for homework, for credit. It feels like she is finally getting somewhere.
She’s been doing odd jobs, regular things like mowing lawns and walking kids home, but also some weird things, like dropping packages off at the post office and looking for missing earrings. Whatever pays the bills, she thinks. If these people want to pay her to find their dog’s leash, more power to her.
But despite what she tries to tell herself, the money’s even tighter than before. If selling essays and running an underground sex clinic weren’t regular income, odd jobs definitely aren’t.
Not to mention that Maeve is actually being challenged in school now. She leaves class with her head spinning with ideas for their next assignments. The books she checks out from the library are actually ones she’s never read before, research and memoir recommendations from Ms. Stands and even some of the other kids.
All of it means less time for making ends meet.
Maeve goes without breakfast more, shows up to food kitchens with her jaw clenched because this is the only way she can survive and not go back to cheating and stealing.
The old homeless men in the line leer at her and call her a slag. The ladies behind the counter glare at her, whisper not-so-quietly about why a young girl like her is here.
Where before Maeve would’ve flipped the bird, screamed, or kneed a man in the groin, now she reminds herself she’s trying to turn her life around and grits her teeth so hard they squeak.
She’s trying to keep it together, but a voice in the back of her head is steadily growing louder. She’s beginning to think she’s just not the type of person that was ever meant to survive without cheating and stealing.
Maeve’s essay wins a contest, and with it, $1000 dollars. A very lucky break. She can now pay off months of missed payments and actually afford a new can of gas.
She’s sent a whole packet with lists of programs for her to apply to, contests to enter, and classes to take.
She furrows her brow at it for a second. Then she shoves it under a stack of bills. A stack of bills that will now be paid.
Days later, Ms. Stands stops her after class to tell her that her essay has been selected as a contender in a highly selective national competition.
Okay, really, Moordale was allowed to nominate one student for entrance, and technically, Ms. Stands was supposed to ask Maeve for her permission before submitting her essay, but it’s done now. What Maeve doesn’t know won’t hurt her, Ms. Stands thinks.
If Maeve wins, she’ll be eligible for lifelong benefits, including participation in night classes and workshops for high schoolers. Even though the program is national, it has locations everywhere, including one nearby. Being chosen also comes with a stipend.
Maeve nods her head once, firmly. Okay.
Like always, Ms. Stands seems concerned, like she wants to say more, like she thinks Maeve should be a little more excited about this.
When it becomes clear that Maeve has nothing else to say, Ms. Stands says, “Oh well... okay then Maeve. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”
“Great.” Maeve says politely.
She walks briskly away. She doesn’t get her hopes up. There’s no way she’s going to win a “highly selective,” “national” contest.
But this alone is something. Just having been a contender is something.
Maeve’s lips twist into a small smile. Secretly, she still thinks of the house with the big windows. She is starting to get used to the thought that she may actually have a chance at it, if she works hard and things go to plan and her family can hold it together for just a couple more years.
She sighs, not unhappily. It will be enough for her if she can manage to have that.
Isaac comes over to her caravan later that week and snoops around the living area rather obnoxiously while she makes coffee for them.
He sees her stack of bills and is halfway through a sentence making fun of her for being broke, Maeve herself poised to give a faux annoyed comeback with a smile dancing at the corner of her lips.
Isaac’s sentence falls away as he flips to another letter.
“What’s this? Commend you for your work… admirable achievement… blah blah blah… highly encourage you to look into some of the programs listed below--”
Maeve turns to him from her place at the stove. She looks away for a second as she says, casually, “I won this essay thing at school, so now they’re sending me a bunch of stuff.”
Isaac isn’t really listening. He gets to the last paragraph and drops the letter.
“ A thousand dollars?!” he screeches. “Maeve, what?”
His chair does a harrowing turn, nearly knocking over a vase and a short stack of books in the small space, and speeds into the kitchen. He needles.
“So you’re like a writer now, huh? Basically famous? Where’s this essay of yours, I wanna read it. Must be really good if the government’s paying you to write it.”
“Something like that,” Maeve says, attempting to suppress her grin.
“You’d better remember me when you’re famous.” Isaac immediately adopts a dramatic tone. “Oh, the poor handicapped boy next door! His tragic and brave story! He was only a small child when he ran back into the inferno that enveloped his house, all to rescue his helpless pet puppy. And now he’s injured for life. Such a heroic act. He was my inspiration,” he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, “The reason I write!”
Maeve’s full on grinning now, rolling her eyes. She shoves him. “Dickhead.”
Steve finds out because he hangs out in those quiz-bowl, smart kids circles, and he whoops the next time he sees her.
“Woo hoo Maeve, let’s go!” He gives her a high five. “Did you hear Maeve won a contest?” He asks Aimee, walking next to him.
“You won a contest?” Aimee asks, eyes wide, “Wow, Maeve! That’s so great! You’re like a total poet now.”
Aimee doesn’t have any idea what she’s talking about (Maeve’s piece wasn’t even about poetry, much less a poem itself), but damn it if she isn’t thrilled for Maeve anyway. Maeve ducks her head and bites back a smile. When she looks up, Otis Milburn is a few paces away from them.
Aimee opens her mouth and Steve quickly says, “see you Maeve!” and janks Aimee away.
Maeve scowls. Otis opens his mouth. Then he sighs and closes it.
“Hey Maeve,” he says ruefully, nodding formally like some sort of agreement has been made between the two of them. He steps by her and continues to his locker.
Maeve’s eyes narrow. She hoists her bag higher and stomps to her next class.
Isaac and Maeve are watching jeopardy together a few days later. Maeve, of course, knows all the answers, while Isaac is confidently shouting out wrong answers to each question, then insisting the hosts are mistaken when they reveal the correct answer.
“You’re an asshat,” Maeve says.
“Asshats are totally your type.”
Maeve’s face stills for a moment. “Hey-- Isaac? You know…” she starts, “you know you’re not actually my type, right?”
Isaac sobers. “Yeah Maeve, I know. I know we’re better as friends.”
They’re quiet for a moment, the TV chattering dimly in the background.
Maeve pokes him. “You forgot to complain at that one.”
“Oh right--” his voice switches to a bellow-- “who are these people? Imbeciles! Hungary is nowhere near there! Canada was totally right!”
Maeve’s lips twist.
Otis is leaving the drug store when he sees Isaac rolling down the sidewalk.
Against his will, Otis calls out, “Isaac!”
“You,” Isaac scowls, putting his head down like he wants to get past.
Otis desperately wants to ask about Maeve, so instead he blurts, “Wait! I’m not going to ask about Maeve. I just-- I just wanted to say-- I never apologized for before. Properly. To you, I mean.”
He starts rambling, the guilt spilling out of him. “I don’t drink that much and, apparently alcoholism runs in my family, along with a whole load of other bullshit my dad keeps doing and-- it was a real shitty thing for me to do. That whole party. And I wanted to say, again, I’m very sorry, and I’m working to make sure that never happens again. I do care about Maeve a lot, and I treated her poorly, and I’m glad you’re taking care of her now. Thanks for passing along my message. I don’t think she ever wants to talk to me again-- which is understandable, really-- so I’m going to keep leaving her alone. Anyway, I just wanted to say sorry, and thanks again. I’ll be out of your hair now.”
“Uhh, okay. Great.”
Otis nods, “Okay. See you around then,” and then he’s gone.
Shit, Isaac thinks.
“Hey Maeve?” Isaac says.
“Yeah, dickwad?”
“You ever talk to that drunk kid from that party we went to that one time? The one who--”
“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know what he did,” Maeve interrupts suddenly. “And he,” she turns her eyes up to the ceiling, eyes shining, “he never apologized for that, can you believe it? I thought he would, but he never called, never came by, and I saw him at school the other day and--”
“Oh Maeve.”
Her voice breaks, tears falling from her eyes. “--and he just said, hey Maeve, and walked away.”
She pauses. “I just-- I really liked him okay? I don’t know wh- what I did wrong, but I always mess everything up, don’t I? I just don’t understand, this time he messed it up, it was his turn to apologise, and he just-- left me--” she gasps out.
“I’m so sorry Maeve.”
She wipes the tears from her eyes angrily. “Not your fault. Not the first time this is happened to me anyways, won’t be the last.”
“No… Maeve… “
Maeve narrows her eyes, turning to him. “What?”
“I did something. Involving Otis.”
He tells her what he did.
He was angry at everyone for always leaving Maeve and treating her like shit. Her mom had just told her she’d never forgive her, and now this drunk kid who called her names in front of all of her classmates was showing up at her caravan, saying he wanted to apologize?
Isaac explains how he didn’t want her to have to make this decision again, to trust this kid and then let him betray her, again. He explains how he thought that piece of shit boys never change.
And then he saw Otis outside the drugstore the other day. Then he realized that Otis was never a piece of shit to begin with, that that incident was really just a one-time thing in the life of a genuinely good and caring kid who momentarily fell victim to the bad things and bad people in his life.
He doesn’t tell her that he now sees that it was wrong for him to delete that message regardless of how bad of a person Otis was, and that he now knows it should’ve been her choice to make. She doesn’t want to be hearing an explanation from him now, and honestly, does he even deserve to give one? After all the damage he’s done, the least he could do is let her choose what happens in this moment.
“-- so Otis apologized a long time ago, you just never heard it.” He doesn't tell her about the end of the message.
For a second, Maeve looks at him like she’s empty and hollow.
Finally, she says, “You’re a fucking snake Isaac. Get out.” Her voice breaks. “Get the fuck out!”
Isaac speeds out of there as fast as he can. God dammit. All his care around her and here is he, just another person who’s betrayed her in the end. He goes back to his own caravan and wishes he could turn back time.
Maeve calls Aimee, cries, and generally doesn’t do anything about Otis.
Maeve’s sitting in assembly two weeks later, biting her nails, staring at the horribly ugly orange trainers on the feet of the kid two rows in front of her. She’s waiting to go to aptitude class.
The new principle-- new because even though Mr. Grof is technically on administrative leave, everyone knows he’s not coming back-- is saying, “...congratulations to Maeve Wiley--” Maeve’s head snaps up “--for making it to the semifinalist round of the National Essay Competition! Only one hundred students in the UK reach this point, so it’s an--”
Maeve is stunned. She can’t believe she’s being told at the same time as the rest of the student body. She can’t believe she made it. Her essay’s actually moved on.
The otherwise silent atmosphere is pierced by an audible, “what?” from the depths of the student body. Otis looks like he’s struggling to stand up while Eric is pulling him down.
He’s hissing frantically, “No man, not right now! We’re in the middle of assembly.”
“Sorry. Continue.” Eric says to the principle.
“Eh hem.”
Maeve closes her eyes and laughs, despite it all.
“--only a hundred students in the UK reach this point, so it’s an impressive achievement. If she makes it to finalist status, it will reflect very highly on our school, not to mention provide countless opportunities for Maeve herself. Remember to give her a high five if you see her in the halls! That’s all for today Moordale, let’s get to class.”
The class dissolves, Maeve getting some dirty looks as they pass. Cock biter rings in the air around her.
They’re talking about her. Obviously they’re talking about her. It shouldn’t surprise her. But it stings a little more than usual. Maeve had gotten used to being respected.
Otis makes a beeline for her. “Oh my god Maeve, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I didn’t know you were entering. Congratulations!” He gives her a big hug. “You deserve this, I’m so glad you’re finally getting credit for everything you do, and obviously, you’re such a great writer, it’s been such a long time coming. I’m so--”
His face falls as he forms the words he finished his voicemail with months ago.
“…proud of you.” He tugs on the straps of his backpack. “Sorry. I just meant-- yeah. Anyways.”
He scuffs his toe on the floor and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. Then he starts to go.
“Wait, Otis!” Maeve calls impulsively.
“Yeah?”
“You wanna read it?”
“Read what?” He says blankly.
“My essay, stupid.”
“Oh uhhh yes, sure, definitely. I’d definitely would definitely--”
“I’ll text you,” Maeve says, and then she’s gone.
“ Stupid,” Otis groans.
They arrange to meet up after school one day.
Otis comes up to her in the hall, rocking on his heels.
Maeve raises her eyebrows. “Can I help you?”
Otis opens his mouth. “Oh I thought we--” he gestures “--we were going to--”
“Oh shit. I didn’t even--”
They’d just gotten a new assignment, giving a presentation on a topic of their choice and the only requirements were that they were passionate about the topic and that it was well researched. Plus, she was thinking about applying for a job because she’d realized that if she hadn’t gotten that $1000, she’d be drowning in debt by now.
“--I left it at home.”
“Oh. That’s okay then, I guess we could do it another time.” Otis looks like a puppy. “I have sex clinic stuff anyway.”
“You’ve been running the sex clinic without me?” Maeve asks, surprised. “Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you. How’s it been going?”
Otis mumbles something.
“Speak up, dickhead.”
He looks down. “We’ve been giving the advice away for free.”
Maeve cackles.
She’s about to say goodbye when Otis says, “I could walk you home if you want? The sex clinic stuff isn’t for a few hours.”
They get to her caravan and Otis produces a bag of crips from his backpack. They pop it open and pass it back and forth.
“I could read your essay now,” Otis suggests. “Since you said you left it here?”
Maeve hesitates. “I mean, we probably don’t have time. Since you have to leave soon and all that.”
Otis opens his mouth, confused. He’s not exactly leaving “soon.” They’ve got a solid hour or hour and a half before he has to start walking.
Has she changed her mind then? He starts to worry. Maybe he’s managed to be an arsehole again.
“You could read it another time,” Maeve says, sucking a corner of her cheek.
Oh, right. Another time. He channels all of his inner-Eric and resists the urge to fist pump or do anything similarly embarrassing.
Very cooly, he says, “Yeah, you’re right. Another time.”
Maeve and Otis leave soon (Maeve decides she’d might as well walk him back since she’s got nothing better to do, not like she’s got a presentation to start working on or anything) and they take the long long way back, so that it actually takes an hour to get there. Maeve lingers outside during the appointment.
It’s just getting dark by the time the girl leaves, and she spots Maeve standing outside as she exits.
“Maeve! Are you booking appointments again?”
Otis comes out behind the girl.
“No,” Maeve starts.
“I--” Otis says.
“Well--” Maeve says.
The girl sighs in relief. “Oh thank god, jesus, at this point I don’t even care if you guys start charging again. I mean, being the sex kid is one thing, at least he’s halfway decent at that -- but this?” She gestures at the sky and shakes her head in disgust. “Hell if I won’t pay for a bloody meeting time that’s not in the middle of dinner. And don’t even get me started on the meetings we show up to only to find the building locked.”
Otis winces behind her.
“Anyway,” she says brightly. “Thanks Otis, see you Maeve!”
As soon as she’s out of sight, Maeve doubles over. “Otis,” she chokes out between laughs.
“Oh shut up Maeve, it’s not that funny.” Otis looks around awkwardly, as if anyone else has stuck around at school this late to see them.
“It’s fucking hilarious.”
When Otis tells Eric what happened, Eric looks equal parts sick and ecstatic.
“Ah.” He says finally. He adjusts his scarf. “This would be funny if it weren’t so sad.”