Chapter Text
Sasha Waybright had a problem.
Correction: Sasha Waybright had a lot of problems. If she didn't, she wouldn't be behind the wheel of a stolen Toyota (courtesy of her father), speeding through the streets of Los Angeles in a desperate attempt to get as far away from civilization as possible. At least, not at the age of sixteen, and not at two o'clock in the morning.
Some people say that the greatest strokes of genius come when one doesn't entirely have their wits about them, a saying that Sasha could now deny with confidence. She'd always secretly wanted to make her grand escape from the state of California, but it wasn't quite an it's-two-a.m.-and-I-don't-know-what-else-to-do sort of plan. It was something she'd been saving for an exceptional event, like her eighteenth birthday, or her first day of college.
And yet, there she was, escaping California at two a.m. in a stolen Toyota at the age of sixteen.
The only ounce of normalcy that could be found in the entire situation was the presence of her loyal and long-time friend Marcy Wu, who resided in the back seat, clinging on to her seat for dear life as the Rav swerved between intersections. Even in this case, though, there was nothing normal about picking up your reported dead friend at a gas station at 2 a.m. – she wasn’t even supposed to be alive, and yet here she was, yelling at Sasha for her impulsive driving.
Marcy had gone missing a few weeks ago. No one had heard a word about where she’d gone or why, but a few weeks later, a witness reported to have seen her drown. There was no evidence proving this, nor was there evidence against it, but as a sixteen-year-old girl really had no business faking her death, there wasn’t really much anyone could do. She was declared dead.
Just that night, Sasha had received a phone call from a pay phone in the city. She remembered too clearly Marcy’s voice – it seemed calm, normal. Just like any other day, when Marcy could call Sasha and say something like “hey, could you come pick me up from my house?” or “I’m by the school, would you mind giving me a ride?” Except, of course, Marcy had been declared dead, and it was eleven at night.
Either way, Sasha had been more than happy to go find Marcy – that was, until she’d been confronted by her father as she tried to leave the house. Of course, she couldn’t tell them that she was going to go pick up her dead best friend at eleven o’clock at night – in fact, curfew was at ten. It had been messy, but Sasha was eventually able to get ahold of her father’s car and head out. Not the exit she’d always dreamed of, but it was… an exit nonetheless.
One of the first things Marcy had asked about upon hopping into Sasha’s dad’s car was Anne Boonchuy, their other friend. Rather, Sasha’s girlfriend. Or they were dating up until their breakup just a few days ago. Marcy and Anne had never been more than friends, but Anne and Sasha on the other hand had been dating on and off for what could’ve been a year or so. Marcy had always claimed it was a wonder that their friend group could still even function properly.
That was when Sasha decided that Anne would be coming along on this little adventure. Besides, it was only fair that Anne was one of the first (and only) people to know that Marcy was even still alive.
Sasha clearly wasn't familiar with the route - she'd ever only taken a few paths to Anne's house. Marcy acted as a sort of navigator, crying out rights and lefts as the car reached stop signs. Rather, she would've been, had she not been shouting at Sasha to slow the hell down so she could read street signs, or telling her not to hit low hanging branches or recycle bins (Sasha wouldn't have ever planned to make her grand heist on a recycle day. Obviously, she hadn't willingly planned any of this out).
"Sasha, good God, you're gonna get us killed!" Marcy cried from the backseat for perhaps the hundredth time.
Sasha sure as hell was panicking, but she had to keep her cool or else Marcy wouldn’t trust her. Fake it ‘til ya make it, Sash, she told herself "You're already dead!" she argued.
Legally, this was correct.
Marcy leaned back in her seat and ran her fingers through her short, dark hair. Sasha could sense that she was already stressed out, but rightly so. "Good Christ, Sash- have you lost your marbles?"
Sasha smirked. "Yeah. I did. But she's back now, and we're gonna live every day like it's her last.”
Marcy clearly didn’t agree with this sentiment as she clung onto the handle above the door for dear life. “Dude, can’t you just – drop me off somewhere?” she asked, her voice strained by the sudden blow she’d taken to the chest with her seatbelt (or perhaps the state of fear she’d been in ever since Sasha had gotten off the road she’d picked her friend up at and begun tearing down the streets as though she were in an open field.)
“No way,” Sasha answered firmly. “You barely survived two weeks out here. You need someone to look after you.” And I can’t quite go back and see my parents. But despite this obvious defiance, Sasha slowed down a bit. Of course, this would pop into her mind the question of whether or not her dad had called the police on her and if that would be an issue getting out of town… she shook the thought and instead decided to add on to her first remark. “You know, half of me is wondering how you actually managed to get someone to look after you.”
The several seconds of silence that followed her indirect inquiry made Sasha more than a bit uneasy. “I was, uh…” Marcy seemed strangely calculating and yet, she wasn’t any less calm. It was almost like an entirely new anxiety had gripped her. “…I was with a friend,” she answered finally.
Though the hesitation had popped a few questions into Sasha’s mind, she shrugged them off. “So, Marmar, how’s it been treating you? Y’know, the whole being dead thing? I’ve always wanted to fake my death and leave the country, but daaaaaaamn girl, I’d never expected to see anyone up and do it.”
Marcy blinked, surprised that Sasha had seemed to take a genuine interest in how she’d been doing. She glanced over at Sasha and couldn’t help but poke a bit of fun herself. “What, did ya miss me or something?”
“Ha! In your dreams!” Sasha laughed, then bit her tongue when she realized how mean it sounded. Is it acceptable to tease your best friend if she’s been missing for the past two weeks? Should she maybe lay off? Should she even be worried?
There was a brief moment of awkward silence, and the car began to slow down even more. Sasha sighed as she scanned the houses down the street. “But… yeah, I missed you.”
Marcy leaned forward and rest her chin on the seat just behind Sasha’s shoulder. “Aww…”
Sasha tensed, then reached her left arm over her other shoulder, pushing her friend away. “But you’re back now, I guess.”
Despite having been shoved back about a foot, Marcy giggled and scooted forward onto the edge of the car seat.
Sasha glanced over at Marcy and her glittering gaze of adoration in the dark and felt her ears heat up. She snorted, forced herself to look away, and the moment was over. "And it’s a good thing, too," she added sarcastically, then, with an even more bitter tone, muttered, "I'm pretty sure Boonchuy over here is madly obsessed with you. Damn, she’ll be glad to see you."
Marcy had never been the type to tailor her response to the emotional atmosphere of a conversation. "Really?" Though Sasha wouldn't turn to look at her, she knew by the tone of Marcy's voice that she'd be staring at her with wide, hopeful eyes. "Wait... isn't she dating you? Are you... oh, no, she dumped you again, didn't she?"
Her question was answered by silence. Sasha simply gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
"Of course," Marcy leaned back in her seat and let out a nervous laugh. "You only call her by her last name when you're super pissed with her."
Again, silence. The car came to a stop, and Sasha continue to gaze steadily through the windshield, her eyes trailing behind the small raindrops as they combined with other small raindrops and moved down toward the hood of the car.
"So, how'd it happen this time? Let me guess - Sasha and Anne disagree on something, Sasha and Anne have an argument from which they have difficulties recovering, Sasha gets all defiant, Anne grows emotionally distant... and the whole thing ends in tears."
Sasha finally spoke. "Marmar, shut up."
This request clearly wasn't received as well as Sasha had hoped, and to her dismay, it only seemed to get Marcy more worked up. "No. You know what? I won't shut up. You shut up. Half of me is starting to think that the only reason you're bringing her with us is so that I can play mediator and help you recover something that, frankly, might not even have been made to last. It's what I always do. You stomp all over her heart and leave me to pick up the pieces. Maybe if you bothered to fix things yourself-!"
"Marcy, shut the hell up," Sasha repeated, this time with more urgency. If this went much further, she wouldn't be able to get Marcy to shut up about the topic and Anne would likely be forced into the conversation when she arrived. If Anne felt at all like that was actually the case, that Sasha always went to Marcy for help when she missed Anne (or even if she had the slightest idea that she actually missed her), Sasha would come looking like a huge weakling.
"Don't tell me to shut up! Jesus, nothing you say right now could possibly be that-"
The phone began ringing in Sasha’s hand, and Marcy immediately stopped talking.
The dull, ringing tone was the only thing that could be heard in the car, but after about two of them, Marcy spoke up again. “Are you trying to call her at two in the m-”
“Shush!”
The tone sounded one more time, then went to voicemail. “Hey, um, this is Anne. I can’t come to the phone right now so… leave a message, I gue-”
Sasha grumbled and hung up. “Let’s try this again-”
“Sasha, no. It’s two in the morning.”
She gritted her teeth in frustration, but replied calmly. “Do you want Anne to know you’re alive, yes or no?”
“Yeah, but-”
“And do you want me to get you out of here so nobody finds you?” Sasha pointed the cell phone at Marcy, who stared at her with wide eyes.
“…Yeah…”
Sasha turned right back around and started tapping on her phone again. “Then let me do my thing, ‘kay?”
Having nothing more to say, Marcy remained silent.
This time, after two rings, Anne picked up. “Sasha, it’s two in the fucking morning.”
Marcy could hear Anne’s groggy voice and gasped.
Sasha shot her a dangerous glare as she spoke into the phone. “Yeah, hey, bestie, good to hear from you, too,” she answered jokingly.
There was a moment of silence, followed by a sigh from Anne. “This better be very important. God, there’s a reason I haven’t talked to you since the funeral.”
The funeral. When Marcy realized exactly who’s funeral it had been, she took in a sharp breath, and Sasha shushed her once again.
“Who’s that?”
“Uh…” Sasha started to panic a bit. She wouldn’t be able to explain it to Anne, not without showing her. “Nothing. I was just yawning.”
She wondered if Anne bought it – and to her relief, she didn’t question it. “Yeah, no shit, just a symptom if it being, I don’t know, two in the morning. What is it you need from me, anyway?”
Sasha felt a tap on her shoulder. “Hold on, give me a sec-” She poked the mute button. “What is it, Marcy?” she snapped as Anne grumbled something sarcastic about a list and owing all her time to Sasha.
Marcy seemed concerned. “Has she always been this…”
“Irritable?” Sasha finished, then laughed. “Nope. Just since you died. As you said, it’s that thing she does where she gets all distant…”
“It’s my fault?”
Was it? Sasha was indifferent to this idea. She didn’t quite know anything that had happened to Marcy yet – why she ran off, who saw her dead, and what friend she had been staying with. She was sure it would all clear up in time, but did she blame her and Anne’s breakup on Marcy? Was that even fair?
Sasha searched her mind for a way she could explain this, but ended up instead doing what she did best – rolling her eyes as though it were a stupid question. Did she blame Marcy? Maybe a little bit. “I’m sure she’s just grieving.” She took a deep breath, unmuted herself, and finally said into the phone, “Pack your shit, Boonchuy. We’re going to Disneyworld.”
“I’m not going to Disneyland with you at two in the morning, Sasha,” Anne replied angrily.
Clearly she didn’t understand, but to be fair, Sasha had been rather vague. “No, like, we’re going on a road trip. Pack your shit.”
Sasha received no response, and it took her a second to realize that Anne had hung up on her.
“Daaaamn!” Marcy chimed from behind her.
Sasha hit the home button on her phone and decided to text Anne from her contacts. This process consisted of her typing up a sentence, deleting it, and starting from scratch. Finally, she typed something that sounded right and sent it before setting her phone down and leaning her head against the seat. It would only take a few seconds to send.
Do u believe in ghosts?