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Everything was going to be perfect.
Perfect .
As if the universe had meticulously rearranged its cosmos to allow such a day, everything El wanted, she got. Her boyfriend to traverse from Midwest to Western America? Done, although he arrived with a curious choice in attire. A day to immerse herself in the entertainment of those who painted her in scorn, to dazzle under the lights rather than having them glare at her in interrogation in regards to her true nature? Done, and from the looks of it, nobody she knew had the same idea for today. The best spring break? All hers, if she so desired.
So, yes, it didn’t seem so bold to say that today would be perfect.
Just as long as the cosmos fell into their rightful places, playing a satisfactory game of chess rather than an unruly game of chase the freak - incomparable games at first glance, but given their intention to power over your opponent, El only hoped she could sit behind an organised board of her choosing rather than have it toppled over by her opponent in their cruel attempt to threaten her. Chess exists to threaten the pieces, not the players, but when playing with life you must be careful not to lose your wits.
Striding towards the door to Rink-o-Mania, El prayed that life would give her the upper hand for once.
“Pretty bitchin’, right?” Buzzing with anticipation, she turned towards her boyfriend, hoping to sense the same eagerness bubbling within him. The boyfriend in question towered over her, scrunching his nose up a little as his eyes flickered from skates to girlfriend, back to skates.
“Yeah… Yeah, bitchin’.” She couldn’t help but wonder what plagued him so. Perhaps it regarded his recent arrival to the state, therefore lessening his energy and his excitement due to exhaustion… Then again, he seemed eager on the van ride to the roller rink. Distracted may have been a better descriptor, and she hoped once they began, things would be better. Maybe she had to hype it up a little? As much as the facade pained her, she had grown to fear Mike preferred her lies. He likely wouldn’t enjoy reading letters every week about the agony she faced, the ostracisation and the growing disturbance that she would never fit. It couldn’t be bold-faced lying if it were simply just… an omission of the horrors she faced. Perhaps a glamorisation of everything. It couldn’t be ill-natured if it were only intended to ease his fears.
“I go to parties here, you know.” She nudged Mike, piquing his interest and making him peer down at her. For a split second, her gaze remained upon his face, trying to garner her intended reaction. However, despite her internal calculations, a reaction she hadn’t intended burst the bubble of interest.
“No, you don’t?” To her left, Will poked his head around with a slight tilt, displaying his quizzical gaze for both of them to see. Mike’s eyes flickered between El and Will this time, trying to understand the alleged twin telepathy that so many people had spoken of. Naturally, rather than his first instinct being that El had lied, he instead presumed there was a miscommunication between them both and they were internally piecing such a thing together. After all, El’s motto was how ‘friends don’t lie’. For her to backtrack and lie to her boyfriend… Well, it would not be his first assumption.
“ You do not, Will.” Though it had the intention of a statement, it emerged from her gritted teeth more like a warning; don’t ruin my day , spoken loud and clear with gleaming neon lights above her head. As he tore his gaze from his sister, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little at her hypocrisy. Not to mention how she had made it painstakingly clear, whether intentionally or not, Firsthat her day would only be ‘perfect’ if he were silent in the background.
He had taken the background role in so many people’s lives within the year. Doing so for today wouldn’t be too difficult.
No matter how much it fucking stung .
After the previous exchange, the three sat down upon a bench to put their skates on and begin the previously arranged performance upon the roller rink. Once again, everything would be perfect here too. She and Mike, connected in both soul and interlocked hands, would drift upon the floor. Everyone else would simply vanish , a daze as they seemed to take flight in each other’s presence. Lighting creates a pathway of yellow, reflecting the warmth that radiates from their souls as they become the reason for the rink’s existence.
Oh, what a fairytale , right?
Unfortunately for El’s dreams—or perhaps self-inflicted delusion—things were never as wonderful as a fairytale could create.
Firstly, they had forgotten the socks. Upon addressing this to Mike, he hopped up and followed Will’s pointed hand towards the counter. Luckily, it was nothing but a quickly amended variable prior to the recreation of starlight upon the rink.
…if it weren’t for the fact that her twin wished to return the sting she had delivered upon his heart moments prior; if not for rightful pettiness, for rightful concern towards her treatment of her boyfriend.
“How’d you forget the socks? You know, since you come here all the time.” As he finished, he waved his hands around, displaying her facade for all the audience to see. She blinked at him a few times, trying not to break character, and turned back to her shoes.
“I… I don’t know, I guess I just forgot.” That wasn’t true and they both knew it.
“Right.” A pause that seemed to take eons seeped through the air, clogging her throat with dread.
Just enough time for Mike to hover by the counter and fail to gain the attention of the working staff.
“Um… hello? Excuse me?” He stared over the counter and tried not to display his time-related nerves, switching the weight from one leg to the other… numerous times within the minute. Perhaps he was a little nervous, but rightfully so - he had looked behind him to watch over Will and El, and while he could not see El’s expression from the angle he stood at, Will had etched a scowl on his face in the short time he had been gone. What the hell were they talking about? And what the hell was taking so long ? “Excuse me!” This time, rather than just barely speaking above the music, he smacked his hand against the counter. Much to his relief, he received an eye flicker from the girl he presumed had tried to ignore his presence, and she threw her comic against the side in defeat.
“What do you want?” To replicate his attempt for attention, she smacked her hand against the counter and stared directly into his eyes, wrinkles slithering along her nose from where she scowled. Before replying, Mike took a moment to look the girl up and down, to wager whether an angered tone in response was really worth it; he took into account her height, the baggy uniform that had a person’s name faintly etched into the collar from years prior, and the messy braids creating waves of red. “Look, are you gonna say anything or are you gonna keep gawking at me like that?”
“What the fuck…?!” He scrunched his nose up and stepped back, intimidated by her barked words but unwilling to admit it, “Look, can I get some socks please?”
“$10.” Spitting the number at him, she mimicked his glancing up and down in the hopes he wouldn’t question.
“No, I’m sorry, they do not cost that much?” Unfortunately, he had taken to questioning far quicker than he had done anything else that day.
“They do to rude pricks who decide to spend more of their day staring at a random stranger instead of rushing back to their girlfriend.” Both of them glanced over at El, who had her back turned, but she still dazzled brighter than any star, “Which, by the way?” The girl working the desk nudged Mike and brought him close as she hissed a whisper into his ear, “If you don’t hurry your sorry ass up and give me that $10, I’ll go and steal her attention myself.” To this, Mike shuddered and tugged himself away, rummaging through his pockets desperately. Most would assume this to be out of fear of losing his girlfriend, but the girl knew it was because he lacked any chance against her. Much to her glee, however, the $10 fell into her grasp as she grinned down at it. Feeling pity towards his panic, her grin continued to blossom as she catapulted neon green socks towards his contorted face.
“Really?”
“Enjoy your skate, bitchboy.” As she watched him storm away in a huff, she chuckled to herself and grasped the $10 bill with one hand as she lightly flicked it with the other.
This girl went by Max Mayfield, though not even her colleagues knew her name. Mostly because she had discarded the badge that glistened with the scribbles of “Hi, I’m Maxine! Ask me anything :)” on plastic. If the feigned politeness didn’t make her wish to tear her hair out, the use of her full ‘name’ definitely did. For that wasn’t her name. It couldn’t be. She was Max, and she had lived in shitty California for her whole shitty life.
Her family—well, she, her mother, and the unfortunate additions legally dubbed a step-family—had intended to move over to Indiana when the two adults married in 1984. However, just as they seemed to solidify their location, stories spiralled from the tiny town of Hawkins surrounding disappearances and deaths and government conspiracies. As one of the disappearances in question regarded a little boy, the same age as Max, her mother shifted from optimism about a new start to concern distorted by media paranoia. Simple worries of ‘that could happen’ quickly morphed into ‘Max will never be safe anywhere’, and Max had to watch as her mother turned to alcoholism to cope with her self-inflicted fears.
Yeah, if you view it from one rose-tinted angle, Max had been safer in California. If you ignore the fact she had been thrusted into employment from a young age to put food in front of herself at lunch, for her step-father loved to treat food as a privilege rather than a human need. Oh, and the fact she often played the mitigator during her step-father’s disputes with both her step-brother and mother, offering them ice and patching up their grazes from his raised fists. She reassured her mother that her medical expertise came from skateboarding, while omitting the fact she’d sometimes buy medical supplies instead of lunch just in case her mother ever needed it.
So, while it would be deemed malpractice to charge someone double the usual price of socks, she deemed it her means of survival. Scam a rich cunt out of a few bucks, have something to eat the next day.
Just as long as her boss never caught her doing so, of course.
After a brief moment to pocket her money, Max allowed her gaze to follow the boy she had just taunted. Since departure, he had rushed over back to his (presumed) girlfriend, and the boy that she guessed was third wheeling. While she technically attended Lenora Hills High School, she seldom turned up due to a great distaste of the atmosphere.
Why offer your time to pretentious assholes who only wish to tear you down to ‘prove’ their popularity, when you could entirely avoid such nuisances?
It had grown to the point her homeroom teacher stopped phoning home. Ringing for half an hour just to receive a dull hum of an ignored call was hardly time well spent.
Although, if there were one decent thing about that school… She missed her math class a little. Just because she dominated it. No number or equation could go unsolved under Max’s watchful eye, apart from calculus, because once the graphs and symbols came into play she’d throw her pen to the page and storm away from it.
As she continued to scan the roller rink, hand resting on chin and eyes resting on the pretty girl’s back, she began to look over her outfit a little. Though she had yet to properly see this girl’s face, mostly due to the obscurity that glaring neon lights tended to create for most things under it, she allowed her imagination to wander a little. An adorable checkered shirt underneath a striped dress that hugged her was bound to have an adorable face above it all, after all. Not to mention how her hair, a swirl of brown and hazel strands all fluffed up, seemed to absorb the light above her in a way that reminded Max of the first autumnal tree to bloom every year.
Silly girl. It’s spring, not autumn.
Not to mention how this girl had a boyfriend. A despicable, horrific, eyesore of a boyfriend.
Okay, so Max didn’t exactly know Mike. She had no reason to despise him other than hitting his hand against the counter, which probably hurt him more than her. Regardless, she knew he was a bastard that didn’t deserve such a wonderful and ethereal girlfriend in his vicinity, let alone next to him.
How she hoped that the vomit green socks she catapulted in his face gave the pretty girl reason to leave him.
Then, just as her gaze began to waver, trouble arrived.
“Oh my gosh, milkshakes?” Tearing El’s gaze from Mike’s, Angela glided over towards the table. All blood ran cold. Why was Angela , the last person El had wanted to see that day, drawing a trail of fake smiles and glaring neon clothing intended to blind you when she attacked right towards her table? Everything had been going well, apart from a few complications that could be quickly fixed.
This? This could not be quickly fixed.
Both Will and El’s increasing nerves unbeknownst to Mike, despite desperate drumming of El’s index finger against the table and her breaths shortening, he looked up at the approaching company with a vacant expression.
“Where oh where have you been hiding this handsome thing?” In response to this, El and Mike made brief eye contact, purposefully brief so El could flutter her tears away with a blink.
“Angela, this… this is Mike, my boyfriend.” As the word boyfriend left her lips, so did her confidence, for she swallowed back the heart that wished to escape.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t.
She couldn’t she couldn’t she shouldn’t she couldn’t she couldn’t shouldn’t wouldn’t won’t.
Yet she was stuck. Glued. Nothing in this earth or from underneath it could ever aid her in escaping. Forces beyond her understanding left her fixed in her seat, an unmoving pebble battered by a sea inhabited by terrifying creatures.
Hell, she had encountered terrifying creatures far beyond human comprehension.
It seemed comprehending humans was the most terrifying encounter of all.
“Angela. Pleasure.” Unaware or perhaps unfazed by El’s growing distress, her glance melted into Mike, who gave her a tiny smile in response. Outstretching a hand to Mike, El’s heart stopped when he took it.
“Heard a lot about you. It’s really cool to meet one of El-” he chewed back her nickname, wary of the setting but unaware of El’s attempt to shuffle away, “ Jane’s friends.” To this, Angela moved herself a little closer to El, fully aware of the rose-tinted image she had painted in written prose.
“Come on, friend . Let’s skate, shall we?” A tone sounding sweet yet oozing gall. Another outstretched hand. Blocking the exit.
“I- I wanted to finish-”
“I’ll hold onto that.” Peeping out from behind Angela, a boy nabbed her chocolate milkshake and ensured she had no excuse to avoid the torture chamber.
“Come on.” Dragging El by her arm and rendering all her nervous systems a failure, Angela couldn’t help but bite back a grin. Oh, everything would be perfect indeed .
“Hey, man, can I put a special request in after this?” Max perked up at the sudden inquiry, though it had not been directed towards her. Feigning a break, she had chosen to walk over to the food counter and steal a few chips underneath the server’s nose. The server was too busy chatting up some girl. She could do so much better than a guy that reeks of chip fat.
“Sure, man, I think this song’s just ending. What’s up?” She stared over at the music booth for a moment, trying to wager why on earth someone would randomly request something right now. Then, as her gaze rose up, she realised.
The pretty girl.
She could finally see her face, but not the expression she anticipated being greeted with.
Eyes wide, face drained of all colour, cheeks hollow.
She was scared . Understandably so, given the hand drawing her onto the rink.
Her fist clenched as she tuned back into the conversation and pieced everything together.
“Yeah, uh, Wipe Out by The Surfaris? Trust me, we’ve got a killer routine planned out.” The person requesting sniggered—seriously, who laughs like that, as if they’re some fictitious high school bully?—and so does the DJ, catching on at the same time as Max.
“Oh my god, the freak ’s here? Dude, of course, right away my man.” Laughter erupts, though Max can’t comprehend why.
The freak ? Do they want to be gutted and strewn across the streets within the next hour? What the fuck had this girl done to warrant such cruelty from a range of people and why did Max feel such a desperate to protect a girl she’d never spoken to and why the fuck was she just stood still ?!?
The torture began.
Music flooded the floor, people flooded the rink. Even people with no prior awareness of El seemed to rush to the rink just to feel the thrill of ill-natured conformity, of mockery that they could perpetuate and never experience.
She knew. She knew they were all going to attack her. She just didn’t know how.
Until the microphone buzzed.
“This next song is dedicated to Jane, the local snitch.” Angela drifted away from her just as drilling bled into the floor, the incessant drumming that began the tune echoing throughout the floor and rising through her body.
Ah.
So this was how.
Centre stage, surrounded by peers and strangers alike, all set on public humiliation.
She hadn’t even snitched about a thing.
Circles, circles, circles. Continuous echoes. Eye contact. So many beady eyes burning into her. Staring through her skin and seeing her bones, hoping to gut her alive.
“Hey, hey- hey !” Flying off towards the booth, Max couldn’t spare a moment to stand and gawk. If she were to do that, she’d believe herself to be just as bad as the perpetrators. Understandable if you were afraid or perhaps you’d experienced bullying, but if you’re someone who breaks the bullies' noses and leaves bloodied (well, red penned) threats within their lockers, standing to gawk was just not in Max’s nature. So, she rushed over to the music booth, gaining the attention of the two big headed DJs. Both of which didn’t spare her a glance. “ Look at me, assholes!”
“Sorry, missy, we can’t hear you!” Oh, bullshit! They absolutely heard and the sing-song tone in which they informed her made that abundantly clear. Blood vessels fit to burst throughout her body and nails leaving dents in her palms from clenched fists, Max took another step forward and grabbed the blond haired DJ by the ear.
“No, you could hear me, and you’re gonna hear me out here, you fucking waste of air. You’re going to turn that shit off, get on your knees, and apologise to that poor girl.” To this, the DJ turned to face Max, leaning forward and spitting his response.
“Or what? You’re gonna get all mad ?” Tone purposefully highly intonated, he added a final cherry on the top as he whispered, “Why don’t you be a good little girl and watch the show?” No. That was it. She swung at him. Upon impact, a few bones shattered due to the suppressed frustration clenched into that very fist, and he stumbled back. Hand underneath nostrils met with blood. Another swing, this time creating constellations in his eyes; she hoped his eyes would pop out if she punched hard enough. The other DJ, eyes flickering from the crumpled up excuse of a fellow DJ and a girl with a bloodied fist and swift heavy breaths, backed against the wall with a whimper. Clenched teeth and clenched hands. She could have taken him out too. Instead, she swung her leg up and ruptured the ground beneath her, purposefully aiming for the bastard’s groin as she used his waste of a body to prop herself up to the music booth.
Seriously, how fucking pathetic do you have to be to pride your spring job on public humiliation? Just scam people you’ll never see again like a normal person.
With a scratch, the record emerged from the booth, snapping in half against Max’s knee as she thrust it down. Though the music came to a halt, and both DJs rendered immobile due to physical or mental reasons, the torture upon the rink did not stop.
For just as Max looked up, in the hopes the lack of music would disturb their ploy, a chocolate milkshake splashed against the pretty girl’s pretty dress. She became one with the floor as the crowd cheered.
All while her waste of space of a boyfriend just screeched ‘El, El!!!!’ as if words would help her up.
Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck these fucking DJs.
It seemed Max would have to do the thing she dreaded most - sliding into the limelight.
El genuinely just wanted to disappear.
To pop into thin air, to vanish entirely.
To become a faint memory in everyone’s minds.
Instead, eyes became lazers pointed at her, creating dotted burns all along her body as she itched and ached. Milkshake dripped down her dress, down her leg, seeped into her socks and merged into her hair. Tears flooded from her eyes, puffing them out as her mouth formed a grimace.
All in all, she felt and looked a mess. And she just wished people would stop staring , stop laughing . Their laughter felt like chalk to the ears, making them bleed and ring as she wished to scratch them out. Instead, she propped herself up, stumbling and thrashing her arms towards the nearest door where she could lock the world away and just allow the tears to choke her fully. She could choke if nobody was watching. To choke under the discoball would make her seem like a tragic star. She couldn’t claim the title of ‘star’ when even a dead one would out-do her in this moment. No matter the tragedy she experienced.
Meanwhile, Max had bolted past all the tables, franctically shaking her head as she tried to see El through the crowd. So many people were just standing. Watching. Both on the rink and from the comfort of near their tables. Oh, how tempting it was to give them a taste of their own medicine, she thought, as her hand hovered near a full cup that lacked a lid.
A flicker of brown fluff passed beyond the crowd. All too entertained by their own skit to acknowledge her leaving. Max knocked the drink over in a state of personal revenge, rushing over to follow El. Even if she couldn’t talk to her, she could at the very least help her clean up. It was the least she could do after breaking the DJs nose for her.
“Excuse me? Ex-” The closet door slammed in her face. Fair enough. Max reckoned the girl didn’t even realise she had been pursued, as the overwhelming buzzing from stress tended to block out any exterior noise. After all, she knew the sound very well at home.
Knock, knock .
Just as El settled beside a metal cabinet, nails poking into her back through her dress, a knock rang through the closet. The faint hum of the air vent turned to dust as the only noise in that closet became a thumping heart, its ability to beat at all brought into question by the moments she had just experienced. Nonetheless, questions flooded her mind.
Is it Angela?
Did she follow me?
Did one of her friends follow me?
Is it the guy with the camera?
Is it Will?
Is it Mike?
Am I hearing things because of my own nerves?
Eyes locked onto the door handle.
Knock, knock!
If they had the intention of furthering her shame, they were sure going about it in a very polite manner.
Despite all her concerns, El propped herself up with aid from the metal cabinet, wiped her tear-stained face, and walked over to the door handle.
“Hello…?” Spoken in a small voice, she peeked out from a tiny crevice between door and wall, and found herself greeted by beady blue eyes and freckles. Oh, and red hair that resembled fire.
Definitely not a face she knew.
“Hi. Can I… come in?” Responding with a similarly small voice, she waved tissues in front of her chest and gave a tiny smile. At least, El presumed she smiled. She had only seen half of it.
For the first time in the hour, her heart rate softened as she opened the door just a little bit wider.
Tissue melted into the pretty girl’s face. The two sat crossed legged on the floor, breathing quietly as Max focused on the other girl. With tears staining her eyes and smudging her makeup, her face resembled a watercolour painting. Each brush stroke, some from a pink blusher that complimented her eyes, and others where the damp paintbrush dipped into a darker shade and created a dripping grey from her eyes, morphed this girl into a work of art. While Max had never really had an affinity for the arts, she did know from art class that pieces often served as an outlet for burning feelings. Art could depict something harrowing underneath the finished render of a beautiful girl's solemn face. Max had just never deemed those theories true until she was the one wiping spillages from the painting in front of her.
“Thank you.” El choked out, voice breaking as she struggled to level it correctly. All Max could do was give a smile, cupping her chin in one hand as she tried to wipe tears from her neck with the other.
“No need to thank me. It’s what any decent person would do.” Her voice seemed to melt into El’s ears, soothing her with its sweetness yet enticing her with the underlying boisterousness. She giggled a little, her gaze fixed upon the other girl’s freckles and how they decorated her face. For a moment, she wondered how she had deserved such kindness from a stranger.
“What’s your name?” The inquiry left El’s lips louder than her previous words, though slightly hoarse due to the angle of her chin. In response, Max gently lowered her chin and began combing through her hair as softly as her coarse hands could.
“Max. Yours?” As she spoke, she leaned closer, leading to El mirroring the effect and impaling her back with another nail. A quick wince made Max lean back, all while El silently mourned the momentary closeness for reasons she did not entirely comprehend.
“El.” Her chosen name slipped from her lips. Having had all intention to introduce herself with her legal name, the comfort of the situation offered her a chance to instead introduce her and not the freak or the snitch. Upon hearing her name, Max gave a little smile.
“El. That’s a really beautiful name. Is it short for anything?”
“Yes, but… I much prefer El.” She fiddled with her hands as she spoke, trying to avoid Max’s eyes to no prevail.
“It’s okay. My name is technically short for something too, but… if it’s not the name we want to go by, we shouldn’t introduce ourselves with it, should we?” She flashed El a grin and received a nod in response, making her giggle a little. “I think I’ve cleaned most of you up, I just… can’t do much about the dress, I’m afraid.” They both panned their eyes down to El’s torso, eyes fixed upon the large stain that popped out at them both.
“That’s okay,” brushing herself off, El gave Max another smile before taking a deep breath to ask, “but why… Did you follow me here?” For the first time that exchange, Max was the one to avoid a gaze.
Now. It wasn’t factually incorrect to say she had followed El. But how would she explain… the events before?
“I, um… I broke the DJs nose hoping it would make them leave you alone, but then the bastards on the rink finished their little act, and I wanted to come make up for failing.” El’s eyes widened, and she stared vacantly at Max for a moment before snorting through her nose.
“You broke his nose ?!” Hearing her words echo through El, Max couldn’t help but giggle too, “That is incredible of you, oh my gosh!”
“Yeah, well… I don’t know. We were complete strangers but the thought of them doing that to you made me mad, I just saw red and then suddenly I had red on my knuckles,” as she spoke, she raised the hand she had punched him with and spun it around to show El the blood and bruising, brandishing her trophy with pride, “pretty sick, right?”
“It’s bitchin’!” In all her excitement, El made a little squeaking noise and grabbed Max’s hand to look at it properly. Despite her sweet exterior, she seemed to have an affinity for tough, badass shit, and that alone made her perfect in Max’s eyes. God, she knew she’d be better than that wet wipe of a ‘boyfriend’.
“You think so…?” With a hushed tone, Max giggled to herself a little as she processed the compliment once more and echoed, “Bitchin’... I like that.”
“‘Bitchin’’ is one of my favourite words to use. I cannot use it in school though, because my teachers tell me off.”
“Teachers are bullshit. They all swear outside of school, and they know teenagers do too. Why’s it so bad if we’re using it to describe something that’s fucking awesome?” Listening to her speak eagerly, El caressed Max’s hand with her thumbs and allowed it to drop from her grasp.
“Teachers… are bullshit.” Noticing a change in El’s tone, Max tilted her head to signify that she was listening. “There is this teacher in my school. She is a lovely lady, but she… gets involved when I get picked on. And then my classmates make it seem like I told her to do that.” She wiped a stray tear from her eye and added, “That caused what you saw today.”
“So that’s where the snitch thing came from? Something that you didn’t even do ?!” Clenching her fists once more, Max lunged to grasp El’s hands and looked her directly in the eyes. She tried not to be distracted by the beautiful speckled shades of brown within her eyes as she spoke through gritted teeth, “You need to fucking destroy those people. I don’t care. It’s revenge and it’s well deserved if they’re going to such levels to ruin you.”
“I mean, yes, but-” her eyes flickered to the door as she whispered, “my boyfriend is here, and I-”
“El, I mean this so politely, but fuck your scrawny little bitch of a boyfriend. What did he do when that just happened to you?”
“He didn’t need to do anything, I understand if he felt confused and he froze-”
“Good for you El, but I don’t.” Standing herself up, she brushed her clothes off and offered a hand to El as she spoke with a softer tone, “Okay, I’m sorry for insulting your boyfriend like that,” she was not sorry, however that was not her point, “and just know, despite my own opinions, you can do whatever you want. Nobody can decide how you deal with situations but you. But if you do choose revenge… I’ll be defending you all the way.” Tugging El up to stand, she squeezed her hand and gave her another smile.
“I’m… I’m going to try something first. Please wait here.” Max gave her an enthusiastic nod and stayed put as El left the closet.
As she re-familiarized herself with the buzz of the rink, she turned to her left and spotted the blur of blonde hair she hoped to see. Shrill laughter left the siren's lips. A deep breath entered El’s lips.
“Angela.” She and her group all turned at El’s beckoning call, giggling as they looked their work up and down once more.
“Uh-oh, look who it is.” As Angela spoke, she side-eyed her friends, who giggled at the presumed telepathy between those who lacked the capacity for basic human decency. All while this happened, Max peered through the blinds of the closet, intending to watch over El in case things went tits up and she needed back up. After all, it had been brought into witness the lengths these assholes would go to literally a few moments prior.
“You ruined my day.” Stepping closer, El pleaded, “I want you to say sorry to me.” To this, Angela looked side to side once more and clasped a hand in front of her heart.
“Oh no, did we embarrass you in front of your boyfriend?”
“Please. I want you to tell my boyfriend that it was all a joke…” swallowing back a regurgitation of tears, she continued, “and that we are really friends.” At the end of it all, if she could avoid an argument and simply amend her day, it could end on a decent note. Perhaps she and Mike could get ice cream or something to make up for the show at the roller rink.
“Or what? You gonna hurt us with your mean stare again?” Pointing at El with the same hand that girl had once used against otherworldly beings, Angela and her friends all giggled among themselves as she spoke in a mocking way, “Sorry you can’t cry to teacher today. I guess you’ll just have to cry to daddy instead.” Even a few of Angela’s friend’s mouths went agape at such a comment. It was clear what she’d follow it up with, so El blocked it out.
“Yeah, well… I don’t know. We were complete strangers but the thought of them doing that to you made me mad, I just saw red and then suddenly I had red on my knuckles… pretty sick, right?”
“It’s bitchin’!”
Red blurred El’s vision entirely. She had seen red before. A few times. It was blinding. You can never hear, see or feel anything until the damage is done.
It tends to worsen the guilt.
But today?
“You need to fucking destroy those people . I don’t care. It’s revenge and it’s well deserved if they’re going to such levels to ruin you.”
Sweet, sweet revenge alright.
Crack!
With full force, El had smacked a roller skate against Angela’s nose, entirely crushing it and knocking her to the floor. Despite critiquing the people who had stood gawking earlier, all Max could do was fucking gawk because oh my god that was so fucking cool .
She got her fucking revenge!
And she broke an asshole's nose! Bad bitches breaking assholes’ noses today!
In an instant, Max burst through the closet door and screamed through her gasps, “El!”
“Max…!” Spinning around, El gave Max a cheeky grin as Max gestured towards her.
“Quick, I’m getting you out of here before people gather!” Understanding in an instant, for the crowds and their whispers had already begun to form, El rushed over to Max and raised her hand for a high five. Perhaps the enthusiastic smack that Max gave El was a little insensitive given the sea of blood behind them, but also, it was behind them, so… “That was bitchin’, El. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“I just remembered my friend’s words, that’s all.” A wide grin tore itself across Max’s face as she grabbed El’s wrist, rushing her towards the fire exit.
“Let’s go. You want ice cream?”
“Yes!” The two rushed from the scene, hand in hand. Adrenaline created by well-served revenge always tasted sweet.