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Suzy’s nightmare begins when one afternoon, the lights in the school store flicker rapidly thrice, then get visibly dimmer.
There’s a part of her that’s tempted to chalk it up to Lisa and whatever black magic she wields to make Suzy’s life worse. Sure, Suzy’s the one sneaking into the school store after Lisa had given her a lifetime ban, but what’s a little rule breaking in the pursuit of knowledge-slash-material for the school paper?
But after a minute or so of panicked breathing and clutching of countertops, Suzy reasons that it's just public schools being the way that public schools are: underfunded and constantly decaying, like deer with prion disease. It’s unfortunate, but expected.
What she doesn’t expect is for Isabel Guerra to come barrelling down into the open doorway (wait, didn't Suzy close that?), bashing head first into her and knocking the both of them into the floor.
“Um, excuse me?!” Suzy yells, caught between distress and outrage. Isabel Guerra, horrid jock, with the nerve to not only induct Maxwell Puckett into her weird little Activity Club, but to catch her in the middle of snooping around in Lisa’s territory and to have really dark shiny hair and now to fall on top of her and breathe her horrid jock breaths right into her face? The audacity of it all!
Isabel opens her dumb mouth to respond, but then the lights flicker again, and in a turn for the worst, they go out entirely. The doors simultaneously swing shut and the two of them are plunged into near-total darkness, lit only by a dim light between the cracks in the doorway and something yellow from within the shelves at the back of the room (probably drugs).
“What are you doing here?!” Suzy all but shrieks, scrambling to her feet. “What did you do!!”
“I thought someth—I mean, I could ask the same of you!” Isabel says as she hoists herself up far too gracefully. “Didn't Lisa threaten to flay you from your scalp to your toenails if you ever came in here again?”
“Please. I am not someone who can be cowed so easily,” Suzy scoffs, trying hard to not mentally picture herself being flayed.
“Right.” Isabel shakes her head and turns to pull on the doors. “Jeez, she clearly wasn't just playing around, these are locked from the inside.”
“They're what?!” Suzy’s mouth gapes. “I—I didn't—oh my god! What the fuck?!” This is all Isabel’s fault, clearly! The timing was too perfect!
“No kidding,” Isabel mutters, pulling out her phone and tapping away at it. “This day has been a mess…”
Suzy is just about to go on a stunning tirade in Isabel’s direction, about how this was all totally her fault and why is Isabel so late after school anyway, and why it was always Isabel who was the major factor whenever something awful (like Suzy having grabbed Jeff that one time) happened to Suzy, but then she stops herself for a second. Isabel’s face, usually contorted into a battle-grin or battle-glare or post-battle-grin, was haggard and grim.
In the many years Suzy has (unfortunately) known Isabel, she’s never seen her so exhausted. It tugs at something in Suzy’s chest, something like…like opportunity. Like a shark smelling blood in the water!
“‘Kay, I've texted Max to come and get us from here, hopefully he’ll be able to bust the doors down or something?” Isabel puts her phone back into her jeans pocket and sighs. “He’s on the other side of the school, but it shouldn't take him too long. Hopefully.”
Suzy crosses her fingers and hopes that something horrible and time-consuming happens to Maxwell on his way over. A member of the Activity Club in a vulnerable state, trapped in close proximity with Suzy for the foreseeable future, and with little chance of outside interference? It's a near-perfect opportunity to finally get real cold hard dirt on that leech they all call a club.
Suzy fixes her expression into something more friendly and smiles at Isabel. “Speaking of Maxwell, actually!! What are you and he doing here so late after school??”
“Um,” Isabel says as she takes a step backwards. “Just some errands for Mr. Spender. Nothing much.”
Aha! The Activity Club’s supervisor! Could he be giving them activities involved enough to keep them on school grounds after the bell rang? It’s a possibility, and likely the most probable one, but Suzy reminds herself to keep her options open. She’s a journalist, not a gossipmonger. “What sorts? Of errands? By any chance?”
Suzy pulls out a stool and perches on top of it, then pulls out another and pats its seat as amicably as she can manage when it's Isabel of all people she has to contend with. Isabel with her perfect hair and friends who like her and who knows what else.
Isabel stares at the stool for longer than is strictly necessary and Suzy adds on, “Come on, you said that Max was on the other side of the school anyway! With any luck, he'll get delayed by like the five other bones he'll break or something. You should get comfy.” She says that last part through gritted teeth.
“Okay, dude,” Isabel says and shrugs as she plops herself down. “If we’re gonna be asking questions, you still haven't answered mine.”
“You huh?”
Isabel fixes Suzy with an expression that's equal parts exasperation and amusement, and Suzy feels her face heat up a notch. “What are you,” says Isabel, pointing at Suzy. “doing here?” She gestures at the rest of the school store with her umbrella.
“You want to go play games with me, is that it?” Suzy drops the act, crossing her arms and pushing her glasses up.
“You got any other ways of passing the time?” Isabel raises both her eyebrows and Suzy can do nothing but bristle as she continues, “So answer the question, you dingus.”
Clearly defeated, Suzy relents. “Lisa took my recording device at some point and I was looking for it.” Suzy dejectedly draws circles into the dust on the countertop. “Are you happy? Are you enjoying humiliating me like this?”
“Hey, slow down, you have a what now?” Isabel somehow maneuvers her way into sitting cross-legged on the stool. “For the Journalism Club?”
“Nuh uh uh! Answer my question now, then ask yours!” Suzy jabs her finger into Isabel’s chest. “Are you having fun? Seeing me so low?”
“I wouldn't put it like that, but sure, I'm having fun talking to you.” Isabel grins. “It's weird how we never talk that much, actually—”
“About whether or not my spy radio was for the Journalism Club!” Suzy cuts Isabel off, suddenly and inexplicably afraid of what she might have said next. “Of course it was for the Journalism Club! For what else??”
Another strange smile makes its way onto Isabel’s face and Suzy has to glance away. “Nothing, nothing. I'm just shocked you guys were allowed to have that.”
“Yeah, well, our advisor is pretty…hands off…” says Suzy, trailing off into bitterness.
“Hah! I totally get that.” Isabel chuckles. "I mean, not exactly, but ours can be pretty distant too."
With a jolt, Suzy suddenly remembers why she's putting up with Isabel in the first place. "Distant"? It's strange how Isabel is now describing Mr. Spender that way, considering how he was apparently involved enough with the club to be giving them direct orders. "...What do you mean by that?" Suzy asks slowly.
Isabel stares at some point over Suzy's shoulder for a long while, and Suzy grumbles, "Whatever, never mind..." Because if there's one thing Suzy can count on Isabel to be, it's being hideously cagey about that shitty little club of hers, but then—
"You ever notice how in class, he doesn't…he doesn’t seem like he’s totally there?” Isabel begins haltingly. “Like he has something better to be doing, or he’s just uninterested in you? Not in like, the way where he’s trying to be mean, but…” She trails off, gripping the side of her seat hard enough that the tendons on her hand stand in stark relief.
Despite her better judgement, her words strike a chord with Suzy. How many times had she been treated as an afterthought by the people she was meant to look up to, by the people who were supposed to be there for her? The Journalism Club had only gotten as far as it had because of countless after-school hours of Suzy trying to make them relevant, and even then, she’s been far from successful. Sure, there’s Collin. But his support is reluctant at the best of times and ineffectual at the worst (and that last part wasn’t even his fault). Suzy doesn’t even know why he bothers to stick around. She’s loath to admit it, but everything she’s done has amounted to nothing if not even the club’s advisor could be made to care, to just help her, even once.
“And like, I get it, I’m not expecting him to be my dad or anything, he has his own life, he shouldn’t have to take care of me all the time or even at all, but I dunno, it’d be nice to have him look out for me in like, an emotional sense? Just once? Ugh, I don’t know anymore...” Isabel continues, mirroring Suzy, growing more agitated the longer she talks.
It’s almost enough for Suzy to not catch onto the weirdly personal way Isabel keeps referring to Mr. Spender, like her and he have something beyond being student and teacher. That more than anything else sets her on edge. What kind of club are they?
“You know, you don't really need him, for the club or for anything else. I mean, look at us. There's definitely some stuff the Journalism club could be doing better with if our advisor gave a damn, but hey, we've survived for pretty long on our own. It's not like you owe him anything." Suzy tries to keep her voice steady, even as she becomes acutely aware of how her and Isabel seem to be sitting a lot closer than they were when they first got locked in here. "Unless he's known you for a while or something?”
“Yeah, sure, he knows my gramps. He's a—family friend." Isabel scratches the back of her head. Her eyes narrow, and with that little change in expression Suzy knows that she just messed up. "What's it to you?"
"Well—it's—it's nothing, I was just—look, am I not allowed to—"
A loud BANG and light abruptly flooding into the room startle Suzy bad enough that she falls off her stool. Sharp pain rockets through her arm as she hits the ground. Suzy barely processes the fact that Isabel had just tried to catch her before Isabel lands in a heap on top of her, having evidently failed at that.
"Not this again!!" Suzy cries right at the same time a figure in the doorway says, "Uh, am I interrupting something?"
"No, Max, you aren't," Isabel groans, heaving herself upwards and offering her hand to Suzy. Suzy vehemently shakes her head no and scuttles backwards.
"I hope not! You're too good for her anyway," Max says blithely as he claps a hand on Isabel's shoulder.
"What is THAT supposed to mean?!!" Suzy yells.
"Isabel, I care about you, and you deserve someone who respects you, cherishes you, and has hobbies outside of stalking—"
"You are dead to me, Max. Dead."
"You think you're so funny," Isabel sighs, not without affection (Not even that long Max has been in that club and already they're close enough that they can insult each other without consequence! Horrible!), and hefts her umbrella over her shoulder. "Come on, let's go talk in the club room." She glances backwards at Suzy. "See you around?"
Something in Suzy's face as well as her indignant silence as an answer make Isabel shoot her an awkward thumbs up and promptly scurry off, her and Max's heads inclined towards each other and trading secretive whispers.
"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up," Suzy mutters as she gets up and brushes herself down. So what if she and Isabel have a few similarities? So what if being around Isabel makes Suzy more prone to error? So what if Isabel makes Suzy feel all nervous and jealous—
Suzy's mental rant comes to a halt when her eyes catch on the shelves in the back of the room, a faint yellow light still glowing from something hidden between the boxes and bottles.
Struck with a sudden suspicion, Suzy strides to the shelves and rummages through them, stopping when her hand bumps into something rectangular and metal, covered in wires. With growing dread, she unplugs and pulls the object out and realizes—it's her spy radio. A sticky note attached to it reads:
Thanks for letting me borrow this. ;)
You can have it back now.
~ Lisa
It takes a while for Suzy to stop screaming.