Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts, weirdly enough, with a broken alarm.

There is no incessant ringing, or Salt-N-Pepa’s Shoop lyrics Uh, here I go, here I go, here I go again blasting loud enough to give anybody partial hearing damage from Jackie’s little alarm clock radio dialed in on the Yellowjackets’ running theme song they chant obnoxiously in the locker room after every win. 

No, there is only blessed silence and Jackie sleeps on. And on. And on. 

Until it’s ten-twelve-on-the-dot and Jackie finally rolls over, squints at her too thin curtains that makes the sunlight blare down searingly through her eyelids, and manages to just barely pull herself up in her bed. 

Her head pounds and her stomach churns wishy-washy with nausea, nursing a hangover from the other night — one that Jackie believes with utmost certainty was earned. 

Because Jackie Taylor had a fight with Shauna Shipman and it had turned nuclear.

Screaming and shouting, hurling insults at each other. They had dug their claws into one another, knowing exactly where to pull to make it hurt the worst because the two of them were JackieandShauna, never apart, never separate, and knew each other like they knew themselves. 

And they had shredded each other to pieces.

Shauna was apparently hooking up with Jackie’s boyfriend, Jeff, who Shauna hates with every fiber of her being — which was true — and had used the defense that Jackie didn’t even like Jeff anyways — which was also true — and seemed to not understand why Jackie was upset.

Jackie had called Shauna a ‘sidekick’ and Shauna had called her ‘insecure’ and she’s ‘only going to peak through high school’. 

Jackie doesn’t even remember half of the things she said to Shauna, or what Shauna had hurled right back, but she does remembering kissing her which—

Yeah.

Sue Jackie for getting wasted after that. Unwilling to unpack whatever it was she had with (ex?) best friend at the moment, she had left the conversation — and a flustered, enraged but also equally turned on Shauna Shipman — and stomped away from one of the party’s host’s guest bedrooms.

She had blacked out eventually and only remembers…someone — maybe Nat? — hauling her wasted ass to Tai and Van, who helped her into Tai’s car before they brought her safely to her house.

She remembers Van hoisting her into her bed, taking off her shoes and clapping a hand on her despondent shoulder, an almost fond, “Get some sleep, Cap” coming from her before she and Tai whisked away and left.

And now she’s here, sitting in her bed, hangover in full motion, with no Salt-N-Pepa’s catchy uh, here I go, here I go, here I go again blasting from her alarm clock, and it’s ten-twelve-on-the-dot.

“Shit,” Jackie sighs.

It’s going to be a horrible day.

(As always, she’s right.)

__

“So you’re saying…I can’t take the test?”

“That’s correct.”

Jackie blinks, trying to process what’s she’s been told. She stares at her English teacher — a cranky, middle aged woman who they’re demanded to call Professor Highwater; no ‘Mrs.’ or ‘Ms.’ because apparently she thinks she’s teaching college students instead of bored-to-death-probably-gonna-skip-most-of-the-days-i-can seniors in high school — and works her mouth, trying to come up with something to say.

“…The door was locked,” Jackie manages to get out. 

“You were late,” Professor — she nearly rolls her eyes — Highwater answers simply.

Jackie swallows, tries to think about how much it hurts her throat. “You…wouldn’t let me in.”

“No, most colleges won’t if you’re late to your class,” Highwater explains, steepling her fingers together and looking at her, wrinkles around the corners of her eyes. “I am simply preparing you for your future, Miss Taylor. You should take this as a lesson learned and you will take the failing grade.”

“I…” Jackie stammers and stops. How could she explain that she was Jackie Taylor and that Jackie Taylor was supposed to be perfect; perfect grades, perfect boyfriend, perfect best friend, perfect figure, perfect life.

Jackie Taylor had to be perfect because if she’s not perfect then she is nothing, not in the eyes of her parents, who want to place her up on a pedestal, all high and pretty-like; a shiny toy to show off.

And a failing test grade in her English class was not perfect.

Her fingers crumple slightly into the blank test paper in her hands.

“Please, Professor, I— I won’t be late again, I just — is there any way I could possibly take this? Please?” Jackie pleads, only vaguely aware her hands are shaking.

“No, my decision is final,” Professor Highwater waves off, turning back to her desk, stacks of completed tests from their earlier period in front of her. “You also need to get your paper signed and brought back so that your parents are aware of your failing grade and that you decided to skip your class.”

“I…I didn’t mean…”

“That is all, Miss Taylor,” Highwater dismisses.

Jackie stares at her for a long moment, swallowing back bile swimming up the back of her throat before she turns and leaves, the door falling shut quietly with a click behind her. Her vision wavers as she glances down at the blank test paper, rumpled a little around the edges where she squeezed too hard, staring at the large, red F circled on the top corner.

“What am I going to do now?” she murmurs to herself, smoothing out a corner of the paper with her thumb absently.

“Hey, Cap, there you are!” Van’s voice echoes the halls. Jackie blinks and looks up from the paper to find Van and Lottie making their way over, obviously on their way to lunch. Van stops short at the sight. “Woah, Jackie, you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks, Van,” Jackie quips back without her usual bite.

“Jackie, are you alright?” Lottie asks, low and concerned, brown eyes peering down at her in worry.

“Oh, yeah, I’m,” Jackie stutters slightly, “great. Just…fantastic.”

Van and Lottie share a look. 

“It…doesn’t sound like you’re great,” Van replies hesitantly, coming up to her, Lottie near her shoulder. “What’s going on with you, Taylor?”

Jackie folds up the test and slips it into her pocket, shaking her head. “Nothing’s bothering me, I’m just tired,” she lies.

Neither of them look convinced if Van’s pinched look and Lottie’s soft, worried eyes are anything to go off by, but both seem to drop it. For now, at least.

“You were pretty wasted last night,” Van pipes up, settling a familiar hand on her shoulder. “Rough morning?”

“My alarm didn’t go off,” Jackie grumbles and lets Van steer her towards the cafeteria, falling in between her and Lottie as if they were shielding her. “I was late to Professor Highwater’s class.”

“Yikes,” Van grimaces in sympathy. 

“That must’ve not went well,” Lottie muses.

Jackie laughs bitterly. “Nope. Not at all.”

Lottie and Van share another glance over Jackie’s shoulders.

“So, what happened between you and Shipman?” Van asks when they round a corner, the cafeteria doors on their left.

Jackie stiffens. “Uh,” she says intelligently. She glances over at them, finding curious eyes staring right back. “Just a small disagreement,” she settles on.

“Right,” Van says, clearly not buying anything coming out of Jackie’s mouth this afternoon. “A small disagreement which led to you getting blackout drunk last night and Shipman looking like she might actually murder someone this time when she stepped into our first class.”

Jackie winces, guilt churning her stomach. But she banishes it as quickly as she can because why should she be the one feeling guilty? Shauna is the one who fucked her boyfriend.

(“Oh, is the little sidekick upset?”

“—nobody can see how tragic, insecure, and boring you really are!”)

Yeah, no, Jackie is not going to apologize. It’s not her fault that Shauna fucked up. 

(Tragic, insecure, and boring.

Is that really what Shauna thinks of her?)

Jackie swallows, mouth dry. Suddenly, walking into the cafeteria is the last thing she wants to do. 

But, Jackie thinks, venomously, not going is like losing. 

And Jackie Taylor does not like losing.

So, she takes a deep breath and steels her nerves and marches inside, not seeing the way Lottie and Van glance at each other again behind her before following after her. Immediately, she almost regrets her choice in going as the smells around her make her gag, swallowing back the sick traveling up her throat.

She ignores the food line and walks over towards the Yellowjacket’s table — they had claimed it the first year they formed their team; it had taken Jackie two months trying to wrangle her whole team there because they were stubborn assholes — and sits down at her usual chair. 

She glances around and finds them all staring between her and Shauna — who’s claimed Nat’s usual seat to put two chairs between them — and Jackie, who frowns at Shauna, who doesn’t glance her way.

Nat, disgruntled and pissed off; like a cat being kicked off their favorite table by its owner, is settled in Lottie’s usual chair, biting harshly down on a pen so hard Jackie’s afraid she might just break it and accidentally get a mouthful of ink.

Lottie slides into Shauna’s seat, right beside her so she’s sandwiched between Jackie and Nat. Van plops down into her usual seat beside Tai across from them, who turns towards her and gestures around them as if asking, Do you see this shit that’s happening right now?

Van nods sagely, patting Tai’s hand. I know, her eyes say, dramatically. I know.

Lottie opens her lunchbox and produces an orange that she slides over to Nat, who pauses in her destruction of the pen, and reaches for, observing it wordlessly, pen gently dangling between her teeth.

Tai shoves the cafeteria’s plate of mashed potatoes and some strange looking meat — seriously, was it even meat? Jackie doesn’t know —drizzled in gravy towards Van, who instantly starts digging in.

“Jackie, are you not going to eat?” Lottie asks, all heavy with concern and soft brown eyes.

Jackie grimaces at the thought. “No thanks. I ate before I got here,” she says, which is a lie because she had taken one look at the time of ten-twelve-on-the-dot on her clock and had rushed like a maniac to freshen up and not look like a complete zombie when she walked in late to school.

Lottie frowns at her but nods, removing the foil around a sandwich and taking a bite. Jackie takes the time to glance over at Shauna again to find her plate already half empty and a book in her hands. To her surprise, her eyes meet dark ones, who are already staring back at her before Shauna jerks away and back down to her book.

Jackie huffs and glances down at the tabletop, tapping her nail against the surface. “So, we’re apparently working with JV today,” she says after a long moment of silence.

There are instant protests.

“No!”

“Not them!”

“They’re horrible,” Tai grumbles.

Jackie nods. “Yeah, that’s probably why Coach has us to schedule a joined practice with them.”

“At least we get to make fun of— gah, Scattorcio, you ass!” Van shrieks halfway through, batting away orange peels that Nat’s settled on throwing at her.

Nat barks out a laugh, on the edge of being a cackle.

Lottie simply just takes another bite of her sandwich, canines tearing into it.

“We should probably do some drills — shooting, passing because, they need to work on all of it,” Tai points out.

Jackie hums and ignores Van and Nat’s battle of throwing orange peels at each other across the table like a couple of hooligans. “You’re right,” she concedes. “We can split up and make different sections of the field focus on one of the drills.”

“For the drills we should probably use the right side of the field because—”

__

Things were going good. After lunch, Jackie finished her other classes off without a hitch and then went to field. They went through their usual warmups before the JV team piles out — “You’re ten minutes late!” Tai had barked at them and Jackie had watched, worryingly satisfied, as they all cowered back at Tai’s fierce glare — and they had set about to practice different drills. 

So, of course, Jackie shouldn’t have been surprised when this disaster day went for a turn for the worst. Again.

Jackie doesn’t even know exactly what happens for a moment because all she hears is a scream of, “Watch out!” and she turns, ready to warn whoever is in danger with the others before she realizes she’s the one in danger.

The soccer ball slams into her face, right in her nose and her body buckles under the force. She hits the ground, air knocked from her lungs and her ears ring and she can’t see anything.

“Holy shit!”

“Oh my god!”

There’s the pounding of footsteps before the grass is kicked up to her side and warm hands cradle her face. “Jackie, Jackie, open your eyes,” comes a trembling voice and oh, that’s why she can’t see.

Jackie blinks her eyes open and flinches at the bright sun now overhead of her, a pained whine bubbling from her throat. 

“Hey, hey,” the same voice murmurs and turns her head to the side. “Jackie, look at me.”

Jackie does and finds Lottie above her, eyes blown wide and hands warm and comforting — when’s the last time someone touched her that wasn’t aimed to belittle? — and suddenly someone crouches down beside her on the other side and she sees Van’s fiery red hair.

“Oh, shit,” Van mutters, equally panicked eyes taking in her face and Jackie wants to know why they keep looking at her and why her face feels soaked. “That doesn’t look good.”

Shouts explode to the side, loud and angry.

“What the fuck was that?!” comes Nat’s enraged voice. 

“Nat, Natalie, don’t— stop!” That’s Tai, Jackie thinks.

“No, this fucker just hit Jackie!” 

Van lets out a curse as she looks over her shoulder and Jackie tries to look over, too, because she thinks her team might be murdering someone in broad daylight on their soccer field but black spots explode in her vision when she tries to and she chokes on a whimper.

“Shh, shh, it’s going to be okay,” Lottie soothes, gently hands wiping at something on her face. “Don’t try to move yet.”

There’s a lot more cursing and yelling before Tai shouts, “Shauna, no!” and there’s a shriek of terror and a howl of shock. “Shauna, that’s enough!” Tai barks out. And then, gentler, “Jackie needs you. Calm down. Get your shit together.” A pause. “Both of you, go.”

Jackie blinks and she doesn’t know she’s dozing off until Van presses a hand into her shoulder. “Don’t go sleeping on us, yet, Cap,” she jokes, though it wavers like a broken record.

Jackie mumbles something unintelligible but does as she says, squinting through the pain in her face — it feels awkward, like her face is too swollen or too big to properly work. She realizes she must’ve blacked out for a bit because there’s Shauna and Nat around her, too. Nat has bitten through her lip — it’s bright red and looks really sore — and Shauna looks halfway between spooked animal and rabid beast.

“Do you think it’s safe to move her?” Lottie asks and removes her hands before Jackie whines again and places them back on her cheeks, gentle and warm and soothing. 

“…I think so,” Nat speaks up slowly. “Maybe.” She crouches down. “We need to make sure nothing else is damaged first.”

“Okay, okay,” Van murmurs before turning back to Jackie. “Jackie, honey, what hurts?”

“‘m face,” she slurs. “I think my face is broken.”

“Does anything else hurt?” Nat asks.

Jackie thinks for a moment. She wiggles her toes and twitches her fingers. “…No,” she answers at last.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Van says. She holds up her hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Jackie stares at her for a long while. Four, you’re holding four, she thinks but what comes out of her mouth is a whimper of, “Your hair’s on fire.”

Van blinks. 

Nat snorts a little bit, though she eyes her worriedly.

“Definitely concussed,” Shauna mutters. 

“Shauna,” Jackie croaks out and tries to hold out her hand for her but her arm just kind of flops against her stomach instead.

But Shauna seems to get the message and grabs her hand gently, calloused hands gripping onto hers tightly. There’s still anger there, under her skin and behind her irises, whether it’s towards Jackie or towards whoever she just tried to kill on the field earlier is questionable, but it’s buried deep, pushed aside because Jackie is hurt and Jackie needs her.

“Jax,” Shauna says, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay.”

It’s not, Jackie thinks and tries to grasp why. It’s not it’s not it’s not.

“—okay, what’s the situation?” comes Tai’s voice, suddenly and jarring. She comes to a stop, trying to catch her breath as she settles beside Lottie — she must’ve been sending the JV team away because she doesn’t hear anyone else on the field.

“She’s concussed,” Van says. 

“Shit,” Tai mutters. She eyes her. “It’s just a concussion?”

“Yeah, we think so,” Shauna answers.

“Okay, okay,” Tai mumbles. She glances at them all before nodding. “Alright, we need to get her to the nurse’s office.”

“How?” Van asks.

“We carry her,” Tai answers. “Support her head, try to keep her body even.”

“Shit, okay, okay,” Van murmurs more to herself. 

“Who’s going where?” Nat asks. 

“Someone needs to grab the doors for us,” Tai explains. “Here— Lottie, you have the steadiest hands, so you support Jackie’s head.”

Lottie blinks, looking torn between doing as told and questioning Tai on how she knew that. But, clearly, Jackie’s safety comes first and she manuevers herself, hands slipping from Jackie’s face to cup the back of her head and her neck. 

“Okay, Nat, you and Van hold her sides — yeah, like that,” Tai orders.

Warm hands press under her ribs, arms curving around Jackie’s to keep hers from falling. 

“And I’ll get her legs,” Tai says.

Shauna frowns. “Wait, I can—”

“Shauna, you get the doors,” Tai demands.

Shauna makes a face, on the border of being angry and displeased. “Tai—”

“Shauna,” Tai interrupts. “Your hands are shaking.”

Jackie glances down at where Shauna still holds her hand between her own and finds that, yes, Shauna’s hands are shaking. Small tremors run up and down, making them tremble.

“The last thing you want to do is accidentally drop her,” Tai points out. “Her safety comes first, right?”

They stare each other down for a small moment before Shauna relents reluctantly, sliding her hands from Jackie’s and stepping back. “Fine.”

“Okay,” Tai says, turning towards the others. “On three. One, two, three.”

Jackie gasps as she jolted off the ground and hoisted into the air. They waver for moment, gasping. 

“Holy shit, that was easier than I expected,” Van says.

“A little too easy,” Tai comments.

Nat makes a face. Jackie doesn’t understand the sudden glances they all shoot each other before they’re moving. There are hands everywhere, on her sides and gripping her ankles and cupping her head and the back of her neck. They’re warm and Jackie is torn between wanting to lean into them or trying to run away from them.

It makes her skin crawl and her chest warm and she can’t decide if she likes it or she hates it.

They carry her through the doors into the school, maneuvering her around the corners of the nearly empty hallways, before Shauna throws the door to the nurse’s office open, making it hit the wall before she braces it with her foot.

“What in the name of — why did you—” the nurse sputters before Jackie is hauled into the room and her jaw snaps shut. “Sit her here,” she suddenly says, all professional-like and gestures towards the cot closest to them.

They grunt and lift her up more before gently settling her down on the cot. Jackie flinches as the nurse leans over her suddenly, a bright light shining into her eyes. “Dilated pupils, adversion to light,” the nurse mumbles to herself. “Definitely concussed.” She whirls on the girls. “What happened?”

“A soccer ball hit her,” Tai explains, crossing her arms.

Shauna and Nat’s face darken at the reminder, looking three seconds away from hunting down the one who had kicked the soccer ball in the first place. Jackie’s eyes drift towards Lottie and she freezes at the sight of blood staining her hands.

My blood, Jackie thinks in realization. That’s why my face feels so wet. I’m covered in blood.

She feels queasy suddenly at the thought and she must’ve looked horrible because suddenly they’re all eyeing her. 

“Are you feeling sick, dear?” the nurse asks. “Do you think you’re going to throw up?”

Jackie shakes her head before realizing how bad of an idea that is and a pained noise tears through her throat and she tries to curl into herself. 

“Don’t do that,” the nurse says.

No shit, Jackie wants to bite back. But she doesn’t because then she really does think she would vomit. And she’s in her jersey. She doesn’t want to stain it. At least, not with puke of all things.

The nurse makes her sit up slightly, leaned against some pillows and wipes her face free of blood. Jackie hisses when she dabs a cut on the bridge of her nose and a small one along her forehead with disinfectant before putting butterfly tape on them to keep them from opening again. 

In the end, Jackie’s face hurts more than it did once the shock mostly wore off and she’s exhausted.

“You need to leave,” the nurse says bluntly as she turns to the girls — who were watching diligently by her sides as if acting like guard dogs, eyes darting from Jackie to the nurse, narrowed and protective — once she’s finished with Jackie’s injuries. 

“What?”

“No way!”

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“Enough!” the nurse snaps, waving a hand. Nat tenses up and Lottie takes half a step in front of her. Jackie squeezes her eyes closed. “She needs silence and rest to recover. I’m going to call her parents to pick her up and you five need to leave.”

Jackie pales. “Wh- what?”

“What is it, dear?”

“You’re calling my p- parents?”

“Yes, they need to come pick you up. You’re also not going to be coming to school tomorrow. Doctor’s orders.”

Jackie feels sick.

“…Okay,” she whispers and closes her eyes again.

There’s a lot of angry muttering before a hand comes and rests on her head, smoothing her hair. “We’ll see you in a couple of days, okay? Call if you need anything,” Lottie’s voice says above her.

“M’kay,” Jackie replies.

She keeps her eyes closed, even when their footsteps eventually reluctantly fade away and the door clicks shut behind them. Jackie turns on her side and curls up on the cold cot. The nurse flicks the lights off and leaves the room.

Selfishly, she wishes the girls were still there.

But they’re not. It’s just Jackie, cold and alone in a dark room.

(Just like it always is.)

Chapter Text

“Dear, your mom is here to take you home.”

Jackie peels her eyes open and finds the nurse hovering over her. She lets out a broken groan, pressure pounding in her head and between her temples. A hand comes out towards her and she flinches away from it with a frown, squinting at the nurse. 

The nurse blinks at her, slightly shocked.

“…No touching,” Jackie grumbles and very slowly sits herself up, pausing and taking a breath when her stomach lurches at the movement. She presses a hand to her mouth, clamping her jaw closed and taking small breaths, riding out the nausea.

“Do you think you need this?” the nurse asks and Jackie looks over at her to see she’s now holding up a bucket.

Jackie squeezes her eyes closed and shakes her head slightly enough that the message gets across and the nurse puts the bucket down back on the ground. She waits for a moment before moving, pressing her feet to the ground and sliding off the cot.

She stands up and wobbles, knees almost buckling before the nurse grabs her arm to keep her from falling. Jackie tenses up at the touch, her skin crawling, but she doesn’t shove off her hand this time. 

Together, they take careful steps towards the door. Jackie shields her eyes and squints at the bright lights overhead from the hallway as they step out. She finds her mother standing there waiting for her, arms crossed and face blank.

Their eyes meet.

Her mother’s face pinches the longer she stares at her and Jackie tries to straighten up more, fighting back the urge to fidget.

“…Jaqueline,” her mother states, a bit coldly.

Jackie swallows roughly. “Hi, mom.”

Her mother turns away from her, giving her attention to the nurse who passes over a bottle of Tylenol, listing off things she should be aware of: no advil or ibuprofen until after the first twenty four hours. Vomiting, dizziness, and headaches are a common symptoms. Avoid lights and loud noises for at least the first day. Get plenty of rest. No strenuous activities.

Jackie zones out and blinks to find her mother closer to her, a sharp grip on her arm keeping her from moving away. She tenses up, eyes flickering to the side to find her mother staring at her, displeased. “Let’s go, Jaqueline.”

“Get better, dear,” the nurses calls out and Jackie gives her a wane smile,

“I will.”

__

“I knew letting you sign up for that sports team was a bad idea,” her mother rants.

Jackie sighs, cheek pressed against the car’s window. “It was an accident,” she mumbles.

“Well, that accident just ruined your face,” her mother snaps, shoulders tense as her grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“It’ll heal, honestly, Mom,” Jackie huffs out. She shuts her eyes closed, the movement of the car and the blurs of color outside making her nauseous. “…It’s not that bad.”

Her mother laughs, fake and bitter. “The bridge of your nose and your forehead are split open.”

“They’re small,” Jackie defends weakly.

“You can’t hide them,” she counters.

Jackie stays quiet.

Her mother scoffs. “If you hadn’t been so adamant about that soccer team of yours—”

“Mom,” Jackie says, voice weary, “I’m tired. Can we talk about this another time?”

Her mother doesn’t say anything after that. 

Jackie drifts off.

__

“What happened to your face?” is the first thing her father asks when they step inside. Jackie doesn’t answer and simply goes upstairs to her room. Distantly, she hears, “What happened to her face?”

“It’s all because of all of those sports nonsense she likes,” her mother says, voice stiff and angry. “Honestly, Richard, a girl her age really shouldn’t be associated with such things.”

“Susan, honey, take a breath,” her father tries to placate. “I’m sure it was an accident—”

“There shouldn’t have been an ‘accident’ in the first place!” her mother snaps. “These— these things are going to ruin her! It was a mistake letting her—”

Jackie shuts her door, muffling the argument. Her head pounds and she winces, fingertips skimming the tape along her forehead. She drops her hand and sighs, shuffling more into her room and falling on her bed.

The Tylenol is still downstairs with her mother and she really doesn’t want to face her again — not yet, at least.

Jackie turns and grabs the closest pillow to her — it’s a pink and red floral print and she recognizes it instantly as the one Shauna claims every time they happen to sleep over at her house.

She squeezes it tight to her chest and dozes off.

__

Jackie wakes up and looks out her window to see the sun dipping down over the horizon. She groans and rolls over, sees the time on her alarm clock as nine-thirty at night. She sits up and tightens her jaw as her stomach lurches.

Suddenly, she throws herself to her feet and races to the bathroom connected to her bedroom and falls to her knees, not noticing the pain in crashing them to the sterile tiles of the floor, and vomits up sour, yellow bile.

“Oh god,” Jackie chokes out and gags, wrinkling her nose. She reaches over flimsily and flushes the toilet, leaning back and laying down for a moment, pressing her aching head against the cold tile, letting out a breath.

“Jaqueline, what’s going on in there?” her father’s voice asks outside of her bedroom door, rapping his knuckles against it.

Jackie takes another breath and pushes herself up, anchoring herself to her sink. “Nothing, I’m fine!” she calls out. She looks into the mirror and winces at the sight: her nose is bruised purple and the two cuts on her face are bright red and aching.

“Your mother and I need to talk to you about something,” her father says suddenly.

Jackie blinks. “Okay, give me a sec!” She shakily brushes her teeth to get the disgusting sour taste out of her mouth before washing her hands and stepping out. She opens the door and finds her father staring down at her, brows furrowed slightly. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“Come on, down stairs,” her father says instead.

Perplexed, Jackie follows him down to find her mother sitting at the kitchen table, a piece of paper in front of her. Her eyes dart up to stare at Jackie right when she steps into the room, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

“What is this, Jaqueline?” her mother asks, cold.

Jackie frowns and looks closer at the paper. She sees the large circled, red F before she realizes it’s the test from Professor Highwater that she had been given a failing grade. “I—” she starts, sounding strangled. “Mom, I—”

“A failing grade,” her mother comments, disbelieving. “How does my daughter have a failing grade?”

“It was— the teacher wouldn’t let me take it,” Jackie stammers.

“And why is that?” her mother hisses. “Why would she do that?”

“I was, um, I was late,” Jackie admits quietly. “I was late to her class and she wouldn’t let me in.”

Her mother closes her eyes. “Jaqueline—”

“I was only late for a couple of minutes!” Jackie desperately tries to gasp out. “Honest, I was right there and she locked the door on me—”

“Enough,” her mother says sharply. Jackie’s mouth shuts with a snap. She opens her eyes and Jackie tenses up at the anger in them. “This isn’t how you normally act. What’s going on with you, Jacqueline?”

“I’m…” Jackie thinks of Shauna, of the hateful words they hurled at each other and how she had kissed her. She thinks of how she turned to alcohol instead of wanting to think of it, of how she got herself wasted enough that the girls had to bring her home. She thinks of every horrible thing that’s happened earlier this day, of the girls helping carry her to the nurse’s office while she was too dizzy to properly think. “I’m dealing with some things,” she settles on after a moment.

“Well, deal with them better. Honestly, Jacqueline,” her mother sighs. “You’re better than this.”

(Insecure, boring, and tragic.)

(You’re better than this.)

Am I?

Jackie flinches.

“I—”

“Is it those girls on your team?” her mother guesses. Jackie tenses up, eyes widening slightly. “I always knew they were such bad influences — except for that Shuana girl, what a sweetheart. You could learn a thing or two from her, Jacqueline. I doubt she’s ever failed a test.”

“They’re not—”

“And Jeff came by a few days ago,” her mother goes on. “Apparently, he’s worried about you. Says you haven’t been spending much time with him.”

Jackie scoffs. He fucked my best friend, I’m glad I brushed him off, she thinks venomously.

“—need to be more thankful,” her mother rants. “He’s such a nice boy. He doesn’t deserve you ignoring him like this.”

The ache in her head pounds stronger than before.

Her mother keeps ranting and ranting and ranting and her father is completely silent, watching. Her thoughts spiral, from Jeff to Shauna to the party to earlier today to the nurse’s office.

“I’m breaking up with him!” Jackie bursts out. 

Any other time, she’d have laughed at her mother’s flabbergasted face, at her wide eyes and dropped mouth. But she feels sick and her head hurts and her heart is pounding and she’s just really, really tired still.

“I’m breaking up with Jeff,” Jackie repeats, calmer.

“Why?”

“It just won’t work out,” Jackie answers. “I’ve known for a while, but…it just won’t. I don’t feel anything for him.”

And it’s true. Shauna had been right, she doesn’t even like Jeff.

“It’s not always about feeling, Jacqueline,” her mother says, standing up. “Sometimes you just have to make sacrifices to lead a good life.”

Jackie frowns. “What?”

“You’re a Taylor,” her mother says, like it’s something that’s supposed to be sacred. “We lead good lives. We marry, we have children, we prosper. That’s our job, Jaqueline.”

“Our—” Jackie laughs. “Our job? My life isn’t a job—”

“You have a mantle to take up. You’re a Taylor. And Taylor’s do not fail.” Her mother becomes slightly frantic, “You are a Taylor woman. We marry a good man and have children and guide them so they also will have a good life. That’s just what we do. We don’t fail and we don’t participate in those silly little boys’ things you like—”

“Maybe I don’t want that,” Jackie whispers. “Maybe that’s not my life—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jacqueline—”

“No!” Jackie interupts. “Why can’t you just listen to me for once?! I don’t want that! That’s not my life! Maybe it never will be—”

“You see, Richard?” her mother asks, gesturing towards Jackie. “See what that team has done to her? See what those girls have been feeding to her?”

Her father simply crosses his arms. He doesn’t say anything. Just like he always does.

“Stop talking like I’m not here!” Jackie shouts. Her head hurts. “I’m right here. Why can’t you just talk to me normally?”

“I’ll talk to you normally once you stop all of this nonsense,” her mother snaps. “Once you realize that is just how life is—”

“You know what I think?” Jackie cuts her off. “I think you’re so unsatisfied by your life that you want to shape mine into yours, too. I think you’re so fucking miserable that you just want to make me miserable with you—”

“You—”

“You’re a sad excuse of a mother,” Jackie spits out.

Her head jerks to the side.

For a moment, Jackie doesn’t know what’s happened until her ears stop ringing and the sting in her cheek registers. She lets out a small gasping breath and touches the side of her face, wincing at the pain. 

She slowly lifts her head to look at her mother, who drops her hand. 

“Don’t you ever talk to me that way again,” her mother seethes.

Jackie blinks and wipes at her lip, smearing blood from her split lip. She looks at her mother, then her father. Their arguing isn’t something new, not even close, but nobody has ever hit her.

She waits for her father to say something. She waits for her mother to apologize.

She waits.

Nothing happens.

Jackie turns and runs out of the front door.

Nobody calls back for her.

(She hates that she had hoped one would have.)

__

The air is cold.

It’s the first thing Jackie thinks after a long while, after she’s sprinted away and past her street. She had ran until she had almost vomited from the dizziness and had settled into a walk instead.

Goosebumps prickle her bare arms. 

She stares down at her feet. She makes sure to take one step after another.

It’s cold, she thinks again.

How could they do that? is her second thought.

She’s fought with her mother plenty of times throughout the years. They had screamed and argued and insulted each other enough that it’s usually almost a dance between them. A familiar, tiring dance. But a dance nonetheless.

But…

She had hit her. Her mother had raised a hand against her. 

And she didn’t regret it.

There had been no regret or remorse on her mother’s face.

She had simply hit her like it was nothing. Like it didn’t even matter.

(Like Jackie didn’t matter—)

Jackie jolts as something warm slides down her cold face. She blinks and wipes at her cheeks.

Oh, she realizes. I’m crying.

Jackie sniffles.

How is this fair? she rages. 

How is it fair that she’s here, crying out on the street while her mother is the one back at the house, back in the warmth with no guilt on her mind?

It’s not fair. It’s not fair—

She catches herself before she falls when she trips a little bit. She pauses and takes a deep breath, pressing her palms against her eyelids. She thinks of going to Shauna’s, but the memory of their fight (their kiss) and the awkward Jeff-shaped problem between them stops her before she could turn around and set off towards her street.

“This sucks,” Jackie mutters. “This fucking sucks.”

Her voice almost breaks into a sob.

Another breeze hits and she shivers.

“Jackie?”

Jackie startles and her hands fall from her face. She looks at the girl in front of her. “Nat?” she croaks out.

Nat stares back, eyes wide. “Jackie?” she repeats, like she’s not sure she’s hallucinating or not. When Jackie doesn’t move, she steps forward, brows furrowed. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jackie snarks tearfully.

Nat narrows her eyes. “Like you’re crying on the sidewalk in the middle of the night.” She suddenly stares at her face, something darkening in her expression. “Jackie, what happened?”

It piles up the back of her throat, suffocating and tight. She stares at Nat and remembers the way she had heard her yelling earlier, how Nat was undoubtedly ready to avenge her when she had been hurt on the field. She thinks of how warm her hands had been on her like the others, how safe she had felt underneath the dizziness and confusion and pain of her concussion.

She looks at Nat and finds someone she could trust.

“Um,” Jackie starts and twists at the bottom of her shirt with her fingers. “My, uh, parents aren’t…” She swallows, throb bobbing. “I can’t go home,” she whispers. “And Shauna is mad at me and she needs space even- even if she won’t say it, I know and— and I don’t want her to feel obligated… I just— I can’t— I have nowhere to go.”

Nat blinks at her a few times before she sighs heavily. “Goddamnit, Taylor,” she mutters harshly before she looks at her, almost angrily. “Let’s go. I can’t leave you out here on your own and something happen to you. Shipman would kick my ass.”

Jackie smiles wobbly and reaches out, carefully, and curls her fingers into Nat’s sleeve. “Thank you,” she says softly, thankfully despite the small tear tracks on her face. 

“Whatever,” Nat bites out, but doesn’t pull away from Jackie’s grip on her jacket.

Nat turns and starts to walk. Jackie keeps her grip on her sleeve, walking beside her. “Where are we going?” she asks quietly.

Nat looks at her from the corner of her eye. “We’re going to Lottie’s.”

“Why?”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Because you can’t go home and I’m sure as fuck not taking you to my house.”

Despite her callous words, Jackie isn’t offended. “I trust you,” she mumbles instead.

Nat doesn’t say anything.

But, if she steps closer to Jackie, nobody points it out.

Chapter Text

“What were you doing out here at night?” Jackie asks, hand on Nat’s sleeve as they walk down the sidewalk towards Lottie’s street. 

“Just out,” Nat answers briskly, her shoulders tensing.

Jackie purses her lips and winces when she realizes that wasn’t a good idea when it was split. “…Really?” she pushes, turning her head to look at Nat more properly, who, in turn, purposefully didn’t glance over.

“Yeah, really,” Nat says, huffing. She looks like she wants to run away, but she doesn’t, letting Jackie keep her grip on her jacket, as if sensing she needed something to ground her to the earth.

Jackie stares at her, taking in the dark circles under her green eyes that Nat’s tried to hide with cheap concealer and how her hair is a little more ruffled than normal — a sign she’s been running a hand through it recently; a frustrated tic. “You know,” she starts, voice light, “I won’t judge.” Nat raises an eyebrow at her, unimpressed, and Jackie scoffs. “Do I look like I’m in the condition to judge?” She sweeps a hand over her hazard appearance.

Nat snorts. “You look like shit.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Jackie teases.

“I thought you were the Captain?”

“And don’t you forget it,” Jackie tosses back.

Nat’s lips twitch upwards slightly. Jackie lets the subject drop, the silence taking back over them.

Nat suddenly sighs. “…I had to get out of the trailer for a bit.”

Jackie hums, showing she’s listening.

“She’s just so—” Nat stops herself, clenching her jaw. “She’s just fucking pathetic.”

“Your mom?” Jackie asks softly.

Nat nods, the action jerky. “I can’t fucking stand her.” She spits the words out like they’re poison, like she’s been waiting for years to admit it, like it’s wretched from the deepest, darkest parts of her soul.

Jackie shoves back the “I’m sorry” that automatically bubbles up her throat because she knows Nat would lash out if she did because she would think Jackie’s pitying her even though she’s not. She considers her options before she settles on mutual understanding, “I think I could hate my mom.”

The words are swift and jumbled. She’s scared to say it, scared of how true they are — because they fight every day. They fight and Jackie is always tired in the end. And she knows, despite all of this, that she should love her mom — she knows she does in some twisted form — but she thinks she could hate her, too.

(Which is stronger?)

(She doesn’t know.)

Nat blinks a few times before she glances at her, eyes drawn towards her cheek which is no doubt still blistering red and starting to bruise, then at the blood smeared on her chin. She huffs a little bit, “Welcome to the club, Taylor.”

Jackie smiles a little bit. “Thanks, Scatorccio.”

Nat’s lips curl up in response. “No problem, princess.”

__

Jackie only lets go of Nat’s sleeve when they reach Lottie’s porch. Nat walks up like she owns the place and knocks on the door. Loudly.

Jackie flinches at the sound and Nat side eyes her, rapping her knuckles softer. “Lot, let us in! It’s fucking freezing!”

There’s shuffling from the inside before the door swings open and Lottie blinks down at them, as if confused on what’s in front of her. “Nat? Jackie?” 

“About damn time, Matthews,” Nat says, clicking her tongue and quite literally ducks under Lottie’s arm to go inside.

Jackie sighs before smiling at Lottie, watching as brown eyes zero in on her busted up face. “Hey, Lottie.”

“Jackie,” Lottie greets again and steps aside. Jackie walks into the house and Lottie closes the door behind them. “Jackie, what are you doing here? And what happened to your face?”

“Uh, got hit with a soccer ball, remember?” Jackie asks.

Lottie rolls her eyes. “I meant the very distinct hand print on your face.”

“Oh,” Jackie breathes out, like she hadn’t had a clue. “About that…”

“Lottie, where’d you put the bagels this time?” Nat calls out.

Lottie laughs a little bit despite the seriousness in her eyes and gestures towards the kitchen. “Let’s talk somewhere else, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Jackie stammers a little bit and follows after Lottie to the kitchen. Jackie finds Nat rummaging through the cabinets, grumbling to herself, a container of onion and cream cheese already set on the table.

Nat turns towards them and crosses her arms. “Matthews, what the fuck did you do with the bagels?”

Lottie walks passed her and opens a cabinet and reaches at the top shelf like it’s nothing and drags down a bag of bagels. “Here.”

Nat snatches them and squints at her. “Why’d you put them up there?”

“Because you can’t reach the top shelf and eat all of my bagels,” Lottie answers, straight-faced.

“You little bitch,” Nat laughs.

Lottie lights up at the sound, a pleased smile gracing her face. Jackie snorts at them and settles on one of the chairs. Nat practically tears the package open as Lottie reaches for the paper towels, ripping off a couple and setting them on the table.

Nat sets two out on the paper towels, grabbing the butter knife Lottie hands her and gets to smearing the cream cheese on the bagels.

“So, what happened?” Lottie asks, settling her attention back on Jackie.

Jackie clears her throat. “My mom and I got in a…disagreement.”

“A disagreement?” Lottie repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, yep,” Jackie stutters a little bit.

“…A disagreement that led you to having a hand print on your face?” Lottie asks, face solemn.

Jackie glances away from her, not wanting to look into those soft brown eyes.

“One half or a whole?” Nat suddenly asks.

Jackie startles and looks at her. “What?”

Nat gestures towards the bagels. “A half or a whole, Taylor, it’s not that difficult.”

Jackie’s mouth runs dry. “…Neither,” she says. “I’m good. I’m not hungry—”

“You didn’t eat lunch,” Lottie points out. 

“And how much do you want to bet you didn’t eat when you got home?” Nat adds, fixing her a strangely stern stare, eyes steely.

Jackie tenses up like a spooked animal, eyes darting away from them and towards the door, like she’s going to run away. “I, uh…”

A warm hand settles over hers and Jackie jumps in her seat, whirling around with wide eyes. Lottie leans towards her, worried. “How about just a half? You can’t heal properly without food, Jack.”

Jack.

Jackie lets out a slow breath at the nickname they haven’t used in a long, long time and relaxes in her chair. She nods slowly. “…Okay,” she whispers.

Lottie squeezes her hand. “Thank you, Jack.”

Nat wordlessly slides over half of a bagel, smeared with onion cream cheese. She picks it up and forces herself to take a bite of it. Despite herself, it tastes good and she takes another with little less reluctance.

She’s actually really hungry. 

Lottie smiles and Nat hides hers by taking a bite of her own bagel. They’re quiet for a long while and Nat finishes her bagel and Jackie manages to swallow down her half of one.

Jackie stares down at the paper towel before her, counting the crumbs littered on it and feels her stomach lurch. She’s so hungry, so, so hungry, but the thought, the voice — her mother’s voice — reminds her,

(“You want to be pretty. Skinny is pretty. Nobody would want you if you’re not skinny, Jacqueline—”)

(“Maybe you should skip dinner tonight—”)

(“I think you’ve gained some weight, perhaps—”)

“Jack.”

Jackie startles when a hand settles on her shoulder suddenly. She tenses up and looks over to find Lottie at her side now, concern written on her face. Brown eyes flicker over her, a crease in her brows. “How about you and Nat go to the living room while I go grab a medical kit, okay?”

Jackie wordlessly nods and Lottie squeezes her shoulder — it’s so warm, so fucking warm (safe) — before releasing her, tossing her one last worried glance over her shoulder before she goes upstairs.

“Come on, Taylor,” Nat says and Jackie pretends she doesn’t see the way she stares at her, frowning like Lottie had been. She simply follows Nat into the living room, settling on the plush leather couch, sinking in the cushions. 

She tugs at the hem of her jersey and realizes suddenly and swiftly that she hasn’t showered or changed clothes all day since before practice.

“Here.” 

Jackie blinks and finds Lottie back, balancing a rag, a water bottle, a medical kit, and an ice pack all in her arms, wincing a little when she drops them on the coffee table, making it clatter. 

“Sorry,” Lottie apologizes, catching the flash of pain on Jackie’s face. She crouches down, grabbing the wet rag. “Here. Tilt your chin up a little.”

Jackie does as told and Lottie’s fingers press against her jaw, keeping her still when she flinches when the rag brushes against the split in her lip. 

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” Lottie murmurs softly, wiping away the blood on her chin and dabbing at the cut.

“‘s not that bad,” Jackie manages to get out despite Lottie’s hold. “It only stings a little.” Lottie hums a little bit and leans back, tossing the wet rag to the side. She grabs the medical kit and takes out four butterfly tapes, making Jackie frown. “Why do you have those?”

“You need to change them,” Nat explains to her left, watching them closely. “Otherwise you’ll get an infection. Plus, you’ve been running around and shit.”

“Oh, okay,” Jackie mumbles.

“This might sting a bit,” Lottie warns before she takes off the butterfly tape on Jackie’s face. She hisses a little between her teeth at the pain but doesn’t flinch away when Lottie places the new ones on. “There, done.”

Jackie glances between Lottie and Nat, her throat growing tight. When was the last time someone took care of her like this? When was the last time someone treated her so gently like they did?

(When was the last time she felt so safe like this?)

She had Shauna. Or, at least, she thought she had Shauna. Jackie thought Shauna was her best friend, thought she was her safe place. But Shauna had tossed Jackie’s love back in her face like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter.

(When will Jackie realize she doesn’t matter—)

(Tragic. Boring. Insecure.)

(You’re better than this.)

(I’m not.)

To her horror, her eyes sting and Jackie sniffs, bringing up her hands and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyelids, throat tight and face feeling warm. Something clatters to the ground and Lottie fumbles in front of her. The weight at her side shuffles and Nat swears lowly.

“Jackie, Jack, hey,” Lottie coaxes. “What’s wrong?”

Jackie shakes her head and fights back the tears that try to slip down her face, taking in deep breaths.

Warm hands settle on her knees. “Honey, tell me what’s wrong,” Lottie says softly. “Why are you crying?”

“I—” Jackie starts before her voice breaks and she swallows back a sob. “I keep fucking up.”

Because there had to be a reason Shauna did what she did. There had to be. Shauna wouldn’t— she wouldn’t fuck Jeff for nothing. Right? She doesn’t even like him, so why? Why would she do this?

What had Jackie done to make Shauna hate her?

(What had she done to get her mother to be disgusted at her like she is? What had she done to get her father to ignore her like he does? What had she done to make Shauna hate her enough to fuck Jeff?)

There had to be a reason.

(Or maybe Jackie Taylor was born a fuck-up.)

(Maybe she was born to be hated.)

Her head hurts. Her face hurts. Everything hurts. It hurts so, so much.

(Her heart hurts, where a Shauna-shaped bruise has bloomed.)

“I can’t get it right,” Jackie chokes out.

(You’re better than this.)

(You’re wrong.)

“Get what right?” Lottie prompts, so, so softly and Jackie doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve any of this kindness.

“Anything. Everything,” Jackie whispers.

“Jack, you’re not making any sense,” Nat says, voice closer to her than she was before, sounding a strange mix of annoyed and worried.

“How could she do this to me?” Jackie asks, strangled.

“Who, Jack, who?” Nat presses.

“Both of them! I— I don’t—” Her vision swims and Jackie slumps against the couch, boneless and tired and hurt. “…I don’t know what I did.”

Nat’s face shifts, turning furious. “It’s not your fault,” she spits out. “What— what happened to you—” She gestures to Jackie’s red cheek. “That’s not your fucking fault, okay? So, don’t say shit like that.”

“Jackie,” Lottie says sternly, watching as Jackie cringes in pain, face scrunching. “Have you taken any medicine for your concussion?”

“…I couldn’t,” Jackie answers, all fight drained out of her. Like whiplash, confused and exhausted, anger pooling out of her body.

“…You couldn’t?” Lottie repeats, oddly flat.

“The Tylenol the nurse gave me was with my mom,” Jackie says quietly, blinking slowly.

Nat clenches her jaw and looks away, letting out a slow breath. Lottie sighs. “Hold on.”

She gets up and heads back towards the stairs.

“You don’t have to,” Jackie calls to weakly, already knowing what she was doing.

Lottie doesn’t pause. “I want to.”

She comes back carrying two pills in her hand within seconds, handing them to Jackie, who swallows them dry. She blinks and a tear rolls down her cheek, hot against her skin. Lottie cups her face and wipes it away. 

“Tell us what’s wrong,” Lottie murmurs, a subtle demand in her voice.

Jackie looks at her — soft, earnest, and eager to help — and then Nat, who presses closer, shoulder brushing against hers, staring at her like she wants to take all of her problems and crush them under the heels of her clunky combat boots until they’re nothing but mere dust.

And Jackie feels like she’s falling apart.

Like all of her pieces are shattered and broken. Like she’s fractured into tiny pieces that are too sharp to catch before they fall — too sharp for Shauna, for her mother, for her father. Too sharp for those who she thought were her closest people in her life.

And yet—

Yet, Lottie and Nat stare at her, waiting with arms wide open to embrace her. They see her broken pieces and still see something worth catching, someone worth saving.

They’re people who aren’t afraid to bloody their hands while catching her sharp pieces.

Jackie sighs shakily. Another tear runs down, this time across the hand-print on her face. It burns.

“Tell us,” Nat says.

Jackie does.

Chapter Text

Light snores float through the air and Nat doesn’t take her eyes off of Jackie’s sleeping form. She’s curled up at the end of the couch, head resting in her arms and her feet were touching Nat’s outer thigh from where she had scooted close to her.

“Are you okay?” Lottie asks, soft and low beside her.

Nat laughs, shaky and bitter. “I’m not the one you should be asking that.”

“Nat,” Lottie murmurs and a warm hand brushes against her arm.

Nat grits her teeth. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Natalie,” Lottie sighs out.

“No,” Nat cuts her off, voice rough and angry. “I’m— I’m going to fucking kill her.”

“Which one?” Lottie notes idly, fingers skimming up her arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Her mom— no, she doesn’t deserve that title— Whatever-the-fuck-her-first-name-is Taylor,” Nat spits out.

“It’s Susan,” Lottie answers.

Nat blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

“Her name is Susan,” Lottie repeats, slow and patient. “The Taylors used to come over here to ‘discuss adult things’.”

“Whatever,” Nat dismisses. “I’m going to kill her and then I’m going to kill Jeff and then I’m going to shake Shauna and scream at her what she was thinking — whether or not I punch her in the face is still up for debate.”

Lottie huffs out a small laugh.

“I’m serious,” Nat snaps, whirling around. She pauses when she hears a sleepy grumble and the feet pressed against her thigh shifts a little before snores start back up, Jackie slipping back off to sleep. “I’m fucking serious, Lot,” she hisses, lower. “I’m going to kill her.”

Lottie stares down at her before putting a hand over hers, engulfing it. “I know, Nat,” she says. “I know you want to, but you can’t.”

Nat clenches her jaw. “Don’t tell me you want her to get away with this—”

“Don’t,” Lottie interrupts. She glares at her and, finally, Nat sees the raging storm behind her irises, sees the same anger that she’s feeling. “The last thing I want is for Susan Taylor to get away with this. To be honest, I have half the mind to drive over there right now myself.”

“What’s stopping you then?”

The harsh lines leave Lottie’s face, turning soft again. “Because Jackie needs me.” She grabs Nat’s hands and doesn’t flinch at the callouses on them. “She needs us. And we can’t help her if we’re in jail for murder, Nat.”

Nat stares at her and then glances over at Jackie’s sleeping form. She deflates. “…I still think we could get away with it.”

“Do you want to take the chance?”

Nat doesn’t say anything.

Lottie’s thumb brushes against her knuckles. “I know you want to hurt her and so do I — believe me — but we can’t. What do you think Jackie would think if we were sent to prison for killing her mom?”

Nat sighs after a long moment. “Fuck. Fucking, fine,” she grumbles. “I won’t do anything to her, but if I see her, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

Lottie laughs. “Fair enough,” she says, as if sensing that’s the best she was going to get from Nat. “Now, are you staying here tomorrow or are you going to school?”

Nat startles. “What?”

“Jackie can’t go to school tomorrow because of her concussion, Nat,” Lottie says. “I’m going to stay here so she won’t have to go back to her house. Are you staying or leaving?”

Nat looks at soft brown eyes and feels Lottie’s warm hands wrapped around hers. She feels Jackie’s feet pressed against her outer thigh and hears her soft snores. This is the closest thing she’s ever felt at home before and she almost, almost says she’ll stay, that she’ll stay here tomorrow to spend the day with them because, despite herself, she finds she doesn’t want to leave.

But.

She thinks of Shauna and she thinks of Jeff and she thinks of Jackie’s tears when she babbled out how she’s fucked up somehow, how she can never get it right, and how it’s her fault for other people’s mistakes.

She couldn’t sit here with a clear conscious while Jackie continues to believe that it’s her fault Shauna fucked Jeff, her fault that her best friend betrayed her first. A restless energy buzzes under her skin and the thought of staying here, staring at Jackie’s sad eyes while she takes on faults that aren’t her own while Nat had done nothing to try and fix it, makes her stomach churn.

Nat tightens her grip on Lottie’s hands. “I’m going tomorrow. Can’t miss too many, right? They might just actually kick me out this time.”

Lottie stares back at her and sees through her. “…Don’t break any of Shauna’s bones.”

Nat huffs out a laugh. “No promises.”

Lottie smiles prettily in response.

__

“Nat, where’re you goin’?” Jackie asks the next morning, slurring her words sleepily, rubbing at the corner of her eye. Her hair is messy and the bruises on her face are more purple than the red they were yesterday.

Nat loops her bag over her torso. “School.”

Jackie frowns while Lottie is in the kitchen, making breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon drift through. “…But Lottie isn’t going,” she says.

Nat shoots her a smirk. “Astute observation, Taylor.”

Jackie makes a face at her and sits up slowly on the couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders. “You hate school,” she points out.

Nat shrugs a little bit. “Maybe I’ll like it today.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jackie deadpans and Nat snorts at her. 

“They might kick me out.”

“They’re not going to kick you out.”

“I think they would,” Nat teases.

Jackie huffs and crosses her arms. “They could try, but they won’t.”

“And why do you think that?” Nat asks.

“Because none of us would let them,” Jackie states, completely certain.

Nat swallows as something like affection bubbles up her throat. 

Thankfully, she’s saved from having to say anything as Lottie comes into the living room, shoving a sandwich wrapped in a paper towel into Nat’s hands. “This is breakfast and this—” Lottie hands over a paper bag. “—is your lunch. Do not forget to eat it, Natalie Scatorccio.”

Nat blinks down at the bacon sandwich in her hand and then the paper bag. “Lot…”

“Nat,” Lottie copies.

“I, uh…” Nat’s fingers curl around the paper bag, making it crinkle. She struggles to find the words and comes up blank.

Lottie face softens. “It’s no problem, Nat.” She says it so fondly Nat feels like she might melt. “Now, do you want a ride to the school?”

Nat thinks for a moment. “No,” she settles on. “I need to think.”

I need to cool off before I bash Jeff’s face in and scream at Shauna, is not said but not unheard.

Lottie eyes her in concern. “…If you say so,” she says eventually.

“I still don’t get why you’re going,” Jackie gripes from the couch.

“Careful, Taylor, it almost sounds like you don’t want me to,” Nat drawls.

Jackie opens her mouth and stammers over her words before huffing. “You’re an asshole.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Nat mocks. She reaches over and ruffles Jackie’s hair roughly, ignoring her squawk in return before going to the door. “See you later, Jack. Bye, Lot.”

“Bye, Nat,” Lottie calls out, already fixing Jackie’s hair when she whines about it.

The door swings shut behind her.

__

Nat makes a beeline for Shauna’s locker right when she steps into school, finding the girl already there, door opened and rummaging through it. She stops and leans against the locker beside it — Jackie’s locker, Nat notes.

“You fucked up,” is the first thing that comes out of Nat’s mouth.

Shauna slams her locker door shut, turning towards her, brows furrowing. “What are you talking about, Natalie?”

Nat wrinkles her nose at her. “You fucked up, Shipman,” she repeats. “Guess who I found wandering the streets at night crying?”

Shauna’s face does something complicated — shifting and dropping into a mix of concern and annoyance. “Jackie?” she murmurs.

“Ding, ding, ding, right on the first try, Shipman,” Nat mocks.

Shauna glares at her, fire in her eyes. “The fuck is your problem, Nat?”

Nat glares right back. “My problem—” she hisses, pushing herself off the locker to move closer to Shauna. “—is that Jackie thinks something you did is her fault.”

A brief flash of guilt appears before it’s gone as quick as it came and Shauna takes a step toawrds her. “Stay the fuck out of it, Natalie.”

“No, see, you don’t get to say that shit to me,” Nat laughs, borderline enraged and incredious. “Because you know who found Jackie wandering the streets last night? Me. Who got her to safety before something could happen to her? Me. Who helped take care of her when she thought she couldn’t go to you? Me.” She jams a finger into Shauna’s chest, making her stumble back half step. “So, no, you don’t get to say that to me.”

Shauna blinks. “…She thought she couldn’t come to me?”

“Oh my god,” Nat mutters. “Shipman, for a certified genius, you’re really fucking dumb.”

Shauna scowls. “Why was she out on the streets last night anyways? She has a concussion.”

“And yet she was on the streets,” Nat retorts, crossing her arms and leaning back. “You have any idea why?”

Shauna stares at her blankly for a moment before rage flashes through her eyes and her fists clench at her sides. It’s all Nat needs to see to realize.

“You already know why,” she accuses.

Shauna lets out a slow breath and her shoulder untense a little bit. “…She’s talked about her mom sometimes to me,” she says, voice low and gravelly, still fighting off her anger. “She was always…weird about Jackie. But, every time she’s talked, it’s never— nothing she’s ever said could hint she would run from her house.”

“Well, she did,” Nat says. “I’ve never seen her like that before.” The last part is said more so to herself, as if she’s just now realizing how out of-sorts Jackie was compared to how upbeat she usually is.

Shauna tenses up. “I need to see her.” 

There’s an edge of panic seeping into her voice and Nat would’ve been more sympathetic if she hadn’t been just last night watching Jackie fall apart over something she did.

“No,” Nat snaps, pressing a hand to Shauna’s sternum to stop her from barging out of the school on a manhunt. “You don’t get to see her until you get your shit together.”

Shauna shoves her hand away and glowers at her. “Nat,” she says warningly.

“No,” Nat repeats firmly. “I don’t think you understand what you’ve done to her. It was like she was falling apart last night and Lottie and I barely calmed her down enough before she could have a panic attack when she was telling us everything. Seeing you will erase all of our progress if your head isn’t screwed on right.”

Shauna is stonily silent for a moment before she sighs, shoulders slumping slightly. “…Fine,” she grunts.

“You need to think of which is more important to you: your relationship with Jackie or whatever it is you’ve got going on with Jeff,” Nat says. “Because you can’t have both. You come to Lottie’s house once you have it sorted out and you’re there to come and beg Jackie for forgiveness.”

Shauna is quiet. Suddenly, she blinks, and she swallows, her throat bobbing. She looks at her and Nat sees someone crushed with guilt while warring with the rage that still seeps through her body.

She sees someone almost as broken as Jackie.

(Someone like Nat when she looks into the mirror.)

(Someone like when she looks at Lottie or Van or Tai.)

(Maybe they all really are broken.)

Shauna looks like she wants to say something, on the urge of blurting something out. But, instead, she clenches her jaw and whirls around, walking away.

Nat watches her go.

Jackie or Jeff?

She already knows Shauna’s answer.

She just hopes Shauna figures it out herself before it’s too late.

__

“Hello?”

Nat sags against the wall in the back of the school outside, twisting the phone cord around her fingers. “Hey, Lot,” she breathes out.

A pause. “…Nat?” Lottie asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nat answers. “I just, uh, is— is Jackie okay?”

“She’s fine,” Lottie says, voice calm. “We were just watching some tv earlier.”

“That— that’s good,” Nat stammers. She tightens her hold on the cord. She wonders briefly why she was panicking at all about Jackie’s safety. Of course, Lottie would never let something happen to her.

(He stands over her shoulder. He’s always there. He talks and his voice is just as angry as it was when he was still alive.)

(Sometimes, it feels like she’s holding the gun still.)

“Natalie,” Lottie murmurs. “Breathe with me, okay? Inhale, one, two, three—”

Nat grasps onto her voice and holds on like a lifeline. A strangled gasp tears through her throat and she leans heavily against the wall more, legs feeling like lead.

“It’s okay. Just breath. Exhale, one, two, three, four—”

Her hand is shaking so bad the phone almost falls from her sweaty grip. Nat finds her breath again after a few more times and squeezes the phone tight. “Sorry,” she says, roughly. “Sorry, I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Lottie repeats, gentle. “It’s okay, Nat.”

Nat tips her head against the wall. She swallows harshly. “…Jackie’s okay?”

“Jackie’s okay,” Lottie reassures, so, so patient and kind. “…Would you like to talk to her?”

She thinks of the blood that had been soaked on Jackie’s face yesterday on the field, the rage at the kicker on JV, the terror when Jackie seemed to not really understand what was going on.

(She had looked at Jackie’s bloody face and saw another, one from the past with his head shot open.)

(She had been afraid, then, to lose someone again. Someone she actually cared for.)

“Yes,” Nat eventually answers. The word scrapes against her throat like sandpaper.

“Okay, hold on,” Lottie says and there’s shuffling and murmuring voices before,

“Nat?”

Jackie’s voice. Alive and warm and there.

Nat closes her eyes and allows herself to relax.

“Hey, Jack.”

__

“Um, where have you been, Miss Scatorccio?” Van teases, crossing her arms, though underneath the joking expression lies concern.

It’s thirty minutes into lunch and Nat had spent all of it on the phone with Jackie and Lottie, calming down after her History class. They were talking about rifles used in war and, suddenly, Nat had been back there. 

“Out for a smoke,” Nat lies.

“Uh huh,” Van hums, obviously not buying it.

By Tai’s scoff, she’s not either.

“Where’s Lottie and Shauna?” Tai asks.

Nat pulls her paper bag out and opens it, finding a ham and cheese sandwich with an orange on the side. “Lottie is with Jackie and Shauna is, uh, somewhere.” She shrugs a bit.

Tai’s eyebrows shoot up. “Why is Lottie with Jackie? Isn’t Jackie supposed to stay home?”

The foil she took from around the sandwich crinkles in Nat’s tightening grip. “…Yeah, yeah, she is,” she says, a touch coldly, eyes distant. She blinks, tries to focus on the present. “But she’s with Lottie instead right now.”

Tai’s face pinches in concern and Van frowns, uncharacteristically. “…Is everything okay?” Van asks.

Nat lets out a breath and drops the foil. “No, no, it’s not.”

They share a look.

Tai turns back to her. “Spill.”

“Jackie can’t go home right now,” Nat says criptically. “The three of us stayed over at Lottie’s last night.”

Van pales a little bit, knowing what Nat staying over Lottie’s house meant — Nat’s mother being unbearable and the trailer being too much to sleep at. And if Jackie was staying with them…

Tai tenses up, sharing another look with Van.

Nat takes a bite of her sandwich. 

“What happened?” Tai demands, voice low.

Nat looks at her, chewing on her sandwich before swallowing. “…If I promised not to murder someone, you guys have to promise, too,” she ends up saying.

“Oh god, that bad, huh?” Van mutters, brows creasing.

“Natalie,” Tai starts before repeating, “what happened?”

Nat opens her mouth before someone stumbles up to their table.

Someone, meaning Jeff-fucking-Sadecki.

Nat closes her eyes briefly and sighs heavily.

“Hey, where’s Jackie at?” Jeff asks.

“She’s at—”

“—nowhere you need to know,” Nat cuts Van off, watching as her brows raise in shock. She glares over at Jeff, who blinks at her harshness. “Now, kindly, fuck off.”

Jeff straightens up with a frown. “There’s no need for that, man, what’s your problem? I just want to know where Jackie’s at.”

I promised Lottie I wouldn’t go to jail for murder. I promised Lottie I wouldn’t go to jail for murder, Nat chants in her mind.

“I’m not telling you shit, so you should fuck off already,” Nat grits out.

Jeff scowls. “I’m her boyfriend, I think I have the right to—”

Nat stands up suddenly, her chair lurching backwards as she whirls on him. “You don’t have the ‘right’ to anything regarding Jackie. So, I’ll tell you one last time: fuck off.”

“Oh please,” Jeff scoffs. “What are you going to do, Natalie? Blow my—”

Nat’s arm is already swinging before he can finish his sentence before a hand wraps around her wrist, jerking her backwards. She shouts obscenities at him as Van, who had lunged across the table to stop her, maneuvers herself completely on the other side, wrapping an arm around her waist and hoisting her up.

Jeff stumbles backwards in shock, eyes wide.

Tai turns towards him, hurrying around the table in a more dignified manner than Van’s leap across it, and addresses him coldly, “Stay the hell away from us.”

She takes up Nat’s other side and helps dragging her away from the cafeteria. They carry her out into the hallway and out the doors before sitting her down, pressing shoulder to shoulder to keep her from running back inside.

“How much did Jeff fuck up?” Tai asks.

Nat takes large, calming breaths and forces herself to relax. “Too much,” she answers after a moment. 

“Okay, so he’s back on our shit list then. Got it,” Van acknowledges.

Tai rolls her eyes but doesn’t look like she disagrees. “That doesn’t mean you can punch his face in, Nat.”

“At least not on school property,” Van adds.

“Van,” Tai says warningly.

Van holds up her hands. “Sorry.”

Nat manages a brief chuckle. “He definitely deserves it.”

Van suddenly perks up. “You said Jackie is staying at Lottie’s, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We should have a movie marathon,” Van suggests. “It’ll cure all of her ails.”

“I don’t think—” Tai starts.

“We just need to go get Shauna,” Van interupts. “Then we can all go and cheer her up.”

Nat’s forming smile drops. “That’s not a good idea.”

Van pauses. “What, why?”

Nat sighs and leans her shoulder against the wall of the school building. “…They’re having issues right now,” she settles on.

“‘Issues’?” Tai repeats, incredious.

“Jackie and Shauna?” Van adds. “Like, our Jackie and Shauna? Having issues? What?”

“Yeah,” Nat says, voice tight. “Our Jackie and Shauna.”

Van blinks, like the information presented to her isn’t computing.

Tai crosses her arms. “Okay, what are we missing? They were fine before the party we went to a couple of nights ago.”

“They were being super weird at lunch yesterday, though,” Van points out, considering.

“Yeah, but they do that sometimes,” Tai says. “They get into petty fights, not have issues.”

“Well, it’s actual issues this time,” Nat says.

“Like your ‘I’m-going-to-bash-Jeff’s-face-in’ issues?” Van asks. “Like, really, really bad issues?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck,” Van mutters, disappointed.

“Great,” Tai sighs out. She looks between them. “How are we going to fix this?”

“I’ve talked to Shauna, but…” Nat trails off and shrugs. “There’s not much we can do. I think it’s really up to them.”

Neither Tai nor Van look reassured by this.

And Nat understands it. The helplessness she felt when she had watched Jackie fall apart on the couch in Lottie’s living room, tears gushing down her bruised face. The helplessness she felt when she saw Shauna’s face fall into a crushing guilt and rage.

The helplessness she feels as she watches two people she cares about tear each other apart.

It makes a lump form in her throat.

“…Do you think they’ll be okay?” Van asks softly.

Nat doesn’t answer.

(She doesn’t know. She hopes, though.)

(But sometimes hope isn’t enough.)

Chapter Text

“If you could be any animal in the world, what would you be?”

Lottie hums, thinking for a moment. “Probably some kind of bird.”

“A bird?” Jackie muses. “Why a bird?”

Lottie shrugs a little bit, careful not to jostle her head that’s in her lap or move the ice pack she has pressed against Jackie’s face. “They’re never alone, always in a flock.”

Jackie flips herself over, making Lottie readjust the ice pack to her cheek. She squints at her, tilting her head. Lottie blinks back at her. “…Well, you have a team of Yellowjackets, so there’s no chance of you being alone,” she comments idly.

Lottie makes a face, though Jackie can tell she’s pleased. “Oh? Should I account on getting random late night visits now?”

Jackie nods sagely. “Yup. Consider all of your alone time gone.”

“Oh no, the horror,” Lottie deadpans.

“No, I’m serious, you’re going to be so sick and tired of us within, like, a week,” Jackie teases.

Lottie laughs lightly. “Bring your worst, Jack.”

Jackie sniffs. “I will.”

Lottie rolls her eyes good-naturally. “Okay, what about you? What animal would you want to be?”

“A jellyfish,” Jackie answers without hesitation.

Lottie lets out a startled chuckle. “A jellyfish? Why?”

Jackie flushes. “Because I can, you know, go explore the ocean. Who wouldn’t want to be a cute little blob thingy that breathes underwater?”

Lottie stares at her for a long moment before shaking her head. “Only you, Jackie, only you—”

The door opening interupts them and Lottie glances over, confused when she finds Nat strolling in with Van and Tai on her heels. Jackie shifts and leans forward to rest her chin on the arm of the couch, staring at them.

“It’s one-thirty,” Jackie suddenly says, brows furrowed.

Nat shoots her a smirk. “You’re on a roll today with these observations, Taylor. Astounding work, truly.”

Jackie’s face scrunches and Lottie pats her head gently. “Jerk,” she mutters but doesn’t start a fight, more interested in the warm hand on her head that guides her back down towards Lottie’s lap where she settles again.

“You know better than to purposefully rile her up, Nat,” Lottie sighs out.

Nat scoffs. “But it’s so much fun.”

Lottie stares at her, unimpressed. “She has a concussion.”

“Doesn’t make it any less fun.”

“Why are you guys here so early?” Lottie asks, changing the subject. “You should still be in school.”

“If we stayed any longer, Nat was going to beat Jeff’s head in,” Van says, entirely too enthusiastic for mentioning casual murder.

A small sound comes from Jackie’s throat. “You were going to what?!”

The others walk around and Nat plops herself down beside her after shoving her feet away. “I think Van made it pretty clear what I was going to do if I stayed there any longer.”

Jackie frowns at her and moves herself so her legs were tossed over Nat’s, who scowls right back at her but doesn’t shove her away again. Lottie sighs at the two of them. 

“And we came because we’ve decided a movie marathon will cure all of your ails,” Van announces, holding up a plastic grocery bag. 

Tai makes a disapproving sound and settles beside Nat. “No, that was your idea. I came because you were going to leave me by myself in Mrs. Jackson’s class.”

Both Jackie and Lottie hiss in sympathy at the name.

“Yikes,” Jackie grumbles.

“Can’t really blame you for that one,” Lottie comments.

“She’s just whipped,” Nat interjects at the same time.

Tai grabs the closest pillow next to her and sends it straight into Nat’s face.

“Ow!”

“Quiet,” Tai snaps. Nat attempts to lunge for her but Tai shoves her backwards straight into Lottie and Jackie, who don’t blink, simply manuevering themselves around to settle back comfortably with the extra weight on them. 

Van ignores both of them in favor of pulling out a bunch of DVDs from the bag, setting them on the coffee table in front of them. “Okay, so we have Scream and Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween and, ooh, The Craft—”

Jackie sits up, halfway on Lottie’s lap with Nat pressed against her side, who’s still kicking at Tai in retaliation. “Wait, wait, why are they all scary movies?” She pouts. “I thought you were trying to ‘cure my ails’? You know I hate scary movies.”

Van huffs, poofing out her cheeks. “Yeah, well, you also know how I get when I go to Blockbuster to rent movies.”

“She means she has to rent at least two horror movies even if we’re there for a comedy — I swear, Scatorccio, keep trying to kick me and see what happens!” Tai exclaims. 

Nat ignores her and kicks at her again, in which Tai catches her ankle and tugs her sharply forward. Nat makes a small shocked noise as she falls from Jackie’s side and collapses against the cushions, halfway on Tai now, who takes the opportunity to dig her fingers into Nat’s sides, who shrieks, laughing. 

“Tai, stop — goddamn it — I- I can’t,” Nat wheezes out, rolling around on the couch, trying to escape her. “I can’t breathe—” And she laughs again, tears rolling down her face.

Jackie blinks, taking in the unusual grin that shows her dimples and the oddly beautiful sound of Nat’s laughter. Lottie simply smiles at the sight. “Don’t kill her, Tai,” she comments idly, wrapping a warm arm around Jackie, who sinks into her side again without another thought.

“I won’t,” Tai answers and then grins, suddenly and sharply, “much.”

“You asshole,” Nat chokes out, squirming before she’s cackling again.

Van snorts at them. “As much as I love watching Tai kill Nat by tickling her to death — which, trust me, I do — I really want to get one of these movies started.”

“We’ve watched all of these movies before, Van,” Lottie points out.

Van shrugs. “So? Doesn’t make them any less awesome.”

“But”—Jackie pouts again—“they’re all scary movies.”

Van reaches out and pats Jackie on the head, the same way Lottie had done earlier. “There, there, Cap, we’ll protect you from any harm an imaginary monster can do to you.”

Jackie huffs. “Rude.”

Van smiles. “Does that mean you’ll watch one with us, though?”

“…Fine.”

“Yes!” Van cheers. She hopes over and snatches one of the DVD cases from the table, making her way towards Lottie’s tv. “Up first, Halloween.”

Nat, who’s finally escaped Tai’s ruthless tickle attack, has settled against her side, face flushed. “You just wanna see a clear shot of boobs.”

“Guilty,” Van sing-songs after putting in the DVD. 

Jackie blushes and buries her face in her hands, ignoring the pain in it. Lottie laughs at her reaction, “You okay there, Jack? You’re looking a little red. Do you have a fever or something?”

Jackie pulls her hands down and narrows her eyes at Lottie’s solemn face, which she would’ve thought was genuine if it weren’t for the fact she had laughed only seconds ago and she could clearly tell Lottie was trying to hide a smile. “You’re all mean to me. You’re bullying me,” she grumbles.

“You poor thing,” Tai mocks. “We’re so mean, coming here to check on you and make you feel better.”

Jackie, like the mature person she is, sticks out her tongue.

Tai rolls her eyes at her, though there’s no malice in it. 

“Lottie, where’s your popcorn at?” Van asks, already headed towards the kitchen.

Lottie blinks. “In the left, top cabinet drawer closest to the refrigerator.”

“Great! ‘Cause I’m starving,” Van groans and sets out to make two bowls.

Lottie frowns. “Didn’t you guys eat lunch before coming here?”

“Uh, it was interupted,” Van answers vaguely.

Tai jostles the blonde beside her. “Yeah, Nat, wanna explain why?”

“I thought we already went over this?” Nat asks, frustrated. But she repeats anyways, “I almost kicked Jeff’s ass.”

“During lunch?” Lottie asks, disappointed. “Why did it have to be during lunch? You need to eat.”

Nat huffs. “Jeff started it first. Kept talking shit and stuff, so I, you know, swung at him.”

“She almost went all Michael Myers on his ass,” Van laughs from the kitchen.

“Then Tai and Van took me out of the cafeteria and we came here after Blockbuster,” Nat continues. She sends a slightly sheepish look towards Lottie. “Sorry I couldn’t eat your sandwich, Lot.”

Lottie stares at her, a little dumbfounded. “Nat,” she begins slowly, “I’m not upset about the sandwich, I’m upset that you guys haven’t ate anything today.”

“We have popcorn!” Van exclaims like that fixes everything.

Lottie sighs at them.

Jackie looks between them before snorting. “You know we haven’t ate anything either, right?”

Lottie looks down at her, trying to process what she just heard. It clicks suddenly and Jackie smothers a grin as Lottie’s face falls sheepishly. “…Oops.”

“Uh, hypocrite much, Matthews?” Nat teases.

Lottie blushes. “It was an honest mistake.”

“Uh-huh,” Tai hums, neither she nor Nat completely buying it — or, at least, pretending not to just to see Lottie fumble around with her words.

Van glances at the box of popcorn in her hands. “…Does that mean I should make three bowls, then?”

__

They settle on sandwiches because Nat ended up pestering Lottie for a new one to eat. Jackie had managed to eat a half of one before giving her other half to Van, who ate it and her own, Tai grumbling to her that she would not be listening to any whining if she ends up with a stomach ache.

They watch Halloween after that which consisted of Jackie flinching into Tai’s side every time there was a jump scare while Nat had kept saying “boobies” every time a scene came on with a naked woman while Van cheered her on. Lottie had rolled her eyes with Tai, who had reluctantly let Jackie use her arm as a buffer to hide behind every time Michael Myers appeared.

It was nice, despite the her reluctance at watching any scary movie. Being surrounded by her teammates, her friends, without any arguing or fighting that wasn’t bickering or teasing. 

And yet.

Jackie’s eyes keep straying to the space beside her. She can almost imagine her there, Shauna with her deep brown eyes, who would have held her hand throughout the movie because she also knows Jackie hates scary movies — especially the scenes with loud noises — and she would’ve squeezed her hand whenever she jumped.

Shauna would’ve leaned over, whisper something in her ear that would make her laugh and forget the spike of fear that rushes through her at every jump scare. She would’ve held her without any judgement, would’ve made her feel safe because Shauna was her most trusted person in the world, someone Jackie knew inside and out, someone who would never hurt her.

Or, at least, she thought she did.

Jackie wonders if Shauna would do any of that anymore. If she would hold her hand, would lean down to whisper something silly in her ear to make her forget her fear; if she would hold her so closely and so gently and make her feel so loved.

(Tragic. Boring. Insecure.)

While Jackie thought she knew Shauna, she knows Shauna has seen her at her worst. Shauna had seen her cry and break down, had held her and let her vent everything that weighed her down.

Shauna knows Jackie, completely and wholly.

She knows every insecurity, every bad thought, every painful admission. She also knows all of the good, too — her confidence, her self-esteem, her everything.

She has seen everything that makes up Jackie Taylor and came to the conclusion of three simple words: tragic, boring, and insecure.

Those are the three things Shauna had settled on after knowing her, inside and out. All of the good that made up Jackie Taylor was completely outweighed by the bad. Every good thing Jackie thought she had would never compare to the bad.

“Jackie, you’re crying.”

A hand touches her knee, hesitant but strong.

Jackie wipes at her face, hiding it behind a curtain of hair as she curls in on herself. “Sorry,” she says, voice strained. “Sorry, I don’t— I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Van asks and crouches down in front of her.

Jackie doesn’t look at her or Tai, who doesn’t take her hand away from her knee. She doesn’t look at Nat or Lottie, who had settled by Van’s sides, concerned. She doesn’t look at any of them because she’s afraid of what she’ll see — or, maybe, what they’ll see.

Jackie shakes her head, stifling another cry. She buries her face in her hands and lets the pain in it wash over her.

“Jack, you can tell us,” Lottie insists.

But she can’t, can she? How could she tell them? How could she open herself up when the one person who knows her inside and out had deemed her pathetic? How could she hope for them to see something better than what Shauna already knows her as?

(Tragic. Boring. Insecure.)

And maybe that’s what she’s been all along and Jackie just didn’t realize it until Shauna pointed it out. Maybe she’s been like this her whole life and there really wasn’t a single good thing about Jackie Taylor.

If she shows them her real self (tragic. boring. insecure.) they might leave. Lottie had stayed with her and Nat had came back despite her break down yesterday, but how long will it last? How long until they realize what a waste of time it is to spend it with Jackie?

How long until they leave her?

(Leave her like Shauna?)

So, she stays silent, crying in her hands.

They stay with her.

(She doubts it’ll last.)

Jackie Taylor is Tragic, Boring, and Insecure.

And nobody will want to stay when they realize this.

Not even them.