Chapter Text
Papers flew in an artisanal confetti, the uproar from class to class screaming to a volume among any other, as Mr. Vernon came on the announcements. He droned on for a moment and said the blessed words.
"There won't be a bell, you are dismissed."
With that, the uproar came to a crescendo, and here we find our uncomfortable protagonist, the shy and peculiar specimen, Allison Reynolds. Loose and baggy clothes fell off her skin, and when one says her name, it conjures up images of Rorschach tests, dark eyeliner, long brunette hair, and a lack of understanding of social cues. She, out of the whole club on that frosty Saturday, was the basket case, and for a reason. But here we find her, last day of school, dressed in layers on a summer day, biting her nails, sensitive to the loud noise.
The classmates rushed to the door, shouting goodbyes, and 'Sign my yearbook's as they slowly vacated the classroom, although she was slow to follow behind. This was already sensory hell for her, so it's best to at least give her a second before she rushed out into the hallway, even busier than the classroom. But when she finally did, she didn't take in mind any of the other people that she vaguely considered her friends, though she barely talked to them, and just went straight out with the crowd.
Finally, the noise disappeared as she sluggishly forced herself out and to the trash bins outside. Now, here came the fun part of each year, dumping out the books. She gave a wide toothy grin, pulling her backpack off and just letting everything dumped out. All the dumb poetry, drawings, and gum wrappers came with it too, but there was only one thing she wanted to save out of the entire backpack. Bender's switchblade. She liked it, thought it was really pretty, the way the sun gleamed off the metal like fine shards of light. So she took it but she practically could've thrown away the backpack at that point.
Then, when she turned around she saw something she didn't expect. Something she could've never expected. That short redheaded girl. It took a moment, the two stared at each other deeply. It was almost intimate, and she'd never really expected to see Claire again, or at least in any important capacity after what she'd coined 'The Detention Incident', but there she was, staring with that weird upper-class buck-toothed smile.
"Hey, Allison." She started. No remnant of anything that happened remained, she just kind of spoke as if nothing had changed at all, and she was asking a question for the daily lunch poll.
Allison didn't bother reply, instead just staring.
"How's it going?"
She parroted back, "How's it going?"
What the hell was Claire doing here?
"Well, I'm just curious about you and.. What you're doing this summer."
"Nuffin'" She said, clammy. "Parents are cheap-o's so, nothing."
"Yeah, well, me and my dad were going to Antigua, but that didn't pan out so..."
What was she getting at? Alison was curious, so she simply cocked her eyebrow, maybe that would get her to state her actual intentions.
"You know.." Alison couldn't help herself, "Your left arm is easier to dislocate than your right. That's the reason you can kinda feel it.. pop out of your joint..."
"That's... Interesting, but anyway, I was wondering if you might wanna come over for a pool party, y'know, to celebrate the end of the school year?"
"Pool.. Party?" She couldn't tell if she was happy or not. This was the first time anyone had ever invited her to a party. And she was a junior, so that was saying something.
"Yeah. It'd be good for us, I think." Same damn tone as Miss Lunch Poll, "You know, get out, do something. It'd be fun."
"Okay..." She was excited, despite her initial reservations, and held back a little squeal, "When?"
"Tomorrow, at 6:00. I'll write down the address for you."
She nodded vigorously.
***
Strangely enough for a girl like Claire, there were no cars in the driveway beside her father's BMW, and in the tall palatial home, the lack of music, noise, or indistinct talk from the back signaled that either Allison was too early, or something else was going on. But it was 6:00, and this was the right address, so she turned the street corner, and with a little rat-ta-tat-tat, knocked on the door, biting at the skin of her lips.
The redheaded girl opened in a bikini, one that Allison knew that she could never pull off. It highlighted the contours of her body, curves tracing down, and slowly Allison's eyes widened and she bit down harder. She felt a flash of an image cross her mind, and she had to tense up to force herself not to turn red.
"Hi.." She said, speaking first. A rarity.
"Hey, come in." The other moved to the side, with that same bucktooth smile.
It was one of -if not the biggest house Allison had ever been in. She'd grown up not particularly wealthy, and for the first few years of her life, she'd lived in a house smaller than the living room in Brighton Beach. It had ornate rugs, candles, a 25'' inch TV, and in the kitchen, a martini shaker with a neon-colored graphic that read 'COMPLIMENTS FROM MADRID'.
"Where, uhm, is everyone?" She spoke as if she emphasized every word.
"Just us," Claire said, the door closing with a halt. "Do you want anything, lemonade, or something?"
She shook her head, "I'm- I'm gonna go change. If that's okay?"
"Of course."
***
One thing that Allison never really liked about herself was the way she spoke. When she did start speaking English, she had a horrible stutter and an accent. Slowly, she'd waned off of it, but it was never right. Even when she spoke her mother tongue she didn't sound just right. She remembered vaguely having to watch a film of Helen Keller for her health class in eighth grade. She'd said something along the lines of, “It is the acute disappointment in not being able to speak normally.", and despite not being deaf, or blind, she understood what she'd meant.
Another thing Allison never really liked about herself was how she looked. In middle school, the few times before she'd started wearing baggy clothes, a few boys had hit on her, but she'd never really believed she was attractive. She was too skinny, or too chubby, and when she looked at herself in the mirror she didn't quite like what was there. But that was life, and here she was now, with an ugly purple one-piece wrapped around her, staring at herself in the mirror with a twitchy eye.
When she got out, the house was empty and cool, a breeze streaming in through the glass backdoor. Slowly, she followed, clearing her throat as she walked out. Claire was laid down with black sunglasses, tanning next to the pool.
"So, where are your parents?" Allison began, plopping down a chair next to her
"Eh, who knows at this point? I think my dad's on business."
"Cool.." God, she was so awkward. She couldn't help herself but stare.
"You're like a dog, y'know."
"...How so?"
"It's just the way you are. Hard to describe. You stare, and stare, and well... I don't know, it's hard to explain."
"I can't help it... Why am I here?"
"Because I invited you."
Allison narrowed her eyes.
"B-but no, why did you invite me? We haven't talked since March."
Claire paused and took off the sunglasses, just kind of staring vacantly into the water.
"I'm lonely, Allison."
Allison blinked. How could the most popular girl at school be lonely?
"Look, for a while I've just kind of... Had nothing to do. I'm lonely, alright? Bender's in jail for having a gun, Andrew would only ever want me to fuck him, and I can't be seen with Brian. So I gotta resort to you."
Ouch. Kinda stung to be the last resort, didn't it?
"..I'm sorry," She spoke melodically, "I had no idea. What about your popular friends?" Claire had gotten a little glassy-eyed, and for a moment it looked like she was going to cry.
"They don't really like me. They like me because of my reputation."
Allison kind of lowered herself a little into the pool, up to her neck as she held one arm out to keep herself stable against the wall of the pool, before she got an idea that might lift spirits at the very least.
"Do you have vodka?"
Claire gave her a peculiar indescribable look before saying "Icky, but yeah."
***
"Bender gave you a fucking purity ring?" Allison said, taking a swig with a smirk, feeling it hit the back of her throat.
"Yep. I think it was a joke, but I couldn't tell." She let out a little giggle.
Its insane how quickly alcohol can change someones mood.
"I was only ever with him to get back at my parents anyway," Claire continued, and Allison got a quite stupid idea.
"Do you," She paused to get a little closer, "...Still want to get back at your parents?"
Claire narrowed her eyes at Allison, silently kind of saying 'you're drunk', "What are you implying?"
"Well, sure, fucking.. Mr. Wrap Sheet would've pissed 'em off, right? But..You know what would piss them off more?"
She cocked an eyebrow.
"Fucking a girl."
Claire's eyes widened, and she simply stared down at the girl. It was a kind of beautiful stasis, fragile and delicate.
"I'm not a dyke." She said dryly.
Seemingly, that jolted Allison back to her normal self. What the fuck did she expect? No girl like her would risk it. God, she was so stupid.
"Yeah, me neither, sorry."
***
To be continued