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Soyona Santos is really sick of her friends. Sick of the way they lurk at the lunch tables to laugh at everyone else, sick of how they whisper and giggle behind their hands, sick of seeing disgust wrinkle their eyes into a look of utmost scorn that scalds anyone it touches with an instant splash of self–loathing.
Soyona isn't stupid. She knows those girls are nasty. Ellie: nothing above her eyes but mascara and a heavy fake tan. Alisha, who's wealthy and makes sure everyone knows it with her expensive designer clothes, she's the richest girl in school. And Tanya: vicious as a scorpion, and about as appealing. Sometimes, Soyona wonders why on Earth she bothers with them.
But they keep her safe. Not physically — those girls could never slap a sausage if it dared them — but socially. With them, Soyona's off the bitter battlefields of secondary school. Out of reach of the leering gangs of boys everyone knows are creeps. Away from the playground fights Soyona and her group sometimes watch with morbid curiosity. As morally fucked as it is, Soyona will take shit from them if it keeps her safe.
(A part of her wonders why she bothers avoiding it all — Lily avoids it just fine by herself. But Soyona always finds herself remembering meltdowns and malicious comments, and sneaking away from the crowd to find Lily, crying and shaking and rocking in a cupboard somewhere, and Soyona sitting with her, shielding Lily's head as she slammed it at the wall, until it was over.)
Sometimes, she worries if the same fate befalls all of her— their— her friends’ victims.
But she can't let her guilty conscience slip through the cracks of the perfect mask she puts on. She won't let anyone but one person in the world see her crumble.
So she lets them talk, and does her best to keep the damage under wraps.
Until one day, sitting in the canteen, when it all comes to a boiling point, and Soyona chooses the worst possible moment to take a bite of her sausage roll.
Tanya's eyes flit to someone walking past, and says, scorn edging her voice, “ugh, her again.”
Soyona glances to the side, and sees it's Lily. Her Lily. The Lily she sneaks away to see between classes, and the Lily she kisses behind the sports hall. The Lily no one knows Soyona loves.
“What’s y—” she starts to say, before realising her mouth is full of food and, to her humiliation, spurts crumbs everywhere. Soyona's hand flies to her mouth, and her cheeks flush. She pretends not to see the others glaring at her like she's an outdated fashion trend, and dabs her mouth with a napkin. She swallows her mouthful, and is about to say what's your problem with her? but Alisha answers that question for her.
“I'm sick of her stupid dog. It smells so weird, and it's just, like... sitting there in the classroom,” she says, and the other two giggle.
“Her dog is for—” Soyona says, too quiet to be heard. Or maybe Tanya did hear, and at some point, their group dynamic shifted to a point where Soyona is no longer considered a person with anything to say that matters. She must've missed that shift, like the social cues that occasionally slip past her despite her best efforts to memorise all the unspoken rules that dictate everyone's teenage life.
“What's worse is the teachers do fuck all about her,” Tanya says — like she has any authority, Soyona thinks, swallowing the urge to roll her eyes. “She turns in homework late, and no one cares, but when I do it, I get a lunchtime.”
It's ‘cos she's special,” says Alisha.
The last word is coated in venom, disguising itself as something shiny and good. Alisha doesn't mean special in the way Soyona would mean it towards Lily. Alisha wouldn't call her special while gazing into her startlingly bright blue eyes with love and affection — that's my job, Soyona thinks defensively.
Alisha means special in the way she and the other girls manage to ruin every nice thing by coating it with a layer of unacceptability cast by their eyes, deeming it worthless by their taste.
And in the social minefield of school, their taste is the only one that matters.
“And she uses her phone in class,” Tanya adds. “I swear that isn't allowed.”
“Yeah, you're right,” says Ellie, absently tapping at her phone with long nails.
There's an explanation. There's a reason for all of it — a good reason, and if Soyona could just make them understand, maybe they'd leave Lily alone. Maybe the tiny arrows piercing Soyona's skin at every snide comment won't sting as much.
But when have they ever been remotely kind and understanding? It's a fruitless endeavour trying to explain it and Soyona knows. No point wasting her breath on them.
But then—
Then, Tanya says, “I'm starting to think there's something seriously wrong with her. She's gotta be, like, r****ded or something—”
(Soyona will take shit from them about almost anyone. She'll let them say whatever they want, as long as she can stay in the top circle and stay neatly out of trouble.)
But they can't talk about Lily like that. They can't.
Soyona’s hand stings. Tanya clutches her face, and it's then Soyona realises what she's done.
“What the fuck?!” Tanya shrieks. “You could've knocked a tooth out!” And she makes a show of probing her finger around her mouth to check.
Soyona says lowly, dangerously, “don’t you dare talk about Lily that way.”
“I'm not wrong though, she is a—”
Soyona grabs Tanya by both shoulders, and shoves her against the wall. “If you value your precious pretty mouth, you'll shut it right now. Don't say that word. Ever.”
“You have no right to tell me what to do.”
“And you have no right to talk about Lily that way. Do you know how hard she works? Course you don't, because why the fuck would you care about anyone but you?” Soyona laughs bitterly. Tanya tries to fight her, but Soyona's too strong.
“I'll tell you. Lily's mum has a chronic illness, and they have no one else but a neighbour or two. Not even a second parent. So Lily cares for her mother all the time. Down to changing her clothes, bathing her, cooking dinner, cleaning the whole damn house! Even one of those responsibilities would have you whining like a bitch baby, and Lily does it all.”
“So?” Tanya pants.
“So, she gets to use her phone to check on her mum. So, she gets to hand in homework late because she barely has any time to do it. So, she gets to keep Felix — that's his name, by the way — with her in school because he's the one thing that keeps her regulated and from mentally breaking apart. You should count yourself lucky you aren't in her shoes.”
Soyona trails off, reality slowly fading back. People's voices are buzzing all around her, and a teacher far off shouts, “Miss Santos! Get off her right now.”
Soyona's grip loosens, and Tanya shoves her back. “You'll regret that.”
“I don't think I will,” Soyona says, laughing madly, teetering on the edge of giddy relief. “Because I am done with you.” The words are freeing, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once. It's like how Soyona felt zooming down the rollercoasters at Chessington when she went last month with her mum and Lily. The gasp of excitement that ripped from her throat when the carriage hurtled straight down could only parallel the gasp when Lily kissed her afterwards, lips warm and commanding and perfect against Soyona's mouth.
And it's the reminder of Lily, her Lily, that gives her the bravery to say, “you, Tanya Jones, are a fucking twat.”
With that, Soyona double flips her off, turns away, and leaves.
Or rather, tries to. The crowd around them forms an impenetrable fortress and Soyona, no matter how hard she glares and pointedly whisper–growls, “let me through,” they keep her trapped. It's almost like they're caging two wild animals in to see who kills the other first.
This is why I don't get on Tanya's bad side, she thinks dryly. She's stuck, frantically surveying the crowd, when a distinct, three–note whistle calls her name.
Soy–OH–nah: that's the rhythm. The notes go low, then up, then slightly lower. Lily knows the note names, but all Soyona remembers is the softly soaring shape of it. And the lips that whistle it.
Lily.
“Lily?” Soyona shouts, craning her neck. “Lily, I'm here.” Adrenaline bursts through her, giving her the force to push through the crowds, a mass of hot, bustling bodies almost suffocating her — until she bursts out at once to see Lily, Felix by her side, standing motionless at the edge of the crowd, staring right into Soyona's eyes.
“Lily?” Soyona reaches for her hand.
Lily flinches away. “You told them.”
“I— what?”
“You told them about my mum... you swore you wouldn't tell anyone.”
“Oh— fuck, I'm so sorry, I honestly forgot, it just slipped out—” excuses burble from Soyona's mouth like a river.
“It's...” consideration flashes across Lily's face, before her features harden. Soyona's heart plummets into her shoes. “Actually, it's not okay. I'm angry at you.”
Soyona's heart breaks into a million pieces; each broken shard sends a stab of pain resonating through her chest. She pushes out a “thank you for being honest” though her mouth feels full of toffee.
“I need some space to think,” Lily says, already turning away. Felix trots after her, and Soyona is left with one piece of her heart walking away, her invisible shield behind her, and her mind pulling her in both directions so hard it feels like her head is splitting in half.