Chapter Text
If Marge has to watch Patty Stanton and Tim What's-His-Face make out at lunch one more time she's going to lose it.
Patty and Tim started dating two weeks ago when he showed up at her locker with a handful of roses and a lame poster that read ”Be Mine?”.
Marge almost gagged right there in the hallway.
But ever since then Patty's boyfriend shows up every day, without fail, to their table and sucks face with her (also without fail) till the bell rings.
Safe to say, lunch is officially her least favorite part of the day now.
“They're a cute couple,” Elaine whispers to her, “I wish I had a boyfriend.”
Next to them Rhonda snorts. “You still got the hots for snot-nosed Scotty? I'm sure he would go out with you.” she says through a mouthful of gum.
Marge deserves an award for sustaining her eye roll. Scotty Mills was perfectly fine, snot-nosed or not. He was a step up from Tim that's for sure. She's not sure if she's ever met someone as stuck up and air-headed as Patty's boyfriend. He is the picture perfect jock stereotype; with his floppy blonde hair and condescending smile.
She doesn't voice these thoughts though, she quite likes her spot at the Pattycakes’ table no matter how slimey Patty and Tim's lip-locking looks.
Patty breaks away from Tim– whether to get a gasp of fresh air or add in her own two cents to the conversation, Marge isn't sure –and turns around to face them. She has that look in her face, the mean look. “I think he's perfect for you Ellie, you guys seem to have a lot in common.”
It sounds sweet to anyone outside their group, like Patty is a supportive friend, but Marge knows better. It's said in a tone similar to the one that Marge's mother uses when talking to her church friends– all catty with no ounce of honesty. Rhonda blows a particularly large bubble to hide her smirk.
Elaine immediately falters. It's no secret that she did have the hots for Scotty, but that was all the way back in middle-school. She told them in a rare burst of confidence only to have her friends erupt in laughter, Marge still regrets that awful rendition she made about Scotty's sniffles. Patty has never let Elaine forget that moment of vulnerability to this day.
Right now, Patty is a hunter and Elaine is her quivering prey.
Marge's subconscious must think she has to be the hero in this fucked up version of Bambi because for once, she speaks up. “He's kind of funny.”
Suddenly Marge is the prey now.
Her half-assed attempt of defending Elaine and Scotty's honor has led to Patty's sharp eyes landing on her now.
“You think so, Margie? Maybe he should be your boyfriend instead." The blonde's smirk is cruel and unwavering.
Elaine– the goddam traitor– hides a giggle behind her sleeve while Tim and Rhonda don't even bother to hide their own obnoxious cackles.
Patty still doesn't seem to be done, “Speaking of boyfriends, why don't you have a boyfriend Marge?”
Her face is heating up now. It's not that Marge can’t get a boyfriend, she simply doesn't want one. They don't seem all that fun to her; all the boys in Derry High school have sweat stains on their shirts and greasy excuses for hair– except the jocks, but they don't appreciate her humor enough for Marge to remotely consider dating one of them.
This however, is too much sensitivity for Patty and her lackeys to wrap their head around so Marge does what she does best.
“Gee Patty– Ask a girl to dinner first before you start asking questions like that!” Marge places a hand against her heart and pulls her best ‘scandalised maiden’ look.
This reply doesn't get any laughs out of her friends. Okay, biased little shits.
The glare Tim sends her is downright hostile while Patty sticks her nose up. She starts to respond, some cruel reproach at the tip of her tongue but the bell rings before any words come out.
There is a God out there and he clearly loves Marge.
She doesn't let this act of divine intervention go to waste and quickly scoops up her tray, making a beeline to the exit.
But something catches her eye before she can leave.
Marge is dumping the remnants of her lunch in the trash when she sees the small group laughing amongst themselves. She recognizes them.
Ronnie Grogan is hand-in-hand with Will Hanlon and laughing at some joke her friend made. Marge makes out a head of brown hair and their school's marching band uniform– It must be Rich. There's two more boys at the table but she can't make out their faces.
There's a girl aswell– sporting the same uniform as Rich along with a shiny flute case. Her back is to Marge so she can only see the girl's cascade of black hair.
It's like the stranger can sense Marge's eyes on her because she sharply turns around.
Icy blue eyes bore into Marge's own and she suddenly understands now.
That's no stranger. Just Lilly Bainbridge.
Lilly scowls almost immediately when she spots Marge, her glare hurts more than Patty's in some ways.
Marge has the shame to avert her eyes first and bites the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something stupid like Hi. That's the only interaction they share before Lilly turns back around, schooling her features into a warm smile again.
If Marge walks a little faster to the cafeteria exit afterwards then that's no one's business.
*
Marge doesn't see Patty or any other Pattycake for the rest of the day, until gym class atleast. She doesn't know if it's a curse or blessing that she doesn't have any of her friends in her classes– on one hand Marge doesn't have to hear them spew their vitriol all day but the only means she doesn't have anybody to talk to.
She's a fun person to be around. Sort of.
Sure, her jokes don't always land right and maybe, her accents are considered unfunny by atleast half of the school population.
But Marge is a good, honest person. She doesn't unnecessarily harass teachers like Tim or make unsavory noises with her mouth like Rhonda (Although Patty might consider Marge just talking as an unsavory noise, but whatever)
She's definitely not a jerk like Patty– well, half of the time anyway. Marge likes to think of her jerk-wad moments as unhappy accidents; they always occur when she's either in a bad mood or trying to be funny in awkward situations. The occurrences are almost always the latter.
Marge wipes her sweaty palms on the old school gym shorts and makes her way to Patty. It's one class– her last class of the day and afterwards she can scream into her pillow.
Patty is on the bleachers, arms crossed. Tim is sitting next to her with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. It would be a heart warming display if Marge couldn't see the scowl on Patty's face. It's deep and sends all sorts of alarm bells off in her head.
Marge continues walking. She never had any good survival instincts.
“Hey Patty!” Marge smiles so wide her cheeks hurt. Her friend can sniff out fear like a bloodhound so Marge has to school her features perfectly. It's a lot like poker– if poker had the same stakes as Russian roulette.
Patty greets her with her own smile, except her’s is a lot more biting. She doesn't give Marge any indication to sit so Marge just stands in front of the couple with her arm tapping against her leg.
“How are the love-birds doing?” Marge squeaks out. She regrets it the minute the words are out of her mouth.
Patty simply raises a brow and Tim's frown deepens. The two reminded her of evil cartoon characters, all they needed was a cat to pet in their laps to finish the look.
Patty’s boyfriend opens his mouth–
SMACK
Marge barely has time to move out of the way and lands flat on her ass. The basketball that interrupted them must have managed to graze Patty's arm because Tim immediately pulls her closer towards him.
When she turns her head she finds an open-mouthed Will Hanlon staring at the three of them. The poor boy looks like he wants the gym floor to swallow him whole. He gives them a sheepish wave that only Marge returns.
Tim gets up and begins marching towards the boy when Lilly suddenly appears. She's in the same school issued gym uniform as the rest of the class but it seems to work for her. Her hair is also tied up with a pretty blue ribbon now. Lilly stares down at her.
She grabs Will's arm and barely gives them another glance as she drags her friend away.
Marge realizes, embarrassingly, that she's still on the floor.
She looks between Patty and Tim and concludes that neither of them will help her up. Marge picks herself up and shakes off imaginary dust from her clothes. Now would be the time to chime in with a comedic anecdote but one look at Tim's red face tells Marge everything she needs to know.
They don't talk again for the rest of gym.
*
The day is over and Marge doesn't have to see wretched Tim or the Pattycakes until tomorrow morning.
Or so she thought.
Marge is face to face with Patty's white convertible and an awfully familiar smirk. Maybe God hated Marge after all.
Patty gestures with the hand not on the steering wheel for Marge to get in. Even from the school gates Marge can tell it's an order, not a request.
They drive around for a while, passing the diner and the Capitol Theatre. Patty isn't driving to the directions of her house and Marge is too scared to ask where they're going. For all she knows they're heading up to a nice, secluded area for Patty to dispose of her body.
There's no Rhonda, no Elaine. He'll, there's not even Tim to save her. There's no witnesses and Marge is almost sure that Patty could get away with murder.
After a few minutes Patty parks outside a house.
It's Patty's house.
So, no impromptu murder spree tonight.
Marge almost weeps for joy.
She reaches to open her door when she finds it still locked. Marge isn't sure why Patty thought this would be intimidating considering the fact that her car has an open top, so Marge could really just climb out if she were desperate enough.
She doesn't though. She's pretty sure Patty would scream if her mud-tracked shoes stained her cushy leather seats.
Patty is the one the break the silence, “Margaret,”
“Patricia?” Marge adds on, not quite meeting the other's eyes.
Patty's eyes narrow and her smile falls even flatter. It looks like Marge said the wrong thing (again).
“We need to talk.”
Good lord, was she about to get a lecture from her mother or get verbally eviscerated by her friend?
“Why? You breakin’ up with me or something, Patty?” Marge manages to force out instead.
“Or something,” Patty replies. Her eyes are steel fortresses that don't let any emotion slip out. She bores them into Marge's own and gives her the look– the mean one. “We're both mature women, right? So I'm going to say this plainly,”
Marge isn't sure what dream realm she stumbled into because in what world would Patty Stanton ever call her a mature woman.
Marge closes her eyes and prays to the God that has favored her all day to bring in one more distraction– another basketball, perhaps? She crosses her fingers for extra measure.
Please, give me another out.
Patty's going to skin her alive for that comment during lunch. She doesn't like it when anyone talks down to her. She's going to think Marge is coming for her crown, or–
“Do you have a crush on my boyfriend?”
What?
Marge splutters, “Excuse me?”
“Do you like Tim?” Patty repeats calmly, too calmly.
Now how the hell did she reach that conclusion? Did that basketball hit her head or something? “What! No, of course not!”
“You sure?” Patty replies with a sickly sweet tone, “I won't be mad, y'know?”
Well, that's a lie. Marge can practically see the smoke coming out of her friend's ears.
“It's just that– well, I have eyes, Marge,” She continues, “I know he's a dreamboat and all but even you have to know crushing on your best friend's boy isn't the way to go.”
Marge wants to cut in, wants to defend herself from these bullshit accusations when Patty holds up her hand, “I tried to ignore it, tried telling myself you would never do that to me but what happened at lunch really opened my eyes. You were all over him.”
Marge must've hallucinated lunch because she has no memory of this.
“It's making him uncomfortable Margie,” She says like she's talking to a child, “It's gotta stop.”
“Okay– one, I'm not all over your boyfriend! second, I would never do that to you, Patty!” Marge hisses when Patty doesn't say anything more, “I don't even like–”
“I think you're jealous.”
Marge would've preferred her body being buried in a sketchy forest than continue this conversation.
“You've never dated– not in middle school, definitely not now. It's no wonder you've been so snarky with us,” Patty gives her a pitying look, the look you give a wounded animal or crying toddler, “I'm sure I could set you up with one of Tim's friends, they're similar enough.”
“I don't like Tim!” Marge all but screams. Patty doesn't listen.
“You sure?”
“Yes!”
Patty hums and doesn't say anything for a long minute. She checks over her manicured nails and something must click in her head. Patty looks over at her again and puts some space between them before she speaks, “Do you like–” she drops her voice to a whisper, “–me?”
Marge's eyes widen, “No– Oh my god– no, no not at all–”
“Well that's the only explanation, Marge!” Patty is shrieking now, squishing herself up against her car door, “You've been distant and moody, you barely spend any time with us anymore! Unless you've got some secret boyfriend hidden away I'm not sure why you would act like this!”
Her brain is short-circuiting now. Marge would've rather Patty just disowned her and exiled her from the Pattycakes for good than deal with– whatever this is. It's too mortifying for Marge to put into words. She rakes a nervous hand through her hair.
It was bad enough that Patty thought Marge was harbouring a secret crush on her boyfriend, but thinking Marge had a crush on her? That was even worse.
There was no changing her mind now, Marge Truman was either carrying a secret torch for her best friend or she was hiding away a secret boyfriend. Heaven forbid Patty assumes that maybe her awful personality was what was driving Marge away.
Marge has to think of something quickly. But between Patty's yelling and her own scrambled thoughts she was coming up with nothing. She mentally went through everything that happened today.
Lunch.
Rhonda's gum.
Band uniform.
Dark hair and blue eyes–
“Lilly Bainbridge!”
Patty ceases her ranting, if only to gape at Marge. “What about Loony Lilly Bainbridge.” Her voice is dripping with anger now, she never liked it when Lilly was brought up. Why did Marge have to bring up Lilly–
Her mouth moves faster than her brain, that's the only explanation for the words that come out of her mouth next, “I'm dating Lilly Bainbridge?”
“You don't seem too sure about that!”
“It's new!” Marge scrambles for an explanation, “We just started seeing each other and I didn't wanna mention it because–” she promptly shuts her mouth when she catches the look on Patty's face; it has anger and disgust oozing out of it.
“I'm sorry,” She stutters out instead, “it's just– I know you don't like her so I thought, why bring it up? y'know..” Marge tries to send a half-hearted smile but it's of no use.
The damage is done. Her words have finally gotten her in trouble. Patty would kick her out and the entire school would know that she was a–
“It's okay, I get it.”
Again. What?
“I mean, I don't get it, obviously,” Patty elaborates, “I just mean I understand why you didn't say anything.” The words are oddly comforting and for once Marge isn't sure if this a facade Patty is putting up. Her tone is flat and her eyes are bored. All of the hate and red-hot anger is nowhere to be seen. It's like the calm after a storm.
Patty gets out of the car and harshly slams her car door shut, Marge follows.
“It's just a shame you got bad taste, Margie.”
That's the last thing she says to Marge before stomping up to her porch and slamming her house door shut too.
Marge realizes a little too late that Patty was never going to drive her home.
Marge was going to have to walk home.
Marge was going to scream into her pillow.
And Marge was now apparently dating Lilly Bainbridge.
Well, Fuck.