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High school parties aren’t places people like Golf Ball belong.
It was where people like Puffball, Fries, and Pencil would hang out. Not Golf Ball though. She would usually be doing some sort of science, something productive, not this.
Yet, she’d lost a bet. It was unlike her to lose, but she always honors her promises. Always. Of course, that wasn’t to say she didn’t put up a fuss.
It’d taken Puffball an hour to get Golf Ball in an “socially acceptable” outfit, but eventually they’d settled on one of Puffball’s plaid skirts, some leggings, and a button up. Puffball had also insisted that she’d braid Golf Ball’s hair, keeping it out of her usual frizzy puffed-up hairstyle.
Golf Ball felt pretty, which wasn’t something she’d usually say, partially because she didn’t care. She would never say they to Puffball’s face though, because as much as she loves Puffball, the girl will take any praise and hold it close to her heart.
She didn’t know what to expect when she came, but it was akin to her expectations. A bunch of sweaty teenagers, mingling and chugging soda like it was real alcohol. Golf Ball was glad to see that there was no actual alcohol too.
Today was what Puffball had described as a “small party”, which apparently, meant fifty people. Immediately, Puffball had gone over to Fries, and Golf Ball hadn’t wanted to be associated with them, so she’d drifted over to Firey and Gelatin. They’d been eating heaps and heaps of food to the side, and immediately let Golf Ball stand near them. Of course, she wasn’t going to join them in their disgusting hobbies.
As she grabs a glass of some beverage (it’s clear, so it couldn’t be that bad), she feels an arm yank on hers. Golf Ball blinks, turning towards Puffball, and setting her cup down.
“Yes?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
Puffball bounces next to her, the other hand clutching Fries’ wrist. “They’re playing Seven Minutes in Heaven! C’mon, you have to join!”
“No, Puffball, I do not have to join. I had to come, yes, because I was bound by a promise, but I am not under any sort of obligation to join.”
“Pleeeeeease?” Puffball begs, blinking with puppy dog eyes.
“What even is this game? This Seven Minutes in Heaven?”
Fries speaks up, wrapping his arm around Puffball’s shoulders. “Alright, so someone spins a bottle and it lands on someone right? Kinda like Spin the Bottle, and you better know what that is. Then those two get locked up in a closet for seven minutes and they can do whatever the fuck they want to in there.”
“Hmm. Alright. Considering how many people are playing, it is unlikely that I will be picked, so I will watch.” Golf Ball also doesn’t think that being chosen would be that horrible, as it’s really whatever the two participants would like, and Golf Ball wouldn’t participate in anything too… over the top.
“Hey, ya never know!” Puffball exclaims, yanking Golf Ball away before she can say bye to Firey and Gelatin. She just sighs and accepts her fate. This was the life of being friends with Puffball.
The circle is pretty big, but the head is very obvious - Match, Pencil, Bubble, Ruby, Ice Cube, and Book, or as they call themselves, “Freesmart”. This was a party hosted by Pen, which was how Golf Ball got her invite, as they were friends, but Pen didn’t care for the popularity. He was just chilling with his “bros”, Eraser and Blocky. He was content giving the reins of the party to his sister, Pencil, and her friends.
Pencil looks… evil, as usual. Her shorts are barely covering her legs, fishnet stockings also not doing a good job. Her tank top is tight, something that Golf Ball can’t see the appeal of. Isn’t it… uncomfortable?
No matter. Pencil was her worst enemy. That was something that was widely known throughout the whole school. They were opposites, Pencil being popular, and Golf Ball being a “nerd”. But they constantly butted heads.
There were small moments hidden though. She knew stuff about Pencil most didn’t. Those days after school when Golf Ball would find Pencil at the back of the school, crying because her parents forgot her, or struggling with her homework because she was obviously dyslexic, she was just too prideful to admit it.
However, Golf Ball had all rights to be here. She just had to… avoid Pencil.
Everyone’s conversing and laughing, so loud that Golf Ball can’t hear Puffball next to him. That is, until, Match stands up, putting WAY too much trust in her clothes, and ringing a bell. Everyone quiets down and stares at her.
“Like, alright guys!” Match announces, smiling widely. “We’re going to start our, like, game. So, this coke can- ugh, like, WHY is the can shattered?”
“WOOPS!” Eraser yells, laughing. “Sorry, I’ll get a new one!”
Before Golf Ball can process what happened, he pops open a bottle of this coke that was imported from Mexico, and starts pouring it straight down his throat.
“CHUG CHUG CHUG!” the whole room starts screaming, including Puffball. Golf Ball shrinks back at all the noise, watching in disgust as the liquid sinks down his throat. He doesn’t even swallow it. It just goes… down.
She cringes as he smacks it down, popping his lips. “There ya go, Match. You still pissed that I broke that bottle?”
“Oh, like, nah, I guess. That was impressive. Alright! So basically!” she rings the bell once more, “one person like, spins the bottle, and it lands on another person. They can go into Pence-Pence’s, like, closet, and they spend seven minutes there. Y’know, their, like, ‘seven minutes in heaven’!”
Everyone cheers, an ugly noise to Golf Ball’s ears. She lets her face twist in disdain as she watches Match crawl to the middle of the circle and take the bottle from Eraser, poising her fingers around it, like she’s experienced, and twisting it.
It spins. And it spins. And then it lands on…
“What? No!” Liy exclaims, face turning bright red. Match’s face is also the same color as her hair.
Most people grew up not knowing about gay relationships, so it came as a shell-shock to everyone when, in eighth grade, Match had announced her relationship with Liy. Of course, no one could judge Match, she was just… too cool.
When they’d broken up in tenth grade, it was also a shock, seeing as they were what most would call “a match made in heaven”.
“Like, alright!” Match exclaims, trying to keep a smile on her face. “Um, I guess, let’s like, go, Liy!”
Pencil giggles, yanking them both away, into a closet right behind Golf Ball. Pencil laughs obnoxiously as they fall in, sing-songingly whispering “good luuuuck” at them. Everyone else laughs with her as she gestures for the others to come over.
Golf Ball stays in her spot as everyone crowds by the door, shushing each other, and shushing each other's shushes. She really couldn’t care less, in fact, it seems like an invasion of privacy, and not something Golf Ball would like happening to her.
Who would she even go in with? No one really knew her. Everyone would either stay silent with her, strike up some awkward conversation, or try to do something weird as hell, like Eraser. The only people she’d really like to get? Puffball, or maybe Firey or Gelatin. Everyone else would just be a total doofus in that closet, and she didn’t want to spend seven minutes in a cramped closet with a dumbass.
After what doesn’t feel like seven minutes, Pencil lets the door open, and Golf Ball gets a glimpse of both Liy and Match. They’re both bright red, and even she finds a bit of humor in the situation. But that was only because they were assholes and deserved it. She didn’t want that to happen to herself.
Oh, maybe jinxes are real.
Everyone else creates their rough circle again, laughing until Pencil rings the bell, smiling devilishly. “It’s my turn!”
Pencil walks towards the middle, grabbing the bottle and raising an eyebrow, staring at everyone. “Alright, guys! Here I go!”
She leans down, spinning the bottle. Golf Ball finds herself curious this time, wondering who Pencil’s going to be forced to spend the next seven minutes with.
It spins. Again. And hey, the cork is facing Golf Ball!
Hey. The cork is facing Golf Ball.
Immediately, a cheer rises from the crowd, and Golf Ball looks up, hoping her face isn’t red as Pencil’s. But she can feel that it is. Her eyes widen as Pencil gets up, shocked face immediately morphing into a giant smile. “Well, look who we got! Golf Ball! I thought parties weren’t your… scene.”
“O-oh. Well, we both know you aren’t usually right about many things, if your test scores reflect anything.” She ignores the rush of pride the cheers around the room give her.
Pencil rolls her eyes. “Not all of us base our self esteem over grades.” Before Golf Ball can respond, she’s already slipped past her. “What are you waiting for? Matchy was very clear about the rules.”
Golf Ball scrambles to her feet, glancing at Puffball with a panicked look. Puffball just shrugs, mouthing ‘good luck!’ at her. Golf Ball inhales, trying to steel herself as she slips into that small, dark closet, thinking jinxes are definitely real.
It’s cramped. Pencil’s on the further side of the closet, and her feet are next to Golf Ball’s hips, Golf Ball also decides to extend her legs, blinking to get used to the dark, which is a big contrast from the blinding lights outside.
“God, this shirt hurts,” is the first thing Pencil mutters. “It’s so tight.”
“Then why d’you wear it?” Golf Ball asks.
“Easy. It makes me look… confident. It’s what’s expected of me.”
“…oh.”
“We don’t all have it as easy as you, Bossy Bot. Some of us have to try.”
“Try? You don’t try? You cheat, and copy, and then cry into my shirt at four P.M., making me believe you have potential, then go back to bullying me.”
Pencil laughs. “Bullying you? I have never bullied you.” Golf Ball can practically hear the hair swish.
“Bullying is defined by continued harassment of someone for a feature. You and your ‘friends’ would continuously harass me for how I looked like a nerd. That is classified as bullying.”
She’s silent for a moment. “It wasn’t because of that. You’re just… how do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Be so confident yet so… smart… effortlessly? I have to tie my torso up, wear shorts shorter than Coiny, surround myself with so many people to even be able to put up a confident act.”
“I just… I dunno. I don’t let what people say affect me. I like science. I don’t like people that much. That’s who I am.”
“But how are you just… you?”
“Pencil? Who are you? Without the makeup and stuff?”
“I hate school. Especially English. I like being with people.”
“Yeah. Just be… that. You’ll find yourself being more confident.”
Pencil’s quiet for a few seconds, and Golf Ball is about to ask what happened until she hears a sniffle.
Oh.
Small shudders and sniffs are coming out of the teenage girl in front of her, and Golf Ball hears her legs sliding until Pencil is holding her knees to her face.
Golf Ball’s never been the best at social cues. But she’s pretty sure this means she’s supposed to comfort Pencil.
“Hey,” she mutters, reaching out. She’s not sure how, but Pencil’s able to see her hand, and reaches back, and their fingers connect.
”Yeah…?” Pencil mutters back, voice a bit congested.
“I still have that hoodie. From… that day in the rain.” Pencil says nothing, so Golf Ball continues. “That day you were left at school. You were crying, under that tree where you were still getting soaked.”
“Oh yeah. What were you doing there?”
“I didn’t say this but… I walk home from school everyday. My parents don’t like to go through the trouble of picking me up. So, I often stay late. Anyway, I was wearing a white t-shirt. You started crying and I let you cry into my shoulder ’cause you said you didn’t want me to leave. Anyway, your makeup started running and it smeared my shirt. So you gave me your hoodie.”
“I remember.”
“Yeah. Sometimes I come home frustrated as hell at you. Then I look at that and remember… there’s stuff below the surface I haven’t seen.”
“God, Golf Ball. I know I tease you, but you’re… I’m jealous of you. Of your easy friendships.”
“They’re not easy. I have to put in effort too. I’m not fake, though. I just compromise, work around my flaws, and theirs. Unless it’s Fries then I just threaten him until he does what I say.”
Pencil laughs, then sniffs. “I wish I didn’t have to be fake in my friendships.”
Golf Ball stays silent for a moment, then speaks up again. “You don’t have to be fake. Real friends will appreciate you for whoever you are. And… you don’t have to be fake with me.”
“Ugh, no ’cause I know Matchy will love me however I am. But the rest of Freesmart? The school? I just- I don’t know,” they’re both silent for a second, then Pencil continues: “okay, hey. You shared a memory, I share one too. Okay, so, remember that day where I was at the park with Pen doing some homework? And you came during your walk?”
“Yeah. That was actually me walking home from school. I stayed late for Science Olympiad.”
“Smarty pants. Anyway, remember how you helped me with my math homework? And then with reading Hamlet? I just… I’d gotten a 95 on that math test and an 86 on that Hamlet essay. It’s the best I’d ever gotten. I really wanted to ask you for more help, to maybe get higher than just passing, but I can’t do anything right, can I? I let my grades slip again out of fear you’d think I’m… stupid. And I kept bullying you, because I was jealous and too scared to ask for help.”
“You’re not stupid,” Golf Ball whispers. “I certainly don’t think that. I just say that because…”
“Because I’m so rude to you? Yeah, I know. It’s just… I’m paranoid. I know I’m not the best at school, but-”
”Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t believe grades reflect smarts. No, it’s character that does. I used to believe your inability to work on your grades was the problem, I thought you were lazy. I now know I’m wrong.”
Pencil sniffs, before laughing in that way one only laughs after crying. “Goddammit, you probably smeared my makeup.”
“Oh, I can try to help with that,” Golf Ball (sadly) lets go of Pencil’s hand, grabs her phone, turning on the flashlight. Pencil’s mascara is smeared around her eyes - and on her hands - her eyes are red, her lipstick is wetly smeared from the tears, and so is her concealer, or whatever. “Ah. You might have to go fix this.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not that bad. I’ll just-” Golf Ball uses her thumb to rub the excess lipstick off, then the rest of her fingers to try to fix the mascara, which helps a little, but there’s still black smeared. “I don’t think I can do much more.”
Pencil grabs her own phone, turning on the camera - and the flash - and staring at herself. After a few seconds, she sighs. “I’ll just remove my makeup. Gotta… be who I am, right?”
“Yeah. But- wait, Pencil, there’s some mascara right here…” Golf Ball leans forward, legs slipping over Pencil’s, and turning her face towards Golf Ball’s. She brings her finger up to remove the mascara, then smiles at Pencil. “All done.”
As their eyes meet, Golf Ball’s breath catches. She realizes that her face is very close to Pencil’s, one hand under Pencil’s chin and the other next to her cheek. And she’s on top of Pencil.
“Oh,” Pencil whispers. But she stays still, not moving.
Golf Ball’s also practically frozen in place, staring at Pencil. She feels Pencil’s arms go up her legs, then her arms, up to her shoulders where they hang off.
She’s not sure who leans forward first, only that they’re very close. Golf Ball can feel Pencil’s breath on her, and desperately hopes her own smells okay.
Everything feels too small in this closet. But it also feels… liberating. Like there’s no one else but her and Pencil. No one else matters. The world is just the two of them, no makeup, no mask, no faking.
It makes her hyper aware. She can feel the pointer finger on Pencil’s left hand stroking small circles into the tippy top of Golf Ball’s back, and the way her right leg keeps jittering. She can feel the way Pencil’s breath catches every time Golf Ball shifts, and sees how her eyes keep squinting, as if unsure of what’s going to happen.
Uncertainty isn’t something Golf Ball often sees on Pencil.
The space between them isn’t much. All Golf Ball has to do is close it. But she also doesn’t want to just… do it.
They drift like two magnets, opposite yet attracted by a force, until the space is microscopic, but it’s still there because Golf Ball can’t feel Pencil’s lips on hers. She wants to feel Pencil’s lips on hers, she really does.
Golf Ball blinks, the feeling surreal, as if it’s going to make Pencil disappear. But nope. When she opens her eyes, Pencil’s still there. She’s solid.
They’re so close. Right there. But just as she’s about to feel Pencil’s lips on hers, probably the sweetest feeling known to mankind-
The light hits her. “Seven minutes are over!” Match cheers.
Golf Ball’s not sure if she’s ever felt her soul leave her body that fast before.