Work Text:
Noelle read, once, that during their teenage years, people tend to assume everyone is paying attention to them, when, in reality, they aren't. That isn't what Noelle is doing, she reassures herself, as she spritzes herself with sugarplum-scented perfume and tries, for the third time this morning, to flatten a stubborn cowlick in her hair.
No, she's hoping Susie is paying attention to her. Desperately. She's volunteered to take on extra tasks whenever it's Susie's turn; she's bought an entire case full of candy cane pencils in case Susie asks for another one; she picks her outfit each day by asking herself what Susie would like the most. She waits until Susie leaves the room to head out, with the hope that she'll get a glimpse of her tail, and gets up early each morning just to be sure she's able to say hello to Susie as she enters the classroom (even if she's never on time). She's talked about Susie to her dad, at length, during her hospital visits, doodled her in the margins of her class notes, written about her in her diary, and replaced each and every one of her childhood fantasies of her and the kid next door with Susie. She's even practiced writing their names in cursive, like on their wedding invitations: Noelle and Susie Holiday.
Now all she needed was just for Susie to look her way. Any day.