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Emily could sense that it was too late for her to be awake, but she couldn’t stop giggling with Skeeter on the other end of the call. She was hidden underneath her covers, her phone the brightest light source in the pitch-black room. She was supposed to be asleep fifteen minutes ago, but she wasn’t able to resist when Skeeter asked to call. It was a rare occasion, anyway, and she assumed that her own parents were also asleep.
“Okay, okay, and that’s not even the worst part—“ Skeeter choked out, beady tears forming in her eyes from laughing. “Kenny and Bobbie had to present together, and Kenny put Triple-T on all of their slides— and Ricky wouldn’t stop saying—“
Mid-cackle, a knock on the door interrupted their laughter. Emily felt her voice break off in a second while Skeeter continued to laugh.
“Shit— sorry Skeeter, one second,” she stammered, muting both her microphone and volume before sliding her phone beneath her pillow with practiced ease. She didn't stop for a second to see if Skeeter said goodbye.
A sliver of light appeared from the hall outside as the door opened, revealing Emily’s mother behind it.
“Who are you talking to?” She asked before Emily could even think about getting a word in.
“My friend from photography,” she said quickly, praying that she wouldn’t ask for specifics. It wasn’t entirely a lie, just incredibly far from the truth. Emily’s parents had always had the most ridiculous rules—a strict section of them revolving around dating. Maybe if she found a boy her age, a nice one who’d be willing to go to church with them, they’d be delighted. But that wasn’t the kind of person who she had her eyes on.
Emily’s mother looked her up and down as if she was a human lie detector. Thankfully, Emily had been a natural in the art of deceit since the eighth grade.
“You’ll be missing your piano lessons this week. Your teacher is sick, though he will be better next week,” she said.
Emily let out a breath she couldn’t tell she was holding. “Alright, thank you, Mum,” she replied, her voice quivering the slightest bit with sudden excitement. No piano meant a free day after school tomorrow for once in her life. A free day after school meant a day to be herself—to hang out with Skeeter.
“Get some rest. Goodnight,” her mother said before closing the door. As soon as the sound of her footsteps disappeared, Emily’s face broke out into a giddy smile. She reached back under her pillow, expecting her finger to naturally drift towards the unmute button, to tell Skeeter the news. Instead, she was met with being no longer on the call, and a message.
skeeter : sorry i had to go
goodnight emi
She let out a shaky, disappointed sigh. Skeeter’s quick change in tone over text told her everything.
Skeeter was rightfully upset at her lack of availability. Most nights they called or dated they went on had to be cut short because of something or other in Emily’s schedule. She just didn’t know how to fix her problem—her parents would probably never let her see the light of day again if they ever found out. They always questioned where she was going, who she was with, when she would be back. She couldn’t even text Skeeter anything romantic because of how often they checked her phone.
It was some sick joke the universe was playing on her, choosing between her parents and her safety, or between Skeeter and her happiness.
It felt like her heart dropped lower every second the morning dragged on.
Emily had spotted Skeeter earlier, but she only gave her a wave and what looked like a forced smile before running off to something else. Every time she saw Skeeter’s back turned towards her, it felt like the pit in her stomach grew hollower. Now, by fourth period, Emily had hardly spoken to anyone all day. Everything was just getting her more and more irritated, not just upset.
Her project partners yammered on about something completely unrelated to class as Emily sat in what felt like her owl bubble, being the only one with the assignment open. Usually, she was used to having to deal with the workload, but it was the day that she couldn’t handle it. She was bitterly typing up her finishing touches on her portion of the work, praying that her teacher wouldn’t give her a bad grade for what everyone else had messed up.
Emily shut her computer, seeing that she still had lots of time left to waste in class. I need a breather, she thought, getting up from her seat and eyeing her classmates, annoyed.
She walked over to the teacher’s desk, feeling somewhat disappointed in herself for having to take a break. She was always the person who was constantly on top of things. The one who had everything under control, even when her life felt like a complete mess.
Her teacher made eye contact as she approached, looking up from her own computer.
“Miss? Could I go for a walk?” Emily asked, tone weary.
“Of course,” her teacher responded. She rushed herself out of the room in an instant.
Emily breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the classroom to see that the halls were deserted. She shoved her hands in her pockets, gaze trained to the floor, as confused with herself as ever. Her footsteps echoed in the back of her brain as her thoughts ran through her head. It wasn’t like Skeeter could solve the problem—they had already talked about any solution they could think of, and Emily was tired of feeling like she was pressuring her. Bobbie was hardly a consideration for advice anymore, he was never any help. Stuart wasn’t exactly the guy to go to for relationship advice, since he was still getting over his last girlfriend, who Skeeter had dubbed “She Who Shall Not Be Named”. That left her with no one else she felt close enough to talk to about something so trivial, so who—
“Wow, Emi, can’t believe you’re skipping.”
Her eyes snapped upwards at the sound of that Boston accent addressing her when she turned the corner.
Ricky stood at the other end of the hallway, headphones wrung around his neck, the 3D-printed Garfield figure that Mr. Wilkins used as a hall pass in his hand.
“I’m not skipping, I’m just taking a walk. Besides, I don’t think you should be talking,” she teased. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lip as he approached her.
“What class are you supposed to be in?” He asked, grinning enough to show the tiny dimple embedded in his cheek.
“History,” Emily groaned. Ricky nodded shortly, but his expression quickly became puzzled. His brow furrowed, almost like he was suspicious of something.
“What?” She questioned.
“You sound different. Is something wrong?” He asked flatly.
Emily blinked. She could tell that people were realizing she was in a bad mood, but that quickly? “How do you just… know that?”
Ricky shrugged, “I can read people’s minds.” He giggled, then paused. “And Skeeter was acting strange earlier too, so I assumed it had something to do with that. Negative correlation.”
Emily let out a heavy sigh. He was basically Skeeter’s long lost twin, of course he knew.
She leaned against the wall, forgetting how long she had already been out of class for. “Can I ask for some advice about something?” She asked, the overwhelming day she had ready to burst. Ricky shifted to stand next to her, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Course’.”
“I feel like I don’t know how to be a good girlfriend—I tell Skeeter so many empty promises, and I really do love her, but I don’t know how to show it without being worried of my crazy religious parents killing me if they found out, and Bobbie is literally the worst person to ask for advice from,”—Ricky nodded at that as Emily continued—“because he won’t shut the fuck up about how he had a crush on me in middle school! And everyone is just making me lose my mind and I can’t tell if I’m the crazy one here or not!” She finished, catching her breath.
There was an impending silence as Ricky’s expression shifted from processing to being deep in thought. It was like Emily could see the gears in his head turning.
“Okay, I don’t know how long we can talk about this here, but do involve me,” he started. “Do you have a study hall today? That really sucks but I might be able to help you come up with something. Temporarily, probably.”
Emily nodded, “mhm. Sixth period.”
Ricky grinned widely, “I’ll meet you there.”
She glanced at her phone absentmindedly—seeing that she had been out of class for nearly ten minutes. “Oh, shit, I have to go— thank you, Ricky, bye!” She immediately ran off in the direction she came from.
“Cya, Emi!” He yelled after her.
Emily’s bag sat on the chair beside her, ensuring a spot for Ricky to sit as people filed into the study hall. The majority of lunch had been awkward, with tension looming over her the entire period she and Skeeter sat together. They had some casual conversation, but it wasn’t hard to tell that Skeeter wasn’t feeling like talking about her feelings.
This better be worth something, Emily pondered, nervously drumming her pen on the table. She caught Ricky’s eyes from across the room as he came bounding towards her, his shit-eating grin etched into his face per usual. She took her backpack, setting it down on the floor beside her chair. His keychains jingled as he placed his bag down, propping up his feet on the table after sliding into the seat next to her.
“So, what were you thinking?” Emily said, getting straight to the point.
Ricky put on a focused expression, like they were forming some kind of secret plan. “Basically, I know this is kinda cheesy, but that’s also the point. I noticed that one of your poems was on Mr. Wilkins' wall, and you’re a really good writer. I think that you could write her like… some kind of love letter,” he explained. Emily didn’t know why he out of all people would have taken note of her poems being hung up, but she didn’t comment on it.
“I honestly thought you’d suggest something more showy. That’s really simple,” she stated.
“I just had the idea because earlier I wro—“ Ricky started, but then faltered as Emily peered her eyes towards him.
“You’ve been writing love letters to someone?” She cocked one of her eyebrows upwards.
Ricky’s pale face flushed red. “I didn’t say that. But—“
He didn’t have to. Anyone with a brain could tell how infatuated he was with a certain brunette who he talked about ninety-percent of the time. “Is it Ben?” Emily asked, a small giggle in the back of her throat. A face of nervousness flickered across Ricky’s face before he furrowed his brow. “This is about your love life. Anyways, you could just write something lengthy and sweet to ask her out, or apologize, or both.”
I’ll ask him about Ben some other time, she thought.
“It probably won’t be that long, since I don’t have a lot of time…” She muttered, tapping her pencil against the table. “I’m sure I can come up with something, though.”
“Have you tried anything like this with her before?”
Emily thought for a moment. “I’ve written a few love poems dedicated to her, but not really any letters…”
“Well, here’s your chance,” he said, with a cheeky smile. “I’ve got something to work on for Wilkins, so I’ll leave you to that. Let me know if you need my expertise.”
Emily nodded back at him. As soon as Ricky’s attention was redirected, she pulled out her notebook, carefully tearing one of the papers out. She tapped her pencil against the desk, ideas flowing through her head in an instant.
In the span of the fifty-minute period, she had come up with enough lines for possibly three other poems, and one piece that she was intently satisfied with.
Her mind just seemed to race when it came to thinking things about Skeeter. The compliments just simply flowed as she thought about her love, and she couldn’t be bothered to think about the fact she felt like her face was burning red and that she was uncontrollably smiling the entire time. Emily figured that if she enjoyed this one, maybe she could turn it into a regular thing.
She turned in her seat, tapping Ricky on the shoulder. His bright-blue eyes flickered towards her without her even having to say anything, setting his pencil down.
“Can you read this over for me?” She asked.
Emily’s heart beat a few seconds faster than usual as Ricky’s eyes scanned the paper—others reading over her work always made her the slightest bit nervous.
Ricky looked back up at her with a grin, suggesting he was done reading it. “Awwww, she’s gonna love it!” He said, passing it back to her.
She giggled back to him, “thanks for the advice, Ricky.” He looked at her with a smile lined with pride. She folded it in half, doodling a small heart on the front side of it with a warm smile. Now, all that was left was to put it in her locker before the end of the school day.
Skeeter knew perfectly why Emily couldn’t go out often. She was aware of the risks—it took her ages to come out to her own parents, and she knew her mother was going to react poorly anyhow.
She was just sick of how often Emily lied about it. How often she said I’ll call you back or I’ll see if I can find a free day always led to Skeeter lying back in bed, disappointed once again. She loved Emily, almost more than anything, but the constant questioning of how much toll a break-up would take on her always weighed in her mind.
It was nearing the end of the school day, and Skeeter was plainly exhausted. Every second was spent thinking about what she could do at home to help her get her mind off of the troubles that plagued her life.
She headed to her locker to gather a few notes that she would need for photography club that afternoon, her backpack heavier on her shoulders than usual. The buzzing of chatter in the halls bothered her, filling her already busy brain as they walked past her. Skeeter opened her locker with a grumble, glancing over the several printed photos of Ricky or Emily decorating it.
A folded slip of paper at the bottom of her locker caught her eye before she could grab her supplies.
This looks like Emily’s notebook paper… she noticed, leaning down to pick it up. She unfolded it, seeing a short sum of words in familiar cursive.
“To my darling,” it started.
Skeeter could feel her face heating up and eyes widening as she read over the poem. Her mouth hung open slightly from the near shock it felt like it gave her.
It was signed at the end, simply “I’m sorry for how complicated things have been recently. I love you more than anything, but my brain always gets ahead of me.
If you’d do me the honor, would you like to go out with me tomorrow? ♡
-Your Emi”
She hardly had a second to think any longer when she heard a voice from behind her.
“What do you think?”
Skeeter whipped her head around to see Emily standing not far from her, fiddling with her nails, uneasiness coating her expression.
“I thought I’d catch up with you so we could walk to photography together, but also…” Her sentence trailed off, gaze traveling down to the note held carefully in Skeeter hands.
Skeeter blinked a few times, still trying to process how fast her heart was hammering, the rest of the people’s presence in the hallway falling away from her.
“I love it— so much,” she said, finally, feeling the persistent frown that had been on her face that day turn to a smile. Excitement flickered on Emily’s face, combatting the nervousness in her smile.
Skeeter speed-walked the few feet over to her, unable to think of any more words that could encapsulate how she felt. She leaned upwards and kissed Emily’s cheek as she put her arms around her, letting her lips linger before pulling away with a light mwah.
“Where were you thinking we could go?” She asked excitedly when she pulled back, grinning wider than she had all day.
“You can pick. Wherever you want,” Emily replied as Skeeter neatly put the note into her pocket, already planning on where to pin it up when she got home. “And I’ll pay for everything,” she said. Skeeter laughed slightly under her breath at her sheer generosity. “You don’t have to do that—“
Emily cut her off with a short kiss to the lips. Skeeter noticed that she hadn’t bothered to check if anyone around had been staring at them or not, like she usually did.
“I want to. You deserve it,” Emily insisted, taking hold of both of her hands. Skeeter was about to protest, but she hesitated. Maybe, she did deserve to feel truly loved, and maybe Emily deserved to have that closure.
“Okay, I’ll think about it after school.” Skeeter said, giving her another kiss on the cheek, feeling like her heart was about to burst. Something like this was finally fulfilling part of what was like the hollow area of her heart—a real day out for two of them, even if it were only for an afternoon.
“Let’s go, Stuart’s gonna kill us for being late,” Emily responded, taking a firm grasp of Skeeter’s free hand.