Chapter Text
1.
Her dad stinks. It was one year since...everything happened. Holly reminded him that morning of their plans. He promised they’d go see a movie together, bring home pizza, and watch reruns of her mom’s favorite British soap until they both fell asleep on the couch. It was going to be weird no matter what, doing all of that. She would never again doze off with her cheek pressed on her mom’s warm thigh. Mom sitting cross-legged between Holly and her father, running her fingers through Holly’s hair and scratching her dad’s scruffy chin. But Dad promised that they’d give it a try. Some kind of acknowledgement that Mom was gone, but not forgotten. A step towards moving on.
But no. Instead she comes home from school and the rental absolutely reeks. It reminds her of shoe polish, but based on the limp arm dangling from the couch and the empty bottles scattered across the carpet, Holly could confidently say the smell wasn’t coming from her dad’s shiny loafers.
She made sure to loudly kick every can on her way to her father’s resting place.
He jostled awake, dressed in the same suit he had been wearing that morning only now half-soaked in sweat. He flinched and went white when his eyes focused on her dour expression, as if he'd seen a ghost. Great, the drunk doesn’t recognize his own daughter.
She crossed her arms, and arched one eyebrow, a child taking on the features of a disapproving parent. “Which movie are we seeing, Dad?”
His eyes are red, swollen. He blinked one, twice, three times.
Holly managed to keep her voice even. “Remember? You were supposed to pick for us tonight.”
He coughed, half hacking up a lung, and she grabbed the glass of water on the coffee table. She was about to hand it over when the sharp scent of it hit her, making her gag. She walked it over to the sink, half-full with unwashed plates, and poured out the cheap vodka to refill it with water.
“Y-you should go to th’ sleepover, sweetie. The one you mentioned, with Janice?”
Typical.
“I told Jessica I couldn’t make it like, weeks ago, Dad.”
“Get ‘yer stuff, I’ll drive you.”
Holly sighed. “They’re not expecting me.”
She heard a thump, then a groan, coming from the living room. She returned with the water to see her idiot father facedown on the floor.
Asleep.
Fighting back the thick burn in her throat, she dropped the glass back down on the table with a clatter. No response from the rumpled mess of hair, sweat and fabric at her feet. She snatched the wallet sticking out from his pants pocket and rips out all the bills inside, then dialed the all-too-familiar phone number.
“Hello, Mrs. Nelson. This is Holly March. Jessica invited me over a few weeks ago, but I told her I couldn’t come...would it be—”
Rustling at the other end of the line, and a youthful giggle replaced the steady maturity from before it.
“—Oh my god, Holly!” the girl’s smile widened at the sound of her friend’s voice. “Your dad said you can come now?”
She glanced to her unconscious legal guardian. “Yup! I hope that’s okay? I mean, I totally understand if you don’t have room. It starts at 6, right?”
“We so have room for you! Hey, DAD—” Holly pulled the phone away to save her eardrums from Jessica’s earth-shattering shriek. “Can we pick up Holly in an hour?...Yes! Thank you!”
Warmth bloomed in Holly’s cheeks. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that, my Dad gave me the money for a taxi.”
“No sweat, Holl! I’m so excited you can come, and we have so much time before anyone else gets here. Get your stuff together and I’ll see you in a bit, ‘kay?”
Electricity buzzed in Holly’s chest, making her all tingly. Jessica was a good friend, maybe her best friend. “I’m excited to see you too. Thanks again.” She pockets the money from her dad's wallet. He wouldn't notice it missing, and she'd consider it a small repayment for the disappointment he'd caused her that evening.
Holly was packed and ready, waiting on the stoop, when the Nelson’s car rolled down the street, Jessica eagerly waving an arm out the window. They were 10 minutes early, even, to pick her up.
“Good to see you, Holly.” Jessica’s dad gruffed, from the front seat. He has the kind of beard that twitches when he talks, Holly has never seen his lips in all the years she’d known the man. “Is your father home?”
Her dad’s car was parked on the street, laughably crooked. “Yes, but he’s...still on the phone. A client called him with an emergency, you know?” A lie, one of many she had come up with over the last year to explain away her father’s behaviors, she couldn’t remember if she’d used it on the Nelsons yet. Not waiting to judge whether belief or pity formed in his eyes, she opens the car door to see Jessica basically vibrating in her seat. At least someone was still happy to hang out with Holly.
Holly and Jessica leaned over her duffel bag in the backseat, Jessica showing off her freshly made friendship bracelet. Holly ran fingers over the soft, colorful, strands, and faintly wondered if Jessica’s long brown hair would be just as silky.
When they get back to the house, Holly got a sneak peak at the activities Jessica had planned for the evening. A few party games, like Twister, personality quizzes from new magazines, and a whole set of colorful floss for everyone make their own bracelets with! Her friend leaned over the instructions, Holly studying the motion of her deft fingers starting another chain. In their concentration, the girls’ heads tilted together, the curtain of Jessica’s brown locks and Holly’s blonde dangling down, blocking out everything from the room except for their new craft. Jessica had a habit of talking to herself while she worked.
“So you pull it over...yes, you got it!”
“Oh, those are really nice colors. It totally matches your shirt.”
“Ugh.” Jessica accidentally knotted her thread, tugged it apart, tongue caught between her teeth while she focused. “This happens all the time, so annoying.”
Holly was halfway through weaving her own bracelet in Jessica’s bedroom when she heard the doorbell—the first of the other guests had arrived! Jessica hops off her bed and down the stairs, and Holly noticed how empty the room is without the sound of Jessica’s shallow breaths and hushed comments. Her hands itch, where they rest on her friend’s comforter, so she tiptoes out of the room and down the stairs in time to see another friend from school walking through the door. Jessica hugged and greeted her, but her chest buzzed when she realized it’s not with nearly as much enthusiasm as Jessica had when picking her up an hour ago.
Another handful of girls roll through for the party carrying snacks, sleeping bags, and their own offerings for things to do that night. Holly knew almost all of them, but there was a couple of girls from Jessica’s dance class she hadn’t met yet, and they’re all so sweet and welcoming in a way that is just because they’re nice people and not because they know that Holly is a broken and damaged girl. In fact, the whole party is nice and normal in a way that Holly didn’t realize she could still experience after...everything.
Then, Janet strut in. She could tell because the clip-clop of her Mary-Janes always echo in the school hallways, and they sounded the same on the linoleum tile of Jessica’s foyer. Holly didn’t bother looking up to greet her like the other girls.
Fucking Janet.
The other girl scoffed when her eyes fall on Holly’s back. Janet was mid-sentence, telling Jessica about the jello she had brought to share, but the choking sound is unmistakably a result of Holly’s presence because the next thing out of her mouth is--“She ended up coming after all?”
Holly ignored her. Janet went to the kitchen with Jessica to probably hand off the disgusting jello salad her stupid mom thought would be a good contribution to a teenager’s sleepover, for some dumb reason. She barely heard Jessica’s response.
“Yeah? I’m really glad, this wouldn’t have been the same without her.”
The electric tingle from earlier in the evening returned to Holly, sending static down her arms and to her toes. Jessica was her absolute best friend. Soon enough, Holly found herself flipping through a magazine with the dance girls, the three of them picking which of the latest teen heartthrobs would be the best boyfriend based purely on their haircuts.
“Oh, he's so blonde, he’d take me to the beach with him I think.”
“He looks like he would take you line dancing on the first date!"
“You couldn’t even kiss him, there’s too much hair in the way.”
“Ewww, he's just like my dad here, there's just so much gel.”
None of the boys really caught Holly’s eye yet, but she was entertained by the other girls comments all the same. A couple other people approached them, but Holly didn’t look to see who it is.
They thumb over to the next page. Holly’s breath catches. It’s two page spread, a photo and interview with Lief Garrett, promoting an upcoming album. The angle is up-close, the photo cropping out his chest and wide shoulders and instead framing his round, delicate face. Long eyelashes dust his cheeks, and he has full pink lips and shiny, healthy hair that twirls past his shoulders, almost disappearing off-camera. He doesn’t look quite so manly, or even very boyish in this picture. It tugs at a wet, slippery thing in Holly’s gut, the...ambiguity, of his appearance. She licked her chapped lips, and thinks that if she were to date any of the guys, it’s this one.
Maybe it was the hitch in her breath that gave her away, or how her fingertips held onto the edge of the magazine, but one of the girls standing behind her piped up. “Ooh, Holly, is that the guy for you?” She whips around to see Jessica smirking, the one who had spoken. And Janet beside her, arms crossed.
Everyone’s eyes were on her now. She was very aware of the stale taste of her tongue in her mouth, the sweat dripping at the nape of her neck. What could she say? Clearly everyone could see how she felt before she even really had words for it.
“I-I like his hair. So yeah, maybe he’d be a good boyfriend.”
“That’s not how the game works! You gotta get particular!” said the girl with short curly hair next to Holly.
Holly was stuck in the spiderweb of Lief’s eyelashes. Her mind, blank.
“Well, I think he looks like a woman.” Janet sniped.
The chittering laughs of her friends fell silent.
“He’s truly ugly. Presenting himself to the world like that." Janet’s comment was a damnation. "I have no idea what you see in him, Holly.” Hot flames lapped at the edges of her name and burnt up Holly's face, her ears, turning her skin red.
The silence dragged on for an eternity. Until the magazine slipped from her fingers, the rustling prompting Holly to open eyes she didn’t realize she shut. Jessica was standing above her, appraising the photo for a moment.
“I dunno, he seems really sweet.” She looked between Holly’s blush and back to the photo. “I don’t think he looks too girly. You have nicer hair than him anyway, Holls.” She took in Jessica’s soft smile, and the fire in her face subsided.
And with that, the dance girls started giggling again. Janet huffed, and stomped off to watch TV with the other half of the party. The girl on Holly’s left reached over to twirl a finger around Holly’s blonde hair, and asked what kind of shampoo she used. The curly girl suggested they all braid each other’s hair, since she hadn’t done so since cutting her so short, and that’s how Holly found herself weaving together a braid for Jessica while her new friends worked on her own head.
But Holly had lost that nice, normal feeling from before. Janet walked in and ruined everything. Even if the other girls moved past it, Janet had clutched Holly tight and thrust her under a magnifying glass, examining a peculiarity that she had desperately hoped no one else would ever discover.
What was exactly that strange thing curled inside Holly’s soul? The grief for her dead mom, the fascination with crime, or maybe it was the unspeakable desire that only just reared it’s head. The wrongness, the thing that drew her to the length of a boy’s hair and the softness of their lips and scorned their muscles, deep voices, and rugged behavior.
The wrongness that clutched at her heart with each brush of Jessica's silky hair.