Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anne and Marcy had been sitting by each other at lunch for just five days. Odds were that as soon as their biology partnership wrapped up next week they would drift apart back to their respective lunch tables among the jocks and the geeks. But for now, Marcy insisted, they needed to take objective of every unrestricted second they could. So the two found themselves meeting up in the lunchroom or undertaking three-minute cram sessions in the hallway during passing periods in which Marcy would talk about all sorts of science balderdash and Anne would try to listen.

Anne found it endearing (If not slightly annoying,) how Marcy could rant about her nerdy stuff for an hour and a half at a time. Yesterday, Marcy spent the entirety of class prattling about her ongoing Dungeons and Dragons campaign while managing to keep her eyes glued to her laptop screen, typing away on her keyboard.

Still, Anne found good company in Marcy and if their school hadn't been so clique reliant, she imagined the two of them could spend time together regularly outside of forced partnerships in class. And sure, Anne had her friends from tennis and around her neighborhood, but horribly enough, she felt lonely even in their company. Marcy however was an expert communicator and an even better listener, something greatly appreciated. (If not envied.)

"Does that sound okay to you, Anne?"

"Wha-?" Anne's head jerked from her hand propped on the table beneath her chin. Anne blinked one, two, three times as she met Marcy’s inquisitive gaze. "Oh, sorry. I must've spaced out." She placed an affirming hand at the crook of her neck and averted her eyes from her science partner, taking notice of the many contesting glances around the cafeteria shot in their direction. It was as if seeing the varsity tennis team captain willingly associate with the dungeon master of the D&D club was the most bizarre thing to ever transpire at Saint James.

Marcy started to read aloud, slightly annoyed to have to repeat herself. "'To fully understand how and why genetic continuity occurs, one must discern what genetic continuity is: the result of post cellular division of two daughter cells which have the same number and type of genes as the primary cell…'" When she had finished reading from her screen she looked back up at Anne's deep brown eyes, head tilted slightly. "Do you think that's applicable to the introduction? I mean- I’ll obviously flesh it out and stuff, but it's solid, right?

"Yeah totally. Very… applicable. Uh… didn't we learn about daughter cells last year?"

"And freshman year, yeah." Marcy said blankly.

"Ew, freshman year. Remember my haircut? Ugh, and my braces?” Anne covered her face with one hand, leaning back in her seat. Marcy chuckles, making the corners of Anne's mouth quirk upwards into a proud grin. There was something very stimulating to her about making Marcy laugh. Her hands would become clammy and cold as all the heat in her body rushed to her cheeks, and a hot surge of crimson washed over her dark skin. Anne's thoughts tended to muddle in her brain to reimburse for her loss of discretion over her body as she would silently scramble for any ample or coherent thought. It was an unusual occurrence that Anne had grown very keen to throughout the week.

“Your mullet was actually kind of cool, nothing like the bowl cut my mom gave me,” The two girls laughed. “And you looked pretty good with braces if I recall correctly.” Anne was on cloud nine, she could laugh with Marcy like this all day. As the girls recollected themselves, the atmosphere became rather awkward. The athlete cleared her throat, breaking the silence. She didn't want the conversation to end as quickly as it started.

"Y’know, if it's taken us three days just to write an intro, I'm not sure we'll meet the deadline next Monday, you know?" Anne's mouth seemed to ramble on its own accord. She wasn't sure where she was going with this at all... "Maybe we should meet up this weekend er- something. Get it done, maybe catch a movie after...or go bowling?" 

"I would love to Anne, but I've kind of been preoccupied with other work recently," Marcy averted her gaze calculatedly zeroing in on Anne's water bottle on the table; as though if Marcy looked at her in the eye, Anne could peer right through her, intruding on the privacy of her mind as she reflected on a memory before letting it float back into her subconscious. "B-but it's okay, we still have a week to finish it. Besides, I completed our source document last night. All I have left to do is re-word and finalize the final draft. We’re way ahead of schedule.”

Anne felt defeated and embarrassed. She'd never asked someone out before and it seemed like Marcy didn't even realize Anne’s intentions were anything less than platonic.

Suddenly, a high-pitched beeping noise grasps the girls' focus, startling Anne. Marcy looked down at her watch. Quickly, her content expression receded into pure panic. She turned off the alarm and slammed her laptop shut, hastily shoving it into her book bag. "Sorry, Anne! I gotta go meet S- uh someone! My… Counselor! About changing electives." 

Anne watched as Marcy fumbled to shrug into her backpack straps. As she darted from her chair, its hind legs skid against the vinyl floor tiles before toppling backward, creating a large crash that reverberated off the walls of the cafeteria. Half of the room had silenced switching their interest to the scene Marcy had caused in a spur of urgency. She clung to her backpack straps tightly and winced as she became wary of all the eyes on her. 

 "...Okay bye!" 

Marcy scurried off, turning a corner out of sight, leaving Anne sitting alone mouth agape in confusion. 

Marcy must have forgotten to zip her bag shut as a few papers had flown out behind her. Once everyone had gone back to minding their businesses, Anne stood from her seat and slowly walked towards the stray papers splayed in a trail across the floor. She gathered the papers intending to return them to Marcy when she noticed something odd. The papers weren't Marcy's. It was the trig homework due today. That alone wasn't very strange without knowing that Marcy was in senior calculus, not trigonometry; Anne knew that because Marcy had told her her schedule during one of her rants. But what surprised Anne the most was that the papers weren't signed 'Marcy Wu' they were signed 'Sasha Waybright'.

———

Marcy rushed out of the back exit of the school by the locker rooms most commonly used by athletes as it was the closest door to the tennis courts and football field. It was safe to say no one would expect to see Marcy beneath the bleachers. Despite that, the petite girl still advanced with great caution. If she were to be caught, she could be suspended or worse. 

Marcy peeked underneath the stands to make sure nobody was lingering around. Immediately, she saw the silhouette of a tall student, their face illuminated by the soft glow of their phone. They scrolled carelessly through their social media feed, twisting a strand of their lustrous blonde hair around their index finger. Marcy squeezed her eyes shut, took an uneasy breath, and trudged forward. 

"Sasha! Hi. Sorry, I'm late." Sasha jerked at the sudden sound of Marcy's voice before regaining her stability, running a hand down the front of the orange and white uniform, smoothing out the creases over the 'SJHS' atop her chest. Marcy had noticed Sasha would wear her cheer uniform to school on game days; likely to establish preeminence and pride.

Sasha sighed. "About time you showed up, Mar mar," She tucked her phone in her skirt pocket and took a slow stride towards Marcy, arms folded. Marcy gulped down, taking her bottom lip between her teeth to conserve the little composure she had to begin with as the taller girl drew closer. "I was starting to get cold." She whispered, with a harrowing rasp in her voice. Only then Marcy felt the crisp early autumn breeze weave its way through the gaps of the bleachers, circulating the crunchy leaves and discarded trash around at the two girls' feet.

"Sorry about that." Marcy apologized, slipping her bag off her shoulders and placing it on the ground next to Sasha's. Sasha closed in on the shorter student, bracing a manicured thumb beneath Marcy's chin and tilting her head upward to meet her pointed gaze. Sasha's eyes were like a dewy field of cornflowers. Marcy thought about them all the time, imagining what it would be like to enthrall her flowery scent in perpetual solidarity. She knew being examined so meticulously under the cheerleader's raw watch would make most people's organs collapse in on one another in terror. But to Marcy, it didn't take much searching in those formidable eyes to find gentle intentions.

Everyone adored Sasha and it was clear why; cheer captain, the most popular kid in the junior class, exceedingly handsome. Yet, no one really knew Sasha Waybright. She was more so the dignified and closed-off type people were desperate to get to know rather than your stereotypical bleach-blonde cheerleading prude. That didn't stop girls from trying to befriend her, likely seeing her as a one-way ticket in with the popular crowd. Or did it stop guys from groping her or trying to woo her to get her to hook up with them at parties. So naturally, Marcy was confused why Sasha Waybright would ever give someone like her the time of day but was grateful for their interactions regardless, even if they were just to ultimately benefit Sasha.  

"It's fine. I know it won't happen again." The blonde’s hand slid from her quarry's chin, running torturously stagnant along the crease of Marcy's jawline, finally tucking a strand of shoulder-length raven hair behind the smaller girl's ear. 

Marcy's white-knuckled hands clenched around the fabric of her skirt. Her knees buckled as she struggled to keep herself upright. It took all her effort to look Sasha in her steely eyes, so much so that Marcy didn't even notice the deprived whine that sapped its way out her throat.

It was then Sasha started to lean in. Impulsively, Marcy's eyes fluttered shut, preparing herself for the blissful contact of Sasha's lips on hers. She'd been waiting all day for this; the taste of Sasha's strawberry lip gloss, that would sloppily veneer Marcy's lips as they pulled apart for air. The feeling of the tip of the blonde girl's tongue winding its way through Marcy's mouth, taking merit of her as Sasha's tongue meandered against her own. The sound of Sasha allowing hoarse 'hm' s' escape her throat at the sensation of Marcy squirming and rutting against her. The way Sasha's hand would saunter between Marcy's trembling thighs and wander underneath her skirt. Th-...

‘Why hasn't anything happened?’  

Sasha pulled away, chortling softly to herself, tracing a finger along the side of Marcy's neck where Marcy had turned up the collar of her shirt in an attempt to cover the bruises and abrasions Sasha had marked on her yesterday. ‘ What a wonderful day that was…’

"I would've come to find you myself, but if people saw me around you…" Sasha started, back turned to Marcy as she dug her heel into the dry dirt ground. She glanced over her shoulder at Marcy. 

"T-they'd think it's o-okay to talk to you..." Marcy stammered, deterred by Sasha's ordaining gaze. However, she knew that the real reason why Sasha didn't want to be seen with her wasn't because everyone would use Marcy's communion with Sasha as a justification to talk to the popular girl. Maybe that was a small part of it– but it was very clear to Marcy that Sasha was embarrassed by her. Not by anything, in particular, Marcy had done, it just wasn't normal for two kids like them to associate with one another, especially organically. Not at Saint James. Nevertheless, Marcy didn't mind their arrangement. She was fine believing Sasha simply as long as she got to spend time with her.

Sasha pivoted on the ball of her foot, facing back toward Marcy. "Smart girl," She praised, her voice low with intent that sent shockwaves up the smaller girl's backbone. Marcy squeaked, biting her lip so hard she was sure she broke the skin. If she didn't have the least bit of restraint, she would have dropped to her knees and submitted to Sasha right then and there. Sasha smiled, amused at the flushed mess in front of her. "You have what I want right?"

"Um…huh?" Marcy queried, still captivated by the siren-like allure of Sasha's voice.

Sasha rolled her eyes and kneeled to unzip her teal bookbag, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a book. She stood upright, waving the book in front of Marcy. "Trade ya?"

"Oh, you’re reading Antigone? I love that play! My favorite character is probably Haemon-"

"Mars, focus."

"Right. Let's see here…" Marcy bent down and sifted through her open bag, searching for Sasha's trigonometry homework she had finished during her free period that day. As Marcy scoured her backpack, all she accounted for was her trapper-keeper, laptop, and loose gum wrappers compiling at the bottom of her bag. "Hm, that's weird."

"What is it?"

"It's not here." Sasha blinked in disbelief, mouth falling open just as hastily as it snapped closed.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sasha asked, a fake grin plastered on her disgruntled expression, stretching out her neck.

"I guess it fell out of my bag in the hurry to get over here. I didn't mean-”

"Stand up." Marcy complied with the command without a second thought. She arose from the ground so fast, that stars started to form from the backs of her eyes at the whiplash of motion. Marcy winced, blinded for a moment before she felt Sasha lunge at her, gripping her by the collar with one hand, and pressing her against a support pillar holding up the bleachers. The corroded stands heaved above them as Marcy slammed against the metal post.

"How could you be so careless?!" Sasha snapped. 

"I- Uh…" Marcy hesitated, unsure if Sasha's question was rhetorical or not. It must not have been as Sasha cut Marcy off again.

"Where'd you have it last?" Sasha pushed, a small hint of desperation lacing her otherwise forceful tone.

"Well, in my bag, obviously," Marcy began, not intending to sound as pungent as she did. Sasha's half-lidded stare seared through her, making the thought of looking away seem strangely perilous. "Um… I put it in my bookbag after I finished it during my free period. Then, I went to meet Anne Boonchuy in the lunchroom to work on our bio paper. I- I must've forgotten to zip my bag when I got my laptop out. If they had fallen out I'm sure Anne has them."

"Where's Anne now?" Sasha's voice was adamant as her eyes continued to pierce right through the smaller student pinned in front of her. Marcy could feel her heartbeat rapidly pounding in their ears, whether it be from fear or arousal, she wasn't sure.

Marcy recalled the conversation she had with Anne regarding her schedule yesterday. "After passing period she has a band from twelve to one."

Sasha let loose of Marcy's collar and shoved the Antigone book against Marcy's chest with enough force to knock the wind out of the puny girl. "Book report's due next Wednesday. It's a character analysis so you can do whoever. That ‘Heyman’ guy or whatever, I really don't care," She said, picking up her  Jansport from the ground and tossing it over her shoulder. "Just remember to-"

"Write it in your handwriting. Got it." Marcy had heard the lecture plenty of times before. Sasha clicked her tongue and breathed in sharply. As she began to walk away from beneath the bleachers Marcy couldn't help but feel somewhat desolate. Maybe that wasn't the right word for it. Dissatisfied; mostly in herself, because since she let down Sasha it could take days of trying to make up for it to get things back to the way they were. Marcy looked at her old loafers, kicking up tiny dirt clouds the wind then carried away.

"Oh, and Marcy?" Marcy looked up at Sasha standing at the borderline of the daylight and shade cast by the stands. Her wavy blond hair blew behind her in a pristine high ponytail, the sun hitting it just right so that it resembled what Marcy imagined to be a golden beacon. All the cheerleaders wore their hair that way, but only Sasha could pull it off; Just one thing about Sasha's natural beauty that drew people to her like a moth to a flame. That drew Marcy to her.

"Yes?" Marcy asked, breathlessly.

"Can you keep your collar down? I want people to look at you and know that you're off limits, 'kay?" Without an answer from Marcy, Sasha walked back to the school building, clearly not up for any contest from her. Marcy was intelligent enough to know any question from Sasha Waybright was more so a demand.

Marcy reached up and folded her popped collar down to expose the purpling marks Sasha left the day prior. She traced a delicate finger along her neck as she sunk down the pillar to the dirt ground.

———

Sasha walked to the band hall just fast enough to make it before passing period began, doing her best to avoid anybody who happened to be about. The corridor was empty except for a kid, Vince from her speech class lingering in the stairwell at the secluded end of the hall. Vince was a cool guy in Sasha's eyes. He wasn't like the rest of the boys in school that would constantly make advances on her. They weren't friends necessarily, but they had gone to middle school together and exchanged a few drunken interactions at parties. 

Being that Sasha had a few minutes before Anne Boonchuy would show up for band, she figured she could spare some time to talk to someone outside her clique for the second time that day. ‘What a social butterfly I’ve become.’

She sauntered to the stairwell, the clicking of her heels nabbing Vince's attention as he quickly shoves something in his bag. "Whatcha got there?" Sasha pried, smirking deviously.

The purple-haired student coughed clouds of smoke into the crook of his elbow. The pungent smell of cannabis dispersed in the air around them. It was a familiar smell Sasha was quite used to from the social gatherings her status employed her to attend.

"Uh, S-Sasha! Hi," Vince croaked, waving the odorous fog away. Sasha snickered at the boy, peering at him through the haze. He frantically tried wafting away the lingering smoke as Sasha took a seat on the step below him next to his sticker-clad guitar case. "You're not going to tell anyone I was smoking, right?" He asked anxiously, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with his ring finger. 

"Ohhh, is that what you were doing?" She teased earning a shaky laugh from the delinquent. He reaches back into his book bag and pulls out the dab pen he was inhaling from a minute ago. Vince takes a long drag, breathing out a cloud of smoke. 

"Wanna try?" He offers, holding out the pen for the blonde. She cringes, however, the offer was tempting; getting high would definitely take a load off her shoulders, but she declined. Sasha never really smokes or drinks outside of parties, not after she got a totally shitfaced sophomore year with a couple of cheer squad friends after homecoming.

She looked back at the guitar case resting on the iron railing. "You still play." The tall girl stated, though, by the manner of her statement, it sounded more like a question.

"Yeah. My dad and I have a band. It's like an Iron Maiden tribute band sorta thing. We play gigs at the Twisted Skull every Saturday." Vince explains, breathing in more fumes from his pen.

"Twisted Skull? That club's pretty intense. I heard the pyrotechnics caught fire last year during a show."

"Yeah, that was us. But a guy put the fire out with his beer," Vince snorts, his voice slurring up and down in pitch. "Do you still play? I remember how great you were at talent shows. You fuckin' shredded, girl." 

Sasha's face heated up at the compliment. It's been a long time since she received sincere praise granted without any ulterior motive, especially from a guy. "Nah. Not anymore. My uh… Old man pawned my guitar a few years ago to buy a new stereo." 

"Man, that's too bad. What an asshole,” Vince paused, a gauche silence hung between them, “Sorry… didn't mean to bash your dad like that.”

“No you're right. He is kind of an asshole.” Sasha remarks dismissively.

Sasha examines Vince's guitar case again, a bit closer this time. There are various band logos scattered across it: Ghost, Slipknot, Korn, Metallica, just those kinds of distinguished bands that would get stickers. Then there was the occasional edgy skeleton or Twisted Skull tags. But there was one that caught Sasha's eye that stood out from the others being that it was so colorful. It felt out of place.

"What's that one?" She asks, pointing at the emblem as she looks up at the zooted boy. Vince gawks at her a little confused before narrowing his eyes on the referenced heart-shaped sticker.

"Ah, that? That’s the genderfluid flag. It's like when your gender isn't fixed on one identity or whatever. You can be a boy, a girl, both, neither, whatever, whenever.” He clarifies as he leans back on the stairs. The blonde thought about that for a moment. She'd always felt conventionally masculine, making up for it with cheerleading which she found she enjoyed the feminine aspect of on some days. On other days though, all she wanted to do was ditch the short skirt and cut that stupid ponytail off, but she just thought that's the way every girl felt.

"I… Didn't know there was a label for that,"

“Yuuuup,”

“So what're your pronouns?" Sasha asked, interested. She wasn't used to asking people that but it wasn't like there was any harm in asking. Honestly, she felt bad she didn't ask people for their pronouns more often.

"He/They. What about yours?"

She had never thought about her pronouns beyond what was assigned to her at birth, but suddenly, it feels like a difficult question to answer given this new insight. ‘Stop thinking so hard, you're making it weird.’ 

"Um. She/Her.” Sasha responded defensively, straightening her posture to project the confidence she lacked in her tone. She clenched her jaw, turning away. If it was so obvious how cis-gendered Sasha was, then why did she feel so unsure all of a sudden? For a brief moment, her brain was filled to the max by thoughts about herself that danced on the scale between disturbed and euphoric.

Whatever. This would just have to be something for future Sasha to think about.

"Cool, cool. Well, I gotta clear outta here before the band kids show up," Vince says, as they stand up and collect his bag and guitar, slipping their dab pen in their pocket. "You going to Brady's party after the game tonight? Rumour has it he got a keg." Vince grunts as they hoist his bag over his shoulder and grab their case.

Sasha couldn't stand Brady. She couldn't stand most boys. They're assholes. But the thought of seeing Vince there, made the whole experience seem more tolerable.

"Yeah. I'll see you there." Vince smiled, wishing a farewell to Sasha via a two-fingered salute before stumbling up the stairs. By now the band kids were pouring down the hall. The tall girl kept her eyes peeled for Anne Boonchuy's yellow Converse among the group. It wasn't like Sasha was attentive toward what Anne wore. (or Anne in general.). The only classes they had together were personal fitness and trig. It's just kind of hard to miss the yellow shoes she wears every day.

As Sasha stood from the stairs to get a better view, she spotted Anne talking with a red-haired student. She strode over, feeling eyes drawing to her as she tapped the tan girl on the shoulder. Anne was only an inch or two shorter than Sasha, but the blonde’s heels added an inch that forced Anne to have to look up at her, perplexed.

"Hey, girlfriend. Glad I caught you. Listen, I'm feeling really faint. I'd go to the nurse but I don't think I'll make it on my own. You don't mind taking me, do you?" Anne squinted at the taller girl in confusion and a tad bit of disgruntlement flickering in her coffee-brown eyes. The duo hadn't had a formal interaction since… when? Play rehearsal in middle school?

"Um… What-" Anne began, rather unsettled before being cut off by the slender girl. 

"Thanks, appreciate it," Sasha shot a phony grin toward the Thai girl as she flung an arm over Anne's shoulder. Anne wobbled on her feet as she adjusted to the cheer captain quite literally throwing herself at her, dispatching a short-fused huff from her lips. The blonde veered her attention to the red-haired student Anne had been talking to, smiling weakly. "You don't mind telling Mr. Hart Anne's taking me to the Nurse's do you? It'll only take a few minutes."

The ginger student blinked a few times, mouth ajar as he drew up a response. "Not at all, Sasha! I'll let him know." With that, Sasha nodded and began to drag Anne back to the barren stairwell, keeping a firm arm wrapped around the shoulder of the shorter girl.

The two turned a corner into the stairwell away from public sight. "Will you quit that!?" Anne squirmed out of Sasha's restraint, shoving the blonde away. The tan girl took a few steps back for good measure, breathing in a waft of residing fog that ceased to be fanned away. "Do… Do you smell that?"

"You have my homework don't you?" Sasha probed, Disregarding all else.

Anne squinted at Sasha, “Do I look like Marcy to you? I know she does your assignments for you.” The brunette spat.

“That isn't any of your business, Boonchuy.”

“Well, it's become my business. Marcy is my friend. What do you think gives you the right to take advantage of her like this?”

“I am not taking advantage of Marcy. She does me favors, I do her favors. Not that I owe you an explanation,” Sasha's fuse was getting shorter by the second.

“Favors? What kind of favors?” Anne’s eyes widened.

“As I said, it’s none of your concern. Now give me what’s mine and I'll let you go back to playing your little trumpet or whatever you do.” Sasha swiped at Anne’s backpack. Anne pulled away, bitterly glaring at the taller girl. “Come on, Anne seriously. Give it here.”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ, Boonchuy. I am not going to mess up my perfect GPA now all because you want to play hero. Give it to me. Now,” The shorter girl sighed looking around before reaching into her bag for Sasha’s homework and handing it over to the frustrated girl. “If you tell anyone about this…” Sasha began.

“I'm not doing this for you. I just don't want Marcy getting in trouble.” Anne mumbled, hoisting her bag over her shoulder, and sulked off down the hall without looking back. Sasha watched Anne, wondering what the hell was up with her weird adherence to Marcy. Ultimately, she shrugged it off and examined Marcy’s penmanship. ‘Sometimes I feel like she's better at my handwriting than I am.’ Sasha thought as she hurriedly ran up the stairs to the next class she was surely late for.

Chapter Text

"Obviously, that didn't make sense because Maddie's a defensive mage, and walling in an enemy to death is just stupid! Then, Molly Jo– that freshie, you know her? She cast a druid spell and turned herself into a tree for protection. And the ' big bad boss' we were fighting? A slaad. A slaad, Anne!" The frustrated raven-haired girl looked at her feet as she walked beside her science partner, trying not to step on any cracks in the pavement. 

For the past couple of days, Anne and Marcy would walk to the student parking lot together after school. It was one of the highlights of Anne’s day even if Marcy would only talk about dungeons and dragons. (For the five hundredth time that day.)

"Slaad… Are those the frog-lookin' ones with the control gem thingys?"

"Y-yeah. Yeah! Ha! I knew you were paying attention!” Marcy beamed, rosiness peppering her cheeks. Even Anne was surprised she remembered that tidbit of knowledge, she's not exactly known to retain information on what isn't regarding tennis or school. Plus she's had a lot on her mind after her confrontation with Sasha just a few hours ago…

‘“She does me favors, I do her favors.” What does that even mean?’ What would Sasha have that Marcy would want besides what everyone else wants from her? Marcy couldn't be fooling around with Sasha… could she?

 “Anyways, I thought our guild could breeze past the red slaad since its CR is six– which is like, only moderately deadly– but I may have overestimated them." Marcy chuckled to herself, glancing at Anne who was uncharacteristically silent. Anne must have noticed Marcy had stopped talking, quickly re-engaging in conversation.

"Sounds like fun. I'd like to come by sometime." The smaller girl’s umber eyes lit up.

"Yes! That'd be so cool! You could be our healer! Y’know, before dungeon master I was actually a level twenty cleric from the Life Domain, but since Percy graduated I-"

"Marcy, do you have a… a thing with Sasha Waybright?" The Thai girl interrupted. She couldn't help herself from asking, this had been eating away at her. She had too much respect for Marcy to watch her risk her high school admission for someone who clearly wasn't worth it. Marcy deserves better than that.

Marcy raised an eyebrow, a glint of surprise sparkling in her ebony sights but not altering her otherwise calm and collected demeanor. “Like a class with her? She's in my speech class if that's what you mean,”  A twinge of guilt in her voice. Anne stopped walking, compelling Marcy to stop in her tracks to face her friend. “Anne? What’s up? C’mon.” Marcy motioned for them to keep walking, they were nearly at the parking lot by now, but Anne refused to budge without answers.

“You left her homework behind when you left the cafeteria. I was going to return it to you when I saw you again but… I guess I just don't understand why you'd have it in the first place. And when Sasha came up to me to get it back with her freaking panties in a twist, she told me not to tell anybody.”

Marcy laughed. “Anne, I'm her tutor. She's just embarrassed she needs a little extra help, that's all. Not that there's anything wrong with that.” Anne noticed Marcy's collar was down instead of upturned like it usually was. She was aware that was an odd detail to notice, but as Marcy stood still Anne couldn't help but notice elements about her she normally wouldn't pay any mind to. Upon closer examination, she noticed an odd reddish abrasion on Marcy‘s neck. In this situation, it would be easy to jump to conclusions about the mark and how it got there but given Marcy’s klutzy track record, she probably just fell or something.

“So there's no, like, weird arrangement going on between you two?”

“Not at all,” Marcy reassured. She seemed to be telling the truth, yet her answer seemed quick, almost like it was rehearsed. If Sasha was so ashamed of having a tutor then why was Marcy so quick to sell her out? But Anne ultimately gave her the benefit of the doubt, pushing her skepticism aside. 

The two continued talking as normal, waving goodbye as they both got to their designated parking spaces. Marcy drove off first in the Buick her mom got her for maintaining a 4.0 GPA last year, while Anne sat in the old Chevy she and her dad shared. It was either that or she'd have to drive her family’s restaurant delivery truck to school and she knew no one would live that down until the day she died. She placed her school bag and French horn case in the passenger seat. There was a football game that night and every marching band member was to be accounted for. 

Anne hated how everyone else got to enjoy the game in the student section and get to have fun with their friends while she had to wear that damn plume and sit with the only people in the world who think ‘Ohio’ jokes are still funny. The tan girl sighed, exhausted just thinking about the night ahead of her as she turned her key in the ignition and began to drive off.

An early supper was waiting for her when she got home. Sticky rice and a shrimp lettuce wrap and a note at the table in her Dad’s chicken scratch.

‘@ Thai Go. Good luck at the game! *Don't forget to take your pill!!* ผมรักคุณ”

Anne smiled, digging into the meal and scarfing it down, unable to enjoy it as much as she would have liked to but she was in a hurry. She put her dishes in the sink, promising herself she’d remember to wash them when she gets back (She won't.) before running upstairs to take her midday estrogen pill and change into her marching band uniform clad in Saint James’ school colors: orange and white. 

———

Sasha hoisted her duffle bag over her shoulder. She sauntered from her bedroom down the staircase, her gold hair tied back in a refined high ponytail, swaying behind her with each step. She entered the foyer, walking down the hall to her father’s study where she could hear the faint theme of a classical suite playing from his phonograph. Her father’s estate was a mid-century modern Hollywood regency that was nothing short of glamorous, a far cry from her mother’s preferred monochrome and minimalist style. Either way, Sasha was grateful to be born into such lavish lifestyles on both sides of the family, even if it was lonely at times. Due to her parents’ work commitments, they weren't very present throughout her upbringing, always on business trips or attending board meetings for their respective careers. Even when they were around they were never really there, not for Sasha.

The blonde entered the dimly lit study. The silk drapes were drawn so the only light illuminating the room was from the crackling fire in the fireplace. She saw her dad lounging in his recliner, his nose buried in a book she’d seen him reading a handful of times before ‘The Alchemist’ . Sasha was never a huge reader herself, she was more partial to reality television. Her footsteps were deliberately heavy to make her presence known without startling her father like she’d done many times before.

“Daddy, I'm heading out now.”

“Where?” He raised his chin slightly, wetting his thumb with his tongue and turning a page. She could hear the music clearer now, and the frizzy ambiance the needle produced as it collected gunk from the grooves of the vinyl while it spun.

“To the football game.” The cheer captain replied, tightening her ponytail. Mr. Waybright sat up from his lazy boy looking his daughter up and down critically.

“In that?” He said, distaste apparent in his voice.

“…Yeah. It's my uniform.”

“It must have shrunk then. The skirt is far too short.” Sasha knew her father had an eye for detail, anyone could tell that much was true just by looking around his study. His modular mahogany bookcase stretched from the floor to the ceiling along one of the walls, and leather-bound books, as well as expensive vases, framed baseball cards, and other sports memorabilia lined the shelves. The fireplace had an ornate custom-molded marble mantle and a TV with a giant sixty-inch screen mounted perfectly centered on the wall. Because of his attention to detail, Mr. Waybright frequently critiqued Sasha’s appearance, speech, and perspective. 

“It's the same one I've been wearing since freshman year,” Mr. Waybright stared at her with a muddled expression. “I’m a junior.” Sasha clarified, negligibly irked. Her father raised his brows and nodded, humming softly before returning to his spot on the page.

“I'll call your nutritionist in the morning. A new diet would do you good anyways, your butt has gotten big recently.” Sasha bit the inside of her cheek.

“I'm leaving now. I don't need you deprecating me.” She huffed under her breath, taking her leave.

“Be back by ten, Sasha Elizabeth. I mean it.” She whirled around, prepared to plead for a settlement.

“But Dad, there's a party after! I already promised a friend I'd go! Can’t I just-”

“Ten. End. Of. Discussion.” His voice was firm. He combed his fingers through his thick brown hair. Sasha sighed and clasped her bag with a white-knuckled grasp, reluctantly resigning from the argument and leaving for school.

———

Fifteen seconds left on the clock; it was the end of the final quarter and the score was 28 to 28. Marcy sat alone near the top of the bleachers away from the student section, reading the play Sasha assigned her. occasionally, she looked up from the book, hoping to catch Sasha’s eyes as she and the other cheerleaders stood idly waiting for something to happen on the field. 

Marcy’s eyes swept over the crowd of students and the band members mingling in their separate sections on the stands. The raven-haired girl then took notice of Anne looking over in her direction. Marcy beamed at her and waved. Anne smiled back at her, exasperated by her fellow brass members.

Anne was good to Marcy. She listened to her, never mocked her, would say ‘Hi,’   to her in the halls, and would make her laugh like no one else could. It was nice to be associated with a popular person who wasn't embarrassed to be seen with her.

Marcy looked over at Sasha again, she was laughing at something her co-captain Maggie had said and though Marcy couldn't hear what she was laughing about, she could hear how luminous Sasha’s laugh was over the throng of people. Marcy touched the love bite on her neck tracing her finger around it and grabbed her shirt collar, turning it upwards. She thought about how foolish it made her look and how inconvenient it was that she would have to wear and re-wear the same collared button-downs and polos from her dad’s closet until the mark faded. It made her feel gross… but she loved it. 

Sasha clutched her sides, trying to control her uneven breathing until her coach told her to knock it off which then she quickly straightened up and averted her eyes. That's when her gaze locked onto Marcy’s. A pit started to grow in her stomach as the cheerleader kept staring at her, not in the usual half-closed, flirty, commanding way Sasha would stare at Marcy. This time her eyes were wide and they glistened like azure pools kissed by the setting sun. Marcy looked away before she became too captivated.

The players on the field were lined up at the 40-yard line. The quarterback, Daniel, hiked the ball to Brady, a running back. Brady ran with the ball, going the full 40 yards to the goal line and well into the end zone. The 15 seconds had elapsed precisely when the boy scored the touchdown and a buzzer sounded across the field. The crowd hollered and jumped up and down with exhilaration, grabbing onto one another and shaking the stands as the cheerleaders cheered in unison. Brady yelled triumphantly, flexing his biceps as his team came rushing over to pile on him. 

He pointed at Sasha who rolled her eyes. From an onlooker's perspective, they seemed destined for one another. They were both the most popular kids in school and would surely be Saint James’ it couple if they got together. But Sasha had told Marcy all about her disdain for the football star claiming he was pretentious and only wanted to have sex with her and didn't care about her at all. It made Marcy feel good knowing Sasha valued her more than she ever would Brady. (That’s not saying much, but it was certainly something she had above him, which not everyone could say.)

The crowd died down as people began to leave. Marcy closed her book, grabbed her backpack, and prepared to take her leave as well until she heard a voice call out to her.

“Marcy!” Anne waved, carrying her French horn in one hand and her band shako in the other.

“Hey, Anne! Great job at the halftime show.” Anne shrugged modestly.

“Thanks. You didn't tell me you were going to be here tonight.”

“Well I wasn't planning on coming, but my parents told me it would be good for me if I came out.” Marcy replied.

“Whatever the reason, I'm glad you're here. Are you going to the party after this?”

“Party?”

“Yeah, Brady’s throwing one at his house to celebrate the first game of the season. You should go, everyone’s invited!”

“I don't know Anne, parties aren't really my thing,” Anne’s face softened and Marcy began to feel somewhat remorseful. She knew Anne wouldn't pry, but Marcy could tell she was disappointed, “But if you're going, I'll go too!” The clever girl gave in.

“Really? You sure?” Anne grinned. Marcy nodded exuberantly. She actually has only been to one other party before, at Maggie's house after homecoming last year. She had fallen onto a glass end table, shattering it. Marcy swore off parties henceforth. The nerd blamed alcohol as the catalyst of the whole ordeal to anyone who mentioned it but Marcy didn't drink a drop that night; she literally just tripped over herself.

Nevertheless, the thought of having Anne around put Marcy at ease.

“Did you drive here?” Anne asked and Marcy nodded her head, “I have to get changed and stuff but I'll meet you in the parking lot and you can just follow me, I know the way to Brady’s.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good, friend-o.” Marcy winked and shot off finger guns which just felt like way too many signals to give off all at once. She physically recoiled out of sheer cringe, dropping her hands to her sides stiffly. 

“Heh. Okayyy… friend-o ?” Anne chortled, smiling to herself as she walked off. Marcy facepalmed.

“ Friend-o?! Who says that?” she whispered abash, brushing off the embarrassment and gathering her things.

———

Anne and Marcy parked across from one another half a block down the street from Brady’s. Cars were already lining up on his driveway and spilling out into the street. Bass pulsed throughout the premises. Luckily Brady’s house was in a secluded wealthy neighborhood where residents hosted parties like this frequently so noise complaints were hardly an issue.

The front door was wide open so the two girls invited themselves in. Anne looked around, noticing fold-out tables with liquor and stacks of red solo cups. The lights were off and it seemed the whole place was lit up by disco lights. Everyone was buzzed at best as the party had just kicked off, small groups of friends and strangers talked amongst themselves laughing or boasting about the football team's victory that night.

“See anyone you know?” Anne leaned into Marcy raising her voice to be heard over the blasting stereo.

“The people I know don't show up to these things.” The black-haired girl yelled. The duo moved to the kitchen where Anne insisted the most people would be. As they squeezed through the growing mass of people, Marcy grabbed Anne’s arm. The tan girl turned around, taken aback. Marcy gawked at her apologetically as she quickly let go of the athlete's arm.

“Sorry! I didn't- I just feel like I'm going to get… engulfed or something.” Marcy said sheepishly, touching the back of her neck. 

“No, no it’s fine!” Anne insisted, silently yearning for Marcy to hold onto her again, “I was just startled.” She said, holding out her arm for Marcy to take as they shoved through the populace of people. But instead, Marcy grabbed ahold of Anne’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Butterflies danced in Anne's stomach and they tickled her uncomfortably but in the best kind of way. And for a brief moment, she felt like her heart was beating louder than the music as she made their way through the crowd.

Sure, Anne may have been slightly enamored by Marcy, but she couldn't help it. Anne had never met someone so infatuating. 

“Oh hey! I know them! That’s Vince from speech class. He went to D&D club once.” Marcy said, pointing at a kid with a slicked-back purple Mohawk standing alone by the refrigerator. Anne had to squint to recognize Vince without his green sunglasses. Marcy took the lead, pulling Anne along as they made their way over to the punk.

“Hey, Vince!” The short girl called out. Vince looked over, in the middle of taking a sip from their solo cup. He scrunched his face as he imbibed the drink in one go, shaking their head in disagreement with the taste of the beverage. 

“Man, that shit sucks! How you doing, Martian? Want something to drink?” They greeted Marcy, crumbling his plastic cup and tossing it in a nearby black garbage bag.

“No, I'm good. Have you met Anne yet?” Vince examined the tan girl up and down, zeroing directly at her hand entwined with Marcy’s.

“Not formally. Are you two like uh…?” They raised an eyebrow suggestively. Anne could feel herself turning red, reluctantly she let go of Marcy’s hand and subvocally pined over the loss of her touch.

“No it's- it isn't like that. We’re just friends.” Anne insisted.

“Uh huh,” Vince nodded slowly, still doubtful, “Have either of you seen Sasha?… Waybright?” Anne narrowed her eyes scornfully.

“No. Why? Is she looking for me- us?” Marcy gabbled hurriedly.

“No nothing like that. She said she’d catch me here. You know what? I bet her old man won't let her come, he sounds like a real prick.” The rocker grabbed another solo cup from a stack on the granite countertop and filled it with ice from the ice dispenser on the fridge, then grabbed a bottle of rum from the island and poured it into the cup. Suddenly, the stereo volume started to quell down.

“Spin the bottle’s starting in the basement!” The quarterback, Daniel was evidently sloshed as he held an empty beer bottle over his head. About half the patrons started making their way downstairs, chattering heatedly.

“Ooo~ that sounds like fun,” Vince said as they mixed diet coke into their cup of rum, “Are you girls gonna play or just watch?”

“I don't know…” The shorter girl mumbled under her breath.

Anne saw this as the perfect opportunity to finally kiss Marcy. Sure, the chances of Anne spinning Marcy were slim, but if she spun the bottle just right she was sure it would land on her. “Oh, we are so in!” Anne pumped her fist and peeked at Marcy. She looked dubious, swallowing down hard before shrugging in compliance. Anne felt like she spoke for Marcy too soon despite her adherence but subdued her feelings of self-reproach as the trio headed to the basement. The raven-haired girl still seemed apprehensive, wringing her hands, “Hey… you okay?” Anne was able to speak at a softer volume as the cacophony from the stereo had sunk to a more appropriate, non-ear-splitting, magnitude.

“Me? Pshh, I'm fine.” Macy waved dismissively. The basement was much larger than Anne had anticipated even with forty people all circled in one place. She hated rich people. There was a billiards table on the other side of the room. Did Anne like playing pool? Of course not, but as long as Brady had a pool table, Anne was envious of him.

Daniel and another boy pushed the furniture out of the way, making a large enough circle for anyone who wanted to play. People giggled, pushing their friends into the circle or teasingly making kissy faces at one another.

“Hey, there’s Sasha.” Vince pointed across the room. The tall girl stood in the circle with other cheer squad members, arms crossed as her friends shook her giddy with anticipation. Sasha was looking over, smiling and waving once noticing the purple-haired student, but her smile quickly vanished once she saw Anne glaring at her askance.

“C’mon! Let’s play!” exhorted Marcy, suddenly very keen to participate as she led the three of them in the circle.

Brady stepped in the center of the circle raising the empty bottle and a chessboard in the air. “Alright, everyone playing, come to the center. Everyone else, make room. Step back!” He moved his arms in a push motion, give or take twenty-five people stepped in the circle, all sitting down on the carpet as Brady set up the bottle on the chessboard. The football star sat between his buddy Daniel and Sasha who appeared peeved as she scooted away from the brown-haired boy, “Assuming we all know the rules: spin the bottle and kiss whoever it lands on. Five seconds minimum. The first player is to the host’s left.” He said with a hand on his chest as he turned to Sasha and winked. The boys around the circle started to whistle and jeer and Sasha’s friends squealed.

Sasha sighed, contrived as she crawled to the center, spinning the bottle and remaining sat as the glass bottle whirled, and Anne’s head seemed to reel with it. It didn't spin as excruciatingly drawn out as it felt. Virtually the whole room began to watch to see who the bottle would land on. The boys inside the circld licked their lips or fixed their hair, one guy even popping amintinto his mouth. On the surface, Anne supposed she could understand the appeal in Sasha. Hell, she was one of the most gorgeous human beings she's ever seen. Admittedly, in middle school, she would compare Sasha’s beauty to her own which wasn't very healthy for Anne as inhibited as she was at the time about her body.

Slowly, the bottle hindered, and the mouth of the bottle became stagnant, pointing undoubtedly… at Anne. She looked up at the blonde across the way, the room erupted, a few boys wolf-whistling and calling out jarring and lewd remarks while the girls cracked up, kicking their feet. Sasha gaped into Anne’s eyes, her lips parted as she inhaled sharply. The cheer captain’s eyebrows furrowed as she veered her gaze at Marcy next to the Thai girl. Marcy looked like she was holding her breath, her chest swelled but her sights remained fixed on the bottle, mouth ajar. Anne could feel the tension lingering in the air, but not between Sasha and herself. Marcy looked up, her face seemed to plead with Sasha as they goggled at one another. Then Anne realized…

Marcy had lied to her. The only reason she was even here with Anne sitting there, playing that dumb game in the first place was because of Sasha. She felt like a fool… like a led-on fool clinging to threads of hope, trying to believe she truly mattered to Marcy, but she was just reinforcing a connection that was never there. She was just her science partner, that's all Anne was to Marcy.

“Boo! Spin again, Sashy. You're both girls, it doesn't count.” Maggie pursed her lips as the room hummed in agreement. Sasha glared at her ginger friend with a hostile expression but scratched her jaw and bit her tongue, feigning a smile before chuckling listlessly and then reaching out and spinning the bottle for the second time.

The bottle whirled around, past Brady who scoffed not bothering to hide his aggravation, past Daniel and the other football players, past Anne and Marcy until it became sedentary, settling on Vince. Students around the circle clapped him on the shoulder or high-fived them. He shrugged, scooting to the center and sitting mere inches from Sasha. She bit her lip to contain her smile gazing deeply into Vince’s greenish-brown eyes.

“I didn't know your eyes were that color,” Sasha smirked, her cheeks becoming rosy. Vince opened their mouth to say something before being cut off by Brady.

“Well, get on with it. Kiss already.” He grumbled. Their audience started to chant, pumping their fists in the air. Vince grabbed Sasha’s face whispering something inaudible. Sasha nodded, holding his wrist gently as they leaned into one another and pressed their lips together. Anne glanced at Marcy who looked practically nauseated. The huddle of people counted to five, the two pulling away immediately once the time was up, wiping their lips and laughing as they returned to their spots on the floor. 

The game continued. Maggie kissed Daniel. Cheyenne kissed Omar. Marcy didn't move. As crossed as Anne felt, it was unnerving to see Marcy this still. She couldn't just stop caring for her just because Marcy didn't reciprocate her feelings, after all, Marcy couldn't have known how the brunette really felt about her.

“Dude, are y-”

“I should leave,” Marcy said robotically as she stood up abruptly and slipped her way past the crowd. Anne got up to follow her, excusing herself, assuring Vince they’d be right back. He gave her a thumbs up as she pushed through the mob and chased the raven-haired girl up the stairs into the foyer.

“Marcy! Wait!” Anne called desperately, and to Anne’s surprise, Marcy turned around with tears welling in her eyes. It crushed Anne’s heart.

“Anne, I can't do this I- I can't stay here. You-, you w- w,” Her words broke up and all he could muster were stuttering sounds. Hot teardrops streamed down her face, the disco lights reflecting an array of colors off the wet trails the tears left behind. Marcy squeezed her eyelids shut, hanging her head, and pressed the ball of her palms against her eyes. Anne grabbed the smaller girl by the shoulders leaning down to look at her. Her heart felt like it was constricting in her chest. She felt like she was going to throw up, “Y-you were right about Sash- Sasha and I. We've been involved with each other for almost a month now.” She sniffled. Anne hugged her close as Marcy sobbed into her shoulder.

“Hey… it's alright.” Anne soothed, trying to calm the emotional girl in her arms by rubbing her back in up-and-down motions.

“No. N-no it's not alright. She just kissed him knowing I was there, s-she looked at me! Kn-knowing how I'd feel and she did it anyway. I-I thought that she could’ve, could have like, liked me too, just… for who I am. God, I'm so stupid!” Anne knew exactly how Marcy felt, she was feeling it right then as she embraced her unyieldingly.

“Don't say that about yourself, Marcy! You’re not stupid! You're the smartest person I know.” Anne retorted.

“It’s not about that! I knew I was getting played and I just let it happen… I just wanted to be wanted.” She wept. Anne’s shirt was getting damp; she hardly cared. Here Marcy stood in her arms feeling the same as her in that moment, betrayed by her own emotions and it took everything in Anne’s power to conceal her own. The taller girl pulled away holding Marcy’s face and wiping away stray tears with her thumbs.

“You are wanted, Marcy. More than you know,” Marcy looked away, sniffling, “Look at me, Marcy,” Anne turned Marcy’s round face, making her look up at her, “I'll be honest. I- I never really paid much attention to you before this week… B-but I wish I did! You're one of the most interesting and cool people I've ever met, dude!” Marcy frowned.

“No, Anne I-”

“Marcy, Seriously! I- I've never met anyone better at Mario Kart than you. And- and you always raise your hand when the teacher threatens to start calling on people. You have passion in everything you do even in a pinch and you never care what anyone thinks and… and it’s amazing! Man, I can see that and I’ve only just started to get to know you. If Sasha can't see that then screw her.” Breathlessly, Anne peered into Marcy’s deep brown eyes searching for a reaction. Her pupils had blown up, her eyes were bejeweled beneath the party lights.

Marcy’s choppy breathing and watery eyes remained for quite some time. Her lips quirked upward, barely but it was noticeable. The small girl suppressed a sob, “You mean that?” Marcy grabbed Anne’s hands, not removing them from her face, just simply holding onto them. Anne grinned sweetly, “I— thank you.”

They stayed like that. Just for a couple of moments. It was just them, everyone else who could have been watching wasn't even an afterthought. They were probably all too drunk to care anyway. Eventually, they did let go of each other. Marcy swayed, hands entwined behind her back

“I should go though, for real. It would be pretty awkward if I stayed… you know.”

“Yeah. I know. I'm going to hang back here a while longer. You have my number. Call me if you need to… talk? I'm here to listen.” Marcy got on her tiptoes, hugging Anne tightly.

“Bye. Thanks.” the short girl whispered into the crook of Anne’s neck. She pulled away, waving and briskly walking out the door. The brunette stood in the doorway unable to take her eyes off her crush. She felt warm, a blissful sensation similar to being wrapped in a soft blanket. She was in seventh heaven no doubt, it was exhilarating and new. Anne reveled in the feeling, hoping it would last a lifetime.

———*

Brady followed Sasha up the stairs. She paid him no mind as he called after her.

“Sash, please just stay a little longer!” He pried.

“I already told you when I got here, my curfew is ten. My dad will kill me if I'm not home.”

“You only live like a block away, let's just play one more round! The party just started!” Sasha emerged from the basement into the foyer, Brady not far behind her. He reached out, grabbing her shoulder, and the blonde shrugged him off. The party still seemed at its prime. People were talking or making out, quelling down their drinks, and playing beer pong on the dining room table. She noticed her kiss-to-be Anne Boonchuy standing near the doorway but hardly paid her any recognition. Marcy must have just left. Sasha had noticed the two leave the basement after she kissed Vince. She couldn't help but feel a bit remorseful for kissing Vince in front of Marcy given their recent history. Hopefully, she didn't leave because of her…

“You can’t forget your bag, Sasha.” Brady cooed.

Sasha remembered the duffle bag she brought to the party. It had her cheer uniform and her phone inside. She had weekend cheer practice tomorrow in preparation for regionals and couldn’t go home without it.

“Where is it? I set it right here.” She pointed to the spot at the bottom of the staircase where she left the bag at the start of the night, snug between a potted plant and an old grandfather clock.

“Daniel put all the bags laying around in the guest bedroom upstairs. Just to keep track of everything.”

“If you're just going to move people’s property around without telling them, doesn't that defeat the entire purpose of keeping track of people’s things?” Brady squinted, thinking for a moment.

“You want your bag or not?” Sasha huffed, motioning for the brute to lead the way to the guest bedroom. The bullheaded boy was much taller than Sasha, standing around six feet. His shoulders were broad and he was generally brawny in stature and frankly, sometimes he intimidated Sasha.

He lead her up the staircase that overlooked the foyer. Sasha looked over the balcony to see Anne Boonchuy staring at her, diverting her sight elsewhere promptly thereafter once the cheerleader made eye contact with her. Anne was a mystery to her. She seemed to hate her without a real rhyme or reason and Sasha didn't think the whole Marcy altercation from earlier warranted Anne to feel hostile toward her.

Brady opened the first door on the left side of the hallway. He looked around the unlit room, making sure no one was in the middle of having sex or doing drugs. There was just a bed without sheets and a dresser, granted, Brady’s family probably had more rooms in this house than they knew what to do with, “All right all clear. After you m’lady.” He bowed, smirking morosely as he held the door open. Sasha sneered at him reprehensibly and stepped into the room.

“So where is it, Brady? I don't have a lot of time,” The boy shut the door and all the light that poured into the room from the hall vanished into pitch-black nothingness. Sasha heard the click of a lock and a zipper. Her heart plummeted, churning in her stomach. “Brady. Stop fucking around you're freaking me ou-” Sasha felt a palm clasp over her mouth as she fell back on the mattress. She let out a muffled cry against him then bit down hard into his hand. He recoiled, grunting and retracting his hand. Sasha screamed again as she thrashed violently against him. He grabbed her wrists tightly pushing them above the slender girl's head with one hand, silencing her with the other as he put a hand around her throat, squeezing firmly.

“Shut. Up.” He snarled. His fingernails sank into her neck and all Sasha could do was try to kick him off, but he forced his weight against her hips, pushing her further into the mattress. Letting go of her wrists, he ripped away the fabric of her shorts and panties. The frigid air swept over her and prickled her uncovered skin. Sasha tried to claw his grip off her neck, gasping for air as his grasp only tightened around her windpipe. She couldn't make a sound. Salty tears flowed from her eyes, a black trail of mascara running down her face. A sharp object was thrust inside her, scraping against her insides over and over. Goosebumps adorned her body. She felt blood trickle down her skin. She was exposed, terrified, and violated in the most horrific and unthinkable way possible. She thought she was going to die, repeatedly slipping in and out of consciousness. It was the worst pain she ever felt and it just wouldn't end.

It was the longest fifteen minutes of her life. When he was done with her, he let go of her and got off the bed, zipping back up the fly of his jeans. Sasha could breathe again, but she kept holding her breath, scared that if she moved he would want more. In that moment, she would rather just be dead.

“Can't say you weren’t asking for it.” He muttered, opening a dresser drawer and taking Sasha’s duffel bag from it, and tossed it on the floor. He left the room. For a brief moment, light adorned the space and she could see everything. The blood seeping into the mattress, her shorts hastily torn apart, the bruises on her wrists, and her bare skin. Then the door slammed, and she could see nothing at all. She was numb, not to the pain, but she did feel empty. Like a stranger to herself, a shell of a human being who had the sanctity of her innocence ripped away from her. 

She wasn't beautiful.

She was worthless.

Several minutes passed, and she didn't move. She thought about what her mother and father would say, her mom would shriek and collapse to her knees, hysterical, and her father would ask what she’d done to deserve this ‘unnecessary male attention.’ Dread diffuses within her nerves down to her toes, leaving her body cold. She rolled off the mattress slowly to not prompt the shooting pain that engrossed her entirely. Her knees faltered and buckled with each excruciating step as she reminded herself how to walk. She felt droplets of blood fall onto the carpet and the torn articles of cloth fell off her lower body. Her trembling hands reached out to her bag discarded on the floor, she shuddered at the sound of the zipper as she opened the duffel bag and rummaged through its contents until she pulled out her white cheer skirt and slipped into it. The skirt clung against her shapely figure, the feeling of the fabric searing through her skin like fire. It was agonizing.

She limped down the hall, wiping away her tears and smudged makeup. She hobbled down those stairs a different person, clutching onto the banister for dear life. Sasha grits her teeth, staring blankly forward, quelling any exterior suspicion deep within her as she squeezed the strap of her bag. Some people turned their heads, gawking at Sasha as she staggered her feet and swayed, unstable, while most others paid little to no attention, mistaking her for being drunk.

She wished she was. Maybe then she would have had an excuse for being slow-witted enough to fall prey to something so heinous and evil that it would leave her undone in the most intimate form.

‘It’s my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault.” She harped on in her mind all the way to her car. The bass of the music inside the house still palpitated into the street. She opened the door to the driver’s side of her Porsche, and lowered herself inside, shutting the door and locking it promptly. The golden-haired girl sat quietly with her hands on the steering wheel, but the vehicle remained stationary. Sasha rested her forehead on the wheel as she cried softly to herself.