Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This recount of unlikely events is written purely for my future self, to make sense of when her own memories seem too unbelievable. It also serves to archive written pieces of erotic fiction based on real people, and when I use the verb archive I mean archive in a deep dusky box which will never see the light of day.

Hopefully the successful, brilliant and awarded future Beatrice Trudeau can look upon her past self with kindness. Mayhaps even lay a steady surgeon’s hand on these papers and smile, fond of these childish adventures she once experienced. I hope she will. I really do.

But let it be known that I look on my fiction with a mangled mess of pride and shame. It was never my intent to be a writer! I simply wrote for the fancy of reading my own thoughts more slowly than they hit my brain matter. I wrote these positively filthy stories simply because they made me happy. As hard as I study my dear STEM subjects, I wanted to treat the creative humanities as a respite. To leave my shame at the door, and only pick it up once I leave my sanctum of smut.

For fear of these precious papers being stolen again, I wish to claim that any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely intentional. Truth is stranger than fiction, and that is something I learned the hard way.

It all started an innocuous afternoon at Bullworth Academy. Me and the rest of my clique were studying outside, at the benches near the main entrance. I happened to look up from the biology book just in time to witness true biology at its worst: Jimmy Hopkins kissing Mandy Wiles!

For reference, should my future self ever lose her memory in martyrdom for experimental brain science, Jimmy Hopkins was my teenage crush. We had a few tête-à-têtes, some of which are detailed in this story, and made out on a multitude of occasions. Love is a strong verb, but in this youth I fully believed I loved Jimmy. My private writings prior to this incident mostly contained mine and his imagined future together as husband and wife. Jimmy isn’t an ideal partner, but his brutish charm and social capital as the king of the school was enough to fan my flames. Actually, I fell for him long before he rose to the top of Bullworth, for the record. I was one of the first.

Mandy Wiles on the other hand, is a nasty, elitist, jock-strap-sniffing, cheerleader, faux princess, full on BITCH!!! Also my roommate.

Picture my surprise when I stood up, ready to storm down the stone stairs and pull Mandy’s hair out, when I wasn’t alone in that desire. My compadre Cornelius rose to his feet as well, just as furious as I! We both had a halt when we recognized the other’s indignation, but as he had to pull up his trousers in preparation for the battle I was the first to speak.

“Why are you mad? Mandy doesn’t even care about you!” I accused, knowing very well of his crush on her as well as her open distaste for him.

“It’s not about Mandy, it’s about Jimmy!” Cornelius exploded. “We made out in the library just this morning!”

“You WHAT?”

Safe to say, our war path never made it down the stony steps to neither Jimmy nor Mandy. Me and Cornelius were at each other’s throats like feral cats. Luckily, thanks to the spirit of friendship, the rest of the nerds broke us up long before any prefects could come and give us disciplinary remarks that would haunt us for the rest of our lives. I did however crack Cornelius’ glasses, an expense which I had to reimburse from my very own college fund.

Ever since Jimmy brought peace to Bullworth, Earnest has started keeping a judicial court. It’s mostly us in the gang taking any and all infractions to a legal debate on Earnest’s initiative. He keeps saying that it will prepare us for the real world.

So there we were, all sat down in the observatory, Earnest as head judge, me and Cornelius on opposite ends of the floor, and all of the other boys playing witnesses, jury, and audience. First we gave our recounts, which were honestly not that different right down to the motives, and then Earnest opened the discussion with this literary gem:

“In my judiciary verdict: Jimmy’s a hoe.”

The peanut gallery went up in a roar of laughter. Me and Cornelius sat silent, brooding even, since none of these men cared to wonder what it’s like to be fond of a “hoe” like Jimmy. Despite the mutual violence that had brought me to this position, I felt a certain kind of kinship with Cornelius during that moment. Earnest had to bang his authentic don’t-ask-me-where-I-got-it gavel to bring order to the court again.

“No but really amigos, think about it. We’ve already settled the in-fighting! Both Cornelius and Beatrice have apologised, and come to an agreement about the breaking of optical property. In the honour of being a nerd, this scuffle is set and settled, except-!” With dramatic flourish he stepped onto his judge’s bench assembled from boxes. “The true criminal isn’t even present! We have not been able to discuss or judge James Hopkins blatant promiscuity!”

Algie raised his hand, and was given the word. “Do you want to bring him to justice?”

Melvin stood up and spoke out of order, with great flair: “Shall we challenge him to a duel for besmirching the hearts of our fairest maidens, regardless of gender?”

“Uh, actually, I never got the memo-” Bucky squirmed in his seat. “Are we okay with the gay, or are we-”

“NO, NO!” Earnest shouted loud enough to rattle the observatory railings. “We do NOT have any issues of homophobia! Think Bucky, think, you C minus of a man! JOCKS hate gay people, despite being the most GAY people in the entire world with their communal showers and intimate wrestling matches! THOSE PEOPLE are the REAL homophobes!”

This outburst that leaned equal parts ally and equal parts enemy of the LGBTQ+ community left everyone in stunned silence. That proved necessary, because the next thing Earnest did was to carefully climb off his soap box and say in his meekest voice:

“Also we will not say a word of this incident to Jimmy.”

“What? Why?” Donald hissed. “He caused trouble for us! Shouldn’t we at least let him know how we feel about it?”

“No, because then we have to tell him about our court.” Earnest admitted. “I never got the king’s permission to hold this power, and I fear what he will do to us if he finds out.”

I find it funny how that little word ‘us’ could change the meaning so much. If the danger had been no one but Earnest getting pummeled into a pulp it would have been seen as a natural consequence of his hubris. But as soon as he suggested that there will be an equal distribution of pulping the whole clique unites to resist the imagined tyranny of Jimmy vs World. I don’t know, I’m still a little upset with Earnest and how he treated this case, because when I lived these moments I was about to lose it.

My hair was a mess, might even have torn some out, I had bruises on my knees, aching muscles from fighting myself, a broken nail, and throughout the trial I had picked on one of my cold sores to the point that it stung and probably bled a little too! So with this in mind I kind of understand the hysteria that was about to possess me. 

“Well then, is the jury adjourned? Cornelius? Beatrice? Do you feel like this is fair?”

“No!”

It was the first time I spoke since giving my testimony, and that simple interjection was all I needed to let the dams loose. I went on a rant, started crying throughout it, and spilled secrets I had in hindsight rather kept. I told them all about how much I like Jimmy, and how I fantasise about a future together with him despite my better judgement. Nobody dared stop me so I just went on! They listened as I explained how Jimmy and I were already married and had a wonderful five year old name Arnold in my imagination! They took me seriously as I confessed that seeing Jimmy kiss Mandy out of all possible people felt so much worse than whoever else he might hoe it up with. Nobody giggled as I repeatedly cried about how it felt like even the Jimmy of my dreams was cheating on me!

All because Mandy is so pretty. All because she’s easy, and I’m too smart to ever connect with Jimmy. I’m not what he needs, and it kills me inside.

Thankfully Bucky dared to step up when I hit this low. The simple touch of his half hover-handing pat on my back was enough to snap me out of it. He stayed there, and I stayed silent in shame.

“Your honour,” Melvin said, hand on his heart. “I, if anyone, know very well how real the realms of fantasy may appear to the ones gifted with that type of intellect. My suggestion is that we continue this trial, and that we do bring Jimmy into it. The imagined Jimmy. He is the criminal we have the power to punish.”

I’ll never forget the look on Earnest’s face. It spelled out so clearly “is this what my life has come to?” without any of the malice I would have expected. He slicked his hair back, corrected his glasses, and took hold of the gavel with confidence.

“Bring the accused to the witness stand!”

Cornelius got a seat in the audience. On his previous chair a sack of nuts and bolts (unsorted) as well as a cardboard box labelled “canned potatoes” were assembled to represent Jimmy. I don’t know who drew the face in all of the chaos, but it was a charmingly close match as far as scowling doodles go.

“James Trudeau Hopkins is charged with the morally reprehensible crime of cheating on his wife! The other party has explicitly requested to avoid a divorce, and thus we need to find a different mode of paying these dues. Jury, discuss!”

I won't lie, I thoroughly enjoyed the hour that followed. It solidified the belief that I do love my friends. After having a mental breakdown in front of them, they stepped up to support my maladaptive daydreaming to the most extravagant of extents. They asked me genuine questions about mine, Jimmy and Arnold’s life together. I had fun! I never thought I could have such a deep discussion of crime and punishment in the realm of imagination. (Well, maybe in a game of Grottos & Gremlins, but that’s besides my point.)

The suggested solutions ranged from cheating on him back (I would never, and there’s nobody else I want) to excruciating torture of his genital area (no thanks). We spent a lot of time discussing if killing off the imaginative Mandy would help, but the verdict was that it does not absolve Jimmy of the crime of cheating on me with her. A multitude of quests for Jimmy were made up, all so that he could work through his guilt and prove his love to me again, but there was one glaring problem…

Jimmy would just do that. Jimmy would fight a hundred ninjas any Tuesday of the month, because he enjoys it! Is it truly a quest of redemption if none of the challenges pose any challenge? The discourse became really philosophical, and that’s when Algie struck gold.

“Yeah, Jimmy isn’t even afraid of sharks, is he…? But, isn’t there one thing that Jimmy is afraid of though?”

Like a parallel circuit, all of our light bulbs struck at once. In perfect unison, we said the answer as a choir.

“Gary!”

For the uninitiated, or those that would rather forget, Gary Smith is an enigma. He is Jimmy’s worst enemy, just as he is Jimmy’s first friend. Gary used to rule this school as a shadow king, eliciting senseless violence rather than establishing stability. Jimmy was the transfer student to tear him down from that pedestal, but only after being stepped on as a servant one too many times. It’s complicated…

But that’s the short of it. Gary is the only person who Jimmy fears, despite winning their long battle in the end. To be quite frank, I fear Gary too. He made it no secret that he liked to bully girls to psychotic degrees as soon as he entered Bullworth. To save myself the mental trouble I had avoided him as best I could for my entire stay at the academy. 

When my silly court battle against the imagined Jimmy was settled, Gary was still locked up inside the mental asylum Happy Volts. I shiver at the contrast between his padded cell and my place of privilege. But here is where our paths metaphorically crossed first.

For reference to the pages of fiction that will follow, the wise men say that the best place to hide is in plain sight. My diary is my diary, and while it serves the purpose of a diary, it is also a decoy. I carry it around with me in my usual pile of books because that’s the pretty pink target that any nefarious foe is tempted to look into. My fiction on the other hand is not inside of the diary.

I write all of my work interspersed in my school notes. There is a system, ciphered by yours truly, on which pages to skip as you flip through the book to get to those left blank and ready for derailment. If the common fool was to ruffle through my notes there is a believable amount of lecture notes, homework, fun diagrams, and extracurricular studies to make my notes look like the most boring thing in the world to pay attention to. If you do happen upon a page detailing Arnold’s fifth birthday party, the continuation to that story is an odd number of pages away. For a bully it’s very, very hard to find.

It actually hurts me a little to tear these select pages out and arrange them in reading order. Naturally the art of archiving would be more upheld if I could forfeit the brunt of my notebooks here, but I still need these notes. My perfect study technique and curriculum can not be slowed for the sake of my hobbies. Either way, future me, thank me later and enjoy the reading material separated from the cipher context it was written in. 

(A final note of context is where I wrote this first entry. It was the evening after the trial, and I was in my dorm room. In that context… Mandy is my roommate. She was lewdly lounging on her bed in her slutty short-shorts pyjamas as I sat by my desk to put pen to paper. That, and my undying rage and hatred, might be why she’s not featured by name.

Spurred on by my compadres verdict, I let my imagination flow. As punishment Jimmy had to meet Gary again, and he had to hate every second of it. (I’m still impressed at how lifelike I managed to portray Gary’s terrifying psyche.))

Jimmy takes a deep drag of his second cigarette. The first one he smoked in the bed of infidelity. This one stinks up the bus stop of regret. It wasn't Jimmy's idea, but the whore told him to leave his car at work and commute to her saccharine embrace. Now that Jimmy has to commute back to a loving nuclear family he feels more stupid.

How could he do this to his wife?

Jimmy's dunce head has no answer. He smokes his cigarette.

"Got a light?" Asks the stranger who joins him at the bus stop.

Without a word Jimmy extends his worn metal zippo. He doesn't realise who it is until it's too late.

Gary takes Jimmy's hand. Expertly he flicks the lighter open, and scratches forth a spark between them. There is a deep eroticism as Gary lights his cigarette on that flame, slightly bent to reach Jimmy's shorter frame. From afar they look like a pair in courtship: Gary bowing to kiss Jimmy's fingers in deep reverence.

Up close they are enemies. Teenage rivals aged up. Jimmy stares in disbelief at Gary. The taller man looks taller still thanks to his sweeping trench coat (of mid century German design).

"Why are you here?"

Gary grins around his cig, his devilishly handsome scar still marring one eye.

"Revenge is best served cold, eh Jimmy boy?"

An envelope is handed over. The parcel is branded at one corner with "Smith & Sons - Private Detective" in green ink. Jimmy shivers, but starts to fiddle it open with his short nails.

Gary starts talking, just like he did at Bullworth Academy all those years past.

"I'll give you the simple rundown since you're probably too slack jawed to ask. I got released from Happy Volts about the time you and Beatrice got married. Were it not for my circumstantial parole I would have crashed that phoney wedding myself, but lurking from afar taught me something important. You were happy Jimmy. For once in your miserable life, you had found a woman smart enough to make an idiot like you truly happy.

So I vowed to bide my time with you, Jimmy. I vowed to let you have your American dream, and let that happiness and joy build as far as it could go... All so I could tear it down when it would hurt the most."

Jimmy finally got the envelope open. From it he extracted photographs. Photographs of him and the whore kissing, holding hands, lewdly embracing together. Definite proof. Of everything.

"But you jumped the gun, Jimmy." Gary clicks his tongue. "You were about to ruin it all on your own, without me lifting a finger."

Jimmy swallows, mouth unbearably dry. Shock upon shock, surprise after surprise, the relentless barrage has him frozen. Gary takes advantage of it, and swings an arm around his shoulders.

"You know what's funny?" He giggles manically. The breath caresses Jimmy's ear much too hot. "I was doing so good. I planned to leave you alone. I planned to wait all those years until little Arnold had gotten into his dream college. Only then would I run him over, leaving you wondering what your fully formed son could have become if he only had more time..."

Violently Jimmy shoves him off. The fatherly habits he has developed show in the accusing finger he raises at Gary.

"YOU LEAVE ARNOLD OUT OF THIS!"

Gary just laughs. "Me? But Jimmy, I haven't done anything yet! I'm the good boy today, while you're the bad father!"

"Shut the fuck up! My son loves me!"

"As does your wife! Oh, put poor, poor them-" Gary started miming tears, mockery in his face. "You've doomed them to a life of divorce. Will cheating be worth it when you see Arnold on the weekends? When you see his resentment grow over the years? When he stoutly swears to never become like you?"

"You-" The punch Jimmy throws never lands. Gary catches it, stronger now, and holds Jimmy at bay. The shift in dynamic makes Jimmy freeze in fear.

"Or would you prefer to murder me, Jimmy boy?" Gary asks, a disconcerting purr in his voice. "Being little Arnold's daddy in jail does seem more on brand for you... I'm sure Beatrice's media team would have a field day trying to deal with that debacle."

Helplessness sets in. Jimmy falters, realising he's fully at Gary's mercy. His dropped cigarette lies smouldering on the ground. Gary takes a deep drag of his, and blows the smoke in Jimmy's face.

"What do you want Gary?" Asks Jimmy, tearing up in the smoke. No longer a grown man, he's standing in the ghost of the teenager he once was, repeating the same lines in the very same voice.

Only now he's more pathetic.

Gary can barely contain his excitement.

"You're going to do whatever I say."

Chapter Text

Jimmy feels like a hostage inside of the sleek Sedan Gary drives. Only the thought that he does this to absolve himself of his guilt, and to protect Beatrice and Arnold, keeps him from snatching the steering wheel and crashing both of them into a tree. He has to live. 

Suicide isn't an option.

But Gary seems full of options. Gary hasn't changed. Gary drives his car with a well practised ease, not at all like the twitchy psycho who threatened to vehicularly manslaughter somebody else's son on purpose. That would be murder.

Murder isn't an option either.

Without any particular reason, Gary drives to the side of the odd lonesome road and slows the car to a stop.

"Why are we stopping?" Jimmy asks.

"For traffic safety and regulations." Gary replies with a shrug. "I'm in no reasonable state to drive right now, so I'd better stop."

"What? What's wrong?" Jimmy flinches inwardly. "Do you even have a licence?!"

Gary laughs. Laughs hard as he leans on the steering wheel, pulling the key out of the ignition. His key has a faded and worn Bullworth Academy lanyard attached, and he hands this to Jimmy.

"Hold this" he instructs between stitches of giggles.

Jimmy does as he is told. He has to do anything and everything Gary tells him, or else his family would be ruined. That fact makes Jimmy feel some kind of way he doesn't want to put words to. Whatever sword that would spell, it is double edged for sure.

Forgive the cut page, but something relevant happened to my writing context here. I happened to giggle at my own wordplay, which made Mandy irritated. She pulled up one side of her ugly sleeping mask and said:

“Shut up nerd! It’s lights out already, so fuck off and go to bed.”

I was about to give her a piece of my mind, but thankfully the jangling keys of one of our dorm matrons stopped me. To not get caught I switched off my lamp and hid behind my bed, clutching my “physics notes” close to my chest. The old lady did poke her head into our room, but she was much too elderly to recognise that my bed was empty in the darkness. 

My heart was racing. Usually my creative writing never keeps me up past lights out. Something about this storyline, the way I had Jimmy trapped in the car, I just had to continue writing. That was why I collected my things, and prepared to head to the bathrooms.

“Why do you even have to study this late?” Mandy mumbled.

“We have tests coming up.” Was my stiff excuse. “Not that you’d care.”

“Right, I don’t care. Good night, loser.”

The most clear cut reason for my hatred of Mandy has to be how uncool I become in her presence. I can imagine killing her imaginary character off a dozen different ways, but the moment real life Mandy speaks to me in private I shrivel and wilt as a person. She hardly ever speaks to me in public. It’s just the unfortunate circumstances of us being roommates that forced us to have this awkward relationship despite neither of us wanting it.

I know Mandy seems like an unrelated side note in this story, but I promise she will be even more relevant later. At first she seemed to just be the circumstantial catalyst, but she had more surprises up her sleeve (or rather in her bra, her girly cheerleading uniform has no sleeves).

Either way, my fiction resumes. Know that I wrote this curled up on one of the dorm toilets, so that my feet wouldn’t be visible from afar.

“Oh Jimmy” Gary positively moans when he has finally stopped laughing. “Your observational skills must have worsened with age. Back in the good ol’ days, forgive me for calling them that, you know what you did to me, but way back when… I’m sure you would notice. I feel like a well lit billboard in the middle of town, broadcasting what’s wrong with me for all to see.”

Despite the haunting logos on it, Jimmy plays nervously with the keychain’s lanyard. “You’re crazy. That’s what's wrong with you. What has always been wrong with you.”

“That word means nothing to me nowadays. I’m fine,” and with a sing-song mockery he adds: “the doctor said so.”

Gary’s eyes have started eating Jimmy alive. How he has missed this loveable hunk of muscle and mass, so heavy where he sits trapped in the car seat. Gary feels so obvious. He licks his lips, revelling in the fear that shows on Jimmy’s face.

“Anyway, put your hands behind your back and hold the lanyard with both hands. No, I’m not going to tie you up, that would ruin my fun. Just hold onto that and don’t let go, and I’ll be happy with you.”

A distinct shiver runs down Jimmy’s back when he does what he is told. Him and Beatrice may have dabbled in dominance and submission, but this is different. This is submission with his whole life on the line, marital or physical. Those stakes make everything feel more real. But what type of humiliation does Gary have in store…? He couldn’t…?

Jimmy’s worst fear comes in the lightest of touches. Gary strokes the side of his face. It is tender, it is careful. It is sensual with no way to deny it.

Then Gary roughly grabs Jimmy’s jaw and turns his head to face the driver’s seat. For a brief period Gary just admires the face of his enemy, before spitting right in it. There is a jerk, a wish for violence, but Jimmy’s hands remain bound by the command he had been given. So Smithsonian spit on his cheek, Jimmy only glowers at Gary, teeth clenched so hard they might break.

“Good boy” praises the captor. The same terrifying, tender touch smears the spit out like a bloodstain. “You’re nothing but a whore, and you know that.”

Jimmy’s body betrays him. Beyond a shiver, he feels his dick twitch. Desperate to defend his honour he speaks through those clenched teeth.

“Shut up. You haven’t told me to agree with anything you say, have you?”

“Of course not. I like you better this way.”

“You’re still a fucking psycho.”

“Doesn’t that make us one and the same?” Before Jimmy could answer, Gary’s thumb is dragging spit along his lips, silencing him in an agonising indirect kiss. “I’m surprised you settled for Beatrice. Sure she has the smarts, but does she have the edge you need in your life Jimmy? I just know that nobody made you feel as alive as I did, and to this day you’re the only one who has earned my complete and utter obsession .”

Gary draws in one shuddering breath. He lets go of Jimmy, and goes to fumble with his belt. All of his motions are fast, even desperate, so right as Jimmy finds the words to protest Gary roughly grabs onto his neck and pulls him down. Painfully slung over both the gearstick and the handbrake, Jimmy is trapped once more.

He should have been surprised, but he isn’t. The very same motion Gary pulls out his dick, he reveals a switchblade in his other hand.

“I own you now, Hopkins. Knowing that made me this fucking hard, just driving in the same car with you.”

“What are you, a virgin?” mocks Jimmy.

“Yes!” Gary moans, not affirming the question, but revelling in how despite it all Jimmy Hopkins is still Jimmy Hopkins. He runs the knife over Jimmy’s temple. “Just like that, run your whore mouth at me and see where it gets you! I want you to resist me as pathetically as you can, so I can crush you over and over again. Go on, blow me. Suck my cock, but beware, if I feel any amount of your nubby teeth I’ll make little Arnold a god damned orphan.”

Disbelief flares into fear in Jimmy’s eyes. He stares right up at Gary, the question clear enough without ever voicing it.

“I mean it.” Gary nods. Impatiently he taps the head of his penis against Jimmy’s closed lips. “I’ll kill her too if you don’t behave, you filthy slut.”

He had no other choice. Jimmy parts his lips fully, lolling out a tongue to lap at Gary’s anatomy. Salivating all over it from the side gives Jimmy a chance to glance at Gary’s reaction, but that… Isn’t worth it. Gary seems to be reaching a psychotic mania of misguided joy as he coerces Jimmy to have oral sex. It is the last thing Jimmy wants to look at.

So he closes his eyes and chooses the lesser of two evils. Jimmy knows that beyond all of his feelings for the man attached, a dick is just a dick. He keeps his lips neatly wrapped around his teeth to avoid that harrowing threat. But as the hardness of Gary fills his mouth, he finds himself knowing exactly what to do. Jimmy sucks that cock with a vengeance.

Gary is not one to voice his pleasure of the flesh. He is the man to silently savour the sensation, almost too quietly. The only sound to betray his excitement is his breath. He sounds winded, but keeps a tight control of his body to not let it sound like panting. That would be beneath him.

That is exactly what Jimmy is aiming for. If he can’t weasel his way out of this situation, he wants to leave Gary Smith with his brains blown out, embarrassed by his own bodily reactions. Putting all of this determination into his mouth, he builds Gary up fast.

Gary had expected more resistance. He figured he would have time to tease Jimmy more with the knife, and to argue back and forth about doing this or not. What seems to have gone awry is how efficient the threats on Jimmy’s family proved to be.

“Not bad, James...” Gary speaks. It’s a tightrope dance to not sound affected. “Did that filthy whore you cheated with give you any pointers?”

Jimmy doesn’t stop his vigorous bobbing. That rejection makes Gary audibly wince.

“No, I suppose not…” He bites his lip to stifle a moan. “You just have a natural talent in that big mouth of yours, to make up for your shrunken brain.”

This proves to be enough to make Jimmy stop. His panting breath runs hot over Gary’s sex.

“Gary, your dick is just small.”

“No-Ooh!”

Falling for the trap, Gary unmistakably moans in pleasure when Jimmy goes back down sucking as deep as he can. Gary flushes in his face, happy that Jimmy can’t see it. He makes sure of it, keeping the knife against Jimmy’s scalene muscles. If Jimmy dares turn his head to glance up all he has to do is press to draw blood. He wants to draw blood…

But it’s the desperate way he needs to hold himself back so that he doesn’t moan, doesn’t groan, doesn’t say anything he would regret, all so that he doesn’t cum. He might just cum like this. Jimmy is his bitch, that’s right, his little bitch, and a good bitch had better know how to please his master right- it’s just going so fast.

Unable to hold himself back any longer Gary lets a noise escape. It’s muffled against his palm. It’s unmistakably a groan, and it builds. Jimmy keeps the exact same tempo. It was a wise choice, as the steady stimulation rides Gary up over the edge to climax. On that wave Gary’s voice also intensifies. The most dramatic moan is that dramatic because he finally lets go of his mouth, spilling his wordless love out one octave too high. Down below the free hand pushes Jimmy’s head down, spilling the bitter seed in mighty spurts into the other’s mouth. 

Jimmy focuses on not choking. He doesn’t enjoy this, not one bit. At least, that’s what he wants to think. His cock is just hard from the sexual adrenaline that the situation has produced. Gary pulses time and time again, emptying a decade’s worth of longing into a place that doesn’t feel the same.

“Swallow.” Gary dryly commands, back on his balancing block of seeming unaffected.

Once you’ve gone past the point of no return, it’s typical to feel numb. Jimmy does as he is told, swallowing once without taking the dick out of his mouth. It makes Gary shiver as his still sensitive organ feels his demand be fulfilled.

There is no place for kindness now. Gary yanks Jimmy up again, finally freeing his captive from the uncomfortable centre console. Back in the passenger seat Gary’s knife finds the interior jugular vein. The cold metal presses without piercing. The only piercing thing is Gary’s gaze right into Jimmy’s eyes.

“What do you say, Jimmy? Thank you for the meal?”

Jimmy returns the favour from their twisted foreplay, spitting right into Gary’s eye. It’s a glob mixed half and half with saliva and semen. Shocked, Gary actually retracts the knife to dry his eye from the gross slime.

Then he just smiles. Whatever choice Jimmy just made, Gary loves it. He flicks the knife closed and dries his fingers on Jimmy’s shirt. After a second thought he dives in, rubbing his face in the crook of Jimmy’s neck. It’s another way to wipe himself. It’s just tinged with affection. Something Gary Smith shouldn’t logically ever show.

“We’re going to have so much fun, believe me, it’s going to be even better than before.” Gary sighs. “It’s just you and me now Hopkins, just you and me.”

I stopped writing here because my imagination waned. Then I read back what I had actually written. The dryness of my imagination may just have been replaced with the wetness of my desire. Please do not hold it against me, future me! I had no idea that reading smut about my crush and his worst enemy could do something like that to me! Much less did I know that I could write it!

Nobody caught me as I snuck back to my room. If I were the type of girl who could masturbate wherever she wished, I would probably have done it in the bathroom. It just so happens that I most reliably perform that physical function when I am in bed. I find it to be a warm and safe place to relax that way. Please bear in mind that not doing it would be impossible after my revolutionary discovery.

In my defence I did first check and safely assume that Mandy was asleep. Under my own covers I laid down flat on my back. With my head full of the scene in the car, I put just one hand in an incriminating position to relieve myself.

Since that night I’ve analysed thoroughly why that fantasy turned me on so much. I have come to the conclusion that it wasn’t the non-consent, the threats, or the knife play. Even if they are complicated at their core, I think it was the intense feelings between my two objects of desire (shudder, should Gary Smith ever read me referring to him as such). In that scene I also didn’t assume my own role as either party. The author, and the reader, were nothing but voyeurs to Jimmy and Gary’s intense sexual and emotional issues.

Although if I am to liken myself to anything I just wrote it is that I am normally very silent when I masturbate. This night happened to become a slip of an exception. Inspired by how Gary lost control of his voice as he climaxed, I had one or two tiny moans out as I went over my peak. As soon as the hormonal rush was over I felt terrified that anyone might have noticed. Luckily I managed to calm my anxiety and fall asleep.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, Mandy had heard everything. Her eyes had been wide open under her sleeping mask. She had been irritated that I was taking so long in the bathroom, and wholly convinced me returning would wake her up either way, so she stayed up. Resting believably in the foetal position on her side, even breathing as slow as she could, she tricked me! 

I do feel bad for the position my naive folly put her in. But at times like these, are we all not victims of circumstance? Thankfully, I wouldn’t find out about this mutual mistake of ours until much later.

The immediate reaction from my fellow nerds was much smaller than I expected. I still don’t know how boys think, no matter how many neurological studies I elect to read, but it seemed that their resounding decision was to pretend nothing was different. We met in the morning and went to class like any other day.

Bucky was the only one who seemed at all huffed at the previous day's revelations. He had become bitter again. It’s so typical! As soon as it seems we can be just friends he gets jealous when he hears how much I love another man. As always, we fell into our common pattern of ignoring each other.

At lunch Melvin was the only one to outright talk about the judicial verdict that we had come to. He literally asked if “the criminal had gotten his due diligence” with an odd waggle of his eyebrows. I got a bit flustered, knowing the truth, but I quickly scrambled up a half-true-lie. I think what really settled it was the secretive whisper I spoke it in, so nobody else would hear.

“Gary is a detective now, and he has blackmail-pictures of the crime. It frightened Jimmy something awful , so he’s back on the straight and narrow.”

“Oho? Pray tell, did this mythical Gary act as psychotic as we remember him?”

“He said already had plans to kill our son…” I blurted out, but managed to stop myself from giving too many details. “Of course I’d never let him do that, but Jimmy believed him.”

Melvin laughed, very pleased with my imagination of Gary (if only he knew). 

But as psychology goes, Melvin had actually only brought up the topic because he wanted to discuss his private writing. I was quite safe with my secrets, as long as I listened on to Melvin’s imagined adventure. It involved him dying to be reincarnated in a fantasy world, and then he had gathered up a whole harem of amicable party members of varying races. Although he never outright said it, I could glean between the lines that the stories of these women and him were quite lewd in nature. At least I wasn’t alone with self-producing masturbatory material.

A day later there was a significant run in with Jimmy himself. He appeared by my locker, right as the bell was about to ring. I totally freaked out, since Jimmy hardly ever comes to me directly. To make matters more dreamy the light from the windows were hitting his round head just so. My heart was fluttering before he even spoke.

“You okay, Beatrice?”

“Yes!” I blurted, my voice pathetically high. “What brings you here, Jimmy? Are you okay?”

He was so handsome when he raised his muscular arm up to scratch at his head. “Algie said something about me making you cry or some shit.”

It’s no surprise that information would seep out that way, since Algie can be mocked for having a similar incontinence in his vocal chords as his bladder. Later when I quizzed him about it he told me that he had let it slip when Jimmy was stuffing him into a trash can for no apparent reason. There is less bullying nowadays, but it still happens, since it is a natural consequence to such a mass of hormonal teenagers as a high-school collects.

Me on the other hand, faced with this question, in the heat of the moment, felt absolutely compelled to act ‘normal’. Nevermind the dirty fantasies I’ve always had about him, or worse who they nowadays included. Therefore, I relied on the defence mechanism of deflection.

“Oh that old story? I’m already over it, so don’t worry about me. It’s fine really, I don’t have time to worry about feelings with our mid-term exams coming up so soon! You’re an absolute darling for coming to check up on me though.”

“Well you know…” Jimmy glanced up at me with that roguish charm. He actually stepped closer and took my hand. “The king has to keep everyone happy, doesn’t he?”

If that isn’t the phrasing of a hoe I don’t know what is, now that I put it on paper. In the romantic swoon of the moment, I just smiled like a lovesick fool and leaned in for a kiss. Apparently this was all Jimmy came to check. As soon as he saw that he had my undying loyalty, reality set in. 

Reality was apparently the one flare-up sores I had on my lips. It had gotten worse since I picked at it during the trial. I saw his eyes widen as he noticed it through my half lidded eyes. Then he just side-swiped my advance, and gave me a peck on the opposite cheek. To save both of us the awkwardness of acknowledging that, the bell rang.

I excused myself and hurried away to class.

There was one entry of erotic writing that was lost during this time, however. I did try to continue the story when my first piece had become worn like a vinyl record from me reading it too much. To summarise Gary wanted Jimmy to keep living a happy married life with me, but to infringe perversions into it. The final goal I could imagine him having was to break Jimmy’s spirit…

In this lost piece Jimmy had to spend a normal evening at home. The catch was that he had to wear an anal plug inside of him throughout it. At first during writing I was very excited at Jimmy pretending so valiantly to hide the dirty secret. But as the imagined evening went on my character got concerned for him. Then he had to reject me. When Arnold noticed that mommy was sad, he tried asking what’s wrong.

That was when I became too disgusted with myself (and/or fake Gary) for putting sexual kink in the spaces of non-consenting co-victims, half of which were innocent children. To purge this idea from the world I dissolved the pages in my chemistry set. Mandy was at cheer practice, so nobody witnessed me crying over spilled hydrochloric acid.

This was also when I vowed to abandon the storyline of Jimmy cheating, and thus of Gary ever entering back into our lives. For a while I really had myself fooled. With renewed vigour I gave myself more awards, and Jimmy was ever so sweet to me and even more proud. 

But soon enough a new storyline would take hold of me with the same passion that the first entry had. All that fate was waiting for was for inspiration to strike.

Chapter Text

To tell the truth, I was like Eve in the Garden, I had tasted the fruit of wisdom, although I could not describe the taste. No matter how I wrote about mine and Jimmy’s perfect life together it would not thrill me. Even if I tried to add sexual flavours to our weekend retreats (Arnold has a wonderful baby sitter) it just didn’t reach the same heights as Gary’s dark favour. My writing was dull and habitual instead of the respite of freedom I desired it to be.

As a student it should be natural to me to seek advice from the mentors of my institution. It just so happens that the teachers of Bullworth Academy range from impeccable to deranged, both adjectives befitting each and every person. As an example: As much as I admire Dr. Slawter for his passion for biology it serves to note that his flipside is a morbid researcher of death. One time I managed to get me and my friends locked in a one hour private lecture on the process of rot. Fascinating! But… Perhaps overzealous?

What I am struggling to get at in eloquent forms is that each and every adult figure I have to turn to in my formative years at this boarding school have distinct downsides to their personalities. On the topic of creative writing I had to dare open up to Mr. Galloway. I waited in nervous agony hoping that he would be somewhat sober one of these days.

When I finally couldn’t take it I approached him after class. It’s an easy way to achieve privacy in a school where everyone bolts at the sound of the bell. Galloway was just reaching for his flask when I struck up conversation.

“Mr. Galloway, what do you do when you don’t like the story you’re writing?”

He blinked, confused. After taking a deep chug he squinted at me: “Do you mean literally or shuu-icidally?”

“Heavens no! I’m talking literally, words on paper, that’s all.”

“Great, cause I don’t have much answers for the second option” he chuckled to himself. “They don’t teach you that when you get your English degree...”

He seemed lost in memory. After the silence became awkward I managed to swallow my bile and dare confess further.

“Mr. Galloway, you see… There was this story I really enjoyed writing. Nowadays it’s not as fun, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, what’s the story about?”

This question I had prepared for mentally. I described how my “character A” was living a happy life with “character B”, and about how successful A was in her life, about the heights of science she had achieved, but right about when I started going on how B loves her he rudely interrupted me!

“Stop, stop, stop! Beatrice- I mean… What’s the plot?”

“What I just said, it’s about their life together-”

“Yes, yes, of course, but what’s the…How do you say… Conflict?”

That word washed over me just like his whiskey breath. An immediate thought entered my mind, and it was Gary. Gary was the conflict, and I had abandoned him. I didn’t want conflict.

Mr. Galloway obviously read me right in my conflicted silence, so he went on:

“Now, take this the wrong way, I mean right, uhh… What you’re describing is a daydream type story. It’s a nice soothing place where nothing has to happen. Most young writers usually start there, and it’s a nice nursery for the pen and the page. Get you into the groove of describing, uhhh… Words and all that jazz.”

He took a break, sage lips to his crude bottle, wrapped in crinkly paper. For once I didn’t mind his uncouth habit. I already knew in my heart he was speaking the truth.

“It’s a natural state to outgrow.” He hiccuped. “To be frank, it’s plain boring in the long run. All great stories have some conflict! Trust me, if I wasn’t stuck teaching half of these high school kids how to spell we could be studying the Aristotle and the- Oh nevermind, it’s no use dreaming.”

He slumped into a new depression. I had half a mind to leave and read up on Aristotle myself, but the direct mentorship had me staying. Galloway’s earnest acceptance of my silly writing questions had me feeling safe.

“There was a conflict, actually.” I said softly. “Character C came in, having loads of history with B. It was a bit messy, but C’s goal was to tear B away from A.”

“Oh yeah? How’d they do that?”

“I don’t know. I stopped writing.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to lose him…”

Thankfully, Galloway didn’t see through his own drunken haze to untangle the obvious hints I was dropping. Alternatively, he pretended not to understand to spare me the shame of my freudian slip.

“Beatrice.” he said, taking a stabilising hold of his desk so as to not sway. “I think you should write something else. Don’t mess up your creative nursery room. Let it be as is. But get out there, roll in the mud of some new story, break new ground, just don’t give up, you hear me?”

I nodded hurriedly, unexpectedly fired up over such a rudimentary inspirational speech.

“I don’t see you becoming an English major any time soon, but if I can encourage anyone to develop the craft of writing I will! I mean, it probably says I should in my employment contract…”

This new quest was mind boggling to me. As I’ve previously excused myself, I never meant to be a writer. To write something new came with the added expectation of being remotely original. Mine and Jimmy’s future life was… Well, at heart it was inspired by a true story? I don’t know much about originality. When it comes to becoming a doctor, originality is not something you want to put on your surgeon’s CV.

Therefore I settled on what I already knew. Since this writing is intended for my eyes only, I didn’t think much about how I gravitated to writing about real people. Jimmy was my muse as always, but to change the story I had to go back to the beginning. The beginning was now. What conflict could I add to my current life to make Jimmy go through a three act structure or similar type series of story beats?

The inevitable answer in all of Bullworth was of course Gary Smith. It took some thinking to get over my previous revulsion to the “character”. I decided to make him more powerless, so that there was more of a struggle between the old enemies. The inspiration for that helplessness also came from reality. Gary Smith, too young for prison and judged in need of psychological care, was kept at Happy Volts at the edge of town. As far as I knew back then it was perfectly safe, yet perfectly out of reach.

I wrote this short confrontation as a test, as usual by my desk at evening time.

The Happy Volts Asylum yard is filled with equal parts inmates, equal parts orderlies. Gary Smith dutifully patrolls the gravel path. The duty in question is the insistent idea of fresh air and moderate exercise, all to improve his mental health. He doesn’t feel like it helps at all. No matter how much he walks, he still feels stuck like an animal in a cage.

Birds in cages, dogs in yards, surely they look out on their free brethren and consider the differences. In captivity they are ensured food and safety, but what is the cost? Freedom? Gary doesn’t fashion himself neither a dog nor a budgie. He fancies himself a tiger at a zoo. Too dangerous to be let loose, too valuable to be put down, with no equal outside his cage to identify with. Only gawking aliens looking in. 

Except the zoo of Happy Volts doesn’t have many visitors outside of its fenced area. Visiting hours are a formality for a lucky few of the inmates with next of kin who care. Still, Gary keeps throwing glances to the rocky nature outside the neat garden, hooked on the gnawing paranoia that anyone from his former life would appear to view the trapped monster they made him out to be.

As much as his therapist might suggest it, he is not hoping to see Jimmy Hopkins spying at him from the rocks. Naturally, that is the visitor that he gets this day of all days.

Jimmy has snuck here out of boredom. Out of curiosity, perhaps, but mostly because he has nothing better to do. One trip too many around the bike path around campus, and he just finds himself rolling down the secret tunnels to the backside of Happy Volts. When he is already there it would be rude to not at least try to get a Gary sighting in.

Across the fence, among the rocks, both boys make eye contact. Gary stops in his tracks, quitting his pacing on the spot. For a moment both of them stare at each other like estranged cats. Then Jimmy breaks the tension by raising his middle finger in the rudest of greetings.

Gary can’t help but smirk. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, it makes him happy.

The orderly in charge of Gary’s walking area sidles up and prods the patient in the shoulder.

“You okay, Mr Smith?” he asks, concerned that the boy stopped walking.

“Yes.” Gary answers, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. “I am thinking . Please do not disturb me.”

“Suit yourself.”

As soon as the orderly walks off, Gary stares at Jimmy’s hiding place once more. His attention span is rewarded by two middle fingers up in the air. The handsome Jimmy is respectfully only peeking his head and hands out over the rock, to make sure he isn’t spotted. He wants to spare Gary getting in trouble, somehow.

But like asteroids stuck in each other’s gravitational pull, neither of them knows how to leave. Gary stands still, completely transfixed by his informal visitor. As far as temperance goes Jimmy is the first to cave in. Expertly, no guard looking his way, he sneaks closer to the chain link fence.

If Gary is a tiger, perhaps the crowned king of Bullworth is a lion. There is an animalistic grace to Jimmy’s stocky body moving so silently and unseen to anybody but him. This is the only equal Gary can look out on and feel genuine envy of. He wants his freedom back. This intense emotion pulls at his troubled mind and all of his therapist’s stupid ideas come tumbling down.

Soon after Jimmy’s hand touches the fence, Gary trusts that judgement and steps off the beaten path he had been walking. If no orderly can see Jimmy right now, no orderly ought to notice Gary skulking off in the grass.

Stopping one and a half metres away from the fence, Gary wastes no time with greetings.

“Me and my therapist talk about you.” he says.

“Well shit… But okay. What do you want me to do about it?”

“Not a damn thing. You’ve done enough, Hopkins.” Gary replies, scrunching up his nose in snide disdain. “You put me in here, where I’m forced to listen to that shrink shove the most blasé freudian takes down my throat. But you don’t know what that means, do you?”

Jimmy has been frowning, but now he cracks a smile. “Of course not, genius.”

“Yeah, you’re too stupid.”

“Whatever you say.”

Thanks to the impenetrable wall between them, or perhaps due to the pathetic situation Gary is already in, Jimmy just nods along. The same courtesy that makes him sneak as to not bust them both is the source to why he doesn’t want to fight right now. Instead he finds himself at peace with just talking in hushed voices. They are both so near, yet so far away.

Gary can’t stand it. He starts frantically tapping a foot in the grass.

“My therapist thinks I didn’t get enough attention as a child. He thinks I ‘act out’ because I just want to get noticed. It’s a load of bullcrap.” His eyes were unfocusing ever so slightly. “But it’s entertaining to imagine my grande schemes as nothing but ‘play’. Like, you know, I only burnt down the gym, took over the school and fell through a skylight because I wanted someone to play with like a little kid.”

“Oh yeah, that is total bullcrap.” Jimmy agrees. “You were in for the kill. You wanted me to die, Gary. Dead serious.”

Validation. Mutual understanding. Tiger to lion, they were different but similar enough to feel the same. Gary snaps out of his dissociation, focusing fully on Jimmy. Quicker than any of the few foes Jimmy fights nowadays, he pounces forwards. Jimmy’s absentminded touch on the fence is captured by Gary’s skinny fingers. They clamp and keep his hand there hard enough to hurt.

“You get me! You, out of all people, actually take me seriously!” Gary lauds. He ignores Jimmy’s struggling. In fact, he likes it better to see Jimmy in such animated pain. His cold grip around the warm pudgy fingers clamps. “I hate you, Jimmy Hopkins, with all my heart. But you know what my therapist says? You wanna know?”

Jimmy can’t look at Gary, much too scared of the orderlies inside of the fence. Gary’s sudden burst of movement was obvious, and several eyes have turned their way. To make matters worse, Gary is no longer speaking silently.

“Fuck!” Jimmy snaps back. “Tell me if it’s so important, just let me go!”

“He says I might love you Jimmy, because you play with me on my level.”

Now their eyes meet. Wide eyed wonder. Gary because he finally had the chance to say it. Jimmy because he never imagined hearing it. If the medical professional is right to substitute one emotional verb with the other, where does that leave them? Gary loves Jimmy, with all his heart.

Gary breaks the precious moment by laughing his evil, manic laugh.

“It’s such utter freaking bullshit , right?!”

In the nick of time Jimmy’s sweaty hand slips free from Gary’s. Two orderlies apprehend Gary from behind, prying him off the fence. One points and shouts at Jimmy, alerting more security to catch the unbidden guest. 

Haunted by Gary’s laughter Jimmy takes his bike and races into Bullworth town. No way in hell that he will let them find the tunnel now. Especially not when he has found a reason to return. One short conversation with Gary Smith and he already has a hundred more questions he wants answers to.

During the writing process for this piece I did feel that similar pull to keep writing just like my first piece with the car. With Galloway’s advice in mind I figured it was because of the conflict that I enjoyed exploring the hypothetical scenario. My imagination of the asylum fence did not give me the sexual gratification that the previous did, but it was not my prerogative to seek it. The writing process for me feels more like writing to find out what happens rather than writing to make something particular happen.

On the other hand, after writing this first part I couldn’t easily find an opening to continue the story. The orderlies should by all means keep Gary away from the fence now, so there was no feasible way for a similar scenario to happen… Or so I thought.

It just so happens that I share chemistry class with Lola. When Dr. Watts announced a group project I had the misfortune of being the odd nerd out, so I paired up with her. I’d rather tutor a fellow woman in STEM than spend time around bubbling chemicals with a man I don’t trust. A lab is not a place to risk chemical injury, or worse, a grade below A+.

I view Lola as a charity project. She is clearly uninterested in graduating, and seems to treat Bullworth Academy as a cruise through one chapter of her life to the next. If I could decide her life for her I’d just tune up her enthusiasm a smidge so that she can at least get passing grades before she marries Johnny Vincent and drives into heaven like the finale of Grease. Then she can have her high school diploma before becoming a beauty school dropout.

Lola views me as a charity project. I know this because she’s very vocal about how ‘cute’ it is that I put so much effort into this ‘dump’ of an education, and that I ought to ‘be more adventurous’. If she could decide my life for herself I’m certain she’d dress me like a copy of herself and use me as set dressing whenever she goes about town. Then I’d get the sloppy seconds of every boyfriend she ever leaves behind when Johnny ‘gets his shit together’ as she calls it.

I’m not about to criticise her chemistry with the love of her life, even if I am the group project member that does the brunt of our chemistry work. Lola is also among the ones who regularly kisses Jimmy. That makes us equals in our tastes in men, at least where our venn diagrams connect at the Hopkins zone.

“But you’ve really got to get a boyfriend, like what have you got to lose?” she asked, leaning on the desk so that the group behind us couldn't ignore her ass.

“Precious time I’d rather spend studying.” I replied, admittedly a bit distracted myself.

“Well that, and your virginity I suppose.”

My glass pipette rattled against the beaker as that comment physically shook me. Lola just giggled and slipped off her safety glasses to raise her eyebrows at me unobstructed. I still can’t believe the nerve that tramp has sometimes.

“Geez! Use protection!” I hissed so that Dr. Watts wouldn’t notice her rule breaking.

“I always do, hun.” she mused with a lewd smile, but luckily my burning gaze of judgement made her realise what I actually meant. The second I had her complying I turned that evil eye on the group behind us looking at her just as lewdly. This scared them back to focus on their chemistry too. Lola hadn’t even cared to notice them. “But Beatrice, boys are fun, you know? Wouldn’t you like to take at least Hopkins for a spin?”

“I do not owe you any such information.” I duly informed her. “Besides, you ought to focus such attention on Johnny Vincent. I hear you’re currently together.”

“Right you are~” she cooed. With a dreamy look in her eye she stroked the rim of an empty beaker I had left for her to play with. “He’s so handsome, my precious little psycho.”

My eyebrow twitched. “Even if that is a pet name you both have agreed upon it sounds very inconsiderate to the actual mentally unwell.”

“Oh, why bother? Johnny did have a go in Happy Volts last year, before Jimmy broke him out.”

This was the conversation hook that would prove to inspire my next entry. As chaotic as the year of Jimmy Hopkins versus Gary Smith had been, few students around campus know all the details of what went down. I’ve been asking around to get the full picture of how my friends played our parts, but this greaser centric story had completely evaded me.

“Jimmy did?” I sneakily turned down the burner to make the experiment last longer. “How did he do that?”

“It was quite clever, but like, obvious as to how bad the security is in that place.” Lola mused in fond remembrance. “He just climbed a tree with a branch overhanging the fence, stole an orderly uniform with a mask from the laundry room, and then he could walk about as if he owned the place. Took a couple of keys and everything. That way he bust Johnny out real easy, running right out the front gates.”

I nodded, internally screaming in excitement at the potential plot this could provide. If real Jimmy could get in and out, fake him and fake Gary could talk so much more than through the fence. Already the thoughts of nightly escapades formed in my head.

“I’ve heard there’s a tree out too.” Lola said, just to fill the silence. “You can climb out just like you climb in, but the poor psychos can’t use it to escape because the orderlies watch it like hawks whenever they’re on recess or whatever they call it.”

“Who told you that?” I asked, equal parts curious, equal parts doubtful.

“One of my other boyfriends who’s been admitted. Maybe I have a type?”

I chose to just smile and nod at her devilish grin. Each woman may choose her own life, but in this context I wonder if she wouldn’t fit in at Happy Volts too. Birds of a feather flock together and all that.

The only birds circling my head were fake Jimmy and Gary. They were already vultures of my psyche, eager to feast on any free time I found in my busy studying schedule. If only real life Jimmy (and not Gary) did the same I would actually have a boyfriend like Lola suggests.

Chapter Text

My fear of Gary Smith’s psyche is wholly warranted, and I stand by that to this day. I can’t begin to imagine the how, but he has time and time again proven exactly what he is capable of. That is why I only concerned myself with what instead of blathering on about how it came to be. My goal was to give fake Jimmy a reason to sneak in to Happy Volts, and for the same reason to leave Gary in a subdued state.

I wrote this intermittently during a couple of lessons in subjects I was already ahead in, and finished it the afternoon I ought to have spent studying.

The aftermath of the asylum wide riot has the entire institution feeling tense. Broken furniture, smashed windows, upturned plants and mysterious stains are all around. Small paths have been paved through the destruction for the increased security to walk through. Clean up will begin tomorrow. Tonight is the night of mandatory rest for the insurgents.

Jimmy sneaks through the dim corridors with unease turning his stomach. He has already been spotted one time, but the newly stationed security guard doesn’t know the orderlies by neither name nor number. Jimmy is able to pass him with a curt nod, as if he belongs there.

Naturally the eye of the storm is the least smashed up. A neat perimeter around Gary Smith’s cell is practically clean compared to the rest. From the first word that Jimmy heard about the riot he just knew that Gary was responsible. It reminded him too much of the mayhem that he had dealt with at Bullworth.

But Jimmy hesitates out of sight from the unbroken glass window into Gary’s cell. Last time they spoke by the fence Gary had more or less claimed to love Jimmy. It didn’t add up. Few of Jimmy’s maths exercises ever added up, but this one he had actually tried to calculate. He doesn’t have any problem with the homosexual aspect of it. He only has the problem that Gary was Gary. To make matters worse, Gary obviously doesn’t believe in love.

In contrast Jimmy believes in love by force. Thanks to the sheer physicality that it makes him feel he has become a slave to it. Each and every one of his girl and boy friends about campus make him feel some kind of love. He loves the way they make his heart flutter. He loves making them smile, giving them gifts, smashing mouths together, whenever, wherever. It makes sense to him.

Loving Gary Smith does not. At least not yet. So beyond the riot, he is here to investigate if Gary can make him feel anything akin to what he knows is “love”. 

The first hint he gets is the way his heart clenches the moment he peeks into the cell. Something is wrong, and it makes him feel cold. Gary is sitting on his bed, staring at nothing, with his mouth ajar and dribbling spit. Bruises on his arms as well as pin prick scars allude to him being forcibly medicated. Of course leading a riot doesn’t let you get off scot free, even if you’re Gary Smith.

Jimmy makes another lap around the cell block to confirm that nobody sees him. Then he silently slots the stolen key into the keyhole, unlocks the cell, and he’s in. The air in there smells clammy. It’s clean enough. The only stain is on Gary’s hospital gown where his spit drops. Gary hasn’t even reacted to Jimmy entering, and that’s more unnerving than anything the man could have said.

“Hey,” Jimmy whispers, again to no reaction. Hand on Gary’s shoulder, still nothing, Jimmy can’t help his noble heart and uses the fabric of his own orderly uniform to dry off Gary’s chin. This motion closes Gary’s mouth, and he seems to readjust his tongue to spread saliva to the dried up parts in there. It’s something, and that's enough to give Jimmy the slightest bit of relief. “They really got you good, didn’t they? Fuck, I know it’s all your fault, but this is too much…”

The dampness of Gary's spit is cold against Jimmy's skin. All things considered, it could feel more gross. At a loss Jimmy looks around the cell and finds absolutely nothing of use. There isn't even a desk. Just the wire frame bed and the prison-style toilet bolted to the wall and floor. In fact, the toilet is the only source of water available.

In spite of authority Jimmy sneaks out to find better water. His admirable morality has stoutly decided that Gary's been punished enough. Considering who Gary is, Jimmy figures that being forced into this vegetative state is Gary's worst nightmare. 

It's risky business, but Jimmy swipes two bottles of water from the staff break room. It's all thanks to the fact that it's in the middle of the night that nobody is there to question him. He takes extra care to not be spotted on his way back. Not until he has closed Gary's door behind him does he let himself breathe out.

Gary has begun to blink more frequently, but he is still completely out of it. Jimmy tries to put the water bottle in his hand. That barely registers, so there's no way Gary can drink on his own. Forgetting to put one thing down before picking up the next, Jimmy holds the bottle around Gary's hand when he administers it himself.

If Gary was mentally here he would have made a dick joke about the bottle against his lips. Jimmy feels that thought so true that he can virtually hear Gary's voice in his head. The lips in question are chapped. Drugged out of normality, Gary drinks his first gulp in a clumsy greed. Jimmy feels the hand under his twitch. Before he can stop it Gary squeezes the bottle so hard that it overflows and splashes his face.

"Shit!" Jimmy hisses, nearly forgetting to keep his voice down. Still, this view makes him grin from ear to ear. It is so stupid. To see Gary nurse from that crinkly bottle like a calf, and making a mess that is otherwise beneath him.

Is this hot? The thought was definitely a question. Should he picture his dick in place of the bottle, like, erotically instead of as a joke? Jimmy has time to wonder, but not enough to decide on an answer.

Gary's eyes are beginning to properly focus. He is not out of the haze, far from it. But when he properly recognises Jimmy in the haze his jaw falls open. The rest of the water bottle unceremoniously runs down his chin and chest.

Jimmy decides it's not hot, it's fucking hilarious. High people are objectively funny in his eyes.

"Hello? Planet to Gary Smith?" He says, holding back giggles.

"Jim… y?" Gary struggles to pronounce even two syllables.

"Come on, let's try again" Jimmy shows the second bottle. "You spilled more than half of that one, you idiot."

Bewildered and intoxicated, Gary is watered once more. His immense thirst is the saving grace that helps him actually gulp it down. Jimmy's lack of medical training is the variable that hinders a perfect score. Together they only waste twenty five percent of the bottle. This final result leaves the front of Gary's hospital gown absolutely soaked. Jimmy considers the superstition that water attracts viruses such as the common cold. To be fair it would be bad if Gary got sick, because within the myth it would be Jimmy's fault.

And he definitely doesn't consider this risk as an excuse to try stripping Gary while he can. 

"Hey arms up." Saying it out loud only narrates how Jimmy handles Gary's arms for him. Gary wastes his first lucid motion to try to strangle Jimmy. It is a lame and pathetic attempt. At first Jimmy removes the grabby hands, but soon he realises they pose no threat whatsoever. It might even be cute? Maybe? He smirks, going in for that hug that men do when they're about to wrestle. "Let's get you out of this wet rag."

Gary's delayed reaction gives him a disadvantage. He's half out of the gown when he starts resisting. To make up for it he goes all out: Frantic motion, incoherent shouts, kicks at Jimmy and grappling the clothes as best he can.

"Rapist!" Gary manages to enunciate, complete with the familiar rage-filled growl at the back of his throat.

"I'm not gonna do anything!" Jimmy hisses back. It's not weird for an asylum patient to scream and shout. It's the second voice that needs to be kept down. "Calm down psycho, I'm trying to help you!"

Their actual wrestling about the hospital gown pulls Gary off the bed. He's not capable of standing, so he settles in his shirtless loss sitting on the floor. Jimmy tosses the gown away just like he would his own towel after a shower. It lands in a heap not too far away in the small cell. But Gary has given up. He does not crawl to retrieve it. He seems to be dissociating again.

But surprisingly and unsurprisingly, Jimmy has never seen his enemy shirtless before. They never had any gym classes together. Gary didn't ever change in front of anyone. Was it due to his paranoia? Insecurity? Or just his need for control? Jimmy can't guess, but he hopes it's not for fear of being ugly. Gary just looks like a guy. A skinny, gaunt guy who could use better feed than hospital food. There's nothing erotic about the mental patient just sitting there.

But something shifts when Gary shivers. The clammy air is cold to him. When he pulls his shoulders up and hugs himself there’s an inadvertent shyness that warps Gary's body into even more of a vulnerable pose. A silent scream for help.

Jimmy’s heart swells. This covetous need to protect Gary is completely new. Thanks to the naked skin or the mind numbing drugs, this is probably the first time he has ever seen Gary with his guard down. The naked little hermit crab it reveals needs a home. A hard shell of a home. Jimmy instinctively knows he can become just that. Is that love?

Whatever it is, it's not sexual. Jimmy knows better than anything in this world that he would never take advantage of Gary like this. He takes the blanket off of the bed and drapes it around Gary for both warmth and modesty. Gary shivers into it, and it seems to stir him out of his foggy labyrinth. He recognises Jimmy a second time, and acts as if it was the first.

“Jimmy?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I snuck in to check up on you.” he replies, throat somewhat thick. He corrects and pulls the blanket tighter around Gary. It proves useless, because Gary shakily reaches up for Jimmy, shrugging the blanket off were it not for Jimmy holding it closed. Gary’s hands go for Jimmy’s throat again. It makes him snort. “Really man? Do you have to strangle me the first thing you do-”

But Gary’s grip isn’t a stranglehold. His hands hook around Jimmy’s neck to pull him close. Gary presses his forehead against Jimmy’s, and truly presses, presses so hard that it hurts. It is as if Gary wishes to retreat from this cruel world into the thick cranium of Jimmy Hopkins. As if that’s where his paradise lies.

“Jimmy.” Gary sobs.

“Fuck.”

Hopkins doesn’t mind the pain. He lets Gary do whatever he wants, because he doesn’t understand it. Jimmy carefully untangles his grip on the blanket, to hold it in place in a hug instead. They’re both kneeling on the floor in this embrace. Outside of the small cell window shines the moon. Gary doesn’t sob again, but he shakes and shivers in Jimmy’s arms in the very same pathetic vulnerability that Jimmy just discovered. Out of ideas, because he didn’t have many to begin with, Jimmy pats Gary’s back in slow long strokes.

They stay like that until Jimmy starts to feel stiff and sore in his legs. Gary is dissociated again, and doesn’t protest when Jimmy disengages from the odd forehead press. Jimmy usually picks up men taller than him in fights, so he doesn’t have too much trouble scooping Gary back into bed. The springs creak, the loose cocoon of a teenager sinking into a shallow hole of his own. Gary blinks, most likely recognising where he is.

Right as Jimmy considers leaving, Gary catches a fistful of the uniform’s pants and clenches it hard. It’s clear enough without words. Jimmy sits down in the bed as well, even going as far as to prop Gary’s head up on his lap.

“Will you even remember this?” he wonders wistfully. Taking the little liberty he can, Jimmy traces the scar on Gary’s eyebrow. It’s smooth. All of Gary’s relaxed face feels smooth, he realises, as his fingertips just play over the other boy. It’s not love. Probably.

Jimmy leaves the asylum at dawn, long after Gary has fallen asleep.

It was so cute. I couldn’t take it, it was so cute! When I read through this piece in its entirety the first time it felt like my heart would burst. To think that Jimmy would struggle to recognise love, when it otherwise comes so naturally to him. Something about the immense emotional baggage between these two boys must have altered my brain chemistry.

On the flip side, my trance of inspiration that I enter while writing about them had its downsides. It made me forget myself, my body, and how I fiddle with my left hand while my right hand writes. I hate this bad habit of mine, truly, since it prolongs my healing process so much, but what I did often while writing was pick at my cold sore scabs. It’s oh so satisfying to pull them off, but oh so humiliating to deal with the consequences. From feeling generally gross and infected, to the point where Jimmy avoids kissing me, it’s just… Awful!

I’m not alone in thinking this, I would soon find out. A good day, where everything had gone my way, I had only studied, read my latest piece once for leisure, and kept my scab untouched all day… It didn’t end as a good day. Mandy made sure to change all of that.

She came back early from cheer practice, like a full twenty minutes earlier, and immediately interrupted my peace and quiet with a stab at my insecurity:

“Beatrice, have you ever seen a doctor about your herpes? ”

She might as well have shot me with a gun. I froze, and awkwardly fumbled up my feeble defence, desperately trying to downplay my chronic health issue thanks to the shallow yet extensive research I had done on the subject:

“You mean my herpes simplex? It is a relatively tame viral infection that hardly ever warrants medical attention. It actually goes away if you just leave it alone, and it’s only truly contagious when there is an open wound around the mouth area for the infection to fester.”

Mandy glared. “You done?”

“… Yes.”

“So your answer is no, because you always just like, wait for it to go away?”

“Uhm, actually, that is the general practitioner's medical advice in most cases across the whole country!” I raised my voice and stood up in protest. “It’s commonly known as a cold sore, so please refer to it as such!”

Our dorm room is supposed to be big enough for two girls throughout all of their years at Bullworth. Between me and Mandy, there’s no peace when we’re both inside. It feels cramped, stiff, eternally frustrating. During this fight I was by my desk, near the window. Mandy still stood right by the door. We were as far away as we could from each other, but it was not far enough. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and I could just feel how much she absolutely hated me.

“It’s herpes.” She shut up my protest by raising a single finger. It’s embarrassing how much control she could have over me. She went on: “I’m going to tell you something sensitive now, little miss doctor, so you’d better not spread it to anyone else or I will make your life more miserable than it already is. You got it?”

I nodded meekly.

“You know the Sundays when you have the room to yourself from about nine to two o’clock? Well, I don’t hang out with Ted or my girlfriends, I go to to the doctor, to try and get a hold of my fucking eating disorder. You know what I’ve learned? That eating disorders can be a symptom of stress. So like, to help myself heal I’m trying to eliminate sources of stress from my life.”

She took a step closer, disgust blatant in her expression, and now it was only the breadth of my bed between us.

“And oh my god, it’s stressing me the hell out to live with a freak dork roommate like you with constant herpes that I know you pick and scratch at all the time! You put your fingers in those filthy wounds, and then you touch whatever in this room! Don’t you think I’m scared of catching a god damned STD from just being near you?”

My voice screamed, but my eyes couldn’t face her. “It’s not always an STD! People can be born with this virus! Nearly half of all Americans have it!”

“Well I don’t want it!” she screamed back. “My days as beauty queen of Bullworth would be over! Who do you think would take my place? Fucking punk ass Zoe Taylor? Pinky Mc.Incest Gauthier? Eunice??”

I shook my head, trembling from her verbal assault. I had done nothing to deserve this.

“One thing I know for certain.” she continued, lowering her voice to a proper threat. “Is that it would never be you. You’re carrying the teenage plague. You’re disgusting, Beatrice.”

She made me cry. There was no other defence to raise. Nobody can tear you down as roughly as a real bully, and Jocks are the worst of them all. Mandy stood there as I started sobbing, rolling her eyes and groaning in irritation at my feelings. She snatched the tissue box from my nightstand and tossed it closer to me.

“As if you don’t already think that yourself.” she muttered.

“Maybe I do?” I whined. “That makes it hurt more, stupid.”

“Oh, so you’re self aware? Great, come on, blow your nose, I had a point with all this.”

I took my sweet time, but I did do exactly as she told me. When I actually looked up, I noticed that now that her bullying session had waned, Mandy looked super uncomfortable for once. Hopefully this was when she realised she had gone too far. I made no attempt to hide the hurt I felt, because I wanted her to feel just as bad.

“As I said, on some Sundays I go to the doctor. The clinic I go to? Yeah, there’s a dermatologist working there, and he has a lot of free time on Sundays…” She glared at me, noticing how I shrank back. “You should come with me this weekend, and get some real prescription drugs.”

“... Where is it?” I asked shyly.

“The next town over. Mrs. Carvin drives me there.” Mandy rolled her eyes impatiently. 

But this I did believe. I knew the librarian’s schedule better than any other, and she did take leave from the library on Sundays sometimes. How had I not realised they coincided with Mandy leaving? Maybe because, those were the times when me and my friends both ruled and guarded that sacred realm in Mrs. Carvin’s stead. But the next town… That was a two hour drive from Bullworth’s little bay.

In truth I didn’t want to go. I hate dermatologists. They’re the worst kind of doctor to become in my eyes. When I scratched myself so regularly and so badly it counted as self harm in middle school due to bullying (honestly why else?) my parents took me to a dermatologist. It was the most traumatic doctor’s visit in my entire life.

The room was so chilly, and I had to strip down to my underwear. At the time I had just gotten my first bra. The doctor kept readjusting my panties to sit further down on my hips, all so that he could see the scars on my lower abdomen. I hated his warm touch. I felt so exposed, and even if my mom was with me, I felt entirely alone.

So that’s why I hate dermatologists! Not that I could tell Mandy that! I just stood there, ruminating on my tween trauma while her patience ran out.

She bit her lip, eyes slimmed. “I already told her you’re coming.”

“What?”

“Mrs. Carvin. She got excited to have you with us. So toughen up, Beatrice, you’re going.”

“But I don’t want to!” I blurted out in a minor panic.

“Oh my god- Trudeau! For being so smart and into medical shit you’re so fucking stupid!” she said with a diva’s groan. “There are enough idiots at this school. Have you ever considered how you’re a danger to Jimmy? What if you give him herpes? That will spread like a wildfire, ruin his life, and you know it!”

“But Jimmy is hardly ever sick…”

“Yeah, whatever, we can’t count on his immune system beating up your STD cooties like he beats up your friends.”

I got bitter, and managed to mumble half a burn. “He beats up your friends too.”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m being respectful.” she had the audacity to claim.

“How?” I bit back.

“Well, all throughout this fight about your STD I haven’t asked once if it has spread to your pussy, have I?”

I blushed in indignation, taking colour in less than five seconds. “It has NOT !”

“Sure, whatever, I’ll take your word for it.” Mandy scoffed, glaring at me more. “But if it ever does, no guy will ever want to eat you out.”

This obscenity sent me into my second freeze. Mandy must have gotten tired of me, because she stormed out the room.

“We’re leaving at 8:45 on Sunday.” was the last thing she said before she slammed the door loud enough for me to hear the muffled disdain of Mrs. Peabody scolding her on her way out.

I had a minor mental breakdown on my own in that room we were supposed to share. For the rest of the night I didn’t manage to either study or write, or even read! It sent me so far down that I tried scratching again. Luckily I managed to snap out of it by biting my fingers to keep them away from my belly. Replacement behaviours are according to modern psychology efficient for both humans and dogs…

But what tormented me the most was how we had left our discussion at the topic of cunnilingus. I felt as if I did exactly what she wanted because oral sex meant that much to me. Well, part of me intensely longs for it, while another part finds it secondary to losing my virginity. Her made up scenario, which she vaguely suggested but which I filled in the blanks with, did scare me to the core. What if Jimmy goes down on me, only to halt and dodge just like he dodges my kisses?

That would kill me more than any dermatologist in the entire world.

Chapter Text

To say that the week leading up to the doctor’s visit was tense would be polite. The more truthful Bullworthian way was that it was pins and needles, screaming classmates, nobody cares about you, you’re all alone in a crazy world.

Mount Stupid was definitely the “anti-feud” going on between the Greasers and the Preppies. I truly tried to respect the whole debacle since Jimmy was part in organising it all, but after living through the unrest and chaos it caused I beg to differ. According to the rumour the two cliques were on the verge of reverting back to pre-Jimmy levels of pranking, fighting and damn near killing each other. In order to quell this, they instead did the opposite: so called Honest Competitions.

Most of the challenges I never understood. The key to them all was that they were “friendly” and “non-violent” in order to fulfil the anti- part of the feud. Boys would rush past like stampedes across campus, no matter if it was during classes or not, once even rushing through a Geography class and out the windows. Pointless games were played for all to see, always with Jimmy present as a judge, and he apparently kept the scores in his head because in there they can’t be stolen. That was probably the height of arithmetic he did that week, because I didn’t see him in any classes himself.

I didn’t choose to, but I did attend the Chess Duel between Tad and Peanut. Them and their respective crowds made the library sound like the boxing arena for a tense hour or two, and as much as I should have left to study somewhere else I got swept up in the spectacle. Me and my friends were shoved there in the middle as a jury, somehow needing to debate what moves were and weren’t legal in chess. Tad knew the rules vaguely, but Peanut was probably trying to invent a new exciting chess variant ready to hit board game shelves this christmas.

The most talked about duel was definitely the Hug Challenge between the leaders. Derby and Johnny Vincent (is it weird I’m on a first-plus-last-name basis with him? I don’t know) both sat right at the football field and hugged for hours on end. It was a long game of intimate chicken, where the first to pull away would lose. After much too long Johnny Vincent won by lulling Derby to near sleep, only to shove his tongue as far as he could down Derby’s ear. Some claim they heard Derby scream all the way to the library.

In truth I am probably writing about these more pleasant memories because I had such an awful time with Mandy all week. Just seeing her made me nervous about the dermatologist, so I shut up. She didn’t speak to me at all, which I now in hindsight probably was because she actually felt bad about being mean to me. In the day to day of that week I thought she just loathed me.

I initiated a single conversation. I asked what would happen if my parents didn’t want to pay for the clinic and medication. She brushed it off by saying she would pay, since my improved health would improve hers. After that I prolonged calling my parents for as long as possible. I called Saturday evening, hoping that they would forbid me to go on such short notice. To my deepest despair they were totally okay with it. They wired the money immediately.

The morning I expected to meet my doom I went about life with an uncanny certainty. I had the longest, most thorough shower possible, making sure every bit of my body was as un-embarrassing as possible. If I had to be touched by a dermatologist I figured in the best case scenario he would not tell me I smelled or that my hair was greasy.

Me and Mandy entered Mrs. Carvin’s car by the school gates, an eerie lack of students to witness us leave. It sounds like a ghost story, but in reality they were all watching Hal VS Bif eating breakfast rolls in the cafeteria.

The car ride was a ride and a half. I had expected Mrs. Carvin’s car to be quiet like a library. Instead I was quite overstimulated by the loud engine, her turning up the radio to drown it out, and despite those two factors still insisted on speaking to me. Mandy just sat and listened to us both, having obviously run out of topics to enjoy with the librarian many round trips ago. Mrs. Carvin chattered about everything, and gossiped in a way which I can only assume is uncouth on school grounds.

Apparently she found this extra duty of chauffeuring students a bore. These matters ought to be done by the school nurse, but Mrs. McRae was explicitly forbidden by the school board to ever leave campus . Physical violence was deemed that much of a problem at our school, apparently. So where does that leave the rest? Mrs. Peabody has such bad eyesight that she doesn’t have a licence, and these matters are much too delicate to ask one of the male faculty, or worse, and I quote “the horror, Mrs. Philips?” I didn’t think Mrs. Philips sounded too bad, but apparently when she had held the duty for a while there had been a dramatic uptick of boy students wanting to go to the big doctors, to the point where they exceeded the seats of a minivan. Due to that, she was completely out of the question.

Mrs. Carvin did however get more chirpy and happy when she started detailing how many antiquaries she could visit in the supposed free time when “Ms. Wiles” had her appointments. It made sense that a chauffeur didn’t have the same duties as a chaperone, but it still made me even more nervous to know me and Mandy would enter the clinic alone. It’s hard being a teenager. I was perfectly capable in theory to do this on my own. I was more truthfully wishing that my mom could be with me.

The librarian dropped us off before speeding away for her bookstore speedrun. Me and Mandy stood next to each other on the pavement. She seemed to be waiting for me to take the first step. Did she care about me? I nervously corrected my bra strap under my shirt, trying to calm myself by knowing that my panties matched. When would I ever be ready?

“Beatrice?”

“Whu- what?”

“It’s fine .”

For one brilliant moment I believed her. She spoke with the charisma of a natural born leader, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I believed her. Then she ruined it all by walking ahead.

“I’m going to pay for you, okay?”

“No! You don’t have to!” I hurried after her, desperate to clear up the miscommunication. “My parents already sent me the money, you don’t have to!”

Maybe it was all a trick to fool me into walking through the doors. The reception was pleasantly empty, as expected of an establishment you had to pay to make use of. Mandy checked in and paid for her session, and immediately after I got processed as well. She didn’t bother sitting down in the waiting room, just marching away from me to what I suppose was her therapist or doctor’s office. I stood left in her dust, fearing for my life.

“Ms. Trudeau?”

The dermatologist’s face reminded me of brie cheese. Pudgy, mild, and just… Kind. I walked into his office without even speaking, trying to prepare myself for what was to come. I stood in the middle of the room, about to unzip my skirt when he unexpectedly motioned for me to sit. It wasn’t even on the examining table. It was a chair facing his desk.

“Well…” He murmured, studying my wide eyed face. “Herpes simplex, of the stubborn variant I heard?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve had this problem for how long? Ms. Wiles said it has been since you were both freshmen.”

“No, it… It comes and goes. I’ve had no breakouts for nearly a month sometimes.”

He smirked, and started writing on something. “You seem to have lived with it for much too long. But don’t worry, you’ll be symptom free before you know it.”

I blinked. He appeared to already be writing my prescriptions. Just like that? Without viewing my entire half-naked body or putting a single hand on me? 

“Uhm… Don’t you have to examine me more?”

“Hmm? No, I don’t think so. You have quite a clear cut issue right there, and I have the solution. You don’t have any sores in other membranes of your body, do you?”

“No, just the mouth.”

“Very well then.” He tore off the prescription slip and slid it up to me over his desk. There was such a honeydew satisfaction in his sweet smile. “You should count yourself blessed to have such good friends.”

“Frie- Mandy?” I asked, my mouth dumbly ajar. “S-she forced me to come here! We’re not friends!”

He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “You sure? She seemed quite earnest when she described her shy friend and her health issues. I don’t see any other Bullworth girl turning up to this appointment, so that has to be you, doesn’t it?”

“Appointment? Is this an appointment?” A cold sweat was perspiring on my neck.

“What else would it be?”

“She told me you always have time on Sundays.”

He chuckled to himself. “I don’t. Now then, there’s a pharmacy right across the street. Why don’t you go and get your medication sorted, so that you’ll be ready when Ms. Wiles is done with her matters?”

I did exactly as the doctor prescribed. The money my parents sent was more than enough for both the visit and the various creams and antibiotics I had been given to quell the viral infection. The waiting room which I had quickly passed on my way in proved to be clean, warm, and even smelled a bit of pleasant cleaning detergent. All in all my visit had taken barely twenty minutes. Mandy’s would take an hour, she had mentioned.

In those spare forty minutes I brought out my physics notes. For the first time since the incident I felt calm enough to engage my creative side. My hope was to write something short and sweet in the little time I had. Therefore I didn’t bother setting up much of the setting, but went right into the heart of Happy Volts, in medias res .

The shaken soda can hisses a short exhale, pausing for a moment to catch its bearing, before Gary cracks open the tab properly. It's satisfying, the way he doesn't spill a single carbonated drop. Pleased with himself he raises a little wordless toast before gulping down the liquid sugar.

"Nice." Jimmy duly praises. They are both sitting on Gary's cold cell floor, Jimmy clad in regular outerwear and Gary draped in his blanket like a king's cape. It had been a bit of a shock to wake the mental patient up in the middle of the night. Luckily the fact that Jimmy had brought a backpack full of snacks had distracted them both enough to be civil. Jimmy thumbs his own can of Beam Cola. "Mine always fizz over, even if they're not shaken up."

"Well James," Gary says as haughty as it's possible to sound when holding back a burp. "Maybe you just don't have the fine motor skills needed beyond third grade?"

Jimmy scoffs, but he's smiling. "Watch it, or I'll prove you wrong with my slingshot."

"Nuh-uh, that's hand-eye-coordination, not fine motor skills." He took another sip, savouring the taste. "Now go ahead, try being careful for once. If you spill a single drop they will find it, and then they'll probably change the lock or something equally as frustrating for you."

There is obvious doubt as Jimmy considers the challenge.

"What's wrong, Jimmy-boy?" Gary gloats. "Don't think you can do it?"

"Why don't you do it, jackass?" The can is haphazardly thrown at Gary, who luckily manages to catch it. Jimmy tries to gloat back: "Since you're so good at it."

"Me? For free?"

Both of them crack up in a bit of laughter. Jimmy is already rummaging around his bag for bargaining chips, literally. He tosses the deflated potato chips the same way he tossed the cola.

"I'll give you the whole bag, okay?"

"Will you now?" Gary unfolds the crinkly plastic. It takes less space, sure, but the snacks inside are more or less pulverised without the excess air keeping them safe. Gary's hunger is blatant when he stuffs his face with the first handful. Through his chewing the mumbles: "Should have brought salt and vinegar, not sour cream."

"Huh. I knew you were a sociopath, but not that kind."

"Loads of people like salt and vinegar, Jimmy."

"I thought they were for freaks who liked the taste of pain."

Gary has a momentary start, but then a scheming smile spreads on his face. He picks up the properly shaken Beam Cola. Jimmy has time to fear, but it proves to be a false alarm. Gary expertly defuses and cracks the carbonated bomb. He then leans across the wide berth between them to personally hand it to Jimmy.

"You should try them again." He suggests, suggestively. "It's a mature taste, if you ask me. I think it would suit you, Mr. Masochist."

Jimmy rolls his eyes, gulping down on the drink.

"I know what that word means."

"Oh, you do? What a good boy, can you do a spin too?" Gary chomps down on the chips again, regarding Jimmy's expressions as an endless source of entertainment. "You know you are one, right?"

"Nope. I'm the S okay, a sadist!" Jimmy proudly claims with his arms crossed. "I don't know if you paid attention, but I'm the one bringing the pain around town, and I always win."

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that!" Gary mocks falsely. "If I were your therapist I wouldn't at all question the fact that all of these fights you supposedly 'win' are orchestrated time and time again as situations where you're bound to get hurt. Gee wiz, James, you don't think you seek this kind of stimulus for any kind of sexual release, do you?"

Like always with Gary, it was hard to tell where the line between joke and malicious intent was drawn. But in light of recent events, Jimmy has a third option: Interest, affection, this supposed twisted idea of… Love? As much as Jimmy claims to be a sadist, Gary outshines him in sadistic history tenfold. Are all of these jabbing jokes… Hoping to reveal Jimmy as a masochist? To mould him into the perfect match?

Well, no matter the sexual tension between them, it is much too early to make any sense of it. Jimmy shrugs, and rummages for the plastic bag at the bottom of his rucksack.

"Whatever Gary, you're not getting any chocolate."

"You brought chocolate?"

"Yeah, for you, but I guess it's all for me now." Jimmy pops one of the pralines in his mouth, exaggerating a moan at the taste. "Such a shame. You could use them to fatten you up."

Gary eats the chips with a bitter frown. It is obvious he desires the rich sweetness from the chocolates, so much better than the soda. He wants it especially to balance the salty chips. Not that he's ready to admit that longing, especially not when staring at Jimmy’s chewing mouth.

"What do you mean 'fatten me up'? Have you started a cannibal cult without telling me?"

"Nah, too much work." Jimmy smirks. With another praline in his mouth he motions to Gary's body. "I just saw what you looked like last time I was here."

"Last time-?" Gary freezes in an uncomfortable epiphany. Thus far they hadn't mentioned Jimmy's previous visit once, and Gary is still halfway convinced it was a drug addled hallucination. But this changes everything. He steels his nerves, chilling to his familiar yet terrifying persona. "You saw… Did you?"

Jimmy shrugs. Gary thinks he's so smooth, but it's obvious that he hardly remembers that night. If Jimmy went all the way to describe the way Gary acted while intoxicated he already knows Gary will be outraged and blame him for even being there. So he has decided to keep Gary's secrets from Gary himself.

"I'm not gonna tell you. Let's just say I figured out the food in here is worse than Edna's, and that you could use some more calories."

"Yet you steal them from me!" Gary lashes out, pointing at the bag of chocolates in Jimmy's lap. "Good god James, you'll make a perfect politician, unable to do the least bit of charity without lining your own pocket!"

"You could still get some." He holds up a single praline. "All you have to do is ask nicely."

Gary’s groan makes it sound like Jimmy asked him to run two laps around Bullworth in the pouring rain. He recovers quickly, intent on guilting Jimmy into submission.

"Oh, great, the charity continues, as long as I beg and wag my tail like a stupid dog! Is that what you want Jimmy? For me to dumb myself down to your level?"

"I don't know, why don't you try it?"

To his great surprise, Gary does just that. He sits forwards, hands on the floor like neatly placed paws. Gary is still half kneeling, and as far as he can tell there's no ass waggling beneath the blanket. But Gary's upturned face is contorted in fake begging like no other.

"Like this Jimmy? Is this what you want? Aaaaah, please feed me, aaaaah!"

Craziest of all, it works. Jimmy shoves the chocolate into doggy Gary's open mouth. It rewards him with a hard human bite.

"Owch!"

Jimmy's clenching his hurt fingers to his chest, all while Gary sits back like normal with a triumphant smile. He's obviously chewing and savouring the sweet taste in his mouth. For whatever reason, Jimmy's heart is racing.

"That's what you get." Gary concludes. "Now hand the rest over."

"Oh shut up, we can still share them." 

The bag is put in the middle between them. Both boys munch silently on the sweets. Gary cracks open a second Beam Cola for Jimmy without protest. Maybe both of them are reeling from the awkward “flirting” they both just did.

"Hey, aren't these the ones that come in heart shaped boxes?" Gary wonders after eating a range of flavours.

"Yeah." Jimmy nods. "I just think they taste the best."

"Is that why you keep handing them out to get sexual favours?" Mock gasp. "Should I be concerned?"

"It doesn't count when they're not in the box."

"So you say…"

"Gary, shut up! I'm not going to sneak in here with my bag stuffed full of fancy packaging. It's a waste of space. Can you guess how many boxes I've put in this plastic bag?"

"... Three?"

"Five! So count yourself lucky, be quiet, and eat."

"Oh Jimmy, were you hoping for five whole kisses?"

"I told you to shut

That's as far as I got before Mandy came back, and to be honest I didn't continue this scene ever again. The bickering is predictable, a bit repetitious, and I had gotten the pleasure I wanted out of imagining the scene.

Mandy loomed over me while I hurried to slot my notebook back into my admittedly overstuffed backpack. She noticed the bag of medicine.

“You got everything you need?” she asked, stiff, polite… Even uncertain.

“Yes! Uhm, th-” No, I couldn’t thank her. Not yet. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought. He didn’t examine me.”

“What?”

“I was afraid he would need to touch me more to ascertain a proper diagnosis.”

“Ugh, gross, whatever, let’s just get out of here.”

That was supposed to be the end of it. I could tell how Mandy reverted back to her stubborn silence, intent on riding back to Bullworth as quietly as she rode here. Then we would be begrudging roommates again, and we would never mention this day ever again. Mrs. Carvin picked us up at the clinic. We left, in the same cramped and claustrophobic manner, now made worse by an impressive amount of books purchased within one hour.

Halfway back to Bullworth, on the highway, I was trying to listen to Mrs. Carvin describe two plots by the same Victorian author. It was very difficult, as the names just blended together, she switched between them erratically, and the comparison just became an amorphous mush. All I gathered was that this Hardy fellow wrote a lot of tragedy, and tragedy would always strike again, and again, and again.

But that conversation ought to have been some act of divine divination. Mrs. Carvin stopped talking in the middle of a sentence, turning up the radio even more.

“... major unrest in Bullworth town centre. For the safety of your journey, avoid driving into Bullworth for the near future. More traffic updates will come as the situation progresses.”

The turn signal clicked, ticked like a clock. Mrs. Carvin drove off the highway, heading for a roadside diner. The traffic announcement ended, and the obnoxious pop-music radio hosts giggled in their studio.

“A riot? In that sleepy little town?”

“Eh, don’t blow it until you’ve been there. Bullworth is a charming little community. These things always happen where you least expect them.”

“For sure! Anyway, here’s…”

I don’t remember what pop-star or what song had the honour of being the soundtrack to this pivotal moment of my life. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think it matters.

Chapter Text

Mrs. Carvin stormed into that little diner very much like a Victorian book character. Hello, have pity, I am a school librarian, and these two charming young women are my students, please-please-please let me borrow your telephone! We’re from Bullworth Academy, have you heard the news?

Me and Mandy were reduced to pitiful props in Carvin’s sob story. Personally I think she overdid it, because the lady at the counter was happy to lend the phone out. It was a fairly predictable outcome, but at the time it felt unbelievable. Carvin called three times, and the Bullworth Academy reception didn’t pick up even once. She left a voicemail to beg once again that they would call back. With precious little information about what was actually going on in Bullworth, our librarian saw it fit to quarantine on the road until she knew it was safe to drive back. Melodramatic… Perhaps.

I’m very grateful that I still had money left from the doctor’s visit. The next direction our neurotic leader gave was that since we are already here, we might as well eat lunch. I fully expected to sit at the counter with Mrs. Carvin, patiently waiting for the phone to ring, but Mandy grabbed my arm.

“Can we sit in a booth?”

“What? Oh, please, you girls may, very well, please do, but I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind.”

I could tell in the way my bully was dragging me away from there that this was exactly what she had in mind when she asked to separate from adult supervision. We were in sight of Carvin whenever she turned her head, but we were definitely out of earshot. The vinyl seats of the diner booth felt sweaty against my thighs within the minute that Mandy and I sat down together. Years of bullying had me expecting the worst.

The silence between us was nothing but tension. I was under such stress that I could hardly read the menu. It felt as if my glasses themselves were malfunctioning! But in the grand scheme of things, that didn’t matter. When the diner lady shuffled up to us, Mandy did all of the talking.

“We both want a burger menu, and a strawberry milkshake each.”

“Very well.” mumbled the lady, scribbling on her pad.

“Uhm- Actually-!” I tried piping up, but Mandy shot me down with a glare.

“Oh, my bad. Beatrice wants vanilla.”

I have never felt as intimidated by anyone ordering me a sweet drink. The waitress confirmed our order, and then left us terribly alone.

“... Why did you do that?”

“Do you care?” Mandy scoffed. “It’s a normal meal, I just wanted us to have the same thing.”

I was so rude. I deeply regret saying this, but the next thing out of my mouth was this: “I thought you had an eating disorder.”

Mandy took a deep breath through her nose. I was certain she would uncross her arms, just to throw one of those clenched fists right into my teeth. But she only held herself tighter, settling for a monologue I had no power of stopping.

“I do, smartass. It’s bulimia. You’ve probably read all about it in your medical books as if it’s fiction, but I have it for real, and I’m trying really hard to get over it. Actually, I tried really hard to get it too! Do you know how hard it is to have an eating disorder that consists of bingeing and purging when you’re living at a boarding school where all toilets are public?! It was freaking hard to keep this secret! Especially for someone as popular as me! Sure, word did spread around that I made myself sick in the bathroom ‘again’, but nobody knew about how much I fucking ate or how hungry I was every single day! I kept that shit to myself, so yeah, thanks for seeing through me, I do have an eating disorder.”

“I’m sorry…” I squeaked. She might as well have hit me.

“Good! Because now that I’m on the road to recovery, I can’t keep this shit secret anymore. Everyone on the cheer squad is helping me.” Her anger fell into a stubborn type of gratitude. She wasn’t looking at me anymore, just burning her gaze into the table. “I need help. I need someone to hold me responsible and keep me from going to the bathroom for like an hour after every meal.”

“O-okay.”

“Also this place is triggering as fuck. I used to binge at the burger joint in the Vale. You don’t even want to know my order from back then.”

I nodded, but she didn’t see that. She was too enveloped in herself, all the while she was… The dictionary has no direct antonym for “envelop”, but I realised as I sat there she was doing the opposite. Mandy was opening up to me. What I could tell was that it wasn’t planned. If we hadn’t come in here, she would never, ever have told me.

“I’ll help you.” I said, as pathetically as always. But she heard, and our eyes met. “Uhm, whatever it is you need, I want to help you. I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

“It’s fine.” Mandy managed to smirk. “I mean, I know what I need. I ordered us both the same thing so that I could time my eating with yours. If I eat too fast I’ll feel like vomiting. Like, don’t think about it too hard, just eat like normal, and you’ll be doing me a solid.”

“Why the milkshake?”

“Huh?”

“If I were you I would have taken soda. Why go the extra mile for a milkshake?”

“Beatrice, I’m trying to face my fear foods and become normal. Milkshakes are like, super normal.” she sneered again. “Besides, you’re also a skinny bitch. You could use some fattening up too.”

I blushed, mostly because it made me think of my fake-Gary I had literally just written about. Mandy took this completely the wrong way. On the bright side she took it positively instead of getting angry at me.

“Oh my god, are you like, flattered?”

“I- uh- what?”

“Do you like it when you get called skinny?” she giggled. “I mean I do, but it’s kind of symptomatic?”

It was a pleasant surprise to hear her use such a word, but my mind was racing as I stammered pathetically in my defence. “I don’t think I have a disorder! I’ve just been like this ever since hitting puberty! Please, I mean, some people just look like this.”

“I know.” she sighed. “It’s so unfair.”

“But Mandy, you’re so pretty!” I blurted out. She batted her lashes around widened eyes at me, taking the surprise in a flirtatious stride. I gulped and just kept going. “You’ve got a perfect face, smooth skin, pretty hands, all sorts of good muscles from cheerleading and- uh…”

“I know.” she cooed, leaning on the table to be closer to me. “I’ve got great posture, rocking tits, and legs most people would die for. Do you like that too?”

“Like- Like that? Mandy, I’m not saying I like that or anything, I’m just saying that most everyone finds you gorgeous!” My blush was still on my face, but it felt more genuine now. “It’s not like you’re the most popular girl at school for no reason… People like you.”

There was just something about her. She looked at me, and it was like something inside of her shifted. I didn’t understand it back then, and I don’t fully understand it even now. All I knew when I was sitting there was that we were saved by the bell. The waitress came back with our orders, and a message from Mrs. Carvin who was practically glued to the radio.

“News still says there’s an ongoing riot in you guy’s town. She’s ain’t got a call yet, but you just enjoy your time and I’m sure you’ll all be fine.”

This shift in conversation topics was the true saviour. I started eating, hardly noticing how Mandy mimicked my pace in every bite.

“A riot… Huh.”

“I mean, I bet.” she giggled. She was still in a good mood from whatever happened inside of her earlier. “I’m sure it’s just the stupid ante-feud or whatever ending spectacularly.”

“You’re saying it wrong, Mandy. It’s pronounced ‘anti’, with an i. It’s latin and is a negation prefix. Ante is also latin but that means ‘before’, as in AM and for ante-chambers and the like.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you agree? You think it’s the preps and greasers going bananas?”

“I mean, sure… Maybe.” I chewed thoughtfully. Dread reminded me of my writings. “What if it’s the townsfolk or… The asylum patients?”

“Hah! What do they have to riot about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe ableism.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you asking because you really want to know, or because you want to make fun of me?”

Mandy had the gall to click her tongue at me, an incredulous smile spread on her lips. She rolled her eyes and sipped her milkshake before answering, her voice just as sugary sweet as the drink.

“Is that what you think of me? That I’m just a bully?”

“You’re not?”

“Oh my god, here I thought you were warming up to me, promising to help and everything.” She pouted, admittedly somewhat cutely. “Maybe I want to know, Bea? Maybe I just want you to talk more and eat slower, so that I don’t eat too fast and feel sick of these greasy burgers? Maybe I’m just using you? Who knows?”

The head cheerleader may be stupid, but as each day passes I learn repeatedly that she’s not dumb. She knows exactly what she wants, and at that moment in the diner she wanted to hear my voice. Reluctantly, but also wholly dancing to her tune, I talked us through a very long and slow meal. She humoured me with more questions, smiles and little giggles here and there, and it felt… Real. Like we were friends. Actually, when I thought back on the day later it felt like a date in hindsight.

Especially when we shared our milkshakes. She was the one who stole mine to take a taste of the vanilla, sipping it right from my straw. It felt weird, especially since I am hyper aware of what counts as an indirect kiss and not. I absolutely refused to return the favour, reminding her of my cold sores. She then stole my spoon, and spoonfed me a taste of strawberry.

I swear I’m not making this up! I promise, Mandy Wiles really acted like this for one blessed hour on this cursed earth! And the best and/or worst part is yet to come!

The riot police vans sped by right as we finished eating. They were bulky, black, with stark white text on them. One of them was equipped with a water cannon.

“Do you still think it’s a student riot?” I asked, voice hushed.

“How am I supposed to know?” she bit back, irritated. The scary police cars had snapped her out of her good mood. All of her anxieties were surfacing again. “It’s none of our business…”

“Should we tell Mrs. Carvin?”

“No, are you kidding me? She will freak out!” Mandy hissed. She glanced towards the librarian, blissfully unaware by the radio. “I mean… What if she drives away from here? What if I puke in the car?”

“Okay, it’s okay, we won’t tell her.” I comforted her as best I could. With a glance at the clock I mentally started the timer of how long I needed to keep Mandy sane. “Hey, what do you usually do after you eat? You and your friends?”

“Talk, just, whatever.”

“Do you want to keep talking to me?”

“Oh my god, you’re being so stiff about it.”

“I’ve also got pen and paper if you want to write or doodle.” I nodded towards her hands, which were nervously pinching her sleeves. “You seem a bit skittish.”

“Yeah I am. What if the police beat up my friends? Our football and cheerleading season will be ruined if they’re injured!”

I did my best to sound convincing. “It’s not us. It’s the townsfolk. Bullworth is safe.”

“Then why didn’t they answer Mrs. Carvin’s call?” she moaned. The stress was getting to her, and she leaned over the table. “Oh my god, I feel sick.”

“Hey, Mandy, please, Mandy, sit up straight.” I was grasping at straws, but the little grip I had was enough. She looked at me, and my bravest possible face. I said the thing I would have liked to hear: “Let’s just relax and do our homework!”

It was not the right thing to say.

“I DON’T WANT TO DO HOMEWORK YOU UGLY NERD!” Mandy shouted, standing up in explosive rage. All eyes in the diner were on us, but only one pair mattered.

Mrs. Carvin’s expert librarian “Shhhhh!” shot out like a whip. Both me and Mandy snapped in attention, getting eye contact from the very disappointed authority we had with us. Just like that, we both sat down again, and the normal din murmur of the diner came back too. It was awkward. It was only made worse by Mandy’s tearfilled eyes.

“I’m sorry, Beatrice.”

“It’s okay.”

“You’re not that ugly.”

“... Thanks.”

Her lower lip started quivering. Nevermind puking, it seemed she was about to break out crying. I felt so tangibly bad for her. Despite the way she treated me, I offered her my hand over the sticky diner table.

“Hey, let’s distract you.”

“Yeah.” She sniffled and dried her tears. “I’m about to freaking lose it.”

“You’re going to be okay. Actually, let’s make it fun.” Her hand was so soft in mine. I chose my next question as a conversation starter, but she took it more literally. “Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do?”

She glanced at me. She bit her lip, eyes downcast. Then she whispered, treating it like a true and precious secret. “Can I braid your hair?”

“M- my hair? ” I whispered back. She nodded. Desperate to pad out this revelation, I asked: “Do you like braiding and… So on?”

“It calms me. I like feeling the texture.” She squeezed my hand just a tad, barely noticeable. “Besides, you’ve got such thick hair. I want to see what I can do with it.”

It was really happening. This is the best part, the police cars were the worst. With no self preservation whatsoever, I dumbly agreed.

“Okay. I’m all yours.”

Mandy at her best always moves through her life with the unconquerable confidence of someone who knows they’re the main character. I don’t always know where I put myself, but I usually consider this chapter a prelude to my true adventure. Maybe that’s why I’m so mindful of others. Mandy doesn’t have to be. She took a dingy chair pillow from a nearby table chair and put it on the floor. I got to sit on that, between her legs, while she went to sensory stimulate her anxiety away with my head.

When I was younger I wore my hair in basic pigtail braids to keep it out of my face. I never bothered learning any further techniques since the function was more important than the form. Naturally I stopped wearing my hair that way when it made me look to stupid and childish. Those kinds of braids were not what Mandy had in mind for me. The moment she got my scrunchie out she was combing through my scalp, sectioning and working her way through in more ways than I could blindly count. I lost track of it in the constant touch and tug from her gentle hands.

To be fair, I never saw what she braided onto me. She never once let me get up and go to a mirror. Whenever she finished one design, she unravelled it and started the next. I felt very relieved that I had washed my hair so thoroughly that morning, so I didn’t feel embarrassed about it. Her knees were holding me still by my shoulders, and I personally think I was a very good model for her to play with like a doll. I only irritated her once.

“How come you never braid your own hair?” I asked.

“It’s less fun to do it on your own head.” She mumbled back. “Also, it makes my arms like, ache after a while.”

“That’s interesting, at least to me, and it pertains to the study of ergonomics. You see, even if you’re super fit, working in a strenuous posture can hurt the body-”

She shut me up by taking my hair by the back of my neck and pulling hard. My head shot up, and I gasped. It didn’t hurt. It felt funny. But I didn’t want to show that in the upside down face of my bully. The gasp I had let out was bad enough.

“Beatrice, don’t ruin this for me. Just be quiet, okay?” she said. I nodded as best as I could where she held me, and that was that. She let me go, and we returned to silence.

I tried to pass the time trying to imagine any similar hair pulling done between Jimmy and Gary. If I had my notes in my lap, and if I wasn’t afraid of Mandy reading over my shoulder, I may have forced something out in writing. As I contemplated it alone it felt useless. Jimmy has a buzz cut, and Gary’s hair is too short too. The best they can do is pull at the top of Gary’s head, and I know from separate experiences that it hurts bad. I had heard the back of the head was more… Different, but now I knew it as a fact. I just never thought Mandy would be the one to help me discover that difference.

The full desired hour passed. The phone rang, and of course it was for Mrs. Carvin. It seemed that the conversation was exactly what she wanted to hear, because she immediately started gathering up her purse and waved for us to follow. Mandy undid the final spectacular braid, and I put my half pony back up. We sat down in the car as if nothing particular had happened in that diner.

“The school is safe!” Carvin announced with glee. “That awful game that has been going on all week happened to create the most fortunate of coincidences.”

“What happened?” Mandy asked, more or less demanding more details.

“Every single student was busy watching the silly finale when the riot broke out in town. As soon as the prefects saw the smoke from the fires, they just shut the school gates to keep everyone safe. Nobody got near those pesky rioters, good heavens bless us all.”

“Is it safe for us to go back now?” My voice was nowhere near as sure as Mandy’s.

“According to Miss. Danvers the police have it under control.” Mrs. Carvin nodded, eyes on the highway. “They’re still catching all of the perpetrators, and the fire brigade is still doing their honest work. However, it is supposedly possible to drive through the mild chaos.”

Our car slid into the smoke stained picture, and had to crawl through the carnage that the riot had left behind. All of Bullworth seemed trashed. The vale was the worst, rioters aiming for the richer part of town with their rage. There was enough chaos on the street that Mrs. Carvin didn’t feel safe driving over it. We passed onwards to Bullworth town. It was a relief to see that the dam was still standing.

Even on the other side it was rough. Policemen directed us away from the petrol station where firetrucks were blocking our way forward. That was why we took such a roundabout way back to the campus. 

That was why I saw him. In front of the statue, surrounded by both medical personnel and police officers, I saw him. Gary Smith. He was dressed in his hospital cottons, but it didn’t seem like it from his gravitas. His face was stern like marble itself, and he obviously spoke to the ones that listened as if he was the emperor that ought to be immortalised as a statue. I didn’t hear anything. I could just tell.

Time seemed to slow as I witnessed what happened. In actuality the car physically slowed as Mrs. Carvin considered driving down second street, but changed her mind mid-way to finally settle on the drive around the final block. But during those moments of hesitation I saw Gary Smith lose.

His speech rose to an impassioned snarl. Gary Smith showed his most true and most horrifying face. He must have insulted the authorities in that biting way only he can. All of a sudden they pounced on him, this teenage boy refusing to crumble under their big adult bodies. His wild eyes saw all, but not me, and then he passed out. I saw one of the medics pull away a syringe.

Truth to be told, I was consumed by fear for the rest of the evening. Both because I had forgotten how terrifying Gary Smith can be in the flesh, but also because I had somehow near-correctly predicted the future. There had been a riot, on a much bigger scale than I could have ever imagined. Gary had led it, and Gary had lost it, specifically by getting forcibly medicated by the authorities. These may have been background details in a silly story about two boys who I happen to know, but for it to come true frightened me to my core.

All I knew was that I couldn’t tell anyone. If I was found out as a modern day oracle I would never be able to become a surgeon. If I , future Beatrice, could change anything about the past, I would beg myself to stop writing. Naturally, I didn’t.

Chapter Text

I wrote this entry in pure wistful escapism. The romance I desired had been sprouting for long enough, and I was rather desperate to smell the blooms. My life had me behaving irrationally, perhaps like a mediaeval peasant putting all of their faith that smelling perfume would cure their bubonic plague. Fake Gary and Jimmy finally confessing in their own roundabout way… That was my perfume. The plague? Oh everyone had it, in the aftermath of the riots.

Anyway.

Eyelashes. It's an intimate thing to notice. Jimmy has stopped in the dark of Gary's cell, unsure of what to do next. Usually the man would be awake and heckling by now, but if he isn't Jimmy could... He doesn't know. Instead he stares at Gary's eyelashes. 

They are fine, dark, and much longer than you would guess when Gary is staring you down with the fury of a hundred wronged sons. No, only like this, only in secret, if you have the chance to find Gary sleeping... Only then Jimmy finds peace enough to notice the details of Gary's eyelashes.

It makes him feel queasy. It makes him feel nervous. Gary has always woken up as soon as Jimmy set his foot in the cell. That is familiar. That puts him at ease. But to stand here awkwardly and get to look at Gary sleeping makes him feel like a creep.

But why a creep? What kind of creep? Jimmy isn't the horror movie creep about to strangle Gary in his sleep. It is intrusion without violence. It’s tinged with longing. It’s longing that tastes like railroad tracks made hot by the summer sun. The dream to go far away from here, wherever here was... It is something he had never shared with Gary. Did he want to?

Screw this night. It is already over. Jimmy turns back to the door and goes to leave. But his bad mood and bad habits betray him. The sound of his feet dragging on the floor wakes Gary up.

"Jimmy?"

It is humorous. Jimmy stops, and realises Gary had called his name before he even opened his eyes. Gary is groggy, just so sleepy, and can barely make out the intruder in his cell. His voice is slurry as he says:

"What's wrong with you? Why are you leaving already?"

"I changed my mind." Jimmy mumbles. His hands are deep in his pockets. He needs to take one out to open the door, but he doesn't. He waits.

"Oh. Is that so?" Gary sits up in bed, gathering up his nerves to be offended. "I don't know when my psychological incarceration became a streetside boutique to you, faggot, but you can't just come in here and leave without buying anything."

Jimmy scoffs. There is always some specific rhyme or reason to Gary's choice of insult, but at the current state of things Jimmy feels like "fag" is a reach.

"What the hell are you even selling?"

"The privilege to be in my presence." Gary announces. "So please, you may stay."

It’s so false. The fists in Jimmy's pockets harden, ready to throw punches. The door still beckons, but at this point Jimmy can't just leave. That would make him seem like the only dick in this exchange. No, he wants Gary to feel how much of an asshole he is for once. So Jimmy turns to face Gary, scowl apparent in the moonlight. All he needs is for Gary to say one dumb thing, and then he would be free to fuck off.

"Is that all you want to say?"

"Pffft, want is such a strong yet relative word! Where do I even begin? I want to blame you for ruining my life, I want to tell you about the stupid thing one of my fellow psychos did yesterday, I want to complain about the hygiene in here and-"

Jimmy turns back around, finally taking a hand out to operate the doorknob. It clicks but then-

"Wait!" Gary has a hand out, reaching. Caught in his own moment, he shrinks as he finds himself embarrassing. But he says it, loud and clear. "I want you to stay."

The circle of stupidity is complete. The final word isn't the final straw. It is the one thing Jimmy didn't know he wanted to hear. He leaves the door and approaches that poor boy of a man, left to seethe in his own flustered reservations. As graceful as a battering ram, Jimmy invades his personal space and ruffles Gary's hair.

"See? Was that so hard?"

"Shut up, idiot" Gary mumbles, half heartedly batting away the hands on his head. He shifts his seat into one corner of the bed, blanket still wrapped around him to keep the sleepy warmth. Wordlessly he motions for Jimmy to sit with him.

The springs of the bedframe creaks. It is another level of intimacy, but Jimmy doesn't feel as weird about this one since Gary has invited him. Jimmy leans back on his arms. Regarding Gary in the corner, he looks even more tired now that he is awake. It’s as if he grew wrinkles. Actually, he probably did in his furrowed forehead. Jimmy smiles softly. 

"So, what's up?"

"Don't be so smug about it, Hopkins." Gary glowered.

"Smug about what?" There was a beat that invited Jimmy to keep talking. "I thought you finally lowered your guard, admitting that you want- Oh what did you call it? The privilege to be in my presence?"

"That's what I'm talking about! You're being unbearably smug!"

"I'm just picking up what you're putting down." Jimmy shrugs. Then he leans a little closer, softening his voice in earnest. "But for real man, what's up? You look worse than last time."

Gary groans, hiding his head between his knees. He gets a fit of aggression, and uses it to ruffle and scratch through his hair like a madman, perhaps to either simulate or overwrite Jimmy's touch that has been there prior. Gary exits said swirl of motion into an unnerving err of stillness, complete with a thousand yard stare. 

"I want to murder my therapist."

"Tell me about it."

"What? You too?"

"No, fucking- literally tell me about it." Jimmy chuckles. "Why should he die? I'm here to listen, aren't I?"

Gary shakes his head, mildly entertained by his own misunderstanding too. His nerves are much too tense to dwell on it. Unbeknownst to himself he shifts in his seat to face Jimmy less , because as he starts talking the other boy becomes much more present in his thoughts.

"The bastard has been spouting bullshit from day one, but this last week he has started switching up on me. When I say something is bullshit he just agrees with me. But what's really driving me insane, pun intended, is how he has begun gaslighting me from out of nowhere!"

"Uh-huh?"

"I'm serious! Anytime I bring up the wildest most batshit things that man has said to me he's all like 'I never said that, you said that Gary, I just let you keep talking in order for you to express yourself' like- are you fucking kidding me? I know that man put all of these horrible thoughts in my head and now I can't get them out!"

"Keeps you up at night?" Jimmy's gaze is laser focused on the bags under Gary's eyes. Well, that, and the eyelashes that shade them.

"Most nights… most nights…" Gary mumbles. He is losing himself in uncomfortable remembrance until he realises the real Jimmy is right next to him. As if awoken from a dream he confesses: "I fight with you for hours, Jimmy."

This takes the stocky hero by surprise, and he sputters out a nervous laugh.

"Me? How has this got anything to do with me?"

"Everything has to do with you, James!" Gary bemoans, desperate for Jimmy to believe him. "You put me in here, for starters! And if that wasn't enough you're the nucleus for every bullshit thing my therapist calls a breakthrough or whatever!"

The mixed signals are lighting up fireworks inside of Jimmy's thick skull. To be fair he can hardly hear himself think under the booming. Gary sees the emptiness inside Jimmy's eyes and groans more.

"Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't be better off if you never came in here. The Jimmy in my head at least has a better brain than you. Then I could fix all my shit with him, get out of here and call it a day."

"I doubt it." Jimmy says. "Well, not that you'll ever get out of here, you probably will, but I don't think you can fix your shit with that other Jimmy you've made up. I mean, he's not me."

"And what's so special about you?"

"I'm real, Gary. I care about you, I think."

Gary is stunned. Something wrings in his chest, and he doesn't want to investigate which organ is trying to give out. He just stares at this supposedly superior Jimmy with thoughts of his therapy sessions. This is real.

Jimmy sighs apologetically and scratches his own neck.

"Besides, if the Jimmy in your head uses your brain I'm sure he's a mean mother-fucker. I can be way kinder to you, 100%."

"Why should you be kind to me?" Gary asks, voice airy, hardly believing what he hears.

"Because I want to." Jimmy shrugs.

Love is a sickness. Gary is certain of it. The way his heart palpitates isn’t healthy. That and the absolute idiocy of what makes his body behave that way. On the surface his poker face crumples. There’s a smile that wants to spread, no matter how much he’s trying to hold all of his stupid horses. It’s all about the way his very soul gallops towards Jimmy Hopkins.

“You’re such an idiot.” Gary mumbles. “I’ll give you that. You’re such an idiot that I can’t even imagine the next stupid thing that comes out of your mouth.”

Jimmy hears the barely restrained appreciation that’s behind all of Gary’s mean words about his intelligence. It’s blatant to him now. The insults are veiled compliments. Sure, Gary thinks he’s stupid, but Gary likes that Jimmy is stupid. Jimmy is certain he likes being liked like that… Maybe even by Gary. So Jimmy nods and enjoys this presence.

But Gary can’t enjoy it for long. His roundabout confession about what he’s going through in therapy isn’t even halfway done.

“Do you remember by the fence?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“No, do you… Actually remember what I said?”

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” Jimmy says it like it’s no big deal. As an afterthought he adds some excuses as to why he’s not taking it seriously, even though he is. “That therapist of yours said you loved me or something, and that’s like the funniest thing I heard all year.”

“Exactly, exactly.” Gary mutters, rocking a little to and fro. “See, that thing my ‘therapist said’ was according to him something that I said when I was spitballing about my broken psyche. It doesn’t make it any less bullshit, mind you! But the fact that I’m supposed to accredit that cursed thought to myself is unbelievable.”

Jimmy gives him a questioning look. 

“I mean,” Gary says, voice loud in zealous conviction. “Anyone would know that falling for you is a horrible idea!”

The boy in question is not as convinced. He sighs. The horrible thing is that he has heard it before. But beyond a facepalm and a glare, he feels he’s got the upper hand in knowledge with Gary. All he has to do is present it with grace.

“Gary, are you parents in love?”

“Oh no- no you don’t Hopkins. You do not have the medical licensing to delve into my childhood or familial background.”

“Fuck it, fine, whatever man. All I’m trying to say is…” Jimmy looked at the grimy asylum roof. “Falling in love is never a good idea. My mom keeps smack talking my dad, but she loved him, right? She loved him just like she loved every shithead step-dad I’ve had to deal with ever since.”

Gary just snickers at Jimmy’s attempt at grace.

“Well, hate to say it, no actually I love to say it, but your mom might not be a good example, Jimmy-boy. If it is nature rather than nurture she’s probably cut from the same stuff as you are.” Gary takes a pause to admire Jimmy’s frustrated groan. Then he goes on: “Although, sounds like the nurture part was awful as expected too. So, you’ve got daddy issues? Are you gonna fall in love with similarly shithead men like your little mommy?”

“Gary, fuck you, I don’t know. What does this say about you if you’re in love with me then?”

“But I’m not in love with you.”

Their eyes are locked. Jimmy chooses to not say anything. He just keeps that eye contact and lets Gary’s words hang in the air. It works. Gary feels the statement crumble and crack. His poker face fails, a bit of temperature rises, and he’s the one to look away.

“You’re trying your luck, Hopkins.”

“Aren’t you?”

“What?!” Gary twitches back, only to find that Jimmy is way closer than before. He freaks out in his little corner and pushes Jimmy back where he came from. “What the hell is wrong with you? Only a real freak would try to get it on with their worst enemy.”

“Uh-huh?” There’s that damned smugness about Jimmy. He regards Gary with all his defences up, only to slip a shiv in where it hurts the most. “So your imaginary Jimmy isn’t a real freak like you?”

Bullseye. The bed frame creaks under the mattress. Provoked to the point of aggression, Gary crosses the line he kept Jimmy away from, closing the gap between them. Admittedly he does it to grab Jimmy by the collar and tug at him in anger. Jimmy’s quick on the defence, holding both of Gary’s wrists. It both keeps him there, and keeps him from pulling too far. They’re already close enough, and in the tactical genius brain of Jimmy he knows he can’t let Gary back away now. Not when there’s so little left before…

Does he want this? Jimmy is dumbstruck at Gary’s face so close to his. The best hint he has to go on is that sun-warm familiarity from Gary’s rage. Yes, he wants this.

Gary sucks in a breath through his bared teeth. He seems to choose his words carefully.

“Is this how you flirt?”

Jimmy holds back a chuckle, and carefully considers the question. His eyes roll up to think deeply. Then they roll down, in perfect Jimmy Hopkins brand seduction.

“Only with you.”

Gary shudders. He shivers. The feeling runs all the way to his now exposed toes in the night air. He’s kneeling in the bed, slightly above Jimmy’s sitting form, and it’s… It’s perfect. Gary’s lips are uncertain as they part, and Jimmy sees them. Eyes back up on Gary’s eyes. One hand off his wrist. A careful stroke up Gary’s shoulder, to cup his neck for stability. Jimmy guides Gary’s body to where both of their hearts are ready to go.

Their first kiss is chaste. So butterfly light that it’s uncharacteristic. But it’s theirs. Gary is the one to retract from it. He gets less than an inch away, before going back down for their second kiss. It’s anything but chaste. Violence pulls at Jimmy’s shirt, and both of their mouths wrench open. A tongue Jimmy never thought he would taste is now mingling with his. Their teeth clack together. It’s very characteristic. It’s also theirs.

Jimmy is laughing when Gary pushes off him. Epiphany is shaking the scarred face so bad that Gary doesn’t know what face to make. He liked that, and it’s making him feel stupid. A familiar punch to his arm makes more sense.

“You’re a shit kisser, for the record. Like, worst yet.”

“Swapping saliva directly like that is abhorrent.” Gary says emphatically. “It’s not something I’ve ever wasted my thoughts considering.”

“Want to do it again?”

Soon enough Jimmy is kneeling on the bed as well, both of them grappling at each other as if this was a contest of wrestling rather than an embrace between newfound lovers. Gary’s hand runs over Jimmy’s round head and stubble. Jimmy tries to grab at Gary’s ass, but gets a sharp pain in his lip as a reprimand. Instead he rests his hands on Gary’s waist. Holding that slight divot, resting with weight at the hip bones, snaking around to pull him close. That move actually softens Gary’s kisses into some sort of relaxation. No matter if it’s a hold or a hug, both of them hold on tight.

Over as frantically as it began, Gary lies resting with his head in Jimmy’s lap. He’s considering a great many things. Jimmy’s not thinking at all, relishing the numbness of his slightly swollen lips. Gary has the same sensation, but finds in alien. He strokes his lips lightly.

“You got hard.”

“Yeah?” Jimmy shrugs.

“So you like me?”

“Maybe. I mean, the thrill was enough to get me going.”

“So you like me?”

“Is that what you want to hear? Then sure.”

“You want to have sex with me.”

“Pffshshs- man you’re so clinical about it. Is this how you flirt?”

Gary snaps out of his deep thoughts, flashing an angry look right into Jimmy’s waiting eyes.

“Shut it, slut! You’ve given me much to think about, and I’d appreciate it if you get the hell out of my imprisonment cell now.”

“You sure?” Jimmy runs his fingers through Gary’s hair.

It’s somehow more intimate than making out. Gary shivers once, then settles heavier. The slow and steady petting makes him close his eyes. It’s similar to finding him sleeping, except now Jimmy’s not a creep. He’s like… Dating Gary Smith somehow?

“You may stay.” Gary decides. “At least a while.”

Chapter Text

As much as it pains me, it is worth recounting the Sunday I missed from the perspective of my friends. As mentioned in passing, it started with the breakfast roll eating competition between Bif and Hal. The latter won, which was good since the Greasers were behind in points; But he also lost due to the public humiliation of being kissed on the cheek by Edna and visibly liking it. The scores may have evened, but nobody ever spoke of Hal as a victor, only as a boy with a crush on our eccentric lunch lady.

Tension was high according to Melvin. Neither of the cliques were sure to win or lose, meaning that the finale would be the deciding factor. Leading up to it was a tornado of attempts to impress Jimmy, all to gain the extra points to make the finale moot. The air of desperation got so contagious that members of non-competing cliques started trying to do the same. One such memorable moment was Kirby Olsen following Jimmy around, all while walking on his hands. Different accounts tell different tales, but the range of stamina for the physical feat lies between thirty seconds and ten whole minutes. Since I wasn't there I will never find out which end of the spectrum rings true.

The main reason as to why both cliques were so nervous was because nobody but Jimmy knew what the finale would entail. All they knew was that it would take place on the football field. En masse the student body took their place on the bleachers. It was no hyperbole that everyone was there. Normally my friends wouldn't be caught dead at a football game, but this was no football game. The Jocks kept thinking it would be, in the hopes of watching their type of game on their home turf. Of the same yet different mind, the Greasers uselessly brought their bikes in the vain hope it would help them. The preps brought nothing. Their preparations were done beforehand, metaphorical knives hidden in the shadows. 

I want to admire Jimmy's inventive spirit. He's so creative, although, maybe he had some help from…? It doesn't really matter. He revealed two tall stacks of packing pallets, proudly announcing that he had "borrowed" them from Spencer Shipping. The rules of the game was a friendly game of the floor is lava, combined with the fact that everyone was allowed to move the pallet islands like tiles on a board. On the actual raised platforms you were allowed to push, but not fight. Both teams started a fair bit away from each other and had to build their way into confrontation, in whichever strategic way they may choose. Whatever clique had the last man standing got the point.

Several rounds of this were played. Excitement rose even higher due to the increasing number of bribed students tossing projectiles onto the greasers, and subsequently missing to instead hit the preps. Everyone in the audience had a roar of a time, so much so that no one left. This was how every single student but me and Mandy were locked inside the school grounds to be kept away from the riot.

Nobody even noticed the smoke rising over Bullworth town.

It was the prefects themselves who sauntered onto the football field to announce the situation. Jimmy, who had just raised Johnny Vincent's arm in victory, became furious. He picked a fight with all of the prefects, both of the preps and the greasers uniting behind him. Derby and Johnny Vincent themselves fought right next to each other! The anti-feud had led to the mortal enemies fighting side by side! Or… Maybe none of the trapped students from any clique liked being literally caged inside when the city was burning. The prefects actually lost a fight for once, to the crowds rambunctious cheer.

Not that it gained the rest anything. The gates were still locked, and the key in turn was locked inside of Crabblesnitch's office. Jimmy excluded, lost on a quest of his own, the greater student body spent the Sunday in great connection to each other, everyone hungering for news on the situation in town. Disasters tend to bring people together.

Here's where things went wrong for me and Mandy. Our absence was soon accounted for. One innocent question skirted close to the uncomfortable truth, and two girls in particular made all hell break loose. See, everyone on the cheerleading squad knew where Mandy was and why, but none of them were allowed to talk about that publically, so when pressure was put on them the weakest link was bound to break… Christy and Angie both were about to say it. In the face of Ted, who was still Mandy's boyfriend, might I remind you, and had a right to worry, Angie got so nervous that she let it slip that Mandy was at the doctor's. Both her and Christy's hands immediately covered her mouth. Ted insistently asked what for, and in a desperate attempt to hide the real reason Christy suggested that Mandy had gone for an abortion??!!

That level of sensational rumour, lie or not, was impossible to stop. No matter how the girls tried to undo their collective mistake they wouldn't be let off the hook without Mandy's other alibi. Therefore, Mandy's made up pregnancy was a wildfire throughout the student body.

Ted's stress about fatherhood made things worse. I didn't fit into the abortion story, until he had the absolute intelligence of a beach ball: He figured that Mandy’s pregnancy had been contagious and infected me too as her roommate, making him a father to TWO abortions! Is anyone surprised that Ted is pro-life? He was distraught, already mourning his two firstborn sons, waxing pseudo-poetic of how he would have been able to make a man out of a little nerd-child too… Oh, I shudder just thinking about it!

My friends were outraged at the mere implication that I would have slept with Ted. They actually approached the jocks in order to clear things up, but to no one’s surprise they instead found out that the feeling was mutual, prompting the jocks to say very colourful things about me. But when the jocks “explained” and that this was a "pregnancy by association" my friends instead got outraged at the state of sexual education in all of America. In an attempt to educate the jocks the lie spiralled further. Now everyone wanted to know which nerd had fathered my abortion ??!!

I both wish I could have been there, while also dread those fearful hours while this confusion was left to stew.

By the time that me and Mandy arrived on campus everyone was virtually hanging on the gates to see us come inside. A mere fourth still prioritised asking us about what we saw of the riots in town. The rest were frantic about our perceived lost children. I know I've been able to retell a lot of happenings in this chronology with dialogue and everything, but this scene hurts my head to think about. I'm proud so far of my memory of who said what and where. This part I don't want to remember that closely.

Mandy's voice was louder than mine. She and Ted got into a public shouting match. He was upset she got an abortion. She was upset he thought she had. He then said she isn't allowed to do that without his approval. She then said he has no say over her body anyway. Ted blurted out he thought they were getting married, so yes he did. Mandy confessed she planned on marrying rich after becoming a model, so no he didn't. 

It was a spectacular breakup. My heart was racing at Mandy’s bravery. As her partner in this whole mess, I somehow spent the entire thing right by her side. She even took my hand when she insisted that we hadn’t had any abortions. I was so scared.

The strange thing about rumours is that they never quite die. My role in the grand story was a side-plot to the jock's King and Queen divorcing for good. My role in my own story was still deeply affected. See, I wanted to know what had happened. I wanted to understand how everything could have happened the way it did that day. But the more I heard my friends recount their “defence” of not being my lover, the more disappointed I became. Them getting perceived as non-virgins was more important than my chastity. 

There has been this perverse rumour that I am a slut who sleeps with anyone with my clique. I hate that rumour so much. They are my friends, and I would never think of them that way. So this revelation hurt me badly. I ended up sobbing in front of them again, and this time nobody comforted me. It wasn’t meant to last forever, but I "broke up" from my friends too. I just needed some time apart from them. I just needed time.

And what an awful time I had. One day of misery was enough. I was so lonely, even though my schedule of studying was virtually the same. You never know how much it means until it’s gone, but to have nobody to talk to, compare homework with, discuss physics, mathematics or even Grottos & Gremlins... I felt absolutely miserable. Writing and reading about fake Jimmy and Gary could only do so much. 

Every time I heard someone laughing in the halls I felt as if they were laughing at me.

That’s how Mandy found me crying one evening. I tried to sneak a little sob-session in while she was in the shower. My eyes and nose were still running when she came back.

“What’s up?” Was her exact words to break open my waterworks again. 

I insisted that she didn’t stand around feeling awkward, so in the end she did her usual after shower routine of lotioning and so on while I told her all about how betrayed my friends had left me feeling. All throughout it her face was grim and serious, but she didn’t say anything. She promised to get back to me after blowing her hair. I used the break the loud machine gave us to actually dry my tears. That way I was nearly presentable when she finally faced me, fire in her eyes, hot air still lingering in her hair.

“Fuck them, Bea. I mean fuck them for treating you that way. I’m damn pissed for your sake, and I want you to know it.”

“O-okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. You’re this lonely without them, but you’re that respected with them? Like, oh my god, they’re not good enough to be your friends anyway!”

I wanted to feel flattered by her indignation, but old wounds were aching. I hugged my pillow tight in my bed.

“But I don’t have any other friends…” When I said this, she huffed in a strange way. This prompted me to consider something new, something that never would have imagined before the whole debacle: “Are… Are you my friend?”

“I don’t think I have been.” She crossed her arms. She looked away. I know I saw guilt in her otherwise faultless posture. Her eyes landed on my herpes medication on my nightstand. “... Maybe I could be?”

This was the start of something new and quite magical. After several years of animosity within the same four walls, me and Mandy instead became regular roommates. Not that anything changed when we weren’t in our room, but every evening, and sometimes in the morning, we would talk, and talk, and talk. Mandy liked talking smack about Ted. I liked talking about the injustice of our whole abortion-drama. In the beginning we talked about things adjacent to that the most, as our only common ground.

Every now and then sprinkles of something else got into our talks. I learned more about makeup, fashion and hairstyling, in theory at least. There was a lot of jargon to memorise, which I actually found fun, no matter if it was the names of hairstyles or different cuts of skirts. Mandy listened to me whenever I went on tangents about worldly things. She still doesn’t listen to me in my advanced topics, but she likes my abridged versions of books or less strange knowledge.

On my final day of loneliness I was predictably saved by the only saviour Bullworth has to offer. Jimmy Hopkins approached me at lunch and sat down next to me.

“Hey.”

“Hi!” I perked up, less gloomy in an instant. “I haven’t seen you around much lately.”

“Nah, it’s… It’s been different.” Jimmy said with a shrug. I already knew that he had been spending a lot of time in town, caring for the wounds made in the community of townies. “Some riot, huh?”

I only nodded, not sure where to start. I could tell he wanted something from me, but not exactly what, and that made me nervous in a different way from just Jimmy-Is-Talking-To-Me nervous. He waited patiently for me to respond. When I didn’t he let out a gorgeous little laugh.

“Hey, ease up, Beatrice. I just heard you actually saw some shit when you were driving through town.”

“I did.” I said. “Mandy too, didn’t she?”

“Not really.” He looked to the cheerleader’s table, Mandy’s breakup having segregated the jock’s by gender. “She said you did though.”

I would have told him, because it’s him, but I opened up to him much faster because… Because it was Mandy who referred him to me. I wanted her word to be trustworthy. I wanted Jimmy to like her, I think, because at this point… I liked her? Oh to imagine if this had happened shortly after that kiss between Mandy and Jimmy that sparked this whole story about my private writings. I would have told him to go shove himself in a locker and throw that bitch’s clothes in the sea! At this point in time, everything had already changed.

When I had told Jimmy about everything I saw, including Gary, he had a thoughtful look in his eye.

“Thanks. It may seem weird, but it makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” I asked, aghast that he found meaning in me ranting about property damage and how scary it was to see Gary mouth off authority only to get consequences.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this.”

“Of course you are.” I flattered him nervously. “You’re our very own hero here in Bullworth. If anyone is going to solve the mystery, it has to be you.”

Jimmy smiled at me. Jimmy took my hand over the table and gave it a squeeze. For a moment my life as I had dreamt about it months before was complete.

“Your cold sores look better.” He said with an approving nod. “Let’s make out again soon, okay?”

Exit stage left. I sat in flustered awe of experiencing the real life Hopkins-brand seduction that I enjoyed writing so much about. The direct implication that I would be enjoying his lips on mine in the near future did respectfully set me into a bit of a fit after having been without it for so long.

My glasses fogged up, so when I was cleaning them an unexpected visitor had time to sneak up on me.

“Beatrice?”

“Cornelius?” With my spectacles back on I could confirm that it was indeed my thespian friend. He was standing next to my table, awkward and lanky as always, but perhaps worse due to me not talking to him for a good while.

“Uhm… What did you and Jimmy converse about?”

“Oh, nothing really. I mean, something actually, he asked about what I saw about the riots in town. It’s all he wanted to know.”

“I see.”

For a long moment we were just together in silence.

“Please, sit down.” I finally invited him.

He slank down into the hard bench seat of the cafeteria table and had a little breakdown in truth, voicebox chattering erratically yet with very clear enunciation.

“It’s just that Jimmy has barely been paying attention to me recently and since you’re angry with all of us I thought he wanted to talk to you about how you’re right, we’re all horrible, and he will never ever want to associate with any nerd but you again, because you deserve better, so much better that you deserve Jimmy Hopkinds holding your hand himself!”

This sudden gutting of guilt left me perplexed. Instead of taking my own issue at hand, I gently prodded at Cornelius’.
“Uhm… Haven’t you heard? Jimmy is spending most of his time with the townies. A lot of them got hurt in the riot…”

My friend looked just like how he does when he mis-moves in chess. “He has?”

“Yes, I… I don’t think he cares about the nerds enough right now to hate you. He’s just busy.”

“Oh…”

Finally talking with someone I cared for again made me laugh. Not in malice, just in joy that such a mistake would be the thing that brought us together. This kind of stress was the plague that ravaged the student body, and in hindsight I think the only remedy is conflict resolution.

“Do you remember when we fought over him?” I asked, cheerful. “When he kissed Mandy?”

“Oh yeah, that was pretty funny in hindsight.” Cornelius was somewhat bashful. “I’m kind of glad you didn’t take to violence this time. You carry a mean claw.”

“No, well, uhm, sure, thank you!”

“Haah, I’m not supposed to talk to you yet, but I miss you Beatrice.” He confessed. “The rest of the guys are still writing their speeches, worrying about how to make them perfect so that you’ll forgive us.”

“Speeches?”

“Yes, we want to impress you, and the best impressions are made with thoroughly prepared words and a script in hand!” Cornelius put both hands over his heart as he said this. His serious attitude waxed, arms crossing instead. “But now I think they’re just meandering because we haven’t set a deadline. I swear, if this keeps up their grades are going to start slipping.”

“No!” I gasped. “Are they skipping out on homework?”

“Yes, they are.”

“This simply cannot be! Cornelius, tell them I’ll be in the observatory today at 17 hours to hear them out, or else I won’t hear them at all. I never wanted you guys to end up in the academic dirt!”

Safe to say, I finally had the chance to reunite with my friends. The brunt of their speeches, including their APA style citation sheets, are found in my School Memories Folder, and will thus not be covered in this chronology. In the end, I do think this opportunity was all thanks to Jimmy. Him speaking to me made Cornelius in turn speak to me, which made everything turn out well in the end.

Cornelius did however share one more little moment with me. It was when we were walking home through the forest from the observatory. He fiddled with his hands behind his back.

“Hey Beatrice, is Mandy doing okay?”

Playing dumb, as if we were still enemies, I said: “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“I was just hoping… I mean, now that she and Ted are history, don’t you think she needs a new boyfriend?”

In my memory I clearly remember the way the pine trees were reaching for the twilight sky. I looked up at them, not sure what to call the feeling in my own chest.

“Well… Good luck, Cornelius.”

“Thanks, I’ll surely need it!” he laughed, his eyes full of hope.

I know now that even then I wished I had some of that hope or luck for myself.

Chapter Text

Downtown Bullworth kept looking like a war zone. Most people don't consider it, but in modern warfare when there are crimes against humanity being committed, such as bombings of civilian settlements, people keep living in the war zone. So even if the bombs have stopped falling and the fires have stopped burning, there will be plenty who commute to work amongst the rubble. 

(Well, that or even more civilian things. The Aquaberry store may have been smashed to pieces, and they burned their own damaged goods to avoid selling it to poor people, but the store immediately started hosting fundraising vernissages with art from local artists to keep their appearances up until next season's clothing releases.)

Due to the general worry about how scary the town looked, the faculty advised Bullworth Academy students to not enter town alone. Much like swimming we were supposed to have a buddy system to keep from drowning. Since it took me a while to regain buddies to go with, I was completely shocked to see how bad the town still looked when I finally got back into it. This made me quite emotional, and only furthered the internal divide between fake Gary and real Gary. The one in my head would never aim for such destruction.

Someone who wasn't happy about this was of course Jimmy. His own efforts to mend the community soon culminated in something grand: a Student-Town Cleanup Saturday! It was actually arranged by a core group of all the clique leaders, just to encourage as many students as possible to follow under Jimmy's flag. I would have attended no matter if Earnest urged me to. It's just so flattering for the rough and tumble Jimmy to arrange an environmental drive to improve our planet!

However, as demanded by the school, everyone participating in the cleanup had to be part of a pair, reflecting the buddy system. Crabblesnitch himself also suggested that we ought not pair up as friends, since then we might spend the Saturday faffing about instead of cleaning. That's why the sign up form had a field where you listed who you didn't want. Christy tried writing the entire student roster except for Angie, but she forgot Sheldon so that's who she got.

I was nowhere near as unreasonable. Due to my current circumstances when it comes to rumours and insecurities, I simply requested that I would not be paired up with any boys. Since I didn't write that I didn 't like to be with Mandy, I was very pleased with the possibility of spending the day with my new secret friend.

What I forgot to factor into my equation was that since Ted was on the organising committee, Mandy didn't attend at all. This did stump me a little, however, it was not nearly enough to dissuade me from going at all! These kinds of charitable extracurricular activities can be put on your college application!

Instead I was paired up with Zoe. Zoe Taylor to me has always been… Odd. Before the advent of Jimmy Hopkins she was the rowdy girl who got expelled. After it all, she was the girl who got crowned Jimmy's most girlfriendy girlfriend. No matter how benevolent the emperor, in every harem there's always a favourite. Since I wasn't very much friends with her before, and since she had to repeat a year as my junior despite being the same age in lieu of the expulsion, I've never had much time with her. That's what made this day so different.

Foremost because Zoe was really competitive. The most trash bags collected gained the victor nothing but bragging rights, but how she wanted those bragging rights! Because of her extensive knowledge of Bullworth, she also knew where to look to find the grimiest alleyways where most trash amassed. I followed her lead, swept up in her infectious enthusiasm.

That was until I found a grandiose pile of used condoms between two overfilled trash cans. I shrieked like a Victorian lady about to faint.

"Hey, are you okay?" Zoe asked, having appeared with an arm around my shoulder. "Was it a dead rat?"

No words able to form, so I just pointed at the grotesque collection of soiled rubber. Zoe had the good heart to understand my fear. She sat me down on a beer-crate a little ways off, to drink my water and calm down while she used her metal tongs to clean up every last condom around.

"I didn't have an abortion." Was the first thing I said after my fit.

"I know."

"I'm… Actually a virgin."

"Oh really?" As much as she tried, she couldn't quite fake her surprise well enough to be convincing. "I mean, I wouldn’t have guessed because it's rude, but, uh, yeah, I believe you."

"You knew?"

"Okay fine, I knew." Zoe sighed. Some other students ran past the alley, but it was like we were invisible. This was a conversation between just me and her. "It's just obvious in how you act. If you've used a condom before they're not that scary."

My fingers clenched around the bottle. "... So you have?"

"Of course." I can't describe her defiant smile any other way than punk-rock. "Thanks to that, I haven't had an abortion either!"

I giggled nervously at the sisterhood between teenagers between two different camps. No matter if you spend your high-school years prim or promiscuous, nobody wants to have a teenage pregnancy. This breaking of the ice made me feel safe with her.

"So…" It was uncouth to ask. "Was Jimmy your first?"

"Oh hell no!" Uncouth enough to answer, Zoe laughed. "My first wasn't as bad as this alley, but it sure wasn't far off!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"It's okay, I don't mind. If you can help it, you should try and make your first time special."

"What do you mean if I can help it?"

"Sometimes sex just happens." She shrugged, full of sage wisdom. "I wish I could make it sound all romantic, but it doesn't have to be. Sex can be silly and stupid."

I nodded, lost in thought. She hit one of my two nails on the head:

"Especially with Jimmy."

I sputtered and flustered at the implication.

"No! Why-? Zoe! Don't just say that!"

"Remember to use a condom!" She laughed, teasing me. Something highly queer within her was enjoying my blush, I just know it.

After a bit of wind-down and returning to picking trash, I gathered up courage to ask yet another uncouth question. 

"It's odd." I muttered under my breath, loud enough for her to hear it. "If you're having sex with Jimmy, why do you suggest I should? Are you poly?"

"I'm not." She let that hang for a while. As sinister as it sounded, she had a serene grace. Smiling, she was the patient punk angel picking litter from the gutter. "We've sort of broken up since summer."

"... How come literally no one knows that?"

"We didn't want to make it a big deal. I know I want that dumbass in my life, just not as a boyfriend. Like, he's my best friend. He's going to be the godfather to my little goblin children, and he'll teach them what sand is good to eat, I just know it."

I giggled, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. What a wonderful future to dream of. We won the trash collecting competition together. I want Zoe all the best.

I also want to credit her for inspiring this next passage. While I did consider making the two have sex inside of the asylum, I didn't think Gary would be able to live that down in a perceived future. Therefore I saw it as highly convenient, and highly improbable to come true, to write Gary out of there.

It's not hard to sneak away from Bullworth Academy. There are only so many prefects. What makes it trickier for Jimmy is that on these missions he wants to avoid students as well. If Russel is having a late night by the parking lot, then how is he supposed to get to his bike unseen? If Trent solicits him for a good time, how will he ever get to the better time at the asylum?

Jimmy doesn't want anyone to know that he visits Gary this frequently. It's becoming more frequent still.

Is it that bad that he wants to kiss him more?

Is it that bad that he wants to kiss him, and then some more?

So far Gary has kept everything above the belt, all clothes on, just like a prudish girl before prom night. As the more experienced, and the less patient, Jimmy is keeping himself in line as best he can. Gary takes the littlest touches so seriously. Whenever Jimmy oversteps it's time for yet another rant about how they will be found out and everything will be awful for it.

All he can do is come more often. Visit so frequently that Gary can't collect his thoughts, can't freeze dry his lust, can't resist this constant temptation. Each and every kiss is a chip from his armour. It just has to be.

The prefect finally walks by to tell off the lingering bullies to respect curfew. Jimmy breathes out in the shadow, slinking into the empty parking lot. The bike garage rattles loud enough for the turned away prefect to hear.

"Hey! What did I just tell you?" The gruff man shouts.

But Jimmy is already long gone. All the prefect sees is the back of a bike slipping out the gates. When he rushes to get a better look, it's already too late. Jimmy has vanished into thin air (actually turning down to the bike track around school grounds).

These woods, related to the ones near the observatory, are the tougher cousin of the two. Rumours of werewolves permeate both, but only on the beaten sand tracks and old mining tunnels does Jimmy feel the least bit of magic in the air. He pedals fast, not for fear, but for the joy of cycling somewhere he wants to be. Speedwise or not, he jumps the jumps, balances the tricks, just for the sake of doing them. He loves cycling. He loves Gary. Both loves makes him feel like flying.

The tunnel that leads to the asylum is inside another tunnel. Jimmy zooms into the dimness already dim from twilight, the uncertain ride turned to routine to him by now. He knew this route like the back of his hand.

Consider Jimmy's surprise when a man stands at the second joint of his middle finger. Consider the shock to meet someone in the middle of the night, obviously waiting for you. This shape in the darkness wasn't passing through on a sunset walk. This psychopath stood right in the most worn part of the bike track, begging to be hit.

Reflexes faster than his fear, Jimmy swerves around the person. His brakes screech. It sounds like a werewolf’s howl. That illusion is quickly broken by said stranger laughing out loud in that all too familiar tone.

“What the fuck Gary?!” Jimmy shouts, abandoning his bike in the dirt.

“Missed me, Hopkins?”

Gary Smith holds his arms out, either as a show of dominance, or as an invitation to embrace. It’s hard to tell in the darkness. It doesn’t matter, Jimmy going directly for Gary’s collar. His fists close around the hoodie’s jersey fabric and pull.

“What the fuck , Gary?” he repeats, their faces a hand’s breadth apart.

“Oh, were you worried I would get hit? Please, I could have-” He’s interrupted by Jimmy pulling at them to the side, attempting to trip Gary. He defends the action, grabbing back at Jimmy’s collar. “Are you stupid? Why do you wanna fight?”

“You- … You-!” Jimmy struggles in both the standing wrestling match, and the standing emotions tripping inside his head. 

Finally he decides on one, mashing his mouth against Gary’s. The kiss is so similar to all other ones they’ve shared so far, in all of its aggression, passion and barely contained lust. But this time Gary’s lips are cold from fresh outside air. Gary’s knuckles are freezing against his collarbones. Gary seeks his warmth, softly admitting in the littlest bit of submission that he needs Jimmy to be here.

Because of that, Jimmy breaks the kiss to properly embrace Gary. They both breathe for a moment, oxygen deprived by their own most animalistic desires. Gary doesn’t hug back, content to be squeezed with both arms inside the stronghold of Jimmy’s chest. He still hasn’t let go off the collar he grabbed while they fought.

“Did you break out?” Jimmy asks, so helplessly hoping for the only salvation he can imagine.

“No.” Gary grinned, full of pride in the secret he had kept for so long. “They gave me probation. I’m back in society, ready to tear it a new one. I’ll return to school on Monday.”

Actual butterflies take flight in Jimmy’s twisting stomach. Is he overjoyed or overrun with fear? It doesn’t matter. He hugs Gary even tighter, tight enough to lift him off the ground and spin him about, despite the man’s loud protests. That’s probably it. He’s being loud. He’s shouting and complaining, without worrying about an orderly catching them in his cell. Jimmy spins faster. He wants to make Gary scream.

“- you bumbling oaf , stop this instant, or else I’ll-”

He wants to make Gary scream. Jimmy stops, puts the taller boy he somehow picked up down, only to snake his embrace down lower. Gary flinches when Jimmy grabs his butt, this sacred ground that has been so sharply off limits until now. There’s no protest. Jimmy loyally looks up, his small eyes saying so many big emotions in just one look.

“It will be fine!” Gary groans, facepalming in the face of such obvious worry. “We will keep it secret, as long as you do whatever I tell you, okay Jimmy-boy?”

“Boyfriend.”

“What?”

“I’m your boyfriend.” Jimmy says, trying to be decisive. Instead he sounds like pouting.

Luckily, it makes Gary smile. “Yes, fine, you are my boyfriend.”

Gary is the one to initiate one of their rare soft kisses. It fills Jimmy with hope. If he only does as Gary tells him, no one will know. That way, he can keep Gary, and this side of Gary, all to himself. Only him and Gary, in the whole wide world, needs to know. 

A sudden squeeze at his buttocks makes Gary shiver out of the kiss, straightening as tall as he goes on his tippy toes.

“I want to fuck you.” groans Jimmy into his chest.

“Not so fast, loverboy, as I said if you cared to listen, I have plans.”

“Plans for us to fuck?”

“Exactly! All we need is enough money for a room at the motel, where we sneak in at separate hours, preferably with alibis.”

Disappointed, Jimmy pressed his head into Gary’s neck, and his hard boner into Gary’s legs. His stakes couldn’t be clearer than this. He didn’t want to wait anymore. Now that he finally had a handful of Gary’s ass, he didn’t want to let go.

“... Don’t think you’ll change my mind by being cute, Hopkins.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“You’re pathetic.”

“You think I’m cute.”

“Shut up.”

Two lips meet to keep them both silent. Only it doesn’t last. Gary is not quite putty, but he is clay being generously groped by Jimmy’s strong hands. Delicious restrained moans slip out from between their tongues.

“Someone will see-” Gary protests, paranoia audible.

“Let’s get cover.” Jimmy breathes into his ear.

The bike is suspiciously forgotten in the middle of the track, ready to trip anyone who comes racing down during the twilight hour. Luckily, only Jimmy Hopkins is both brave and foolhardy enough to do that, and Jimmy Hopkins himself is hiding in the woods. Gary is pressed against a tree, growing hard while Jimmy actually touches his front instead of his back. Above them pine trees are reaching for the sky.

I did have a brief stop here in my writing, realising that I had inadvertently put the sex scene at a very similar scene to where I had quite complicated feelings about Mandy. Since my process is just going wherever my pen takes me, it was very uncomfortable to stumble over such obvious signposts to my deeper psyche. Nevermind the fact that I wrote this in quite an aroused state with Mandy laying in bed just metres away with her sleep mask blindfolding her from my sins. Not that I touched myself! But I did keep writing.

There was a special thrill about Gary wearing casual clothes. No asylum uniform, not even a school uniform, just comfortable clothes that were way too easy to open up. Jimmy was eager to please, sliding Gary’s joggers and underwear down enough for his erect cock to bob freely in the outside air. With a steady grip on Gary, he jerks him off with enthusiasm.

“Softer!” Gary whimpers, overstimulated too soon. “What are you, a monkey?”

“What? You don’t grip hard?”

“Not that hard!” he grumbles back, aggressively tearing open Jimmy’s belt. Hand down his pants, he takes a demonstrative vice grip around Jimmy and rubs energetically. “You’re like this , you know?”

“Unnghh- yes!” Jimmy grunts. “Like that.”

“Oh, you whore.”

“I want to hear you, Gary.”

“Then touch me as I tell you. Go slower.”

Both of their breaths mingles, ragged and hot. With only a few coherent words from Gary, the two men stand there to masturbate each other in perfect secrecy. Only moans echo for the potential werewolves to hear. The contrast between them, Gary pulling and squeezing at Jimmy like he owes him money, and Jimmy trying his best to stay evenly paced and light in his touch… They’re so different, but their desire for one another is one and the same.

Thanks to Gary’s hard grip, Jimmy is the one to start moaning more frequently.

“Gary, I’m-” he pants. “I think I’m gonna-”

Much too fast, Gary drops to his knees, fearlessly putting Jimmy’s cock in his mouth. Unmuffled, loud enough to echo, Jimmy groans and moans through an orgasm that spills into Gary’s oral cavity in mighty spurts. The soft surface of Gary’s tongue has a temperature slightly lower than Jimmy’s blood, making the semen land hot. When the pulsating finally stops, Gary has to push at Jimmy’s hips to escape from between that and the tree. He neatly sucks his lips around the head around the penis. Not a drop is spilled, until he tilts his head to the side and coughs it all out.

“Why’d you…” Jimmy gasps, still out of reason in his thick head to understand.

“Rather this than soil my clothes.” mutters Gary, drying his lips with his fingers instead of his shirtsleeve. “We can’t leave any evidence, idiot.”

As if he does understand, but really he doesn’t - because there is no understanding of how Gary Smith got such a horny and unsanitary idea on his own, and decided to act it out to boot - Jimmy just nods.

“I’ll do you too.”

When Gary is propped up against the tree again, Jimmy sucking at him with more practice than he would like to admit, Gary regains his superiority.

“You were quite eager to drop to your knees, huh?”

Mouth full, there’s no graceful way to answer. Jimmy’s eyes look up at Gary with enough of a hint for the other to take. Gary twitches against Jimmy’s tongue.

“I think I could get used to this. Not too hard now- just- yes, keep going like that. I’m building…”

Gary’s first orgasm at the hands of Jimmy was still muffled. Not enough to be hidden. Just enough to be hot. Gary bit his own knuckle, moaning through his own metacarpal bone, unable to keep it down. Jimmy felt the way Gary’s knees shook. He wanted more of this. So he swallowed Gary’s cum, desperate to impress his… Boyfriend. They were boyfriends.

“What? Gross.” Gary kicks a rock at the track, the two of them walking back to fetch one bike and say one goodbye.

“But you didn’t notice? It was that good, huh?” Jimmy teases, rubbing elbows in the most annoying smug way.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Jimmy. Anyone can spit or swallow.”

“I’ll swallow you again.” There was such beauty when Gary failed to hold back a laugh. Jimmy felt like he was glowing, all because of his own silly jokes. “That’s not something anyone can do.”

“I suppose you’re right, for once.” Gary looks to the starry sky. “I don’t want to do these grotesque acts with anyone but you… My plan contains you doing it with everyone else though?”

“What?”

“I need you to act as if you’re still the whore-king of Bullworth, Jimmy. Make out with people, give them gifts, maybe touch them a little. Oh, don’t look so disappointed! Be a good slut! It’s the best way for us to remain incognito about our… Thing we got going on.”

“The least you can do is call it what it is.” Jimmy stopped, pouting again.

“Our…” Gary tried. Gary stopped. Gary looked down, Gary looked up, blush rising hot on his cold face. “Our love.”

“PFPPFPFFFFF-” Strong tackle, Jimmy embraced Gary in every feeling there was. “I thought you were going to say ‘relationship’! Holy shit, that’s so funny!”

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I love you, so fucking much!”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”

“I swallowed your cum, at least let me speak like it tasted.”

“GROSS, HOPKINS, GROSS!”

I laughed at this joke, which woke Mandy up. She asked if I was crying. It was somehow less embarrassing to say I was. I went to bed, not to continue this banter either.

Chapter Text

The passage of time in this experience is less important than the movements of the heart. If future me wishes to actually cross-reference this in more detail, it is possible to glean what happened where in my diary, even if I wrote that as a veritable public document in case that would get confiscated or stolen, because you can’t keep shit at Bullworth.

My heart had however at this point moved so much further away from the Beatrice that wrote about her and Jimmy as a married couple. To me that was nothing but a nursery, exactly as my teacher had described it. By this point I was well into my sophomore year of high-school homosexual romance, hardly ever remembering the tales and plots that I had played with in kindergarten.

The trouble is that if you tumble down a hill and cry for three hours straight, the people will keep calling you a crybaby until you inevitably leave your hometown behind to go to the furthest off college you can get into… Or you apply to something like Bullworth, a boarding high school, if you’re keen on getting away early.

What I’m trying to allude to is that my momentary openness in the beginning of this tale was about to affect me once more. Remember, I did briefly open up to Mr. Galloway. Sadly I did not have the fortune of him forgetting it in his drunken haze of a life. Furthermore, as I’m sure nobody forgot, I told all of my friends about “me and fake Jimmy”, and no matter how kindly they avoided talking about my breakdown and cry there, they too remembered.

See, in Mr. Galloway’s English class, there’s me, Algie, and Donald from the nerd clique. There are also a bunch of other students, but they won’t be as necessary in this scene. The one student that is, is of course Jimmy Hopkins. When he shows up to English class I’ve heard he does a splendid job, even if his overall attendance record is dodgy at best. This particular class out of all classes, he was present.

The usual worksheet teachings of Mr. Galloway had the class relatively calm. Me and my friends were silently passing each other notes reviewing the chemistry homework we had gotten the previous period. Jimmy seemed to be filling out his worksheet, only two rows away from my creed in green. Mr. Galloway, close to the lesson’s end, was absentmindedly poking about his desk, where he found a paper that sparked his attention. Without any of the fine touch that is needed to not spook a student in their teens, he called out to me, publically:
“Excuse me, Beatrice?”

“Yes?” I said, hurrying to hide my chemistry work as if I would get in trouble for studying something other than English.

“Did you get on with that short story you talked to me about?”

Right then and there I wanted to perish. Both Algie and Donald looked to me in complicit embarrassment. They still imagined Mr and Mrs Hopkins-Trudeau, while I was flashing memories of Smith-Hopkins smut.

“Oh- uhm-” I stuttered, a nervous laughter just bubbling out of me. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s this short story competition for high schoolers that I’m supposed to tell all my students about” Mr. Galloway said over an awkward rustle as he tried to smooth out the already wrinkled paper from his desk. “I sort of figured I could cut to the chase and headhunt. Lord knows they wished some good authors would come out of this school instead of… Whatever it is people become.”

I made the mistake of glancing towards Jimmy. To my horror, he was already paying attention, turned halfway around in his chair and looked right at me. The colour couldn’t rush to my face any faster.

“Mr. Galloway, I’m, uhm, sorry to say, but I never finished that story.” I lied.

“Hmm?” Galloway raised his eyebrows. “Ah, but you know endings are the hard parts. Most authors write more beginnings than they ever write endings, you know. Do you know how it ends?”

I blanked. Donald pushed up his glasses and spoke up in my stead:

“Respectfully sir, do you even know what the story is about?”

“... Huh. Guess you never told me that, Beatrice.”

“No, I-I’m sorry.”

“But as long as it’s under 5000 words it’s eligible for the competition.” he read from his paper. Then he squinted at some fine print. “Oh, unless it contains gratuitous violence, sexual references, depictions of gore, fetishistic content, any US president living or dead, alcohol… Well, whatever, you can review the list yourself if you’re interested.”

Jimmy put his hand up.

“I wanna see that list.”

“Oh, James!” Mr. Galloway laughed. “Why, do you have a story knocking about in that brave heart of yours?”

Somehow commanding the attention of the entire room, Jimmy crossed his arms and looked to the ceiling in deep thought. I was beyond relieved to retreat into Jimmy’s shadow, now that he was in the spotlight.

“See, I do have this one idea.” He mused. “It’s about how an evil maths teacher gets brought to justice. I think the hero is a student, tasked by a much better teacher, but I haven’t decided what subject that teacher teaches, you know?”

This appeared to be some inside joke between three very identifiable characters at this school. Galloway had a hearty chuckle and shook a supposed-to-be-patronising finger at Jimmy.

“No, I think you know. On a completely unrelated note, have you heard of the ‘all persons fictitious disclaimer’?” Our teacher must have been nearly sober that day, because he shot out of his chair, narrating while his surprisingly speedy handwriting etched the words on the blackboard. “ Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Oh, and often it’s preceded by This is a work of fiction . See, this is what you slap before you defame someone, so that they have a harder time suing you for the publication.”

“I’ve seen that in movies, sir!” Algie exclaimed, too excited to wait for Mr. Galloway to acknowledge his raised hand. “It’s in a whole lot of them!”

“Uh-huh…” Jimmy smirked at us nerds, probably at Algie, but at the moment it felt like he was looking into my very soul. “What if it’s not coincidental at all?”

Galloway shook his hands. “Oh it doesn’t matter, James, just put it on there so that Mr. Hattrick can be more upset about it.”

“Mr. Hattrick? I never said his name, did I?”

Galloway had another laugh at Jimmy playing dumb. He stashed the bottle he had hidden behind the desk, locking that cabinet. Then he pointed to me and Jimmy, with two fingers on the same hand.

“But sure, let me just dash down to the teacher’s lounge to make a copy for both of you and-”

The bell rang. In my English notes I had written down the disclaimer as if my life depended on it. All the other students got up, rushing out of the classroom. It took me a while to reunite my soul with my body, having lived through a near death experience like those odd few minutes had been.

“Wowie, that was really close, wasn’t it?” Algie said, nasal pitch whining.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” I hurried to gather my things.

“I mean, Jimmy nearly heard about how you write-”

“HUSH, Algie!” Donald hissed, motioning that we were still surrounded by people. “Don’t blow her cover, you idiot!”

The two of them descended into some banter about being or not being idiots, which I was too disassociated to hear. In my head Jimmy did hear about me writing Gary Smith’s semen into his mouth. The mix of emotions left me poisoned, about to feel actually or psychosomatically nauseous, so I mumbled under my breath:

“I should go.”

“Yes!” Exclaimed Algie, overjoyed that I had agreed with his side of the argument I never heard. “You should go and talk to him! Thank him for covering for you. That’s the least suspicious thing to do in this situation!”

Donald grumbled in begrudging defeat, probably conjuring up a new grudge against Algie, too stubborn to fight back when Algie physically pushed me through the crowd to catch up to Hopkins himself. 

“Do it for Arnold!” He whispered to me. Truth to be told, for a moment I didn’t even connect that name to my unborn son, that fictional child of mine having been dearly abandoned.

I had a choice in this turn of events: 1) Succumb to my delusions and run from Jimmy like the criminal I was or 2) Face Jimmy like a liar, knowing that in truth he didn’t know about my crimes.

“Hey.” Jimmy said, somewhat flirtatious. He didn’t appear to mind that I chased after him, propelled by the power of friendship. My booster rocket hurried to disappear into the crowds, giving me and Jimmy some relative alone time by the lockers.

“Hey…” I said, trying to be flirtatious back. Option 2) was my only option now. “Thanks for… Taking ‘the heat’ off me earlier? Is that how you say it?”

“Sure is!” he chuckled. “Just keep the slang casual, don’t overdo it.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about” Poor linguistic practices sometimes spread in the library like the flu. I like to think I’m vaccinated. Using normal words, I reiterated. “I mean it though… Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jimmy leaned on a locker. “You looked real uncomfortable.”

“I was.” I admitted in full truth. My inability to meet his eyes, as well as a light blush, ratted me out. It both pained me and saved me that people were still perceiving me as my nursery day’s author.

“Is the story about me?”

“... That would be entirely coincidental.”

He laughed. “Sure, sure. I still remember when I had to get your diary back. You haven’t needed help with that recently, right?”

“Oh, I don’t write any such things in my diary. I mostly fantasise, freeform. Nobody can steal that.” My freeform lies kept flying. “When I asked Mr. Galloway for help it was more of a plot-doctoring attempt. I haven’t actually written a story down or anything!”

“Well shoot… I guess it’s up to me to win that competition then. Would you do that ghost writing thing with me?”

“Me? Ghost write - for you?” I gasped.

“Yeah? Isn’t that when I sit and talk, and you write down what I say?”

“No, that would be you dictating to me. It’s a different thing. If I was a ghost writer, I would take your idea and add my own story around that and-”

Jimmy took a step into my personal space, shutting me up from his mere sexual presence.

“What if I’m just looking for a reason to spend time with you?”

So we made out. I write it this bluntly, because it started as the most blunt and dry make out session I’ve ever had with Jimmy. He was just like always, but I felt… Wrong. I couldn’t relax and think about what I was doing. I thought about Zoe. How they had broken up. I thought about Mandy, and how she had also broken up, but with Ted. Would Mandy and Jimmy become the next item? What about Gary Smith?

And that’s when it happened. Halfway through the sloppy kisses I became the other woman. I vividly imagined that Jimmy didn’t mean any of these kisses, or how he imagined kissing Gary instead, turning myself into a vessel for him to both betray me and do exactly what Gary told him to? I don’t know if my brain imagined my body as my own or Gary’s, but whatever it was, it worked . I felt really excited from barely anything!

My knees nearly gave way when we parted. Jimmy didn’t notice all of my arousal, but he noticed enough to smirk at me in that smug way that would drive Gary insane. That association only made it worse.

“If…” I escaped my sluggish haze by lighting up like a firecracker. “If the goal is to have physical intimacy, I don’t see why writing a story needs to be the excuse! Just tell me when you want, and we can keep practising kissing like this, okay?”

“Okay, no need to be mad.”

“I’m not mad- Oooh, I can’t waste too much time dating, okay? I have so much homework to do!”

“See you later!”

“You will!”

Jimmy was still smiling when I stormed off. I headed straight for the bathrooms. The stall door wasn’t much, but it was the best chance I had for privacy. I desperately needed privacy to deal with my sudden revelation that I might like being cuckolded for lack of a better word, I’ve looked it up since then. At the time, without a concept to lean on, I put my pen to paper to express a smidge of what I had imagined.

“I think it’s working.” Jimmy muses, looking at the ceiling. They were in his dorm room. It was risky, but all too convenient.

“Hmm?” Gary, resting on his chest to have his hair petted, gives a mildly interested glance.

“Your plan.”

“Oh!” He jolts up a little, now at full attention. “Do tell me about it.”

Jimmy presses a quick peck to Gary’s forehead, a quick commercial break, before actually saying what Gary wants to hear.

“Me going around and kissing everyone. Like, nobody suspects a thing, I’m sure of it. Everyone else treats me just like normal, even if you’re back.”

“You think so?”

“Don’t make me doubt myself, man.” Jimmy groans. “I always thought the people I kiss would be able to tell but… I don’t know, they just don’t, and it’s kind of stressing me out?!”

“Be able to tell what?”

“That I… Always think about you.”

Gary lets out a flattered chuckle. He is smouldering from pride that this stupid oaf of his was exactly that, his . Gary shifts in bed so that he is resting on Jimmy’s shoulder. There he takes to the art of whispering in someone’s ear seductively, despite speaking evil.

“Do you feel bad?”

“Ssshh- shut up.”

“Would it hurt their little feelings if they knew?” Gary enjoys the sound of his own voice. “I say good! Let them be hurt. None of them understand what we have. Nothing they feel could come close to us…”

Jimmy pets Gary’s head, trying to calm his positively machiavellian boyfriend. At another angle, Gary is acting just like a teenage girl in his conviction that their love is unlike any other. But Jimmy’s own teenage heart wants to believe that too. Only it wants to care for other hearts also.

“They won’t know.” He says. “I don’t want to hurt them. It would hurt us.”

“Fine!” Gary groans. He rolls away, until a perfect retort has him rolling back to Jimmy’s ear. “But what if they’re doing the same?”

“What?”

“What if they also think about somebody else?”

“Wuh-?” 

Jimmy sounds like he didn’t get it, but he gets it. Just slower, and more viscerally. Gary can see the dots connecting in his little eyes. All Gary has to do is lead the way for Jimmy’s expanding mind to follow.

“Who do you think thinks of who? Does Trent dream of Kirby?”

“Pfff- maybe? I’m a poor substitute for those hunks of junk though. I’m too short.”

“Does that ever stop you?” Gary quirks an eyebrow. “My build is pretty specific, but you think of me even when there’s a hot girl pressed up against you...”

This only reminds Jimmy how this current position did have a hot Gary pressed up against him. Gary’s hand on his stomach is close enough to dream of it drifting lower. Jimmy is getting into it physically, even if their conversation keeps spinning.

“‘Kay, you have a point… Lola could be thinking of literally whoever. Half of town.”

“All at once? What a dirty mind you have, Hopkins.”

“I didn’t say that- Nevermind. Don’t change, Gary.”

“As if I ever would.”

They kissed. Deep enough for their tongues to meet. Not deep enough for their minds to wander. Gary’s at least. Jimmy was drifting, eyes becoming heavy lidded with love.

“What about Beatrice?”

“Bea? She’s crazy about me.”

“What if she’s not?”

“Huh… I don’t know. She hasn’t shown interest in anyone.” Jimmy furrowed his brows. “What if she thinks about us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jimmy-boy.” There was a dangerous glint in Gary’s eyes. “Think outside the box. Who would be the most forbidden person for her to desire? Someone close, but yet so far away?”

“

I know I wrote the first citation mark, but I couldn’t bear putting the five letters to the page. My fake Gary was misbehaving again, and this didn’t turn me on. It made me feel such utter and helpless shame. It felt wrong to fetishize two boys, only for them in turn to fetishize me back? Jimmy suggesting the truth was truly me trying to turn Gary away from what he knew better than I did. It’s all the fault of those cursed pine trees.

Chapter Text

I did genuinely and earnestly consider putting the “all persons fictitious” disclaimer in my physics textbook. That chaotic lesson actually taught me something, but it was a tough choice whether or not I ought to label my own work as such. Nobody includes a copyright mention when they doodle song lyrics in the margin or on the actual desk they’re writing on. I decided at the end of the day that this was a similar thing.

If I was to ever rename these two, Jumbo and Geralt perhaps, and tried to get it published as an original romance, then I would of course use the disclaimer. Nobody at Bullworth should have an easy time suing me for libel! However, my writing was not meant to be published. That was the entire point. I wrote this for fun, to never ever show a single soul. Therefore, the disclaimer stayed in my English notes, unused.

(There is a bit of poetic justice that I have included a parody of it at the beginning of this chronicle, but that's such a Beatrice joke for me to laugh at by my lonesome.)

I actually fancy myself quite good at keeping secrets. Especially girly secrets, if I may be so bold! Thanks to having mostly guy friends, I am never tempted to gossip in that girly way that girls do, whereupon the most feminine secrets stay safely locked within my heart. The fact that I write smut? Girly secret! Mandy's eating disorder? Sadly a gendered piece of information. My complicating feelings towards Mandy at all? Exceptionally girly! It was so much easier when she was just a bitch…

Before she and I got to talking, the only threat to my tight lips was my diary getting stolen. See, Mandy is a gossip master compared to me. It's sort of how an experienced dancer can lead a newbie through whatever social tango they want. Worst of all, she makes it feel fun! Cha-cha-cha, and oops, I've spilled a secret!

Even though these moments occur hardly ever, it's a steep change from the usual never. One of these evenings I dropped two things in one conversation, which I'm honestly both happy and sad about? At the moment of talking, I only cared about her being happy. 

She was in a good mood, lounging on her bed and painting her nails, both fingers and toes. I was sitting at my desk, supposed to study maths, but her cheerful chatter had me turned around in my chair to listen to her instead, my graph paper virtually untouched.

"... and so I told him like EW, no, I've had enough of stinking football socks! Damon was like, super hurt, lmao [yes she said that out loud] all because he had dared ask me out even though Ted is still being all upset, you know? So he had me basically spell it out for him that I'm not gonna date another jock like ever! "

"Wow…" I gasped, admittedly wowed by her fierce spirit of daring to belittle every man who cared about her, while still cheering on the same field. "Did people hear this?"

"Yup!" She giggled, leaned so cutely on her knee. She somehow made a toe-spreader look fashionable, polish half done. "Lefty actually shouted 'oi, do you mind the smell of Grease, baby?' and I swear, I gave him like, a sexy look that would put Lola to shame!"

I didn't know what to say to that, but apparently my face showed enough curiosity to spark her show-biz love for attention. She dramatically turned her face away from me, and boom, flashed back with a true seductress' smirk. My heart leapt. To mask that panic, I convulsed in nervous giggles. She took it like any applause, showering in pretend roses, blowing kisses about the room.

"I have chemistry class with Lola, and yes, you're certainly on her level- or beyond!" I said, finally, collected enough to tell when she wanted to be praised more. After years of hating her expressions, I was now thankful that they were so easy to read. "How'd they take it?"

"Howling!" Mandy beamed. With a shrewder look at her nails she elaborated: "but their reaction doesn't matter as much as the jocks reaction to their reaction. They got super owned, for reals."

I nodded. Mumbled "wish I had been there", but it didn't matter if Mandy heard it. She was on a roll.

"The worst thing about dating a football monkey as a cheerleader is how they think you're like, gonna like them more if they play well? Ted was always so annoying whenever the team lost, but almost more so when we won? He was all like, oh my god babe, you're falling for me all over again, huh? Just because I was smiling instead of scowling? Bitch, have you considered how boring it is to cheer for a team that's eating ass on the field?! When they actually had good game, we could cheer with more like, real power, and that's what I cared about. I cared about my sport, cheerleading, not about whatever guy I was snogging!"

"I understand!" I hurried to agree. She had already indoctrinated me in the sanctity of cheerleading as a separate sport, not just window dressing to football. "His line of thought is entirely illogical, and dare I say, self centred!"

"Centred around his stupid dick, is what it is!" She laughed. I couldn't laugh as hard, but I tried to tag along. "Ted can cry all he wants when I date a greaser next. It isn't gonna bring me back, ever!"

Here's where I fumbled my first secret.

"What about a nerd?"

"Huh?" Mandy too fumbled her carefree demeanour, and got a little too serious a bit too fast. "Who are you talking about?"

"Oh, uhm, my friend Cornelius has a crush on you."

"... Literally who?"

"Our shakespearian Juliet, skinny with glasses, uh, I mean, he's African American…"

"Oh, the black guy?" She seemed genuinely disappointed. "Sorry, he's already shot his shot and blew it, thanks to Shakespeare I guess."

"... When?"

"Valentine's day last year." She sighed. "He was one of my 'anonymous' chocolates, but the guy wrote a whole sonnet. Nobody but him would do that. It talked more about my body than I thought you could in such few words. I threw it in the trash, like most everything else."

"The chocolates too?"

"Hah, sort of. Just bulimia things, okay?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't think about that, I shouldn't have asked!"

"You're okay, Bea." She smiled at me, much too warm and soft in the light from her bedside table. "If I ever date a nerd they have to be hot and cute, and like, care about my personality more than my tits."

In hindsight, this was such a flirtatious thing to say while looking directly into my eyes. Please future me, forgive the naivete of your past self as I forgive her in turn. Blind as a bat in the headlights of her face, I didn't catch on.

"The bar for love truly is on the floor when it comes to men, isn't it?" I hugged my own chest tighter to the back of the chair. "I dress modestly compared to you, but sometimes guys just stare."

"Stare at them back!" She jeered, dodging away from her failed flirtation with grace. "Guys can have nice tits too!"

We giggled about that. She studied me, before suggesting:

"Are you thinking about Jimmy?"

"Are YOU thinking about Jimmy?" I retorted, because let's face it, so many punches and so on has given him good tits.

"Maybe?" She shrugged. "They're alright I guess, but it's hard to date a guy with a girlfriend who likes to fight. You're brave, because Zoe would super mop the floor with you."

Like soap out of my hand, the second secret.

"Actually…" I scooted my chair just a bit closer. "She told me something when we were paired up for the trash competition."

Mandy listened to me with 120% of her attention. This is what makes gossiping so addictive! It makes people care!

"Zoe and Jimmy… they're just friends now. They have officially broken up since summer, except they haven't told anyone!"

"Oh. My. God."

"I know! Don't tell anyone I told you, I felt like she told me in confidence, but I just wanted you to know."

Mandy flopped onto her bed, her nail polish apparently dry enough to be slightly careless. There was an air of disappointment to her again, beyond the awe in her voice.

"This changes everything for you."

"For me? What about you?"

"Bea." She rolled over to her side, facing me with more gravity than that which affected her breasts in her pyjama top. "I know you're like, obsessed with him. I've read your diary."

I'm certain she expected me to blow up in rage, so I was not surprised at her surprise when I took the confession in stride.

"I expected as much. I don't actually write my diary like a normal diary anymore, since it has gotten stolen so frequently."

"W-wuh-?" She got very flustered. "I haven't done it recently! But like, last year, when everything was going on- ALSO I didn't steal it , I just read it and left it back where I found it!"

"Like a library book."

She groaned in embarrassment, head in her pillow.

"You're such a dork… But I'm sorry, okay?"

"I forgive you."

She cringed, seemingly less able to forgive herself than I was able to forgive her.

"Still… You like Jimmy."

"Yeah…" I twisted a bit in my seat. "Things have been a bit different recently though."

"How come?"

"That's a secret." Somehow this rejection made us exchange meaningful glances. I picked up my pillow and threw it at her. "And you won't find out by reading my diary!"

She caught my geeky throw, smashing the soft object back into my mattress with more impressive strength than I expected. Her idea of playful was more violent than mine.

"I saw you making out last week!'

"So what? You made out with him in the middle of the school yard earlier this term!"

"Oh then?" I recognized her mocking laughter. "I was just trying to make Ted jealous! I guess I didn't need to, huh?"

At the time we dissolved into more giggles and laughter, a thing that had become way more common after so many evenings of talking. I wanted to include our girly gossip thus far because it spilled all my secrets and revealed something I find curious. That long kiss between Jimmy and Mandy which sparked this whole tale had nothing to do with them, or me. The fact that their little collision, all in Mandy's narrative of her soon to be ex, had started my shift away from Jimmy as an ideal partner… It both fascinates and horrifies me!

But fate works in mysterious ways.

A morning not too long after, ‘James Hopkins’ was called into the principal's office. Miss Danvers voice over the PA system had an air of ceremony. It was on one of those days when they round up all the students in the auditorium for big general announcements. When I filed in with my rank of nerds I looked for Jimmy, but couldn't find him. It got to the point when Earnest had to remind me to straighten my posture, still intent on impressing the faculty into becoming school president through ill-democratic means. I straightened my back. Somehow I already nursed a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

After a couple of routine announcements, both football recently won and the upcoming maths competition we had qualified for, Dr. Crabblesnitch himself took the stage. He leaned with a steady grip on both sides of the wooden podium, assuming an authoritarian air that made Earnest’s eyes sparkle.

"Now, dear students, I'm afraid this announcement of mine will be a bit alien to any of our first years. Anyone who attended Bullworth in the tumultuous year past, however, I am telling you this because I want you all to be on your best behaviour."

A nervous murmur was already spreading throughout the crowd.

"The previously expelled student Gary Smith will be readmitted to Bullworth as part of his probation from closed care."

That murmur exploded into a shouting cacophony of upset students voicing their protest. Even my friends were standing up, raising their voices, fully abandoning the good-student-schtick that Earnest enforced during announcements. To be fair, Earnest might just have been screeching the loudest of us all.

I was fading into the shadows. I wanted to meld with my chair and disappear. I wanted to have all my writing undone, so that I could take this announcement with normal dread instead of my odd premonition eating me alive. I had done it again. I never meant to, but I had done it again!

Dr. Crabblesnitch raised one finger, and by his dark arts, the room temporarily went silent.

“I hear you, children. I am one of you. May I remind you that he fooled me too, with his silken words and his grandiose schemes?” He took a dramatic pause, and to his credit, nobody filled it with any sort of retort. “Grand as they may have been, they are a thing of the past. I have been told that young Gary has made great strides in his therapy. He is at the end of the day nothing but a boy in high-school. Until he proves me wrong, I want to trust the doctors.”

“What about Jimmy?”

Everyone turned to the back of the auditorium. Russel was the one who had spoken up. The giant of a highschool student stood out, even when most everyone was standing up. He didn’t seem to care for propriety or speaking order, fully capable of sounding loud in the large room without any type of loudspeaker. While other clique leaders were tentative to take that step first out of everyone, Russel spoke out for his friend without hesitation. 

“James Hopkins, who has the most history with Gary…” Dr. Crabblesnitch appeared malignant to me when he chose these next words. “He is reflecting over Gary’s upcoming return in my office. As a gesture of goodwill, I told him in private. He took the news well.”

“Bullshit!” Although still seated in the shadows, everyone knew Johnny Vincent’s voice.

“I swear on my honour as your principal that it is the truth, and nothing but.”

“Hah!” laughed Derby, apparently much too aware of how little honour Dr. Crabblesnitch ought to have left after walking on all fours for the Harrington house. That is however not an open secret, despite what anyone may think. To cover up for this outburst in comedy, Derby haughtily pointed out: “Gary Smith nearly killed Jimmy.”

“Far too many of you students nearly die every day, yet you never notice.” Crabblesnitch bit back, powered by the microphone. “Whether it’s incessant fighting, swimming in the sea or careless cycling through traffic - There are countless opportunities to die everywhere. I do follow your reason that this may have been a special case since it was from one deliberate student’s hand to the other. However, I wish you to see my reason: Gary Smith is better now and will not pull any sort of scheme under the watchful eye of both school faculty and Happy Volts personnel.”

The murmur made rings on the auditory water in the room. The one to burst out of this, by properly raising a hand and addressing the headmaster, was not the one usually befitting such verbs or adjectives.

“Yes, Mr school president?” Crabblesnitch gave the word.

“Uhm, so-” Ted shouted, somewhat scared. “Will there be psychos in class with us? Like, many of them? Because I don’t wanna go to school with Happy Volts people.”

I could pick out Mandy’s giggle from the crowd of laughter. Our principal didn’t attempt to hide his disappointment as he facepalmed.

“No, that’s not what I meant, Ted.” he explained. “Gary Smith will have one orderly walk with him in the beginning. If that goes well, he will become like any other student. He will still attend therapy, that’s what I was referring to. This is probation, not release from his care at the hospital.”

Somewhere among the noise Ted let out a relieved “oh, okay” and that appeared to be the end of that. At this point almost every single clique leader had said something, so us nerds were turned towards Earnest. On que he stood up to raise his hand like Ted. He got the word with, no title.

"Why Bullworth Academy? Couldn't he be sent to another school?"

"Excellent question, Jones. See, the reason is because of his treatment. I've been told it would undo leaps of progress to send him away from his current therapist. Therefore he's staying in Bullworth, and will attempt to finish high school here."

As horrible as it was, it made sense. Earnest didn't raise any follow up questions. He was much too busy chewing his thumb and staring out into nothing. I can only assume he was afraid, like me, and trying to scheme ahead of Gary Smith in a desperate attempt to stay safe or sane.

“I would say to treat Gary Smith like any other student…” Crabblesnitch frowned. “But I will not. He is not like any other student. It would be best for the school body en masse to avoid him. Listen to me carefully now, children… You do not have the privilege to undo months of therapy because you feel like it. Leave him alone .”

That concluded the school announcements. Even though us nerds were sitting in the front rows, we slipped through the sea of students fast, all of us wordlessly heading for the library. Tension was high all throughout Bullworth Academy, but something within us didn’t feel safe voicing our concerns where others were. It’s as if only our own territory had the space we needed to breathe and worry, together.

I wasn’t able to participate in the first bout of chatter, still shaken to my core in fright, but I more or less came to when Earnest took the word.

“Compadres… We have to stay vigilant. Our plans may change, and I’m open for suggestions, but hear my order: None of us will under any circumstances approach Gary Smith! If he approaches one of us, run!” Framed within his glasses was a trauma of shame. “He has the devil’s tongue, capable of tricking us to any end of the earth. We can not have it happen again. Therefore! Stay away from Smith! Who’s with me?”

“I am!” I cheered, with a cheer as buckled and pathetic as a crunched up soda can. My agreement had been a little too loud, a little too soon. Nobody else had any other ideas, so the focus shifted to me, how pale I was, and how much I was shaking. Of course I didn’t tell them the truth, but I reiterated what I had seen during the riots. My biased fear that Gary had been behind the riot was judged plausible. My friends closed around the square library tables, making them round in spirit as we valiantly tried to plan our future.

Throughout it, I got a lot of support. All of them told me such comforting words. Some even patted my back or held my hands. “Jimmy is going to be okay” they promised. I didn’t mind the misunderstanding. Nobody but me understood the terror of accidental foresight, wrapped in smut and fiction.

Just like nobody understood what the real Gary Smith was doing. His probation was entirely in his design, as I would soon have the privilege to understand.

Chapter Text

Jimmy's whereabouts the day they told us remains a mystery to me still. All throughout the afternoon everyone was convinced that he was locked inside the principal's office, but by evening time a rumour went around that he had broken out through the window. It is no secret that Jimmy knows how to pick locks, so I deem it entirely plausible that he escaped within ten minutes of entrapment. Wherever he went, nobody found him.

The very next day he was walking the school grounds like nothing had happened. Strange enough, whenever anyone talked to him about Gary's return he was on Crabblesnitch's side. He actually urged people to leave Gary alone or just outright ignore him! These messages from the campus king spread, but obviously took hold differently for each clique.

All of last year's stories were being torn open like old scabs. Mostly it was first year students who wanted some context as to why everyone else was so on edge. I kept my mouth shut, but many of the nerds virtually preached the horror of potential werewolf Gary Smith to anyone who might ask. I softly confronted Melvin to ask if he wasn't laying it on a little bit too thick. He replied with a spiel of how it's good to mix the border between truth and untruth to make a greater mythology in order to police the behaviour of children. I understood the part about fairy tales having a moral purpose, but not the motivation to turn Gary into Bullworth's boogeyman.

It just didn't sit right with me. I don't know who I was defending. The first years? My fake Gary? The real Gary?

The real Gary couldn't care less. He strolled back into our life in the same old uniform, with the same old air of superiority. Something about the way he strode through the corridors, sat in classes, just all of his persona aura - it managed to make his psych orderly appear like a bodyguard to a dynasty heir. Crowds parted where they went.

Like any true highschool drama, the first battleground he had to conquer was the cafeteria. Him and his orderly came in, were both served Edna's slop, and went immediately into action. I'm certain of it that it was planned! Out of all the clique tables, he went for the bottom on the totem pole, us nerds!

The moment he touched our table we all made a coordinated retreat. No words spoken, we took to the floor like frightened birds, lunch trays between our wings. Gary appeared mildly entertained. Him and his orderly sat at our now empty table, amicably chatting as far as I could tell. He looked so normal.

I spent that lunch on a non clique table with some young students. Not all nerds could fit in that safe harbour, and were forced to sit with others. Cornelius took Thad in tow to the cheerleaders' table. I didn't hear them, but from body language alone I can only assume there will be no need for me to break it to Cornelius that he doesn't have a chance with Mandy. She could act as her own first hand source for that.

(He was a bit heartbroken, sure. I'm just glad I had no official involvement.)

From my vantage point, I kept a close look on Jimmy. He was with the Bullies. Whatever they were talking about it seemed like a lot of fun. Jimmy never spared Gary as much as a glance. As much as I dared to look Gary's way, I don't think he did for Jimmy either.

The second day was curious however. Jimmy didn't sit at the bullies table, but at the greasers. Gary waltzed in, making all of us nerds tense, but skipped us entirely. He took the one step up in the hierarchy, sitting down right among the bullies. Most of them groaned and sauntered off, but not Russel. That boy was too busy eating to care to move. Most everyone in the cafeteria stared with no abandon at this casual lunch between a fuse and a bomb. Russel speaks quite loudly, so I heard a lot of what he said, but I don't find it important enough to write down. Their lunch chat was normal. Russel and Gary's orderly even got along great.

I looked at Jimmy holding court by the greasers, doing his darndest to keep them entertained enough to not look at Gary. While I had yet again promised not to write more, that night I got completely possessed and produced this:

"Do you think it's working? Am I doing enough?"

"You're doing great, Jimmy." Gary leans down to kiss Jimmy's lips. "Nobody has any idea that we're working together."

They are hiding on the back side of the gym, a spot usually reserved for Jocks and their gals. With a shortage of gals, recently the dead alley had been left abandoned enough for them to use. It has enough escape routes to get away, should anyone walk in on Jimmy and Gary entangled against the brick wall.

"Can we do it though?" Jimmy begs, looking up at Gary with barely contained lust. "I really really want to."

"Fine." There is no use hiding his smirk, not when his boyfriend is this cute. "But you know this is as close as you're gonna get."

Gary unbuckles his pants. In one fell swoop he pulls down both those and his underwear. Not yet erect, all attention is drawn to his pale thighs in the night. Stepping about, he keeps the pants around his knees, for easy escape should anyone interrupt them. Then he turns around and grabs at the wall. Jimmy shudders at the view of… Everything.

"I don't know. I've got time." He rubs his hard cock. "Once you do me and see how I like it, you might just change your mind."

"Whatever, Hopkins, just get the lube."

The silly little packet is ripped open. Cold and slick, the gel is gently poured where it needs to be. Jimmy rubs it in with his fingers, careful to not spook the already tense Gary. Jimmy positions himself, leaning against the back of a school uniform he has longed to breathe in.

But it's not doing much for him.

"Gary, put your legs together."

"No."

"How am I supposed to fuck your thighs if you keep them spread?"

"But if I put them together I'll drop my pants!" Gary protests, way more flustered than he thought he would be. "I can't explain those stains!"

"God damnit-"

Jimmy makes a fast decision, dropping into a crouch. By Gary's knees he reaches around for the open front of the pants. Much faster than Gary has a chance to stop, he tightens the belt. This forces the legs shut by restricting their movement. Jimmy presses back in between them, melting into the tight stimulation.

"Fuck." Gary gasps, realising after a slight struggle how stuck he is. "Jimmy, Jimmy stop, we can't- I can't run like this!"

"I'll carry you." Jimmy promises. He's drunk on lust, the warmth of that making his voice silky smooth.

"You idiot, that's- Ahn!"

"You're getting hard. Should we do more bondage?"

"You're next." He threatens through grit teeth. Jimmy's hand on his cock is becoming a bit too skilled where it was previously not. The residue lube is another sensation Gary has yet to grow used to. "Someday I'll show you, Jimmy."

"Yes, show me, please!"

No threats could sway Jimmy from getting off. Face buried in Gary's back, he humps into Gary with reckless abandon. Out front, a hand jerks off his lover at a completely different pace. Both of them gasp in tandem. The spot is private, but not private enough to let their voices out.

But the tickle of a threat is nonetheless there. All of their work stands like a jenga tower. The little force needed to topple it all is for someone, anyone to walk in on them, sworn enemies, doing the nasty with each others bodies, for everything to be over. Gary feels this threat loom over him. In spite of it, he doesn't look. Because of it, he leans into the danger, closes his eyes, and cums.

The sperm sticks to the brick wall. Jimmy holds him steady throughout it, catching the last weak drops of it on his hand. Spurred on by Gary's near escaped moans, shivering body and out of breath sighs, he is getting close. To get rid of the evidence he quickly licks his hand dry, almost reverent when it comes to drinking Gary’s seed. Then he grabs ahold of Gary's hips, right under the shirt and sweater vest. Somehow the sensation of this fabric reminds him how it's all branded in the school logo. Branded with their fate. Jimmy thinks about fucking the system, literally, for one abstract moment. Then he groans a little too loud, holds Gary's hips as close as he can, and spills himself all over the wall as well. The smell and warmth of Gary is all he wants.

As funny stories would have it, both of their semen hit the same part of the wall. Mingled in with the stains of countless jock children, unborn, Jimmy and Gary's DNA write a silent message of their love, for no one to ever read.

"Kneel."

Jimmy sinks to his knees, unafraid of any sorts of filth on his pants. It's part of his image. What isn't is gently kissing Gary's thighs while loosening the belt that trapped him. Gary turns around and leads those kisses to lap up the seed that dribbled from Jimmy’s own deed. 

"You keep getting away with this." He states more than says. Jimmy glances up at him mischievously, before cleaning Gary's cock with his tongue. Gary shudders.

"Well…" Jimmy wipes his mouth while he swallows. "So do you?"

"Sure. Partners in crime." One low familiar chuckle. "We will fool them all, just you watch."

After rereading, and admittedly desperately masturbating to this piece, I was finding new patterns in my writing. This BDSM flavour that I introduced on a circumstantial whim hearkens back to when I was the fictional object of affection for fake Jimmy. Part of me wonders still if I wanted to be Gary in these situations. The best argument I have for the opposite is that if I ever tried to focus my imagination into first person like that it always drifts out to third. My sexual fantasies about these boys were tied to a level of cuckoldry and voyeurism that I didn't know I had in me.

This piece also proved to take a stand for all pieces that are to follow it. No matter if I wrote this on a deserted island or right next to Gary Smith, I wanted to write them. Fear of discovery only made it more exciting, with the caveat that I didn't want to get discovered. It's the near miss that makes my heart race, while the clear hit makes my heart bleed. One reigns supreme.

I never did have a chance to write anything right next to Gary, of course. Due to him not completing his school year prior he had ended up in the same seat as Zoe, repeating a year. Rumor said that Gary and her talk a lot between or during lessons, but that he doesn't like her. My interpretation is that he does like her. Fake Gary and real Gary are not the same, but I do recognise that insistent mockery and teasing is a way that he expresses kinship and intimacy. I kept these theories very secret, not wanting to admit that I have a deeper grasp on his personality than what's normal.

But I was right about a previous theory! The coming days in the cafeteria he kept climbing the social hierarchy, one step behind Jimmy at all times. Gary at the greasers, Jimmy by the preps. The greasers were generally hostile, so that wasn't a good day for the poor orderly who had to sit there in awkward silence. It only got worse after the man tried to amicably "remember" Johnny Vincent from his incarceration.

Gary had a much better time at the preps table. They were seemingly full of smiles and pleasant chatter. Knowing them it was probably just to size Gary up again, and to get the feel if he's still bad or whatever. That day I actually noticed Jimmy glancing over at Gary from the jock's table.

But the jocks were not kind to Gary. Sure, they didn't insult or belittle him, but they annoyed him to his wits end. They had a thousand stupid questions about Happy Volts. All of Gary's answers led to more questions, all at once. After much longer of this than anyone would have bet, Gary stood up.

"I am removing myself from this situation." He announced, visibly agitated behind a fake smile. "Thank you for your company."

Food half eaten and thrown in the trash, Gary left lunch early. Jimmy was by our table, since hierarchy hopping inevitably makes your totem pole a circle. He properly followed Gary with his eyes the entire time as Gary walked away. I read way too much into that at the time.

"Wow…" Fatty was in awe. "So he has been to therapy!"

Jimmy chortled at that a little too hard in my opinion. Luckily, my friends carried the conversation.

"What makes you say that?" Asked Algie. "He got super mad, didn't he? He stormed out!"

"Probably plotting revenge right now." Said Donald. "That's Gary Smith."

"No!" Fatty took a firm grip of his left boob. "My heart knows he's not. The Gary that we knew would stay with the roid-monkeys, teaching them falsehoods and fake news, all to amuse himself. He removed himself from a situation that didn't suit his new self!"

"Stunning defence of the enemy" Earnest muttered. Him and Melvin were speeding through their lunch set of chess, and Earnest was losing.

"I'm sensitive, okay?" Fatty insisted. "What do you think, Beatrice? Since you're a girl?"

"What does being a girl have to do with going to therapy?" I excused.

"Yeah, that makes no sense." Jimmy agreed. "Should ask me instead, Fatty."

"Oh do tell!" Melvin burst out, moving a piece on the board. "I was avoiding the subject, but I'd rather hear it straight from James Hopkins himself. Do you think Gary is better? Check, by the way."

Earnest let out a hot kettle's worth of spittle and swears under his breath, obviously played into a corner. Jimmy ignored this white noise.

"I mean, maybe? It's hard to tell with that orderly he's got like a ball and chain around his foot." Jimmy leaned back in thought. "Still, the bar is below the floor. As long as he doesn't make me public enemy number one or shove me off a roof he's technically 'better', ya know?"

"Everything is relative." Melvin agreed in a slow philosophical drawl.

"W-what's gonna happen when the orderly isn't there?" 

"Beats me, Algie."

"Oh dear. My mom will hear all about this."

"We have to be prepared." Donald hiss-whispered. "Don't you agree, Earnest?"

"Shshhsjdjd- Not now Donald! I'm busy!"

"Check."

"Damnit!"

"Speaking of preparation," Melvin proudly proclaimed. "I have submitted our chosen team for Mr. Hattrick to send to the Maths Competition."

Everyone but me cheered up a little. Cornelius was doing maths in silence among us, but he lifted his pen to do a little fist pump. Algie forgot about his fear of Gary in a heartbeat, clapping his hands in excitement.

"Oh I'm so excited to go, you guys!"

"Mr. Hattrick did question our lineup, but after a successful charisma check he saw your reasoning, Beatrice."

I nodded, more melancholic about it.

"Yes. It's just the right thing to do. You have fun for me, okay Algie?"

"Yo, whose funeral are you going to?" Jimmy asked.

"No, no, it's just…"

Earnest used the opportunity to think of anything besides chess.

"You see Jimmy, this particular competition runs in teams of six. Since we won last year it is in our best interest to send our best of the best, and sadly, Beatrice's grades have slipped below Algie's."

"Oh, shit."

I tried turning away in shame. I knew maths was one of the few subjects which I had severely started lacking in due to my writing. For me to face this while literally facing Jimmy was too much. Especially when he looked at me with such care that would have made my past self melt. Now I burned!

"How bad is it?"

"B+!" I whined. "I've lost my A, and it's so embarrassing! I really can't focus on the competition, or even compete with grace if I know I have regular studying to catch up with!"

"... You guys are a fucking nerds, you know that right?"

"Sure we do!" An outburst from Fatty. "I'm not good enough at maths either, but I'm mourning the fact that we will lose a full session of Grottos and Gremlins when everyone but me, Bea and Bucky are away competing!"

"Aye, my friend." Melvin mourned too. "Rest assured that no real time will pass for our characters, at least."

Bucky both crossed his arms and puffed his chest, which looked rather stupid.

"We should do something fun that weekend. To make up for these bozos not being around."

"Of course you would say that." Said Thad. "Your grades are horrible. You're having too much fun!"

"I just wanna go to the carnival, okay?!" A light blush spread on his face. "With Beatrice! … And Fatty!"

It was so obvious that I even felt bad for him. I'm sure he saw me as a damsel in sad distress, needing a date to be cheered up. Luckily for Bucky, while the brunt of us who understood were silently cringing, Fatty kept talking:

"Yes, I mean that would be fun, but all of the rides take two seats at a time. Someone would always be sitting away from the other-"

"Yes, you should, because of weight class. Me and Bea would ride together." Bucky mumbled into his collar.

"I don't know…" I tried to let him down easy. "I really need to stay home and study."

Algie had an idea that lit up his entire face like a light bulb. Overjoyed he leaned over the table, knocking the Chess game to the floor while he was at it.

"Why don't you invite Jimmy? Then you're four!"

Algie also gave me the most obvious slow wink that was negative zero percent subtle. Melvin and Earnest were momentarily upset about their game, but Earnest offered a hand to shake, conceding defeat. They shook it, before both going down on all fours to pick up the pieces.

"Uh, yeah, maybe?" I said on reflex, my flattered smile feeling fake.

"What weight class am I in?" He asked Bucky.

"S-same as Fatty, because of your muscles!" He stuttered back. "So you two would sit together-"

"Uh, why? Isn't it better for the rides to load them evenly?" Smug as ever Jimmy glanced my way. "See, I'm not failing math yet."

"Yes!" Fatty was decided. "I sit with Bucky and Jimmy sits with Beatrice! This is going to be so fun, second only to the Maths Competition!"

"Actually-!" My voice cracked as I spoke up. "I think Thad is right. We should study. I'd love to go, but I wouldn't be able to have fun while worrying about my grades. It's fun to imagine a day at the carnival, but I have to decline."

"Damn…" Jimmy worried about me, I just know it. "This means a lot to you-"

All of this was interrupted by Dan Wilson and Kirby Olsen from the jocks stepping on Earnest and Melvin’s fingers on the floor. The screams of pain were from both weight and the imprinting shape of a chess piece being pushed into their grips. Jimmy stood up in a heartbeat, shoving both jocks away.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?!"

"Gary is mad at us!" Dan huffed. "We figured we should bully some stupid nerds to feel better."

"He's gonna kill us!" Kirby complained.

"No, no, listen here, come with me…"

We nursed our injured while Jimmy nursed the scars in the school's psyche. Melvin got the last triumphant word, although only his friends heard it.

"Those guys should go to therapy."

Chapter Text

The fact that Gary Smith had a good reintroduction to Bullworth was a feat that served to raise the bar to me. I was sure that soon enough someone would target Gary with bullying, only to be then targeted in a revenge so brutal they would both go to hospital, one general, one psychiatric. Instead we made our principal proud. Nobody intended to, I’m sure, but we did!

However, as soon as the orderly was gone, leaving Gary to wander the halls like Moses alone, everyone knew it was a question of time. (Yes, we still parted when he walked. That’s the biblical joke.) Sooner or later, Gary would meet Jimmy. Most students feared it. Others bet on it. The preps had become Gary’s foremost hangout, but that didn’t quell the rumour that they bet on how many months it would take for Gary to get expelled again. The key factor in any such calculation was how he’d treat Jimmy.

Luckily for this chronology, I was present when they had their fateful meeting. Back then I was mostly observing Jimmy and Gary respectfully avoid each other. It made me wonder if it was coordinated together like in my fiction? All such conspiracy theories thrilled me, but appeared much too far-fetched to feel plausible. When they actually met, that opinion changed.

It was lunch hour, late in the break. I had suffered through physical education the hour prior. Since I don’t want to shower when the other girls are there, I usually wait until most of them are done for me to cleanse my teenage sweat. It cuts into my rest and recreation during lunch something awful, but we pick our priorities in this dog eat dog school. This day it instead put me in a wonderfully opportune time and place to be.

Near the fountain a ton of students were mingling. No matter what clique, the fountain is a nice place to be, or at least be near. I was walking slowly, looking around, and that’s why I noticed it before it even truly happened. Jimmy was walking with Zoe from the football field. Gary came skulking from the school, probably heading for the Harrington house. Happening to take the same turn around the fountain, both of them shot the other a look. What a look it was. It happened too fast for me to analyse it properly, but it made me react.

I wasn’t the only one. Other students were catching on before Jimmy had even finished turning around. Slowed in his tracks, he held his arms out and called:

“Hey Gary, I’m sorry, okay?”

Gary halted. Turning with a fluidity I would otherwise describe a snake with, he gave Jimmy a smile far too many of us know far too well.

“Oh? Are you now?” Miniature megaphone, he put his hands around his mouth, acting a fool. “Everyone, look! Jimmy told me he’s sorry! Care to repeat that for the crowd?”

True to his word, a crowd was forming. Enough eyes looking in the same direction made a centre of gravity few could resist. From the rest of the school, and from all three clique territories around the fountain, students seemed to be pooling in to bear witness. Somehow, nobody was shouting. Everyone kept silent to hear everything.

“You know what? Fine.” Jimmy stood resolute. He looked right at Gary, speaking in a serious tone that only bordered on bitterness. “I’m sorry.”

“Ever so eloquent, really. I can tell you mean that.” Gary smirked, sarcastic. “What’s next? Do you want to be friends?”

“I never said that, psycho.”

“Haah… There it is.” sighed Gary, shaking his head. This disappointment was short-lived. Back to his usual mood, he closed in on Jimmy’s personal space. “But I’m happy for you, Jimmy. The feeling is mutual. I never, ever , want anything to do with you.”

To emphasise his final point, he poked at Jimmy’s chest all of three times. This provoked a reaction, Jimmy physically pushing Gary away. I’ve seen the pushes Jimmy can do, and by all means that one was holding back. His irritation was nonetheless blatant.

“Shove it, creep! You’re the one who gave me a funny look.”

Zoe took a step in here, putting her arm across Jimmy’s frame to keep him from doing anything he might regret. Gary didn’t mind, his scarred eyebrow quirked.

“Funny how?”

“Like you’ll set fire to the school because I’m better than you.” Jimmy said, gruff. Then he virtually spat out: “Like before.”

A giggle I can with clear prejudice describe as psychotic bubbled out of Gary.

“You know what I think is funny? How you’re stuck in the past.” He took a big sweep, pointing and addressing the amassing crowd. “You all are! Unlike you pathetic idiots I’ve realised there is a bigger world out there, beyond this sleepy seaside town!”

Riled up, his chest heaving a little in his sweater vest, yes I was looking, he looked sideways at Jimmy and Zoe. I have stood where he stood and pictured it later, and I know that the great height of the main building was framing them both at that moment. He pronounced his speech loud, for absolutely everyone to hear.

“You can keep the school, Jimmy. I’ve already had it. Enjoy my leftovers like you’re enjoying your whore girlfriend.”

Zoe’s fist got shot like a bottle rocket. It was sailing towards Gary, and the crowd gasped. The hero was, as always, Jimmy, who stopped her before it got close enough to connect. She who had stepped in to calm him was now calmed in return. The students around were vibrating in an indiscernible chatter, communicating to those in the far back what had both happened and what had not happened.

Standing proud, even unperturbed, was Gary. He had his back straight, and his hands in his pockets.

“You’re not really sorry Hopkins.” Eyecontact. Intense eye contact. “You want me dead.”

“So what if I do?” Jimmy was so visibly upset. I couldn’t tell if he meant it or not, but he did mean this next line: “I’m not crazy enough to act on it, so could you stop starting shit?”

“Gladly.” Gary shrugged. “I’m just here to graduate.”

His nonchalance didn’t last.

“Bullworth means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me.”

“We get it. Now move along, drama queen.”

Gary was about to say something, but Jimmy was long gone. He was busy herding Zoe to safety, where they could talk this out, most likely. Amazingly, Gary looked to the sky, gave a happy sigh, and walked onwards to his destination. Jimmy had gotten the last word. Old Gary would have never let that happen. The crowd dispersed, and recounts of this confrontation was all the rage for gossip for at least forty eight hours.

So how did this outcome sway me in the opinion that it is possible that the boys are actually cooperating behind the scenes? Well, it's rather simple. The confrontation was too perfect.

The general consensus shifted the chance of Gary getting expelled to near improbability. If he was true to his words, that he didn't care about the school or Jimmy Hopkins, he was rather safe compared to if he was lying. Everyone trusted Jimmy to speak the truth when he said that he wouldn't act on any murderous intent he may harbour, if and when he harboured any. The fact that he had held Zoe back when Gary called her a whore was an act of peacekeeping above what was expected of him (especially since most people were sure she was still his girlfriend). In conclusion, judging from this confrontation we could expect Gary and Jimmy having nothing to do with one another whatsoever for the rest of the school year.

But it didn't sit right with me. I felt certain that Gary wouldn't be so simple. There had to be another layer to it, and my first suggestion was exactly what my somehow clairvoyant mind had been masturbating for months. This public perception was the ideal outcome to have if Gary wanted to hide the fact that he was actually dating Jimmy!

None of my reasoning could quell this theory. However, as always, in my private torture, I couldn't tell anyone. My shame convinced me that I would be thought a deviant if I, out of the blue, suggested that two mortal enemies were secretly doing the homosexual rumba. See? Just suggesting it was bad enough! Nevermind that I had written down extensive fantasies about it! I kept my mouth shut, helpless and isolated in my conviction.

The scene at the fountain made me feel bad for Zoe though. Thanks to my newfound respect for her, I felt like I owed it to make it up to her in my fantasy world. Sometimes when I read this one I find them wildly 'out of character' at the start, but since the original intention was to have no reader but myself I figured it didn't matter.

The full moon makes the night as bright as day to Jimmy. He wanders the beach, eyes on the ground. Every now and then he picks up a suitably flat rock. His stance is as serious as an Olympic athlete. All of his body moves in that graceful yet violent whip that flicks the stone out across the water. His average number of skips is four. His high end is nine. All he's working for is to break ten… Or to just distract his mind from his frustrations.

Jimmy isn't good at waiting. Jimmy is the kind of man who will go out and find you rather than wait for you to turn up. Why order pizza when you could bike off and be your own delivery man? Likewise, if he orders pizza, he might forget about it and be somewhere else when the delivery arrives.

This is one of many points of contention when it comes to dating Gary. Time and time again Jimmy needs to sit on his hands and wait for the time to be right, for Gary to be sure of it, and for Gary to turn up. It's all about Gary. 

Jimmy flicks the rock. It skips four, six, eight… Nine and ten times. He smirks in the moonlight. Eleven is so close that he can feel it at the edge of his fingertips.

The next rock he picks up turns out to be a dud, sinking after only two skips.

"Wow." Calls the voice Jimmy's been waiting to hear, finally there. Gary's walking up towards Jimmy, hands in his pockets. "A high feat of athleticism right there."

"Oh shut up Gary!" Jimmy huffs, taking a new rock in hand. It goes six times. "I got ten earlier."

"I know. I was watching."

"You bitch!" No bounces. Straight into the sand. "I was waiting!"

"I've done my fair share of waiting, James! I think I've earned myself some fashionably late minutes." Gary pats Jimmy’s shoulder, before pulling him in around the neck to narrate. "It was truly fascinating, observing the Homo Sapiens Crassus in its natural habitat. The way the male specimen moved, restless although being in perfect safety, is a telltale sign that he's horny-"

"No I'm not!"

Jimmy shoves Gary off, so much harder than he had done in public at the fountain. The coarse sand rustles where their heavy steps fall. Jimmy’s breath is uneven. It tells of even more violence, currently held back by his self control.

"Gary, I'm angry. At you."

"Why?" Gary scoffs. "Everything went perfect today. I thought I came here to praise you."

"No! You messed it up! You didn't follow our plan!"

"Our plan? It was my plan, and as its maker I'm very pleased with myself."

Jimmy kicks the sand and screams: "You can't call Zoe a whore!"

Ah. Point of contention in the open, Gary slows. Jimmy paces the beach, letting his anger out through his movements instead of closing in on a target. Gary puts a thoughtful hand to his mouth, trying to wrap his head around why this careless comment made Jimmy this mad. He can't. 

"Is that all?"

"Yes! But that shit means so much. I can't believe you don't get it."

"Then please, enlighten me."

"She's my friend Gary! I love her, just not like that anymore."

"How sweet."

"And if you keep messing with her, we'll be forced to bring her into this! She has questions you know?"

"Okay, fine, I admit that it was risky."

"Risky in all the wrong ways! Why couldn't you just have called her an idiot or something?"

"... I beg your pardon?"

"She's a girl!" Jimmy shouts, as if his thought process was obvious. "Their reputation is all they have in this patriarchal society! Why can't you just treat her like an equal? Calling her a whore is slut shaming, Gary!"

"Who are you and what have you done with Jimmy?!"

"She's my friend! Do you think I'd spend that much time with her and not pick up the lingo?!"

Gary covers his face and lets out a groan so loud it mirrors Jimmy's initial scream. Then he stands there. In the darkness of his palms, he relents.

"I'm sorry. I'll try and be more of a… feminist."

Jimmy has deflated as well. He walks up to Gary and hugs him.

"You get why I'm doing this, right?"

"To keep us safe."

"There you go, genius." Jimmy gives the side of his head a peck. "If you make enemies with my ex girlfriend we're gonna have to fight in school. I don't want to fight you. I want you to be mine."

Gary sighs, and unfurls his arms enough to wrap them around Jimmy's head. With a firm embrace, he breathes deeply, holding to that round skull like a buoy at sea. Jimmy himself watches the sea in the bay, the town twinkling on the other side.

"You okay?"

"You not angry at me anymore?"

"I'm good, for now. Come on, let me show you that surprise I was talking about."

Gary looks around at the small and empty beach. There was no surprise. Then Jimmy takes off his shirt. Gary chuckles, taking off his own, expecting something raunchy, he just doesn't know what. But Jimmy stops at his underwear, heading for the water, walking right in.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"It's not far."

"That's not what I'm saying- swimming at night , Hopkins?"

"Why?" The moonlight shows Jimmy's challenging grin perfectly. "You scared?"

"What, of eldritch horrors of the deep, far beyond my comprehension?"

"It's your fault for trying to comprehend them. Be like me, just don't think about it."

Gary walks into the water with a series of hisses, all alluding to the cold temperature and the uneven terrain. As soon as he's caught up, him and Jimmy hold hands, wading into the deep end.

"Such a gentleman." Gary mutters. "Are you going to hold me all the way?"

"Nope!" Jimmy chuckles. "I'll bet my left nut that you swim a granny breaststroke. You'll kick me if I swim too close!"

Offended, Gary splashes Jimmy with water. The victims just laughs, let's go, and crouches into the water, doing a backstroke away. Hot in his slipstream, yet helplessly slow in comparison, Gary follows.

"You can keep your left nut! I still have use for it." His voice shivers when the water closes around his neck. Like expected, it's a breaststroke. "They'll pay millions to clone a true neanderthal!"

Jimmy maneuvers himself up above the surface enough for Gary to see him shrug. Then he flips over to lead the way, freestyle.

The two boys pass through the waters. Only fish notice them from below, like birds would from above. Whatever horror Gary might imagine in the depths, it does not care for them. The bay waters are no more disturbed by them than by the wind.

"Are you serious, Jimmy?"

"Here, stand here and catch your breath. You'll need it."

"Everybody and their dog knows about this shipwreck!"

"For real, breathe deep. You'll need to hold it."

"Why?"

Jimmy points to the waterlogged entrance to below deck. The half sunken boat offered a more tame, yet more dangerous darkness compared to the open sea. Facing it with the Hopkins brand intent of going in, Gary falls properly silent to just breathe and prepare. The cold salt water has done what swimming always does. Being inside of it feels warmer than being in the open air. Only their heads bob about in the waves.

Under the surface Jimmy takes Gary's hand. Then they dive.

Claustrophobic darkness that Gary had only experienced in his worst nightmares was their path. Something as eldritch yet everyday as the tide pulls at the boat. It does not yield. It creaks. The sound swells unfathomably loud both around and inside of them.

Even though Jimmy leads Gary through the underwater labyrinth with confidence, it doesn't stop their lungs from feeling like they'll burst. A stray object floats close enough to graze Gary's skin. It bounces away from his erratic kick. Bubbles from his nose rise to the tilted ceiling, becoming trapped among cables running from long broken lamp to lamp. Gary's panic makes him faster. It also makes the corridor smaller, and his lungs pinch harder. The white knuckle grip on Jimmy's hand leaks weightless blood in the water.

They break the surface. Both of them gasp for air. Familiar, Jimmy reaches up to grab onto a rail, once at a wall, now in the ceiling. It's low, and lets him leisurely hang with his torso at the water level, elbows bent to rock with the waves inside the half sunken room.

Gary clambers around Jimmy's shoulders, desperately hugging him close. The near death experience has him reeling so bad that he can't find any words. All he can do is breathe.

Jimmy speaks first.

"Thank you for trusting me."

"... Is your hand okay?"

Jimmy nods. He doesn't have any words either for a moment. No-one had prepared him for the day when Gary Smith, selfish to the end of the earth, would be more concerned about him than himself.

"Show me."

Gary is too absorbed in his worries to realise what the room is. Mostly underwater, it's a cabin with windows lining the front of the boat deck. The windows are already smashed in, allowing oxygen, but they're much too narrow to enter through. Moonlight beams in right where they are, and allows Gary to examine the palm Jimmy offers him.

His fingers gently press into the red gashes he made. They're deep enough. They're not too bad. The blood sippering out is spreading with the wetness on Jimmy's skin, even though the actual blood content is pretty low.

Gary bows his head low and kisses the iron tasting scar. His lips come out painted.

"I love you."

"I know."

"You're not mad at me?"

"I'm not."

"But I hurt you."

"I love you too, stupid."

A kiss, chaste, but tinged with red. When finished, Jimmy gently nudges Gary to look out the window. The dark starry sky out there has the moon perfectly framed in the view from their hiding spot. Facing that romantic astral object together, it is exactly that. Romantic perfection. A date that you would only get with Jimmy Hopkins if you're Gary Smith. Nobody else would go this far for him. Nobody else would be this foolish. That's what makes it so special.

Chapter Text

Call me crazy, but I deeply considered telling Mandy out of all people. She had proven herself by keeping quiet about Jimmy and Zoe. I wanted to think that my only girl, hyphenate, friend would be more understanding when it comes to thinking about boys, plural.

Sadly, we collided closer than ever before drifting apart.

One game-night, with game as in a football game, I was up late properly studying for once. My fears about my grades slipping were true. Whether it's talking with Mandy, writing more smut, or reading previous smut, I was wasting too much time compared to before. That was why I felt truly invigorated when I finished my homework and glanced at the clock only to find out it was past midnight. My old self was coming back!

But my new self had new worries. Why was Mandy still out? Had she and Ted made up? My guts turned at the idea. Back when we weren't friends I was pleased every time she stayed out late, studying in peace and sleeping more peacefully yet. Now I got ready for bed with no thoughts of sleeping, but rather laying down until she came back, so I could be sure that she was okay.

I kept myself from falling asleep by debating and ruminating on how to tell her about Jimmy and Gary. Everything depended on what mood she would be in when she got back. Out of all my guesses, none were correct. Mandy came back sloshed .

She had successfully snuck past all of our dorm matrons, and slipped quite silently through our door. I laid in the darkness, breathless to greet her in whispers. All of that went out the window when she banged her toe against whatever furniture and swore loud enough to spook me.

"Mandy?!" I asked, while lighting my bedside lamp. In my fright, I even put on my glasses to properly assess the damages. "Are you alright?"

She got revealed in the light in a rather contorted shape of pain. But soon enough she wobbled to a straight posture, twisting it into an idol-ish pose.

"Yeah, I'm like, great!" She slurred, before giggling. "Oh my god, we super won the game, and then all the fucking- Hahah, and I mean ALL the guys said sorry and presented us cheerleaders with a kind of… Peace offering? Like yeah, and we had soo much fun! I've never had this much booze in my life !"

"Mandy- We're highschoolers! We can't drink!" I panicked, rightfully. "You're super drunk!"

"Yeaah! Super drunk!" She cheered, taking her top off.

Now, much like the changing rooms at gym, we had this unspoken rule of never being overtly naked with each other. Both her and I dealt with that shyly, our backs turned to one another, and as hurriedly as possible. Seeing her full frontal cleavage shocked me. I hadn't seen it since Earnest had Jimmy take those pictures. Out of respect for my roommate I had done my best to forget about them. The reintroduction to the subject matter reminded me of how well I remembered after all. My shame and embarrassment tried to compel me to take my glasses off, to at least give her a blur filter for privacy. Naturally, I didn’t, I just stared while she stripped out of her cheer uniform skirt with safety shorts combo. Her panties were string. My face went hot.

"I'm sleeping in your bed, Bea!" Mandy decided, happily pouncing into it.

"W-wuh- But I'm sleeping in my bed!"

"Duh!" She was wrestling her way under my covers, half fighting me, half fighting the covers themselves. She was stronger than both of us. "That's like, the point."

Somehow she landed in the crook of my armpit, snaking her way into half an embrace. A full body flannel pyjamas had never protected me more than now. My heart was hammering in my chest.

"Mandy, you- we shouldn't do this?"

"Oh my god, whyyy?"

"It's against the rules!"

"You should break more rules" She giggled, and the air tickled my neck. "It's soo fun!"

Having her face so dangerously close to mine gave me an adrenaline rush. In times like these, I often become hyper aware of all other senses. Her smell, a wonderful mix of strawberry deodorant and sweat, smashed over the head with what I can only assume is whiskey breath or beer stink. Her touch, both hot and cold from being outside late at night. Her legs were trying to tangle with mine. My own tongue was running dry inside my mouth. Her breath was also heard, just like the steps outside in the corridor, punctuated by key jingles.

I recognised the last danger. A matron was coming. Acting on instinct I pulled the blanket up to cover Mandy, and I enveloped her in my arms. This did admittedly put her face right in my cleavage , but whatever works to silence her giggles. She went stiff and quiet, just in time.

The door creaked open, the elderly woman looking at both beds, but not realising the second bed was empty (for the second time in this tale, I just now realised!). Her voice revealed her as Miss Peabody, blind as always.

"It's lights out. Keep it down, ladies."

In the backlight of the corridor I can only assume she was squinting at me, my wide awake face lit by the glare from the door.

"Yes, ma'am." I mumbled.

"Tsk… Beatrice Trudeau… How you've changed." She muttered back ominously, closing the door and patrolling on.

The moment I breathed out, Mandy sprung from my chest. She popped her head out, and pushed me down with a hand on my… chest.

"That bitch!" She whispered, to her credit silently. "She can't just be catty like that!"

"Mandy, ow- ow- owwww!"

"Oop, sorry!" She let go, deciding that laying back down on my shoulder and hugging me was more comfortable for the both of us. "But is she for real? Yeah you've changed, for the better!"

"I'm glad you think so, Mandy." I squeaked out, stuck in mental anguish instead of physical. My thoughts of Jimmy and Gary were out the window.

She was pleased, laughed a little, and hugged me even tighter. I had become like a doll in her grip. She had wormed a hand under me too, completely enveloping me.

"You should do cheerleading with us~!"

"That's bold coming from you."

"Huh? Why?"

"I applied last year, remember?" I groaned, pained by the embarrassing memory. "You denied me. Back when you had first become captain."

"Oh right… Why didn't you apply in our first year?"

"I wanted to get a gauge on my studies before I signed up for any extracurricular activities."

"Pffhehe, nerd!" She said, the common word so often said as an insult now sounding like a pet name. "You were quite okay though. I should have accepted you."

I stared at the dark ceiling. This revelation is minor, but meant so much to me. I've never been athletic, and I did apply to the cheerleading squad only to have it as a curious trivia fact about myself for when I've gotten the Nobel prize or the like, but to hear that I was… Okay?

"Mandy, you said I was the most pathetic attempt you've ever seen. That I could barely kick my legs or lift my arms right, no matter the instructions." I said, the old wound making a lump in my throat. "You compared my moves to a monkey's. You grilled me in front of all the girls, and I cried in the shower."

At an awkward angle, but with a clear cut intent, Mandy patted my bangs. The pressure on my forehead calmed me. It kept my tears at bay. No matter if she treated me like a kitten, all that mattered was that she cared, and gave me space to feel my feelings. 

"Then you put that public note on the noticeboard."

"Yeah, that was mean of me." She admitted in full truth, despite being drunk. "But your comeback about the study groups was pretty good."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I got super mad, and kept ranting about how I never wanted any help from you stinking nerds either way."

I managed to smile. She was making me feel better. 

"Why did you reject me?"

"You scared me."

"I scared you?" I said out loud, breaking our whispers. She silenced me with a finger to my lips, shushing me softly, stroking that hand down to my jaw. Both disturbed and not, I whispered in proper volume: "You've got to be kidding!"

"I was really deep in my ED back then. It like, warped my world." She looked up at me with her big doe eyes. "Do you know that your posture is super shitty?"

Rather stunned, I nodded as a reply.

"When you were at cheer tryouts, you straightened your back. You finally showed off these-" her hand gently stroked down my neck, over the curve in my pyjamas. In defence of my chastity her hand travelled on the side of my breast to avoid the nipple. It stopped at my waist, taking a firm hold. "And this. You're so naturally skinny. When I saw that, my jaw fucking dropped. I had no idea you were this hot."

Drunkenness betrayed in her giggle, she cuddled her face into my chest so hard that I was sure she was hurting her nasal bone.

"I had this big idea that if you started cheer you would become all confident!" Mandy mumbled into my pyjamas. "And that confidence would make you the prettiest girl in school… So I tore you down, convinced you would tear that crown from me."

"I- I'm-" I stuttered uselessly, my hands going up to pet her head. She was still wearing her ponytail. It was a bit messy, but her hair was so soft to touch.

"I know it's stupid, but it's also true." She moaned, in like the sad and embarrassed way, not the sexy one. Then she added softly, a dreamy sigh: "I think you're beautiful, Bea. I have ever since."

The complicated feelings became clear to me in that moment. I was in love with Mandy. In hindsight they had never been that complicated, I had just desperately resisted realising them. Now that she had called me pretty, there was apparently no turning back. That was all it took for me to bloom in bright pink.

Mandy tossed and turned a little at my side.

"Oh my god, Bea? Can you unhook my bra?"

"Can I what now?"

"I'm uncomfy!" She whined. Her grip around me didn't let go. "And I'm busy!"

"O-okay."

Her back was so heavenly soft beneath my fingers. I held my breath unhooking her bra. The elastics noticeably relaxed when they no longer needed to hold her. Now just… I did. I laid my hand on her bare skin, feeling the vague shape of her thoracic spine under my fingers. I held her.

"God…" She groaned. "I'm so stupid."

"Why?"

"I need to let go of you to take this damn thing off." She had realised. Her actions reminded me of grumpy early mornings, the way she frowned as she tore herself away from me.

Seeing her sitting in my bed, bare chest in all of its glory, made me freak out. My shame was catching up with my other feelings, and it compelled me to escape.

"Actually, I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be back in a minute!"

Mandy just grunted and laid back down, cuddling under my covers like nothing. I did go to the bathroom, safe under the girls dorm conduct that we never ask why a girl goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

In the privacy of the same bathroom stall where I had written my first smutty fanfiction, I sat without paper, vividly imagining a future I could never have thought up just months prior. There was no stopping the thoughts. They hit my brain like a rush of water, sliding off before I could properly treasure them. All I got was glimpses.

But I got far. I imagined a future with her . I was a proud lesbian in STEM, safe from all men in that male dominated field trying to date me, all because my worst bully turned out to be my true love. She would stare them down in the way only a highschool queen-bee could, frightening them into their boots from her impressive aura. Nobody would bother me ever again. Then she would take me into her arms, maybe even carry me bridal style, and we would both wear dresses at the wedding. I wrote the speech for when she wins Miss Universe, and her delivery of that speech itself would finally convince the entire world to fix climate change.

Then she would kiss me. I would kiss her. She would take off my glasses, and I would close my eyes, shy. Her hand on my chin, she would beg me to open them, to watch her, see her, think only of her. I would whimper that I can barely see without my glasses, and we would laugh, and kiss some more.

These thoughts made me so desperately happy for myself instead of some proxy me of my fantasies. My heart soared, and I had to cover my mouth for fear of shouting at this stunning revelation that could not be reversed. I loved her.

What if she loved me?

What if she didn’t?

The second question was the one arrow to pierce every single one of my heart shaped balloons. Even though Mandy had become so much nicer to me lately, I had no definitive proof that she meant for us to be anything more than friends. Everything she had done that night could be excused away due to alcohol.

Drunk women are famously kind. Her admittance about the cheer try-outs and finding me beautiful was by no means a confession. It was just her coming clean with the fact that I was pretty to her. No, beautiful! Oh, the semantics don’t even matter. I had no clue as to whether or not she was queer either. Mandy just seemed like the person who could flirt with her friends for fun, without ever meaning it to go any further.

That was the carpet that I swept all of my broken dreams under. I snuck back to our room, desperate to ask some leading questions. Mandy was already asleep.

In truth, I got arrested by my internalised homophobia. If I had just realised that I was a desperate lesbian, would Mandy care to know? Would she become uncomfortable and feel molested if I cuddled back down in the same bed as her? I never in my life wanted to be predatory. I never in my life suspected I would have to pick between my own bed, containing my friend and crush, or her bed , blissfully empty. 

I picked her bed. It was cold, and somehow harder than my own. It also smelled like her. It brought me as much joy as it brought me anguish. I struggled to fall asleep. My one hope was that in the morning, everything would work itself out.

I woke up that Sunday morning from a very light sleep, simply by the sound of Mandy moving enough to make my bed creak. In the dim light from the blinds, I first reached for the wrong side, finding no bedside table in her mirror world side of the room. On my second try, I got my glasses on. Sight restored, I found her looking around, not at me, but just at the room in general.

“Oh my god…” she mumbled, her voice all groggy. Her nakedness was hidden behind my blanket, clutched dearly to her chest. “Why am I in this bed? What happened yesterday?”

“Uhm, you-” I had to clear my throat. It made me sound stupid. It made me more nervous. I defaulted to stating nothing but facts. “You said you wanted to sleep there. You were really drunk. After the football team gave you the…”

“Yes, the party, I remember that.” Mandy rubbed her eyes. “It’s just, hahah, I guess I don’t remember shit about what happened after I went back to the dorms.”

I took this claim at face value, marvelling at how drunk she must have been. Although I have no personal experience, I’ve read in medicinal books that hangovers depend greatly on age. The older you are, the less you need to drink in order to feel the worse effects of the drug. Considering how young Mandy was, she must have drank copious amounts in order to black out and lose her memories like that. Still, a peace offering from the jocks knows no bounds, I figured.

This grand amount of alcohol also added to my theory that she hadn’t meant much of the affection she gave me the night before, at least not like that . If she didn’t remember doing any of it, how much could it have meant to her while she did it? Nothing, of course. It was just me and my silly fascinations… 

These thoughts showed on my face, obviously worrying Mandy on the other side of the room.

 “... Was I annoying or something?” she asked.

“Not really…” I hesitated, not for the sake of lying, but for the sake of saying just enough. In a desperate attempt to seem cool about it I explained it as thus: “I went to the bathroom, and when I came back I didn’t want to disturb you. You had already fallen asleep. Sorry for taking your bed without asking.”

“I mean, did I ask you?”

At first I didn’t understand what she was referring to. My quizzical look made her roll her eyes, and motion with her head to my bed. Technically, after all, she didn’t ask to sleep in my bed, she just decided! So to stick to that truth, I shook my head.

This was the wrong answer. Rather, it was not the answer Mandy wished to hear. As quick as she tried to hide it in rubbing her eyes some more, I could see that flash in her expression of immense regret. At the time it made sense. She didn’t remember, and my testimony made her ashamed of her actions.

“Man, what a dick-move. I’m sorry Bea, I just feel gross, I’m gonna go shower.”

She acted fast. Before I knew it she had escaped from my bed, into her bathrobe for modesty, and was well on her way out with a change of clothes in hand.

“Okay.”

The door slammed. I was left alone to right this battlefield of bad decisions we had both made. I sheepishly left her bed, and made it to perfection. You couldn’t even tell that I had been there… All of a sudden a sob grew in my throat.

With this sadness welled up inside of me, I went about the room and cleaned up her discarded clothes. Folding them up and neatly putting them back on her bed felt like saying goodbye. What was I trying to end? My own fledgling dreams of dating her? Of our friendship overall? I didn’t want her to be further from me, I wanted her to be closer, didn’t I?

I tried finding an answer in the bra that was caught on my nightstand. All I found was that she used a little bit of pushup, at least on game-nights. I hid that bra in the middle of the pile of folded clothes. Hopefully she would forgive me for touching it while cleaning it up…

Could she forgive herself, if I had told her that she asked me to unclasp the bra in the first place? Could she forgive me for knowing the medicinal name of where I hinted her skeleton underneath my hand? Could we both forgive how nice it felt to be so close, with only flannel to keep us parted?

I used that flannel pyjamas to dry my tears, not yet fallen from my eyes. I was being silly and dramatic. After making my own bed, I felt a little more grounded. Our room looked normal, and we would go back to normal… The new normal! Where we talked, and were friends! I had plenty of time and space in this room to nurse an unrequited crush of my own on her. I had plenty of practice doing just that. All my love life, I’ve simply been the best at admiring from afar.

The mirror on the far side of the room caught my eye. I couldn’t help but think about what Mandy told me the day before about my beauty. Carefully, I approached it to appraise my own lovability.

My posture did suck. Even if my face was clean of cold sores, and mostly clean of zits, it still sat on a gangly bean-pole of a woman, complete with all of the twists and turns those plants make in their attempt to grow ever taller. I wasn’t the prettiest girl at school, not by a long shot.

To take stock of her words, I tried straightening my back. It made a difference. Even in my shapeless pyjamas, new shapes appeared on my person. Shocked, I felt myself over the fabric, just like she had done… And forgotten.

Vain hope lighted in my heart. Maybe if I walked a little taller, she would come to see me as beautiful enough to ask me about it. Maybe, just maybe, my supposed beauty could attract her back to my bed? I didn’t imagine myself as a seductress, not by any means. At best I was a school girl putting on lipgloss, desperately hoping that my crush would notice. If my posture was the one thing Mandy would like fixed with me, maybe this could be my secret weapon to actually make her notice?

Unbeknownst to me at the time, I was entering the third act of this tale. It has to get worse before it gets better. Soon enough, everything will get much worse.

Chapter Text

The state of friendship between me and Mandy never did return to normal as I had known it. She was more distracted after that incident, coming home later and talking less to me. It saddened me a bit, especially with my growing crush that I could not ignore, but she was so graceful about it. Whenever she let me down, she did so softly, so I convinced myself over and over again that I didn’t mind.

In the spare time I had without her to disturb my studying, I wrote this piece. The inspiration was none other than me taking stock of what I hadn’t done with Jimmy and Gary before. It’s hard to believe that such a big event such as gay penetrative sex had slipped my mind.

To make matters clear, I have never visited the In-And-Out Motel, nor do I ever plan to. Whatever state they may claim of their rooms, I will judge this book by its covers and assume that it’s dirtier than appropriate and smells weird.

For the circumstantial finale of my fiction, I however had to imagine what it would be like to rent a room there for a night. The boys may be getting frisky wherever I wish them to, but fake Gary did have a pretty solid plan for where they should properly fuck.

The bathroom grout has such a dark colour even Jimmy can figure out it is mould. He takes a deep breath, hardly concerned for what that mould could mean for his respiratory function, and sighs all that air out deeply. He is stark naked, sitting on the toilet, doing what few adults practising anal sex often talk about, but most of them ought to be doing: Douching. He doesn’t like it.

Douche-bag as an insult means more when you have the literal meaning of it in mind. Jimmy hadn’t thought of it like that until the instrument was literally in his hand. Giving yourself an enema is both harder and easier than you might think. Filling yourself with water? Odd, but doable. Shitting that water out like you’ve got diarrhoea? Humiliating at worst, not even that funny at best. Jimmy’s final review of the full experience is that it was boring.

That type of boredom is what makes him ponder the grout. It’s both a relief and an annoyance that Gary isn’t here yet. The humiliating part of the prep would be more humiliating if he had that douchebag, pun intended, comment about his labour… Or maybe he wouldn’t. That clean freak might just be thankful enough that Jimmy goes through this discomforting process to have some grace about it.

There is no grace when Jimmy puts the douche nozzle back up his butt to fill himself up again. This has to be the last time. He is sick of this.

The mirror in the room is thankfully turned away from all of his awkward ministrations. It is cracked, and has those peculiar dark spots running beneath the glass. Limescale and toothpaste stains seem to have become part of the sink. Whatever cleaning they do perform just wipes the top layer of white upon yellowing white. His thoughts drift back to the beer-bellied man at the front desk.

“Aahh…” He counted the dollar bills with a smug understanding. “Who’s the lucky lady, worth all of this lunch money?”

“Your mom.”

“Good one, Shakespeare, haven’t heard that one before.”

“Would you rather I trash the room, smartass?”

“Nah, nah, I’m just joshing with ya. Use protection, make some stupid promises, just don’t tell the cops I rent these out to you kids below 18.”

Jimmy snatched up the room key with a scoff. Despite that, they were at a mutual understanding.

“Mind your business, and I’ll mind mine.”

Paranoia manages to take a chomp at the bit of Jimmy’s conscience. What if that motel worker is curious enough to try and spy at who else comes to this room? This isn’t one of those issues where Jimmy can beat his way out of it. Gary has said time and time again he’s got it under control, but what if Jimmy messed it up by being a bit witty with the front desk guy? 

Lost in thought, Jimmy realises he forgot to check what his wastewater looked like. There’s no way to tell once it hits the toilet bowl, everything blending in below the dark waterline. Frustrated at himself, Jimmy resorts to lubing up his fingers and checking that way. One gross way traded for another, unless he's truly done and finished with his cleanse.

He is already slick from his process. Everything slides in so easily. His thick fingers gently probe their way in as far as they can go, knuckle deep, and feel around the warm cavity. It’s… Good, he thinks? Taking himself out, he examines it, and yes, finally, he comes out clean. The loud flush of the toilet has never been more satisfying.

Since he has nothing better to do, Jimmy takes a shower. He paid for this hot water, so he might as well use it. The cheap soap smells overbearingly of green apples. Now that the most pressing part of his preparations are finished, the excitement for penetrative sex with Gary turns up as nothing but dirty thoughts. He lazily rubs his cock, imagining company already. Shower sex is hot in concept. So he enjoys the concept thoroughly.

Just the two of them, lost in the steam, right here, or even in the gym showers at Bullworth. Gary towering just a little over him, bent over to hold him close. The dick he has felt pressed between his butt cheeks so many times is now imagined inside. Sliding in, and filling him. Real Jimmy who’s having the fantasy presses a thumb inside just to hook at his prostate. The special sensation that only men can feel makes him gasp. It echoes against the tile walls, both in and outside of his fantasy.

A louder noise from outside echoes through the vents. An explosion of some sort? Jimmy snaps out of his masturbation, hurrying to turn the water off and head for the window. Towel around his waist, he nonetheless drips and wets the perpetually damp carpet in the main room. Through the dusty wooden blinds, he can glimpse at the parking lot outside. Whatever exploded has a lot of people flocking to it.

To an outsider it is indeed a curious happenstance. To Jimmy in the know, it’s as clear as day. He smirks, and lets go of the blinds. Standing straight, glancing towards the door, he can almost count down the seconds until Gary’s entrance.

Door unlocked as planned, Gary slips inside and shuts it with hardly a slam, despite moving fast enough to make you expect one. Over his shoulder he’s carrying a big gym bag, far too big for a single overnight stay at a local motel. There’s a stress in his eyes from both his sneaky escape into the room, and from facing the room itself in all of its grime.

“Care to tell me what you blew up?” Jimmy asks, unbothered in his half dressed state.

“No, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t caught, and nobody saw me, that’s all.”

Stuck on his one track mind, Gary starts making a deeply researched round in the motel room. Every outlet and electrical appliance is checked for hidden cameras. Lose objects are lifted and turned over for the same reason. He even checks inside a vase of fake flowers for any kind of recording equipment. This isn't incriminating Jimmy in the slightest. It’s all to ensure the motel itself isn't making any more shady moves than the ones they already know about. Gary's paranoia makes him a case cracking detective of the highest rank.

But Jimmy sees him for what he is. A nervous teenager. Private Investigator Smith hasn't spared Jimmy himself a glance, and made no comments about his state of undress. Somehow charmed by Gary's inattention, Jimmy just smiles. He glides over to lock the door. Gary forgot the obvious in search of the improbable. The sound of the lock turning finally snaps Gary's line of sight his way.

"Oh…" He wavers, standing on a stool and pointing a small flashlight inside a vent. "You… finished preparing?"

"Yeah." Full of charisma Jimmy sits down in the dingy motel armchair as if it was a royal throne. "I'm all clean and ready for you, babe."

Gary mutters something under his breath along the lines of "don't call me that" with a string of hastily picked insults. He's still not finished with his rounds. One moment Jimmy's just sitting there and admiring him like a doofus. The next thing Gary knows is that Jimmy's unfolded the towel to jerk himself off, half mast already!

"How excited are you even?"

"Very."

"The question was rhetorical, idiot! But don't work yourself up just yet. I'm far from finished with this dump."

Jimmy groans in deep boredom, reluctantly letting go of his little self. Sure, this place is gross, but is Gary about to loosen every screw in here in search of a camera or something?

Luckily, that is not the case. The only area Gary has left is the bed. Over the course of his scan he lifts the silly little hotel style skirt around the frame. What he sees in the depths has him coming back up slightly white in the face.

"Don't look under the bed."

"Why? Did you find the murder victims?" Jimmy jokes.

"What? No, thank god, it's just super dirty. I'm glad I came prepared!"

With a dramatic flourish Gary tears off the covers. Jimmy looks on in dumb amazement as Gary strips the sheets from the blanket, pillow and mattress. It's once Gary starts bringing out freshly store bought replacement sheets that Jimmy starts laughing. 

"God, Gary, never change, okay?" He manages in-between fits of giggles.

"It's not even about germs." Gary replies to a question never asked. "It's about respect. Respect for yourself, respect for us, for what we're about to do- Hey are you going to help me out?"

"Nah." Jimmy smirks. Gary's work process had been smooth up until this point. That's exactly why he’s still sitting down. "I quite enjoy watching you struggle with a duvet."

"Come on!" Gary groans. "It's easier when you're two!"

"I know."

"Jimmy, for fucks sake, just do your part."

Gary holds the duvet high, and turns towards the armchair. It is perfectly reasonable to expect Jimmy just getting it, and pulling the lower corners into place. Since it is Jimmy Hopkins however, and Gary did cover up his face and eyes in the process, the next turn of events isn’t entirely unexpected.

Jimmy tackles Gary, launching the full bundle of blanket and boys onto the bed. Shouts of protests, wrestling and chaos, it just happens. At the end of it, they’re forehead to forehead, about to kiss but both of them are waiting for the other to initiate. The half dressed blanket has been pushed down to their feet. Jimmy snicker enough for the air to tickle Gary’s face.

“So, are you relaxed yet?”

“What about an ambush is supposed to be relaxing?”

“I dunno. You just seemed like you needed a distraction.”

Gary rolls his eyes. Contrary to that gesture, he presses his forehead harder onto the other’s.

“Maybe I did.”

“Besides, I’m naked.”

“I know you are, I’m not blind.”

“Oh yeah? Then pay attention to me.”

“Is that what this is about?”

The challenge in both of their eyes, to which they both give in at the same time. The kiss goes deep, to the realm of being a proper makeout. Gary rolls over, so that he’s sitting on Jimmy’s lap. Pushing him down by the wrists, he keeps ravishing his lover until everything is right in the world. The silky clean sheets make it feel like they’re anywhere but here.

Soft sirens outside snap them out of it. Both breathe. The police car passes, probably chasing down some ne’er do wells on bikes. Today it’s not them.

Jimmy smirks, and grinds his hardening cock against Gary.

“Wanna switch up the positions?” He nods to his restrained arms. “Or did you change your mind to ride me instead?”

“I want to touch you.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Inside.”

“... Wanna beg for it?”

Gary shudders in both lust and frustration. The dark look in his eyes center in on what he needs to express.

“No, I want you to trust me. I want you to say it’s okay.”

“It’s okay.” Jimmy says, his heart warm and his dick hard. “I want you to touch me… Inside.”

There’s an embarrassed groan while Gary dismounts and frees his boyfriend. Still, both of them want the same thing. Jimmy gets comfortable with one of the pillows behind his head, spreading himself lazily where he lies. Gary sees what he has seen before with new eyes. Eyes of someone that has a permit to enter.

“... Do we need more lube?”

“Oh fuck, yeah, we do, it’s in the bathroom.”

“One second.”

At first Jimmy is irritated that they need to take a break once more. But the moment Gary comes out of the bathroom, and Jimmy gets a good and proper view of the bulge in that man’s pants, it feels worth it. Just knowing that they’re both this turned on makes it okay.

Nowhere near as practised as Jimmy, Gary is nervous about putting the lube on his fingers. He puts one at the hole, and is immediately surprised at how easily it goes in. It’s warm and slick inside, in ways he had yet to imagine. Jimmy admires Gary’s reaction to his body. Leisurely, Jimmy has a hand on his cock to jerk himself off. The moment Gary finds and pushes at his prostate, Jimmy lets out an appreciating grunt.

“There?” Gary scrunches up his nose a little. “That’s not very deep.”

“Nope, it’s right there.” Jimmy’s reply is nowhere near as collected. He’s turned on , and getting stimulated. “Hey, are you going to get naked, or do you mean to wear your clothes like some kind of power play-?”

There’s a dangerous glint in Gary’s eye.

“I had quite forgotten, Jimmy-boy.” He looms over the prone man. “But what a good idea. Maybe I will, as some kind of power play…”

Jimmy is certain that he’s blushing.

“Yeah, shit, that’s hot.”

“I could tell.” Gary glances down. “You twitched.”

Caught, lightly humiliated, Jimmy moans and jerks himself off harder. They play like this for but a few seconds until Gary’s fed up. He puts his free hand on Jimmy’s wrist, and wrenches him away from himself.

“Wha-”

“No more of that. I want to see what your cock does, now that I’ve got it by the inside, so to speak.”

Jimmy’s unsure what to do with his hands now. Stiff, he fumbles with the nice sheet beneath them, breathing heavy from the going ons. Gary was right. Even from getting just a prostate massage, his dick twitches and bobs in response to the presses. Patiently, Gary adds another finger.

“Haa-ah…” Jimmy sighs, not as patient. “You gonna fuck me yet?”

“Are you begging now?”

“No, I’m just- sssshhh, fuck, I’m just asking.”

“Okay.” Gary shrugs, and keeps teasing Jimmy like before. “I was going to do it if you begged, but if you’re not…”

Jimmy bites his tongue. “Mhmm-mh!” he both hums and moans in the same breath. It’s nothing but loving torture. As much as he wants it to end, he wants it to continue. Whatever Gary’s doing, he’s good at it. If Jimmy cums hands free like this, would Gary be happy? Jimmy’s breath quickens at the thought.

“Good boy~”

“Wha- Ffff- What the fuck are you ahn- on about?”

“What do you think?”

Jimmy shudders. All throughout the massage he’s had his eyes closed, or stared at the ceiling. Now that he’s wondering, he notices how Gary’s looking at nothing but him, only him. Observing his every reaction, Gary had been able to tell when Jimmy got more excited than before from having his ass fingered. 

“Hhhh- Don’t you wanna fuck me?”

“I do.” Gary says in utmost seriousness, playing it straight in return to Jimmy’s teasing.

“Then do it, pussy!”

“Well…” A sharp hook keeps pressure on Jimmy’s prostate. “Didn’t begging sound sweet?”

“Fuck, I know, it’s just-”

“You don’t want to obey when I ask you to.”

“You’ll give in.”

“Says who?”

“I do!”

“The guy with three fingers up his ass?”

“Three-?!”

Jimmy’s shocked reaction falls right into the trap. Gary chuckles an evil laugh, taking his fingers out. They’re just two, he shows. But when he presses them in again, the third one has joined them, and it just slides right in.

“You’re so much of a slut that you believed me, Jimmy.”

“Ssshut up.”

“How does it feel? Good?”

“Would feel better if you- Ngh- fucked me.”

“So you want me?”

“FUCK, yes Gary, you piece of shi-iit, I want you to fuck me!”

Finally winning, Gary just laughs softly. Jimmy pants and goes on:

“Please? Please! Is that what you want? Please?”

“Sure Jimmy, I’ll fuck you, since you asked so nicely."

He retracts, and darts off for one last thing. From his big bag he snatches up a roll of condoms, this curious serpentine of adult colours and vacuum sealed squares. He brings them all, but rips the first one of with an impatient flourish. Kneeling between Jimmy’s still spread legs, he rolls it on. No, wait, wrong way. He rolls it on. Jimmy snickers.

“Don’t you laugh at me now.” Gary grumbles, barely contained.

“I love you.”

“... Why now?”

“I’m excited.” Jimmy smiles straight in Gary’s eyes. “For you to fuck me? Please?”

With a shuddering sigh, Gary does just that. Slowly he sinks into Jimmy, spreading him more than three fingers could. Both of them moan and groan throughout the long penetration. Once Gary’s bottomed out, he leans in and folds into an embrace. Jimmy’s hard cock gets sandwiched between them, stuck between naked skin and knit fabric. Today they won’t care about stains. Today, they’re both allowed to get dirty. 

After resting there to get used to it, Jimmy’s the one who rolls his hips from the bottom. Gary answers by humping down. It gets way more reaction from Jimmy, who gasps, in deep pleasure. Again. Again. Again they both move to find that rhythm that gives them both exactly what they seek.

The pleasure Jimmy feels is what makes him give first. It’s not like he’s coming, far from it, but all of the friction against his innermost spot simply overwhelms him. He’s hardly able to buck against Gary any more, reduced to a moaning mess of just laying there and taking it. Gary breathes heavy by his ear, dedicing to inch down and bite at Jimmy’s neck. There’s a groan from both of them as this hard muscly flesh refuses to give yield.

When Gary lets go from the bite, he rises to his arms. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck already, no doubt dirtying the clothes from the inside. Physical movement is second nature to both of them, but the moves they’re making are new. Strenght otherwise used to punch and wrestle is now running hot for the sole purpose to fuck.

But that’s the charm of it. Gary cracks a euphoric smile, looking down at the lust riddled Jimmy, lost to the sensation of two bodies joining. This is more than what they have done before. There’s an aspect of conquering that Gary can’t help but think about, obsessively, just as obsessively as he forces his cock in and out of Jimmy.

Then it switches. Jimmy reaches up, his hands settling to cradle Gary’s skull between them. Suspended in this reach for love, Gary realises he’s the one who’s lost. A shuddering moan escapes him, and he sinks back down to hug Jimmy close. If anyone’s conquered, it has to be Gary as well, abandoning himself like this to be completely enveloped in another.

“Gh- ary…” Jimmy moans, hardly able to speak unless he makes an effort. “I think I might… Cum like this.”

“Don’t think. Just do.” Gary huffs through his own exertion. Then he cracks a grin. “It’s what you do best.”

The little praise sends a shiver through Jimmy’s body. The clench on Gary’s cock is more than welcome, spurring him on to keep it up no matter how hot and sweaty he is in his clothes.

“Go on!” urges Gary, excited to see if his voice can make similar reactions happen again. “You’re taking it so good. You feel so fucking tight, Jimmy.”

“Mnh!” Jimmy claps a hand over his mouth. Before long, Gary tears it away from there. “Wha-”

“Get loud.” That command alone is enough to get another shiver going. “I want to hear you. I want you.”

The plateau that Jimmy had been riding on climbs higher still. It climbs fast. Unsilenced, mouth wide open, lewd noises far beyond those he’s done before just spill out. They echo in the room, nestle in the cheap furnishings, bounce back to Jimmy’s own ear. But with no middleway, Gary groans sweeter yet, so much sweeter than the raw force that he fucks with.

“I want you to cum.”

It’s downright stupid. On command, voice in ear, Jimmy goes over the edge. His legs spasms and shivers, his torso cranes and relaxes, all centred around his cock that pulses and spurts between them. As much as his body is moving involuntarily, Gary is pinning him down. Not in malice, but in sheer gravity.

Gary keeps moving throughout it all, marvelling at his own timing. He doesn’t really fathom that his command was what pushed Jimmy over the edge, rather wondering what luck he has to utter it at such a great time. The sensation of Jimmy losing it under him is so much going on at once that he has difficulty taking it all in. The one thing that stays in is his dick, continuously fucking the clenching asshole through the motions.

But that’s the thing. If he keeps going, the raw sensitivity of Jimmy’s inside gets heightened to the point of insanity. Jimmy’s moans become more desperate, blending somehow with the familiar tones of Jimmy getting hurt. Gary feels a jolt of excitement. Switching their position just slightly, he puts his arms on Jimmy’s thighs and pins him down in a bundle of body. This tension between just them makes Gary’s thrusts feel deeper, more present, and somehow harder.

“Fuck-!” Jimmy manages to enunciate through it all. “Please-”

“Please what?”

“Ah-! Plee-ffffhh… Cum!”

“Cum inside you?”

“Yes!” Jimmy jolts beneath him, face clearly contorted in pain. “You… Idiot!”

No, not just pain. Pleasure. Gary has already found the rhythm his body desires, and now he succumbs to it completely. Eyes wide open, staring at every detail he could possibly comprehend, Gary fucks himself towards the orgasm Jimmy so desperately begs for. Wide eyed and breathing heavily, he looks deranged in the best of ways. Fighting himself more than anyone else, he doesn’t want to lose out. However, the pleasure proves too strong. He collapses down, eyes closing, arms just holding as much of Jimmy as they can, and he cums.

The deep pulses are a relief and a half. Jimmy relishes feeling them more acutely than he would have ever guessed. Weakly, thoroughly fucked, he wraps his arms around Gary’s shoulders. The clothes they insisted on him wearing feel hot. The skin of his neck is absolutely slick with sweat. Returning to his own body, Jimmy realises he’s just as sticky against the sheets.

“We’re so stupid.” Gary bemoans, weakened and weary.

“Huh? Why?” In a similar state, Jimmy sounds kind.

“It doesn’t matter if I cum inside of you.” He starts to reason. “You’re not a girl, you can’t get pregnant, and I’m wearing a condom so…”

Jimmy shushes him and pets the wet sweaty hair on the back of his head. “It feels good. It felt good for me too. That’s why I wanted you to cum inside.”

“Pffhgh-” Gary chokes his own chortle. “You’re so predictably simple… I love that about you.”

“Yeah… You gonna pull out though?”

“Right. Like… What now?”

“Don’t get philosophical, just-” Jimmy shimmies his soon to be aching legs. “Get out, get the condom off and throw it somewhere for fun!”

Following these deceptively simple instructions, Gary finds himself kneeling in the bed. Somewhat delirious through his after-glow, he takes the condom off and tosses it. Blindly. 

With a wet splat it sticks to the mirror. It gives a tiny rubbery squeak as it starts to slide down..

Both boys break out laughing, finding it the funniest thing to ever happen. Teenagers as they are, this type of dick-humour is the best when it’s unexpected. Gary collapses next to Jimmy, and is soon enveloped in a cuddle too warm to bear, but too sweet to let up.

“I’d hate to bring a blacklight in here.”

“Jimmy, don’t start now.”

“What?”

“This place is gross as it is, don’t make me think about it.”

“But we just added to it.”

“That’s ours, at least.” Gary sighs. There’s a dangerous glint to his eye. “But we’ve got all night. We could paint this room if we really tried.”

“Now look who’s talking.” With a lustful glee, Jimmy strokes Gary’s thighs. “Next thing we know you’ll be bottoming too.”

“In your dreams, Hopkins.”

“What if you’re my dream, huh?”

“... The more quippy you become with your sappy comebacks, the more I want to silence you, you know that right?”

“Oh? How?”

“There are ways…”

“Why are you hesitating? Don’t you want to talk dirty to me?”

“I want to take a damn shower.”

Jimmy smirks. "I think I can do you one better…"

And that's how the two lovers finds themselves crammed inside the motel bathtub. Gary is in the back, his long legs just barely able to stretch out fully. His upper body is absolutely pressed to the edge of the tub by Jimmy's blocky presence. Jimmy himself doesn't properly fit widthwise either. He has to rest his arms on the edges for his shoulders to be relaxed. The water they bathe in is nice but…

"This sucks."

"Yeah, this sucks."

In a unison similar to that of the condom hitting the mirror they both laugh. It isn't as frantic. More soft. It echoes, bouncing like a rubber band ball between the tile walls. It is bright there. Fluorescent light buzzes annoyingly in the ceiling. In spite of their surroundings, in spite of their position, they enjoy being in each other's arms. Gary kisses Jimmy's head.

"We will get a bigger tub." He smirks, positively feeling the question before Jimmy even voices it. "When we live together."

"Damn…" He is obviously flattered. "We're going to live together?"

"I'm not going to live without you." Gary hugs him closer. "Not when you're finally mine."

Jimmy leans into the hug, kissing Gary's hands.

"Fine. I guess I have no choice. Doctor's order."

"... What doctor?"

"Whatever therapist convinced you you were in love with me, remember?"

"Bullshit." Gary shifts enough so that the tub groans in enamel steel. Jimmy meets his eye. Gary speaks clearly, completely serious: "Nobody convinced me of anything. It was my genius idea from the start."

Jimmy bursts a gut laughing, but he nods. His convulsions makes the water splash a little. Gary grins while trying to hold Jimmy still.

"It's simple." Gary goes on. "If you're not in my life, how will it ever be interesting? I'll sooner die of boredom than anything else if you're away."

"I'll stay." Jimmy promises, settling in this embrace. "I'm all yours."

Gary keeps prattling on about what he'd like in an ideal home. It is so infinitely far from this dingy motel, far from this sleepy seaside town.

When Gary makes the plans, Jimmy feels entitled to believe in them. Their dreams would take a lot of time, and a lot of money, but at the stage of dreaming that doesn't matter. Together they will be invincible.

Chapter Text

There is a certain kind of fondness for this last, and longest fiction of mine. Something about it just breathed finality. I felt done, done for now, having gotten the boys securely attached and left them dreaming about a future together. I’m still no writer, but I imagine this is the satisfaction they feel once they finish a story.

More data will give me a more accurate understanding. I’ll evaluate this further, once I finish telling what happened next. This finale to all the events prior is the most unbelievable, and the sole reason why I sat down to detail this now epic chronicle. It’s so long! I truly thought that my story about the story would be shorter than the story, but look at me now!

It is of importance to remind you where and how I first wrote all of this fiction, especially since it has just been read in this simplified form. I’ve mentioned it several times, but it was all in my physics notebook. In actuality, it would be more accurate to say notebook(s). Between being a studious student, my fiction about me and Jimmy, and then the fiction of Gary and Jimmy, I actually go through the pages of these school supplies at a heightened rate. The pages I have separated to archive in this way are truthfully from two different sources.

The latter one, the one central as we continue this tale, contained absolutely 0% of Hopkins-Trudeau and 100% Smith-Hopkins. Nay, perhaps more accurately 80% of the grand total? I introduced Gary to my writing in the first notebook, until that one ran out of pages. The first story of them as adults, and then when they met by the fence was safe there. All stories from the point of Gary causing the riot and being drugged for it, up until their motel-stay were in the second, unsafe book. Why unsafe?

Because that was the book I was carrying around, and the one I had to repeatedly flip through when the physics test was coming up.

When someone has a secret such as mine, you learn to trust no-one, not even your friends. In truth, I shouldn’t have trusted even myself! For all my moves of only using it while on a table, so that I could fold the incriminating pages away, I still failed myself! In the worst of times! I got too cocky, and that was my downfall…

My trials were nearly over though. It was the day before the test. I was standing with the book in question, virtually reading it inside of my locker to skim through the notes without needing to break the spine of the poor thing. That, out of all times, was when Jimmy chose to approach me.

“Hey.”

“HI!” I slammed my locker shut, but clenched the book closed in my hands. At Bullworth nothing is safe inside of lockers.

“Oh, you nervous?”

“Yes!” I said, truthfully. “Physics is not lost to me yet, but I’m sooo afraid that it will be another failure, just like my maths grade. I really need to ace this test, so, yeah, I’m nervous. How about you? Does your class have the same test?”

“Oh, right, that’s like… Tomorrow.” He scratched his head. “But I’m probably going to skip.”

I leaned far over him, looking down in shock. “No! You can’t! This test affects your final grade, Jimmy!”

“I know!” he defended with a smirk. “Me and Dr. Slawter have a deal in the making, don’t worry.”

“What kind of deal?” I worried.

“He says that if I can do this one physics assignment right, he will give me a grade.” He handed me a paper. I read it while he talked. “So basically, calculate this one punch, like, fully, whatever that means. He was hoping I could apply myself since I’m a boxer.”

“Well, you don’t exactly apply yourself to regular studying…” I mumbled, still worried. “But Jimmy… Calculating a punch like this is pretty hard. If I were to find this on a test, it would be the extra credit question at the end.”

“Huh…” He took the paper back. “So you mean that ‘grade’ he promised me could be something above a C?”

“Maybe an A+!”

He gave me a dangerous smirk. It would have made my past self fluster, but it was strange. It felt as if my fake Gary blustered up inside of me, with the exception of the romanticism. I spoke in his words, thankfully with my own voice:

“Jimmy, if you think I’ll do it for you, you deserve an F.”

He laughed. “When did you get sassy?”

“It doesn’t matter. Dr. Slawter has hope for you to do this on your own. Every formula you need is in the course material.”

“Show me?”

Right as I turned to unlock my slammed shut locker, the first bell for class rang. Stressed, I decided against bringing out the textbook, and foolishly I opened my own notebook. Confident, I started flipping through it, book halved, so I only showed the right page to him. The paper fluttering past when I changed our focus was completely illegible thanks to my quick hands.

“The assignment Dr. Slawter wrote is both forgiving and finicky. To know how hard the punch actually lands you need to consider force, which is your own mass times the acceleration of your fist. According to my notes… Oh, here, I wrote it down, mass and velocity is in chapter 1, but breaking it down to mass and acceleration in order to make force is chapter 2.”

“The whole chapters?”

“Since you know what you’re looking for you probably don’t need to study the full chapters per se, just the parts you need. The next part would be the impact of the punch, which is momentum. This time you take your own mass times velocity minus the mass times velocity of your opponent. If they’re standing still their velocity is none, but if you want to appear more impressive you can give them a bit of movement like they’re trying to dodge or something. This is all in chapter 3.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” He was surprisingly following. “So bits from 1 and 2, all of chapter 3… That’s not even half the book?”

“Almost! The most finicky part that Dr. Slawter challenged you to figure out is the work of an eventual knockout - the potential energy of your opponent falling down. And that’s covered in chapter 6-”

For a brief moment, I fucked up. I held a page covered in fiction between us. Hurrying to correct my miscounting of my own cipher, I turned the notebook over to show the next page. Luckily, that was right.

“Oh, look, I even have the formula. Look here, it’s mass times gravitation times height. Ah, I even took note of the page number, 69.”

“Heh, nice.”

“Surely! Anyway, I had better get to class. Do you have a time limit? I could help you later, just not now…”

“Yeah, no, thanks, I might take you up on that.” He grinned. “I’ll try and cram chapter 1, 2 and 6 first though, to get the groundwork out of your way.”

I nodded. Out of nowhere he put a hand on my shoulder. It felt like an out of body experience, as I immediately expected a question of what he might have seen.

“By the way…” He switched it up, and patted my bony body instead of holding it. “You should listen to yourself, Einstein. You’ll ace that test! I know it!”

“Thank you, Jimmy!” I cheered, disappearing into the thinning crowds. I had the excuse that I was late to class by my own standards, so I actually ran.

In my seat in art class I flipped the book over again, to read the page I had pressed so desperately against my chest in my escape. It wasn’t smut. It was when they were swimming to the boat. I breathed out, only to suck that sigh right back in. What if he saw? Just seeing his and Gary’s names would be incriminating enough! I tried to calm myself with how fast it had been, how normal he had acted towards me, all these excuses to quell my anxiety. None truly worked.

Ms. Philips gently touched my arm.

“Is everything alright?”

It was so innocent. I excused myself, said it was stress from other classes. She went on a kindly spiel about how art-class should be an escape from all of that. At the moment, it calmed me.

Only when she left did I realise that I had once again left the very same page open for her to read over my shoulder! Is it part of a teacher’s job to report if a student writes like this about her peers? Is it punishable? Am I actually bullying Jimmy and Gary behind their backs? What if she tells Mr. Galloway about me writing at all , only for him to demand to read it???

Let’s just say I was in shambles by the time the school day was over. I arrived at the library more tense than ever. Us nerds were holding our customary day-before-a-big-test open study session. It’s Earnest’s initiative to offer help to any student who might want it. This type of volunteering is meant to ease relations between cliques, and help raise the grades of the entire institution… That is if anyone but us ever came to these.

Nonetheless Earnest has decreed that attending these is mandatory , so I sat there, listless, restless, and loveless for nobody to notice. Most of the boys were so busy planning out their weekend at the Maths Competition. They were going through travel itineraries, arguing about what one had time for in half an hour, trying to adjust their schedule to perfection. All of their bickering was annoying.

I glanced at Fatty. He was doodling his Grottos and Gremlins character. I looked at Bucky. He was tinkering with his latest pencil-pistol. No one, and I mean absolutely no one, was honouring this stupid decree that Earnest had imposed. Fuming, mostly from stress, I interrupted them:

“Is anyone here going to study physics? Hmm? Or is this some kind of club house?”

As intended in full malice, the mood around the table dropped to an icy chill. Most everyone seemed a bit ashamed. Only Cornelius was still scribbling away inside his imaginary ivory tower of maths calculations. I honed in on him:

“I know you’re excited for the competition, Cornelius, but it would be polite to at least look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

“Beatrice.” He stopped. He faced me. “I don’t care what you think. Mind your own business.”

Everyone bristled into murmurs at me and Cornelius picking fights with each other again. Melvin who sat between us preemptively put his hands up to stop us from getting physical. Not that we would. Earnest cleared his throat, getting up on his high horse.

“Now, now, let’s keep it civil. Cornelius, that wasn’t very nice. Beatrice, is something on your mind?”

“Yes! We’re here because you force us to , and the whole purpose of being here is studying for the physics test. Why am I the only one doing that?”

I know that several of my friends thought the same thing, but bit their own tongues to keep from saying it. Like telepathy, they all channelled Earnest to bite the bullet instead.

“It could be…” He hesitated on the precipice of his insult to my injury. “That you’re the one having an academic crisis right now.”

“You did not-!”

“No, I did say that.” He raised his finger at me. “You’re not coming with us to the Maths Competition for a reason, Beatrice. I know it’s frustrating, but you know why we can only send the best of the best.”

“I know.” I bit back. “I helped you win last year, remember?”

“We will do the best to honour your efforts, and win again!” Melvin promised, trying to lighten the mood. My ice cold glare somehow lit a fire in his arse to try harder. “But you’re right , Beatrice, we should study physics until at least five o’clock. What do you say gentlemen? Table this conversation for later?”

Everyone in the competition team grumbled a meek agreement. Fatty and Bucky hurried to stash away their leisurely activities. The text books that had been missing on the table were appearing at a rapid rate, along with all of their identical notebooks. Seeing all of those only made me feel more guilty.

Melvin had taken charge, and held the study questions high.

“Personally, I found question d) interesting. Why don’t you bring up your notes on that?”

I sheepishly fumbled through my artefact of danger, now hyper-aware of how suspiciously I flipped and handled the book. Somehow, I was still faster at finding my page than anyone else. 

Horribly, Melvin noticed that.

“What did you write, Bea-?”

He surely didn’t mean anything. He only leaned a little bit closer, and touched the corner of my notebook to pull it closer to him. It wasn’t even on a dangerous page.

My body reacted on instinct, ripping it away from him to hide it in my arms.

“DON’T TOUCH THAT!”

Once again I made the mood around the table drop. Only this time, it dropped like a priceless vase shattering to the floor. I didn’t have enough control over my panic to do anything but make it worse.

“You can’t just touch people’s things without their permission!”

“I was just trying to-”

“I don’t want your excuses!” My shouting and angry speech earned me a sharp ‘shhhh!’ from Mrs. Carvin. Even that didn’t stop me. “Don’t touch my notebook! I don’t want anyone to touch it!”

“Beatrice…” Algie squeaked, sounding like he had already pissed himself. “A-are you okay?”

“No! I’ve been out of my mind since before lunch, and there’s nobody to help me! No one can understand!”

“We could-”

“No, you can’t! You can’t even listen to me!”

Heavy like his gavel, Earnest’s palm hit the table. We all peaked towards him. Stiff like a roman statue, he pointed to the door with his entire hand.

“You’re free to leave.” He meant well, adding on: “I never intended to force you to be here. Please go, if that’s what you want to do.”

It was exactly what I wanted, but it still felt like rejection. I hurried to gather up all my things and storm out of there. When I was in the ante-chamber of the library, I heard Thad’s voice poorly whisper:

“Do you think it’s a period thing?”

I’ve never slammed the library doors as loud.

As angry as I was, I didn’t cry. I did something else that’s even more foolish. I didn’t go back to my dorm, dreading to find it empty. Instead I went to look for her. 

It felt like sacrilege to slip into the school gym. After having disrespected my own library, this was just the next step in my slow desert to the other team. Immediately I heard Mandy’s clear voice counting. Cheer practice was well underway. Doing my best to remain unseen, I shuffled into the shadiest part of the bleachers.

Time passed wonderfully there. With my head empty, I got to just watch. Mandy’s instructions were full of the jargon she had once taught me, and I actually understood what it was that all the girls were trying to synchronise. In their world there was no number over eight. Among them, there was no story to tell, or any secret to hide. It was pure, dumb athleticism, and it made them all look so good.

Since Mandy was actively coaching and leading them to learn new steps, she stood to face her team, her back against my voyeurism. It comforted me that she never noticed. I didn’t want to disturb her. I just wanted to be this close, for but an hour or less, to feel the stabbing comfort I had come to know as pining.

I loved her. I loved the way she held her arms out, up, anywhere at all like she didn’t weigh a thing. I loved the squeak of her shoes. I loved the twirl of her skirt, and the bounce of her hair. I loved her voice, and how it made everyone listen.

I missed her laugh. I missed the smell of her deodorant. I missed the embrace she had given me that night. Why wasn’t she talking to me?

A deep cough behind me spooked me to attention again. Just like I had snuck here, Mr. Burton had snuck up on me.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked me, much too amicably for a teacher who knew I underperformed in all of his lessons. “They’re quite good, aren’t they?”

“Yes. They are.” I tried to sound reserved.

“You know, they could use another member.” He thumbed at his wife-beater’s shoulder straps. “Right now they’re an even number, but if they’re odd you can make some real nice centre-fold formations.”

“Are you in charge of choreography, Mr. Burton?”

“Uhhh, no.”

“Then please don’t go around suggesting changes that would burden Mandy with a larger workload.” I stood up to leave. “I’m not joining, for her sake. She hates me.”

I meant for that last part to be a lie. By the time I had left the gym far behind me, my words caught up to my already crackling conscience. It left me arriving at our dorm in a sad and sorry state.

I crashed on my bed, all books I had carried spread across my desk haphazardly. To take stock of this spectacularly bad day I had 1) shown my fiction for a split second to Jimmy, 2) shown it again for at least a minute to Ms. Phillips, 3) fought with all my friends and acted strange about my notebook, and finally 4) peeked on Mandy practising like a creep. I had enjoyed that last part so much, until Mr. Burton had arrived and acted like we were one and the same. In my own self loathing I didn’t see much of a difference.

But points 1-3 were all about incriminating myself to different people. One victim of my crimes, one authority figure to report them, and eight people who could snoop further under the guise of caring for me. Under the weight of all of this anxiety, I fell asleep right there on my stomach.

Mandy was the one who woke me up. With just her fingertips, she gently shook my shoulder.

“Hey, nerd.” She said. “You should change and brush your teeth.”

My heart fluttered at her care for me. “What time is it?”

“Bedtime.”

I turned my face back down into my mattress, to hide my dopey smile. She was so cute. Bedtime isn’t a real time- Except maybe when she says it is. My glasses hurt, pressing against my nose. 

“Did you come to cheer practice?” Mandy was already on her side of the room. I could tell without looking.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t done that before.”

“I needed to clear my head.” I said, getting out of bed to go and slip into my pyjamas. She was doing the same. Back to back, the whole room between us, none of us saw the other. “A lot of stuff happened today.”

“Today, huh…” She sounded distant. “Anyway, I saw you, I think, so I just thought I should tell you I did.”

“Did I disturb you?”

“Not too bad. Mr. Burton is always worse.”

“He talked to me. Suggested I join.”

“... What did you say?”

“That I won’t.” I sighed. I contemplated adding ‘because you hate me’, but I held my tongue for once this awful day. “I left. I don’t like talking to him.”

“Girl, nobody does.”

The simplicity of her saying that fact had me giggling a little. There were so many things I wanted to say to her. I wished I had opened up, and told her everything from start to finish. From my fiction, to what happened today, to my realisation that she was the most wonderful person in all of Bullworth.

I didn’t. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I came back she was already in bed, lights off and with her sleep mask on. I laid down. The ceiling above me seemed impossibly far away. I fell asleep with an ache in my chest. It was a familiar symptom at this point. I wanted to be hers.

Chapter Text

I just wrote a long detail of the morning I had, but I scrapped it since it’s essentially just me wasting time, fearing to write of the afternoon that was to follow. To replace them, here’s a summary of the important bits.

I purposefully overslept, since I dreaded the day. When I left in a hurry, I didn’t have time to wonder if my books had been touched, hurrying to scoop them up from the uncharacteristic mess I had left on my table the day before. I took a firm decision to not even open my physics book, deciding that providing access to the dangerous texts was the source of my problems.

Light aside, I know it seems ridiculous, but when you’re trying that hard to hide things you’ve written and you keep failing you might just want to cut your losses and minimise all risks. Not opening the book was brilliant to me at the time. Part of the compromise was nonetheless to bring it with me, for fear of it being snooped in by whoever wanders the girls’ dorm. I slotted it in the middle of my usual stack of books I carry against my chest.

Being late to first period meant no speaking to my friends. Talking in the middle of geography is only for greasers and jocks. During the short break I truthfully had to hurry to the bathroom, having foregone that detail in my usual morning routine. My friends seeing me beeline away from there sparked yet another whispered period comment, which renewed my anger at them. I stayed locked in a bathroom stall long enough to be just as fashionably late to the test during second period. So yet again, no talking to them.

Due to Bullworth being so incredibly rowdy, tests last the full lesson. Even if you finish early, you’re not allowed to leave until the bell rings. After chewing through all of the test questions, I sat and read Dr. Slawter’s biology posters over and over again. Every now and then I switched it up to read my test through. Each time I tried to find any faults. As far as I knew, I had answered everything perfectly.

Here’s where I made a conscious effort to soften. Immediately after the test it would be lunch-hour, and I knew very well that most of my friends were going to leave. As angry as I was, I would be more angry if I had to stew on this over the full weekend when they were gone.

The bell rang, and the test was finally over. All the papers got collected, and all corralled students were released like livestock to our pasture. Another tradition that us nerds have is to immediately give our impressions of our performance after a test. I fell into our little circle with little to no reaction, going through the list of everyone participating. My feeling was that I aced it (just like Jimmy had predicted). Most of us seemed to have been above average, as expected.

“Actually-!” I said loudly, before our conversation had time to wander. “I’m sorry for acting weird yesterday. It won’t happen again.”

Everyone around me gave me sympathetic looks. I knew they didn’t understand, but at least it felt like they wanted to trust my empty promises. There was a general chorus of “it’s fine” and “don’t worry about it” as they physically started walking away. I followed, catching the hint that they wanted to leave the subject behind. 

“You know, studying yesterday totally helped!” said Melvin. “I would have gotten the penultimate question wrong if we hadn’t.”

“Really?” scoffed Donald. “Rookie mistake, not stressing the extra credits.”

“Well, does it matter? I got it right thanks to Beatrice insisting I study.”

“Oh please,” I humbly sighed. “I’m sure you would have figured it out. The tests are long enough to reinvent every rule in the field of physics if you put your mind to it.”

To my pleasant surprise, everyone chuckled at that. Right about then, we started walking down the stairs. Dr. Slawter’s classroom is on the second floor. This little detail was a vital piece in a grand puzzle that I wasn’t laying myself.

“I’m glad you did okay Bucky,” said Algie. “I mean, with your notebook being lost and all.”

“Pfffshshh, it’s no big deal!”

“Huh?” I perked up. “Your notebook is… Gone?”

“Yes, but I’m totally fine, I mean, I’ve got the textbook-”

This was as far as we got. I wasn’t looking where I was going, even if we were on the central stairs. The closeness of my friends me feel safe in herd capacity. That was my mistake. A jock, Casey Harris, was standing guard like an oaf by the edge. As I passed, he flicked his foot out in pure sadism. It hooked me perfectly. Right on the tallest step.

I don’t know how to properly dramatise the fall. To be tripped is an awful feeling of gravity. Your feet are just gone underneath you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Even if the stairs felt crowded, there were not enough students to dampen my descent. Instead I plummeted towards a brain injury. In order to save my future Nobel prize, I threw both arms up to catch myself.

My landing however, that’s dramatic. My books and papers went flying in a satisfying rustle, landing in thuds, sliding across the big floor. My hands and knees slammed hard, hard enough for my glasses to be launched off my face. Their plasticy noise was different from the books. Then came the applause. Applause followed by jeering and laughter. Bullworth’s school body never changes at large. 

I was blind, fumbling like a certain cartoon character for my life to unshatter. My friends hurried to help me. The adrenaline was too much for me to even scream. When they asked how I was doing, I somehow thought I was fine. All of my books were spread in a cone radius, like an Icy Blast in G&G. Friends and the few sympathetic students moved like blurry shapes to collect them. I opened my arms to accept whatever they gave to me. My glasses were physically put back on my face, crooked as they usually end up when someone else does that. Only when I could see again did I feel a sob building. Before I lost it in front of everyone, these mocking-birds both above and around, I got scooped up under my arms and hurried to the nurse’s office.

The one thing I cared to check was that my physics notebook was still with me.

Then followed a very uncomfortable half an hour in the nurse’s office. Her elderly hands checked all my points of impact by pressing on them, and I still think she pressed much harder than she needed to! For the brief time she liked to entertain it, she also taped ice to my knees. While we waited, she served me lukewarm, stale Beam Cola to soothe my nerves. Apparently Mrs. McRae doesn’t believe in carbonation, and lets her soda air out by herself. I don’t think it’s very hygienic, but at the time I accepted the sugar.

Barely half of the lunch hour was left when she shooed me out of her office, saying something about sensing that she would need me gone soon in favour of other injured students. As frightening as my fall had been I didn’t mind. In actuality it had been more shock than any particular damage to my body. All in all, I was fine. I was fine.

In the lunch hall, I only found Fatty and Bucky. The Maths team had left while I was gone. Their lunch would consist of sandwiches in the minibus on their way away. I lamented about not being able to say goodbye, they sympathised, and then we spoke about my fall.

“I’m the one who got your english textbook.” Bucky said with blatant pride. “Did you notice?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Everything was a blur to me, even after I got my glasses back on.”

“That was thanks to Sheldon.” Fatty beamed. “He picked them up before anyone stepped on them! Imagine! Losing your glasses like that!”

“That’d be awful…” I glanced at my stack of books. My incriminating notebook was still there. “As if the laughter wasn’t awful enough.”

“It wasn’t only at you.” It was awkward, the way Bucky softly touched my forearm. “They laughed at your assailant running away.”

“Oh yeah, three prefects absolutely descended on that idiot Casey!” Fatty howled. “It was so funny! He tried to parkour off the stairs, but slipped on some marbles where he landed!”

He quieted down after a bunch of jocks on their table glared our way. Actually, all of us huddled together like frightened rabbits. We spoke in a much quieter tone afterwards.

“Well, I’m certain all of this will be forgotten soon.” Bucky reasoned. “It’s not the most embarrassing thing that has happened at Bullworth.”

“Surely not…” I wanted to give an example, but there were too many to pick one out.

The bell rang. Third period was chemistry. The group project that put me and Lola together was long gone, so I got to enjoy the hour with just me and the elements, making wonderful reactions among beakers and burners.

The penny meant to rest underneath my tongue so that I can pay off Charon to cross the river Styx in the underworld, yes, that dreadful penny, dropped during fourth period.

It was english class, and Mr. Galloway did his usual handwaving, saying that we were free to do creative writing if we had finished up the previous worksheets. Having steadied myself after the test, the fall, and the rest of my perceived issues, I snuck out my physics textbook. Only when I opened it, it wasn’t mine.

Crows' feet for handwriting lettered the inside of the pages. All notes had vast, uneven margins to each other, and plenty of doodles dotted the empty wasteland therein. Dumbfounded, I closed the book again. On the front my own neat hand did say “physics”, complete with the usual flourish I put on capital P’s. It should be my book. Yet every time I opened it, it wasn’t.

Two valves broke under the pressure, filling my head with two types of steam. The first was just full blown panic. The second was desperately trying to make sense of what had happened. In a mix of these emotions, my breath running hot through my nose, I boldly stood up and walked over to Bucky’s desk. He perked up from his worksheet, surprised to see me pull out a different chair to sit next to him.

“Is this yours?” I whispered, handing him the notebook.

“Huh, you found it.” Fully ignorant of my own crazy stare, Bucky flipped through the book with a familiar ease. “Where was it?”

“Nevermind that for now.” I took it out of his hands, only to put it down on the desk again. I pointed at the label. “Did I write that? Why does your book have my handwriting on the cover?”

“Oooooh, I get it!” He chuckled. “You must have mistaken them at some point. Don’t you remember? I complimented your lettering and asked you to write this like, first week or something. Long time ago now.”

My knees were practically shaking. Desperately, for more reasons than he could understand I asked: “ Why? ”

“Well, you know… I was crushing on you back then.” He crossed his arms, yet sought my gaze. “What’s a guy to do if he wants to get closer to his girl? I thought it was cute.”

As reality at this school, this conversation was not private. Two preps sitting behind Bucky had paused their unhidden game of cards to listen in on our whispers. Their bated breaths released into mocking snickers, and one of them made kissy noises with his lips.

“Cute…” I repeated. “Bucky, you have no idea what this means.”

“Uhhh, no I don’t. But what’s the big deal? The physics test is over.”

We might as well have been sitting on different continents. Our eyes were meeting, but neither understood the other. I felt like my twitching eyes accurately expressed how close I was to losing it. He seemed nothing but flattered that I had come to sit this close to him . Somehow spurred on by the mocking preps, he corrected his glasses.

“Bea, why don’t you come to the carnival tonight after all? It doesn’t have to be a date, I just… I want you to relax. Jim can come too, if that’s what you want.”

“When did you lose your notebook?” I asked, ignoring his plea.

“After the study session yesterday, I think. I noticed it when I was back at the boys dorm… I haven’t seen yours though.”

Robotic in my movements, I simply left. Mr. Galloway only noticed that I had moved a chair when I put it back where it belonged. He let me go with a shrug of his shoulders, since I was on my way back to my desk . Sitting down, I settled into the horrifying fact that my notebook was gone .

The first theory that I discredited was that I would have indeed mistaken Bucky’s book for mine. Even if the matching covers could have allowed it, I knew I had never let go of my book all throughout my library visit. I also knew I had only had one physics notebook in my stack that morning, so I couldn’t have taken both of them.

My immediate reasoning was that they had been switched out during my fall at the stairs. In fact, that entire fall was suspicious. Even if bullying is rampant, I realised that I could have been targeted in particular by anyone who wanted me to drop my books. As per my list of suspects yesterday: Ms. Philips would never. Jimmy totally would - Even more if Gary was involved. The unsettling part was that my friends might, if their curiosity to see what I kept so secret got the best of them.

This vivid imagination that plagues me gave me a vision of the full Maths competitors’ minibus passing my book around and being horrified at what they read. If this was true, I would have no way of knowing until they came back on Sunday. If this was true, I couldn’t trust Bucky or Fatty to tell me the truth. What if Bucky’s journal had never been lost in the first place? They had consciously led me towards the stairs, and talked very timely about the missing notebook just before my fall happened!

The shrill ring of the bell announced that the school day was over. I stood up, chair scraping, and hurried to leave before either Bucky or Fatty could catch up to me. In the school corridors, the amount of students were thickening like fish being poured in a cramped tank. Claustrophobia itched in my skin, and I needed something, anything to hold on to.

Luckily, I spotted exactly who I needed to talk to.

“Sheldon!”

The young boy cowered, hiding his face from the expected beating he was used to getting at this school. To be fair, I had roughly slammed a hand on a locker to corner him. When he peeked out to realise that it was me, a girl and a fellow teacher’s pet he lowered his guard a little.

“Hi! What’s the hurry?”

“Sheldon Thompson, you are my only hope.”

“Is that a Star Wars reference?”

“Yes- but- Nevermind!” I shook my head violently. All of my chances of finding out the truth rested on this little snitch’s shoulders. “I need you to tell me who you saw during my fall at lunch.”

“... Huh? Half the school was there! I can’t list everyone I saw. But anyway, it was Casey Harris who did it.”

“I know! Just-” I lowered my voice so that less people would hear. “Was Jimmy there?”

“Nope!” Sheldon puffed out his chest. “I have on good authority that he was at the auto shop, because there are fresh tags with his style written all over it! … Also I think he had shop class that block.”

“Okay, okay… What about Gary?”

“Gary Smith?!”

I shushed him with a frenetic breath that seemed to frighten him. A few students around were turning their heads, curious to see why the-name-so-rarely-spoken was said out loud. I had no escape. Despite their glances and open ears, I had to silently plead Sheldon to think about it. He wrinkled his smooth brows in deep thought.

“I don’t know his schedule as well as everyone else’s, but I’m pretty certain he had gym during that period. Either way, I would have seen him, and I didn’t.” Sheldon shivered. “I don’t like it when he’s around, so I’m always on the lookout to see if he does anything scary.”

I nodded. Sheldon’s open palm got some crumpled dollar notes pressed into it. I didn’t care to count. We left each other, dispersing into the crowds. I uselessly checked my locker, but my notebook wasn’t there.

If neither Jimmy nor Gary had been there, how could they have switched out the books? Both shop class and gym class put both of them much too far away to reach the scene of the crime in time for the crime to actually happen. Gary appears to be playing the role of a good student, so there’s no way he could have left class early or skipped it. Even if Jimmy does that at any given moment, Sheldon would have seen him. The tags around the auto shop were a plausible alibi…

My worries lead me to my least likely suspect. I knocked on the art classroom, and Ms. Philips' muffled voice let me in. The usual smell of paint that permeated the room had a blanket of perfume over it. I stood shocked by the door, finding Ms. Philips by the mirror in that skin-tight red dress I had only heard the boys tell rumours about.

On the bright side, the sight of my middle aged teacher’s seasoned sensuality completely snapped me out of my doom-spiralling thoughts. Free from my fears, instead flustered by her obvious plans for the Friday night, I forgot how I meant to confront her.

“Hmmm? Oh, Beatrice!” she looked at me through the mirror. “Has that stress left your pretty little shoulders yet?”

“... No.”

“I would let you sit here and paint some for an hour, but I’m afraid I’ve got plans.”

“I can see that.” In fact, I was staring pretty obviously at how she applied her lipstick. “I just wanted to ask…”

Nothing came out. My awkward teenage pause was taken in stride. Ms. Phillips left the mirror, and leaned amicably on her desk. With her wise face tilted, she sought the question I couldn’t find myself.

“Is it boy problems?”

“Yes!” I let out a short laugh, just a tad hysterically. “Two of them! I… I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh, honey…” She crossed her arms in deep thought. “Have you talked to them?”

“No! Not about this, never it’s just… I’m afraid they’ll find out without me having any control over it.” My revealing rambling slowed by my reason pulling at the reins. “Actually, Ms. Philips, did you read my notebook yesterday?”

She stirred, confused.

“I left my notebook open on my desk when you comforted me. Did you read it?”

“Good heavens no!” she threw her hands up. “If I let any of my focus stray while speaking to my students I would never see their real authentic selves. I looked you in the eye, Beatrice, nowhere else.”

“Okay.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I believe you.”

The door behind me opened, and I managed to jump away just in time to avoid Mr. Galloway walking into me. He startled, looking from me, and then to his office romance.

“Should I come back later?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“I think we’re fine.” Ms. Philips quickly crossed the room in order to catch Mr. Galloway around his neck. In a gross display of forbidden affection, she kissed his cheek before turning to me with a catty smirk. “I know you’ll get through this Beatrice. You’re a bright girl. Even if you don’t have control over it, who says that you can’t have two boyfriends?”

I was stunned. If anything, it proved that Ms. Philips had no idea what was going on. She was no longer a suspect.

“Should I read into this?” Mr. Galloway asked, genuinely confused.

“Hush now, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I squeaked, slipping out of the classroom without further questions. I’m pretty sure I heard the two adults start making out before the door had even shut.

The thought of me dating both Jimmy and Gary at the same time was even more laughable than my idea of them dating each other. I didn’t even want to date either of them, now that Mandy had entered my heart. But there, right in that thought, there was a fourth suspect.

Had she looked through my notes when I was sleeping? Could it be that Mandy was the one who knew ?

Chapter Text

Did I have my preferences? Yes.

When measuring the devastating effects of the plague or cholera, there is one right answer. While the point of the idiom is that both are bad choices , and you want neither , one could consider the fact that the bubonic plague has a fatality rate of 90% while cholera has one of less than 5%. This lesser of two evils would permit me to survive. On the other hand, in a more subjective manner, I might have preferred to die. But that’s an aside for another suicidal story, which isn’t mine.

I truly deeply wanted for my friends to have my notebook. Those boys might have read the one or two stray pages they might have found in the cipher, and then promptly put it down. They had a competition ahead of them, and it wasn’t time for them to dawdle in the private writings of their only female friend. While the breach of trust would forever mar our friendship it would be nothing but a bout of cholera. Non-lethal.

It was because of this vain hope that I postponed confronting anyone else after my misadventure in Ms. Philips classroom. I idled in agony, waiting for a chance to have a phone call. None of us had our own mobile cellphone, but I had the itinerary for their entire trip. They were to arrive at their hotel at 17:30. I was in the library on the dot, calling with the express permission of Mrs. Carvin.

The hotel answered, and my rehearsed lines got me exactly where I wanted. The phone rang a second round. Cornelius picked up in the hotel room.

“Hello?”

“Hi! It’s Beatrice. Can I talk to Algie?”

“Huh…” He moved away from the receiver, but I could still hear him call over Mr. Popular to the phone.

I sat hugging my earpiece, already analysing if Cornelius had been trying to hide something.

“Hello?!” squeaked Algie’s voice.

“Hi. It’s Beatrice.”

“Oh! That’s a relief, I thought my mom had forgotten to say something.” He laughed.

“Did she already call you?”

“Yes, she’s been blowing up the hotel phone since five to know we arrived safely… You know how worried she is whenever I’m not at school. Anyway, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to encourage you!” I lied. My acting was on point. Mrs. Carvin nodded in a proud manner while she listened in. “If I hadn’t fallen earlier I would have told you when you left, but you know… I just figured you would be nervous.”

“When am I not nervous? What if I wet myself on stage ?!”

I cringed, trying hard to keep my face straight. Mrs. Carvin didn’t need to hear that . “Mhm.”

“I was considering not drinking at all, but dehydration would impede my brain performance.” Algie kept whining. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think…” Luckily I found quite good advice, remembering the competition the year before. “You should just focus on your friends. Don’t look anywhere else. Try to forget that you are on a stage. If it’s just you and your buddies solving a maths challenge as fast as you can, then it’s more fun and less nerve-wracking.”

Algie gasped in awe. “The power of friendship?”

“Yes! The power of friendship!”

I didn’t feel like a friend. I had targeted Algie in particular because he’s the worst liar out of the group. The weakest link in any of Earnest’s plots. Algie is the golden boy who lives his life like an open book, right down to the yellow pee-stains on the page. In this short but plausible excuse of a conversation, he had shown that my notebook was not with them.

“Actually, there was one more thing.” I said. “A book of mine got stolen when I fell at the stairs. Did you see anything?”

“Huh? That’s awful! But no, I didn’t see anything. So much was happening.”

“Can you ask the others?”

Naturally the group of six had split themselves over two rooms alphabetically. Neither Cornelius nor Earnest had seen anything. I got to hear the muffled beginnings of Earnest making up a campaign-like speech about how bully-based theft ought to be given harsher punishments. But right about then, Mrs. Carvin reminded me that I shouldn’t let the phone call drag on for too long. It was after all the library footing the bill.

After my goodbyes were said, I steeled myself for the next challenge to come. My feet dragged all the way from the library to the girls’ dorm.

It made sense. The one who had tripped me was Casey Harris, a jock. Mandy was the jock faction’s queen. Reinstated queen even, ever since that make-up party. If she as much as hinted that she wanted to get something done, it was done. She had read my notebook last night, or even earlier than that, and wanted to get away with stealing it for good .

Forget the few nerd boys reading it out loud in the mini-van. Instead, imagine every girl but me laughing at it in the locker room. Worse yet, imagine Mandy reading it out loud, right into the microphone for the entire auditorium to hear. She would use that sweet yet terrifying voice to make both Jimmy and Gary sound like pansies, to ridicule my author’s voice to the ends of the earth. That notebook was the key to destroy me.

This plot of befriending me might have been just that from the start. A plot. Mandy Wiles was a bitch, and nothing was beneath her.

I was a fool to have ever hoped for anything else.

With these spiralling thoughts of doom, I found her in private inside of our room. She was sitting on her bed, painting her toenails. Her hands were already done. She always starts with the hands, then does the toes. I shuddered at knowing this detail, shuddered at caring to know it. I closed the door behind me.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” She wasn’t looking my way. She was only looking at her feet. In the silence that lapsed, through my fingers clenching my uniform skirt, she gathered that I wanted to talk. “What’s up?

“Did you see my fall? At lunch?”

“Yep! Bullworth never changes.” She half sighed, half chuckled. “Your stuff really went flying. You okay though?”

“I’m fine.”

“Cool. Did the nurse serve you that stale Beam Cola?”

“She did.”

“Oh my god, isn’t it kind of gross? Whenever we get hurt at practice she’s got a bottle of that at room temperature and-” She stopped mid sentence to shoot me an irritated look. “Why are you still standing there? Come inside.”

I took hesitant steps away from the door. Tense in my whole body, I ended up standing in that awkward middle of our room that doesn’t belong to either of us. It put me in more of the light from the windows, but not much. Mandy glanced at me again, and audibly scoffed.

“I swear, you look like a horror movie chick.”

“Did you laugh? When I fell?” Her descriptor was pretty spot on. I sounded like I was about to pull a knife and stab her.

“Yeah but not like…” She hesitated. “Not like I meant it or anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone else laughed! It’s what you do when someone falls down the stairs. That shit is ‘funny’ here at Bullworth…” Defensively she added: “It would have been weirder if I didn’t laugh.”

“Why is that?”

If I had the privilege to direct weather in this story, lightning would have rumbled outside. In reality it didn’t. The same cloudy skies as always painted our bleak present, just like it promised to do for our future. 

“Well…” Mandy was uncomfortable. She was running out of toes to paint. She bit her lip before deciding on her answer. “People don’t know we’re like chill now. In here. Where it’s just us.”

“You know I’ve been thinking about that.” My voice was louder than hers. “Why is it just us ? Why can’t anyone know that we’re friends ?”

“Friends?” There was something in her half choking laugh. She had to somersault through an exasperated sigh to keep speaking. “Ugh, people would think it’s weird.”

“They’re right. It’s weird.” My palms were sweaty. “I’ve finally realised. You’re hiding something from me.”

All of her suave pretension cracked. In the past I wouldn’t have noticed, if only because I didn’t dare look at her properly. But now I knew I could. I could stare at the way her posture stiffened. I even noticed her fail to put the nail polish brush back in the pot, smearing shimmer on her thumb. On the second try she managed, and she screwed that lid on hard. All of this suspicious behaviour spurred me on.

“You always have been.”

“Bea…”

Her voice held such quivering sorrow. Regret, perhaps. Whatever she had wanted to tell me, I didn’t let her. My mind was already tipped off in the other direction, and her familiarity with me ticked me off.

“No! Don’t shorten my name.” I demanded. “I’m Beatrice Trudeau, and I won’t be made a fool any longer!”

For once, Mandy had become the deer in the headlights. My anger at her pressed at someplace sore that made her meek. It made me feel even more strongly that I was right.

“Give it back!”

“... What??” she said with such infliction that I feel compelled to add an extra question mark.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you’re not. Give back my physics notebook.”

Mandy’s expression of offence was astronomical. Whatever meekness I had caused broke from the inside as her own anger came to the forefront. Damned be her freshly painted nails, she shot out of bed, away from me.

“... No! That’s not what we’re talking about at all! What has that got to do with anything here??”

“You’ve read it! Just like you’ve read my diary!”

She gasped. “Not anymore! I stopped!”

“It doesn’t matter. Now give it back!”

“How can you accuse me like this?”

“Because you’re a great liar, Mandy!” I shouted. “You’ve been using me for your convenience, all while planning ahead to throw me under the bus when it will hurt the most! That book is my Achilles Heel, and you have it!”

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know what book you’re talking about!” she stomped and swung her arms, as if she wanted to punch something. Exasperated, she looked to my empty desk. “Is it that cyan one you keep writing in?”

“Yes!” It felt like a gotcha moment. She knew what book it was. It proved that she had snooped about it. “The one I left without supervision yesterday. The one I lost when Casey Harris, one of your jock barbarians, just so happened to trip me in the stairs today!”

“Don’t you dare lump me together with those idiots!” she shouted.

“They’re your idiots!” I properly screamed. “You jocks are all the same. I can’t believe you made me think you were any different!”

That was my last attack. Mandy’s defensive timeout was over. Fact of the matter is, I never had any chance against her as an opponent. A simple shift in her posture, a chill to her gaze, and I was already beginning to lose. Physically, she stomped closer to that middleground I so desperately wanted to hold. Instinctively, I shied away from her.

“If I’m such a stupid jock, why would I want your physics notes?”

“Because-”

“No, shut up! Don’t run that spiel again, I already know it by heart!” In that squeaky voice she would read my fiction behind my back, she mocked me to my face. “I’m Beatrice, and if I don’t have those notes, I’ll fail that class, and then I won’t get into blah-di-blah, and then I won’t be the first bitch on Mars~! When I’m there it won’t matter that I’m all alone! ”

I was stunned. Even back then, when we were still enemies, this would have been below the belt. Her mean spirited caricature of me didn’t help. I felt sucker punched right in my deepest insecurities. Mandy scoffed.

“See, doesn’t feel that good, does it?”

“You’re mean.” I whimpered. “You’re nothing but a bully.”

“Says you? You get what you give.” She squinted at me with her bitchy eyes, fully back to the Mandy Wiles I had once known. “If you make me into a villain, I will be a fucking villain. For being a kid-genius you sure are stupid.”

My lip quivered. “... I really thought we were friends.”

“I thought so too.” To my surprise, her lips shook just like mine. I’m the one who averted my gaze to the dusty carpet. “That’s why I’m hurt when you accuse me like this. ‘Cus here I thought-… It doesn’t matter.”

I should have hugged her. I should have opened up and told her, asked for her help. Instead I stood frozen in social awkwardness, only to miss my chance. Mandy read my inaction as hostility, and roughly pushed me aside.

“I hope you find your stupid book, nerd.”

Once again that word was an insult. Once again she despised me. She stormed out, and I nursed the hurting elbow that had banged into our closet.

I shrank in the vast emptiness she had left me in. Sobs that wanted to wail were restrained inside my chest. My breathing ran in a square, helplessly counting seconds, just like that young girl who wanted to breathe away her homesickness. It didn’t matter that I was older. I still wanted to go home , and disappear from Bullworth in all of its entirety.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, between my notes being stolen and my fight with Mandy, I was not of sound mind. I couldn’t plan ahead. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t figure it out. I couldn’t realise the obvious danger I had completely missed.

A knock at my window startled me. I hurried towards it to investigate, only to find Jimmy clambering on to the brick wall. Considering that mine and Mandy’s room is on the second floor, I hurried to open it for fear that he would plummet to an injury.

“Why are you here?” I shriek-whispered, frightened out of my fit of depression.

“Because they finally boarded up that window in the attic.” he shrugged with a smile, relieved to hold his red-tired grips at the open window frame instead of the stone window sill. “I couldn’t sneak in my usual route.”

“O-oh.” I took off my glasses to dry my tears.

“You okay?”

“No, but-” Nostalgia washed out my reasoning. Jimmy walking in on Mandy bullying me was just the same as that fateful first meeting that had cemented him in my heart as a hero. It put a faint smile on my lips. “I have a feeling you’ll be able to help.”

He was flattered, even letting go with one hand in order to scratch at his head. His stocky body effortlessly kept steady where he clung, just like a monkey. “Well, sheesh, if you say so.”

“I really need your help.” I put my hand on his. “Really, really need it.”

“Think we can talk about this outside?” he nodded to the ground. “Someone’s going to spot me soon. I just came here to invite you out to that carnival date again, in case you changed your mind.”

“You remembered?” I sighed, admittedly already amorous like that of an addict about to reunite with their drug. “Oh Jimmy, I- I shouldn’t-”

“I’ll eat you out.”

Were this a game of cards, he had just revealed an ace. The bluntness of his solicitation dumbfounded me. In earnest, this sudden suggestion did make Jimmy seem rather desperate to make me come with him, but that’s something for me to notice much later. In the moment I simply flushed.

“I mean…” he smirked. “That usually helps.”

“Okay.” I said, very quietly.

“Great, I’ll meet you outside. I think someone’s coming!”

Just like so, he let go and dropped to the ground. Invulnerable as always, he landed safely in order to make a running start away soon after. I didn’t linger to see who was patrolling, afraid of being incriminated. Window shut I had the banal thought of changing my uniform into a cute outfit. I decided against it, stressed enough to speak with Jimmy in private. Whatever he promised me, this wasn’t a date, it was crisis intervention!

On my way down the stairs, I found Mandy sitting in the lounge area, by the usual huddle of popular girls. She alone shot me an acid glare. Whenever they were meant to talk shit about me, Mandy hadn’t started them yet. My first instinct was to pass them without a word. Then I realised something. I should never go anywhere without telling anyone.

“Mandy?”

She didn’t expect that. Surprise made her act fast. Before her friends had time to question it, Mandy was out of their castle to meet me.

“Are you here to say you’re sorry?” she asked, bitter.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” I bit my tongue. Best not elaborate. Not with everyone watching. Keeping this brave face, I continued: “Also, I’m going to the carnival with Jimmy tonight. I’ll be home late.”

“... Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.”

She couldn’t cross her arms any harder. We were stuck at this impasse. Unable to bear it, she threw her arms out, becoming bigger like a gorilla trying to frighten me.

“You can’t believe that he actually likes you ?”

“So what if he does?”

This resistance to her threats worked. She stood still, trying to comprehend why the great-ape tactic didn’t scare me like usual. I bolstered my own spite in this marginal victory. Against my better judgement I decided to jab at her, right in our previous fight.

“As a matter of fact, I owe this to you.” I straightened my back. “Thank you, Mandy, for helping me get medication for my cold sores. I feel much more confident with boys now that I won’t need to worry about spreading any STD’s.”

Mandy slapped me. She struck me across the cheek. It was a movie moment, the way I nearly fell over from the force of it. My glasses just barely stayed on. It stung horribly. Pins and needles like I’ve never felt before tingled in my face. In a spectacular role reversal, Mandy was the one with tears in her eyes.

“You just don't get it!” she screamed in my face.

Mrs. Peabody was stomping towards our fight, already shouting something about violence being forbidden all across campus. That impending lecture didn’t give me a chance to breathe out the slightest question of what I didn’t get. I turned my tail and ran away.

Jimmy stood just outside. He must have heard that something had happened through the door, because he was on high alert when I exited. My burning red cheek, singular, was another hint he couldn’t ignore.

“Are they chasing you?” was his immediate question.

“I don’t…” I stammered incomplete, not knowing anything.

“Here, let’s hide!”

He took my hand and dragged me away from the beaten path. There was a practised ease in how he avoided Mrs. Peabody’s blind eyes, already taking us around the corner of the building while she came out to scan the road ahead. Stopping unseen, the ivy at our backs, we both breathed heavily.

“Mandy said I don’t get- Get what exactly? Why was she crying?” I asked the air, not expecting an answer out of Jimmy. “She’s right, I don’t get it! I’m just- I can’t-”

“There, deep breaths, let’s just keep our heads down.”

His high alert didn’t stop. Still holding my hand, he led me onwards around that cramped alleyway between the dorm and the wall.

“We should walk around here. Have them lose us. You’ll be fine, Beatrice.”

“I trust you Jimmy.” My voice shivered in a way that might have been laughter. Some kind of joy. That will in my memory forever be a resplendent irony.

When we turned the corner to the long side of the dorm, I got attacked. An unseen person, hidden just around the bend, leapt out to grab at me. The deep breaths Jimmy had asked me to take got filtered through a soggy cloth pressed over both my mouth and nose. It all happened so fast.

In hindsight, I thank Mandy for slapping me. By loading my system with adrenaline ahead of my victimisation, I managed to think fast. The chemical I breathed in smelled sweet, yet pungent in a way reminiscent of nail polish. Having smelled that recently, again thanks to Mandy, I realised what it was: Chloroform. Whoever had gotten me expected me to go down, just like the movies.

Fun fact about chloroform! It doesn’t at all work like in the movies! 

But my attacker didn’t know that, or know that I knew that. Through my adrenaline, I fell into my best acting role so far: Tree in the forest, also fallen down. My limp body was held, and briskly lowered onto ground that was much too soft.

“What. The. Fuck.” Jimmy’s voice echoed in the alley. I could hear his feet step closer, close to my head. “You didn’t tell me about this?!”

“James, if you knew you wouldn’t have agreed to lead her here.” At the time, I couldn’t believe it. Gary Smith. That smug, smooth, demanding yet demeaning voice couldn’t be anyone else. His person also matched the height of the frame that had attacked me.

“No the fuck I wouldn’t! I thought we would talk it out here?”

“Where all of Bullworth can overhear or walk in on us? Tsk, get yourself together and help me roll up this carpet.”

“You prepared a carpet!”

“Yes, I did, Jimmy! We’ll only get away with this if you stop your whining.”

The aggressive shuffle between the two men played out to all my senses but sight in a vivid way. It took focus to keep my expression dead, my eyes closed, and my breathing faint. It left none of my faculties to analyse what was actually being revealed to me in their dialogue. Their constant movement suddenly slowed. Both of them stood, as far as I could hear, very close to one another. Jimmy’s breathing was audibly worked up, for my sake, perhaps. Gary in contrast was a silent ghost.

“Just follow my lead.” Gary said. His tone was earnest. “I have a plan.”

Then I heard a chaste kissing noise.

All of my cultivated self control wasn’t enough to stop my eyes from flying open! Wide eyed, staring through my glasses, I saw Jimmy and Gary standing intimately close to one another! The kiss appeared to have been placed on Jimmy’s forehead, shyly bent and presented. Gary’s arms were gently holding Jimmy’s upper arms. The soft romance of this reassuring moment was indubitably just that: Romantic!

The one thing that wasn’t, was how both of them immediately noticed my open eyes. In a case study of how these boys differ from one another, they had vastly different reactions. Gary paled at the realisation that his plan had already failed, that I had witnessed this exchange, and that he would need to think of a solution fast in order to undo it. A thousand fast thoughts flashed before his eyes. Jimmy didn’t think. Jimmy acted.

His fist slammed into my head with such force that I instantly passed out. Everything went black, and time appeared to pass as if I was asleep. Both fast, and very slow.

The reason I had immediately played along with Gary’s attempt to chloroform me was that extended exposure to chloroform can cause brain damage. This intention to protect my most precious organ seems inconsistent with the fact that being knocked out like that ought to give me a concussion and then some. I still can’t explain why it didn’t. It might just be something very special about those magical hands of Jimmy, heroically sparing his victims of violence from any long standing consequences. It does matter, while it also doesn’t.

When I woke up, I had no idea where I was.

Chapter Text

I awoke in physical discomfort. The fact that they had left me resting on the same carpet that they had transported me in might have mattered, were it not for the awkward positioning of my arms. The very first sensation that pierced my veil of unconsciousness was a thousand ants crawling inside my brachioradilis muscle. I was resting on it, on my side, both of my hands crudely tied together behind my back with a stiff plasticy rope of sorts. I stirred, groaning lightly without any praticular control over my waking body.

"Ah, so you're finally awake."

My glasses were crooked, both nosepads pushed right of my nose from my sideways rest. It still gave me enough corrected vision to go from groggy to wide awake as I took in my surroundings.

Gary had been the one to adress me. Gary was right in front of me. Although it was just a rickety foldable chair, he sat in it like it was a throne, and he was the crooked king of his own evil kingdom. Freed from his bored wait, he was leaning closer to me with a smile, of sorts, spreading across his face. I don't know if I can in good conscience remember that as a smile. It was at the time more along lines of spread lips around bared teeth, and I was terrified.

The room was as alluded to completely foreign to me. From the bearskin rug to the bed built on boxes, I couldn't guess what kind of house I was inside. It smelled like spilled beer, fermenting seaweed, and cigar smoke. I would have tried to take stock of the furnishings as hints, but I was too preoccupied with my kindappers.

Jimmy sat propped against the wall, completely engrossed in reading my physics notebook. His legs were crossed, and it seemed his relaxed position with a backrest had been swapped for a forward leaning hunch that alarmed me. His blocky face was contorted in an expression I still don't know how to describe. It wasn't good.

"M-my book-" was the first words that left my dry lips.

"Oh yes, your book." Gary repeated. "Hear that Jimmy? She's awake, so time's up. Give it back."

"I'm not finished..." He grumbled, but nonetheless closed it up.

As he unfolded himself from the floor, I noticed that my pages had been marked with a litter of different colored post it notes. As a big fan of stationery I knew at a glance that they were not regular page marker stickies, no, they were your regular full sized post its cut to size to get more tabs out of the same paper. From the chunked groupings of color, I knew immediately what they represented.

"You broke the cipher." I said.

"Cipher? You call that a cipher? Even an idiot like Russel could have sorted out what pages were prose and notes, wihout needing to figure out the asinine counting method you insisted on using." Gary bit back, acid as ever. He accepted the book from Jimmy. With a flourish he thumbed open a marked page, and held it up in contrast to the notes next to it. "For crying out loud, you write two rows of text per line here! It's a visual brick wall compared to your airy homework. But I get it, I understand, you don't want to waste paper when you're writing this kind of smut, do you?"

I was stunned. Jimmy harked his throat.

"It was pretty hard to read text that small."

"For you." Gary rolled his eyes.

"You've both read it?" I whimpered. My position on the floor couldn't be more vulnerable. They loomed over me, standing or sitting, and I would have preferred to get my guts kicked in than to stomach this realisation.

The boys exchanged a glance.

"As I said, I'm not finished." Jimmy shrugged. "I got to the part where we're inside of the boat."

"Oh my god, please don't read further!"

"No, she's right." Gary agreed, to my great surprise! It was made more understandable by his dismissive face of disgust, refusing to look at either me or Jimmy. "That's enough for you, trust me."

Jimmy huffed and stepped about, showing the verbal message of 'that's not fair' in nothing but body language. My face was paling, realising now that me and Gary were most likely both thinking of the scene where I had fake Jimmy douche himself in preparation for anal sex. It had felt interesting enough when I wrote it! Now, it made the pit in my stomach that much deeper. My jaw shivered as I managed to correctly assume my realised fears worse than previously.

"How... How many times-?"

Gary shot one sideways glare down at me. "Thrice."

Embarrassment weighed on me as if I was on the surface of Jupiter. All the same, I had nowhere to run. My feet weren't bound, but what was the point? These two would catch me, overpower me, and bring me back before I even could dream of getting the door open. I didn't even know which door lead out of this strange house, or how far away I was from Bullworth! I heard the ocean. But had they transported me by car (somehow?) or bike (somehow??) I didn't know. Even trying to leave seemed riskier than staying put.

"Don't just stand about, Jimmy. Get to it."

I curled up in fear, expecting the torture to begin. To my surprise, Jimmy's hands were gentle enough as he sat me up, and pulled me backwards a little bit. I could feel the edge of my kidnapping carpet under my seat. They had unrolled me here with a purpose to keep me in this general area. I opened my eyes, struggling from sheer nervousness rather than purpose while Jimmy separated my bound hands. A bit too expertly he rejoined them on the other side of a table leg. The connotation to BDSM made me close my knees hard, happy that my skirt hadn't fallen in a compromising manner. At no facet of my fear did I think truthfully think I was about to be violated. No, this place was where I had to answer for my crimes of violating them.

My new position was still facing Gary's chair, with just marginally more dignity than the previous. He was leisurely going through my book with a thoughtful face.

"Judging from the dates of you lesson notes, I can safely deduce that you've been writing these for monthts. Is that correct."

"Y-yes."

"There are also entries missing."

"Wha- ow!" I yelped because Jimmy tightened the knot a bit too hard.

"The beginning. The me in the text is referencing an earlier meeting on the night of the confession." Impatiently, he tickled a group of post its with his fingers. As my reaction was still a dumbfounded stare, he frowned deeply and sought through the text. "I quote: 'Do you remember by the fence?', skip, skip, come Jimmy: 'That therapist of yours said you loved me or something and that's like the funniest thing I've heard all year."

"Stop!" I cringe. "Please don't read it out loud, I'll die."

"Funny you say that." Gary scrunched up his nose. "I felt similarly, while reading it silently."

"I'm- I'm so sorry-"

"I don't think you are, now answer my damn question! Where's the missing entry?!"

Steadily his voice was rising to shouting. I had been scared of Gary previous to this intense meeting. The feeling was all the same, but infinitely deeper now. His wrath had never targeted me so specifically before. Seeking any kind of shelter, I turned to Jimmy. He had finished attaching me to the table, and met my seeking gaze with pity. I gasped when he reached for my face. All he did was correct my glasses, so they sat properly on my nose.

"Please Beatrice. Just tell him."

"Okay." I swallowed hard in my dry mouth. "It's just one entry. It's in my previous physics notebook. It's inside a drawer in my room. I started writing this story there, but I ran out of pages after that one entry."

"What do you mean this story?" Gary scoffed. "Is there more?"

"None!" I lied through a cracking voice, and it felt obvious. "I mean, maybe, it's- It's just not the same, I promise."

Jimmy sighed. He got back onto his feet. "I'll go fetch it."

Loud enough to fill the whole room, Gary let out a "Hah!". I could tell how Jimmy froze up. That first slab of laughter had a smaller drip of evil giggles bleed after it. It stopped as suddenly as it had started.

"No." Gary's word was final. "The hell you won't, you traitor."

Out of the chair, Gary stood behind Jimmy with a looming threat that Jimmy just took. No resistance! Clawlike fingers stroked up Jimmy's tense arms. Roughly, Gary pulled at them to a pose similar to mine, joining both of Jimmy's hands to be bound. He got a new rope, a rope I could see, that didn't look plastic at all to me, and started restraining Jimmy. All the while he forcibly shuffled them both over to the other table leg next to mine. There he forced Jimmy down to sit, breath heavy in indignation.

"You seem to forget that you're just as incriminated as her, Jimmy-boy! Don't you dream that I'll let you go outside now. What are you going to do? Call the cops on me? Come back with prefects? The press? Just imagine the headline 'Student Kidnapping - Psycho on Parole Back Behind Bars!' No, you're going to sit tight. You might have been a hard nut to crack, but not her. She will crack, and you'll be here to answer for your god damn crimes. I'm not losing now..."

All my safety, all my hope, they had willingly been reduced to my very same position. Now it was me and Jimmy against Gary. The captives on the floor versus the villain in the chair. A brief rememberance of the romantic situation I thought I had caught them in before I was knocked out showed in my brain. It didn't feel true. It contradicted how both of them were treating each other now. It didn't make sense.

Gary had a watch on his wrist. It was too small for me to read. Judging from the windows, barely hidden by dingy curtains that might have looked expensive once, it was already late. As a rat backed into a corner, I got filled with the most asinine of determination. At this point it was up to me to get over my embarrassment and straighten out whatever misunderstanding fueled Gary's paranoia. I had to save Jimmy. I had to save myself.

"Gary... What game are we playing?"

"What are you on about?"

"You said you don't want to lose." I tried to keep my expression steady. "It's... Not a game, is it?"

"Might as well be." he sighed. Something seemed to be going well, since I was bending over backwards to adapt to his worldview. He went on: "That game would be life, wouldn't it? I can tell from your text that you know full well that I lied my ass off at the fountain, but there is some truth to it. I want to graduate, and get on in the world. I'm going to leave this town behind..."

Frustrated, his leg was bouncing. He had rolled up my notebook so that he could twist around in his grip. I did my best not to imagne that book as a neck. It would have been kitten sized either way- No! Didn't think about it.

"But the point of it all-" he started preaching, loud and clear with conviction that shook me. "Is so that I can come back a self made man and prove all of my enemies wrong. 'Some' say that high school is the best years of your life, all jocks and nostalgic idiots, I swear. The best years of my life is when I can meet absolutely anyone who knew me as the expelled freak, and instead of having them feel pity towards me they will feel fear. Nothing but fright that they managed to look down on me back then, now that I'm so far above them. It's a humble dream, isn't it? Little miss Nobel prize?"

I was shaken. He knew enough about me to prod at my weak spots. All the same, I felt swept away by his speech.

"N-no, you're right. I also dream of... Proving people wrong. Becoming better than... Them."

"You do? Isn't that sweet." his saccharine smile managed to fool me for a second. "I'm glad you and I can relate so well."

"Mmhm!"

"Especially since I've never given two shits about you. You're an insignificant wallflower of a nerd, who has never bothered me once in all of our years at Bullworth. The only noteworthy thing about you amongst your peers has been your gender, and excuse me for not being the feminist you wish I was, but that just makes you worse."

How the most indulgent of my fantasies came back to haunt me. Gary stood up from the chair, waving my rolled up book not like a preacher would wave a bible, but rather like they would wave satanic texts. I felt threatened that he would start hitting me soon.

"Being a woman stunts your risk assessment. As soon as you scream some prefect comes running, as soon as you cry some friend is there to coddle you. Did all of these societal structures somehow fool you that you could plot against me and get away with it?! You've taken my name, my likeness, my very being and perverted it all, Beatrice Trudeau. For that, I am willing to make sure you never, ever realise your puny dream of proving anyone wrong. I don't even need to stop you. All that it takes is for me to spread some rumor based in truth that will haunt you for the rest of your life. Who cares if you got your little swedish placard of nobel shit when all your highschool classmates will see you as the idiot who messed with me!"

Jimmy let our a bored groan. Bored! Loud and assertive, he stopped Gary in his rambling tracks with a single guttural noise. Head crooked, he gave Gary a deadpan look.

"Will you get on with it, shitface? She's already scared of you, don't rub it in."

"Jimmy, did I ask for your opinion?"

"Bitch, you said you would make her crack! Have her tell the truth!" Jimmy barked back. "I want to hear it, so could you stop ego-jerking for one moment and ask a relevant question?"

Gary crossed his arms, and for a moment his leg bounced while standing. Jimmy taking the crossfire from me was but a momentary reprieve, but a welcome one. I was cowering where I sat. This interruption did seem to calm Gary slightly. He turned to me and shrugged.

"So you think it's that easy? Well then, Beatrice, did Jimmy ask you to write porn about us?"

"WHAT? NO!"

"Oh, that's so rehearsed." Was Gary's immediate answer.

"Are you serious Gary?!" Jimmy groaned again, squirming against his table leg hard enough to budge mine.

"You had time!" Gary shouted back. "All it would've taken at that window was 'deny everything' and your mutiny would be safe!"

"Whose mutiny??"

"Shut up, pervert! Learn to read some context clues, will you?"

Gary crouched by Jimmy, getting down to his level only to grab a fistful of his collar. I couldn't possibly construe any affection in this staredown, no matter how I tried. They hated each other, for sure!

"Jimmy..." Gary said, obviously trying to calm himself. "See where meddling in my interrogation got you? I trust you even less now."

Jimmy didn't respond. He was busy keeping his breathing level. Full eyecontact. Gary let go of him with a slight push.

"So no more bright ideas or suggestions for questions okay? I'm in charge of this messed up situation!"

"Yes!" I said. "You're in charge Gary."

Being eager to please did seem to bolster Gary's mood, so that was good. Jimmy on the other hand shot me a judging glance. I guessed at the time that the mutiny was mine after all.

"Well then..." Gary took a seat at his throne again. "What happened in the missing entry?"

I hesitated. "You... want to know?"

"Yes, genius, I want to know. Take your time, and tell me everything that we've missed. I need to know. For context, alright?"

I was breathing through my nose like a puppy that had been kicked. Still cowering, but unable to cry. I did think my voice sounded extra whiny as I begun speaking, but I had to cope with the situation somehow. My first try to describe that missing chapter was in broad strokes, but Gary stopped me. He wanted to know all the details. So I did my best, starting over. I set the scene of Gary pacing the yard, spotting his visitor. I described the way Jimmy had flipped him off once, and then twice. Real Jimmy chuckled at that. I described how they met by the fence, forgoing any greetings. I couldn't remember the full scope of dialogue, but I did retell fake Gary's troubles with his psychologist. I even highlighted how Gary's outburst caught Jimmy's fingers in the chainlink fence, before they parted.

All throughout this recount I felt lightheaded. Perhaps even high? I couldn't help but feel like Gary was interested rather than disgusted by my writing. He listened with a serious face, brows drawn tight in thought rather than rejection. He even nodded when I described how the orderlies restrained him, as if he confirmed that my imagination of that had some basis in reality?? That little nod was a hit like no other. I understand why Earnest got fooled by this dangerous man. When you're in his good graces, you feel it like no teacher can make you feel... Or maybe my perspective is warped, since I was literally kidnapped and desperate for any sort of comfort.

"... so to hide the tunnel, Jimmy biked off along the road into town." I concluded. I swallowed, blinked in pain, my throat feeling sore from dryness. "I'm sorry, but that's it. M-may I please have some water?"

Jimmy cocked his head my way. "I think she deserves that. Come on, Gary."

"Hmph!" He squinted at us both. "She just might, but I'm not going to give it to her."

"Man, really?" Jimmy grunted, squirming and twisting against his restraints again. "Fuck, are you that scared of untying us for a fucking moment?"

"It's simple psychological warfare."

"W-wouldn't it like-" I tried. "Wouldn't it sort of soften my psyche if you gave me water though? You could hold the bottle, and I could still be bound?"

"Ew, no, gross." There it went. My feeling of Gary caring about me fell back to zero. "Like you're some kind of animal? Well, I bet you'd get off on that... Nevermind. The anwer is no, you're going to suffer like a human until I'm done with you."

I hung my head in shame. Maybe I would get off on that. I didn't know. I suddenly remembered Mandy pulling at my hair in the diner. Oh my god, Mandy. The thought of her refueled my determination to fix this. So I faced him again with a weary smile.

"Okay. Did that missing entry answer any questions? Or do you have more?"

A thoughtful Gary seemed to have a silent conversation with a thoughtful Jimmy, the two of them just looking into each other's eyes. Gary's leg was bouncing again.

"No, it's still about the same." He said.

"Yeah, about the same." Jimmy agreed.

"So you're still in the shit."

"I'm still tied up, jackass."

"Will you admit that you told her then?"

"For the last time Gary, I didn't!" Jimmy said, loud with enough hurt in his voice for my heart to clench. He shrunk, his posture tightening, and just like a younger boy would, he insisted while facing the carpet: "I swear I didn't tell her, okay?"

"And therein lies our issue." Gary sighed dramatically, trivialising Jimmy's hurt with a flick of his wrist. His scarred eye bored into me again. "Are you with us, Miss honor student?"

I nodded, to afraid to speak.

"- I - sure as shit didn't tell you. If I did, I wouldn't have so many questions about this dirty fanfiction of yours-"

"Uhm, actually-!" I dared interrupt. "It's not fanfiction, just fiction. I'm not a fan of you, I'm like... Your classmate."

"... Odd hill to die on, but sure. What I'm saying is, I didn't tell you, and if Jimmy insists he didn't, who did? Because that will lead me to who else Jimmy told! It's a simple process of elimination. You have somehow found out the truth, and now I just need to find out how far it has spread."

My mouth gaped and shivered like a dying fish. "T-the truth...?"

"Oh for fuck sake- Me and Jimmy are dating, you blunt bumbling idiot!"

Gary kept ranting. I looked up at him in abject awe, in too much disbelief to have any room for fear.

"It didn't happen exactly as you've written, you missed a lot, but it's close enough, with all of these fucking locations, internal reasonings, my ploy to keep Jimmy acting like a whore around campus, the poor fucker, and then there's the sex!? Yes, the sex! Nobody would ever think I'm dating this shitstain for his brains, would they? It's all body, loyalty and that infernal fucking stubborness of his, somehow making him willing to put up with me! You know what? As much as I hate that twisted, pansy version of me you wrote, I'm almost a little jealous. If it weren't supposed to be me, I would almost find that character bearable!"

"Gary-"

"Shut up Jimmy! I've worked too damn hard to get my life to where I want it to be, all for it to be busted and chronicled by this horny nerd! I was happy! But since this afternoon it's crumbling- I- I thought I could trust you, Jimmy! You're too stupid to play me for laughs! So I need to find out who the mastermind is, and I need to destroy whoever it is-"

"Gary! She's bleeding!"

I could feel the heavy dribble of red roll down to my lip. My nose must have given out a capillary really close to an arteriole split, judging from the way it quickly cascaded down my face. I had reluctantly closed my jaw, previously dropped, in anticipation of the flow. Just my luck however, my nasal cycle was still on the damaged one. After taking a single gross snort that filled my throat with a wet iron taste, I whimpered on the exhale through my mouth. Small sputters of blood flew out, spotting my shirt just like the large drop starting to drip from my chin.

But who was I to judge myself? The blood pressure in my face and brain had become too much. After all, my dirty fantasies had proven to be true. True enough. True... In the ways that mattered. The boys kept the volume of screaming at each other.

"Fucking help her!"

"No! That's more gross than giving her water!"

"You- Are you for fucking real?"

"Jimmy, shut the hell up! This isn't our fault, we don't have to do shit!"

"Not our fault? Gary, we've tied her up!"

"For her crimes!"

"God damnit, I'm gonna-"

"No, you sit right there-"

Among their bickering like a married couple of incompetent bank robbers, I let out a groan. I wanted to cry, but the only liquid exiting my body was my nosebleed. I felt numb. Helplessness was starting to set in, and my wrists were beginning to ache. If I couldn't save myself, who could?

Chapter Text

In that hopeless situation, I simply waited. Both Jimmy and Gary's voices seemed unimportant to me while I did. The blood running would stop soon enough, so all in all I didn't worry too much about it. All I could do was to uncomfortably tilt my head upwards, lightly to the side to to avoid the table leg. I had to endure the sensation of gravity leading a new rivulet of blood across my cheek. On the bright side, it meant no new blood would run inside of my mouth. I did my best to keep my breathing steady. Although I couldn't see, I imagine my parted lips were a shiny red.

What to do while waiting? Well, I busied myself with counting out who I could count on. It was a bleak calculation. I was kidnapped on Friday evening. All of my friends, who otherwise would notice me missing, were away until Monday. If they had been home, they would find me lacking for our Grottos & Gremlins session on Saturday afternoon. Fatty and Bucky were my sole compadres in town, who might be at the carnival, or rather might have been already. I didn't know what time it was. Either way, I had made it clear that I wouldn't even want to come along, so both of them would assume me safely at home, studying. Their earliest chance of alarm would be Saturday morning... Or at the latest, Monday.

The only person who held any candor of hope was Mandy. She knew I had left with Jimmy, and she knew it would be amiss if I didn't come home this Friday night. As my roommate she would know that something was wrong, right...? No, that hope felt dashed by the memory of her slap. It would not be out of character for me to avoid her when I had made her that upset. Where would I sleep? Why would she care? She shouldn't feel alarmed for me until Monday either, was my solemn answer to this trouble I was in.

Adults were far out of my view. The dorm matrons wouldn't notice. Girls regularly cheated the curfew. The teachers were yet again part of the Monday crew, too far away to provide any chance of rescue. My parents wouldn't know. I had a sobering realisation that I should have called them more often. For a while I drifted into jealousy of Algie and his overprotective mom. She would know her little boy was amiss within hours, and most likely call the police in order to fix it.

I sighed deeply, wondering if the police would even be able find me, if alerted at all. The beacon of law and order that usually shone in my chest had dulled in proportion to the unlawful situation I had put myself in. If I didn't know where I was, how would they ever figure it out? The new blood trail across my cheek had finally started dripping, painting my shoulder red. I felt gross and sticky all over, even if the actual mess was just on my shirt and face.

"Hey, guys...?" I meekly groaned.

The two idiots snapped out of their bickering. I rolled my head to the other side of the table leg.

"What if I need to pee?"

Gary made a face of disgust.

Jimmy furrowed his brows and answered: "We'll let you pee. We'll untie you, everything. Honestly, I wish we could let you go clean up right now, but I think Gary prefers having you look like we've beat you up."

"Ha-ha, very funny Hopkins!" Gary crossed his arms. "I thought I already told you that I'm the one calling the shots around here. You'd be wise to stop butting in."

"Oh, so you prefer having her piss herself? Was the blood not enough for you?"

"Jimmy, she's the pervert, not us! Don't go siding with her just because your heart is all soft and golden."

"You've sort of put me on her side yourself, smartass!"

"Please-!" I managed to stop them again. My whines were pathetic, but earnest in a sorrow I hadn't found until now. "Please don't fight. I'm sorry for writing about you. I'm sorry for... For making you break up! I didn't mean to, I actually always thought you made a good pair, no matter how unbelievable the thought first struck me-"

"Hey, hey, slow down." Jimmy had twisted to face me. His blocky face was so soft in worry. "We haven't broken up."

Gary didn't respond. He was tapping at his arms, staring down at me with thoughts furrowing his brows deep. Jimmy nudged him with his foot.

"We haven't broken up, right?" he asked, his worry taking on a personal note of panic.

"Gosh no. Not yet." Gary said, a pragmatic calm permeating his manners. He strode away from Jimmy and over to me. "I just think we've gotten quite off track... So, Miss Pervert, care to elaborate?"

"... Elaborate on what?"

"What you just said! That we make a good pair, although unbelievable. Actually, when did the thought first strike you as you call it?"

I took a deep breath. It felt as if I stood on a starting block at swimming class, preparing to plunge into the water. But the block was too tall, the water too cold. Just bending down for the dive would put me in a position that made people jeer and holler. I couldn't bear starting my story at the beginning. So I hesitated. "Can you give me a moment?"

"For what?" he scoffed. "So that you can make up a believable lie? One that will hide the mastermind behind this from me? Re-write the story, one more time?"

That was it! His own words lead my thoughts in the right direction. I stepped off the starting block, suddenly free from my metaphorical swimming hall. I'm not even good at sports! I'm smarts, booksmarts, and academic analysis. Circuits connected, and for a moment I started to feel like myself again. I didn't have to be brave or put up a front in order to save myself. I just had to be myself. (Feel free to awww at my revelation, it does feel like a teaching moment.)

"You're right!" I gasped. First I nodded, then shook my head. "Well, not exactly. I don't need to re-write it, you just need to re-read it!"

"What are you on about?"

"Gary, forgive my assumptions, but I'm finally catching up on all the context clues. Listen here, just follow my train of thought: You and Jimmy are dating. So, with that in mind, when you picked up my book and read my stories you actually interpreted my text through that your truth. That's why you immediately assumed that Jimmy had exposed your secret, right? It makes sense from your perspective, because how else would I know? What I'm trying to say is that your interpretation does make sense. If I were you I would also look for some shadowy mastermind behind the scenes for all of this to fit my already established worldview."

Gary didn't seem to be sure himself if I was complimenting or somehow roasting him. He was cautiously stepping backwards, finding the notebook that had gotten discarded on the floor at some point. With a certain degree of care, he picked it back up, all while carefully listening to me ramble on.

"See, I believe that if you re-read this story and instead imagine that I didn't know that what I wrote about was anywhere near true, you'll find more discrepancies than you'll find similarities. Actually, I'm pretty shocked that there are any similarities at all, because I didn't know. Please don't distrust me if I sound like a broken record, but that's the truth on my side. Every single thing in there is made up!"

Menacingly, he didn't open the book. He merely ran his fingers across the post its. Gary stared me down, and uttered a single word, managing to sound so far above me that I shrank back to fear him again:

"Why?"

"Eek!" I squeaked. "W-why what?"

"Why did you make this up?"

"You already know that!" I laughed through my panic. "I'm a filthy pervert. I wanted to read it!"

I couldn't look at him. My cheeks were burning just as red as the blood drying on them. But he wanted the truth, and there it was. I don't know what would have been more awkward: to let me sit there and be ashamed in silence, or for my state of distress to be ignored. Gary chose the latter either way, going on in a pompous voice:

"There are plot holes in your little lie, though. As far as I know, you're crazy about Jimmy, and would do anything for him... Crazy in love, to be precise."

"I was." I admitted, still burning hot and not showing any signs of cooling. "I wrote stories about myself and Jimmy dating before, but they started to bore me. Like... Have you met this guy? I could never make him truly happy, not even in a fantasy world where I make up every single factor. There's not enough chemistry, not enough tension, not enough conflict."

A sudden rememberance flashed through my synapses. I turned my head so hard and fast against Jimmy that my neck hurt.

"Wait a minute, you should know this Jimmy!"

"Who? Me?"

"You saved me from Mr. Galloway when he started going on about sending in stories for that competition. The story I had asked for advice from him was this one!"

"W-wha-" he waffled, taken aback by this confession among many. "I didn't know that! Fuck, I don't even remember!"

"... Mr. Galloway knows?"

"No!" both me and Jimmy replied in choir. I continued alone: "I don't want a teacher to know this! Never, ever would anything good come from a teacher reading the smut of a student!"

"That man rambles about his work to me on the regular." Jimmy said. "I would know if he knew."

"But you don't remember saving me in his classroom?" I accused again. "Jimmy, we made out afterwards!"

"Beatrice, I make out with a lot of people on the daily!"

"Oh my god, this is where it all started... You're a hoe, Jimmy!"

He opened his mouth to voice his offense, but Gary shushed us both. It wasn't a librarian's shush, but it did the trick. His frantically waving hands seemed to threaten violence again. I huffed where I sat, feeling robbed of this simple explanation and alibi. If Jimmy actually cared for me, and was a bit smarter, he could have figured this out without any kidnappings involved! Although I have no proof, I think Gary was thinking the same behind his deeply angry face. He sat down on the chair again.

"So... Am I to understand that all of this filth was merely creative writing written in response to what happened in the world around you?"

This next revelation softened me. I straightened my back, in awe of my own salvation. "No. That's the craziest part. I predicted it, on accident."

Gary didn't need to speak. His entire being spelled "bullshit" in times new roman font, size 12, footnote 9 "she can't be serious".

"You have the proof already." I nodded towards the book in his hand. "You said yourself that you're able to date my writing along with the homework and lecture notes. If you use that method, you can prove me right. I wrote about the riot long before it happened. I wrote you out of the asylum as a joke, because I thought that would never happen. Only in the end is my writing reactive to the world. All of the previous big plot points are... Pro-active."

This finally prompted Gary to open my notebook again. (To think that I would at any point want Gary Smith to do that, wow.) He started flipping around, finding the dates and stories aligned with my claim. I had regained hope in truth now. If Gary followed my word, I would be proven innocent. Everything would be fixed!

When I glanced over at Jimmy, I expected a similar level of enthusiasm. Instead, Jimmy looked more anxious than ever. He observed his boyfriend (!) with despair in the depths of his small eyes.

"Fine."

I perked up to Gary's attention again. "You'll re-read it?"

"You've convinced me thus far... But not you." He pointed a sharp finger at Jimmy. "I still know you're lying to me. Consider it a gift that I'm willing to leave you alone with this potential accomplice for a while but... You know I can't read this with you two watching."

I had a nervous glance of confusion, until it dawned upon me what he meant. He was a guy. There was porn. He doesn't want me to see him develop an erection. To be fair, no matter how much I've written about it, I don't think I want to see that either. It would be too weird.

Gary sauntered off towards one of the doors. It had a board on the wall, clearly once nailed across it, now just hanging limply by a single nail beisde it. With a familiar flourish, Gary twisted the half loose board out of the way so that he could open and enter through the previously off limits portal. I spied a steep set of spiral stairs on the inside.

"So act nice you two! I'll be back before you know it. I'm a fast reader."

The door slammed shut. After the loud bang had finished frightening me, I realised it wasn't completely shut. The board in its usual position acted as a door stopper, probably to keep that hefty lock from trapping whoever entered. For me and Jimmy it also meant there was a crack through which Gary could possibly hear us. I took a deep breath. Then I turned to Jimmy.

He had tears in his eyes. I flinched, unable to think for a moment. Jimmy "King of Bullworth" Hopkins was about to break down crying.

"Jimmy-" I whispered. "Sorry, Jimmy, do you think he can hear us?"

"No." He said, hushed but not silent, his voice obviously thick around a lump in his throat. "Gary likes going all the way up. There's no way he wouldn't... He can't hear us."

"O-okay..." I spoke in a similar volume. My hands were too numb to fidget. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He was a violin string, strung too tight. I got to observe him quiver, growing redder and redder in the face, but he didn't snap fully. A single sob shook his frame on the inhale, and every exhale following it was shaking to restrain the cry that wanted to tear free. There was a single horsehair fiber keeping the connection.

"He said 'not yet', Beatrice. Don't you get it? He's going to break up with me!" Jimmy whimpered. He collapsed forward, bringing both of his hands up to rub at his eyes. Wet tears, not yet fallen, smeared on his fists. "It's all my fault."

"Jimmy- y-your hands-"

"I should just have fucking told him!" he agnonised in anger, gripping his skull like he wanted to tear it apart.

"You're not bound!"

He snapped out of it for a moment. Jimmy was sitting criss-cross-applesauce by his table leg, completely free and able to move around. The rope was on the floor. I must have been overjoyed in that moment, because he had his head turned towards me in apparent shock to see someone so happy.

"You got out! You're free!" I whispered, fearing to be too loud. "You managed to twist out of the knots! Oh Jimmy, I shouldn't have expected anything less of you-"

"No Beatrice." He replied, somber. Still wrestling with his want to cry, he rubbed his sniffly nose. "I was never tied up. Gary needs me to be ready to fight, in case anyone finds us."

I have to admit that my heart fluttered. Jimmy being tied up with nothing but discipline reminded me of an old lanyard of my imagination. Adult Jimmy and Gary would be proud that their real counterparts started so early. Luckily, this secret scene was still secret to only me. I had to hide it, and conveniently he had given me new worries to focus on.

"W-who would find us?"

"Anyone? No one? Man, I fucking love Gary so much, but it's so much easier to love him when the paranoia isn't this active. He's not okay. He thinks the entire world is against him and- Shit, you realise how much your writing has fucked up, right?"

"I know, I'm sorry, but it is all made up. I promise."

"You don't have to lie to me!" Rage came out over his sorrow. The growl of Jimmy had once appeared to me as nothing but the battle cry of a hero. Now I shivered, hearing the warning of a monster."I thought you were on my side, Beatrice! Also- When the hell did you fall out of love with me?"

I swallowed. I still tasted blood. Jimmy's free hands were emoting strongly. Gary wasn't most likely to hurt me. Jimmy was. My stomach was tense, prepared for the worst. But I had to trust my hope, and follow the same path that had allowed me to progress this far. To hell with my shaking voice, it was the only tool I had to my disposal.

"That's... Not really relevant. It doesn't matter. Let's- Let's just try and figure things out? Together?"

He didn't respond, turning his anger inwards. I could only guess how hard he was rubbing his eyes, but the muscles in his arms made my guess pretty accurate. Any traces of tears might just have evaporated from the constrant friction.

"How did you guys get my notebook? I asked around, and neither of you were at my fall."

"Middlemen." he grunted.

"How?"

"I saw our names in your notes! I was supposed to steal it myself on that stupid study session, but you had already left for some reason. I couldn't find you." Jimmy steeled himself. His conviction not to cry was winning out. The emotion of his voice was nonetheless one of regret. "So I told Gary, and he made the plan. He asked Casey to trip you, paid in cash for some casual sadism. He also tasked some nobody to make sure Casey got caught? I heard there were marbles... Fuck, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Casey got thrown in detention, so that Gary wouldn't need to bother with him anymore."

He shook his head. "I tasked Pedro to switch out the notebooks, said I needed to cheat on the test. It was an easy lie. And Bucky's notes were fucking dogshit compared to yours... Pedro handed me the book, and I just strolled to the back of Harrington House to hand it to Gary. I didn't even look inside. I just figured Gary would fix everything... He got a hold of me some hours later, and sent me straight to your dorm."

I nodded seriously. The entire story checked out. I actually felt pretty stupid for having forgotten to consider any middlemen in my own speculations. Another unfortunate circumstance was that none of my friends had mentioned Jimmy visiting the session yesterday. Although, I could imagine they didn't want to upset me by informing me that I had missed out on some quality time with Hopkins himself.

"It's okay, Jimmy." I said.

"It's all my fault. I'm too fucking gullible." He snorted hard. "If only I had read it myself I could have confronted her, without ever bringing you into it."

"Her- Who are you talking about?"

"She told you, Beatrice. I know she did."

"No, in the most serious sense Jimmy, I am not lying to you. I made every single part of that story up. Nobody has told me anything." I sighed. All the same, I needed my temper. Unwinding Jimmy was like pulling the thread of a knit sweater. Bit by bit, I found his naked truth underneath. I lowered my voice to a whisper again: "But for the sake of your sanity, who are you talking about?"

"Zoe." he whispered back. "You wrote it in. Before the boat. We've broken up, and you know about it. So she has told you."

"Jimmy... You're not wrong. She told me about you and her, but not about you and Gary... Do you mean she knows?"

"She's always known." To my advantage, he told me everything. "Our breakup was good, I fucking love her still, just like you wrote, but... I became truly single before summer break was over. I didn't have school to rely on. I was bored. I started bothering Gary at the asylum. I didn't know what to make of my feelings, like you wrote, and- I just went to her for support. If I was gonna do something as stupid as courting Gary Smith I had better have a friend on my side. She was there to check my sanity, to... To help me say the right things. Without ever entering the picture, she wingmanned me to where I am today."

"That's so nice of her."

"I know! She's always been nice, wise, just fucking smarter than me! I-" his voice wavered anew. "I was supposed to tell him. I was supposed to reveal it all. Introduce them to each other! I just kept forgetting, kept pushing it forward, kept waiting... I was afraid he would hate her! I was afraid he'd be mad that I kept her a secret! And then all of a sudden he was out, to my surprise, like you wrote, and it was too late to ever say something! Shit, I-"

A gust of wind blew by outside. Both of us fell silent, glancing between the windows and the door where Gary had left. I listened to the ocean waves. Everything was starting to make sense to me now. Gary was right in that Jimmy had lied to him, just like Jimmy was right to not want to tell Gary. Too much was at stake. It was a relief to realise that I was actually not the problem at the heart of it all. Even if I had written poor taste pornography about these two men it hadn't been for naught. With a bit of luck, I could save Jimmy from himself.

"He's going to break up with me."

"No Jimmy, I won't let him." I spoke in conviction that had seemed unthinkable mere minutes ago. "I need you to trust me. I'm not Gary, but I think I can mix enough truth and lies to fix this. I'm smart enough."

Jimmy's armour was off. Beneath my ideal of him as a hero - he was just a boy. A boy afraid to get his heart broken. A boy who looked at me like a dog looks at their caretaker at the pound. Begging to be saved. Slowly, he nodded. Despite my bloody nose, I cracked a wide smile.

"Could you loosen the knots for me? I can't feel my fingers."

Chapter Text

I had a precious half minute to stretch my fingers and massage them to life again. Jimmy couldn't do anything about my bloodstained face or clothes, or even give me water! He held back, all for fear that Gary would notice that he had been messing about. To my grand surprise it turns out that I was being tied up with a RCA cable, poached from the broken arcade machine that had always been out of sight for me. Gary's hurried preparations to kidnap me had apparently not stretched far enough to get two pairs of ropes.

The arcade cabinet stumped me. Everything else about this scary murder cabin by the coast seemed so sophisticated and adult, although run down. The bed on boxes reminded me of my own group's hangout at Dragon's Wing comics, but I couldn't imagine any other clique having a similar place of their own. They always appeared to have better things to do than to hole up in a safehouse. Then there was the difference. Our cellar HQ may be dirty, but it was a lived in kind of dirty. This place exuded an abandoned kind of chill. I can't imagine anyone wanting to ever hang out here.

After Jimmy had tied me back up again, much looser this time, we sat in an awkward silence. I was wracking my brain to prepare for my greatest feat yet: to best Gary at his own game. My lies would have to be watertight, yet still nudge him in the right direction. My preferred outcome was for him to believe it was his own idea to tell Zoe everything, so that he was gaining an ally instead of an enemy. With enough quick thinking on her side, she would know to prentend it was the first time she heard of the boys' relationship.

Jimmy was less eager to spend our time in silence. His stake in my grand battle was apparently (!) not great enough to calm his own ability to chatter.

"So... What's up with you and Mandy?"

"Nothing."

"I heard you guys fight. Were you two friends?"

"... Kind of."

"Huh."

"Actually, we were great friends, but then I ruined it by getting the biggest crush on her, which I ruined again by accusing her of the crime you and Gary committed."

"Shit. Sorry."

"It's okay. It's not like I had a chance."

"... Maybe you do. Mandy hasn't kissed me much since breaking up with Ted."

"I know. She says all boys are stupid now."

"Isn't that like code?" Jimmy chuckled. "It means girls are better, right?"

"I don't know! I haven't been gay before! Could we stop talking about it? You're distracting me."

The mental chessboard that I needed to outsmart Gary Smith was helplessly distant in my mind. Instead I only had Mandy Wiles themed monopoly. I was in debt. Severe debt. Therefore, my required silence lasted for less than a minute.

"Actually, Jimmy..."

"Ask away."

"Do you think she likes me?"

His answer was interrupted by Gary's evil laugh from the stairwell. He must have snuck down the spiral steps to listen in on us. With a theatrical flourish he entered the room, slow clapping with the notebook tucked under his arm.

"Wow, I didn't expect you girls to devolve into that level of desperation while I was gone."

"Come on, Gary."

"What? Our lady friend must have a fetish for the improbable!" he reasoned, as smug as he was mean. "First writing about you and me, and then falling for Mandy? Head cheerleader, queen of the jocks, and her personal number one bully? Oh well, that last one sounds familiar. Seems like you've got competition for the title of biggest masochist, Jimmy~"

Gary appeared positively refreshed when he sat down in his throne again. His desperation had dulled, his anger had subsided, and his pompous crop of confidence had been lavishly watered. If this were an RPG, he was back at full health. I had to swallow hard, and factor in my debuff of being dehydrated and dirty in this fight.

"How do you feel about the re-read?" I asked.

"Good. Relieved, actually." He ran a hand through his hair. "You're one sick pervert, but your claim holds true. You didn't know shit, actually."

"Thank god..." I sighed. My first line of prepared dialogue fit without trouble. "Me and Jimmy have been sitting here and comparing the timeline of reality and my imagination. I didn't ever specify that Jimmy started visiting the asylum before summer break ended, did I?"

"Hmm? No, of course not." Gary eyed me suspiciously. "All mentions of time are loose, as if this could be set at any season, at any point, well mostly confined to the school year, but you catch my drift-"

"I do!" I was certain he was about to keep talking, but I was snatching the reins of the conversation. "Also, Jimmy found out that I did know one thing."

Sharp tension. My move on the bespoke chessboard had made Gary start fingering the edge of the table, ready to flip it. Jimmy didn't appear to be breathing.

"A detail, really." I tried to soften my claim. "Zoe and Jimmy's breakup. I knew they broke up at the end of summer. She told me, girl to girl, when we were competing in the city cleanup competition."

"Is that so?" Gary worded himself on the offense. There was a tension about him that slipped through his nonchalant speech. "I figured you had made that up too. You know, write out the heterosexual competition for your homosexual fascination. When I read it supposing you had no idea it didn't seem too far out of place, especially since it was hidden in the grand scene that tried to turn Gary Smith into a feminist."

"I get it! You hate it! But it's okay. I just felt bad for Zoe, so I tried to write a bit of revenge in my story."

"Is. That. So?" His repeat of the same phrase was sharper. "Because once again, you weren't too far from the truth. After our little facade at the fountain, Mr. Hopkins did have a whole slew of opinions on how I had agitated little Miss Taylor. Let's just say it was dirtier than a moonlit promenade by the beach."

Gary's meaningful glances Jimmy's way made him appear ashamed again. Whatever that was about, I was not privvy, nor had I the time to wonder about! Of course I faltered and hesitated, just enough for Gary to go on.

"I wouldn't call you too smart, Trudeau, but you seem to have a knack for clairvoyance. I've never liked to subscribe to anything supernatural, no matter if it's my own supposed lycanthropy or any person, man or woman, having some sort of sixth sense about things. That's why my re-reading of your smut was laughable. It should be impossible, yet it has happened."

The light in the room were harsh lightbulbs hanging under lampshades that were practically pregnant with dustbunnies. Gary leaned forward, over his lap, and managed to put his face in a perfect half shadow from above.

"I've prided myself on being unpredictable. Do you realise what your little ability has done to that pride?"

"It's not an ability, it was on accident-"

"Just like it's an accident that Jimmy could knock out every single prep in a boxing tournament without any legitimate training in the sport?" His smile was lopsided. "No, talent is never an accident. I've learned that the hard way."

I felt my heart stop. An agonizingly slow shiver ran down my spine.

"I don't have enough proof to understand it." Gary said. "But I do have enough prescedent to fear it. If I can't understand something, I can't control it. In short, I can't control you."

Gary's apparent refresher was dissolving around him. He wasn't feeling better. He was feeling worse. I had feared his initial paranoia, but this next twist to it made me frightened anew. What lenghts would he go to? How far would he wish to dissect my supposed clairvoyance in order to feel safe? I didn't have the slightest idea, even if he truly believed I did. In a way the feeling was mutual. I didn't understand Gary, and therefore couldn't control him. My plan was falling out under my feet.

"So now I need to decide what to do with you." In an almost shy manner he rubbed his hands. "Should I keep you around? Use you to my advantage? Have long talks about my future? Maybe then I'll see if your pre-mediated idea of what I would do is any better or worse than what I'm actually going to do to this shithole of a town?" It was slight, but I caught him holding back a laugh in that dramatic pause. "Or should I just get rid of you?"

"Hey, hey, Gary!" Jimmy barked, shuffling again so that our table moved. I was pulled along that rustle, my whole body stiff like a straw doll. Jimmy was the animated one. "We don't need to do no more! She's fine, isn't she? She didn't know, and she likes us kissing for some reason, so we should just be able to trust her to keep her mouth shut!"

"Ever so naive, Jimmy-boy!" Gary snapped at his boyfriend. "We've already knocked her out, kidnapped her, spilt her blood and told her she was right! That's worse than knowing the truth from the start!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes it fucking is, you imbecile!" He pointed at me. "She can go and tell the cops as soon as she's free. We've already done enough to get expelled, both of us!"

Expulsion being worse than death is a trite joke to me. My life was under threat, while these two boys were worried about losing the world they shared. In a sense it's romantic in hindsight? When I lived through it, my stomach turned when Jimmy earnestly had a halt at Gary's threat. But maybe it's different for them. Both of them had been expelled before.

"A-as if we'd get away with it." Jimmy tried. I could tell he tried.

"We would!" Gary bolstered. "You knocked her out clean without trying! We have more than enough of her handwriting to forge a suicide note! There's a perfectly deep body of water- Oh, maybe we should hide her body in the sunken ship? That would hold some poetic justice, woulnd't it?"

The only lifeguard I clung to in this sea of threats to my life was history. Gary had gone insane before. His behaviour right now reminded me of the ghost stories I had heard about that night of mayhem on the roof. There was such a boyish glee to the way he speculated about his murder plans. I tried my hardest to it all brush off as nothing but crazy talk. A mental health crisis. A need for intervention and help - as long as I survived the night.

"Gary, no!" begged Jimmy, seemingly along the same lines of thought. "Gary, this was your idea! You can get us out of this, just calm down!"

"Y-yeah, you should calm down, Gary." My voice was shaking. "I mean, Jimmy knows me. I'd love to keep this secret, because it's already embarrassing enough for me that I wanted this to be true. I promise! I won't tell a soul, none of my friends need to know."

"Right, friends... Shouldn't your friends be looking for you?" Gary hissed. The thought of witnesses was clearly turning gears in his head. Disbelieving he mocked me. "Don't pretend you'll be able to sweep this little night with us under the rug."

"I could! I'll keep all of this secret! Besides, none of my friends care! Most of them are out of town, uh, but even so they don't bother, I mean- I think they would be worried tomorrow at earliest..." I faltered, speaking slower. My voice was quivering. Feelings were catching up to me. "I guess I don't have any friends that would come looking if I got kidnapped. So why would any of them deserve to know what I'm going through?"

Gary stilled in his descent to madness. He seemed at a loss for words. Then he chose these: "Now that's just sad."

"You don't have to remind me." I sniffled. Through my building tears I forced a smile. "It's working out in your favour, isn't it?"

Like light breaking through clouds, I saw my opening. Hurriedly I continued:

"But some friends do deserve to know! Sometimes, all I wish for is to have a single supporter who could sanity check me when I'm doing something crazy... If I had had that someone by my side, someone I could truly trust, I would have loved to show them my silly stories, and then they could have convinced me it was time to tap out before I wrote you two all the way into the motel!"

Jimmy glanced about in confusion, the only one not in the loop. He got no explanation from me or Gary. We were locked in the scene of that single ray of sunlight. I truly felt like I was the martyr giving my dying wish to save a sinking ship. Relationship? Ship.

"Hell, they would have stopped me before I even wrote you out of the asylum, Gary. And then none of this would have happened. You wouldn't have found my smut, and I wouldn't have scared you so. I- I'm sorry. I think you're scared. I am sorry for scaring you! Please, let me set this scare right, even if it means sweeping it under the rug forever."

"Cute." He was not fully convinced. But he didn't interrupt me.

"I know it's hard to trust people. I don't have too many friends because... I don't. But I think you two boys have more friends than you realise! You should have someone who checks on you, who knows the truth."

This hadn't been my plan. Compared to my plan (too winded and unimportant to write down), this was a haphazard hope tied together with shoestrings of ideation. A desperate attempt to save my life. If I had stuck to my plan, or if this had worked, Gary would have remained calm. I was aforded a single breath. He took one normal breath, and then he stood up.

"You disgust me."

I shrank. I kept my mouth shut.

"You're this desperate to stay alive in Bullworth of all places? You're willing to try and make yourself this special little fairy of reason to me? ME? Have you somehow forgotten who I am?" he screamed at me.

"I never said it had to be me!"

"Oh no, but you implied just enough!"

Gary was making a violent advance towards me. Ever my saviour, Jimmy shot his leg out. Gary tripped. He tumbled into the table. We all screamed at impact. It skidded half a metre from the force. Both me and Jimmy got pulled along, only me being truly tied up. Jimmy let go. I was forced to slump further down, my elbows bending to accommodate and ending up on the ground. It hurt. I was practically laying down, in a perfect spot to get my guts kicked in once more. Luckily the disobedience of Jimmy warranted more attention. My head had ended up on the opposite side of the table leg in my unfortunate twist, so I didn't see exactly what transpired while the two boys started wrestling like dogs.

But I do know what was seen once the door got kicked in.

The first slam on the door was a clap of thunder, but it only shook it enough to make all three of us inside freeze. The second kick came fast. Too fast to have been delivered by the same person. It was stronger than the last. Zoe's big goth boot sent that door flying off everything but its hinges.

She landed from the kick, wild punk rock hair in an extra large hairdo for the friday night. In her hand she held a wooden baseball bat. Coming in close behind her, armed with the same weapon but in metal, branded with the school colours... Was Mandy. Mandy in her usual cheerleading outfit, but with Ted's stolen letterman jacket on top. Both of them looked like angels in that moment.

They saw me, lying in bloody distress, white uniform shirt stained in red, eyes wide open. They saw Gary straddling Jimmy, fist raised to pommel his round head to a pulp. He looked to the door, with that same panic as when I had woken up from the chloroform. Jimmy's fists were on Gary's arms, in an obviously defensive position to keep his assailant from him. There wasn't even a full second of silence.

"wHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO MY ROOMMATE?"

I think I said something along the lines of "I can explain" but it was lost in Zoe's battle cry. She screamed, deep and loud like a lion, rushing into the fray. Jimmy was seeing it coming, but unlike that day at the fountain he wasn't fast enough. This single act of violence had been a long time coming. Zoe punched Gary clean in the face, launching him off of Jimmy in an instant.

"OH MY GOD!"

Freed, Jimmy didn't stand. Jimmy switched sides, his allegiance to Gary coming out on top within him. He reached a hand into Zoe's belt. With immense power, and some innate gift for judo, he pulled Zoe to the ground with him. She fell, and the two of them got locked in a violent wrestle about her baseball bat. Gary stumbled backwards, disoriented, nursing his jaw that I still don't know if it got dislocated or just hurt.

"OH MY GOD!" Mandy shouted for a second time, unable to deal with the chaos unfolding.

"SHUT UP!" Gary screamed back. Through the pain, he articulated well enough at ME. "You said you didn't have any friends! You filthy liar!"

"Mandy- Mandy!" I whimpered. "I need you!"

Whatever coordination Zoe and Mandy had entered with had dissolved as soon as Zoe rushed Gary. On default Mandy had sort of lingered on the outskirts of it all, near the door, pretty much where a cheerleader would stand if this brawl was a legitimate sport. As soon as I begged for attention she advanced to my position. She stood literally over me, ready to defend me from Gary. Her metal bat was a weapon to reckon with. Gary snapped out of his disorientation, and let out a vicious growl to find Mandy in his way to hurt me.

I've never been more grateful to see up her skirt. For some reason she wasn't wearing the safety shorts. I could see her thong. That made me feel things.

Then Jimmy or Zoe kicked the table. I yelped in pain as my wrists got pulled in yet another sudden jerk.

"I won't let you lay another hand on her!" Mandy asserted, oblivious to what just happened to me. In her tunnel vision she only saw Gary Smith.

"So you assume that I have?" he bit back. "God, you jocks are so single minded! Why the fuck are you standing up for this nerd anyway?"

"Why are you together with Jimmy?!"

Jimmy himself perked up. Hearing his name seemed to snap him out of the wrestling frenzy with his likeminded feral ex-girlfriend. For a brief moment, we locked eyes. Then Zoe shoved a hand in his face. But that brief moment was all I needed to realise what needed to be done. My adrenaline was kicking in. The chessboard was no longer relevant. Now we played the brute sport of american football, and I needed some tackling done.

"Mandy! Free me!" I begged again, pain making the convincing easier. She noticed my tied hands, and started to step about my body to crouch behind the table leg. I raised my voice to Gary next. "Please Gary, just let me go! I promise this will make sense!"

"Sense? Nothing in this world makes sense!" He replied, manic. Staggered, he had realised Mandy also knew now, which according to his racing paranoia meant she knew everything. His hands at his temples could not stop the fear from swelling. "The only thing that would make sense in this situation is a knife!"

"Nobody's got a knife!" Jimmy shouted, a bit too much of Zoe's fingers up his nose. He wasn't actually in a position to insert himself in this side of the chaos. "Zoe- stop-!"

"Well I'd like one!" Gary advanced towards me and Mandy. "I bet you'd like one too, to cut that damn cable!"

Like the sitting duck I was, he got a good kick in on my leg. It feels strange to call it good in hindsight. The impact hit my biceps femoris, and tore a pained scream out of me. I didn't know I had that high a pitch within me. Gary would have done more, were it not for Mandy rising to my defense again. The bat swung hard. It made that that telltale noise of air wooshing from that partial vaccuum closing up in the tear the velocity makes. Gary dodged that, evidently concerned enough to avoid the punch Mandy's swing was packing.

"Bea?" I had never heard Mandy so worried. I cringed up at her through my pain, unable to promise that everything was okay.

The table got kicked again. I didn't even vocalise the feeling this time. Voiceless I started to try and tear my hands free myself. That loosened knot Jimmy had put me in didn't feel so loose anymore. Mandy had barely been able to dent the RCA cable's twists and turns in the little time she had gotten with it.

A bottle flew towards me. Gary had thrown it. Quick thinking, but not thought through enough, Mandy batted it away. A thousand glass shards scattered around us.

"GYAAAH!" Mandy screamed.

I was thankful for my glasses, but still cowered in fear of getting any in my eye. Mandy appeared blinded, to the point where I feared her stepping on me. Gary threw another bottle, and this time Mandy blocked it with her full body, unintentionally. That impact sounded like it would bruise. It clattered to the floor, unbroken.

Gary was about to throw a third, a big one, but he changed his mind when he felt the weight of the heavy glass in his hand. Taking it by the neck, just like in the movies, he smashed it against the bar counter. (Damnit, I've forgotten to mention there was a bar. That's where he found all the bottles.) His new improvised weapon broke a little too short to substitute a dagger. It was still sharp enough to count as a shiv.

"Stay back!" Mandy said. She had gotten over the glass-shrapnel scare enough to look at him with one eye open.

"You think I will? Just because you say so?" Gary was ready to kill, seemingly lost in an airy euphoria through his madness. "Why? Why would I?"

Mandy's breath was ragged. Then with some deep seated rage, in an intonation that I'd be able to unpack much later, she replied: "SHE'S MINE!"

Gary threw a smaller bottle right at her head. I saw it go towards her in slow motion. There's no way to condense the intense fear that it would hit her, and hurt her! Mandy managed to dodge. I'm certain the bottle got close enough crest the whip of her ponytail before crashing to pieces behind us.

If it had hit her, Mandy would have been wide open for Gary's rushing stab with the broken bottle. Thanks to that dodge she smashed that bat right into his stomach. He fell down, sliding in the broken glass. She raised the bat again to hit him while he's down, and from sound alone I can only suppose he avoided her. I don't actually know. I wasn't looking.

Because I had finally managed to tear one hand free. My other hand was still stuck, but I could finally twist into a position that didn't hurt me. The direction that twist went was towards Jimmy and Zoe. Under the table I could see them struggle against one another, Jimmy currently on top in the wrestle. The wild look of them didn't betray why they were fighting. My heart managed to reach out. Weren't they best friends?

Gary's fall to the floor made both of them flinch out of their own fight, glancing away for a moment. Both of their eyes found my pleading expression waiting for them.

"This is your chance!" If telepathy was possible, I truly tried to say so much more than I had time for. "We'll escape, and you two stay!"

Gary had gotten back on his feet, and had begun to entertain a dance to fake out Mandy and her bat. He was good at dodging, especially since Mandy made large swings almost each time. The reach of the weapon still kept him at more than arm's lenght away from us, but he was gaining advantage through his tenacity. The sharp bottle in his hand was a threat that warranted all of her attention. Mandy would never have time to untie me.

That's why I'm so grateful my stars aligned. The stars in question were the two minds of Zoe and Jimmy. Their wrestle came to a standstill, my plan organically taking root in their heads. It takes two very clever idiots to let go of a violent fight as quickly as those two could. Jimmy got off her, and took the rope he had been fake tied up with from the floor. He handed it to Zoe. Zoe traded him for her bat.

Then the combined steam roller of Hopkins-Taylor slammed into Gary. He didn't see it coming. He didn't stand a chance. While he fought for his life, Mandy didn't waste a second to drop her bat and use all hands on deck to untie me. Metal clattering in broken glass makes a strange sound. By the time I was back on my feet, Gary was face down on the floor. Luckily the tackle had taken him far away from any more scattered glass.

"I'll kill you all!" he snarled, so much more bark than bite.

My body felt numb after the untold hours on this floor. Mandy supported me around my shoulders, ushering me towards the door.

"Take my bike!" Zoe said, voice deep but containing sense instead of insanity.

"I-" My voice was about to give out. "I swear I won't tell anyone!"

"I'll owe you, Beatrice!" Jimmy promised.

That was the last I heard from that cursed room. My notebook was forgotten somewhere it it. It didn't matter. All that mattered was my shuddering breath of fresh ocean air.

I wasn't even that far, it turns out. The bay of Bullworth town stretched familiar before me. The lighthouse I left behind was a known part of the scenery. Below the wooden ramp were three modes of transport. A wheelbarrow, which I had most likely arrived in. A bike, that I knew for a fact to be Mandy's. A moped, covered in band stickers that could only be Zoe's. True to the offer, Mandy took me straight to the vehicle with a motor.

I got sat down on the seat rather than sitting by my own voliton. I felt overwhelmed with everything. The scream I had held in the whole time inside that house was about to rip out of me. Mandy couldn't have known. Still, she gave me exactly what I needed most at that moment. The letterman jacket was off her shoulders. She draped it over my head, enclosing my world in a small darkness I could hide in. The last wall to this tiny cave of cloth was her body. She sat in front of me on the moped, and tied the arms of the jacket around her own neck.

It's curious how mindful of her I managed to be even in that state. Careful of the blood on my face, I pressed only my forehead against her back.

"Hold on." She said.

For a beat I truly thought she meant 'hold on' as in 'stop what you're doing, don't touch me you freak'. Old scars heal slow. But the sound of the motor revving to life taught me otherwise. I wrapped my arms around her waist, and didn't let go. My favourite interpretation now is 'hold on' as in 'hold me closer, I won't abandon you'.

For being the victim of a kidnapping, I felt so ecstatically found.

Chapter Text

Normally I walk my way around Bullworth. Riding a bike among cars and rambunctious students is a foolhardy pursuit, especially so if neither you nor your fellow potential crash-mates wear helmets. One has to protect their brain. I find it easier to dodge out of the way of some speeding bicyclist than to be the bicyclist myself. Walking always makes the world make sense to me. Walking means I know how far away things are, and aren't.

Therefore the blind trip on Zoe's moped totally blindsided me. Mandy slowed us to a stop on coarse sand, not entirely unlike the terrain where we had started. I had been able to tell through sound and feel that we had gone on regular road for a long while in-between, but where that lead us... I was anxious to take my head out of her jacket to figure out where we were. The night sky was bright in comparison to my previous darkness.

It turns out we were at that small beach on the Academy side of the bay, right next to the bridge leading to Bullworth Town, New Coventy and the rest of the east side. The water stretched out calm before us. Mandy stood with her legs stretched, feet burrowing into the sand, all to hold the moped steady. She hadn't let go of the handlebars. The smell of gasoline still floated around us, but the silence that the motor had left behind was a breath of fresh air.

Mandy looked troubled. Her cold gaze was resting on the far shore we couldn't reach. I distinctly remember that I thought she looked fashionable, with the varsity jacket tied around her shoulders just like so. Her perfect ponytail was hardly tousled for all our troubles. It was an artsy magazine cover. She was the frontpage model.

I loved her.

Contrary to this feeling, she bowed her head and grumbled.

"I bet I'm the last person you'd want to save you."

"What? Uhm, actually-"

"No! Shut up! I know I am!" she protested. "I didn't even come out her to be a hero or anything, I just went out looking for you because Mrs. Peabody forced me to-"

Breath suddenly left her. Her very jaw shivered. Tears welled up into her expression like blood from a stab wound.

"So what the fuck even happened tonight? I'm so fucking confused! What did I just rescue you from?"

"It's... Complicated." I hadn't yet decided to tell her.

"Yeah, no shit!"

"Mandy, I'm sorry."

"Fuck you! You can't just beat me to it! I'm sorry!"

I was dumbfounded by this reversal. Mandy collapsed forward over the moped's handles, clinging to them as she lost herself to her emotions.

"I'm sorry for getting angry at you, and I'm sorry for slapping you-" She rambled through her sobs. "I'm sorry for taking so long to leave, and I'm sorry for taking so long to find you! I didn't even know you were gone, Bea! I wasted so much time, and I'm sorry for- Fuck, for being so scared! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for bullying you!"

The sheer catharsis of this scene... I treasure it so immensely in hindsight. Mandy meant every single sorry she gave me, these insane regrets the Beatrice of my past would never have believed.

It was however undercut by my own flustered panic. I was so overwhelmed to hear her say this that I tried to focus on something else, and that something else became her body. I became much too aware of how she was virtually bent over in front of me, and exactly where our hips connected on the seat in a suggestive manner- Let's summarize that it all was a bit too much for me. Overwhelm upon overwhelm, I was desperate to deescalate the situation.

I slipped off the moped. Truth to be told I didn't dare touch her again until my pubic area had stopped touching her butt. But I did take a hold of her shoulder, and gently pull at her.

"Hey, Mandy, Mandy, it's okay." I half whispered, like you do when someone's inconsolable. "Let's just get off the bike. It can fall over."

"But I'm sorry!" she wailed, helplessly. "I couldn't even take you far enough! I don't know if they're gonna chase us, I don't know how far the tank will last, I don't know where to go-"

As she listed all of these things, I did manage to guide her off the bike. She was stumbling in each step. Despite this, she held the bike safe, all while her befuddled feet struggled with the stand for the moped. It didn't flip down easily at all.

"All I can do is take you back to school where they can find us with like, no effort and- FUCK!" Sorrow metamorphosed into rage in an instant. She kicked the moped, already on its way to fall over due to the faulty stand. I got frightened enough to let go. Mandy's stumbling steps made her face the ocean, which could properly accept her scream: "I HATE BEING A TEENAGER! I WANT TO GROW UP NOW!"

It isn't the most eloquent poetry. But when she shouted it across the water, it was art to me. I stood in awe, standing there with blood down my face and staining my shirt still. She cast a glance back at my frozen pose. The following tremble of her was one of fresh shame. My heart went out to her, and I softly said:

"It's okay, Mandy."

"It's not okay, bitch! They hurt you, I hurt you, everyone around hurt you, and it's all my fault..." She collapsed into the coarse, cold sand. There she knelt, weeping into her hands like a child. "It's you who should be the one crying, but I'm still hogging the spotlight like a fucking drama queen. I'm sorry Beatrice!"

I did sniffle. I did swipe at my own nose, flinching at how the dried blood flaked off at my touch. Best not touch more. So I fell to my knees just like her, right in front of her, ever so close to her. I took my dirty hands and gently stroked her forearms. Touched the bars that caged her away from me.

"It can still be okay. I think it's okay." I reassured her. "Because you're here with me."

"No..."

"Yes. It's okay. I'm glad you're here."

"But I'm the worst."

"You're the best." My own tears finally shone through my voice. My confession trickled on: "I was... So scared. Scared that nobody would come look for me. I didn't dare believe... No, not believe, I didn't dare even imagine that you would ever care... But you did! You came and found me, fought for me, took hits for me, untied me, escaped with me- Mandy I'm so thankful I don't know what to do with myself. You saved me!"

I seemed to finally be getting through to her. This other detail is half and half my imagination, but I could feel my tears mix with the dried blood on my cheek. The wetness lingered there, rehydrated it, and rolled down thicker than water. Mandy peeked out of her fingers to see me face her in all of my gross reality. Despite it all, my smile stretched so wide that it hurt.

"So it's okay!" I insisted. "It's okay now."

"But it..." She swallowed. "It happened again."

"Again?"

"They totally did something perverse to you. You were tied to a table for fuck sake!"

"I know what it looked like." For some reason I laughed. "But I promise, nobody touched me in there."

"You sure? You're fine?"

"Yes, I'm fine. What do you mean by again though?"

"I..." She shuddered, and got wracked harder by sobs again. Mandy retreated back into her palms. Through those muffling lattices, she confessed to me in this little booth of our own making. "I totally molested you that night when I was drunk. I was all over you, and like, I never checked that you were fine with it. I just touched and took, like some fucking douchebag guy, so much that you had to sneak away from me and sleep in the other bed. I frightened you, and that's like- That's like rape!"

"... You remember that night?"

"Of course I do! I've just been saying I don't because I'm afraid you'll hate me if you knew I did that without a blackout to blame- But I fucking did all that, and I've wanted to do it again, and I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself-"

"Sssshhhhh!" I rose to my knees, so that I could embrace her head against my chest. "Mandy it's okay. I don't hate you. I'm not mad at you."

"But you hate what I did!" she cried into my sternum. "I hate what I did!"

"I don't hate what you did."

She couldn't talk back. She was too busy crying. To my great relief, I seemed to have reached her somehow. She unfurled from her cocoon, and she hugged me back. Mandy Wiles clung to me as if I was that metaphorical buoy I had written Jimmy to be for Gary. Truth to be told, the words "I love you" were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't bring myself to say them. I was afraid she wouldn't hear me. I was afraid to waste them.

So I held her close, and considered how much it made sense. She had believed our drunken cuddle to be an overstep of criminal matter. That was why she had started avoiding me, sparing me her presence and warmth, all because she believed me to be burnt. How ironic that her stepping that far was what I needed to face my own feelings for her. How bitter that if I had only realised sooner, we could have straightened out that misunderstanding in a less... Straight way.

Mandy was the one to pull away. That cry had calmed her down significantly. It had given her time to think. She seemed grumpy and hesitant, as far as I could read her. I knelt back down, and patiently waited for her to speak.

"... I still don't understand what the fuck happened tonight."

"Then I'll tell you."

She perked up in disbelief. "But you... You said you'd keep it a secret."

"You already know the half of it. Jimmy and Gary are dating."

"WHAT?"

I couldn't help but laugh. It just burst out of me. I laughed out loud, out of relief of finally saying it, saying it out loud, laughing out loud! I laughed until my chest started to hurt. I took a deep snort through my blood, snot and tears.

"Oh my god..." I heaved. "I feel so gross. Can I wash my face? I'll tell you after, I promise."

"Wash it off in the ocean?"

"Yes! Great idea! Saltwater is actually better for dissolving blood when it comes to fabric stains. I think the saline properties will work essentially the same in a good facewash."

"Bea, how the fuck are you so casual about all this?" Mandy stayed put in the sand while I got up and went to the shoreline. "Do you know you just like... Like..."

She was right, even if she didn't have the words to express it. I washed my face in those waves, face to face with traces that wouldn't go away as easily. I still had burns around my wrist from where the cables had tied me up. These precious last hours of this very long day were testament to my own humanity's adaptability. Whatever trauma I will suffer from these events are sure to show up later. As it's happening, they're just happening. I didn't feel the fear I had felt in that lighthouse anymore. I felt the cold water finally wash it away.

My wash was rather vigorous, and water spilled on my shirt. Right as I was thinking it was probably good to get the stains on my clothes wet, Mandy thought the same thing.

"Do you wanna soak the shirt?" She asked, finally stumped enough to be casual about it like me.

"... Then I'd be-" I hesitated, not casual at all about stripping.

"You can borrow my jacket."

It was offered like it didn't really matter. But we both know that it did. The heavy letterman jacket carried baggage. Symbolism beyond being such a iconic jock themed jacket from the start. When Ted and Mandy were together it wasn't entirely obvious if it had been gifted or stolen. Most chemistry between them suggested she had snatched it. Mandy seemed to like dressing in Ted's honor and number like it belonged to her. I don't think he ever asked to get it back. Maybe there were some fights after their break-up that I never heard about, but it seemed the jacket was Mandy's trophy for the whole ordeal. It was too big for her. It was too big for me.

So for me to strip to my bra on that beach and slip into that jacket mattered. I got to wear Mandy's honor, because she had offered it to me. My heart was racing as I buttoned it up.

Mandy seemingly made it a point to not look at me change. She busied herself by looking for a plastic bag in the saddle-storage of Zoe's bike to keep my soaked shirt out of the sand. The trash racoon part of punk blessed us with a veritable treasure trove, with tons of bags. More importantly, there were three cans of Peetza Pop in a half consumed, half forgotten six-pack.

So in the dead of the night, me and Mandy sat at that beach and I told her everything. Aided by finally getting something to drink, I rambled on and on, telling her the full story of my writings, and how Jimmy and Gary came to both feature in them and discover them. Thanks to finally having the answers from the other side I could also properly describe how the mystery of my stolen notebook had come to be, in tandem as I told the story of how it had eluded me. Mandy was thoroughly invested. My explanation of the truth came slow enough to ease her into the truth of Smith-Hopkins romance. She asked most questions when I described the recent events in the lighthouse. When I detailed how they wouldn't give me water she handed me the third can and insisted that I "chug" it as jocks tend to say. I didn't, since me and my friends have already tried that and found it just sends carbonation up your nose and hurts.

"... All of us just froze up on that first kick at the door. Time stopped, metaphorically." I said seriously, hyped up on the sugar. "But then Zoe's kick landed, and you both broke into the scene like absolute angels! I've never been more surprised in a good way ever, I swear."

Mandy nodded. Her smile was soft and sweet. I became exponentially more aware of how much of her attention I monopolised, right as my story waned to its end.

"And... The rest you know. You were there." I concluded lamely. I fingered at the lukewarm soda can. "I'm so happy you came. You were so cool."

"Hah, yeah." She rolled her eyes. Then she muttered through a smirk: "Zoe fucking tricked me. She probably knew Gary would be in there, because when we heard his voice from outside I lost my shit but she didn't. It's okay though, like oh my god, I'm grateful she helped me find you. I wouldn't have without her."

I hummed in agreement. In this brief pause, I took the moment to stare at Mandy's profile. She was so pretty. I fiddled with the varsity jacket's cuffs. Her arms were bare, and as I became hyper aware of that my next words blurted out:

"You look cold. I mean, yes, you do, but you don't have to tell me your entire adventure tonight if you'd rather go inside."

"Nah." She shrugged. "I'm not cold. I don't want to go inside. Besides, that's where Gary and Jimmy will come looking for us. Now that I know everything Gary will want to kill me too, won't he?"

"You sound surprisingly fine with that."

"Hey, we're in this together now, Bea."

"M-maybe!" I flustered. "It's just, uhm, I think Zoe and Jimmy managed to handle Gary. If he escaped from them we would have heard police sirens, or at least the other two shouting in pursuit. We're not sitting that far from the school gates after all."

"Hmmm... I guess you're right." Mandy fiddled with her shoes in the sand. "I still don't want to go inside. I'll tell you my side of tonight."

I distinctly noticed how she glossed over the beginning, the part where we fought, but didn't mention it for the sake of getting her rolling.

"After you left Mrs. Peabody gave me the worst fucking scolding, like, demanding that I go and say I'm sorry to you. I totally screamed at her back, trying to say I was too angry and needed to calm down first. All my girlfriends were super confused, and like I didn't want to tell them why you mattered, so I hid in our room for an hour, I'm sure. I mean- I think so. Mrs. Peabody came knocking, that's how much time I wasted. Then I biked all the way to the carnival.

Now that I know you weren't there I felt so stupid for even paying admission to get in. I was honestly looking for you, but it just didn't feel right. I stood around watching the exit of the rides, thinking you were gonna come out of whatever, whenever. That's when I found your stupid friends, Fatty and the other guy. I cornered them all on my own, and was super angry asking where you were."

"They said I was home studying, didn't they?"

"At first! But I insisted that you had told me you went here with Jimmy, and get this? Suddenly they became all helpful and wanted to help me look for you, except they suggested that we would get a good top-down view if we all went in the Ferris wheel?" She scoffed, crossing her arms harder. "Waaay too many gossip types saw me go in there with them, and both of those dudes looked like they had just won the lottery to ride with me. I was a total bitch the entire ride, and obviously we didn't see you. So done with that, we went back to a secluded spot where I started threatening them again!"

"Well... They lied to you."

"But I still trusted them to know something! But they were being so damn difficult about it, until that skinny dude was all like 'oh I'll tell you where Beatrice is, but you're gonna have to give me something precious' but I think he was just fucking with me. Like, no matter how I pressed he didn't tell me what he wanted?" She was mocking them with her mean voice, but as I listened to her tale I didn't fault her. "I was about to kick his nuts in when Fatty finally said 'we want what's under your skirt!' Like, can you believe them? They thought they could get my panties that easily! I just laughed at them and gave them my safety shorts- but get this, they finally fessed up to having no idea where you were!"

The memory of her thong underwear as seen from below flashed hot in my mind.

"Uhm, are you sure you're not cold?"

"I'm fine, I'm like heated! I got so fucking angry at them I did kick that skinny guy in the nuts!" Her anger had the top dulled off in an instant, since she was talking about my friends. So very cute and bitter she clarified: "But like, that's all. I hope you don't mind. I left them after that one kick."

"He'll manage, I'm sure." I apologetically forgave her actions. "What did you do next?"

"I went to look for Zoe. Because like, Fatty said that they had been at the carnival all night and not seen Jimmy, so I needed someone who knew where Jimmy usually brings his dates. I biked all the way to New Skies, asked around there, until I found Zoe at some punk show? It was in one of the warehouses, and she was in the crowd. I had to wrestle her out of there, oh my god, because she could barely hear me shout Jimmy and your name through the music.

As soon as we got outside she was cool though, and got super concerned like real fast. She geared up her moped and started tearing through all of these places where Jimmy hangs out, supposedly. I just biked as fast as I could to keep up. For example, she like rushed that bar where greasers hang and was out before I had even stopped my bike? Just on and on to the next place!

Caught up to her on the beach, and honestly that wheelbarrow was so out of place that it felt like proof. She and I just snuck up and started hearing Gary going crazy. Zoe went all army vet on me and had a perfect plan on how to kick in the door. But that reaction is why I think she tricked me? If she has known about Jimmy and Gary dicking each other for months she probably knows it's a bomb about to blow. She seemed really surprised to find you being the reason for it though."

"She did? Well she..." A realisation hit me, my eyes growing wide. "She's going to read the notebook, isn't she? I left it in the lighthouse."

"Maybe? Maybe not."

"I... I can't do anything about that. It's out of my hands." I said, trying to calm myself with stoicism. "Hopefully Jimmy can explain the contents well enough, like I did for you."

"I kind of want to read it." Mandy said, mischievous. "Get a glimpse of your kinky side."

She nudged my arm, and I felt myself blush in the dim night. Mandy still didn't realise what power she held over me. My silence was misunderstood, and she backtracked gracefully.

"Just kidding! I won't read it without your permission, I promise, it's just a bad joke."

"It's okay:" I said, much too quietly.

"Stop just saying it's okay, I wasn't even funny."

"Can we go inside now?"

Mandy had a halt. Her own conscience was still weighing on her. Unable to face me, she swallowed at the ocean. If she could, she might have drank it all down to avoid saying what she had to say next.

"... Will you be okay with me there?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because what I said about that night... And then I hit you today. I don't know, it's just all kinds of messed up."

"... Why did you hit me?"

"I can't tell you."

As I've gotten to know Mandy better, I've learned that her heaviest emotion is shame. It sounds unbelievable, but it's true. Luckily for me, I stumbled on the right path to help lighten her load. Tired, a little cold myself, I got up to my feet. My outstretched hand was taken without hesitation. Once risen, she didn't let go of my hand. I held her steady, and nodded.

"You don't have to. Let's just go to bed."

"But I want to tell you!" She blurted out. She hadn't let go of my hand.

"Then let's try once we're inside. I want to go home."

Awful as it may be, have been, and will be, Bullworth Academy is our home for these tumultuous teenage years. The saving grace for Mandy and me is that our home was shared. That small room waited for us to return, together.

Chapter Text

Only once inside the dorm did I finally have access to a clock again. It turns out that this entire misadventure of chaos had run late, but not terribly so? It was about 2 AM when me and Mandy snuck like thieves into the Girls' Dormitory together. Mandy was still sure that Gary or Jimmy could be waiting around any turn, so she took the careful lead. I argue that our main goal was to spare our dorm matrons the shock, ourselves the scolding, and to avoid all possible questions.

Not that a lot of those questions didn't secretly thrill me. Why were Mandy and Beatrice coming back together late at night? Why was Beatrice wearing Mandy's jacket? Was she wearing anything underneath? No? Oh my, whatever for? The entire set-up was so devilishly exciting that I nearly forgot that I hadn't properly confessed to Mandy yet. Our infiltration into the dorm was incriminating enough for us to feel like forbidden lovers.

But I hadn't confessed, had I? When we finally breathed out inside the room we shared, I became hyper aware of how much I needed to do it tonight. It was a sense of urgency closely related to the general anxiety of 'say it now, or hold your peace forever' at a wedding. Not that it was necessarily true? It's just that when your crush and roommate has rescued you from the most frightening night of your life I feel that you narratively owe them a kiss and a confession before you go to bed that night. It's just fair.

What doesn't feel fair is the power of habit, and the dread of teenage awkwardness. I unbuttoned the first button on that jacket and immediately felt the need to turn around. We weren't supposed to see each other naked... Mandy had busied herself with checking the wardrobe for intruders, and under each of our beds. Satisfied with the very empty results, she was turning on lamps. The warm electric light washed over us properly for the first time since we reunited.

"Holy shit, Bea!" she gasped, hand over her mouth.

"What? What's wrong?"

"The fucking bruise on your leg!"

True enough, the edge of where Gary had kicked me was peeking out under my hemline. Curious, I looked behind me in the mirror and hiked my skirt up a bit. It was nasty. I measured it the day after to be 73.5 centimeters squared in area! It sounds like a lot, but that's what 9cm tall, 8cm wide a rough oval-ish shape does to you. What bloomed most deep about it was the colour. Gary had definitely hit a vein. I don't understand how Bullworth boys handle it all, because I audibly winced when I pressed to the swollen skin.

"You okay?" Mandy asked, quick to be at my side.

"I... I think so. You should check yours."

She had clearly forgotten that she had even been hit during that fight. When she hiked up her cheerleading top in front of that mirror we found four points of impact. Three were on her belly, one on her shoulder. She didn't care much for the ones under he clothes, focusing completely on the only visible one.

"Damn... How do I explain that to the cheer team?"

"Uhm, you... You were at the punk show, remember? Somebody hit you when you were pulling Zoe out of the mosh pit?"

"I don't know, am I supposed to say that? I can't really explain why I was there, can I?"

"You're right" I sighed. "We need some kind of alibi for tonight."

"Let's sleep first, okay? You seem totally exhausted, Bea."

"I am." I chuckled, and turned away again. She respectfully did the same, changing into her pyjamas. I didn't know where to hang her jacket, so I nervously just draped it over my bedside. The long night was admittedly catching up to me. As the memories ran, I asked her: "Did you get any glass in your eye? It really scared me when the bottle shattered."

"Not my proudest moment." She chuckled bitterly to herself. "I got totally blinded."

"Really?!"

"Don't get so worked up about it, it's like fine now, I can see-"

"Mandy, that's dangerous!" I interrupted her. "If you have glass shards in your eye you could get permanent vision damage, the type that glasses can't even fix!"

"... Huh." Mandy has at a later date confessed she didn't know there were vision damages glasses couldn't fix. That said, getting glasses would be an equally terrible fate for a jock-queen. Maybe that was why I manged to steer the situation so easily.

"I simply have to at least examine you! Uhm, once you're dressed, go sit on your chair. I'll be with you in a moment."

I swear that my intentions were pure. I swear that I didn't consider how intimate it is to half-play, half-practice doctor on your crush's face. It puts your bodies so very close. Much too late, I noticed I was holding back my breath for fear of tickling her skin...

Besides, when I say that Mandy has pretty eyes I don't just mean the coloration of her irises. I mean the full orb of her sclera, where it attaches to all of its rectus muscle and the poignant corners of her lacrimal caruncle. In search of stray glass I got to part her eyelids far and examine the full deal. She has pretty eyes.

"Now look down again." We spoke in hushed voices in a bright setting. I was finishing the rounds on her second eye, and breathed a sigh of relief. "No, I can't find anything."

She blinked, freed from my prying fingers. The desktop lamp pointed at her face had left her blinded a while. I adjusted it away from her.

"I think you cried it out." That was my medical opinion.

"Yeah, that makes sense." she mumbled shyly in response.

We had reached a tipping point. The indirect light, our already established physical closeness, just all of it. I could feel it in my entire body that this was the moment. Either I confess right here, or we both sheepishly crawl into our own beds, praying for things to go back to normal. A state of normalcy where romance didn't feature. Two girls being public enemies, secret friends, a bit complicated, but nothing more. But didn't we both want more? She regretted the way she had overstepped that night, but she agonized over the fact that she wanted to do it again? I had heard her confession through layers of guilt and disbelief that we could ever be happy. The only one who hadn't been heard was me.

She hadn't heard the way I had longed for her. She couldn't read my thoughts as I dared to dream of matching wedding dresses! She probably couldn't fathom how dearly I missed the smell of her deodorant. The problem was that I couldn't say it. Words failed me. How do you bundle up all these desperate teenage feelings and spread them over a perfectly good relationship? It wasn't even the fear of ruining anything, because all of the evidence had pointed that she felt the same. The fear was to do it, at all. To say anything, and not seem uncool.

But that's the thing. I am not cool. I am Beatrice Trudeau, sole female member of the least cool clique in all of Bullworth, helpless virgin, and unpopular to the point of infamy. Therefore, I forgive myself for choosing the least cool way to put any of my feelings to my lips. Literally.

"Mandy..."

She perked up to look me in the eye, something she had previously been avoiding. I physically caught her in that position. My fingers were splayed from her temples to the awkward front of her ears, but that's where I held her. Both hands. I held her face captive as I pathetically pressed my lips to hers. Our mouths were closed, I remember that much. But I can hardly remember how her lips felt against mine. I was too hyped up on a concoction of hormones I would have loved to bottle, just to relive that rush over and over again. This kiss was something I wanted to steal, and I stole it.

That said, our chaste kiss was surely awkward and awful, so much worse than my worst round of practice with Jimmy, especially since I held it for at least one and a half seconds too long, but it stunned her. Even if it was bad, I think she was overcome from the mere reciprocation of her feelings. I pulled away, to face her wide open expression with as awful of an explanation as I could give.

"I've been falling in love with you for... A while." I gulped, my mouth feeling terribly dry again. "At first I was in complete denial, mostly due to our history, but I can't deny it any longer. I understand that you're ashamed of what you did when you were drunk but... I needed it. I needed you to cling on me, dote on me, and to call me pretty for me to realise that I like you way more than I thought I ever would. You're amazing and-"

My confidence started to wane. Her frozen state made me question everything. My hands slipped off her face, down to her shoulders. Wimpy in my grip, I insisted on holding on.

"I want to date you. Somehow."

In a blur of motion, Mandy finally moved. Her arms hooked around my waist, and immediately pulled me into her lap. I had already been lightly straddling her legs standing, in order to properly get close and examine her eyes, so naturally my legs remained spread on each side of hers. I still don't know how to describe it, but she widened her own legs slightly, and that wide angle match of our bodies made for a very comfortable seat. An intimate one. As if her face burrowed into my neck wasn't intimate enough.

"Yes!" she sighed, relief beyond my comprehension. Joy made her giggle out the next word: "Somehow."

I nodded, shocked an uncool, despite sitting in the budding lesbian romance of my own request. The bruise on my leg hurt a little to sit at, but all things considered, that was the least of my sensations. I got to hug her back. I got to breathe in her presence properly. I got to feel safe and protected in her grasp in ways I didn't know I could physically feel.

"I love you." I whispered in her ear.

"Hah, oh my god, that's fast!"

"It has actually been a while, Mandy! I just haven't been able to say it!"

"No, it's fine, it's just... Usually people wait before dropping the L-word."

"I don't know that! I haven't had a real boyfriend or girlfriend before."

"I know."

"Of course you know, you're my roomate- ah!"

So much more experienced than me in whatever comes after a basic make out, Mandy had kissed my neck. It still amazes me how easily she can draw embarrassing noises out of me. At that first sensual peck, I nonetheless shied away in her grasp. It was too sudden, too alien to me.

"Sorry-" She immediately apologized. Concern of consent, old guilt pressing, I could tell why she cared so much.

"It's fine, I just..." I rubbed at the spot where her saliva still stained me. "I'm such a virgin. I don't think I want that to change just yet. Tonight has been crazy enough."

She breathed deep, her chest puffing up in prideful expectation. I had implied just enough through my bumbling words. Mandy nodded respectfully.

"So you mean, if I do anything tonight it's like... Gonna go too far?"

"I think so."

"But you mean another night it's fine?"

"Y-yes." I offered her an awkward smile as I glanced around the room. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mandy overflowed in love and joy at that, and hugged me tightly to express it. I don't know how I do it. All I did was speak the truth, which just so happened to be that we were no longer just roommates. So what if I was quick to drop the 'L-word' as she called it? We were secret girlfriends now, and nobody could take it away from us.

"Mandy?"

"Yes, Bea?"

"I want to sleep in your bed."

Thus, Mandy's jacket became the sole thing resting on my side of the room. We both cuddled down under her covers- no, rather, she cuddled me up. Mandy is a very clingy lover, and I've had to learn as I go along with her physical whims. We had turned off every other light except the lamp on her bedside table. My glasses were off. I couldn't see much, but it didn't matter. As far as I could understand from her position and the way she was stroking my hair, that light was on only so that she could lovingly gaze at me.

"I'm sorry for confusing you so much." I muttered, sleepy but intent on talking.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to know why I didn't sleep in the same bed as you that night? I thought you were going to hate me if you found out I had a crush on you."

"Bitch, I had a crush on you!" she giggled.

"I managed to convince myself you didn't... Which in hindsight feels pretty dumb."

"Yeah, you're too smart for your own good sometimes."

"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you."

"Oh my god, you're so cute." she gushed earnestly. It made my heart skip. To make matters worse, the petting hand hooked under my chin to tilt me towards her. She lingered there enough to make me long for both her question and my answer. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes. Please."

This I count to be our first kiss. Forget my clumsy confession press. This was a proper process, from the chaste meeting, mutual reciprocation, to softly deepening into a loving make out. I could only really compare her to Jimmy, since he's my sole frame of reference. My main points of fascination was how thin her tongue felt, how dexterously it played with my own, and the way her lips were soft, soft, soft. It wasn't difficult to kiss her back. It felt good, easy, and fun. My fingers gripped at her night t-shirt, and her hand went back to play in my hair. Everything felt so perfect.

"Haah~" I sighed, much too lewd from a simple kiss. I still blame the setting, laying tangled up in bed together and all. "That was... Yes."

"It's enough?" She asked, out of breath herself, but keeping it together way better.

"I think so." My eyes were dumbly lidded. "Maybe... Maybe just one more?"

We both obliged, but didn't deepen that kiss nearly as much. When we parted, Mandy rolled over onto her back. I could tell in the blur that her teeth were showing in a wide smile. It was my turn to snuggle up in her armpit. Her arm around my shoulders held me close.

"You're hot." She said, blunt and happy.

"... Thank you."

She giggled and gave me a squeeze. "I don't know, it feels like I'm the one safeguarding your virginity more than you are."

"I think I'm doing a terrific job! We're not having sex tonight. We're just kissing."

"We are. We won't. But I just feel like you're the one who needs holding back, not me."

"I'm a pervert, I know." I moaned, once again not in a sexy way but rather in a self deprecating one.

"No! You're like, awesome and cute, and I can't wait to- No, I'm not going to finish that sentence. You're just a girl, okay? A girl with needs like any other."

I did feel comforted. I nodded, and thought that the conversation would ebb out. Then Mandy dropped this revelation:

"I've heard you masturbate."

"WHAT?" I sat up in bed, mortified.

"Like, once!" She laughed, trying hard to keep her volume down. Mandy ushered me back into her arms, but took the time to turn off the lights. These conversations just sort of flowed better in the dark, where she didn't need to see me blush. "It was you know... some weeks before I dragged you to that dermatologist."

I immediately knew when. It was the night I had written about adult Jimmy and Gary in the car, way back in the start of this chronicle. Recollection made me whine in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry Mandy. I thought you were asleep."

"Omg, you remember?"

"It's... Yeah."

"Don't beat yourself up over it." Her voice became soft. "I had always thought you were super pretty, but that little bit of moaning I heard? That's like what properly fired up my crush on you. I hadn't realised you were sexy until then."

"Mandy, you're killing me."

"Softly, I hope." She gave me a peck on my head. I could hear her smile in the darkness. "Guys are so silent, or they like grunt like cavemen or something. I got high-key obsessed about hearing moan you again so... I don't know, all my plans were so stupid compared to this."

"... You made plans?"

"I figured I could trick you into one of those 'let's practice kissing schemes' that you've got going on with Jimmy. There was just one problem... I'm sure you can figure it out."

"My cold sores?"

"Bingo, genius!" I swear I could hear her eyes roll. Then she softened again, sweet in her recollection: "I couldn't kiss you in secret if I caught your herpes. So, you know... That's why."

Another circle closed in my increasingly drowsy psyche. Mandy had liked me this whole time, in an explicitly sexual way. The entire trip to the next town over, offering to pay for my dermatologist visit, all under the guise of relieving stress in her life...? Well, it wasn't untrue, it just wasn't the entire truth. These narrative threads were weaving themselves into a tapestry I was too tired to fully articulate. My jaw gave a slight crack as I yawned.

"Yeah, secret. We'll bargain with that."

"We what now?"

"Tomorrow."

"Okay fine, tomorrow."

Both of our breathing began to slow.

"I love you, Mandy."

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

I did wake up from time to time that night. It was such a blessing to roll over, deeper into the cuddle me and Mandy were tangled up in, and fall back asleep each and every time. That said, I was never awarded such a soft final 'wake up' that morning.

We were woken up by the distinct click and flash of a digital camera.

Something unbidden in both me and Mandy immediately reacted by pushing away from each other. Only I was pushing away and staying down, trying to hide under the covers; Mandy pushed up and off the bed to beat the shit out of our paparazzi. Her sleepy, sluggish punch was caught by an equally as sluggish, sleepless Zoe.

"Easy now, lovebird." She cackled, a bit too overjoyed to easily overpower Mandy in combat. "It will make sense, promise!"

"No!" Mandy roared. "Nobody takes my fucking picture without-"

"Sssssshhhhhh" Zoe encouraged Mandy, all while catching her in a headlock. She held the camera screen to Mandy's face. "Look at how cute it is though? You both look adorable."

"Uhm-" I wasn't sure if I was to argue for Mandy's photographic trauma or for the fact that I really wanted to see that image. "Why are you-?"

"You switched sides, you bitch!" Mandy decided.

"Did not!" Zoe growled. She was starting to struggle holding the cheerleader still. Bullworth's bull mascot spirit was fuming from them both.

"Please don't fight!" I begged, my glasses finally on my face. "We can talk this out! You can delete that image! It's not printed and plastered over town, we're- We're fine!"

Both of them breathed heavy. Flared nostrils, they slowed to a standstill. Once Mandy was calm enough, Zoe released her with a pat on her shoulder. Mandy immediately tried to snatch the camera, but failed. The undisputed winner, Zoe flopped down on my bed.

"God, I'm so tired." She groaned, melting into my mattress. "I'm glad to see you two got some sleep, because I've gotten like two hours tops."

I glanced at the clock. It was 7 am, the time our alarm would ring on a school day. Admittedly it made sense, since my circadiam rythm sometimes makes me wake up at that time even if it's the weekend. Zoe had gone here specifically to catch us before we got out and did anything with our day. Well, that and one more thing.

She threw Mandy a pair of keys.

"I locked your bike out front. I saw my moped there too, so just hand those keys back and we're even. Nobody ever noticed our switch."

"Pfsh- sure, nobody knows." Mandy muttered. She stomped over like the princess I know she can be to her desk, to throw the other keys back. "But you'd better start talking before I make someone notice you've broken into our room."

"What for? We're all friends here! I'm a girl, I'm allowed to go see my friends in the girl's dormitory." Zoe said, trying to be funny. We didn't seem too entertained, so she sighed. "Fine, I'll get to it. Just sit down, and don't get antsy. I come in peace."

Mandy fit right into my waiting arms. She leaned on me, and I hugged her tight. There was a humming anxiety in her that I knew already came from cameras. Earnest still doesn't understand how badly he hurt her. I tried to be like wordlessly supportive of her in touch alone, and I think she liked it.

"Actually, first off." Zoe began, sitting criss cross apple sauce. "How much does Mandy know?"

"Everything." I said. "I told her everything."

"Even the book stuff?"

"Yes, it doesn't make sense without that context." I blustered. "So... Do you know?"

"I do, but I haven't read it personally. Gary is guarding that thing like it's the most important thing in the world." She smirked at both of our surprised faces. "Yeah, I'll get to it. You guys left yesterday, alright? That's when me and Jimmy had to start to make Gary act human again, just pull him down from mount psycho. It wasn't even for your sake, but for our own. Me and Jimmy needed Gary sane so that he could listen to the real shit we had hidden from him. He went loops around the stages of grief, I tell you, but in the end he sort of accepted it."

"Accepted what?" Mandy asked.

"That Jimmy had been a fucking idiot and kept the fact that I knew their secret from him." It seemed personally hilarious to Zoe, since she nearly choked on her chuckle as she said it. "Like, in the end all of his problems was that Jimmy was a dumbass. I've been telling him to tell Gary about me for like, months on end! I kept saying that he'll find out one way or another, and in the end I get this big fat 'I told you so' moment! Honestly, I've been pins and fucking needles keeping this shit to myself. Gary and I have classes together for fuck sake."

My mind was still running with mathematical concern for the logistics. "How long did this take?"

"Fucking hours!"

Zoe fell back down on her back again, took my pillow and let out a muffled scream into it. Me and Mandy awkwardly looked to each other. It was enough to stall the time for Zoe to finish her little thing there. She sat back up, rubbing her eyes. The energetic outburst left her looking positively drained.

"It has been a long night."

"You should go sleep." I said. "Uhm, after you explain why you took that picture of us, of course."

"Blackmail." she shrugged. "Part two, electric boogaloo was to convince Gary that the secret was safe with you girls. He didn't believe you two had something going on, but if you did he wanted solid fucking proof of it. In the end he sort of chose a hill to die on, and that hill isn't all that complicated."

She harked her hoarse throat. I can only guess how much talking and shouting that she had done over the night. In the moment this dramatic pause nearly killed me. I squeezed Mandy's hand tight.

"If you two ever expose Jimmy and Gary, they will expose you back."

"Oh." Mandy slipped. She sounded disappointed.

"That- That's amazing! It's a safe bet!" I enthused. "I don't want to expose them, so I'll be safe. Don't you agree, Mandy?"

"I mean... If that's what you want."

She didn't get away with that. I squared her down immediately.

"Mandy, please be truthful. Zoe has been sent here as an emissary, and I don't think we'll ever get to discuss our terms and conditions in this peaceful sort of manner ever again."

Now I will toot my own horn, because she was obviously charmed by my overly complicated language to convey my moderate metaphor. She blushed, and told the carpet:

"I didn't think we'd need to be secret... Like, if you like me and I like you, why can't you be my girlfriend publicly?"

Charmed in return, I couldn't speak. Not only did she just call me her girlfriend, but she wanted everyone to know? Everyone in Bullworth?! Such dreams were beyond my wildest imagination. When she spoke of them I too wanted them to come true. Thankfully, Zoe's head was not in the same pink coloured clouds.

"That's sweet, but Mandy, really? It would be social suicide for both of you, but worse for Beatrice." She went on. "I know you don't really notice it at the top, but you are the most popular girl in school. You just broke up with the alpha male of everyone, and you already know his gang is homophobic. If you go public about dating this gangly beanpole nerd, who's also a girl, bullying will eat you both alive. You'll lose popularity for one, but Beatrice will become more popular as all manner of people want to see what you see in her."

"You think so?" Mandy retorted, not quite convinced.

"Oh yeah, and then there will be all kinds of attempts to break you two up. People will argue that it's just a phase, and let's be real, any guy who flirts with Beatrice at this school is probably dumb enough to progress to sexual harassment since she's never been with a 'real man' and all those fucking tropes in this god damn society."

Even if Zoe took on the role to shatter a dream between us, she did it with grace. That grace was admittedly the shape of a baseball bat, as she herself swung about in her rage about how mean teenagers and adults alike are when it comes to homosexual love. She wanted us to be public all while she explained why we ought not to.

"You'll be bullied to hell and back." She concluded. "So do you get me?"

"I get it." Mandy mumbled.

"I see it now too." I agreed, even more glum than her.

"But it's not all bad." Zoe perked up. Mischievous she said: "Gary had some colorful theories and readings on what Beatrice is into, and the thought of secret, unlikely relationships seems to really get her going, if you know what I mean."

Sadness was dispelled in an instant. I flushed and flustered, hardly able to form words out of my open mouth. She was right, as you may understand, but I never knew Zoe well enough to know she dares say those things out loud! Mandy wanted to, surely she tried to get offended for my sake, but it was clear that she did see that sliver of sunshine Zoe had pointed out to us.

"And that's that settled." Zoe decided. "You stay secret about your own relationship, you keep the secret of Jimmy and Gary being gay for each other, and all is well for every enemy and their lovers. Beatrice, Gary is ready to give your book back whenever. You just need to speak to him."

"She's not doing that alone." Mandy snapped. "Gary hurt her, like really hurt her yesterday. We both had a big mental break from being there, and I was there for just a few minutes. Bea was in there for hours! Do you think she's gonna be able to just walk up to him and talk?"

"I don't know. Can you?" Zoe asked me.

I had to take a moment. I had to think about everything, and fit my own feelings around the facts that I was presented with. Mandy stopped breathing, so my pause didn't drag on too long, just long enough for me to realise how tense my pondering made her.

"I think I can. I want to see him. I don't want to be scared of him. Not like yesterday."

Zoe smiled. "You're brave, you know."

"I beg to disagree, but thank you!"

Mandy gave me a hug. Her arms around my neck weighed heavy, but they were warm. I relaxed. My bravery was disputable, but my determination was proven. I would meet with Gary, and this story would finally be over. But before we got there, we had more lose ends to tie up.

"Zoe, can you help us with something?"

"What now?"

"We need alibis for yesterday night."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. Jimmy wants to know if you want to pretend you slept with him or not."

"UHM-"

Mandy didn't say anything, but she stopped clinging to me and turned to face Zoe with indignation. She was already possessive.

"Maybe I'm moving too fast. Thing is, me and the boys considered this." Zoe cracked her knuckles. They were really crunchy. "Mandy told me of her night, so I know a lot of people know she was out looking for Beatrice, and that she said you were with Jimmy. We can run with that. Thing is, Gary doesn't need an alibi, he's a ghost who disappears from time to time and nobody knows how to find him. But Jimmy and Beatrice spent Friday night together, and that's a fact. What happened, in your mind?"

"We studied!" I deflected, hard. Embarrassment was rising again. Luckily my imagination got to work. "We studied, and uhm, I helped him with his physics assignment from Dr. Slawter. I was hiding from Mandy since she had slapped me, so I stayed out way past curfew. We didn't do anything sexual, and Jimmy was a reluctant gentleman about it. Like, we made out, probably but... I refused! I'm still a virgin!"

Zoe gave Mandy a look that was way too suggestive. I disregarded it in the moment, intent on finishing my alibi.

"In the end I was too scared to go back to school alone, both in the dark and since I was breaking rules. So Jimmy walked me home and snuck me past the prefects. It was very exciting for me, but a walk in the park for him."

"Sounds about right." It was all praise from Zoe. "I'll tell Jimmy. I'm also gonna suppose you came home before me and Mandy?"

"What do you mean-" Mandy started, but then lit up like a light bulb. "WE spent the night together?"

"Sure did. You said yesterday you were very loud about going to find me at the carnival, so I think it's our only option." Zoe shrugged. "What do you say you and I did? You pulled me out of the punk show, but we never found Beatrice. What did we do? Talk shit and become unlikely friends all night?"

"You could have vented about me?" I suggested, hoping it would be helpful.

"Nuh-uh!" Mandy pulled down her loose neckline over her shoulder, to expose the bruise. "That wouldn't explain the bruises. I think we had sex!"

Me and Zoe simultaneously spat drinks we weren't drinking. I did so in shock and bewilderment, but Zoe transitioned to a full bellied laugh. She liked the idea, a lot.

"I am out and bisexual. Do you want to join me in that?"

"Yes bitch. I'm pissed about the homophobia." Mandy crossed her arms. "If the most popular girl turns out gay, it has to make others realise it's okay, right? Right? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Mandy, I-" I gave her a small nod. "I'm okay with this. I just can't believe you thought of it."

"Why? Is it too smart?"

"No, it's dumb, and that's what's great about it! It even explains why you abandoned your search for me. Getting laid with Zoe is sensational, in a way that it will overshadow any other rumours that might spring up about you, Bucky and Fatty in the ferris wheel."

"God! I almost forgot about those losers."

Zoe raised her hand. I noticed it immediately, and directed Mandy's attention there just like I would in any classroom setting. There was a mischievous smirk on Zoe's lips, her eyes running over both of us in scheming I hadn't seen her ever display before.

"Girls, if I may... I haven't seen these bruises Mandy is going on about, but I can only assume they're like fight bruises. They don't look like sex bruises, and I would know, because I've gotten and given a few."

The tension in the room was shifting to flirty real fast. I believed every word she said, and felt desperate for more.

"So how about we distract from them?" Zoe suggested, impish in every way. "All we need is one nasty hickey, and our alibi is watertight."

"On you or on me?" was Mandy's only question. She didn't hint at hesitation even a second.

"On you, dumbass. If I give you a fat one on your neck, nobody is even going to look at your shoulder or whatever."

"Good, because I don't want to give you one-" It seemed to dawn on Mandy rather suddenly what she was agreeing to. She turned her head to look at me. "Wait, are you still okay with this?"

"Yes." came my answer. I thought I would hesitate, but some deep seated desire within me spoke more true. It somehow overrode my regular embarrassment: "I want to see it. I want you to get one for me. For us."

Mandy didn't know what to make of that. She and I were locked in intense eye contact, desperately trying to figure each other out by prying into the windows of our souls. On the other side of the room, Zoe inhaled knowingly.

"Gary did mention this."

What this was was never outright named between us three. Honestly, cucking is such a dirty word. But in essence, on the very first morning of our relationship, before we ever got exceedingly physical together, I was actively taking part in setting my fresh girlfriend up with someone else.

Zoe kept insisting it would take a while, so we got very comfortable. Mandy was resting in my embrace, my legs spread, both of us sitting on her bed. Clambering over us was the surrogate vampire Zoe, examining Mandy's exposed neck and negotiating with me of where would be a good place. Mandy couldn't see, but we all agreed we wanted it high enough to be just barely hidden by a turtleneck. We even managed to have a good laugh about it. Mandy held my hand. Her face was turned my way, and I could see everything.

"Here I go." Zoe said, and there she went. With absolute precision, she put her mouth to Mandy's neck. It was hardly ever a kiss. Without delay she took a bite sized bit of Mandy's skin, and sucked it into a vacuum seal of her own making.

"Ow!" Mandy complained. I saw clearly how her face contorted in pain. She wavered in the prickly sensation turning into strange tingles, and I... I felt horny. Incredibly horny. Mandy looked up to meet my eyes, and I think she could see my pupils dilate and stare at her with no abandon. Suddenly flattered, Mandy managed a brave smile. "Yeah, no I'm fine Zoe, just keep going."

Our helper was right that it would take a while. Me and Mandy had time to progress from intense eyefucking into something more. If my hands weren't busy, one supporting her shoulder, one holding her hand, I swear I would have caressed her inappropriately. All I could do was cave in to my desire, and awkwardly bend my head into kissing range of hers. Honestly, I stand by the fact that it's very hot! Mandy was my princess, comfortably resting beneath a bloodsucking hickey, being kissed by her devoted fiance. The sheer power of her being so desirable that she's got both me and another woman sandwiching her is hot. Then the loophole of me knowing that she's doing this for me... I defend it! It's hot! I may be a cuck, but I'm enjoying it!

When she finally finished, Zoe let go and shot away from our makeout with a gasp. Her lips were slightly swollen, and she stretched her mouth and jaw uncomfortably.

"Damn, that should do it."

Me and Mandy were a little out of it, just having come out from kissing, but we agreed. All together we admired the blooming bruise in the mirror, and it was magnificent. Zoe knows how to leave a mark. It was a brilliant flower, telling of an untold night of passion... I loved it as soon as I laid my eyes on it.

"I'm gonna go home and sleep." Zoe excused herself. "Remember, you have the thanks of both me, Jimmy and Gary. We're like, really stoked that you're willing to be part of this crazy scheme to keep everyone happy."

"Don't mention it." I said. "I'm just happy to live."

"Let's keep it that way."

With a sunshine laughter, Zoe slipped out of our dorm. I don't think she had walked the length of the corridor before mine and Mandy's bedsprings squeaked. It was on my initiative. I had pushed us, and Mandy had been ready to fall. Breathless I sat straddling her hips, feeling my own clitoral erection rest against her.

"I want to do it."

"I can tell." Mandy said, trying to be smug to hide her awe. She slipped her hands under my flannel pyjamas. This kind of touch was all new, and full of purpose I wanted to master.

So safe to say, I stripped out of my top as if it was on fire. It was twenty minutes to eight on a Saturday morning, and I was ready to lose my virginity. My glasses tangled momentarily, but they stayed on. I wanted to see everything. Now that I'm writing this, I want to be clear that I have wondered if it has any purpose to write down how my first time actually went. On the side of I should, my own memories will degrade as I age, since a first hand account is sensitive to time as well as subjectivity. On the side that I shouldn't, it's just unlikely I'll ever forget.

Also, it took hours. Me and Mandy soon found out that heteronormative sex ends when the male partner enters his refractory period. Lesbians just... Don't have that limitation. If I start writing all that down, I fear I may sit here even longer! So in summary we spent that time excitedly exploring exactly how to use our bodies to each of our own pleasure. The most effective tools were our hands, mouths and tongues, but the general expanse of just tangling together in blissful nakedness is not to be overlooked.

Mandy was naturally more assertive than me. Her quest to hear me moan was completed time and time again. To my apparent pleasure, she enjoyed it enough to never get tired of it. It was particularly intriguing to me to try my hardest to keep it inside, only for her to lure my vocal chords to quiver again. We naturally kept it down so that our dorm neighbours didn't catch wind of what we were doing, and we did spend some tense moments under the covers listening to dorm matrons wandering past outside.

Deceptively enough, sex is actually exercise. My stamina reduced me to a pillow princess. I will keep it on record that I did make Mandy come several times, just as well as I admit that she made me come more.

Each and every time I'm trying to conclude a chapter in this chronicle it feels like I'm trying to write the last! Have pity on me, Beatrice Trudeau of the future, but I'm nearly done. I just have some more lose threads to tie up, and I mustn't become distracted from those by how sweet and sexy my new girlfriend is! She has supported me throughout my full writing of this, and we've had so much hot sexy sex since our first time together. But this isn't about that! It's about how I wrote erotic stories of Jimmy and Gary and how they had an an effect on my life. So let's focus on that, and complete this convoluted story. Maybe one or two more chapters... It's a struggle to write! Everything keeps going on for longer than I think!

At the very least I'll be moderately practised once I sit down to write my memoirs. This part of my life will be omitted, as it is too personal. If you disagree, future me, you really ought to explain yourself in one of those sappy letters to your past self! (Not that I'll read it, but it's the thought that counts.)

Chapter Text

"Miss. Trudeau?"

I stopped dead in my tracks at Mrs. Peabody's voice. Even if I had gotten away with everything, my first instinct was to think she had caught me. She called out to me right as I was returning from the showers, admittedly fully dressed with my winter tights on to hide the bruise from Gary on my thigh. Any and all marks left by Mandy were safe beneath my clothes in a carefully calculated manner. I vividly remember how I clutched at my wet towel, and how the damp fibres gave out a soft creak beneath my nails.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Ah, so it is you." She snootily corrected her bottlecap glasses. It was only to gain more nose to look down at me over. "I'm afraid I didn't see you come back by curfew yesterday?"

"No, ma'am."

"Is it because of Mandy Wiles?"

"Well..."

"Because she did something dreadful to you! Wanton violence! Inside of the girl's dormitory!" She huffed, anger just barely restrained. "I'll have you know I gave her a piece of my mind, and sent her off to go apologize. Did she now?"

"Yes ma'am! She did apologize!" I said, a little bit frantic.

"Hmpf!" Mrs. Peabody was obviously caught off guard, but accepting of my claim. "That's good. Since you two share a room until graduation and it is strictly against policy to switch rooms this late, she had better make it up to you."

"Oh, we've been making up all morning."

Sometimes I thank my awkward nature dearly for not having a smooth bone in my body. I said that double entendre with complete, stiff seriousness. Mrs. Peabody was none the wiser, dismissing me without further questions. I'm also thankful for her domineering nature, since she had directed that entire conversation to her own liking. I had barely needed to say anything really! In hindsight it seemed she didn't care as much for me as for finding another reason to bully Mandy. The power of authority has to be intoxicating...

Mandy was cuddled up in her bed, still fully in the nude judging by the evidence of her bare shoulders and hinted cleavage. She didn't have to leave until cheer practice, and that was still hours away, while I on the other hand wished to feign normalcy by getting to the comic book basement as soon as possible... If me and my friends did play Grottos and Gremlins I would of course have arrived at 10 am sharp for a full day of adventuring, but without that scheduled start to guide me I figured 2 pm was good enough in terms of tardiness. Maybe I had time for just a little bit more relaxing with her?

"You okay?" She asked me with a knowing smirk. She had caught me staring at her boobs.

"Uhm, yes, I just..." fidgety I hung my towel to dry. "I ran into Mrs. Peabody in the halfway."

"How'd it go?"

"I told her we have been making up."

Mandy muffled her giggle by hugging her pillow. Below the blanket her feet were kicking. Otherwise hidden behind the facade of head bitch of Bullworth, there were these silly sides of Mandy that were starting to shine through, brilliant like sunlight after you've been in a basement all day. In the less metaphorical sense, although still metaphor, she was letting down her guard around me. She was so cute. Best of all, I knew she reacted so cutely because she found me cute!

I sat down and started to plug in my hair dryer. Somehow the loud electric whine of the machine motivated Mandy to get out of bed. I wasn't looking, so I don't know if she put on underwear, but she was at least wearing her oversized pyjama shirt when she appeared behind me.

It was hard to communicate through the noise, but she wanted to help me. I got to sit there like a princess, or just a customer at a hair salon, all while Mandy dried my hair. It was bliss. The hot air, not needing to lift my arms, getting pampered... I tried to treasure it, not yet knowing that this would become a regular part of my routine.

"There." Mandy announced, finally silencing the hairdryer. Her fingers combed through my scalp one more time. "i just love your hair, Bea. You know that right?"

"I've gathered it from field data. I should honestly have understood sooner, especially with how you braided my hair at the diner."

"Yeah oh my god, I felt so damn obvious." Mandy laughed, using a brush to arrange my regular half ponytail. "Like, all while I had this crush on you I was just waiting for you to realize and bust me. I was soo sure that's what you were on about when we fought yesterday."

"... What?" I dumbly said, disproving her anxieties of me being anything but dense when it came to her love. She tightened the ponytail a bit too tight, and I winced. Before I knew what to do, she was hugging my head into her chest and sighed hard enough to rustle my bangs.

"You're so dumb."

"Uhm, Mandy-"

"Sorry." She let go, and sat down on my bed. I twisted in my seat to face her. She looked at me with a smile that truly felt smart, perhaps because she was withholding information that I was deeply desiring. "I shouldn't be mean to you anymore. I'll explain it to you, okay?"

"Please."

"So one, I was crushing on you big time, two, I was staying away because of what I had done, right? Three, you come storming in saying you know I'm hiding something from you? You with me? Yeah, I thought you had finally figured it out by running our friendship through a math calculation or some nerd shit, so I almost panicked and just caved right then and there. So five-"

"You missed four."

"Okay, four, I'm about to spill my spaghetti and die. But that's five when you start going on about your lost notebook. You know I didn't know shit, but I'm still freaking out because of the 180 turn the conversation took, because like one, I had a crush on you!"

"Mandy I'm so sorry."

"You'd better be!" she huffed, but then regret crept up in her eyebrows, creasing them down. "I mean, we both got pretty mean and personal after that... But when you came downstairs and started going on about how you were going out with Jimmy for the night- Like, saying that it was thanks to me that you could and all, I just..."

She couldn't bear saying it. I made a note to research couple's therapy techniques, because less than 24 hours into our relationship, it seemed like we needed it. For the moment all I could do was say what she couldn't.

"You got angry. You slapped me."

"I did! I helped you out so much because I wanted to have you!" she confessed. Anger mingled with pride, swathed in a cloak of shame made her speech sound like that in a movie. "I didn't pave the way for somebody else to get there before me! Not even Jimmy Hopkins, who took your first kiss before I realized that I wanted it. To hell with him, you were supposed to be mine!"

I have to admit I was touched. Someone as unpopular as me only dared to dream being this coveted in fantasy scenarios. It may not be the most healthy view on romance, but I'm still a teenager, so I allow myself as much. I took my turn to stand up and hug her face to my chest. She burrowed into it, speaking into my sternum.

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

"I'm still sorry."

"We're going to be okay." I pet her head. "Just give it time."

Our hug lasted a while. Long enough for me to consider pushing her down and comforting her more than this. Long enough for me to glance at my alarm clock and get uneasy. Mandy noticed and let go.

"Uhm, speaking of time-" I did my best to be cheerful. "I really have to go. You should go shower by the by, I'm sure nobody that was there when I did is there any longer, so any possible evidence of our coitus is null- OH, and you should eat too. Your heightened emotional state may be a result of low blood sugar, possibly connected to your current phase in your menstrual cycle, or some manner of sleep deprivation due to the lacking hours that the nights adventures stole from us."

It was another burst of sunlight, beaming like laser into my heart. My nerdy rambles made Mandy smile, genuinely, and it cheered her back up to where I wanted her to be.

"Alright, I'll eat something." she promised.

"Good, then I'll get going." I stepped away from her and turned but-

"Wait."

"What?"

"Can I slap your ass?"

There was a beat of consideration. Then I hiked my skirt up and presented myself to her. She got a good smack in, and it sent light shivers up my spine.

"Cool." She beamed. "Stay safe on the road, alright?"

Bright daylight on a Saturday, and I felt scared. I feel it correct to admit here that I felt scared. I was practically surrounded by people all throughout my walk from campus to the comic book store, and I still felt exposed and alone. This would be my first of many walks where I tried to shake the post traumatic feeling that I would get attacked again. They would come to pass over the course of a couple of months, as they're mostly gone at the time of writing this. Knowing how much harder several other walks would be in my narrative self's future, I want to commend her for just putting one foot in front of the other and neither stopping nor running once during this first walk of walks.

I did that, and I'm proud of me.

In the basement, Bucky and Fatty had dragged one the foldable tables out and were re-setting a game of WarMachine. We usually never sit down when we play that miniature wargame, but pace around the table to consider all angles for our tactical decisions. I truly felt relieved, since I didn't want to confront them on anything but the same level. Both of them looked happy to see me, while my face was nervously steeled.

"Beatrice!" Fatty exclaimed. "How was your date?"

"Strained." I replied. Then I went straight for the prize. "Bucky, do you still have Mandy's safety shorts?"

Bucky immediately fumbled the miniature he was holding. There were a tense moment of instense juggling as he desperately tried to not let it fall to the floor, but it did. Delicate plastic clattered with a dainty noise. It didn't break. Bucky stared at me in what I suppose was fear.

"How do you know about that?" he asked, voice cracking.

I took a deep breath, in order to sigh for emphasis. I had rehearsed this in my brain. Now all I needed to do was keep my story straight.

"Mandy was looking for me yesterday because she slapped me, and Mrs. Peabody forced her to seek an apology. She didn't actually find me and Jimmy, so I had to wake up in a literal lion's den of her being doubly angry at me this morning. It's very rare for her to resort to violence, but now that she has done it once, I'm afraid she's going to do it again."

"As if that's special." Bucky grumbled defensively. "Us boys get pushed around and beat up by jocks every day."

"It is special, because I live with her, Bucky."

He gave me a look. I glared back. He didn't say it, so I did.

"Yes, and it's because we are girls. Are you happy now?"

"I didn't say that!" he protested, throwing his arms out. "You said that! I didn't!"

"Just give me the shorts back, Bucky."

"No! They were meant to be a gift, not a ransom."

"A gift for who?"

"For you!"

Our voices were raised high enough for Fatty to cower. There's an uncomfortable intimacy in two friends fighting with one being stuck in between. Fatty is technically a child of divorce, except that the proceedings have never started or finished, stuck in the loveless limbo of loud fights and frightened children. He has told us this much. That's why I can rationalize in hindsight that it was this sensitivity to him that propelled him to act as a cushion in me and Bucky's clash.

"Hey, hey, please calm down." He begged, standing between us. "We have the shorts, and you're gonna get them-"

"What we?" Bucky interrupted, pushing Fatty aside. The miniatures on the table rattled when he hit the side of the battlefield. Bucky's face was scrumped in a sour grimace. "You don't have to take my side just because you were there Fatty! You're just collateral, this is my moment."

"For crying out loud, what moment are you talking about?" I whined and stomped.

"He loves you!" Fatty said, louder than he ought to have.

Then he hiccuped. Then he crouched. Fatty cried. I fell to his side to pat at his sweaty shirt. His sobs were strangled behind scarred old emotions. Bucky stood where he was, and looked down on us. So much for equal ground. Mine and his gazes were connected lasers. I was the one to speak first.

"Your moment can't be much worse, so why don't you explain yourself?" I swallowed, and added as kindly as I could: "I'm listening."

I had heard a lot of explanations of motives in this recounted tale. Gary, Jimmy, Mandy and even Zoe have in common that once unlocked, they will divulge their secrets with their backs straight. Bucky couldn't be like that. He cowered, crossed his arms, stood tense at shameful attention, unable to pace or move at all.

"I never expected my friend to stab me in the back like that, to confess my confession before I'm ready, really pulling the rug from my feet-" He had a pause as Fatty sobbed hard. "But he's right. I'm still in love with you. I never gave up... I thought that if I was just there for you, if I stayed by your side, then you'd grow to like me. I'm a good guy, and you're a good girl, so I just don't see why we can't be together! It's dumb! We could be the couple that makes the horror of being a nerd at Bullworth actually worth it!"

He tried to meet my gaze, to transmit this grand dream he had been harbouring, but I didn't let him in. My eyes were cold, and scared him off in less than a second. Fatty had taken off his glasses to wipe at his eyes and nose, absolutely soaking his fingerless gloves in sad slime. Bucky rocked on his feet exactly once, and continued:

"I took a risk yesterday, because I wanted you to have a win Beatrice. I know how Mandy always gives you a tough time, and how she will never, ever change, so I though... I thought if you could have her panties hostage she might treat you better."

"Oh my god." slipped out of me, a gasp all too similar to Mandy's habitual jock-speech, but thankfully in my own voice and cadence so neither of my friends made the same connotation I did to hear that phrase myself.

"I know I didn't get her actual panties!" Bucky blustered in response. "I never even knew she wore shorts, because I don't look at the cheerleaders like everyone else! I realize every guy at school has seen up those skirts and found out, but I didn't know okay?"

"Is that your main concern?" I asked.

"I don't know!" He uncrossed his arms. With as much bravery as he could muster, he stared at me as if I was the sun. "But if you can imagine how cool it could have been for me to do this grand gesture for you, can't you at least consider my confession?"

I felt a sticky pat on my hand. Fatty worded a silent 'I'm fine', and encouraged me to leave him be. I stood up. In the span of one genius moment, I gathered my thoughts to a spearhead, and took aim. I had to break Bucky's heart.

"I can imagine. I can imagine it vividly. I can imagine you being all smug and happy, while Mandy has to get home without anything covering her privates. That humiliation, I imagine, would only be made into more misdirected rage at me. Even if you gave me those panties, I would chose give them back to her to make her happy."

"B-but why?" Bucky asked, genuinely not getting it.

"Because your gift to me is the act sexual harassment of my roommate! You don't see Mandy as a person Bucky, you see her as a monster to be defeated, some enemy NPC in your brave story of getting the girl." I had to take a deep breath. "I don't know for sure, in fact I don't want to be right... But sometimes I don't think you see me as a person either."

Both of the boys were stunned. Bucky's mouth was struggling to form words. Luckily he didn't manage.

"You're not in love with me Bucky, you're in love with the idea of me. The idea of having a girlfriend. The dream of getting to kiss, hold hands, have sex, whatever it is you like the most. We've been friends for years, and I have made it very clear that I don't see you that way. I don't think I ever will! Especially not when your idea of bravery is to disrespect another girl and hand me the evidence of your crime!"

"But you hate Mandy!"

"At some point, I'll start hating you more."

This proved to be the last thing I needed to say. All of us nerds are familiar with sliding scales of measurable variables. For him to even try to calculate the countless evil deeds Mandy had done to me, all to sink into the approval rating of being hated - it put it in perspective how much I loathed his few disagreeable insistencies as a person. I didn't want him to be in love with me. In truth, I didn't want to hate him either. But for that to remain in the green, he needed to give up on ever dating me.

He realized this. Bucky turned around.

"I'll see myself out." He headed for the stairs to the comic book store. "I'll see you tomorrow... When the other boys are back."

"Okay." Fatty squeaked. There was a beat while Bucky opened the door, during which Fatty got a horrid premonition. So he raised his voice and said, as if it was a common farewell greeting: "Don't kill yourself!"

"Tch!" Bucky shook his head. Then he looked at me in bitter resentment. "She's not worth that much. I'm just going to be sad."

I do understand that he said that in order to be mean to me, but in the moment I just felt relief. Bucky went up, and me and Fatty both figured he was wandering around Bullworth being very brooding and cool like he seemed to have intended. I recently found out that Zack heard that thing about killing yourself upstairs, and immediately sat Bucky down for an intervention. It turned into a day long heart to heart between Bucky and him, solidifying that simple comic book proprietor as a father figure for Bucky. (Although considering our age, Zack might be more of a cool cousin.) They talked about everything that troubled Bucky, not just me, and kept on speaking long after closing hours. Nobody in town noticed, because there were absolute zero customers that Saturday...

In the basement Fatty was having shivers. I apologized and tried to comfort him, but nothing did the trick as well as three bags of chips. He ate these while watching me play ConSumo. It was a way for both of us to take our minds off of things, and after he had washed his hands we played a couple of rounds of WarMachine too before cleaning up for the day. We left out the back door, hence why we didn't encounter Bucky, and walked home together.

In all honesty I stuck with Fatty because I was worried about meeting Gary too soon. He wanted to speak to me. I didn't feel ready yet. During the short interim on campus when I waited outside the boys' dormitory for Fatty to fetch the shorts, I must have looked like a proper nervous wreck. I kept reasoning that Gary wouldn't approach me somewhere that public, but those soothing thoughts did not calm my facial expression. Fatty interpreted my nervousness as something else.

"Were you supposed to spend the day studying or something?"

"I mean... yes." I lied, wondering if it was supposed to be truth. "But Mandy sort of threw my plans out the window. Right now I don't mind, because all things considered this has been a good day. Thank you."

"Yeah, I really hope she won't be mad at you now that you can give these back... Also that your grades will improve. You must be bummed about the competition."

"It's fine." I smiled in the sunset. "I'm sure our friends can win it, as long as they work as a team."

Chapter Text

"We lost. We didn't manage to work as a team." Earnest announced in the observatory.

Our Sunday had been thrown severely off schedule, and this was the reason. The finals of the Math Competition end around 2pm, but the team from Bullworth had lost their place in the running on 6th place, early Sunday morning. Sore loss, but not necessarily sore losers, they had opted to go home early instead of watching the finals to completion. (I would never admit it to an outsider, but math isn't much of a spectator sport.) This meant that they were back at the academy in the afternoon instead of the evening.

It was just as well. Otherwise me, Fatty and Bucky would have spent hours decorating the observatory for our returning champions for naught. It was fittingly bare in our usual headquarters. There was no snacks table of celebratory proportions, no streamers or banners. The most we had done was to arrange our chairs in a Socratic circle. This was a loss that we needed to process as a team, both the actual competing team and the rest of us who didn't go.

Although as far as processing goes, we mostly sat there in awkward silence and disbelief.

"We only wish..." Melvin said, sadness in his entire being. "That you do not hate us."

"Oh come on now, we don't hate you!" Fatty immediately protested. "We're just surprised, since you know, we sent the best mathletes we have... And we won last year? What was all that different?"

Algie stood up. He had a glob of snot below his nose, but had held his tears in as a trade-off.

"I was the difference! I wasn't good enough."

"No, no it wasn't you." Cornelius sighed. He leaned forward, the most hurt by the loss. "It was me. I wasted time being mean to everyone because-"

"Because we didn't work as a team." Donald interrupted. His posture was a temper tantrum display of barely repressed rage, currently slouching far in his chair and crossing his arms so hard it made all of him tense despite feigning aloof relaxation. He glared at me specifically. "We were all a bunch of idiots, working over each other and fighting about being inefficient, without realizing that it made us even less efficient. It was bullshit."

"Not quite how I would phrase it but-" Earnest cleared his throat. "That was about how it went. We think it was because we missed your contribution, Beatrice."

Suddenly Donald's glare made sense. It wasn't a glare. It was just his usual squint, but it expressed regret instead of malice for a change. I felt nervous in this spotlight, and deflected:

"That's nice of you to say, but I'm not so sure I would have helped with grades such as mine."

"But it's not about grades!" Theatric flair, Melvin stood up to hold a speech. "It's about the social know-how to organize and delegate tasks, the helicopter knowledge of what is being done and what needs to be done. Earnest did his best, and as did I as his right hand man, but alas- ALAS" He knelt down like a knight. "It was not enough. Petty in-fighting broke out and was never resolved."

"Everyone, everyone, get back in your seats."

Earnest dismissed both Algie and Melvin, only to stand up himself. As the lone speaker, Earnest corrected his glasses and spoke as if he needed to fill the entire observatory with his message:

"It is not about grades. There are certain qualities in life that school can not measure. There are skills that school doesn't even teach us! We, as a faction, have shot ourselves in the foot by being so hyper focused on A's, A+'s, B's and C's. If we had considered what worked last year, we would have left Algie to be on the cheering squad and brought Beatrice along."

"I would have liked to cheer from home." Algie softly agreed, snorting his glob of snot back into his skull. "It was really stressful to be on stage."

"Exactly my point, thank you comrade Algernon... We all have our strengths and weaknesses. We would do better to respect them when we attempt any challenge we face. While our grades may be mostly impeccable, they do not define us."

"Bull-shit." Bucky grumbled. He kicked his feet at the floor, holding onto his chair with a scowl. "You can say all of these nice things, but I know you're still gonna be mean to me because my grades are the worst!"

"What if we're not?" Donald asked. "What if we make an effort to be nicer to you, Bucky?"

There was a tense moment.

"I think I'd like that." Bucky meekly admitted.

Earnest cleared his throat.

"We're sorry for internally bullying you, Bucky. As a fellow member of our clique that should have been unacceptable. Fatty, we're also sorry for not considering you in the competition lineup. We could have used your sensitivity... And last but not least, we're sorry Beatrice, for not trusting you to stand by our side."

The apologies to Bucky and Fatty had been touch and go, not quite fleeting enough to feel insincere, but not quite lingering enough to feel overdone. My apology however, it immediately felt like the entire conversational room got bogged down in a bog-swamp-sticky mess of unsaid things. It felt awkward. I wanted to forgive them. But I also wanted to return those feelings in turn.

"I'm sorry to all of you too." I said. "I've been hiding my issues from you, and not allowed you to help me."

Hope ignited in all of their eyes. I think the reason the apology to me was so different, is because it was a helping hand extended like a careful stick towards a hornet's nest. They didn't want to provoke me, but they still wanted to connect. For me to open up at this exact moment was better than any of them could have hoped for.

"Would you like to share it with us now?" Earnest diligently asked.

"Yes. Well... Uhm... Do you remember the trial we held for Jimmy in regards to how I write about him?"

There was a beat of surprise, as nobody would have guessed that's where this was headed. As much as I had worried, none of my friends had been able to see through me.

"I actually wrote those stories in between my physics notes. Lately I've been writing a bit more than I should have, and neglected my studies... But with the test coming up, Jimmy caught a glimpse of them. He didn't understand what it was, but still decided to try and steal them."

Gasps. Algie squeaking out: "Did he get them?"

"After trial and error, and a bit too much drama." I sighed. The half truth in my alibi was strong, as long as I omitted Jimmy's second half. "He came to that study club I left in hopes of taking my notes, but took Bucky's instead since it had my handwriting on it. Then, he was actually the reason I fell in the stairs. A kid exchanged my notes for Bucky's, and Jimmy had his prize."

"That's... So elaborate." Bucky mumbled. "Jimmy's smarter than we give him credit for."

"He is!" I agreed.

"Yes, really!" Cornelius tacked on, as a fellow Jimmy lover with a similar note of devotion in his claim.

"I never would have thought..." Melvin said, deep in thought. He stirred from it when he noticed something: "Fatty, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Beatrice was on a date with Jimmy this Friday! After the fall!" Fatty panicked. "Did he- Did he know?"

"Yes, he did. You've followed the timeline right." I steeled myself. Folded a little bit in on myself in shame. "All I've said about that date is that it was strained. Jimmy had a lot of questions, and I had a lot of explaining to do, none of which either of us particularly enjoyed. Now that he has read my fantasies about him, I think Jimmy is even further from being my boyfriend than ever before... But he's still my friend. He protected me from Mandy that night, because that's just the type of heroics Jimmy would do."

Cornelius sought my gaze in lovesick understanding. The unrequited hopelessness that we had both shared was a bond that I would have to keep up, even if it was past tense for me while he still lived it. I offered him a flutter of a nod. However, a question I hadn't thought ahead for suddenly reared its head.

"Wasn't he offended?" Earnest asked. "I mean, since he read the punishment you gave him post our impromptu trial."

"Oh-!" I found myself floundering. The one thing Jimmy hadn't read. How would he have reacted? "Uhm, well..."

"Yes, that part!" Melvin snapped his fingers repeatedly. "When he meets Gary Smith!"

"Yeah... He did question why I was so mean to him in that story, but so kind to him otherwise... But, heh, he mostly asked how I captured the essence of Gary's cruelty so well? Haha?"

My nervous laughter echoed in the vast dome of the observatory. To all of our surprises, it didn't just echo. It was answered. Another chuckle joined it, deep and evil in a way that could only belong to one person.

"Well, I would have questions about that too. Care to enlighten me?"

Gary Smith revealed himself on the walkway above us. He had been hiding behind some crates, listening on our Socratic circle from the very start. Now, like the villain he knew how to play, he leaned on the railing to look down on us as if we were nothing but rats in his grand experiment.

I felt strangely calm.

None of my friends did! Before anyone could coordinate them, all of them had the same thought. In a flurry of movement, they all brought out various weapons and pointed them at Gary, a complete squad of soldiers awaiting their sergeant's word to fire. Earnest himself held a slingshot, drawn and ready. His hesitance was all of our hesitance. Before violence, we would have to battle it out with words.

"H-How did you get in here? Since when? And why?" Was Earnest's first order of verbal barrage.

"Through the front door, before any of you showed up-" Gary leisurely counted on his fingers. He stayed pinching at his third fingertip, explaining himself with a serpentine smile: "And I came here because you've been so cold to me. I was wondering if there's something wrong with you nerds, since you all used to be so civil and polite... Oh, cat got your tongue, Earnest? Well, I can't blame you. I never meant to frighten you lot, but speak of the devil and he doth appear."

"Y-You had better leave! You're not welcome here!"

"I know. I wouldn't have hidden and listened to your stupid little kumbaya-circle-jerk if I wasn't aware I was eavesdropping." He mocked, acidic. Then he sweetened: "But I come in peace. I just wanted to check the pulse of your faction, and as far as I can tell it's rushing."

That was enough of Gary being Gary to render Earnest speechless. The blood that was supposedly rushing was draining from his face. The rest of us could feel our leader faltering, and the boys became equally as insecure about what they were doing. Gary looked at us, completely aware of the power he held.

"So why don't you lower your weapons?"

On the intruder's order instead of Earnest's, they all did just that. From his high horse, Gary pointed at me.

"Next up, I want to have a private chat with Beatrice. Whatever she was just talking about, I have to know more."

"No!" Algie squeaked. "We will never hand over our friend to the enemy!"

"Huh, so I am your enemy, after all... That's a shame, I thought you guys preferred being my friends."

"It's different now Gary!" Donald hissed. "We don't want to play with you anymore."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Aren't you supposed to be chill now?" Fatty asked. "Like, just here to graduate and not make trouble?"

Gary smiled, and nodded slowly.

"Even if I am, is it against those goals to enjoy a few rumours? To hear about the embarrassing things little Jimmy-boy goes through without me needing to initiate them? Please, do not antagonize me. I don't want to have enemies at this school anymore. I want a neutral standing with you." He centred his glance on Earnest again. "Although... I think you all would agree it's smarter to be in the green with me. I'm still the boogeyman that makes some of you piss your pants at night."

Earnest shuddered. The tense moment was broken by Algie's outburst:

"Nuh-uh! I don't piss myself because of you! I just have a weak bladder!"

"Algie!" I finally spoke up. My initial freeze had passed. "No, actually, everyone."

My friends all turned to me. Up above, Gary looked on with a pleased expression. He could tell I was following what he had laid out, all according to his plan.

"It's nice of you all to want to protect me, but it's okay. I'll speak with Gary. It's the easiest way out of this."

"But what about Jimmy?" Thad asked. "Isn't this betraying him?"

"I'm not going to tell him about real Jimmy am I? It's fake Jimmy who I'm putting out to dry... So, only me and my embarrassment, really."

"Still, that's too much!" Melvin insisted. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to do this." I looked up to the walkway. "I'm not scared of Gary Smith."

This simple line made rings of awe in the pond of nerds. All of them regarded me in deep reverence. Nobody saw Gary himself scoff and roll his eyes far above us. His feet made the metal walkway drum us back to his attention soon enough.

"Very well then. Why don't me and Beatrice head out to the balcony?"

I immediately went to the ladder to reach the door up top. Gary was already opening it to go out before me. But as a last word, he told me, for all to hear:

"But I imagine this will be very embarrassing for you. Why don't you make sure nobody listens in on our little talk?"

He really had this all planned out. I took the last metres of the ladder to decide on a good threat. When I leaned on the railing to speak down on them, I was trying to mimic Gary's own braggart threats in my own way.

"If any of you try to eavesdrop, whether from inside here or out in the courtyard, I'm going to leave this clique, join the cheer team and become a jock!"

A collective gasp told me I had chosen the right stick. Therefore I felt confident leaving, while throwing my carrot in the mix.

"Not that that would ever happen. I trust you all!"

The air inside the observatory has an empty taste to it, with all of that dust making galaxies much like the stars the building is supposed to give view to. When I stepped out on the balcony running around the domed top, the outside air tasted like a gulp of water. Mists were rolling from the bay. I could barely see the short end of the football field. It might have been cool, but it wasn't chilly.

Gary was leaning against the wall, far from this railing. I did the same, about one metre from him. His evil-mastermind smirk had dropped from his face. After all, the play and lies were over. Here we could be honest.

"Thank you." were the first spontaneous words out of my mouth.

"What for?"

"For arranging this place to meet. I mean, there's eight witnesses. They all saw me go up here with you. You literally can't kill me here without getting caught and that... That makes me feel safe, despite everything."

Gary chuffed out a chuckle, looking away from me.

"So you noticed?"

"I suppose I did. That's why I mean it. Thank you."

He let that hang in the air for a moment. Maybe it made him think about things. Maybe I had surprised him. Compared to his mask inside, compared to his mania at the lighthouse, this face of Gary was more bare than any I had seen before. He looked out into the mist, blinking and breathing, just being. I have no idea still of exactly how his mental health intervention went, or would be ongoing. All I know is what this moment meant to me.

Gary broke it by hitching his vest up, to reveal that my notebook was tucked in his belt on his back. It was crumpled after the weekend's adventures, but it was still mine. He handed it to me.

"You've earned it. I heard you lie to all your friends in there, and you pass."

"Means a lot, coming from you actually." I said, biting my tongue. I took the book, and started fiddle behind my own back up to hide it along my spine. "I mean, only because you're a really good liar."

"We all start somewhere." He gracefully dismissed my accidental insult. "An annoying goody-two-shoes like you had better try and catch up."

"I'll do my best!"

"God, you're such a pushover."

I halted wrangling the book into my skirt, wondering if I had upset him after all. But he was only looking out at the mist again. His eyebrows were lightly crumpled, scar still stretched taut. I wonder how he got that scar. Facial skin heals at an impressive rate, so to get a facial scar the damage has to be deep. I was in no position to ask. This was real Gary, and real Gary had a right to keep his secrets.

He sighed. I held my tongue.

"What's all that about a trial? Sentencing fake Jimmy to be punished or whatever?" Gary asked, feigning boredom.

"It's the other story of you two. There's only one entry." I said. That's when he turned to look at me as I spoke. It was the same intensity of when I told him about the meeting by the fence. He truly cared. Now that I recognized it, I actually managed some confidence as I summarized the plot: "Jimmy was married to me, but cheated with Mandy. We're all adults by the way, and you've grown up to be a private detective. You confront Jimmy with proof of his affair, and force him to do whatever you want. The blackmail is revealing to me, oh and mine and Jimmy's son, that daddy's a cheater, and Jimmy is just too eager to keep everyone happy so he goes along with you."

"Pah, that sounds like him." Gary huffs. I can hint he's actually glad to hear it. "So what did I make him do?"

"Blowjob in your car."

"And then?"

"That's all. I never continued it."

"That's a shame."

I take a moment to soak that in. It refuses to dissolve into my narrative.

"Gary, are you encouraging me to write more?"

"Beatrice, I hate what you've done to me and Jimmy, but I'll be damned if I don't admit I read that shit more than three times over because it was-" He struggles. He throws his arms out. Tries again, louder: "It was good! There. I found it good."

It frightens me to think of anyone hearing that. But as I let the echo rumble in my head, I realize it makes no sense without context. Me and Gary were wrapped up in a context so complicated it took me this long to write it all out. So I took his compliments to heart, in my own way. At the moment I just flustered:

"Well, I won't write about you two anymore. I'll write about me and Mandy, if I do feel the need to dream further than the life I can actually live now thanks to us dating but- No, I've decided, I'm never writing about you two again. Also, I'm going to become a surgeon, not a writer."

"But you already are."

This simple revelation had escaped my narrow mind until then.

Gary scratched at his neck and sauntered towards the door.

"I don't have time to hang around you anymore, and to be frank I don't want to. But if you ever release some gay book about a detective forcing an old enemy to be his bitch, I'll know it's about us. I will read it. Until then, let's not speak and just keep our people happy."

"Yes. Sure." I agreed. "Jimmy is your person."

"Like Mandy is yours." He gave me one last glare, his mocking smile back on his face. "In fact, how the fuck that happened has to be a story of its own. Write that down, won't you?"

The curtain rises, and we enter back onto the stage. Gary opens the doors and goes back inside the observatory, me following behind like a beaten dog. The nerds inside are alert, the Socratic circle having morphed into a war meeting of sorts. Once I give them a thumbs up they relax, but not fully. Gary needs to walk past them on the ground floor to exit the building proper. No weapons are raised, but he's under assault of all their disdainful looks.

"Anyway, nerds," he spoke to the room as he passed. "This has been boring, but let's remain cool in public. I might have use of you for something fun later down the line."

"We don't want to be used by you." Earnest said.

"I promise it will be mutually beneficial." Gary smoothly suggested. "But it's all moving parts. I'll be in touch, whenever I feel like it. Bye for now!"

His exit felt as loud as the slam from the front doors. I hopped off the ladder, convincing myself that nobody noticed that I had a notebook hidden under my clothes. That's the benefit of having a high-waisted skirt. When I headed back to my chair, the boys scooted around theirs to face mine in a sudden interrogation.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. See how he didn't even tell you guys a hint of what he heard?"

"You're right! How'd that happen?"

"I think I embarrassed Gary Smith."

Cheers rose towards the observatory dome. Unexpected victories make up for the ones you expect but lose. It didn't matter that it was a white lie, I revelled in the win I brought to us against our worst enemy.

"Anyway, Beatrice, we've been thinking." Melvin said. "We have deduced why you would write your fiction in your physics notebook, since nobody would ever go looking there BUT- We have come to the conclusion that you had best remove the evidence from this particular place since it has been found out."

I squirmed a little. "But I have notes on the back of every page. I need those notes for my studying."

"Then rewrite the notes!" Cornelius groaned. "Honestly Beatrice, you always do this. You do things one way for way too long, using a single excuse for why you can't change your mind. It's like your hairstyle all over again!"

"Cornelius! This half ponytail is both cute and flattering to my head shape."

"Case in point!"

"Ahem!" Earnest cleared his throat. "We are merely concerned for your safety. Especially since Gary Smith now also knows of where to find your stories. With the way you defended them last week, we don't think you want anyone to find these."

And that's when I committed to separate the stories from their original context. I sighed, and nodded at Earnest.

"Fine. I'll do it. It will be way easier than my current solution."

"And what is that?"

"I have the book right here."

The entire clique became absolutely rabid in awe of how well I had hidden that the book had been tucked in my skirt, this whole time. We rounded off the round table meeting with a battle plan, a look over for the week, and finally a dismissal to enjoy the rest of the Sunday.

The very same evening I sat in mine and Mandy's dorm room. It was night out, a very clear night compared to the misty day, and I was slaving away at my archiving duty. All physics notes were first copied over to lose papers, potentially to be pasted or copied once again into a third notebook. Then I carefully sandwiched the page between two rulers and cut it out with my scalpel. They were labelled and numbered, as you've read them here, and slotted into a folder for further construction of this very tale you're reading.

Speaking of the frame-story, the text on your retina at this moment, I had already written a first trial draft. It was meant to be the opening chapter. I say meant to, because it never made the cut. Mandy was lounging on my bed, reading it as an impromptu beta reader. It really felt awfully convenient to conspire with her instead of trying to hide this manner of a mammoth project from her. Mandy is a slow reader, so I got many pages sliced before she put the draft down.

"Remind me, Bea, what don't you like about this?"

"It just feels off, Mandy! I mean, there's so much to summarize, so much that's going to happen, and my entire narrative just feels like a tangle of threads. Did you like reading it?"

"Hmmm... I mean, kind of? It was funny to hear your voice in my head."

"You read with my voice?"

"Don't you read with voices?"

"Nevermind." I sighed. "I just don't know how to do it. I just know I want to."

"Because of what Gary told you today?"

"... Yes. The story how I got to this point is unbelievable. In retrospect, it's almost too much for me to believe too."

"I mean I get that, especially since you're spoiling the whole thing in the first paragraph."

A single, simple word made me stir. Mandy isn't bright, except when she is.

"Spoiling it?"

"Yeah this reads like the back of a movie, but it's way longer, just listing all the plot twists before it happens." She flipped back to the first page and pointed at the offending start. "Like, you start here with me kissing Jimmy, but then you say that I'm gonna become your girlfriend? That's such a spoiler! You don't know that when that happens. What did you feel for me on the day?"

"I hated you."

Mandy couldn't help giggling, flattered at the complex mention of our enemies to friends to lovers history.

"Then write it like you hate me. Call me a big fat bitch, so that you'll see for yourself how you warm up to me over the story."

"But that would make me an unreliable narrator!"

"So what? It would be interesting."

She was right. I put my scalpel down. I imagined rewriting it as I had felt from moment to moment, despite my knowledge of where everything would go. The thought of carefully lacing the text with hints made my eyes gleam like the stars outside. I left the table and entered into a warm cuddle with my dearest.

"You're brilliant Mandy."

"Yeah yeah, you're welcome."

"I love you."

"I love you too, stupid. Now which bed do we wanna sleep in tonight? Oh, wanna bang?"

Unreliable narrator or not, that was the sweet domestic bliss I had won over the course of this unbelievable narrative. I hope that my future self can call Mandy, and reminisce about the old days at Bullworth Academy. My clairvoyance about the future is not something I've managed to repeat at any large scale, especially since I've been preoccupied writing all of this in the past tense, but my point is that I don't want to bet on it. Only you, future me, knows how mine and Mandy's relationship continue. No matter if Mandy is still at my side, or if we've parted amicably or not, I really want to remember her like we were. I want to keep the time I hated her as close to my heart as the time I loved her. Because people can change.

Except maybe Jimmy. There's a timelessness to him that crowns his round head. We naturally stopped kissing since we started keeping the secret of both of our true lovers, but he's still Jimmy Hopkins. Wherever he goes in life, I am willing to make a clairvoyant bet that Gary Smith will be at his side.

Is there a final point to this long winded written record? Perhaps. I've learned to be careful what I ship for.

THE END

Chapter Text

My own drawings for this fanfic

A cover I drew for the fic, to feature in my pinned post on Tumblr. My favourite part is the depiction of the actual notebook, and how the threads of love goes through Beatrice's ears to light up her eyes.

Some shitty doodles I made to illustrate how banal and silly the confession scene is from Mandy's perspective. I think I'll write more with her voice, but there's a taste how how I imagine her in here.

Transcription because my handwriting is so-so: Panel 1: She's close. Panel 2: God I'm gay. Panel 3: Whu-. Panel 4: GOD I'M GAY

THE FANART!!!

This fanart was dropped with no warning in my askbox, and I'm still OBSESSED WITH IT. It looks so good! I recommend turning it upside down to enjoy it from all angles too! They're so cute!!!!!!!!!!!! And then there's Jimmy and Gary on the torn notebook pages and I'M EATING DIRT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Big thanks to Gyeoja on Tumblr. You should follow them and look at all of their cool Bully art.

While this has a similar composition to my own cover-art this one GOES SO HARD HAHAHAHAH! I love seeing how the same vibe can be drawn in so many different ways! The kiss between the boys is so stupid-sexy rather than anything else, and them being shirtless just completes it so well! I also love Bea's expression, because yeah, we've been there.

This piece was done by MeiWindrunner who has also been a frequent commenter here on Ao3. Thank you for everything!

These doodles are TECHNICALLY not specific to my fanfic, but Sanuue from tumblr dot com is a good Internet person of mine. The great artist is plagued by a love for Cornelius, a widely underused character in this fandom, so rare in fan-works that this fic's crumbs is Sanuue's favourite meal. I'm very flattered, and supposed to write a Cornelius centered fic to feed this poor soul properly.

That said, Sanuue is also very funny and has cool Bullworth OC! Please check him out!

JFDLAFJSKALFJALFJDJALFJDLKJFALKJFDSL, yeah Hija-ck drew this for me as part of an art trade. I'm so cool about it. See how Mandy and Bea are looking at each other? And Zoe is looking ahead to where Gary is? I'M SO NORMAL ABOUT IT! It is ofc not 100% accurate, but the few fixes makes for such a delicious composition, such a dramatic bit of lighting, and such a FUCKING COOL FANART AFHDSFDLSJFSDLJFSDKSJF

Thank you again! I'll link my GaryZoe fic here once I've actually posted it.

More art?

I'd love to collect all possible art in this silly extra credits chapter of this fic. If you draw anything, even the shittiest doodle, I would be honoured to have it here. Have you drawn something? Will you draw something? Get in touch with me on Tumblr and I will be hype beyond words and get your picture posted right here! This is my digital fridge, and all of your drawings will fit on it!