Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The field was still damp from the storm last night. Jackie's feet squishing awkwardly and to be honest, disgustingly, through the grass. She could hear the sound of the whistle on the other side of the field where the soccer players practiced. She tightened the scrunchie on her head, her hair pulling into the ponytail on top of her head almost painfully.

Jackie didn’t need to look around to know Natalie was there.

She didn’t need to hear her voice to feel it either.

Still, Jackie looked.

Across the field, around the benches and water barrels and Gatorades was Natalie Scatorccio. Grabbing a paper cup and filling it to the brim with red gatorade. The worst flavor.

Not to mention Natalie looked like a mess. Wearing a baggy ripped up shirt and gym shorts far too baggy to be practicing in. A stark contrast to Jackie’s pristine, perfectly ironed cheer uniform. (She had meticulously ironed and re-ironed it last night 3 times).

Jackie also needed water.

The universe had a fucked-up sense of humor, clearly.

Jackie took a few deep breaths and straightened out her skirt before walking over to the benches and the water jug.. And Natalie.

She straightened her shoulders and ignored her presence as usual. Natalie usually says uncalled for things to get under her skin and Jackie always finds herself feeling like she’s in a battle with Natalie. It’s infuriating.

Jackie grabs a paper cup from the stack– a few already tipped over probably from the soccer girls.

“Hey there glitter girl,” Of course– Natalie's voice breaks through the silent trickle of the water pouring slowly out from the spout of the jug. “Another day, another backflip. You guys win nationals yet or just still practicing how to spell it?”

Jackie's jaw clenches and her grip around the paper cup tightens, crumpling it slightly.

Of course– Of course Natalie just HAD to go and say something.

Natalie's eyeliner was smudged in a lazy and distasteful way. Her hair was messy and her bangs shaggy and hanging low on her eyes. Bleached an obnoxiously ugly yellow-blonde. Her lips were curled up in the same crooked smirk that always felt like it was reserved for Jackie.

Jackie inhales sharply for a moment, and then regroups herself. Rolls her shoulders back and tilts her head up straight- eyes narrowing. “Still jealous that more people show up to watch us cheer than watch you and your teams little kicking falling down thing?”

Natalie clicked her tongue. “It’s called soccer. And don’t worry, I know it’s hard for you to remember sports that require more than choreography and being thrown in the air.”

Jackie's eyebrows shoot up at this and her hand clamps round that paper cup a little tighter.

They’d met a week ago. Technically. Jackie had seen Natalie talking to Lottie outside the dining hall. Just a few minutes. Nothing major.

But Jackie had picked up the scent of drama like a bloodhound. It’s no secret that Lottie and Natalie had something going on and dated last year.

And Jackie just couldn’t let it go. People had warned her about Natalie. Said she was a bitch. A headcase. A slut. That Natalie cheated on Lottie. That Natalie treated her like shit.

And nobody messes with her friends– No, her girls. HER GIRLS.

Jackie gave Natalie a glare. She’s not worth her time. She turns to walk away.

However, Natalie leaned just slightly against the table the water cooler sat on, stretching her arm over her head in a calculated kind of laziness. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said casually, her voice syrupy sweet in the most insincere way. “This little thing we’ve got going on? It’s kinda romantic. What do you think?”

Jackie's throat tightens. Her throat burns and heat creeps up her neck and face. Excuse me?

The girl who decides to pick fights with her every day is now saying things like that??

Jackie takes a breath before scoffing- eyes wide and looking at Natalie’s stupid face. “Excuse me?”

Natalie tilted her head, eyes glinting in a devilish way. “The obsession. Always being around me. You pretend not to care while memorizing my entire social schedule. It’s.. cute. Honestly? I’m flattered Jackie.”

Jackie’s mouth dropped open slightly, the flush on her cheeks darkening from effort to pure offense. Her stomach churns with a weird funny feeling. “Oh my god. You’re insane.” She shifts her feet. She sets her cup of water on the bench. Her hands clench into fists. Almost.

“I mean, maybe,” Natalie hums. “But..” she drops her voice to barely a whisper and leans in close enough to brush her shoulder against Jackie’s bare arm, “if this is how you flirt, it’s kinda working. The hate-love thing is kind of cute.”

Jackie pulled back an inch, visibly flustered now. She looked over her shoulder, like checking if anyone was watching. Her mouth opened, closed again.

She decides storming off is better than giving Natalie any more attention.

 

 

 

               The cafeteria smells like fried food and chlorine. That’s probably due to the fact that the swim team just walked in and dragged half the pool with them.

 

Jackie sits at a round table near the windows, ponytail redone to perfection, her white cheer hoodie cinched at the wrists.

Her tray sits untouched. Grilled chicken, side salad, and an unopened chocolate milk.

She stabs a cucumber with her fork, hard, like it insulted her mother.

“She's so weird,” Jackie says for the fourth time. “Like, so weird.”

Taissa nods along, sipping iced coffee like she’s heard this rant a hundred times before. “You’ve said that.”

“Well, she is!” Jackie snaps. “She cornered me at the water station again.”

Lottie raises an eyebrow. “Cornered?”

Jackie glares. “She said she was flattered that I was obsessed with her. Like I—me—am obsessed with her.”

Lottie gives a slow blink, like she’s trying to hide a smile. A slightly sad one as if there’s more underneath it. “Sounds like she’s messing with you.”

Jackie bristles at this. “Obviously, Lot. It’s just getting to a point.”

Another stab to a poor cucumber. Then to a tomato. She shoves both into her mouth and chews- imagining its Natalie in a paper shredder.

Taissa’s eyebrow twitches. Lottie winces slightly at Jackie's aggressive chewing.

“And you don’t care, right? About what she’s saying to you, I mean.” Taissa's expression is slightly suspicious. Natalie is all Jackie has talked about in the past thirty minutes.

Jackie’s face scrunches like she just bit into a slice of lemon. “Of course not. Why would I care what Natalie Scatorccio thinks of me?”

“I didn’t say care,” Taissa says calmly. “It just seems like you’re giving her a lot of your energy, Jack.”

Jackie crosses her arms tightly over her chest, letting out a huff of a sigh. “She’s giving me her energy. I’m not giving her mine. –It’s harassment. It’s weird. Like what does she even want from me?”

Lottie rests her chin in her palm, looking off into the distance of the cafeteria. “Maybe she just wants to see if you’ll break.”

Jackie scoffs. “She thinks I’ll break? Please. I’ve been cheering since I was nine. I have a 3.9 GPA. I’ve trained through a sprained wrist and shin splints. I don’t break.”

Taissa leans back in her chair. “Okay..”

Jackie picks up her chocolate milk but doesn’t drink it, just twisting the carton in her hand. Her voice gets quieter. Her eyebrows scrunch in either annoyance or disgust. She's not quite sure which to be honest. “She just walks around like nothing matters. Like she doesn’t care what anyone thinks. It’s so—fake.”

Lottie watches her closely. “Are you sure it’s fake?”

“She’s a mess,” Jackie snaps. “Everyone knows about you and her, Lottie. No offense.”

“None taken,” Lottie says dryly.

Jackie continues.. “She gets into fights. Shows up to class late. Talks to professors like they’re her friends. She probably does drugs in the parking lot.”

Taissa quirks an eyebrow. “Do you do drugs in the parking lot?”

Jackie rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Well, then you’re safe,” Taissa deadpans. “Keep your distance.”

“I am keeping my distance!” Jackie says defensively, groaning. “She’s the one who comes over every damn day. I can’t even get water without her showing up like a ghost that smells like shitty beer and cigarettes.”

Lottie lets out a quiet laugh- though it feels forced. Sad. “So don’t talk to her.”

“I don’t. She talks to me.” Jackie mumbles.

“And you talk back.”

Jackie throws her fork down. “Because she says insane things and then just walks away! Like—like some deranged pickup artist! It’s like—like she’s waiting to see how red my face can get!”

“Just ignore her then, Jackie.” Taissa sighs- annoyed from talking about Natalie for this long. “It’s that simple. You’re upsetting Lottie by talking about this so much today so just stop.”

Jackie just nods and mumbles a small soft sorry to Lottie.

She didn’t mean to make Lottie think back on bad times or whatever.

She just wanted her friends to help with a shitty situation.

She’ll just ignore Natalie when she sees her at practice again tomorrow. Taissa’s advice is normally right.

The turf was dewy in that gross soggy way again. The sun was just high enough to glint off the silver of bleachers and make the squad uniforms look freshly bleached.

Perfect. Other than the risk of slipping and twisting her ankle- Today would be a good practice.

That is if Natalie doesn’t try to pull some shit again.

Jackie inhaled through her nose, slow and deep, as she shifted into her forward lunge to warm up, left leg bent, right leg extended, arms overhead. She did everything by the book. Posture, alignment, breath control. Perfect. Always. It had to be.

Her fingers brushed the ground as she transitioned into her side split, chest proud, jaw set. She wasn’t thinking about Natalie right now.

Okay, maybe a little bit. But not in a weird way, seriously. Just in a monitor-the-local-threat kind of way. Like if someone let a dog with rabies loose in the dorm laundry room. She had to keep tabs.

From her peripheral, across the shared athletic fields, Natalie was juggling a soccer ball on her thighs like it was nothing. Over and over, not even looking at it. Lazy as she always was.

Natalie’s mustard yellow (Okay, maybe that's a bit too dramatic) hair was tied up in a frayed elastic band, maybe a tattoo peeking out from under her sleeve, ripped socks, crooked laces. just chaos. No order. No polish. And somehow, people thought she was cool.

Jackie didn’t get it.

She flopped onto her back and pulled her leg into a hamstring stretch, exhaling sharply. Not thinking about her.

Definitely not still playing that awful sentence from yesterday over in her head. “If this is how you flirt, it’s kinda working.”

Ugh. Her stomach turned. She shouldn’t care. Natalie was just a mean, trashy girl who clearly got off on making other people uncomfortable. That’s all it was. A desperate ploy for attention.

Jackie rolled her eyes to herself. Then stood. Stretched her legs out as she did.

Practice was starting soon, but Jackie was already warm. She grabbed her bottle from the sidelines and adjusted the hem of her cheer skirt.

And of course out of the corner of her eye Natalie turned and walked toward the water station. The universe was taunting Jackie. It has to be.

Jackie could’ve stayed on her side of the field. Could’ve been the bigger person. Could’ve ignored her. But she didn’t. Probably because of the comments from yesterday circling through her brain over and over again all night and this morning.

She marched across the gross wet grass like she had a mission. Her heart was hammering annoyingly loud. Her palms a little too warm. She hated that. Hated how Natalie had that effect on her.

Natalie bent slightly to grab a bottle, glancing up just in time to spot her. “Oh,” she said lazily, lips quirking as she straightened. Greeting Jackie as if they were friends. They aren't even anything close to friendly. “Hi, Jackie. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jackie’s fists clenched at her sides, teeth gritting together in her mouth.“You think you’re really funny, don’t you?”

Natalie took a long sip of water, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sometimes. It depends on the audience. You’re kind of a tough crowd, but I think I’m getting to you.” A cheesy grin.

Jackie scowled. “God, you’re–”

She stopped herself. She had something. Something really good earlier that she maybe rehearsed in her head over and over to say to Natalie.

What was it?

Natalie was tacky.

Natalie looked like she lived in a gas station.

Natalie…

Jackie’s eyes flicked to the chipped up black nail polish on Natalie’s fingers. Of course she has black nail polish.

She glanced down at the fading bruises on her knees. To the faint smudge of dirt across her sharp cheekbone. Gross.

She was gross.

She was..

“You’re just so-” Jackie stammered, trying to summon just enough venom. “You always look like you just got kicked out of a thrift store. Your clothes never match.” She sneers. “You smell like.. you smell like.. Uhh.. beer and desperation. It’s disgusting and honestly? Embarrassing."

Natalie’s eyes widened slightly, but not with offense.

She just smiled. Slow. Lazy. Like she was enjoying this.

Like this was just perfectly amusing for her.

Fuck.

Jackie’s breath hitched in her throat.

Then Natalie licked her bottom lip, leaned a little closer. “Jesus, Jackie. If you’re gonna talk dirty to me, at least buy me dinner first.”

Jackie blinked. Her entire body locked up like her nervous system had short-circuited. “What?” she spat.

She didn’t say anything dirty. Not that she can recall.

Her brows scrunch together in confusion and frustration.

Natalie leaned back, blinking innocently. “You said I smell like beer and desperation. That’s kind of hot depending on the context.”

Jackie’s jaw dropped. “That’s not? I wasn’t? oh my god.”

Heat creeps up her neck. Leave it to Natalie Scatorccio to find an innuendo in anything and everything.

Natalie just shrugged. As if this was simple and normal and not at all weird or obnoxious. “Don’t kink-shame me.”

“You’re insane,” Jackie snapped, flustered, backing up half a step like proximity itself was dangerous.

Natalie looked up at the sky, unfazed. “So you told me.”

Jackie turned away so fast she nearly dropped her bottle. Pissed off and wanting any excuse to get out of here. She storms back across the field, face blazing, heart racing, teeth grinding so hard her jaw ached.

Behind her, Natalie whistled just a low, amused note. Jackie didn’t look back.

By the time she got back to her squad, her entire brain was pulsing with white noise.

Taissa glanced over. “You good?” she asked.

 

Jackie didn’t answer. She just dropped into a split and forced a smile. Because no matter how weird, gross, or infuriating Natalie Scatorccio was, Jackie Taylor did not let girls like her get under her skin. Even when it felt like Natalie had crawled into her veins and lit a cigarette.

Chapter Text

Jackie didn’t slam the door, because she wasn’t the type to slam things. She was the type to secretly obsess over things that bother her in her head.

But she did close it a little harder than necessary, the dull thunk of the dorm’s automatic latch echoing behind her like a final word she hadn’t gotten to say.

The room was warm, the sun filtering through the half open blinds in neat golden beams that fell across her neatly made bed.

Jackie’s dorm was pristine. A single dorm- insisted upon by her mother. Color coded pens lined the edge of her desk, her highlighters in rainbow order.

There was a candle (unlit sadly, per campus rules) and a bulletin board above her desk with pinned up photos.

Her and Taissa at their senior prom. Her and Lottie on a ski trip. A cheer squad picture from Regionals last year, smiling with pompoms and shiny white teeth.

No pictures of Natalie. Obviously.

Jackie sat down at her desk and flipped open her workbook, trying to focus. Her laptop was already cracked open to the psych lecture slides she was behind on.
She picked up her mechanical pencil with the kind of aggression that made the lead immediately snap.

She hissed and clicked it back out with her thumb quickly.

 

Jackie scribbled down the bullet point from the first slide.

Classical Conditioning: Associating a neutral stimulus with a reflex.

She underlined it.
Her pencil tapped against her cheek while she stared at the next slide.

The words blurred slightly. She squinted her eyes tight for a moment.

Operant Conditioning: Behavior shaped by consequences. Positive and negative reinforcement.

What were the consequences of telling a girl she was gross… only for that girl to flirt back shamelessly and act like it was foreplay?

Apparently, humiliation.

Psychological warfare, maybe.

Scratch that.

Psychological warfare, DEFINITELY.

She underlines that a few times, scribbling her pen into the page.

A flaring, hot embarrassment that started in Jackie’s stomach and bloomed outward like a rash.

Jackie wrote underneath it - Psychological warfare (Natalie S.)

She paused. Drew a little angry scribble over the name and then erased it completely, though the name was still slightly visible. The paper was slightly torn there in the way paper does when rubbed by an eraser too many times.

“God,” she mumbled again, leaning back in her chair, uncomfortably, and rubbing her eyes.

The memory replayed like an annoying TikTok sound.

Natalie with her stupid smirk and the way she leaned in, all confidence and cigarette breath and zero shame.

“Jesus, Jackie. If you’re gonna talk dirty to me, at least buy me dinner first.”

Jackie felt heat crawl back up her neck. Her face. Her ears.

Very unwanted.

She hated how it stuck with her.

Hated how Natalie turned things around so easily like nothing can touch her. Like Jackie couldn’t get under her skin if she tried.

It wasn’t even fair. Natalie didn’t even care about being liked.

That was what was so annoying about her.

How little of a shit she gave about things.

On the other hand, Jackie had to be perfect.

She had to be the girl that everyone either wanted to be or be with.

Had to have her lip gloss matched to her top and her GPA above a 3.9 and her hair curled before 9 a.m.

And Natalie just existed. In a ripped up hoodie and a pair of beat-up Converse.

Thinking she could say whatever she wanted. Do whatever she wants to.

Make Jackie look like a flustered idiot every time she tries to put her in her place.

God.

Jackie opens a new page in her notebook, flipping past the half-hearted psych notes.

She grips her pencil a little too hard.

Natalie Scatorccio is not cool. Underlined it.

And then she added: Not worth my time. Not interesting. Not sexy. Not mysterious.

She paused and then she added: Not even that funny.

Jackie stared at the list. Then furiously flipped the page, crinkling under her fingers.

The hallway outside her dorm was suddenly pretty loud. Someone was yelling about dining hall hours, a door slamming two rooms down.

Great. Going to sleep tonight will go great!

 

The next morning, the sun was attempting to stretch out across the field in streaks of pale pink and silver.

The grass was damp. Jackie could feel it soaking through the soles of her sneakers even as she jogged from her dorm. Her warm-up jacket was zipped up halfway, earbuds in and playing some curated playlist she made to get her in the zone. Clean, focused, polished. Taylor Swift– Obviously.
She had a 9 a.m. marketing class after practice. A quiz. She’d studied for it. Highlighted every term. Even after struggling and having to reread every sentence because for some reason the words blurred together or flipped around the page.
She was ready.
Or she was.
Until she saw her.
Natalie Scatorccio, of course, already out on the field.

She was drenched in sweat, a blue tank top loose around her chest with a yellow number 7 on the back.

Her sports bra was just barely visible, shin guards crooked like she didn’t give a shit.
Not that she ever gave a shit.
She kicked a ball lazily against the wall beside the water station like she didn’t even try to look like she belonged at a D1 school.
Jackie scoffs at the sight of her.
She was just there. Like a stain Jackie couldn’t scrub out of her week.
Her life.
Jackie unclipped the top of her water bottle and tilted her head up, taking a slow sip while the cheer squad started stretching around her.

She was early and that’s a good thing. It gives her time to be calm. To be ready. To try to ignore Natalie's usual antics.
She capped the bottle and turned back toward the field, just glancing over for a second. Not even.
But– Natalie spotted her.
And she waved.
A slow, deliberate, almost sleepy wave.

The kind of wave you'd give your neighbor while they’re dragging a trash can to the curb. One-handed. Barely a flick of her fingers. Smirk included, of course. Always that smirk.
Jackie paused mid-step.
Her stomach twisted.
She regretted even looking in that direction.
Natalie didn’t mean it. The wave wasn’t meant to be nice. Jackie isn't stupid.
It was mocking. A performance. Just like every other godforsaken thing Natalie did.
Jackie took a breath. Counted to three and even closed her eyes for a moment.

Then she took a step. And then another.
She should be stretching right now.
But her body had already started moving.
She stormed toward Natalie.
Turf squelching beneath her feet, god that's disgusting, the wind catching the hem of her cheer skirt as she crossed the benches between the cheer half of the field and the soccer side.
She could feel her teammates watching her. Good, Let them.
Someone needed to put Nasty Natalie in her place. Someone needed to say something to her.

Natalie turned her head as Jackie approached, still casually unscrewing her Gatorade.
She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t even say anything this time,” she said, voice dry. “Impressive restraint.”
Jackie stopped two feet in front of her, fists clenching at her sides. Her jaw clenched hard. She had to take a breath before speaking.
“What is wrong with you?”
Natalie blinked, feigning innocence. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
Jackie stepped closer. Her voice was sharp and slightly shrill. She probably looked crazy. She feels crazy right now. “Do you seriously have nothing better to do than follow me around and make stupid little comments and wave at me like we’re–”
“Friends?” Natalie offered whilst tilting her head. Challenge in her eyes but a smirk on her lips. “Oh, god forbid.”
Jackie glared. “You’re obsessed with making me uncomfortable.”
“I think you’re doing that all on your own, babe.”
Jackie’s jaw tightened even more.
“Don’t call me that.”
Natalie took a lazy sip of her drink and just stared at her. “Noted.”
There were people on the field now.
Soccer girls doing their side shuffles.
Jackies cheer girls jogging laps and stretching in the grass.
Someone was blaring music from a portable speaker in the corner of the field.

But the world had narrowed to just this little radius of heat and humiliation and Natalie’s stupid, unreadable face. Because of course it did. It always did.
“You act like everything’s a joke” Jackie snapped. Her words coming out sharp like a weapon. Snarky. “Like you think you’re better than everyone. Like nothing matters to you. But it does matter. People see you talking to me. They assume things.”
Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Assume what?”
Jackie flushed. “That I’m like you.”
Natalie’s smirk faltered just for a second.
Then she shrugged. “Well, you’re not. You’ve got better hair.”
Jackie scowled. Her eyes narrow. “I’m not playing this game with you anymore, Natalie.”
“Pretty sure you are though. You walked all the way over here just to talk to me again but acted like I followed you. You even said I followed you.” Natalie leaned against the water table. “You do that a lot. Lie.”
Jackie blinked. Stunned by the audacity and totally not the fact she was kind of called out. But it really does feel like Natalies always around her. Orbiting her. Messing with her.
“I.. what?”
“You show up and then you yell. If that doesn't work, you do your mean-girl thing.” Natalie looked her up and down, slow and deliberate. “And I think… okay. Maybe today’s the day she finally asks me out.”
Jackie’s whole body went stiff.
The audacity of Natalie Scatorccio.
“I hate you,” she said, but it came out strangled. She was practically seething.
Natalie leaned in just slightly, her voice low and amused. “You wish you hated me. But in reality, you're obsessed with me, aren't you?”
Jackie opened her mouth a couple of times, but no words came out. Like a fish gasping out of water. Her face felt like it was on fire.
Somewhere nearby, the soccer coach blew a whistle. Practice formations started shifting. A cheerleader called her name from across the turf.
Thank god.
Jackie stepped back. She looked at Natalie long and hard.
“Stay the hell away from me,” she hissed.
Natalie saluted. “No promises.”
Jackie turned on her heel and walked away. She took quick sharp steps that felt like too much and not enough all at once.
Her chest was tight and her hands were shaking.
And Natalie—that freak—was still standing there. Watching her go.

 

The sound of her own breathing was too loud in her ears.

Everything was too loud right now.
Jackie Taylor stood at the edge of the turf with her fists clenched tight and her eyes fixed ahead and pretending she didn’t feel her chest tighten every time she blinked.
Finally away from Natalie she was able to practice.
However, practice was only fifteen minutes in and she’d already messed up three times.
Three.
The first was a timing error during warm-up flips. The second time she landed her aerial half a beat too late. The third time. God, the third time, she said the wrong count on an eight-count drill she’d known since junior year of high school. It echoed out of her mouth like a completely different person had said it.
She could feel their gazes burn into her. Her squad. Her coach. Lottie. Taissa.
Even Natalie, who was probably off somewhere by the water table. Pretending not to watch her crash and burn.
Her stomach was coiled in a very tight knot that had nothing to do with her period or the leftover green juice she had for breakfast.
Something was really off.
No, everything was off.
The lace of her cheer skirt wasn’t centered, she had just noticed that. It tugged slightly left against her hip, no matter how many times she adjusted it. Annoying.
Her sleeves felt uneven.
Even the grass beneath her cleats felt strange today.
Lottie’s voice cut through the stretch line softly. “Jack?”
Jackie didn’t answer. She just kept her head down, embarrassed and disappointed in herself.
“Hey,” Lottie said again, quieter and gently stepping closer. “Are you okay?”
Jackie snapped her head up to look at her.
“I’m fine” she said, sharper than she meant to. “I’m just tired, I didn’t sleep.”
Lottie’s eyebrows pinched at the sharp tone, slightly hurt. But she backed off, nodding slowly. “Okay.. Sorry.”
Jackie couldn’t deal with it. Not right now. Not Lottie's pity that she somehow had reserved for anyone and everyone like they were some sort of charity case.
She grabbed her bag and stormed off the field, calling over her shoulder “I’ve got a quiz. Professor Levinson doesn’t allow late arrivals.”
It was maybe a half lie. She did have a quiz today. But she could’ve stayed ten more minutes. She could’ve calmed herself down. She could’ve tried again.
Instead, she speed walked across campus, still in full uniform, skirt brushing against her thighs, like she hadn’t just cratered mid-routine.
Her hands kept fidgeting. Her thumb rolled at the end of the skirt lace over and over. Thumb to nail. Press, twist.
Again. Again.

 

Jackie slid into her seat in the lecture hall. The second row from the front and center seat. The same spot she always sat in every day.

Her laptop creaked open to a blank Word doc with her name already typed at the top. The slides from the last lecture were pulled up in a tab beside it.

Her pencil case sat on the desk, unzipped, highlighters arranged in chromatic order.
Breathe in. Breathe out. She thought to herself a few times.
She smoothed her palms against the tabletop twice.

Pressed her lips together once.
Twisted the lace on her skirt one more time for good measure.
The TA walked by and dropped the quiz packets onto the desk with a cheerful, “Good morning!”
Like a toothache.
Jackie nodded stiffly.
She could do this. She studied her notes all week. She reviewed every slide. Even made flashcards and laminated them. Color coded, handwritten flashcards.
She knew this material.
So why the hell was her vision starting to blur?
The professor clicked the timer on the projector.
Forty Five minutes.
The clock started counting down. The ticking being the only sound in the quiet lecture hall.
Jackie flipped the quiz packet open to the first page.
Her heart dropped. The words blurred together before she could even manage to read the question.

"Which of the following is NOT an example of negative reinforcement?"

Easy. She should know that.

The key word is should.

But the options swam in front of her eyes. The words are too close together. The letters are wrong. She reread it once. Then twice. She circled something random. Maybe c or d.
Her breath stuttered for a moment. She breathed in and out to stabilize herself for a moment.
Question #2:

"In Pavlov’s classical conditioning experiment, what was the conditioned response?"

She stared at it. Then reread it again.
The words looked foreign. Mangling on the page.
She knew this. She knew this stuff two days ago.
But– now it was like her brain had taken everything she’d studied and shoved it into a file cabinet with no labels.
She reached down to fidget with something.
The lace on her skirt twisted hard around her fingers. She looped at it, pulled it, let it go. Twisted the lace again. Her nails dug into the skin at her knuckles.
Everyone around her scribbled. Their pages flipped.
Her throat closed up.
The wrongness pressed down on her. The lines on the page weren’t straight. They tilted. Her name looked wrong at the top of the document.

The girl to her left was chewing her gum way too loud. The guy in the front row had one sock higher than the other one.
Her pencil case zipper wasn’t laying flat.
Everything. Everything. Everything.
Her chest squeezed tight, her breaths slightly ragged.
Why couldn’t she think?
She blinked hard and tried to take a breath. It caught halfway in her lungs and stayed there. Lingered. Her lungs felt tight. Shriveled up like raisins.
She forced her hand to move on the page. She circled something on the third question. Then she immediately blacked it out so aggressively the pen ripped through the paper.
Control yourself, Jacqueline.
She hears her mothers voice in her head. It’s not the first time shes struggled to read things. It's been a problem her whole life.
Focus.
Fix it.
Her mother’s voice echoes in her head.

Twenty minutes left on the clock.

Jackie stared at her paper.
Stared through it. As if that would help her.
Some people thought Jackie Taylor was too dramatic.
Too type A. Too uptight.

A perfectionist in that eye roll kind of way. Like it was some cute quirk she tried to wear with her cheer uniform.
The girl with the color coordinated notebooks. The color coded calendar, and the perfect high ponytail and perfect friends and perfect smile.
But no one really thought of why.
No one saw her mom vacuuming the house three times before guests came over. Nobody saw her dad straightening the picture frames on the wall like crooked pictures were a personal attack to their family and legacy.
No one saw the way Jackie’s mistakes didn’t just earn consequences and how they earned silence.
Coldness.
The kind of quiet that made a girl feel like she’d disappeared completely into nothingness.
“You’re not depressed,” Her mom would say if she cried. “You’re just not grateful enough.”
Her dad’s favorite thing to say was:
“You don’t have anxiety, Jacqueline. You’re just lazy and avoiding all of the hard stuff.”
When she was younger, she started calling it “The Game.”
Do everything right, and you’re safe.
Get perfect grades. Have perfect hair. Perfect behavior, and then you’re safe.

But be anything less?

Do anything less?

And then suddenly you’re the problem. You’re a failure to the family. To God.

 

The quiz had been a disaster obviously.
Jackie had tried to keep her face neutral when she stood up from her chair, paper in hand.
The ripped corner of question three was fluttering in her grip like a flag of surrender.
Her fingers were trembling. She didn’t even notice at first.
She clutched the quiz tighter in her hands to keep her shaking hands from showing.
Professor Levinson barely glanced up as she approached his desk.
Jackie forced her lips into a neutral line. Her expression was not panicked. Nothing looked obviously wrong. She slipped the paper onto the stack, exhaled through her nose, and turned to leave the classroom.
And then her vision went a little fuzzy.
Her hand curled into a fist instinctively. Not the first time she’s felt this way.
She rubbed the side of her hand, that soft patch of skin between her thumb and pointer finger in circular motions slowly.
Rub.
Breathe.
Count.
One. Two. Three.
She didn’t stop walking. She couldn’t.

If she stopped walking, doing anything right now, she’d break apart.

 

The campus sidewalk stretched on far too long. She barely registered the kids biking past or the buzz of campus chatter. The scent of something smelled too sweet from the nearby coffee truck.
Her ears were ringing.
Her heart wouldn’t slow down. Not at all.
She pressed a hand flat against her stomach. It was too tight, like her organs were being wrung out from the inside.
Breathe. Just breathe, Jackie.
She walked toward the dining hall on autopilot. Her fingernail dug into the side of her thumb without realizing it. She jolted slightly and pulled it away. She went back to doing the rubbing motion on her hand instead. Slow and grounding.
Her thoughts were repeating like a broken record over and over again.

You failed.
You’re slipping.
Everyone will know.

You can’t afford this.

You’re supposed to be the one who has it together.

The thought of her mother’s voice rattled in her brain again.
"How embarrassing, Jacqueline. How could you not know the answer to something you studied for? How can you not read words that are simply written on a sheet of paper?”
She blinked hard. Her eyes stung like she was going to cry.
She took a breath and pushed the feeling down.
The dining hall loomed in front of her.
A normal thing. Familiar. Food. Routine.
She could definitely do routine.

 

Inside of the dining hall Jackie moved a little too quickly.
She grabbed a bowl of strawberries. She also grabbed a protein bar and a bagel she didn’t really want but she still grabbed it anyway.
Her stomach still twisted up like a pretzel, but she forced herself through the familiar motions.
Like if she could just eat something, sit down and laugh at someone’s joke it would all go away.

Lottie was already at their usual table. The one near the window, sitting with two iced teas and her laptop open. Taissa was scrolling through her phone, earbuds half in.
Jackie plastered on her smile. She titled her head up and fixed her posture.
“Hey,” she said, her voice a little too high.
Lottie looked up. Smiled at the sight of her. “Hey! How’d the quiz go?”
Jackie sat down. Shrugged. Acted normal. “Fine.”
Her hands were still shaking. She decided to keep them under the table.
“Didn’t you say it was like fifty percent of your grade?” Taissa asked, one brow raised, biting into a carrot stick dipped in ranch.
Jackie shrugged like it didn’t matter. Like she had everything under control. Like she didn't feel stupoid for not being able to read the questions. “Yeah, but I studied. I’m gonna get a good grade.”
Lottie gave her a long soft look.
Jackie ignored it and bit into the bagel.
It tasted like cardboard and even her teeth felt wrong against it.

Her hands curled under the table. She shifted how she was sitting and started to rub her palm again with her thumb.
Under control, she repeats in her head.
She has to stay under control.
Lottie watches her carefully. The usual Lottie concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jackie’s smile strained. She wanted to throw up. Punch something, or even better: rip her own hair out.

Instead she just speaks in a calm voice. “Totally. Just tired.”
Lottie opened her mouth to say something else but Jackie cuts in first.
“Is it just me or is the new psych TA like weirdly into Star Wars? He brought up Jedi metaphors during conditioning theory.”
Taissa snorts. Another bite of the carrot. “It’s always the psych majors.”
The topic shifted thankfully.
Laughter returned to the table.
Jackie let herself breathe even if just for a moment.