Walking contradiction
Jackie’s sitting on Jeff’s bed with her hands in her lap and her heart pounding like she’s running sprints. The lights are dim, he’s got Third Eye Blind playing on his stereo, and his parents are out.
She’s here. She showed up. She said, “Hey, wanna hang?” in that breezy, flirty voice she’s practiced since freshman year. He said yes. Of course he said yes.
Now she’s trying not to shake.
Jeff sits next to her, all cologne and muscle and that dumb Abercrombie shirt he wears when he wants to look “nice.”
She kisses him.
It’s not bad. It’s just…
Wrong.
Her hands slide to his shoulders. She pushes her body against his. She kisses him harder. She’s trying. She really is.
He pulls back, forehead creasing. “Hey.”
“What?” Jackie says, too fast.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she snaps.
Jeff looks at her, gentle. “You don’t have to—y’know. If you’re not feeling it.”
“I am.”
He pauses. “You’re shaking.”
Jackie bites her lip. “It’s cold.”
“It’s not.”
Jackie glares. “Why are you ruining this?”
“Because I like you,” Jeff says. “And you look like you’re about to cry.”
Jackie stands up. “I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“I came here to—” she starts, and then doesn’t finish.
Jeff sits up straighter. “To what?”
Jackie runs her hands through her hair. “I don’t know. Be normal. Be who I was supposed to be. Be the girl you wanted, maybe.”
Jeff looks heartbroken. “Jackie…”
She turns away. Her voice cracks. “Do you even know what it’s like to be the girl who’s watched? Who’s expected to be perfect all the time and then isn’t even interesting enough for her best friend to fall in love with?”
Silence.
Jeff says, quietly: “You’re more than that. You always were.”
Jackie sits back down. Buries her face in her hands. Her voice is muffled. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Jeff hesitates, then puts his arm around her.
She doesn’t flinch.
She just cries.
⸻
The girls’ bathroom smells like cheap soap and whatever perfume Misty dumped all over herself this week. The flickering overhead light makes everything look like a horror movie.
Lottie’s pressed against the stall door. Shauna’s lips are on her neck, her hand tangled in the hem of Lottie’s uniform skirt.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this in here,” Lottie whispers, smiling.
Shauna smirks. “I can.”
Their mouths meet again, messy and desperate, muffled gasps against each other’s skin.
Outside the stall, there’s a burst of giggles.
“Okay, ew,” Van says, through the door. “Can y’all get a room that doesn’t smell like gym socks?”
Tai snorts. “Damn, that stall’s shaking.”
Inside, Shauna rolls her eyes. “Sorry, we didn’t realize this was a sacred space.”
Van calls back, “Just don’t desecrate the tampon box. That’s my altar now.”
Lottie’s laughing quietly against Shauna’s collarbone. “They’re gonna make fun of us forever.”
Shauna shrugs, adjusting her flannel over Lottie’s shoulders. “I’ll get them for you.”
⸻