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It's Thursday, and Roxy receives an engraved invitation in the form of a sneer and a head tilt, directed at her from across the room, across the sea of heads, right through Jane’s smile and Jake’s grin and Dirk’s offer of a walk home.
She says, "No thanks man, you know I got an inner ear like a fuckin’ Olympic gymnast, I got no trouble walking this li’l ol’ body home."
He says, "Okay."
So she walks outta school and says bye Janey and see ya laters Jake and catch you on the flipside Dirk. She waits until they are out of sight and turns down an alleyway.
“Your friends are cute,” says the girl waiting there, leaning boneless on the wall and smoking a cigarette.
“My friends are mine,” says Roxy, “and if you know what’s good for you you’ll stay away.”
“Touchy,” says the girl. “From you, or from them? Cos that blonde one, hot damn. I wouldn’t mind going for a dive in his lake, if you know what I mean.”
“Fuck you,” says Roxy. “I know what you’re after."
The girl breathes smoke.
“Yeah,” she says slowly, thoughtfully. “Yeah, you know, this is nice. All my cards on the table and shit. I like you.”
“You’re a witch,” says Roxy, “and if you don’t stay away from Jane I’ll break your face.”
“I do what I want.”
“Not anymore.”
A month ago, when school started, Roxy was alarmed to find that the TA in Jane’s Culinary II class, a tall lanky girl with a sharp grin and sharper hipbones, was a girl best known for directing the activity of one of the local gangs.
Jane had laughed when Roxy tried to tell her; asked where do you come up with this nonsense.
Roxy spotted them walking out of class, Jane matching the girl’s step, a soft smile and a toothy grin, probably talking about cupcakes. The girl had winked at Roxy and made a show of trailing her fingers along Jane’s arm when saying goodbye.
I don’t like her, Roxy had said, and Jane wanted to know why, she seems like a lovely young lady.
Roxy didn’t answer.
In the alleyway, the girl says, “Is it really that big of a deal? Not like she digs you anyway.”
Roxy stiffens.
“It’s not about that.”
“You sure?” The girl looks at Roxy over her glasses in mock concern. “Seems to me you got it pretty bad. Seems to me that you’re a little more riled up than any good friend has the right to be.”
Roxy says, “Leave Jane alone.”
The girl flicks her cigarette to the ground and crushes it under a combat boot.
“I don’t wanna fight you, kid,” she says. “How about you just go home?”
“How about you never ever look at Jane again or else I’ll hold your stupid eyeballs open and burn them with your own god damn cigarette?”
The girl’s eyes widen. She grins.
“Damn, you really want your ass kicked.”
“If you agree to stay away from Jane,” says Roxy, “then maybe the paramedics won’t have to scrape your organs up off the ground.” She licks her teeth.
The girl is quiet.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she says eventually, pushing off the wall.
“I’m listening,” says Roxy, wary.
“How’s this: I leave your friend alone, la-di-fucking-da, everyone’s happy, all is good in the neighborhood. But,” says the girl, holding up a finger, “in return, you get to be my bitch.”
She curls her fingers into a gun and pretends to shoot Roxy in the heart.
"Bang."
Roxy thinks about it.
Roxy says “okay.”
Her name is Meenah.
Roxy learns that kissing isn’t just clumsily kissing Dirk when they're both tired and it's midnight and they've just finished watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.
It’s someone sucking her tongue into their mouth and not letting go until she makes a noise in the back of her throat and her fingers curl against the bottom of their shirt and slide up, palms catching on callouses and across ribs and the knotted feel of scars.
It’s not like in her books or her fanfiction.
Meenah’s mouth doesn’t taste like cinnamon or strawberries. It’s slimy and thick and hot and jesus christ she wants to push Jane up against the counter in the girl’s bathroom, she wants to pull the sounds out of her throat and play them on the violin, she wants Jane to wrap her legs around her while she—
Meenah sits back and grins. “Fast learner,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It's Friday, and Jane walks out of Culinary class alone.
Roxy joins her and does not miss the look that Meenah gives her from across the hallway, eyes moving right past Roxy and onto Jane.
Meenah slides her hands up Roxy's thighs and pushes them apart.
"How'd I do today, huh?" she asks. "Think I did a damn good job of staying away. Sure as hell wasn't easy."
Roxy doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything, just looks away.
"Hey," says Meenah, "bitch, when I'm talking to you, you better fucking answer." She digs her nails into the inside of Roxy's thighs, hisses, "look at me."
Roxy rolls her eyes and looks.
"You need to chill," she says. "Bet the doctors piss themselves when they see your blood pressure, like woah, she needs to lay off the red meat, needs to start popping Cheerios like prescription pills." She remembers too late that Cheerios are for cholesterol and thanks God that Dirk isn't here, isn't watching, isn't going to correct her.
Meenah grins.
It's Saturday and she's eating breakfast.
"Darling," her mother says, lips quirking against a tea cup, "you've been getting into my make-up again."
Roxy freezes. This does not mean what it sounds like. 'Make-up' could be a euphemism, or a sneaky lead into another conversation, or a test.
"Yeah," says Roxy, "yeah, ran outta British Red."
Her mother sets the cup down.
"A word of advice," she says, smooth mouth and smooth words so unlike Roxy's own, "whilst hiding hickeys, one tends to use a shade of cover-up matching one's skin."
Roxy slaps a hand to her neck.
Her mother stands up, takes her book and leaves the tea.
"Good night," she says, smiling as she passes. "Best of luck."
It's Monday and Meenah is stretching, shirt pushed up to her ribs, fingers pulling at Roxy's shoulders. Roxy's biting her lip, not looking at Meenah's heavy lidded eyes or slow grin or listening to her "yeah"s or feeling her hips rise to meet Roxy's fingers.
"God," Meenah says, licking her lips. "You're hot."
Jane, Roxy thinks, would not say this. Jane would be stroking her hair and breathing shaky little breaths and smiling and asking if she wanted to go get something to eat after this.
"Pick up the god damn pace, will you?" says Meenah. "I'm falling asleep here."
She sits on the curb with Dirk as twilight falls, him smoking and her fiddling with her shoelaces.
She watches the smoke curl out of his mouth and into her hair, watches the curve of his throat and the bump of his knuckles and the way his legs fold. Most nights she likes the smell of smoke, but tonight it is acrid and reminds her of heavy breathing and the way Meenah's mouth moves behind her ear.
"I hate this fucking town," she says.
"I know."
She considers telling him.
In fifteen seconds Roxy knows that the only possible endings are Dirk in juvie, Dirk expelled, Dirk bleeding out onto the concrete--
"My head hurts," she says, standing up, knees popping. Dirk nods, not looking up.
"Want me to walk you home?" he asks.
"Nah," says Roxy. "Thanks anyway."
Her mother is gone by the time she gets back. Roxy sits on the couch with her head in her hands.
The phone rings. She gets up to go and get it but somehow finds herself in front of her mother's liquor cabinet.
The phone rings again. She hesitates.
The phone rings one more time and she is picking the lock with a hairpin.
It's Wednesday and her knuckle is jammed in her mouth.
"Shit," she says. Meenah does not respond except to twist her finger deeper and flick her tongue, piercing winking in the low light.
Roxy thinks of Jane and shakes and says her name, broken and soft.
She ignores the smug look on Meenah's face as she pulls her shirt back on.
It's Thursday and she can't quite meet Jane's eyes.
They fuck on a table, scattering papers as Roxy tries to forget.
Afterwards Meenah pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers one to Roxy. Roxy takes it.
It's Friday and she says goodbye to everyone and starts walking her usual route.
Dirk follows.
She turns around and says, "What's up?"
"Followed you yesterday," he says. "Thought you should know."
She laughs.
"Ditched you at the crossroads," she says.
"Did you?" he says. They stare at each other for a moment.
"Fuck you," she says.
"Why are you doing this?" he asks.
"None of your god damn business."
"Huh," he says. "None of my business if you fuck dangerous strangers, none of my business if you lie about where you go after school to your mother, and it's certainly none of my business if you get absolutely reeling drunk and wander the streets at night."
"Shut your goddamn mouth," she says. "You don't understand anything."
"No," he says. "You're right. I don't."
She goes straight home and straight to the liquor cabinet and straight to bed. The phone rings.
"H'lo," she says.
"Hello," says Jane.
"Oh," she says, "'sup, Janey?"
"Um," says Jane, laughing nervously. "Not too much, I suppose--"
Roxy sits up.
"What's that noise in the background?"
"Nothing."
"Bull. Where are you?"
"I'm--" A sigh, crackly with static. "Roxy, I am so, so sorry."
"What?"
"She told me to call you and tell you where I was."
In a moment Roxy is out of bed, pulling her shoes on.
"Where are you?"
"The school," Jane says. "The Culinary classroom. Roxy, this isn't your fault, I don't--"
Roxy hangs up.
Roxy slams open the door.
"I don't appreciate being ignored," says Meenah, leaning on the wall, tense and tight. Jane is on the floor, eyes closed. "Where the hell were you?"
"I was busy," says Roxy. "The deal was you stayed away from Jane."
"And you broke your side of the deal," says Meenah. "And now I'm gonna fuck her while you watch."
Roxy lunges and punches her in the jaw.
Meenah staggers, then digs her fingers into Roxy's head and smashes it into the wall, kicks her in the stomach, throws her to the floor. Roxy gets up.
"I told you to stay away from her," says Roxy, head throbbing. Meenah grins like it hurts.
"Couldn't resist."
Roxy breaks her nose with a satisfying CRUNCH.
Roxy pulls Jane onto her back and walks to Dirk's house.
He answers the door half-dressed, eyes heavy with sleep.
"What happened?" he asks.
"I fucked up," says Roxy.
Dirk lays Jane on the couch and checks her while Roxy lingers in the doorway.
"She's fine," says Dirk, standing up. "Give her a few minutes."
Roxy slumps against the wall and he leads her to the bathroom, smooths her hair back from her forehead and dabs at the blood with a washcloth.
"Why didn't you come get me?" he asks.
"Stop it," she says, closing her eyes. "It's not fair if you feel guilty and awful too. Both of us can't be feeling guilty and awful or we'll start crying and never ever stop."
Instead of replying, he checks her ribs.
It's Saturday and she wakes up in Dirk's bed, Jane sleeping quietly at her side.
There are voices downstairs.
"--bleeding awful thing to do," Jake is saying. "You should have given me a ring."
"So you could, what, come over and panic? No thanks. I prefer my medical attention to not be jeopardized by anxious hovering boyfriends."
"She's not my girlfriend," Jake says. "Ah. Morning, Roxy."
Roxy gives him a nod and walks past them into the kitchen.
"You're half-naked," she says to Dirk, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Jake and Dirk both flinch as if just noticing the fact. "Jane's still sleeping, by the way."
Jake coughs.
"I ought to--"
"No," says Dirk. "Stay."
He stays.
Jane wakes up and Roxy is there with a glass of water and a bunch of flowers.
"I brought you flowers," Roxy says. "They kind of suck."
Jane sighs. "You're an idiot," she says.
"Yeah."
"I'm an idiot," she says.
"No," says Roxy.
"Yes," says Jane.
"No times infinity," says Roxy. Jane smiles and closes her eyes.
"I'm so glad you're okay," says Roxy, and brings a hand up to cover her mouth as she hiccups with a sort of sob.
"I am so furious at you," Jane murmurs. "But for now, I'm going to hug you and go back to sleep."
"Okay," says Roxy.
Jane hugs her, buries her face into the crook of Roxy's neck and squeezes her tight.
"Janey," says Roxy. "I'm sorry."
"Shh," says Jane.
They fall asleep curled around each other, hands around soft waists and fingers entertwined.
Roxy does not dream.