Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

may 29th - june 1st, 1997

wiskayok, nj

The Yellowjackets never made it to Nationals at the end of their senior year, but not for the reason you might think. 

If you ask Jackie, she’ll tell you that it’s all Shauna’s fault. Most of the team would agree with that assessment. But like any group, there are dissenting opinions. A few of them blame Jackie. The truth is, the blame should be shared between them. 

The story starts where it usually does: with Shauna being audacious enough to fuck Jackie’s boyfriend, not once, but twice. 

It isn’t really the physical act that hurts her so much, so much as what it represents. The statement Shauna was trying to make. 

Tragic. Boring. Insecure.

That’s what Shauna thought of her. 

It was literally the worst day of Jackie’s life. She wasn’t being dramatic by saying that, because she genuinely did not think she had ever been so upset in her life.  

The details of Implosion Day, as she not-so-affectionately refers to it as, remain sharp in her memory, iridescent and technicolor. She still hears the bang of Taissa’s locker door slamming shut, still sees the bag of greasy fast food left on the bench by one of the JV players, and still smells Lottie’s sunflower perfume, the way her hair swung by as she walked by Jackie, hands outstretched to grab for Natalie. Lottie, specifically, stuck out to Jackie, because she blocked her view of Shauna for a single, dragging heartbeat.

It was Game Day—and a big one, at that. States! One last game standing between them and an undefeated season, a shot at Nationals. 

No one seemed to notice the violent energy radiating off of Jackie’s skin, feverish and hot enough to light every person in the room aflame. 

This is the moment Jackie lingers on for the next year. It’s one of those liminal memories; a fork in the road that was only visible with the help of passing time. 

What compelled Jackie to decide to do it right there? It couldn’t just be anger. That’s not enough to justify the reckless fury that she allowed to snake beneath her skin like a parasite. It was so public. She still regrets it. One day, Jackie will grow up and learn to accept the past. She’ll make peace with the choices she made, knowing they’re as much a part of her as the scars on her knees, the color of her eyes. But Jackie’s at the beginning of it all. And it still fucking hurts. 

(Why, why, why…) 

Could she have avoided it? In Jackie’s fantasies, she waits until they make it back home, high on the rush of their victory. Shauna pulls the blankets over their heads, sheltering Jackie in a cocoon of body heat and shared oxygen. Jackie asks her, whispering, “Why? Why did you do it?” 

Were they always destined to end like this?

There had to be more to the story than mere betrayal. It wasn’t enough. Anger didn’t heat Jackie’s blood to a boil like it did Shauna. It made her go cold. Jackie played mind games and wielded passive aggression like a soldier’s gun. She didn’t explode. Her tongue wasn’t suited to spitting fire and hate. That was Shauna’s domain. 

Jackie’s mother raised her to be more self-contained than that. To keep her shit together, if you will—at least while she was in public, anyway. 

So, you see, right? There had to be something else at play. Jackie’s never been able to put her finger on it, but whatever it was, it made for the perfect disaster. 

She sucks in a ragged breath, unable to believe that her rage has still gone undetected. Her chest heaves with adrenaline, and Jackie’s mouth goes dry. The rest of the team flickers around the room, oblivious. Unable to help herself, Jackie looks for Shauna. 

This locker room is unfamiliar, but Shauna sits in front of the same locker that she would have if they were at their own school. She straddles the end of the bench near the back wall, bent over to get a better grip on the stubborn heel of her cleats. Her hair is up in a ponytail—it’s fucking adorable , and it makes Jackie sick. 

Navigating the world like Jackie does requires a certain finesse. The careful coordination of every little detail of her life has made Jackie a veteran at commanding the room. She’s at ease with a captive audience, lazy with her smile and sharp with her tone, comfortable. It really showed that day. 

“Hey, everybody!” Jackie clapped her hands, showing her teeth as she faced the room with a feral grin. “I have an announcement.” 

Now they seem to notice something is different. 

Someone whispers, but Jackie doesn’t check who. Her eyes stay frozen on Shauna, watching with something like hate, and something like painful love, as she turns to face Jackie. Wide brown eyes come to meet Jackie’s stare. Shauna’s gaze used to make Jackie feel as warm as a baby’s blankets. Now it just makes her furious. The moment of connection is a jolt to Jackie’s system, and she starts again with a vengeance. 

“Shauna, I just want to start by saying that I’ve never had a best friend like you.” Her cheeks hurt with the force of her simpering smile. “How long have we known each other now? Ten years? Eleven?” 

“Uh, Jackie…” Shauna frowns, glancing around at the others, clearly confused about what Jackie’s getting at here. “What’s going on?” 

She plows forward like Shauna never spoke at all. 

“It’s been a long time, to cut to the chase. I mean—we share everything, right?” Jackie gestures around the room, “Friends, sports, clothes… isn’t that right?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“So, I guess I can’t be too mad at you, right?” 

Natalie Scatorccio speaks up from Jackie’s left. “Uh, Jackie? What the hell is going on?” 

Jackie looks at Nat and flashes her wild grin. “Don’t worry, I’m getting there.” She jerks her gaze back to Shauna. “Did you do it, Shauna?” 

There. Finally. Shauna’s mouth falls open. Jackie’s grin widens into a full-blown sneer. (She knows I know.) Jackie might not have known Shauna as well as she thought, but she knows that face. That nervous, infuriating, beautiful face. Hatred blooms. Jackie burns. 

“I—Jackie—what are you doing—” 

“So that’s the strategy you’re going for?” Jackie crosses her arms over her chest and laughs, bitter and sardonic. “You want to play stupid, then?” 

“Alright, Jackie, enough of this bullshit.” Nat snaps, pushing off of the lockers to stand in the center of the room. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

Jackie doesn’t look away from Shauna. Tears well up, pooling along the line of her eye and starting a path down to her chin. But her rage never wavers. Jackie points her finger at Shauna. Her hand shakes. 

“How could you? Jeff, really?” 

“Jackie, please, can we—” 

“You had sex with him, Shauna!” Jackie flings the words like an animal throwing shit from a sad little cage. “You fucked my boyfriend!” 

A collective gasp ripples through the locker room. Distantly, as if she’s hearing it from underneath the water, Mari’s voice reaches her ear. “Oh, shit…” 

Shauna’s mouth hangs open, letting out no sound save for the beginnings of a broken sputter. She stares dumbly at Jackie, gripping the edge of the bench until her knuckles go white.

“Close your fucking mouth, Shauna, if you have nothing to say for yourself.”

The spite in her voice must break through Shauna’s frozen shock. Her jaw clamps shut, goes stiff and tight, but she doesn’t look away, bold enough to keep eye contact. Well, Jackie sure as hell won’t be the first one to give in. 

“Jackie, maybe we should—” 

“Stay out of this, Van.” Jackie snaps, holding her stare. 

It feels like there’s a wormhole between them, connecting at the iris of their eyes, a cosmic gate to the other’s emotions. Shauna’s panic infects her, leaves her trembling, shaking as it mixes with her hurt, her disgust. 

She takes a step forward. 

“Hey.” Taissa wraps a hand around Jackie’s left bicep, holding her back. “I know you’re upset, but maybe we should calm down for a second, and try to—” 

Jackie yanks her arm free, refusing to be deterred. It’s none of Taissa’s damn business who Jackie yells at, especially if she’s yelling at Shauna. 

“Don’t fucking touch me, Taissa.” Jackie’s voice is wet with vicious, choking spit. 

For a moment, Taissa seems like she’s going to argue, but when Van wraps a hand around her elbow and tugs her back, Taissa retreats without pushback. 

She barrels forward before anyone tries to stop her. It’s at this moment Shauna seems to find herself again. Jackie can sense the change in energy like it’s the impending arrival of bad weather, and she’s someone’s previously broken bone. Shauna jerks her chin up, and follows Jackie’s march with a steely glint in her eyes. 

“You fucked him, Shauna.” 

They’ve always been like magnets—Jackie and Shauna—two separate, individual beings destined to slot together, regardless of if they want to, no matter if it’s good for them or not. But that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it? 

Because Jackie did… does —want it. She always has. It used to make her happy, knowing that someone in this world belonged to her. Jackie loved Shauna, their friendship, their upcoming future, and every second they’d spent together. How could she have had it so wrong? It’s like… Shauna is the North Pole, and Jackie’s some sad little compass, afflicted with delusions of her own importance. 

Shauna tries again. “Can we go somewhere private to talk about this, Jackie? Everyone is—”

She’s close enough to touch her, and Jackie doesn’t hesitate. Jackie twists her fingers into the blue mesh of Shauna’s jersey and yanks. Shauna comes up without a fight, rising to her feet and standing so close that Jackie can feel the warm blow of her breath. 

Jackie grabs at the fabric tighter and Shauna inhales sharply. She feels the stutter in cadence, an absence of air on her skin for a single second. 

“Can’t you just admit it?” Her eyes dig into Shauna’s, trying to unearth the secrets hidden behind the dark brown exterior. “Please?” 

“I—this isn’t how I wanted to do this… Jackie, come on, not here—” 

She shoves her away, taking satisfaction in how Shauna stumbles against the wall behind her. Voices rise behind Jackie: Taissa yelling for someone to intervene, and Natalie calling for Jackie to stop. 

Shauna puts a hand up, looking over Jackie’s shoulder at someone approaching. “It’s alright.” 

Her face crumples, and the wall comes tumbling down. Jackie’s crying for real, vision blurred by hot, heavy tears. “Damn it, Shauna, just admit it! You—you slept with him, and you can’t even say it. You’re such a coward.”  

Jackie lunges forward. Her fingers tangle again in the fabric. Shauna lets her do it and even catches her before she trips over herself. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jackie.” And now they’re both crying. “I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.” She whispers, lip wobbling, nose already stuffing up. “I know you did.” 

“I didn’t.” Shauna insists, wrapping her hands around Jackie’s wrists and looking between her eyes. “I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have. I would take it back if I could. I don’t know why—” 

“That’s bullshit. You’re still lying to me right the fuck now! You did want to hurt me. I read it myself.” 

“You… read it?” Shauna repeats, eyebrows knitting together as she attempts to process that statement. “Did you read my fucking journal?” 

“Yes. I did.” 

The change in Shauna’s expression is dark, showing a shadow Jackie’s never seen before. She slides her hands up Jackie’s wrists and tries to peel Jackie’s fingers away from her jersey. She jerks away from Shauna like her touch is the pour of boiling water.

The fuse lights in Shauna’s eyes. Jackie watches it like a plummeting bomb, waiting and waiting and waiting, until the spark catches and rattles through Shauna’s frame, curling her hands into fists and tightening her jaw into something mean and stiff. 

“I can’t believe you,” She spits. 

Jackie rolls her eyes. “Oh, and now I’m the bad guy? You—”

“Fuck, yes, I did it!” Shauna explodes before Jackie’s eyes in a morbid burst of fireworks. “I slept with Jeff!” 

“But why, Shauna?” Jackie cries, pressing a hand to her mouth to prevent a sob from escaping her mouth. “Why would you do that to me?” 

Can you imagine how the rest goes? Not well, to say the least. 

Jackie demanded the truth, and Shauna finally gave it to her. 

Shauna did it because she wanted to hurt Jackie. She doesn’t like Jeff, not really, seemingly surprised at the implication that she might. Shauna fucked him because she could—because he belonged to Jackie, and Shauna did too, but she didn’t want to anymore. 

Tragic, boring, and insecure. Shauna was so sure of herself as she slapped the words into Jackie’s face. Each one feels like a punch. 

High school is the best your life is ever gonna be.

They lose at State. Goodbye undefeated season, and see you never, Nationals.

So, what do you think? Was it Jackie’s fault? Shauna’s? Does it even matter? 

What might have happened if Jackie made a different choice? She doesn’t know, and she never will. The idea churns in her head later that night, when she cries herself to sleep. Could things have been different? It continues to torment her for the rest of that miserable summer. It haunts her that entire first year of college. 

Shauna’s right, in the end. High was the best her life was ever going to be.

Jackie’s freshman year of college comes, and then it goes. May rolls around, and Jackie is the most miserable she’s ever been. Her parents pick her up from Rutgers and help her move out of her dorm. Jackie listens to her mom chatter, and criticize, and complain for the entire ride back to Wiskayok. 

Here comes summer.

“Don’t forget to take off your shoes.” Her mom calls from up the hall, using that sing-song voice that makes Jackie want to scream. She acts like Jackie’s been gone for years, and not months. 

“I won’t!” Jackie shouts back, resisting the urge to return fire with some snarky and mean. It isn’t worth the inevitable fallout.

She kicks her Keds off of her feet and watches them clatter against the wall with the others, taking a moment to gaze around the hallway. It looks the same as it did back in January. Stiff, immaculate, and chilly with a cold that has nothing to do with the actual temperature. She already wants to go back to Rutgers. 

This year may have been the loneliest she’s ever had, but at least she’d been free of her parents. Sure, there is still social criticism she has to wade through. Jackie is in a sorority, famously known for its cutthroat feminine politics. But Jackie trained her entire life to navigate that environment, and the other girls were nothing compared to her mother. 

Jackie drifts into the kitchen, pulling a suitcase behind her. 

The room is spotless. That is to be expected. It’s Thursday, which means the cleaning lady would have come by the day before. The only evidence that people even live here is a single empty coffee mug sitting by the side. (#1 Boss!) Her mother is sitting at the breakfast table, and Jackie feels her stare like it’s a physical touch. 

“Where did you get that sweater?” Cindy Taylor asks, squinting her eyes.

Here we go… 

Jackie looks down and sees nothing special. (Which—that’s probably the issue.) Just a nondescript, navy blue long sleeve. She’s pretty sure it doesn’t even belong to her. It could be Van’s. Or one of the girls in her sorority. She picked it because it’s comfortable. But it’s not really about what Jackie’s wearing, and she knows that. It’s about reestablishing their dynamic. They’ve got to fit themselves back into their expected mold for this two-month return to normal. 

“It might belong to my roommate? I don’t remember. I threw it on without thinking.” 

Cindy sniffs. “Hm, well, okay.” 

Jackie’s fingers tighten around the handle of her suitcase. She takes a breath and plans her escape. “I’m, uh, going to head up to my room. Get settled in for the night, and all that.” 

“Let’s go shopping soon, just the two of us.” Her mom smiles, like she expects Jackie to jump for joy. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

It doesn’t, but Jackie knows what’s expected of her, and nods anyway. “Sure. We can go shopping. That sounds fun.” 

“You always dressed so cute in high school…” her mom says wistfully, shaking her head like she’s about to hit Jackie with a profound bit of advice. “It’s even more important to look your best in college, you know. So much of your life will be decided in the next three years, and you only get one chance to get it right.”

She tugs on the ends of her sleeve, pulling it over her knuckles and pinching it between her palm. “Yeah, I know.”

It’s like she’s being picked apart underneath a microscope. Jackie’s a twitching, squirming bug in the spotlight of her mother’s critical gaze. Narrow eyes stab into her thorax. Backhanded compliments dig into her abdomen. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should. Too familiar, she supposes. 

( The audience—Jackie—is tired of your material, Cindy. Do better.)

“Will you be home for dinner tonight? I figured you would want to see your friends, but I can whip you up a salad if you get hungry.” 

“No, I won’t be here. I’ve got plans.” She doesn’t—not yet. She’ll fix that as soon as she gets upstairs. 

“Alright, then.” 

The dismissal is a relief. Jackie leaves the way she came, yanking on her suitcase and dancing her fingers up the bannister’s slope. 

Her bedroom, much like the rest of the house, is entirely untouched, looking exactly as she left it, even down to the half-empty tube of chapstick on her vanity that she forgot to put back in her purse on New Year’s Eve.

Jackie’s suitcase tumbles to the floor. She ignores it and flops backwards onto her bed. 

“Home sweet home.” She whispers, staring blankly up at the ceiling. 

When she turns to grab for the phone receiver next to her bed, she spots a familiar picture frame. She replaced the old photo with a new subject. Shauna’s brown eyes don’t greet her anymore, replaced with Van’s bright smile. Her heart clenches, but the ache is routine, and easy to ignore. 

There is no way that she’s staying to have dinner with her parents. Jackie leans over further and starts to dial.

“So…” Jackie’s smile is mischievous. “How are you and Tai doing? I bet you’re happy to be back in the same zip code.”

“Uh—” Van scrunches up their face and parts the sea of red ketchup cutting along their plate. “I mean, it’s definitely amazing to have her so close by again. And we get to spend the entire summer together, so of course I’m happy about that.” 

Jackie senses uncertainty dangling on the end of that sentence, sees it threading through the stitching behind Van’s words. She pounces on it immediately. 

“But?”

“What do you mean, but? Why does there have to be a but?”

Van frowns at her from across the booth. A limp fry hangs from between their fingertips, red-stained, and waving. Jackie thinks it’s supposed to seem disapproving, but Van’s a serially unserious person, and she knows better. 

“There doesn’t have to be a but.” She raises an eyebrow and reaches for her Sprite. “It just sounded like you were getting ready for one. That’s all.”

They stare at each other, and Jackie spends the entire time trying not to burst into giggles. The corners of her lips twitch, struggling to form a smile against Jackie’s will. This little game between them is so familiar that she’s surprised she hasn’t nailed it down. But Van is among those people who make it impossible to maintain a neutral face. 

Luckily, Van breaks first. They press their lips together in a thin line. It’s a last ditch effort to hold back laughter, and it fails. A giggle slips free, startling them both, and making Jackie snort. She nearly drops her drink into her lap. 

That only makes Van laugh even harder, which knocks over the final domino. Jackie devolves into a matching round of giggles. It’s a solid minute before they calm down enough to return to their dinner. 

Van dabs at the corner of their eye with a folded paper napkin. “Alright. There was a but coming. Ugh, I hate it when you’re right.” 

Jackie smirks. “Sorry, it’s my superpower.”

“Being right? That’s a pretty shitty superpower, if you ask me.” 

“Well, I didn’t, for your information. Anyway, I don’t get to choose it. That’s, like, against the rules. How many superheroes do you know that got to choose their power?” She shakes her head at Van, already sensing their reply. “And it can’t be one of the super rich ones that has enough money for fancy gadgets. That isn’t a superpower.”

“Ha, you caught me. I was just about to say Batman.” 

“I fucking knew it. See, don’t I know you so well? Anyway, if I could choose, I’d pick being able to see auras.” 

“Auras, really? You can’t even defend yourself with that power, let alone fight.” 

“Who says that I want to fight?” 

The idea is preposterous. She’s never been able to picture herself in an actual physical fight. Her best friend in the entire fucking world slept with her boyfriend, and even then, Jackie kept her hands to herself. Mostly. What could even make her mad enough if that didn’t even do it? 

Van rolls their eyes. “It’s implied in the hero part of superhero.” 

“Okay, then. That’s fine. I can still have powers, though. I’ll just be a super person , then. I’m perfectly fine not being a hero.”

Van drops another fry into their mouth, chewing thoughtfully and turning their head to gaze out the window. Jackie takes another bite of her McChicken and they sit in silence for a few seconds. 

Finally, Van turns back to Jackie, and nods decisively. “I would pick being able to talk to animals.” 

“Oooh, that’s a good one. Only—we were talking about something, right?” Jackie grins, rerouting the conversation back to the start. “Something about a but coming. Your but, wasn’t it? Let’s get back to that.”

“You want to get back to my butt?” Van gasps, putting a hand over their heart. “Jackie, that is so inappropriate.” 

She laughs and flings a french fry across the table. “Oh my god, shut up and answer my question already.” 

“Fine, fine—” The french fry hits Van directly in the forehead. Jackie tries not to laugh as they wipe away salt from their forehead, but she receives only a dirty look for her efforts. “Things are good with us. Fantastic, actually. But, also… it sucks to have to go back into the closet with her, you know?”

Taissa is only out at college; a fact that she and Van have discussed at least a thousand times in the last year. 

“So she’s told no one in her family?”

“No— not even her brother.” Van grabs their empty soda cup and rattles the ice melting slowly at the bottom. “And like, I don’t even blame her. She’s scared. I get that. But then—sometimes… it’s like I do blame her, because her parents love her. Like really love her, how they’re supposed to. I don’t think they’re going to react badly. Plus, they love me.” 

“Yeah, but who doesn’t love you?” Jackie says, her tone gushy with fondness. 

Van goes to Rutgers with Jackie, her one silver lining. A lot of their senior class does, unfortunately. Jackie’s made an Olympic sport of avoiding Jeff when her sorority goes to mingle with his fraternity.

(And perhaps that’s a part of why Jackie is having such a hard time. It’s like—high school was over for three straight months, only to start up again with the same supporting cast, but now with lasting consequences and a price tag of thousands of dollars.) 

As bad as she’s felt all year, Jackie knows it would have been a million times worse without Van. 

It was awkward at first. They weren’t exactly the best friends in high school. They were friendly , but that was different. It meant that it came easy to say hello when they saw each other in the hallway. During one of the many parties over the years, Jackie remembers tapping her shot glass against Van’s, yelling out cheers, and posing in front of Laura Lee’s camera. 

The years spent on the field had built enough of a connection between them. It would have been disingenuous to call Van anything other than a friend. 

But that only went so far, they quickly learned. They’d never hung out alone. Jackie didn’t have Van’s number memorized, and the idea of doing nothing together but enjoying each other’s company for an entire day made her feel unsettled and awkward. 

Back then, Jackie only did those things with Shauna. 

Now, she only does them with Van.

It’s the only thing about this year that she can truthfully say she’s grateful for. 

“Your parents definitely don’t love me, for one.” Van laughs. “Do you remember move-in day—last August?” 

Ugh, yes. The memory still makes her flush with embarrassment when it deigns to cross her mind. 

Jackie was standing with her parents in the parking lot across from her dorm, saying goodbye, when Van came walking up, looking as unsure about spending time with Jackie as she was with them. 

Her mom had taken one look at Van and soured immediately, going pinched and puckered at the mouth. 

“Make good choices.” She whispered in Jackie’s ear. It was so ominous and oddly pointed that even now, a year later, it makes the hairs on her neck rise in discomfort. 

“My parents hardly count, but touché. Not everyone loves you.” Jackie wrinkles her nose, takes another sip of Sprite. “But who knows? Taissa could finally get the balls to do it this summer. You never know.” 

“I hope so.” Van shrugs. They finish the last of their burger and crumple the wrapper into a fist-sized ball. “What about you and yours?” 

Jackie stares at her blankly. “Mine and my what?”

Van rolls their eyes and looks at Jackie like she’s an idiot. “You and your girlfriend, stupid. Have you seen Shauna at all, since you’ve been back?” 

The joke makes Jackie go brittle, suddenly annoyed with the turn of conversation. “Stop that.” She lets her McChicken fall back onto its wrapper, where it lands in a wheaty plop. 

“I’m only teasing you.” Van looks at the fallen sandwich, and then back up to Jackie, cautious now. “Y’know… the way I always do.” 

“Don’t, alright?” She purses her lips together. “It doesn’t feel the same when we’re back here.”

Everything in this stupid small town reminds Jackie of Shauna. She doesn’t need the added help. Even the streetlights poke at her memory, making the roads look dusky green and sticky, making Jackie think of humid summer nights spent riding her bikes through back roads and suburban streets, chasing the wave of Shauna’s laughter. 

It feels like there’s no place left for Jackie in the world. Rutgers doesn’t belong to her, not in any actual definition of the word, and not even after a year of living there. It’s borrowed like a coat from her mother’s closet. Fitting enough for a night, but not really her size or style. It’s the same with the sorority. She wonders: will next year be better or worse when she’s living with her sisters underneath the watchful eyes of Greek letters? 

Jackie doesn’t have the highest of hopes. 

“I won’t do it again.” Van assures, looking Jackie in the eye. “But seriously. Are you going to talk to her this summer?” 

“Absolutely not. Why would I?” 

If Shauna wished to talk to Jackie, then she would have by now. She’s not impossible to find. In fact—she’s downright predictable. Jackie is always exactly where she’s supposed to be. At Rutgers, in her sorority, and now back here in Wiskayok again. She’s like a collector’s doll, safe and pretty, cherished so long as she remains in the confines of her box.

(Best to stay inside lest she lower her value, right? It’s for her own good.)

Van crosses their arms and leans back against the booth. “You don’t have to. No one is going to force you, but… I don’t know—you guys never actually talked about anything.”

“Uh, yeah we did? Like three separate times and everything.” 

“That wasn’t talking. That was screaming.”

Jackie breaks their eye contact and stares down at her food. Van isn’t wrong about that, but she doesn’t think it could have gone any other way. She plays it silly. 

“Screaming is talking. It’s just louder.” 

“Oh, okay, Miss Pedantic.” Van shakes their head. “I’m just saying it could be a good thing. Maybe you’ll get some closure. It could be good for you.”

“Yeah, it could. But it won’t, because it isn’t happening.” She hears the whine twisting the pitch of her voice, yanking it upwards. Talking about Shauna always makes Jackie get childish; like a walking, talking, regression. “But, you know, honestly, fuck Shauna. The last thing I want to do is talk to her.” 

Van barks out a sudden laugh and slaps their palms against the linoleum tabletop. “Ooh. I’ve got a devil’s bargain for you. Want to hear?” 

Jackie narrows her eyes, doubtful that she’ll be happy with where this is going. But she nods anyway. 

“Okay. Imagine you’re stuck in a room for twenty-four hours. You’ve got food and water, a restroom and a place to sit. But there are no windows, no anything. Who are you spending it with, Jeff or Shauna?” 

She chokes on her Sprite, hands flying up on instinct to cover her mouth before she spews it all over the table in a rain of carbonated shock. 

“Uh, can I pick none of the above?” Jackie asks, after she gets ahold of herself again. 

“That’s a cop out.” Van boos at her and gives her a thumbs down. “You’re no fun.” 

“I’m sorry, but I am not answering that!”

“Because you know you’d pick Shauna. You just don’t want to admit it.” Van clicks their tongue, coy, and way too aware of Jackie’s inner thoughts. 

See, because again, they’re right. Jeff or Shauna? 

Jackie will always pick Shauna in the end, even when she hates her. Especially then. What kind of choice is that? Jeff is only a chapter, but Shauna is Jackie’s entire fucking book. 

This line of thought makes her stomach twist, aching in a way that has nothing to do with the McDonalds they’re eating. 

“Alright, I’m done with the Shauna talk. It’s ruining my appetite.”

“Oh, shut up and finish your sandwich already.”

Van’s busy at their summer job for the next two days, which leaves Jackie trapped alone at home. 

In a fit of desperation, Jackie calls Lottie’s house, trying to see if she wants to hang out, have a sleepover. (Which—they never used to have sleepovers before, but Jackie’s running out of pride, and asks anyway.)

Unfortunately, it turns out that Lottie isn’t even in the fucking country right now. 

Where was it that Mrs. Matthews said—Bosnia? Or was it Belgium? Belize? Jackie can’t remember, but she knows that it’s definitely not anywhere close. 

And with that discovery, Jackie’s summer prospects slip even further into the toilet. 

Under no circumstances does Jackie consider giving Taissa a call. Van might be Jackie’s new best friend, but that did not translate to their girlfriend. 

(“You and Shipman each got one of us in the divorce, if you think about it.” It’s a joke Van makes often. “Kind of like a parent trap situation, isn’t it? If you squint?”)

During Jackie’s two-day experiment in solitary confinement, Jackie’s mother knocks on her bedroom door to inform her that Jeff called earlier this morning, wanting to know if she had any time to talk. 

She never told Cindy what happened with Jeff and Shauna, and then Shauna and Jackie. At the time, she was more afraid that her mother would spend more time focusing on what the betrayal said about Jackie , rather than the guilty parties.

Luckily for her, her mom seems to have moved on from the likes of Jeff Sadecki. Jackie’s out of high school now, onto greener pastures, and more desirable men of a higher tax bracket. Cindy Taylor has higher hopes for her daughter than being the wife of a small town business owner. What is that compared to a surgeon’s spouse? A politician’s partner? 

For once, they’re both on the same page. 

“I’ll just tell him you’re busy.” 

“Thanks, Mom.”

Despite Jackie’s vehement protests back at the McDonalds, she does consider giving Shauna a call. She still remembers the phone number—doesn’t think she’ll ever forget it. It’s engraved on her mind like you would a dog’s collar. If lost, please call…

Jackie is lost, but she doesn’t call. 

Instead, she wallows for forty-eight hours. 

Yesterday was a valium day for Cindy. It gave Jackie the freedom to happily rot in bed underneath her mother’s nose, blissfully unseen by her cloudy gaze and hooded eyes. When Jackie was a little girl, it used to make her so upset to see her mom like that. Now, it brings relief. 

Today, unfortunately, is an activity day, as her mother calls it. Apparently, she’s been given the responsibility of planning this year’s 4th of July parade. The neighborhood throws one every year. They’re actually pretty fun, if she’s being honest. By the end of the night, the air is filled with the smell of hours-old sunscreen and smoky detonation. It’s sort of the perfect picture for nostalgia’s postcard, with the sparklers and fireworks and American flags waving from every porch. 

All this to say: Cindy is having company. 

She throws Jackie’s door open first thing in the morning and drags her downstairs to help with pulling out the good china. That gets her stuck in a few more hours worth of work. 

When she finally breaks away, Jackie knows better than to stick around any longer. The last thing she wants to spend her day doing is listening to her mother chat around the table with the five horsewomen of the local HOA. She tells her mom that she’s going to meet Van for lunch and runs upstairs to grab her purse. 

(Remember, Van isn’t available. That’s the whole reason she’s even here.) 

“Don’t eat anything with too much sugar!” Her mother opens the front door and yells at Jackie’s retreating back. “Remember, we’re supposed to go shopping soon!”

“No sugar, got it!” She yells back. 

Jackie continues down the sidewalk and decides that an ice cream cone would really hit the spot.

She lost a lot after learning about Shauna and Jeff. 

For one—her boyfriend. Not that she cared all that much about him. When it happened, Jackie had to actually remind herself to save a little rage for Jeff too. Not in some anti-feminist that slut came onto him kind of way, but more like: this guy is a fucking nobody . How could he have even gotten in the way? 

(Although, sometimes… When Jackie is in the privacy of her own mind, she lets herself get nasty, and mean. It would be a lie to say that the word slut and Shauna had never been paired together in her mind. She doesn’t mean it. Not really. But when she’s upset and angry, it feels good to think about it.)

Much more painfully, she also lost Shauna. And that was its own can of worms. Jackie didn’t (still doesn’t, truthfully) know how to exist without Shauna. Without her companionship, her reassurance, and her comfort. Everywhere Jackie goes, she finds herself looking for Shauna’s brown eyes. They’re like the sun and the moon, and all the other pair-themed metaphors. 

And if all that isn’t enough, she’s lost her confidence, her sense-of-self. Jeff and Shauna took a hammer to Jackie’s trust in her own perception. — What kind of moron doesn’t realize that the person they love the most has secretly hated them the entire time? Jackie Taylor, apparently. She’d never felt more like an idiot than she had that day in the locker room at States. 

Shauna made Jackie feel stupid sometimes, back then, but never did Jackie think it was on purpose. Now… she wonders—did Shauna enjoy it? Did it make her happy to see Jackie break down like that? Was she laughing afterwards, at Jackie’s public humiliation? Is she satisfied now that Jackie’s as miserable as she apparently used to be? 

(Did you follow all of that? Everything she’s lost? Jeff. Shauna. Confidence. Self-esteem. It’s a lot, isn’t it?) 

But somehow, in spite of all of that, what she’s most furious about (right now, in this moment) is knowing that if she wants to go anywhere, she’s got to go by foot, or bus. It was something she never thought to be grateful for during happier times. She’d forgotten how annoying it was trying to navigate Wiskayok without a car. 

There is a mile's distance between Jackie’s street and the center of town she’s trekking to. And now—because of Shauna, and Jackie’s stupid fucking mother, she’s got to go at it on foot. This ice cream cone better be delicious, is all she’ll say on that. 

Jackie crosses her arms over her chest and stomps her way down the street. A grassy summer’s breeze blows cool against her skin, and the low roar of a lawnmower in the distance makes her feel twelve years old. It’s a beautiful day outside. She’s really trying to stay miserable about this walk, but it’s more difficult now in the face of warm weather and suburban serenity. Jackie lifts her chin and stares. White cirrus clouds speckle against the blue sky like one of her mother’s doilies resting on their dining table. 

Everything feels like a sunset whisper of bygone days. Jackie hates being so wistful all of the time, but right now it’s pleasant, sun-kissed and warm. 

Of course, if you’re Jackie, then you know it’s impossible to reminisce without thinking of Shauna. That’s what makes being in Wiskayok so dangerous. 

Jackie presses her fingers against the golden heart clasped around her neck, and continues her walk, filled to the brim with bittersweet strings of memory that wrap around her ankles, threatening to tug her to the ground. 

Twenty minutes later, she makes it to the shop. 

Jackie thinks about the flavor she’s going to buy, pondering on which kind her mother would hate the most. Cindy won’t ever know about this, but Jackie still wants to get something rich and heavy, her own private spite.

The bell that hangs above the door to Central Scoops jingles a merry tune when Jackie slips inside. Behind the counter is an older woman that Jackie’s known for practically her entire life. She goes to church with Jackie’s parents. They make small talk at the counter—Jackie fields questions about college, and her love life, and what her parents have been up to. And then she’s putting two dollars on the counter, a third in the tip jar, and shoving the door back open to step outside again. 

Jackie brings her prize to her lips, tastes chocolate and peanut butter while she pulls a gummy bear off the scoop with a twist of her tongue. She’s standing along the main road, on the sidewalk in front of the shop, and between a bookstore and nail salon. 

She eyes the salon, surveying her nails and considering getting them redone. Her feet take her closer to the window so she can lean in and see her reflection. Now that she’s got a better view, she thinks that her eyebrows might be in need of a touch up too…

There’s cash in her wallet right now, but Jackie’s reluctant to use her own money. She probably ought to just wait until later, come back with her father’s credit card clutched in hand. Especially if she wants to get a full set. 

“Resist, Jackie, resist.” She tells herself, spinning the ice cream against her tongue. Jackie turns around, looking for a bench to sit on, when—

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

Jackie bolts like a possum, moving entirely on instinct as she bolts down the sidewalk. She twists around the corner, into the alleyway on the other side of the bookstore, and peeks around the corner to see if anyone noticed her escape. 

That’s definitely Shauna’s car parked on the other side of the street, in front of the pawn shop. Jackie’s not good with cars, but she knows a Ford Festiva when she sees one. And if nothing else, Jackie will always know this specific car. The passenger seat is probably still imprinted with the shape of Jackie’s ass cheeks. The floorboard is likely still stained with the red lipstick, a remnant of last Spring when Jackie accidentally dropped the tube on the floorboard only to stomp on it by mistake while trying to pick it up. 

God, she’s being ridiculous.

Why is Jackie the one running away? She didn’t even do anything wrong. Shauna should be the one ashamed to show her face. Shauna should be the one to run away. 

But no, it has to be Jackie, of course it does, because pathetic seems to be the recurring theme of her life this last year. 

She needs to get a fucking grip. 

Jackie peers around the corner again, eyes narrowed. In spite of the anxiety slowly pushing its way through her veins, Jackie’s excited. Shauna is nearby. Her skin buzzes hot with the knowledge. 

The ice cream cone in her hand doesn’t seem to matter much, despite all the trouble it took to get. She throws it to the side and it breaks on the ground with a crunch and a splat, making a chocolate graveyard for the discarded gummy bears.

Okay, so Shauna’s car is here… but where is Shauna?

Doing her best to act natural, Jackie meanders back onto the sidewalk. She’s so painfully aware of her own physicality right now, as if she’s operating on manual. Every breath requires thought, and each step must be slow and methodical, or she’ll fall on her face right now.

Jackie glances at the bookstore suspiciously. 

What’s her plan if they do see each other? Jackie’s first instinct is to ignore Shauna outright, to demonstrate with deceptive ease just how much Jackie doesn’t care. It’s a bald-faced lie. She doesn’t even bother trying to deceive herself over it. But if she can at least fool Shauna, that would be good enough. 

It’s been a year. Does Jackie really want to go one more without speaking? Even in all of her hatred, Shauna is still the most important person in Jackie’s life. Isn’t that sad? But what is there to say? 

All Jackie wants is an apology. A fucking explanation . Even a bad one would be better than nothing. If Shauna could just tell Jackie why she did it, then she could get over it, and they could move on together. 

Shauna has to know that. 

If she wanted to apologize, she would have already. Why didn’t she ever call? Why has she never shown up on Jackie’s doorstep? How could she not even say sorry? 

Jackie frowns, skull aching with old hurt and irritation stabbing at the brain. She wonders if this is how Jesus felt when they pulled the crown of thorns over his head. 

What does Van know, anyway? There’s no point in talking, and there’s no such thing as closure. Jackie gears herself up, preparing to jump in hot, to start another fight and release some of the steam building up a terrible pressure against her temples. 

Jackie waits, watching Shauna’s car, and grows more anxious by the minute. 

Her eyes keep darting back to the bookstore. It seems the most likely option, knowing Shauna. Jackie expects to see her step out into the sunlight any minute. She watches so intensely that she misses the action across the street. 

On the other side of the road, the door to the pawn shop opens. Shauna Shipman’s laughter floats over the air and grabs Jackie around her throat. Her knees lock in place. She chokes on her breath. How many days has it been since she’s heard that?  

Jackie follows the sound with her eyes. 

Ah. Fuck.

She stares. She can’t help herself. 

Shauna looks so fucking pretty. Jackie despises her for it, but still tries to drink in the details, wanting to memorize all these little changes in the few seconds she has available to her. 

Her hair is longer, and she’s wearing it styled in a way that Jackie’s never seen her do before—half up, half down. 

(Who taught her how to do that? Shauna never did anything experimental to her hair, not without being coaxed first. Someone in Shauna's life is nudging her into new experiences. A bomb explodes in her belly, coating Jackie’s gut with mean, green envy.)

She’s wearing more makeup than she used to. It’s darker, more dramatic around the eyes, but still restrained in effect. Jackie slows to a halt. Watching Shauna move is like picking a scab— satisfying, even as it scars her. 

These tiny changes drive her crazy. There’s new piercings lining the top of her ears, and Jackie is dying to know—when did she decide to do that? Jackie wants to pick Shauna apart and discover everything that she’s missed. Worse, even, are the little details that stayed the same. Jackie recognizes the silver hoop earrings she wears, and the dark green flannel wrapped around her waist is achingly familiar. 

During a particularly bad snowstorm a few years ago, Jackie slept in it. It went without question that she would be riding out the bad weather with Deb and Shauna on Willow’s Court, snug and safe indoors. It was a record breaking drop in temperature, but Jackie only remembers being warm. 

She tilts her head, watching Shauna, and thinks of hot chocolate.

Yeah… nevermind. Jackie doesn’t want to do this. What on earth was she thinking?

Whatever bravery Jackie had summoned through sheer force of will was gone, drained away in an instant, leaving her bumbling and scared all over again. She takes a step back.

It’s too much— this. Nope, no, she’s not doing it. There’s still time to get away. Shauna hasn’t noticed her yet, and it’s going to stay that way if she has anything to do about it. 

She turns around and leaves. As she hurries back down the sidewalk, back to her big lonely house, she catches sight of her abandoned ice cream cone. (Well, you win this one, Mom. I didn’t have a lot of sugar.) 

Jackie leaves it there. A feast for the ants.

“Yo, Jackie! Jackie Taylor, is that you?” 

A voice carries across the wind, drifting through the air from the windows of a rusted Ford Escort. It pulls up to the curb beside her. The Clash blares loudly from the speakers, made bigger by the four open windows. The music cracks and breaks when the bass guitar gets too loud, and hanging from the passenger side is an outstretched arm, clad in black leather despite the summer heat. 

The arm belongs to Natalie Scatorccio. 

“Dude, hey!” Nat pushes herself further out of the window and beckons for Jackie to come closer. “I hadn’t heard you were back in town.” 

Seated just behind Natalie, and presumably the owner of the car, is Kevyn Tan. Jackie hardly knows the guy. It was an understatement to say that they ran in different circles. Honestly, she always got the impression that Kevyn didn’t like her all that much. He always stared at her like he was judging her for simply existing, as if he was any better than her. As if his mom wasn’t in the same bridge club as Jackie’s own.

Jackie sees the same stare right now, and ignores it, equally uninterested in his presence as he seems to be with hers. 

It’s not a big surprise to see these two together. She remembers them being friends in high school. What gives her a shock, however, is the person sitting in the backseat, smiling at Jackie with a rosy pink blush on her cheeks. 

“Oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you!” Laura Lee waves, and Jackie gasps.

The shock of seeing the two of them is a shot of adrenaline in Jackie’s veins. She wipes her eyes— yes , she was crying—and hopes that they can’t see the signs of her previous distress written all over her face. 

“Nat, Laura Lee!” Jackie’s face splits into a grin. She runs to the edge of the curve and leans into Nat for a one-armed hug through the window. “Wowza, it’s good to see you guys. How long has it been?” 

Nat props up her arm. “Since Christmas, right?” 

“Since New Year’s,” Laura Lee corrects. The lilting pitch of her voice makes Jackie feel soft and young again. “Wow, this must be the longest we’ve ever gone, right?” 

“Yeah, since we were kids.” Jackie’s fighting off tears again. Geez, she seriously needs to put on her big girl panties and get her shit together. So much for a self-contained Jackie Taylor. Being back home surrounded by her best and worst memories has made her too volatile, quick to find meaning and significance in the smallest of moments. 

“So—whatcha been up to?” Nat’s got a crooked grin on her face. She looks happier than she did the last time Jackie saw her, and her voice is warm and easy as a cobbler’s crumble when it hits Jackie’s ears. 

Maybe it’s because she’s bored out of her mind, or could be that she’s still reeling from seeing Shauna, but Jackie finds herself hit by a wave of fondness that staggers her, rolling through her mind like wind against a field of tall grass. It feels like the opposite of déjà vu. — Is there a word for that? 

Because it’s different. She isn’t experiencing the sudden remembrance of a moment from the past. It’s more like… unexplainable nostalgia for a future that isn’t here yet. Does that make sense? If it does, then good for you! Because Jackie’s not sure she understands the feeling swirling inside of her brain. There has to be a word for it, right? Shauna would probably know.

(Shauna does know. In eighteen months, Jackie will remember to ask. Shauna will listen to her question, and then she’ll roll over in bed to rest her head against Jackie’s stomach, her dark eyes blinking in thought. 

“It’s jamais vu,” Shauna’s lips will curl when she says the words, and Jackie will drink them up as they slip off her tongue like water. They’ll taste like cheap diner pancakes, and a campfire’s smoke, and gritty mushrooms on her tongue. — That’ll make more sense later.

Jackie will want to cry happy tears, because it makes her remember, but she’ll press a kiss to Shauna’s smart mouth instead, because she wants to, and because she can.)

“Oh, y’know…” Jackie can’t bring herself to lie right now, so she avoids the subject of college, and focuses solely on what she’s been up to the last three days. “Just dealing with my parents. You know how they are.”

Nat nods knowingly, and Jackie’s sure they’re both remembering together. “They still have those sticks lodged up their asses?” 

“Oh, duh, they’ll need to have them surgically removed at this point. There’s no way they’re coming out naturally.” 

“Ha.” Nat snorts. “I’ll remind Laura Lee to keep them in her prayers.” 

Laura Lee rolls her eyes and kicks playfully at the back of Natalie’s seat. It’s weird to see the two of them together without Lottie nestled between them, but not in a bad way. It’s actually kind of nice. The sweetest kind of weird. Like—seeing a raccoon and a duck running around like a pair of best friends. 

“Do you have any plans today?” Laura Lee asks. 

“Uh—nope, not really.” She gestures up the road, waving her hand at the half-mile trek she had remaining. “Just walking. Which is totally riveting stuff, I know.”

“Well, far be it from us to interrupt your walking,” Nat tilts her head, giving Jackie a searching look that is way too perceptive for comfort. “But if you’re looking for something to do, we were going to catch a movie at the drive-in. You want to come?”

Jackie lurches at the invitation, far too high-strung to worry about appearing desperate. She agrees with no preamble. “I want to come.”

The offer is a godsend, a sparkling oasis in Jackie’s social desert. No doubt she looks insane right now, probably grinning like an idiot with tear tracks still drying on her red, blotchy cheeks. But—whatever. She can’t be bothered to give a shit right now.

Nat shuffles eagerly in her seat and clicks a button that unlocks the back doors. “Hell yeah. Here, hop in next to Laura Lee.” 

She tries not to move as fast as she physically can and does a decent job of succeeding. “What movies are playing?”

Laura Lee shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know.” 

Jackie looks expectantly at Nat, who also shrugs. 

“Fuck if I know. Does it matter? It’s just another place to hang out, right? I hope someone there has beer, but if they don’t—” Nat pauses mid-sentence to dig around inside of a backpack that rests heavy in her lap. A second later, she pulls out her victory prize—a rolled up sandwich baggie, filled with marijuana. “I brought plenty of this for us to share.” 

“Nice.” Jackie grins. This seems like exactly what she needs. Some alcohol, and a bit of weed… quality time with friends. It will be a welcome diversion from the pitiful shape her summer is taking. 

“I’ve been wondering, Jackie—did you get any better at rolling joints while you were in New Brunswick?”

She giggles and shakes her head. Jackie’s still the same girl that prefers a bong, on account of not knowing how to roll a joint herself. “No, not yet, but hopefully this summer will be my turning point.” 

“I’m sure you can do it if you put your mind to it.” 

“Thanks for the support, Nat. It really means a lot.”

Kevyn shifts in the front seat and removes a hand from the steering wheel. He frowns and pats against the front of his pockets. “Hey, Nat, would you grab my pack of—oh, yeah, those right there, thanks. Mind lighting me one?” 

Nat places two cigarettes between her lips and waves the lighter’s flame over both ends, puffing out a small cloud of tobacco smoke afterwards. She passes it back to Kevyn, who takes it with a smile. 

“You want one?” Nat asks, holding out another. 

Jackie grins and takes it between her fingers. “Yeah, screw it, give it here.”

Jackie doesn’t recognize it yet, won’t for a long time, but choosing to get into the car was a watershed moment. She makes a decision, and the winds whisper secrets to time. A celestial loom weaves threads of change, and fate’s baton strikes a momentous chord. 

Her life’s been changed forever. She can’t see it, but she will, one day. In the future, Jackie will reflect back and realize that it all started here, today, in the backseat of Kevyn Tan’s car, with cigarette smoke swirling through the air. 

“When did you two start hanging out together?” Jackie asks, flicking off the ash from the end of her cigarette. 

Nat yanks on her seatbelt to pull up some slack. Then she turns her body in her seat to more easily watch Jackie and Laura Lee in the back. 

“What do you mean, start?” Nat stares at Jackie and shakes her head no. “We’ve always hung out. Isn’t that right, Laura Lee?”

Which—that is entirely untrue, by the way. Jackie might not be nailing the college experience like she expected, but she was indisputably at the top of her game in high school. She would have noticed. 

“Yeah, but I just meant— normally, you have Lottie with you.” 

The ash on the end of Nat’s cigarette is getting dangerously long. Jackie squints, wondering if Nat is ever going to flick it out of the window, but she seems content to let it remain, one small move away from falling on her knee. 

As far as Jackie knows, Natalie and Laura Lee are the only ones (besides Misty Quigley, who doesn’t count) from their friends to still be in Wiskayok. She wonders if their situation was like her and Van’s; closeness built from familiarity and slim choices. 

Laura Lee laughs. “Natalie, be nice. You know what she means.” 

“I know… I just wanted to watch her squirm, that’s all.” She sighs dramatically, like Laura Lee is being a huge inconvenience. 

Talking about Lottie reminds Jackie of her earlier curiosity. She puts a hand on the back of Natalie’s seat and leans closer. “Oh, yeah, I was wondering. What the hell is Lottie doing this summer? I called her house the other day, but her mom said she’s not even in the country?”

“She’s in Belgium with her dad,” says Laura Lee.

“They’re doing rich people shit,” Nat continues, puffing on her cigarette. “She was here in town for a day last week. But her dad didn’t want to stay for long. She left on Wednesday.” 

“Wait, really? Aww, no! I got here on Thursday. I can’t believe I missed her by one day.” Jackie flops back against her seat. Disappointment presses at the edge of her good mood. These days, Jackie is short on friends. She’d been hoping to spend some of her free time with Lottie, at least on the days that Van was working, or with Tai.

Nat’s cigarette ash finally breaks, floating down and landing silently on her skin. “Yeah.” She presses her thumb down and rubs it in, sounding suddenly very melancholy. 

It seems like there’s something to explore there, but Jackie keeps quiet. She watches Nat straighten, staring at the cigarette in her hands, the way her lips move to curl around the filter. Jackie sighs. “Lucky her. I would fucking kill to go to Europe for the summer.”

She always fantasized about visiting one day. It’s been on her bucket list for as long as she can remember. 

As always, Shauna is by Jackie’s side in these fantasies, acting as her de facto tour guide. In Jackie’s imagination, they walk through museums, and Shauna answers all of Jackie’s questions about the art, no matter how silly they might be. Most of the time, Shauna’s correct, but when she’s not, she always says something silly hoping to make Jackie laugh. 

(“Jackie, come and check this one out. See—this guy? He’s sad, because…” Shauna points to a woman in the back of the painting, crouched next to a small child. “This lady, right here, that’s his wife. And she’s leaving him and taking the children with her.”

“What about that one?” 

Fantasy-Shauna leans in closer, “Oh, him? Well, he’s the mayor of that village back there. He’s come, uh… he’s come to—oh, to finalize the divorce. But what the unhappy couple hasn’t realized is…”

And then she’s sewing a story straight from the fabric of her own mind, words tumbling out eager and fast, with that silly twisted smile Jackie loves so much. She’s obsessed with Shauna’s big brain, even if she never fully understands it.) 

Cigarette smoke gets into Jackie’s eyes. The sting jerks her back to attention. She’s thankful that no one seemed to notice her glassy-eyed stare out the window.

Nat is still talking about Lottie. “Going to Belgium is like… going to, I dunno, fuckin’ Costco or something for Lottie. Routine shit.” 

Jackie hops right back into the conversation, never missing a beat. “Sounds like a pretty fucking nice routine.” 

“Like I said,” Nat smiles, softer than Jackie’s used to seeing, like she’s remembering something that makes her happy. “Rich people shit.” 

“We miss her. But it’s not so bad. Nat and I have gotten pretty close.” Laura Lee makes eye contact with Nat. They share a smile. “We’ve had a fun year together, haven’t we?” 

“Hell yeah, we have! And we’re about to have an even better summer.” 

The radio station moves onto another song. Jackie’s never heard it before, but Kevyn seems to have, because he nods his head along to the beat. She feels rude, suddenly, for ignoring him. He’s driving her around, after all. 

“What about you, Kevyn?” 

He meets her eyes in the rearview and tilts his head. “What?” 

Nat punches him in the shoulder. “Pay attention, space cadet.” 

Jackie smiles at him. “How was your year? I don’t actually know anything about what you’ve been up to.”

He blinks, surprised, like he wasn’t expecting her to actually bother with speaking to him. 

“Oh…uh—about the same as Nat and Lee’s. I’m at the local college, getting my basics out of the way. I’ve been working too, at the Walmart just outside of town.” He scratches the back of his neck. “And then just doing my thing the rest of the time. Y’know, same old shit.”

“Kev and I had calculus together.” Laura Lee says. “We studied together a lot over the year.” 

“Dude, there’s no way I would have made it past midterms without your help.” He looks at Jackie again in the mirror. “Seriously, I don’t know what I would have done without her. I guess just go full starving artist mode, or some shit.”

Jackie tries to make sense of this. “Wow. So… you’re like—a group, the three of you?” It’s a strikingly odd trio, but the idea of Laura Lee running around with a pair like Nat and Kevyn makes her smile. “I like it.” 

“It gets even weirder, if you’ll believe it.” Nat points her cigarette at Jackie, grinning. “We’re missing our fourth wheel. You remember Randy?” 

She blinks. Did she hear that correctly? 

“I’m sorry, did you say Randy… As in—Walsh? Like, Jeff’s best friend, Randy Walsh?”

“The very same. But, really, he hangs out with us more than he does Sadecki these days. Trust me, I know what you’re thinking. I was the same when Kevyn first started bringing him around.” Nat shrugs her shoulders, and then tosses her cigarette butt out of the window. “But I’ve really grown to like the big guy.”

Laura Lee bumps her shoulder into Jackie’s, nodding in agreement. “Me too. He’s actually really nice once you get to know him.” 

“Stupid,” Nat says, “but the sweetest.”

“Right…” Jackie tries not to come off as judgemental, even though she totally is. “So it’s been you three, and Randy?” 

Jackie’s being too harsh on poor Randy. It’s not like he’d ever done anything wrong. She’s like ninety-nine percent sure that he didn’t have a clue about Jeff and Shauna. For one, it was a well-established fact of their class lore that Randy had been crushing on Shauna for years. (A double-dick move, Jeff Sadecki.) And two, he was a big gossip, by teenage boy standards. She’s definitely being unfair thinking about him so unkindly, but it can’t be helped. Randy makes her think of them , and they make her bitter.

Nat laughs, looking impish and pleased by Jackie’s comical surprise. “Yep, we’re like a whole ass friend group now.” 

“Just like the Beatles.” Laura Lee says. 

That must be some fondly worn inside joke, because the three of them break into giggles that Jackie doesn’t understand how to interpret. She bites into her bottom lip and tries to pretend she knows exactly what’s going on. 

“The Beatles? Who’s who?” Jackie can’t tell you all that much about the Beatles, despite their infamy. It’s just not her type of music. 

“Well, I’m definitely Lennon. Obviously.” Nat says this with a flourish, leaning her head back enough to send strands of hair whipping up behind her. 

“You should have seen the way her and Kevyn argued about that one.” To make her point, Laura Lee leans forward and taps her fingers teasingly against the back of Kevyn’s neck. 

He sticks his tongue out at Natalie, but she only reaches out to poke it with her finger, sending him sputtering back to his side of the car. 

“I got saddled with McCartney.” 

Nat punches him in the shoulder again. “Oh, be quiet . You are so Paul. It’s ridiculous.”

Jackie turns to Laura Lee. “And what about you?”

“I’m George Harrison.”

They all laugh again, and Jackie can only assume there’s something ironic behind Laura Lee’s assignment. Whatever. She doesn’t need to understand the joke. As pathetic as it might sound, she’s genuinely just happy to be here. 

“And that makes Randy…?” Jackie trails off, looking expectantly between the two of them. 

“Oh, c’mon, Jackie. We already listed three of them. There’s only one more.” 

Jackie throws her hands up. “Sorry, I’m not a Beatles expert!”

Kevyn laughs, and the sound draws Jackie’s eyes back to the rearview. They look at each other. He’s smiling, and it seems like he’s warming up to her. That pleases Jackie, which is a strange and recent development, all things considered. His smile widens. “Randy is Ringo. The resident comedian of the group.” 

And try as she might, but Jackie really can’t see it. What do they even talk about when they’re hanging out together—this unlikely foursome? 

“So, like…” She bites into her lips, careful about her phrasing. “What do you guys do—when you all hang out, or whatever?”

Nat pauses, tilting her head. “Oh. Yeah, I should probably mention: we started a band back in January. That’s mostly what we do together. Music stuff.”

Are they fucking with her? Because it kind of seems so. Like—what? Jackie knows it’s normal to discover your genuine passions, or whatever, in the years following high school. But something about Natalie Scatorccio and Kevyn Tan forming a band with Laura Lee and Randy Walsh is so out of the realm of possibilities that it has to be fake. 

She settles Natalie with a skeptical stare. “What the fuck? Are you serious? An actual band?”

Nat only cackles in response, pressing an open palm against her thighs. “You look so… surprised. Why? Do I not give off a band vibe? Because I feel like I do.” 

“You do.” Jackie admits, because yeah, Natalie definitely looks the part. Embodies it, really. Kevyn has the look for it too, though she can’t take him as seriously knowing he lives in a big house in the same neighborhood as she does. Laura Lee, though… that’s the kicker. Jackie turns to face the girl in question. “And I didn’t even know that you played an instrument.”

“I didn’t.” Laura Lee says. “But Kev and Nat have been teaching me to play the bass since last October, so now I do.” 

“She’s pretty fucking good. I’d even call her a natural.” Kevyn says, nodding his head as they continue down a winding road. 

“Damn. That’s pretty badass, Laura Lee.” 

She blushes pretty and pink and smiles. “Aww, thanks, Jackie.” 

Her mouth opens to prepare for another question, because Jackie has to know: what kind of music do they play? But before she gets the chance, Nat is cursing and waving her hand jerkily at Kevyn. 

“Dude, you missed the entrance!” And yep, he did. Jackie watches it fly by through the window. 

The two of them bicker about the best place to turn around. Jackie leaves them to it. What a weird day this was turning out to be.

“Hey, Jackie, can you see if my lighter fell behind the seat?” Nat asks. She’s twisted up like a pretzel, pressed up close against the door with her arm shoved down the side to root around near the ground. 

They pulled into the drive-in theater a few minutes ago. The wide grassy lot is lined with cars, interspersed with pockets of fold-out camp chairs and groups of kids too young to loiter at a bar, clutching cheap beers in their hands. The air is buzzing with the sounds of mosquitos and youthful chatter. It is so very regular, almost blissfully so. Jackie gazes out the window, watching the scene, before her brain finally processes that Nat asked for her help. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll look now!” 

Nat shoves open the passenger door and crouches down to inspect. “Shit, I really liked that one.” 

“Is it the purple one?” Jackie asks, reaching for a pale, lavender lighter tucked just under where the seatbelt strap is attached to the floor. She snags it between two fingers and holds it up for inspection. 

“Fuck yeah, Jackie. Thanks.” She plucks it away. 

They all clamber out of the vehicle. Jackie helps Laura Lee set up their chairs, while Natalie digs around in Kevyn’s trunk for a faded old lunchbox bearing the image of the Bat-mobile. “It’s where we keep the papers.” Nat explains, noticing Jackie’s inquisitive look. 

Considering the circumstances, Jackie’s feeling pretty good. It’s a far cry from a couple of hours ago. She remembers her ice cream cone and wonders how much progress the ants have made.

When they all get settled in their seats, Nat taps her knee against Jackie’s. “So, tell us more about what you’ve been up to, prom queen. How’s Rutgers? Have you taken over campus yet? Become—I dunno, Supreme Leader of the Sororities, or whatever?”

Jackie thinks about lying to her. 

(Well it’s been going great, thank you so much for asking. It’s everything she dreamed it would be. Last month she met a nice boy at a charity mixer, and with some luck, he’ll be introducing her to his mother before summer’s end. Oh—and his family has a vacation home in Martha’s Vineyard, in case you were wondering.)

Lying would be the more comfortable option. Her pride’s been so badly wounded this last year that it’s practically nonexistent. The urge to protect the last few pieces is strong. It might prove to be a salve, a bandage to her insecure spirit. 

But, no, she doesn’t do it. 

Jackie tells the truth. 

“To be honest with you, I fucking hate it.” Until now, Jackie’s only really ever discussed her feelings about the last year with Van. There’s something that is freeing about saying it out loud to someone else. Her shoulders sag with relief. 

“What about Van?” Laura Lee asks, frowning. “I thought they were at Rutgers with you.” 

“No, they are. And I’m being so serious when I say that Van is the only reason I made it through the year.” Jackie feels such a sudden rush of affection over that and wishes that Van could be here, so Jackie could tell them so. “We hang out a lot—as often as we can, anyway. But I don’t like putting all of my shit on them. They’ve got their own life.” 

That strategy did not serve her well with Shauna. She sees no reason to repeat history with Van. And to be entirely truthful… Jackie just can’t imagine herself ever relying on another person the way she relied on Shauna. Don’t mistake her, though. It’s not out of some misguided fear of being betrayed again. That would be silly . Jackie will not start mistrusting everyone because Shauna proved herself to be the worst. It would just end up being another thing taken from her. — No, it’s more that she genuinely cannot do it. The part of Jackie that loved like that is still clutched squarely in the heart of Shauna Shipman’s clenched fists. It was once freely given. Now it’s become a mournful hostage. 

Jackie continues, picking lightly at the cuticle on her thumb, trying not to fold in on herself. “But it’s okay. It’s not that unusual to have a bad first year.” 

That was true, right? She could swear she heard something like that before. 

Laura Lee asks, so quiet and soft and familiar, that Jackie can’t help but smile. “Why was the year so bad?”

She isn’t sure how to respond to that. The answer exists. Jackie can feel it twisting through her mind, shapeless and abstract, unable to be molded into a sentence to be shared. She sits there quietly for a minute, trying to gather her thoughts. 

“I’m not sure I even know the answer to that. Nothing horrible happened, or anything like that.” She pulls her legs up onto her seat and tugs her knees to her chest, using her arms to anchor them close. “My grades are decent. I’m a shoo-in for a committee seat in the sorority. But it’s like… I forgot how to be happy? Which is stupid, but—yeah, that’s what it’s been like. Maybe I’m just not good at being away from home.” 

Since asking her initial question, Nat’s been quiet in her seat. The Bat-mobile lunch box is open in her lap. She’s rolling a joint above it, fingers nimble and quick as they roll the paper swiftly into a tight wrap. Her eyebrows are drawn together in focus, but Jackie can see that she’s listening, and she thinks the attention is nice. 

(It really is getting ridiculous how bad Jackie is becoming at being alone. Not that she was ever any good to start.)

“You’re not bad at being away from home, Jackie.” Nat says dryly. Then she chuckles, looking up from her work to give Jackie an amused look. “Okay, well maybe you are—but it’s not for the reasons that you think.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I thought you said the other girls in your sorority liked you? Do they just… all suck, or something?”

Kevyn opens his mouth before Nat has time to respond. The sound of his voice startles Jackie. In truth, she’d sort of forgotten that he was there. She receives a flush of embarrassment over that. What is she doing right now—spilling her guts like a baby in front of the other people willing to spend time with her? Perhaps that’s why Shauna let Jeff shove himself inside of her? She must have been the first to notice how pathetic Jackie had become.  

Jackie shakes her head, acting as if she didn’t just visibly jerk in her seat. “No. A lot of them are actually really sweet.”

She isn’t close friends with any of them, but there are a few that she thinks she could be good friends with, one day, if she ever gets out of her own head. 

“So what’s the problem, then?” Kevyn asks like the answer is supposed to be easy. 

Should it be easy? It’s not, because really—what is her problem? Jackie bundles the thought up, shoves it away in a box, and then punts that box into the dark recesses of her mind for later reflection. It’s a question she’s asked herself a million times. (Why can’t I be happy anymore?) Clearly, she still hasn’t come up with an answer. Not one that helps. But she will not go down the rabbit hole in front of the others.

Jackie’s been vulnerable enough for one day. 

“Me, probably.” Jackie grins, doing a pretty good job of feigning a casual response. “Not that surprising, I guess.”

Nat laughs. “Well, I could have told you that much, Taylor.”

“Be quiet.” There’s no heat behind Jackie’s words, only an endearing exasperation. She rests her chin atop her kneecaps and looks at the dirt. “Sometimes… I feel like Shauna fucked me up so bad that I’m—I’m—like, broken, or something. I’ll never find what we had, ever again? And it just—it sucks. I miss having a person.” 

Laura Lee and Nat look at each other. The eye contact isn’t subtle in the slightest, and it makes Jackie tense; half-curious, half-threatened by the silent communication. She’s never liked knowing there’s a narrative out there that she isn’t a part of. Jackie watches the both of them and feels the gnawing tug of interest. She fights it down, but only just. 

Her words hang thick in the air. A person . 

Laura Lee tilts her head. “Have you talked to her at all since you’ve been back—Shauna?” 

“No…” Jackie shakes her head. “But I saw her earlier, before you guys picked me up.”

It’s only been a couple of hours since Jackie’s impromptu hike to the ice cream parlor, and her subsequent sighting of one Shauna Miriam Shipman, but she’s already thought about that moment more than a hundred times. Shauna’s serene smile, her new piercings, the minor changes, and the tiny details that stayed the same. It lodges a wrench in her throat every time. 

“I knew you were upset about something,” Nat says with her signature bluntness. But she’s soft enough with her tone. Jackie isn’t offended. “Why? Did Shipman try to talk shit or something?”

“She didn’t even realize I was there . I bolted like a fucking coward.” 

Laura Lee drops a warm hand on Jackie’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’m sure that she misses you, Jackie.” 

“I fucking hope she does.” She doesn’t even care that she sounds petty, because the simple joy of being snarky disappears as soon as it arrives. “But I doubt it. She looked—fantastic . And happy, I guess.”

“Dude, what? You saw her for a single moment. That’s nothing.” Nat inhales from the joint and gives Jackie another one of those piercing, searching looks. “I know that you two spent years up each other’s asses, but you can’t know what’s going on in her head.”

Jackie rolls her eyes. “Ha. Clearly.” 

Nat rolls her eyes right back and blows out a disapproving cloud of smoke. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick, but—yeah, man. Clearly. For all you know, Shipman could be sobbing into her stupid journal every night.” 

She doesn’t want to explore why that makes her go so warm in the center of her chest, so she doesn’t. Instead, she sighs. “A girl can dream.”

“Do you think you two will ever be friends again?” Laura Lee asks, leaning over to take the joint from Natalie’s outstretched hands. 

Jackie blinks in surprise. Because that’s new. Her eyes linger on the sight—so decidedly odd that she takes a minute to think of her reply. Laura Lee inhales a small puff, making eye contact with Jackie as she exhales, the both of them trying to fight off a smile. 

“Uh… Honestly—I don’t know.” Jackie hasn’t even smoked herself yet, but something about seeing Laura Lee with a joint in her hands leaves her lighter, able to put some humor in her voice. “Sometimes I really hope so. I miss her.” 

She doesn’t just hope for it. That is so pedestrian. No, Jackie dreams of it. Those nights always bring with them a horrible morning, vivid with their intensity. She wakes up with the burn of Shauna’s laugh still pouring into her eardrums, and the ghost of her touch fading into the memory of Jackie’s bones. 

Laura Lee passes the joint over to Jackie, who takes it and smokes it with a confidence that she doesn’t really have. Jackie continues, “But she never even said sorry, you know? If I just take Shauna back without even hearing a genuine apology first… what does that say about me? Like, wouldn’t it make me so pathetic?” 

“Yes.” Natalie nods. “It would be pretty damn bad.” 

Jackie snorts. Nat’s always been straightforward in her observations. Jackie hated it in high school. It was too personal, as if it were barbed and wired with the sole intention of breaking beneath Jackie’s interior. It doesn’t bother her so much now, and Jackie wonders when she had the time to mellow out between all of her stress and angst. 

Nat continues, emphatically waving the joint around. “So that’s why you shouldn’t make it easy on her, if the chance comes. Let’s be real—she hasn’t done shit to earn your forgiveness. Make her grovel for it. You’ve earned that much.”

“I’d like to see that,” Jackie says, imagining Shauna on her knees, experiencing that strange warmth again. She bats the emotion away, covering it up with the hollow sound of an empty laugh. “But it’s not going to happen. She’s never even called. I don’t think she’s the groveling type. Anyway—I wasn’t exactly the greatest friend either.”

“Fuck her, then. Yeah, you weren’t perfect. You could be self-centered and bossy, and sometimes you take up a lot of air in the room. I can see why Shipman got tired of it.”

Objectively, she knows Natalie is building to some big point—that this was supposed to be a pep talk. But she still stabs Jackie in the heart with an easy utterance, and it’s so difficult for Jackie to keep her face neutral. 

“But seriously, Jackie, those are normal person flaws. So what? Okay, you’re bossy. And? I can be a closed off bitch sometimes.” 

“I can be very passive aggressive.” Laura Lee nods, although Jackie’s certainly never seen it before.

Even Kevyn jumps in to offer a flaw for judgment. “And I’m a moody prick, like all the time.”

“Ain’t that right.” Nat grins. “But the point is… it doesn’t matter if you weren’t the  perfect friend. You still loved the shit out of her, didn’t you? You didn’t deserve what they did, no matter what bullshit Shipman tries to say about it.”

Well.

Jackie looks away, entirely touched and emotional all over again. The smile she gives Nat is shy, but thankful. “I know that… like, logically. But that’s the problem. I know one thing, but my brain is still so…” 

Jackie waves a hand, not sure what word she wants to use. Crazy? Stupid? 

“Stuck?” Laura Lee offers helpfully. 

“Yeah.” And Jackie thinks that sounds about right. She looks down at her ankles, imagines an opaque, non-corporeal ball-and-chain. “Stuck.”

“It’s possible you need more distractions.” Laura Lee says, blowing out some more smoke. 

“But I’ve tried already,” Jackie whines, remembering all the stupid mixers and tailgates she’d forced herself to attend over the last year. 

“But did you really?” Nat squints at her, skeptical. “Like, genuinely , have you really tried to distract yourself?”

“Yeah. I told you, I joined a—” 

“—sorority, yes. But, hello, you said it yourself? You hate it, and you’re not making friends. So how good of a distraction is it, really?” 

Jackie clamps her mouth shut. It’s admittedly a significant point. “Not a very good one, I guess.” 

Nat and Laura Lee share another one of those mysterious looks… Jackie tries to ignore it. 

“Well, you’ve got the entire summer ahead of you.” Laura Lee shrugs. “It’s possible you’ll find something new.” 

She laughs. “Yeah, wouldn’t it be nice?”

Kevyn rushes off before the movie starts, to find someone feeling charitable enough to part with a few beers.

Jackie finishes the joint with Laura Lee and Natalie. It’s a pleasant high, if not a little heady, but she sits comfortably in her chair with her legs crossed. Conversation continues between the other two, but Jackie keeps quiet, content to observe this strange new closeness between them. 

She wishes Van were here. Do they know about this? About the band? Jackie leans towards no. There’s no way Van would have been able to keep this a secret. Unfortunately, with Van comes Taissa. 

Laura Lee and Natalie fall in the realm of neutral territory, perhaps even leaning towards Jackie’s side of the spectrum. Taissa, however, seems content to fill the space left behind in Jackie’s absence. Van does her best not to let Shauna’s name slip out in conversation, but she doesn’t have a spotless record. 

Natalie laughs at a joke Laura Lee makes about something her younger brother did earlier that day. Jackie stares. Physically, Nat looks exactly the same as she did a year ago, even down to the bleach coloring her hair. But Jackie looks deeper, eyes trying to dig underneath skin and bone to the person underneath, and sees a happier version of the surly, rebellious burnout she’s always known.

It’s nice to see. 

Kevyn returns from his hunt with a twelve pack of Busch Light held above his head like a trophy. “Guys, check this out. Some old dude let me buy this off of him for twenty bucks.”

“Score.” Nat whistles appreciatively. “Nice scouting, dude.” She extends her hand out for a can. 

He passes one over and looks at Jackie. “How about you?”

“Definitely. And thanks.” 

She takes it from him with a grateful smile, noticing that he doesn’t offer one to Laura Lee. The gesture comes off as thoughtful, not patronizing, and she finds she likes him for that, just a little bit more. 

Jackie pulls the tab back, cracks the can open, and is greeted by the fizzing rush of carbonated bubbles. Stray droplets of cheap beer spray against the front of her shirt, but she’s feeling too relaxed to worry about it. 

The drink is cool and quenching in Jackie’s mouth—which has gone dry since finishing that joint. She swallows and looks over at Nat. “Hey. Uh—thanks for, uh, inviting me to hang out with you guys. I’ve had a good time.” 

“Movie hasn’t even started yet, Taylor. We’ve got hours to go.” Nat laughs and opens her own beer. “You don’t need to say thanks. It was actually… nice. To see you.” 

“Actually?” Jackie repeats with a teasing grin. She is unapologetically pleased by the comment and it’s clear as day on her face. “Glad I could surprise you with my good company.”

“Oh, be quiet, will you? I was trying to say that I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Scatorccio.” And wow, she did, didn’t she? She didn’t realize that before today, and she wonders if that says anything about her. “And you too, Laura Lee. — Can’t say that I really missed you, Kevyn, since we weren’t friends, but… It’s still good to see you.” 

Jackie smiles at him. 

He snorts, then lifts his beer in her direction. “Back at you, Taylor.”

“I’m really glad we saw you walking today.” Laura Lee says. She was always the first to follow along with Jackie when she suggested a team bonding exercise for the team. They both shared a genuine love of things like that. It’s always been something that’s brought them closer.

Perhaps this can be her distraction for the summer—Nat, Laura Lee, and yeah, even Kevyn, too. 

Tentatively, almost shy, Jackie looks between the three of them, hoping that she doesn’t sound as desperate as she feels. “Maybe… I could hang out with you guys again sometime? It’d even be nice to see Randy.” She’s fibbing about that, but figures that it might help her case.

Jackie regrets it immediately.

Kevyn immediately shares a glance with Natalie, who’s meeting his eyes with a frown. (Oh.) Even Laura Lee shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and that hurts more than anything. For a moment, she’d hoped—and, yeah, she probably should stop doing that, but clearly Jackie never learns—that something good might come out of this day. That she might salvage this poor excuse for a summer break.

(Is she repulsive or something? What is it about Jackie that sends everyone running? Goodness, she feels like she might cry again.)

Whatever. It’s another stab at her pride, but what’s one more? Most of it’s been chipped away already. 

“It’s fine if not.” She says stiffly, face burning hot and red. Her fingers curl into the beer can, digging rivets into the aluminum. 

Natalie seems to realize that Jackie’s offended—hurt, really, more than anything—and leans forward to make eye contact with Jackie. She shakes her head quickly.

“No, dude, you’re always welcome to crash our party. It’s just—we’re actually leaving town tomorrow, all four of us.”

“Oh.” She chews on that, still unsteady. “Where are you guys going?”

Well, at least it’s not because she’s horrible company. (So, you’re not terrible to be around, only self-centered. That’s better, right?) 

Laura Lee claps her hands, taking Jackie by surprise. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen her look so excited. “We’re going everywhere.”

Which… Alright, that’s vague. She tilts her head, confused.

Kevyn fills in the context. “We—the band —we’re leaving to go on tour, all around the country.”

Tour? Jackie, admittedly, doesn’t know much about forming a band, even less about what it takes to successfully run one. But she thought you needed to have some general notoriety to pull off a tour. Jackie  has been picturing the four of them playing music in Randy’s suburban garage, but apparently she needs to readjust her mental image. (She still barely believes it’s real; this band.) 

“No offense, you guys.” She says slow and careful. “But how are you pulling this off? Do you have, like, fans all around the country or something?” 

“It’s not that hard to book a show. It’s pretty informal when you’re at our level.” Nat points at Kevyn, who meets her eyes with a sheepish smile. “This guy is handling most of the logistics, but it’s pretty straightforward. We’re going to drive to a bunch of cities, and play music in a bunch of bars. Sounds fun, right?” 

(It does.)

Kevyn takes over from there. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward over his lap. “It’ll be mostly that—the bars. But there will be some house shows along the way, and I’m sure we’ll find plenty of other gigs too.” 

“Do you just call random bars and ask if you can play your music there?” 

“Pretty much. Some of the nicer places made us send in some demo tapes before we could book a lot in the schedule, but most were small enough that it took nothing but a phone call.”

“Huh.” Jackie nods dumbly, glancing at their faces. They’re all so… excited. Jealousy paints a vivid stripe down the side of her heart. “How do you know all of this?” 

“My cousin’s done it before.” Kevyn tosses back another gulp of beer. “He helped me with a lot of the planning.”

“It’s going to be so fucking gnarly.” Nat is practically vibrating. She’s so happy.

“Kev’s uncle is letting us borrow his RV camper.” Laura Lee hums underneath the afternoon sun. Sweaty strands of blonde hair wave frizzy around her head. Jackie wishes she had a camera to take a picture. “It’ll be like we have an actual tour bus.” 

Nat and Laura Lee have thrown curveball after curveball at Jackie today. Frankly, it’s boggling to see these recent changes, especially when she feels stuck in the same place she was in last year. If anything —she’s in a worse spot. But there’s something inspiring about it. Laura Lee, of all people, learned to play the bass, and she seems perfectly content to run around the country in an RV. And Nat—there’s a peace behind her laughter that wasn’t there before. It rings real. Jackie wants to know what brought on these changes, needs to pick them apart so she can mimic the process for herself. 

“That’s awesome, you guys.” And, shit— it’s green, it’s green, it’s green, all over her heart, and in her veins. 

(Green. That’s Shauna’s favorite color. Maybe that explains something?) 

The entire idea is insane. Four college sophomores stuffed inside a camper, with hardly any money and no concrete plans besides making it to the next show? It’s grimy. And probably dangerous—who knows what sort of people they’ll meet along the way? But at the same time, it’s terribly enticing…

Reckless and life-changing, something that will stain their memories with nostalgia. Already Jackie tries to picture the adventures they’ll go on, and she sees the four of them; sepia-toned and overlaid with happy, sentimental music. 

Jackie exhales a weary breath. “Wowza. So—I guess you guys will be gone for a while, then?” 

The question is directed at Laura Lee, but she’s doing that intense silent eye contact thing with Natalie again. Jackie glances between them, narrowing her eyes, but she’s distracted when Kevyn pipes up to answer her question. 

“Yeah, probably until mid-August.” He looks close to bursting with pride over planning such an action-packed adventure. “But it’s not exact or anything.”

“I’m thrilled for you guys.” She plasters a smile on her face. It’s the truth—she objectively is glad on their behalf. But the jealousy burns hot, despite her knowing how unfair it is to resent others achieving their goals. “I haven’t heard you play yet, but I bet you guys are great. One day, you’ll have to perform a song for me.” 

Natalie’s now roped Kevyn into the weird staring contest. Jackie squirms, takes a long sip of her beer, just to give her hands something to do. 

Her discomfort builds to a pressure point. Jackie’s irritated now with the blatant exclusion. 

Before she can ask them what the hell is going on, Nat pivots to look her right in the eyes. “Hey, Jackie?” Her voice is light, airy, sending a prickle of mysterious excitement up through the knot of her spine. 

She doesn’t know what’s going on, but something between them crackles with electric energy. 

“Yeah?” she says. 

“Are you doing anything this summer?” Nat plays it coy. “I mean, besides pining over Shauna at the world’s loneliest pity party?”

Is that a challenge? It rings like one, clear as day in Natalie’s tone. Jackie fights off a smile, and rises to the occasion, eager for something she still doesn’t understand. 

She responds, matching the breeze in Nat’s voice. “Nah, not really. You said it yourself—I’ll just be pining at the pity party.” They still don’t look away from each other. It’s probably the most… intimate (for lack of a better word) moment she’s ever had with Natalie Scatorccio. 

“Think you could cancel those appointments?” 

No. Not really. Missing Shauna isn’t a switch that Jackie can turn off, but she still wants to know where this is going. 

“I’ll have to, like, check with my assistant first. See how my calendar is looking? But yeah, I think I’ll be able to make some room.”

Natalie gives her the middle finger and drinks again from her beer. “You’re a fucking idiot, Jackie.” 

She can’t help but laugh too, finally taking the bait. “Why do you ask?” 

The unlikely trio share another glance, and finally, Kevyn nods his head. “Alright, why the hell not? Go ahead. The more the merrier, right?” 

Laura Lee claps her hands again while Jackie is still trying to catch up. She turns, and smiles. “Do you want to come with us?” 

Jackie blinks. “Come with you?”

“Yes.” 

“Like… on your tour?”

Nat cuts in, kicking dirt in Jackie’s direction with the toe of her combat boot. “Duh, bitch. Where else?” 

“But… I’m not in the band.”

“Okay, and? You can be our first groupie. C’mon , you were just saying how boring you thought your summer would be.” Natalie seems genuinely excited by the prospect, but Jackie still hasn’t fully wrapped her head about what’s being offered. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“I can’t just—you… you said you’re leaving tomorrow, right?” Jackie sputters. This idea… It’s ridiculous. “That’s like no time to get ready.”

“It won’t take you all night to pack a bag.” 

“It might if the bag is supposed to hold me over for two and a half months!” 

“Okay, then.” Nat cocks her head at Kevyn, who meets her with a grin, seeming to understand what she’s getting at. He shoves his hands into his pockets and digs around. “We’ll just wait for Kev to find his keys, and then we can go.” 

“My gosh, wait!” Jackie looks back and forth between them, bewildered. “This is—you guys aren’t serious, right? This is crazy.” 

Kevyn crumples up his beer and reaches for another one. “But in a fun way, right?”

Laura Lee, meanwhile, reaches over and rests a hand on Jackie’s arm. “There’s no pressure, Jackie. You don’t have to come if you’d rather stay here—but, for what it’s worth… I think you would have an amazing time. And I would love for you to be there.”

“Just think…” Kevyn wipes beer foam from his upper lip. “It’ll make for a great story to tell your kids one day.” 

Before Jackie can consider the implications of that, Nat pounces on the concept and takes off running with it. “Do you think you’ll have time to worry about Shauna fucking Shipman while you’re with us? You’ll be so busy—traveling the country, meeting new people. It’s going to be an adventure. Come on, live a little.”

Her head is spinning. She needs a minute to think. 

(But to answer Natalie’s question… Yes, Jackie can always find the time to worry about Shauna fucking Shipman.)

She can’t.

Right? 

This is an insane idea. What do they think this is —some shitty coming of age movie? They aren’t being realistic. Sure, traveling the country with a group of friends for the entire summer is a dream. An adventure ripped straight from the mind of John Hughes. The type of story that people make art about. 

But these sorts of exploits aren’t meant for people like Jackie Taylor. It’s too messy , sticky with risk, and entirely too unpredictable. Jackie rots away in her doll box, watching life pass her by through the smeared blur of plastic, keeping her safe, pretty, and vulnerable. Until one day she has a daughter of her own, and then she’ll pass the box down to start the process brand new again. Just like her mother. 

Jackie asked the others for some time to decide. They’re staring up at the big projector screen now, watching Jeff Goldblum coo at a baby T. Rex. She’s got a cigarette gripped tight in her hand, a physical aid to her contemplation.

It’s stupid. (Jackie doesn’t want to be smart.)

It’s crazy. (And so what if it is?)

It’s wild. (She pictures her pretty doll’s box, and imagines kicking the top straight off.)

The idea won’t stop rattling around her head, yanking at the bars of a cage, buzzing louder and louder until she has no room for any other thoughts. 

How would she even pull this off if she does decide she wants to go? (She does, she does, she does.) They leave tomorrow, though. There’s no way she’ll be able to make it work. 

Jackie doesn’t know any of the details beyond the vague description provided by Laura Lee. (We’re going everywhere.) 

And what about money? How are they going to afford their gas? Are they going to sleep in the RV the entire time? All five of them? Can Jackie even handle that? It’s a well-known fact that she can be high maintenance. 

Not to mention the matter of her parents. 

(“Hey, Mom. Hi, Dad. So, I wanted to let you guys know that I’m leaving for the summer to go on a cross-country adventure with Natalie Scatorccio and her band. She lives on that side of town, and she’s a Catholic, but don’t worry! It’ll be fine!” — But even as she imagines it, Jackie knows that if she wants to, she can get away with it. They’ll believe any excuse she gives them if it allows them to keep their distance.)

Jackie doesn’t do things like this. What the fuck is she thinking, even considering it? She’s not cut out for life on the road with four other people—two of them being teenage boys, for goodness’ sake. 

But then—loud and vivid, like the chilling orchestra from the horror movies she always hated to watch—Jackie hears Shauna’s voice, sounding just as it had on Implosion Day, angry, cutting, and mean. 

Jackie’s tragic. Jackie’s boring. And above all else, Jackie’s insecure.

(“High school is the best your life is ever gonna get.”)

It sets Jackie aflame—torching her to a crisp—as deep as her organs hiding under her skin, and all the way up to the roots of her hair follicles, the beds of her nails, the whites of her eyes.

She clears her throat and lets her cigarette fall down to the ground. She’d forgotten to actually smoke it, and the ember had long fizzled out. 

“Nat?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’ll do it.” 

Laura Lee gasps and immediately twists in her seat to beam at Jackie. “Really? Are you serious?” 

“Yeah.” Jackie nods. “I think so.” 

Something like bravery tickles up her spine and embeds itself in the root of her nervous system, sending ripples of courage down her chest that pop and crackle like lightning. She wants to give the feeling a name. It’s… ethereal, and it presses down on the valves of her heart. Jackie suddenly sees a flash of herself; wrinkled and grey, face and skin carved and marked by laugh lines, and sunspots, and decades of a life’s story. 

This version of Jackie burrows into her brain stem and slips inside her mind, bringing with her a wistful longing that burns so white hot it makes her want to rip herself right out of her skin. 

(These are the good old days. Don’t you see that? You’re lucky, Jackie, to know it before it’s too late?)  

It’s like remembering childhood. It hurts her now, at the young age of nearly nineteen, to reflect on the innocence of being fourteen, twelve, eight. But this is so much worse: Jackie gets a hint of herself at eighty years old. It’s scalding, the longing she feels for days she’s both lived, and not. She’s eighty, she’s fifty, she’s twenty-five, she’s everything at once, and every version of herself screams: “Jump. Live.”

“Fuck it.” Jackie holds out her beer. 

Natalie meets her halfway. “Hell yeah. Fuck it. We’re doing this.”