Chapter Text
“WOULD NOT BONE” PJ announces, drawing an X through another girl's picture in their 7th grade yearbook. She’s splayed out on the floor of Josie’s bedroom, her frizzy brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail. A pile of clothes has built up next to the closet, where Josie rummages through, fully clad in her pajamas. It was the last day of summer, and the two best friends were spending it similarly to how they did most of their break.
“Thoughts,” Josie spins around with a pair of her dad's old golf shorts and an oversized shirt with the words “I ❤️ FEMALE ORGASM,” on it.
PJ taps her chin with the red expo marker pensively. Josie doesn’t mention to her that the marker is uncapped and that the lower half of her face is dotted with red. “How are you getting past your Dad with the shirt? And you’re gonna need a belt the size of Russia to hold those shorts up.” Her consonants shred together from the wire braces in her mouth.
“My dad doesn’t even know what orgasm means. You don’t get it. I’m in the throes of puberty right now, I measured my hips and they’re getting bigger. If my estrogen keeps up at this rate, this waistband is gonna burst from the sheer density of my ass. I might even be wearing padded bras soon.”
PJ nods insightfully at the new information, and studies the cohesion of the outfit again, “Actually, keep the shirt. Ms. Growsky is gonna dress code you and probably give you really sexy intense eye contact.”
“That’s gross. She’s like, 40.” Josie shudders and tosses the shirt back into her closet.
“Do you think Stella-Rebecca will still have braces? Someone said that she got caught smoking pot because she had like, the literal nubs stuck in the wires.” PJ doodles aimlessly in the glossy pages, kicking her socked feet in the air.
“That’s cool,” Josie posits nonchalantly. Neither she nor PJ have actually seen weed in their life.
“She's super hardcore now. I saw her at Sephora with her mom at the mall the other day and she has like. C-cups.”
“Yeah well, that’s gonna be me pretty soon,” Josie shrugs with the confidence that only a chronically online 12-year-old could ever boast. She sways in front of her mirror with a new outfit, flaunting her bedazzled Justice sweatpants and Naruto shirt she got from her cousin. “I think I’ll go with this.” She turns around and romps her hair slightly, and PJ looks up from adding comically large boobs to Stella-Rebecca’s yearbook photo.
“OKAYY!” PJ whoops into the air and Josie pretends to shy away from the applause, parading the ugly anime merchandise with the charisma of a Macy’s child model. “I still like the Female O one better.”
“But if I actually get dress-coded my mom’ll go through my closet and she’ll go into cardiac arrest if she sees the shirt with Snoop Dog and Whoopi Goldberg sharing a bong on it and I’ll be grounded for life. I’ll never talk to a girl again and I’ll never go to school and I’m gonna only wear blouses and pencil skirts and I’ll be a horribly repressed closeted lesbian for the rest of my life!” Josie takes a deep breath.
“I’ll wear it. Ms Growsky has that husky ex-chainsmoker drawl when she’s mad. I think it’s kinda hot.”
“Yeah, you would,” Josie tosses the wrinkled black shirt over her shoulder into PJ’s lap, taking a seat next to her best friend.
“Okay, so these are all people we could feature in our next video,” PJ turns the yearbook around and Josie leans over to look at their selection. All the faces are crossed out, and a few have morally questionable caricatures sprouting from their pictures.
“I thought you were writing down video ideas.” Josie peers over at the lined paper PJ has abandoned that only has two bullet points on it.
WE ACCIDENTALLY SUMMONED DEMONS IN OUR OUIJA BOARD APP (OUR HOUSE IS HAUNTED??)
YOU’RE A HOSTAGE IN OUR VAN WHEN WE KIDNAP OUR PRINCIPAL ASMR (GONE WRONG!! NOT CLICKBAIT)
“Ugh it’s not my fault everyone's lame and gross,” PJ takes out her phone and scrolls through her apps, “We need a clickbait-worthy face, otherwise no one’s gonna watch it.”
“Maybe we should just film something normal, like a day in our lives- like Brittany!”
“Brittany only has 20,000 subscribers because she’s hot and has no personality, I bet half of her likes are middle-aged men,” PJ clicks on the girl’s Instagram profile and shoves it into Josie’s face, “No one wants to see us do a makeup haul.” Despite being a preteen, Brittany has followers in the thousands, with upwards of a hundred posts of miscellaneous selfies, brand deals, and captions containing concerningly invasive amounts of personal information. “Also, I had PE with her last year, and her nose bridge is not that high, so much for #nofilter!”
“How’s our last video doing?” Josie groans into her hands.
“We got 50 more views!” PJ notes, “I started reposting really conservative iFunny memes on Youtube Shorts for more clicks and I think it’s working.”
“That’s smart, that’s smart,” Josie snaps her fingers in solidarity.
“Okay Jos, this is just the beginning. This-” PJ shakes her phone,“-is our portfolio, our evidence of entrepreneurship. We stay consistent. We grind. We post every week except Hanukkah and Easter because real hustlers know how to separate work and rest. We get millions of subscribers, we’re multi-platform influencers, we’re a BRAND.” The two of them are standing now, nodding intensely to the rhythm of PJ’s speech. Any semblance of either of their anxiety is completely gone now. “We are ugly. We are untalented. But this is America. We are the underdog. We can win. We will win. We submit this to Harvard, they beg us to attend, we meet other really hot business lesbians and we become world famous actor-writer-editor-CEO Forbes invitees who build one of the biggest monopolies in the world. We win.”
“WE WIN!” Josie echoes. They bump chests awkwardly and start chanting at one another in a mesh of Sigma grindset buzzwords before PJ’s phone begins buzzing.
“Oh shit, my mom’s here,” PJ rolls up the shirt and cleans up the markers she’s left sprawled on the floor. The two quickly walk downstairs and as PJ puts on her shoes she holds up their BFF necklace by the chain and points at Josie.
“We win.”
“We win.”
__
WATCH NEXT: WE FOUND ICE SPICE IN AMONG US?? HOW TO UNLOCK SECRET CHARACTER *NO HACKS NO MICROTRANSACTIONS*
carpetmunchers69 1,040 views 64 likes 120 dislikes
37 comments
pinned by carpetmunchers69
I tried it and it works!! Thank you for sharing ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️LIKED AND SUBSCRIBED
1 👍
when does it stop playing the ice spice edit and start the video
23 👍
this is fake
8 👍
__
Josie sits near the back of the classroom, resting her chin on her palm as she tuned out the lecture coming from her new math teacher. The desks are organized in pairs, and she recognizes most of the students sitting around her. The desk next to her remains empty since PJ was gleefully pulled out before class started by Mrs. Growsky for “inappropriate and obscene messages” on her shirt. The layout allows her to hide behind the girl in front of her, angling herself to be invisible from the whiteboard. The post-lunch drowsiness was starting to get to her, and she struggled to get her eyelids to stop drooping. Her arm suddenly gives out and she has to swing her head back up immediately, she blames the school macaroni. Josie tucks her face into her collar and leans her cheek on her hand, doing her best to make herself even less noticeable as she compromises with herself to just close her eyes for 1 minute. The murmur of instructions turns into white noise and she feels her consciousness begin to slip away once more, her head grows heavier and heavier. The weight is beginning to be too much for her hand to support and she feels it slip just as a voice cuts into her limbo state of mind.
“Do you want to be partners?”
Josie snaps her head up immediately, blinking deliriously at the girl who turned around in the seat in front of her. She has wavy brown hair, an almost auburn shade and her face is a warm, tinted peach and Josie is sure she’s never seen this girl before. She would definitely remember if she had.
Unfortunately, her brain doesn’t function fast enough and she responds with an incredibly intelligent-sounding “Wuh?” and the girl ineffectively suppresses her laugh, giggling for a second before repeating herself. Josie’s eyes refocus and she sees the beautiful splatter of freckles that paint her face.
“Mr. Reddy wants us to get into pairs for the activity,” She indicates at the similarly empty seat next to her.
“Um, yeah. Yeah,” Josie swallows, suddenly nervous, and takes a seat next to the girl, “I’m Josie, by the way.”
“I’m Isabel, I just moved here from Maryland over the summer,” Josie makes out her features slightly better now that they’re closer, and she can see the clumped mascara on Isabel’s eyelashes along, the patch of acne on her chin, the unblended spots of wrong shade concealer on her forehead and it’s enough to say that she has completely captivated Josie.
“Why’d you move?”
“My mom got a new job.”
“Oh. That sucks,” Josie imagines suddenly uprooting her life and having to go to a completely new school in a different state.
“Well, she makes a lot of money. We get groceries from Erewhon now.”
“Oh.” That sounds awful, Josie thinks to herself. Isabel is looking at her, surprised. Fuck, did she say that out loud?
“Yeah, it does suck,” Isabel admits, scrunching her nose cutely and grins at Josie. “I don’t get why any smoothie should be more than 12$.” Josie wants to shoot herself in a weird mix of embarrassment and infatuation, but thankfully Mr. Reddy walks by, passing a slip a paper and a small pouch of marbles onto their desk. They’re just demonstrating the probability of the marble being pulled out to be blue or red, and Isabel volunteers to write down the answers. So they sit there as Josie quietly grabs a handful of marbles as Isabel writes their names down on the paper, dotting her is with hearts.
“Who is that?” Isabel points her eraser at the picture of Naruto’s face on Josie’s torso when she fishes out a red marble.
“My cousin.” She has a sudden urge to rip her shirt off.
“Your cousin?”
“Yeah.” Isabel has green eyes. Josie is sweating. “He’s adopted. That’s why he’s blonde.” Blue marble.
“Is he famous?”
“No. He just makes shirts of himself and sends them to us during the holidays.” Red marble.
“Wait, are you serious?”
“No. I’m lying.” Josie pauses when Isabel snorts, a smile creeping on the chestnut-haired girl's face.
“You’re so weird.” Her heart does a backflip. The bell rings. Isabel picks up her backpack and is still biting back a smile. “Bye Josie.”
When Josie walks out of the classroom, PJ is already sitting outside waiting, her female orgasm shirt has been covered with a tight purple wool sweater supplied by lost and found.
“How was c-”
“Switch shirts with me.”
“What?” PJ looks at her best friend incredulously as she itches the collar. “Dude, I think someone threw up in this. It smells so fucking rancid.”
“Am I weird?” Josie thinks she’s hyperventilating.
“Is that rhetorical?” Even though her friend only stands 2 inches taller, PJ angles her head up to get a better view of her expression. “Yeah, you’re weird.”
Josie agrees. She is weird. Super weird.
__
After school, the two of them sit in the back of the computer lab where the Newspaper Club holds its weekly meetings. PJ nudges Josie hard when Stella-Rebecca walks in, showing off her newly straightened teeth. PJ drags her mouse around, slowly climbing the Agar.io scoreboard as the club president Hazel Callahan reads off the announcements from the teacher’s desk.
“Make sure you guys pay your club dues by next Tuesday or else you’ll be kicked out. We need some volunteers to cover some new articles so come up in a bit if you’re interested. I also have some bad news, I know Matthieu won the election to be Editor-In-Chief last Spring, but he decided to quit the club to participate in the Cheer team this year, so we will be holding fall elections in two weeks to decide our new Editor-In-Chief. Only 8th Graders can run, and remember you can’t bribe anyone, just submit your resume and Mr. G and I will decide the winner. That’s all.”
The room fills with chatter from the middle schoolers and clicking on keyboards as the club returns to work.
“That could be us,” PJ leans over, her eyes bright.
“Could be you , I’m already Treasurer, I don’t need more responsibilities,” Josie emotes a pushup in Moviestar Planet on her computer, pretending to go down on another female character lying down in the game. Concerningly, she was the only 8th grader who knew how to run Excel, which gave her the position by default. “And we need to make another video soon, you don’t have time to make a resume. Actually-” Josie pauses, “-can you even write?”
“Yes I can write, you read my 20-page Killing Eve WNBA AU.”
“It wasn’t that good,” Josie shrugs. “I was wondering if you could write anything other than lesbian fanfiction.”
“And besides! If I get in control of the newspaper, we can advertise our-”
“Advertise what?” Hazel stands curiously between the two girls. She’s wearing a pullover with cropped jeans, exposing her high-top converse. Josie immediately tabs out of her game and starts concentrating on keyboard smashing into cmd.exe. “I like your shirt,” she nods at PJ’s undersized, ugly fraying sweater. “Are you guys done with your article?”
“Yeah, I emailed it to you last night,” PJ and Josie had written a joint review on their movie marathon of Cate Blanchett’s entire filmography.
“Oh cool! I didn’t see it.” Hazel checks her inbox every hour. “Are you trying to run for Chief?”
“No.” PJ sizes up the brunette. “Are there a lot of people running?”
“I know Stella-Rebecca is. I think only one other person filled out the interest form too. You should run! It’d be fun to have you on the board.”
“Would I have to do anything… besides making a resume?”
“Just show up, which you guys already do. Help around more?” Hazel shrugs. “You can volunteer for our stand at the club fair.” The silence is palpable between the three girls and Hazel seems to take it as an opportunity to talk more, “I saw your guys’ video on Youtube Shorts the other day- really funny meme.”
Josie swivels around in her chair with concern, “The one about Liberals planting Estrogen into our microplastics to poison our water?”
“Yeah!”
__
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__
It’s a Wednesday morning before class starts, and Josie stands in the center of the school courtyard passing out the September edition of the school newspaper. Behind her, PJ inserts herself into random cliques of kids to take photos with the school-owned DSLR, passing a business card between each after snapping a few candid photos.
“Monthly Digest?” Josie offers to a boy who walks up to her, but he Orange-Justices instead and runs away laughing to his group of friends. She sighs and looks up at the bleak and clouded sky- she felt like a Victorian child slaving away for meager earnings- no person should ever have to be subjected to this type of public humiliation.
“Can I have one?”
Josie huffs and sticks out her armful of printed booklets, “You can have just have all-” She balks at the sight of Isabel, pink heart clips clasped in her hair, mustard Fjallraven Kanken slung over her shoulder, and looking straight at Josie. “Um, yeah. You can have one.” Josie becomes acutely aware of herself, her beat-up sneakers, dinky Spongebob logo pullover, and the new pimple that appeared on her forehead when she woke up this morning that probably makes her look like an idiot.
“Did you write anything?” Isabel leafs through the pages.
“Yeah! Me and PJ wrote the movie review column, you should give it a read.”
“That’s really cool that you guys do that, like for the community.”
“Yeah, well I try to stay really educated and informed about my surroundings,” Josie shrugs casually, “I’ve been watching a lot of Keemstar and DramaAlert.” Isabel hums in elevated agreement, not knowing what those two things are.
“Is that your cousin too?” She’s pointing at Josie's hoodie and her face turns florid.
“HAHA. No. NO. No, I am not related to Spongebob. But we have the same nose, if you look at it from the right angle,” She supplements, turning slightly to her right to mirror the yellow sponge’s pose.
“I think… I see it,” Isabel nods.
“Wait. Really?” Josie doesn’t know if she should be concerned or relieved that the bit landed. She doesn’t have time to hear an answer because she feels a kick to the back of her knees and she crumples onto the concrete beneath her, the newspapers under her arm flying across the courtyard. PJ steps over her limp body.
“Hi. I’m PJ. Libra. Actor. Editor. Talent Management. A jack of all trades.” She slips Isabel her business card, which is just their social media handles and PayPal scribbled onto the piece of cardstock with a thin sharpie. Josie struggles to regain her balance.
“Thanks! This paper feels really biodegradable,” Isabel does a small wave to Josie on the ground, “I’ll see you in Math.”
PJ watches the girl daintily walk away and kicks her friend again. “Isn’t all paper biodegradable?”
Josie groans unintelligibly from the floor.
__
PJ taps the clipboard in her hand impatiently outside the school’s gymnasium. She’s agreed to help Hazel interview some of the fall sports athletes for their new column in hopes of getting on the girl’s good graces.
“So what would you say is your favorite part of Rockerbridge?” She asks as Jeff flicks a piece of lint off his shirt.
“Probably lunch. I like eating,” he picks his nose with the same finger.
“A lot of students have strong opinions on our school cafeteria meals, would you like to comment on that?”
Jeff pauses, taking a moment to consider the question, it’s the most PJ has ever seen him think.
“I wish we served Baja Blasts instead of Coke. Can you make that happen?”
“Why do you say that?” It reels off monotone, she can’t help it.
“I feel calm looking at blue. No bright, screaming anger. No war. No fighting. Just blue.”
Displays bull-like tendencies, PJ jots down. She asks a few more general questions, which are returned with answers of similar low-level intelligence before she dismisses him back to class. She flips her page up and audibly groans when she sees who’s supposed to interview next. It takes fighting every nerve in her body to trek through the hallways and find her target.
“So Brittany, what would be your favorite part of school?” PJ asks joylessly, trying to keep up with the 5’6 13-year old in the mess of the passing period crowd. She’s wearing an outfit entirely supplied by Lululemon, and a 24-ounce coldest water bottle, her latest online sponsor.
“I love my friends!” The taller girl chirps, “Spending quality time with my loved ones is so important, especially in this day and age.” PJ rolls her eyes, this isn’t 73 questions with Vogue.
“Could you just, name three friends?” She asks dryly, “for reference.”
“Isabel!”
“She moved here last week?” PJ eyes her warily over her clipboard.
“My biggest strength is creating long-lasting connections instantaneously.”
“Okay, that’s one.”
“Isabel… my mom… Ian…”
“Ian who?” They don’t have an Ian in their grade.
“Reddy?”
“Our algebra teacher. You just named our algebra teacher as one of your friends.” Brittany is still mumbling names when Isabel struts by them, stopping at the locker right behind them.
“Hi Brittany! Hi PJ!” She smiles and pops her locker open, only for a sea of mice to spill out from inside.
“WHAT THE FUCK!??” PJ screams in horror as nearly a dozen of rodents scurry out of Isabel’s locker and through the hallway as more startled students jump out of the way.
“I don’t even remember putting those there,” Isabel says quizzically, before organizing her locker nonchalantly.
“Me and Ian are really close. He lets me hang out in his classroom after school on Fridays,” Brittany explains, as if considering an adult male teacher as a close friend was completely normal.
Are we mandated reporters? PJ scribbles onto her clipboard as a reminder to ask Hazel later.
“PJ do you think you could interview me next?” Isabel asks, permitting herself into the conversation.
“Uhh, this is only for fall sports,” PJ nods at the dance team insignia printed on Brittany’s duffel bag, before dismissing the athlete to her next class.
“I forage,” Isabel says matter-of-factly, “it’s the greatest fall sport nature provides us.”
PJ weighs her options and ultimately decides that another 5 minutes of her time is worth not getting on this nymph-like preteen’s bad side. “So what’s your favorite part of school?”
“Biology. I love animals, I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up. But I can make all my remedies with naturally grown and scavenged ingredients.”
PJ nods, doodling a picture of a stick figure of Isabel accidentally poisoning dogs with hallucinogens.
“Right, do you have any comments on the Biology curriculum at Rockerbridge?” Her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth as she adds red demonic eyes to the shroom-dealing veterinarian.
“I really wanted to dissect isopods for our next unit but Mr. G said no, do you think you could make that happen?” Her eyes sparkle dangerously.
“I’ve been known to cause miracles,” PJ shrugs, lying. “By the way, did you do the math homework for tomorrow? Do you think I could check my answers with yours?” She hasn’t even touched the homework.
“Couldn’t you ask Josie?”
“She thinks it's unethical, she’s a math tutor.” Josie hasn’t done the homework either.
“Is she really good?” Isabel’s expression fails to hide her curiosity.
“Super smart,” PJ gives an awkward thumbs up for emphasis. Isabel takes a second to process the information before beaming back at the brunette.
“I’ll send them to you later tonight!”
__
WATCH NEXT: MELTING EVERY TYPE OF SLIME AT DOLLAR TREE TOGETHER
carpetmunchers69 928 views 84 likes 13 dislikes
58 comments
holy shit that is a lot of slime
17 👍
There are 20 angels in this world. 10 are sleeping. 9 are playing. 1 is reading this. put this on 4 video comments within 15 mins,if u do, sum one u love will surprise u sum how!! If u don't, u will lose ur love.!!
3 👍
Heyy josie is this your youtube channel lol
- 5 replies
the video is so funny ur silly like the putty get it XD
Hi Isabel thx lol
I just got a new phone lol you should text me :) XXX-XXX-XXXX
oky
Josie I’m going to delete these comments this is really unprofessional -PJ
__
The Rockerbridge cafeteria clatters noisily as half its student body crams into the building for lunchtime. Josie spoons the thickened concoction of meatballs, gravy, and mashed potatoes into her mouth, trying to discern which ingredient was causing the weird sour taste on her tongue. Hazel sits next to her, multitasking between editing an article on her laptop and eating the grilled cheese sandwich in her hand. The rest of their friend group converse among themselves.
“You’re KIDDING me,” PJ yells from across the table, and all their friends barely flinch at the commonplace reaction.
“What happened?” Hazel is the only one who looks up from what she’s doing.
“Brittany’s going live on Instagram, she’s at McDonalds right now. This is so classist. What the fuck is the point of going 15 minutes away for food that's more expensive and shittier than the school cafeteria stuff. It's like she thinks she's better than us!”
“Why do you have her notifications on?” Josie wipes her mouth with a napkin, raising an eyebrow in tune.
“There are already 80 people watching. They’re watching her eat a Mcnugget. Fucking losers.” PJ says as she does the same thing.
“Just stop watching it,” Josie says obviously.
“Oh wait, your girlfriends in it.” PJ turns her screen around to show Josie. Brittany and Isabel are sitting in the dingy McDonalds booth, talking to the camera while munching on their Happy Meals. “Don’t worry I got you- Josie says hi,” She types into the chat.
“Whatwhatwhat DON’T do that?!” Josie stammers and tries to snatch PJ’s phone, but the shorter girl pulls it out of reach.
“Oh shit she’s reading it.” PJ passes her best friend the phone. On the 720p screen Josie watches as Isabel’s eyes scan the lower corner of the comments, mumbling them out to herself.
“
Do a backflip
… Here?” Isabel seems to consider seriously, “
Josie says hi
… Hi Josie!” Josie notices that she holds out the i for an extra second, but she doesn’t dwell on it, “
You’re so pretty
… Aww thank you!”
“I didn’t know you were dating Isabel,” Hazel adds in, “By the way do you guys still have extra PVC pipe from that video? I might need to borrow some for my art project.”
“No, it all got confiscated when we tried to test them out in my backyard. Apparently, it’s life-threatening and has people can die when you try to build a functioning bomb,” PJ scoffs as Josie hands her phone back.
“That’s what the government is trying to tell us. The blast radius for a nuclear bomb is actually only 6 feet,” Annie says matter-of-factly from the corner of the table. “I read about it online.”The comment leaves an air of concerned tension above the table.
“Are you vaccinated?” Josie asks, trying to remember if they’d already gone over this.
“Nuh-uh, I’m not putting that shit in my body,” Annie rolls her eyes. Everyone shifts their trays a few inches away from her.
“What are you guys doing for your next video?” Hazel changes the subject, closing her laptop.
“It’s a secret,” PJ hushes dismissively, “We’re filming over the weekend.”
“Can I come?” Hazel asks earnestly.
“Yeah, we need someone to film,” Josie nods and she feels PJ kick her under the table. The shorter girl does a neck-slicing motion with her hand and Josie shrugs indifferently as she gets up to put her tray away.
“It’s just that this is really professional, we have a really focused vision on how we want it to look, I just don’t want you to feel super pressured,” PJ supplements, casting glares at Josie’s backside, “it’s a lot of work filming and-”
“My mom can drive us.”
“-I’ll see you Saturday!” PJ shoots finger guns at the brunette.