Defense Mechanism
by Angela Griffen
beta: Twilight

Zeke is smart and you are dumb. Zeke is a fucking genius and you, Stokely Mitchell, have won yourself a ride to school on the short bus.

It's not like you don't know any better. You knew when to restrict yourself from the things you wanted, when to say, "No, Stokes, don't even try." You knew better than to open yourself up for the hurt and rejection that comes from the high school dating scene, so you threw up that wall of protection - pseudo-lesbianism. You didn't need the catty gossip, betrayal, and two-facedness of friendship and politics of Herrington High, so you just said "fuck you" to the world. Literally. And it worked. If you weren't happy in your existence then, at least you weren't miserable. Sure, you had the dream of the star-quarterback and the dream of having a confidant, but you knew better, knew you didn't really want the reality of those things.

Zeke was like you, so you stayed out of each other's way. He never fucked with you, and you never fucked with him, and it worked out nicely, even though you could tell that he just wasn't trying. You thought maybe he was afraid he'd get out of Herrington and go to college and find out he was dumb, or that people were boring, or that money was harder to make, and it was the same thing, his bad-boy routine was all in defense.

After the invasion, after you won, it was like you were high, hell, you probably still were high, and it felt like nothing could ever go wrong. Adrenaline had been pumping, and you had been fairly sure, in your own pessimistic brain, that fighting as hard as you might, you weren't going to win, so you'd let down your defenses and tried to get a tiny sliver of what you wanted; it wasn't like there'd be enough time for things to go sour in any way you didn't already expect them to.

Surviving, therefore, had turned out to be something of a problem, because, see, you got the star quarterback, even if he was somehow trying to be an academic, normal, studious kid, and once you had him, you weren't quite sure what it was you were supposed to do with him. So you tried to be normal, and you tried to enjoy it, and you tried to pretend that, yes, everything was hunky-frickin'-dory, and that you and Stan were blissfully in like or love or lust or something. And it lasted for all of about three months, until the honeymoon period was over, and he remembered that, yeah, Stokely was this weird chick who liked eyeliner a lot and did this bizarre thing called "reading." It lasted until he remembered that he liked girls with perfect bodies and perfect makeup and little bitty miniskirts with legs that went on forever. At least he had the decency to tell you before he did anything, to tell you that it wasn't working, that he didn't want to cheat on you and that you were great as a friend but it wasn't working out.

And it's not exactly like you weren't getting bored as well, because adorable and charming as the boy may be, he's, admittedly, dumb as a rock, and every once in a while you like to have conversations about things that you've read, or broad, deep ideas you've been struck with late at night, and Stan just... wasn't that. As much as the you before, the you who'd had dreams with no interference of reality, had been able to pretend that under the school colors, Stan had been roughly intelligent, deep without the big words and the book-smarts, when faced with spending hours with the real thing, the fantasy crumbled, and he was nothing more than a charming smile and a nice kisser.

So you opened yourself up to that, the hurt, because you'd been high on camaraderie and hope and adrenaline, and what you really were was an idiot.

You're not as bad off as Casey, who managed to last all of six weeks before Delilah remembered that Casey wasn't a senior or an athlete, and that he mostly just sat around and took pictures, or talked about his silly theories, which were pretty fascinating, but weren't exactly the sort of gossipy entertainment that Delilah's type goes for. She gathered her wits and her sense of style, and managed to have a three week fling with Gabe before Casey ever caught a hint of what was going on.

And so, things remain the same, you and Casey, sci-fi nerds, the kids with brains, the people with feelings, remain hurt and on the outside, and Delilah and Stan, the beautiful people, get to live inside the circle of high school fame and stand on that pedestal of love and affection.

You've been on the inside of that circle, even if it was only for a few months, and it isn't what it's cracked up to be either. You were still bored on Friday nights, and you still felt ugly most of the time, even when Stan told you that you weren't (although you're still pretty sure he was lying), and it's not like having people acknowledge you beyond calling you a "fucking dyke" really improved your life that much.

You spent most of basketball season with Stan, and now that he's gone, dating some leggy blonde who was probably Delilah's best friend in September, nothing's changed except that your defenses and your dreams are gone. You are stupid.

Zeke is smart.

It's hard to explain what Zeke did right, really, because you're not sure you totally understand it at all. It is, after all, Zeke, whom no one really understands, but you think you get it more than anyone else but him probably does.

You're not sure how to explain what you saw, but the night Casey killed the queen, and everything went back to normal, it was just like a pile of hugging, everyone folding arms around each other and so happy that you were alive and you saved the world, and everything was just full of hope and beauty and all that huggy hippie shit. You were pretty sure Casey was still tweaking out of his mind, and he finally just broke down, and there was this moment where you saw everything written on their faces, this moment full of what probably should have been.

They had somehow forged some sort of friendship, an actual one, not these fake almost-friendship Breakfast Club things that the rest of us got, but they had something real. They had something that was like "yo, you saved my back," and "hey, you're pretty fucking cool," and "I think I understand you." And there was this moment, just a second, a flash, where you could have sworn you saw the press of lips to the other's temple, and the press of splayed fingers against the cloth of tee-shirt over a bony shoulder turning into a grip that said "I'm not letting you go," and it nearly blew your mind because that just didn't make sense. It didn't make sense because too many people thought that about Casey for it to be true, and nobody dared think it about Zeke. You weren't sure what was going to happen for a few days after, weren't sure if when you saw Casey with Delilah if it was the truth or if it was some sort of elaborate cover-up.

Now you know that it only means that Zeke is smart. He knew what he should have, what was good for him and what was bad, and you're pretty sure he knew that Casey would only bring the pain that Stan brought to you: the trying, the effort, the miscommunication. Theirs would come with other parts like Casey's parents, and the disapproval of the school, and a million other things you can hardly imagine.

Zeke knew better, and he took what was good, what he didn't care about enough. He did what you've both been doing for years, he dumbed himself down, failed a test, subtly let people know he was a lesbian. Zeke went into defense mechanism mode.

He's sleeping with Miss Burke, which should creep you out, which creeps Casey out, which was probably the point. There's probably something he's getting out of that, maybe graduating high school, maybe some sterling recommendations to somewhere that's not Ohio. Zeke's on the football team, which isn't anything other than another way into power, a way to pretend to people that something changed, but he's still Zeke. He's still a loner, not really a part of anyone, and he's still smart enough to ace every test he makes a B on, which you'll never understand.

He's still Zeke, so he's smart enough to remember to keep the façade, smart enough to never let down his guard, and smart enough to never even try for what he truly wants.

You always enjoyed being a pessimist because you were never disappointed and once in a while you were pleasantly surprised, but once you tried optimism for a week or so, it kind of stuck, and now you can't help thinking the happy shiny thoughts first before you remember that the world isn't like that, and that you need to be realistic. Zeke kept his pessimism, and he keeps on surviving, no different than he was before.

And that's why Zeke is smart.

And that is why you are dumb.

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