Pride and Envy: A Pretty in Pink Story
Steff rarely ever went to class. He was in the habit of strolling around the empty halls, enjoying the sound of his slippers hitting the worn linoleum tiles. His hands were shoved resolutely into his deep pockets, his shoulder pads jutting out powerfully as he slinked up and down the halls as though he owned them.
Today he was wearing a light grey suit over a creamy white shirt and pants. It was a light flannel number, especially good for the spring. He liked to look his best. That was why he always made sure to blow dry his hair until it was feather-light and as soft as bird down.
As he walked outside several minutes before the bell rang to end the school day, he slipped on a pair of sunglasses and lit a cigarette. The breeze caressed his skin, sending ripples across his suit as he crossed the parking lot. His soft hair billowed like willow branches. He meandered over to his car and got inside, leaving the door open. It was better like this. Just then, as it got truly quiet and the vernal breeze filled the parking lot, he began contemplating things.
In just one short month, he would be graduating. As he considered this, he felt a small and unexpected twinge of sadness. He certainly wouldn't miss this pathetic place, so that couldn't be why. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that soon he would be off to Yale, to follow in his much-respected father's successful footsteps, to throw in his lot with the rest of the corporate heirs. There, he would mingle with the progeny of Wall Street, the future gentry of Washington, and innumerable girls from the good families of Boston.
He did not resent his fate, but he did not welcome it, either. He was as apathetic about going off to Yale as he was about everything – high school, his friends, his girlfriend. It all got mixed up in his mind until it was nothing but a haze made up of faces, hallways, and house parties. They meant nothing to him.
The bell rang just as he finished his cigarette. He dropped it onto the pavement, watching as the snowy ash scattered.
Students were rushing out of the building now. Eager faces all milling around, excited for the weekend. A claque of Steff's friends soon congregated next to his car. He muttered something noncommittal to acknowledge their presence, but was soon staring transfixed into the rear view mirror, watching the pink car that was parked behind his, waiting for its owner to show herself. His heartbeat had quickened just a little from the anticipation, but his exterior remained unruffled.
"Hey, Steff!" One of his friends said.
"What?"
"Your folks are going to Paris in two weeks, right?"
"Yeah."
"What do you say? Party at your place?"
"Sure, whatever," Steff muttered, at which point his friend promised that it would be a wild party and went back to talking to the others.
Finally, Steff caught sight of Andie in the rear view mirror. It was difficult to miss her. She always wore the most ridiculous ensembles of anyone in the entire school. Cheap clothes from thrift stores, or worse – made by her own hand. She had no concept of grace, save for whatever misguided commoner's idea of style she clung to. He regarded her with a combination of contempt and pity.
He knew about her and her sort: ceaselessly striving to get out of the domestic squalor, to grab hold of any lifeline she could before her chance to escape her blue-collar life passed her by. But she was smart – he knew that too. Perhaps one of the only truly smart girls in a school full of sluts.
He muttered some hasty parting words to his friends, not even looking at them as he made the decisive move out of his car and toward Andie, though he could not explain why. He had made advances to her before, each one of them rejected. Sheepishly rejected on freshman year, angrily sophomore year, exasperatedly junior year, and finally with a bitter honest sting this year.
He supposed it was just his habit. Girls generally didn't refuse him. He could be very charming when he wanted to be, and the giggling morons didn't stand a chance when he trotted out his pick-up lines for them. Andie, however, never giggled and never took him seriously for even a minute. It was immensely frustrating. He wasn't used to rejection, and he didn't like it.
He caught up to Andie just as she was about to get into her car.
"Oh, Andie, you look ravishing," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
She paid him no attention. He leaned against the door. He hoped the old car wouldn't dirty his suit, but just at this moment, he was allowing a small crack to form in his cool demeanor. This was just a little bit desperate, and he knew that. He just hoped that Andie wouldn't realize it.
"So we graduate in a month," he continued. "Now, I want to know when it is that you and I are gonna get together and do something."
He knew he was just skirting the edge of outright crudeness. He knew Andie would regard it as what it was: a pointless display.
"Try never," Andie replied in an emotionless monotone voice.
"Well, I'm talking about more than sex here," Steff insisted. He had spouted off this particular line so often that the lie no longer had any conviction. It sounded hollow even to his own ears.
"No, you're not," Andie said with blatant contempt – Steff had a feeling it wasn't so much because she knew he was lying, but because of how little effort he had put into it.
He suddenly felt something wretched and uncomfortable rising up in his chest. A squeezing, frustrating feeling. He wanted Andie to say something, anything that wasn't just flat-out rejection. He wanted her to look at him. Maybe not as a real person, but as somebody, at least.
"You know, I've liked you for four years, and you treat me like shit, you know," Steff said, a subdued tantrum making its way into his voice. "I don't understand that. What's your problem?"
"Can you get off of my car?" Andie ignored him.
The squeezing, uncomfortable feeling was getting worse. Steff was becoming angry. He knew it was all pointless, of course, but if he could just get a rise out of her...
"You know, I've been out with a lot of girls at this school. I don't see what makes you so different." He was certain that would get to her.
"I have some taste," she retorted without even pausing for thought.
What a joke. Steff pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and drew one out with his teeth – a gesture he had practiced in the mirror many times.
He was certain that he saw something change in her face for a split second as she saw him maneuver the cigarette with his lips and clamp it loosely between his teeth. He knew how he looked doing that, and he was pleased that she had noticed.
"You're a bitch," he remarked in one final attempt to get a reaction. But there wasn't one.
He began to walk off, then turned around for one last jab at her pride.
"You know, I think you ought to see a doctor, 'cause that condition of yours could get a lot worse," he sniped.
Andie said nothing. She merely looked at him through her large round glasses, mouth slightly open in disbelief. Steff got back into his own car and slammed the door shut. His friends had all gone off, leaving him alone.
He saw Andie get into her car in his rear view mirror. He could see her sit still for a moment, her face ever-so-slightly perturbed. He relished the little victory. It was not much, but it was something. He had managed to make a little dent in that proletarian armor after all.
With that, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove off.
Andie sat alone in her car for a few minutes after Steff had left. She had gotten through another day. It would all be over soon, if only she could just hold on a little longer. People like Steff didn't make it easy for her.
When he had started to pester her during her freshman year, she had been sure it had just been a mean joke. Now, she didn't know why he did it. Did he really want her to say yes? She considered how easy it would be to just swallow her pride and go out with him.
Before, she might have been naïve enough to think it would involve a trip to a five-star French restaurant and a courtly ride home, but now she knew it would probably turn out to be some indiscriminate booze in the backseat of his BMW, followed by clumsy inebriated sex. It was an experience she could do without.
Despite everything, she had to admit that Steff was charming in a way that was utterly despicable. She saw him lingering in the hallways sometimes, looking like a self-assured house cat that had caught a mouse. She knew he had skipped more classes than he had attended, but he got away with it. That was all on account of his rich parents. Whenever Steff's name drew too much unwanted attention from the principal, they would just come in and write a check.
It was unfair, but Andie had long since accepted the world for what it was. People like Steff didn't need to worry about high school. People like her, however, had to scrabble and crawl after every meager test score if they had any hope of a real future.
Andie started her car and pulled out of the parking lot. She was going to be late for work if she stayed sitting like this for too long.
As she drove, she continued to think. She knew all too well what awaited her if she messed up in school. She'd seen it happen to her father. She hated coming home and finding him sprawled on the sofa in his robe and slippers, indolently watching the television, seeing nothing. He had been a wreck ever since Andie's mother had left them.
Since then, Andie's life had become one long schedule. Her days were distended by incessant work of one kind or another. She had been busy every day for four years, and she couldn't wait for it all to amount to something. What made her angry were people like Steff who just got in her way. Or Duckie, who seemed intent on dragging her down into the squalor with him.
As she drove past all the big houses, she was filled with a mixture of envy and self-pity. Even when the sight of the elegant neighborhoods filled her with hope, the same sight belittled her. She felt grubby in the presence of these houses. No matter how much she tried to look the part, she would never acquire the unmistakable glamour that came from having money.
Every outfit she made was just a pale echo of the clothes she saw in stores, yet she could not deny that the methodical process of producing her own clothing was soothing. When she was comparing different fabrics or sitting at her sewing machine, she forgot everything. How her mother had abandoned her, how her father was spending more time sleeping and watching TV than working, how people like Steff made her feel, and all the rest of the miserable details that were heaped over each other.
When Andie arrived at the record store where she worked, she took her place at the cash register and began to stare off into space.
Then, as if the day needed to get worse, Steff walked in.
No, Andie thought. Not here.
When he noticed her, he smiled and walked up to the cash register. He leaned forward. Andie noticed that he had a cigarette tucked behind his ear.
"So this is where you work," Steff smirked.
"Can I help you?" Andie asked, refusing to show any weakness. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
"I just came in here to look for the new Madonna record," Steff said, although it was clear he was lying.
"We don't have it," Andie said, although she didn't know if that was true.
"Are you sure?" Steff asked. "Can you check for me?"
Andie alighted from her chair and went to the New Records shelf. Anything to put some distance between her and Steff.
She flipped through the records with some haste, and eventually said,
"We don't have it."
"You know, I'm throwing a party on the eighteenth," Steff said, sauntering up to her. "You can even come if you agree to put on something half decent."
"No thank you," Andie snapped.
"Are you sure? It's going to be the last party before graduation. We're never going to see each other again," he said.
Good, Andie thought.
"Still no?" Steff asked.
Why was he doing this? Did he really want her to come to his stupid party? Andie went back to her place behind the cash register.
"Suit yourself," Steff shrugged, and left the store.
What had all that been about? He had called her a bitch just two hours ago, and now he was inviting her to a party? Andie decided to chalk it up to the fact that Steff was just messing with her. Trying to see if he could undermine her in some way.
A week later, Steff saw Blaine talking to Andie. He had known Blaine since they were both kids. He knew Blaine's parents, too. He also knew their liquor cabinet fairly well, but that was beside the point. It was no mystery why Blaine had suddenly decided to talk to her. He had sensed that he was getting antsy before graduation, and that he would try something fairly soon. He had assumed that it would be tamer than this, of course. For Blaine, this was almost too bold.
Blaine had always been a sniveling adolescent to him. The kind of guy who would grow up to go to his psychiatrist's office on his lunch break, before going back to the office and feeling sorry for himself. It was all because of his parents – that much Steff had to admit. If Blaine had grown up with people who loved and supported him, he might have been somebody else. But after a lifetime of having every dream and hobby ruthlessly analyzed and dismantled, he was a mere stripling inside.
Steff cornered Blaine in the hallway and asked him about Andie. Blaine did his usual innocent routine, and it was clear that he was entertaining delusions again. Steff saw clearly how the entire thing would end. Blaine would receive the full treatment from his parents, and Andie would have to skulk back into the gutter, never to forget her brush with wealth. It was all too pathetic to be allowed to continue.
Andie was just getting ready to go home from work when she saw Steff come into the store out of the corner of her eye. She whipped around with the most scornful look she could muster. If he had come to ask her to his party again, she knew exactly what to say.
"So I hear you're going out with Blaine," he said, catching her off guard.
"That's none of your business," Andie snapped.
"Actually, it is. Blaine is my friend, and I don't want to see him do this to himself."
"Is it because he has money and I don't?"
Steff paused and stared Andie in the eye.
"You can't be this naïve," he said.
Andie wanted to say something back, but she knew that Steff was right.
"You're a smart girl. So do what smart girls do and call it off," he said patronizingly, before dragging another cigarette out of the pack with his teeth.
In that moment, Andie could almost see the person Steff would become. His path had been set for him the very day he had been born, and there had never been a day in his life when it was possible for him to become something else. In ten years, this conversation would never have happened for him. It was only because the two of them were still young that they could find even the smallest bit of common ground.
"I don't have to do anything," Andie insisted.
"Suit yourself," Steff frowned. "But when Blaine dumps you, don't say I didn't warn you."
"He's not like that," Andie argued – something that shocked her. She knew better than to argue with Steff.
"What do you really know about him?" Steff took the cigarette out of his mouth and stuck it behind his ear. "I've known him all my life. You barely talked to him."
"I know he's a damn side nicer than you, for one," Andie snapped.
"His parents would crucify him if they knew he was going out with you," Steff said. "You're his experiment. His piece of low-grade ass before he graduates."
"Well you'd know all about that, wouldn't you," Andie said bitterly.
"I do, as it happens. And you should thank me for telling you, so you have a chance to rescue yourself," Steff said angrily.
There was a moment of silence between them. Andie knew better than to believe a word he said, but her own pragmatism had been nagging at her since Blaine had asked her out. It was less a question of whether he really did like her, and more a question of whether he liked her enough to turn the rest of his life upside down.
"Blaine isn't going to save you," Steff said. "You're both wasting your time."
Andie refused to say anything else. If Steff believed for a second that she would listen to him, he was mistaken.
Suddenly Steff stepped closer to her and lowered his face to hers. Before Andie could back away or ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, he kissed her without the slightest provocation. He didn't taste of cigarettes or booze, like she would have expected. Rather surprisingly, his mouth was minty fresh.
She jerked away and promptly slapped him hard across the face. He stumbled back, his hair falling over his eyes. Even as he massaged the cheek that had taken the hit, he grinned triumphantly at her.
"You're a pig," she spat.
"I like you, Andie," he said.
"Go to hell!"
With a lazy smile, Steff slowly walked out, leaving Andie alone to burn hot with shame. It took her a moment to calm down. His lips had been so soft. Why the hell had he done that? He must have known she would retaliate, or he was the stupidest person she had ever met.
Even if he was right about Blaine, she didn't care. She would never call it off. If only to make Steff angry. She wanted so much to find him and hit him again, and to keep hitting him for all the times he had carelessly stepped down from his cloud to send her mind reeling in turmoil.
That said, he was the only one who had ever kissed her like that. The only one who had ever had enough guts or audacity to do so. She wished it had been Blaine instead. Even Duckie. Anyone but Steff.
She wondered if he had gone off to tell all his horrible friends about her. They were all probably sitting in his car right now, laughing about it. With gritted teeth, she gathered up her things and locked up the store.
As she drove home, she wondered if Blaine would ever find out. If Steff tried to make it seem like Andie had initiated it, it would be fairly easy for her to deny it. Steff just wanted to ruin her life. That was all it was. Nothing more. She would be happy when she never had to see him again.
Steff's pulse was still thumping. He was proud of himself for finally having done something. At least now he could forget her. He could finally see her for the trash she was. He was certain that nothing he had told her about Blaine had made any difference, but he had never really thought that anything he said would change her mind.
He lit a cigarette as he sat in his driveway. Soon, all this would be his past. He just had one last party to throw. Then a quick appearance at prom, a forgettable night of passion with his girlfriend, and then he was going to Yale, where the whole thing would start over again.