Chapter 10

A/N: Planning to update the blurb today to better reflect the actual story contents. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and keep those reviews coming! On a slightly more sombre note, the content of this and some future chapters delve into sensitive subject matter, including LGBTQ+ related bullying and the occasional homophobic slur. If you're seriously negatively affected by these issues, consider this your content warning. (I'm actually LGBTQ+ myself and, while I thankfully haven't been bullied for it, hope to represent the struggles of people like me accurately and humanely.)

If you asked Alicia what she was really, really good at, she could give you three answers. The first, of course, was dance; she could dance like nobody else at OCD, though nevertheless she was secretly glad that Skye Hamilton had gone… somewhere for high school. A dance academy in California, it was rumoured. The second was the maintenance of power, and all that that entailed: the weekly manicures, the workouts, buying the right push-up underwear. But her favourite of the three, and the only one which didn't feel like work anymore, was her job as presenter of OCD's morning news show. While the others were more like obligations, skipping out on homeroom to do something she'd always loved (there were embarrassing home movies she'd had to keep her parents from showing her friends) was something she enjoyed in a new way every Friday.

"We ready?" Bridgette-The-Techie was sweating on the other side of the mics; her coarse dark hair was gently sticking to her forehead even as she swept it back with her hands, and she chewed nervously on the long sleeves of her T-shirt. Alicia held back a grimace and sipped on her latte; she'd never dream of being not only late, but so obviously flustered about it. The business they were in demanded a professionalism she'd never really seen from the smaller girl.

"Given." She rolled her eyes, regulated her breathing and made sure her headset was on properly. She always wore her hair up on days like these to avoid headphone-hair. "Are we gonna start recording?"

"In 3… 2… 1…" Bridgette made a swiping motion downwards with her hands and pressed a big button. Alicia shut her eyes for a moment, imagining the hundreds of girls who would be listening to her talk right now and the legions who would listen in the future. High school, here I come.

"Good morning, Octavian Country Day, and welcome to OCD News. Today's top story: did a good cause go too far on Thursday last week, when Principal Burns found her personal property in danger?

"A protest organised by several eighth-grade students, among them known activist Layne Abeley, ended with several girls being sent home after they joined hands in a ring around the principal's car and threatened to throw eggs on its exterior unless the cafeteria provided free-range eggs in its recipes in the future." Under normal circumstances, Alicia would probably be giggling at this stunt with the rest of the PC – from a safe distance, of course – but she sure as hell wasn't here to corpse. She looked straight ahead at the autocue and focused on the gentle rolling of the screen, regulating her breathing once again. "Staff and even some students have suggested that this was an overreaction that should be dealt with by issuing disciplinary action to the ringleaders, while others point out that no property was actually damaged and cite students' right to demonstration over important sociopolitical topics."

Bridgette pressed another button, cutting away to a pre-recorded interview with Layme about the protest; Alicia had already listened to it all the way through and pretty much memorised it. In the background, some of the losers in the grade would still be chanting, while the ultimate loser stood in front of them and talked breathlessly about her "inviolable right to protest". She'd never get the respect she wanted like that – the trick was to avoid looking like you cared or, in extreme circumstances, just give people what they thought they wanted. She re-crossed her legs and prepared to start speaking again.

"More on this story after the OCD sports fixtures for this week." The list of wins, draws and occasional losses meant pretty much nothing to Alicia herself, but she knew Kristen would be trying to hide a proud smile when she was named MVP twice in so many weeks. That girl kept her soccer uniform cleaner and better-ironed than many of the clothes she wore to school. Nevertheless, what Alicia did know was that OCD's sports games could serve an important social function, since A- and B-listers usually mingled there to boy-watch once every few weeks. There would be girls listening right now making frantic mental notes of when the next matches would be, and with whom.

"Once again, OCD, this has been Alicia Rivera. Have a great day, and remember: I heart you!" Was the sign-off getting old? She wasn't sure if the sign-off was getting old.

"Great show, Alicia." Bridgette was very obviously making an effort to look nonchalant, not making eye contact while she slid folders into her pin-covered backpack.

"Thanks. And thanks for the coffee. Would you mind getting coffee before shows from now on? It saves so much time, provided everyone's ready to broadcast for eight."

"Sure. Sorry."

"What are you apologising for?"

"N-nothing." Bridgette made all sorts of hilarious expressions with her eyebrows while she tried to extricate herself from the topic. There was an awkward silence which felt even more awkward than normal. "Hey – do you mind if I tell you something kinda weird?"

That's pretty much all you ever do. "Sure, I guess."

Alicia had seen Bridgette-The-Techie nervous before – she pretty much spent her entire life looking like she was frantically worried about something – but she'd never seen the techie's lips actually go paler before her eyes. This was either going to be awkward or entertaining, and she decided to stick around to see which it would be.

"You know how lots of guys like you?"

"Of course I do." Alicia was wondering if she was going to be asked for style tips, because frankly there was no saving that face and hair. She took a breath to explain this in the sweetest way she could when Bridgette blurted out her next sentence.

"How would you feel if, for example, another girl liked you in the same way?"

"What, like as in having people look up to you, or as in a girl being gay for me?"

"The… the latter." Bridgette's ears had gone red and she was looking down at her bright blue shoes. It took a couple more seconds for Alicia to actually understand what she was saying. Even though she didn't care, who the hell would reveal that in a room literally full of microphones, in front of the gossip queen of OCD?

"I mean. I'm nawt gay." Alicia giggled, and suddenly thought of a way she could make this even more entertaining than it already was. She leant closer to Bridgette very gently and took her hand, ignoring its clamminess, from her mouth, which was engaged in chewing her sleeves again. The techie's muscles were stiff and rigid, like she'd been dead for a couple hours. "But that would totally be okay. Okay?"

"Okay." Bridgette looked up at Alicia. She looked like she was going to cry; Alicia had seen that same puce outline of the eyes on pre-tears Massie and Claire before. Alicia's darker skin tended to hide the evidence. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"I promise." Alicia leant even closer and pulled Bridgette into a bear hug, making sure the scrawny little techie's face was pushed into her neck where she'd applied perfume that morning. She counted out the seconds, looking at the wall, until it was over and Bridgette basically bolted out of the room, nearly forgetting her cellphone. Alicia turned around, no longer able to hide the huge grin on her face, and texted Massie, who would be in physics and looking for something fun.

ALICIA: I HAVE SOMETHING 4 U.

MASSIE: HOW MANY POINTS?

ALICIA. 20. MORE. MAYB LIKE 100?

That would keep them all waiting until the sleepover.