On a warm autumn evening, in the far corner of a California public library, the secrets of the universe revealed themselves. Or, they tried to, at least.
As Marcy made a connection between the size of a star and its gravitational pull, the clicking of a mechanical pen drubbed her ear. When she grasped the brilliance of the cosmic life cycle, metal raked against paper. Before she even dared to dip her toe into the formation of nebulae, a dress shoe tapped out the rhythm of a pop song.
The noise was simply unworkable. Marcy closed her astronomy text, and turned to her "study buddy."
"Sash, are you bored?"
Surprise lit up Sasha's eyes, and for a moment her leaned-back chair wobbled on its hind legs. She was gifted with dexterity, though, so her teetering ended as quickly as her shock. Would that everyone could be so coordinated.
Sasha popped a pink earbud from her ear, and let the tones of a pop punk ballad spill out into the world. "Did you say something, Mar-mar?" she asked, at a not-quite-library-appropriate volume.
"I just asked if you were bored. It seems like you finished, uh... studying a while ago." Truthfully, Marcy felt generous for implying she had ever started.
She glanced down at their shared table, and sighed. Her own station was nowhere near neat, bedecked as it was in old dusty books, and covered in scattered note pages. Sasha's, though, was a bright neon disaster area. To her credit, she did have a textbook open, but it was buried under several teen magazines. She had a notebook open too, but instead of notes she had elected to fill it with heart, sword and diamond motifs. Marcy could even see a few bits of anime fanart, etched near the bottom of the page in pretty pink ink. She tried not to let her eyes linger on one particular sketch, lest she explode.
Empty soda bottles rattled, as Sasha thunked her chair onto all four legs. "Oh no," she said "I'm fine. Just taking a little break... I've got uh," she clicked her tongue as she nudged a few boy band almanacs out of the way, to reveal the book beneath, "uh math on lock. No need to overwork myself."
Marcy nodded, silently. She had always admired that quality of Sasha's: the ability to lie so confidently in the face of the truth. Before she could formulate a response, though, Sasha went on.
"I'm not bothering you, am I?" Measured vulnerability leaked into her voice. "I can leave, if you want."
Marcy's hands shot up to bat away the notion. "No, nono!" she stammered. "That's not what I was getting at, it's just-"
"Good!" Sasha declared. And, that was the end of that. Once again she leaned back, and kicked a foot up on the table for balance. "So what are you working on, anyway?" She flicked a shiny nail at Marcy's book. "That doesn't look like a school textbook."
"Oh no, it's not," said Marcy. She looked down at the book, titled Star Stuff, and snorted. "You could say it's extracurricular." While the girl giggled to herself, her companion arched an eyebrow, and asked a silent question. "Astronomy's one of my weaker sciences," the scholar explained, "and I'm trying to punch up on it. The SAT has been casting a wider net in the science department, and I want to be ready."
Sasha's confusion only deepened, until finally her question grew audible. "Marcy, you know we don't take that for like, five years, right? Isn't that overkill?"
"Four and a half years, actually," Marcy reported. "And, it's never too early to start preparing," she recited. "We're expecting a top percentile result."
Sasha digested the answer, for a moment. The bewilderment never left her eyes, but something soft crept onto her lips. "Mar-mar, I think you're going to ace that stupid thing whether you waste a night reading about stars or not."
The faintest pink tinged Marcy's cheeks, and she scratched the back of her neck. "Well, you don't really ace-" she mumbled, before she caught herself. "I mean, thanks Sash." Sasha nodded, and Marcy relaxed, ever so slightly. "But, I just want to be sure. And this stuff is kind of interesting to study, in its own right."
"Pfft, could have fooled me," snickered Sasha, as she reached for her backpack. "Reading about space crud is like the most boring thing you could be doing on a Friday night."
"It's really not bad," Marcy said, "the mechanics of space are fascinating, and..." She knew her words were falling on deaf ears. After a moment of silence, though, the girl thought of a new approach. "Studying stars used to be a lot cooler in the past, though. It used to be, like, the most important science there was... even if it was closer to magic back then. You know, astrology."
Sasha nodded along politely as she searched through her things. Really, that was all Marcy could ask for.
"Back then, they thought the stars had all kinds of meanings," with all the awe and showmanship she could muster. "Whatever stars were highest in the sky when you were born were supposed to say all these things about you: who you would be, what you would want, your fate, basically." As hokey as the ideas were, they filled Marcy with a distant sense of wonderment as she gave them voice. "That's why Romeo and Juliet are always called 'star-crossed lovers,' you know. They were fated from birth to never be able to-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Marcy," Sasha cut in. "Stars used to be all magic and romantic and stuff," she said, twiddling her fingers for effect. Marcy noticed, then, that her friend had produced a number of brightly colored vials of nail polish. The blonde rolled her wrist, and continued "And then some killjoy in a labcoat figured out they were just balls of gas, and they didn't mean anything."
Marcy snortled, despite her abject failure. "Well, there were some intermediary steps... and stars are more like perpetual explosions than gas balls, but... yeah that's basically what happened."
Sasha didn't answer. It was no shock; The girl had a habit of drifting out of conversations she found too dry. At least Marcy had given it her best shot.
Instead of talking about fateful stars, the blonde weighed the merits of three glossy finalists. Currently, her nails were an eye-catching shade of hot pink. But, apparently she was ready for a change. In her palm, she examined three vials, of emerald, and cyan, and glitter-laced gold.
She bumped off the green first, setting it down among the other rejects. It was in good company, nestled among soda bottles and printed K-Pop hunks with every other color of the acrylic rainbow.
Sasha's brow furrowed in concentration, then. She shifted the little bottles in her palm, turned them over and squinted at them. She tilted her hand as if to weight them, and finally she clutched them together, and thought. After a moment of sheer suspense, she finally muttered "Sometimes you've just got to be tacky," and she unclenched her fist.
She set the blue vial aside, and held onto the gold. It was only after she had rooted through her backpack and produced a bottle of acetone that Marcy finally found her voice.
"Sasha, I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to paint your nails in here," she declared. She was also pretty sure Sasha wasn't allowed to drink soda, or rock back in the chairs, or put her feet on the furniture, but the line had to be drawn at chemicals.
"Hm?" the blonde wondered, with a quirk of her eyebrow. "Oh, pfft, I'll be fine," she assured, with a wave of her hand. "As long as I do it quietly, right?"
"I don't think that's how it works, Sash," Marcy said, to no avail. "I really don't think you, uh..." she tried, but her concerns were waved off. Sasha shook her bottle of nail polish remover, unperturbed.
The library's favorite patron sighed. Sasha had been tempting fate all night with her raucous behavior, and so far fortune had favored her boldness. But, the sharp pervasive smell of acetone in the otherwise stale air was sure to catch someone's attention. Marcy wondered what her fate would be, if she were caught harboring a rule breaker. She could hardly fathom the indignity of being asked to leave.
She furrowed with worry, and nibbled at the inside of her cheek. Honestly, Sasha acted as if she hadn't even read the library's rules before she'd sat down. Tonight was the first night Marcy had even seen Sasha in a library, and if they stayed the same course, it could be the last... and then a thought struck.
"Hey Sasha, why did you decide to come here, anyway?" Marcy piped up. "You said you wanted to study, but you obviously have uh, math on lock."
That was enough to get the other girl's attention. Her eyes widened for a scant second, and she set down her bottle. "Guess you caught me, huh?" She scratched at her jaw, and looked up towards the ceiling. When her eyes came back down, they fixed on Marcy's, and she quirked a little smile. "I just wanted to hang out, Mar-mar. I figured these after-school study sessions you pull must get lonely, sometimes. I thought maybe they'd be better with company."
"Oh," slipped out from between Marcy's lips before she could catch it. It was her only word, for a moment. The corners of her eyes pricked, and a warm feeling washed the worry from her mind. A grin wobbled onto her lips, and she remembered her words. "I... that's... you..." And then she remembered her syntax. "Thanks Sasha. That's... well, I appreciate it."
If all her stumbling was a bother, Sasha didn't show it. She beamed a smile back at her clumsy friend, and a for a moment a warm, amicable silence hung.
Eventually, though, Marcy realized the nail supplies were still out. And, the iron was hot.
"If you just want to hang out, why don't I check these books out, so we can go to your place?" she asked. "The AC's better there, and if you want to paint your nails or carve on the tables it won't be a uh, misdemeanor."
Sasha glanced down at the underside of the table, and blushed. Marcy could only imagine whose name she was looking at, with a possible note on where they had been. The cheerleader scooted herself closer to the edge of the table, and looked down at her notebook. She twiddled with a stray lock of hair, and said "I'm actually kind of trying to avoid home, tonight. My parents are doing something annoying."
The edges of Marcy's smile sagged, and that warm feeling ebbed a bit. It was a foolish thing to be surprised by, in retrospect. Sasha often had more than one reason for doing something.
"Oh?" Marcy eventually inquired. "What are they doing?"
"Planning a dinner party for a few of my dad's lame business friends." She crossed her arms in front of her, and muttered "As I learned this afternoon."
Marcy weighed her friend's words, and asked "Is dealing with business guys that much of a pain?"
"Eh," answered Sasha, with a few tilts of her hand. "They're just more lame dads, really. It's their kids who are a pain. There's a whole pack of babies that I'm expected to entertain."
That earned her the quirk of a thin black eyebrow. "But Sash, don't you love babies?"
"Pffft, yeah. I love them until they learn the word 'mine.'" Her nose crinkled, as if she'd smelled something foul. "These are little rich kids I'm talking about, Marcy. From my dad's higher-ups." Her eyes glanced up at the ceiling, and she grimaced, just imagining them. "They're too young to care about boundaries, and they've never been told 'no' in their little lives. They're the worst."
Marcy gave a quiet, sympathetic hum.
That was all the cue Sasha needed to continue her rant. "Honestly, where do they get off, dropping that on me at the last minute?" she opined. "Do they really expect me to 'be seen and not heard,' and laugh some crusty old dad jokes, and let a bunch of spoiled muppets boss me around in my own house, when all I want to do is relax to start off the weekend?" When she had blustered out all of her breath, she refilled her lungs, and sighed them half empty again. "It's a total load," she concluded.
"Oh, the epitome of a load," Marcy concurred.
Things were silent, for a moment. Then, like a rainbow after a storm, a little smirk arched across Sasha's lips. "They're not the only ones who can make last minute plans, though." she murmured. "Hope mom's having fun wrangling toddlers, right about now."
Sasha looked quite satisfied with herself, for a moment. Eventually, though, she noticed Marcy's appraising eyes, and the absence of her wobbly smile. She choked on spit, like a gambler who'd shown her big hand. She forced a toothy grin. "Anyway that's why we can't study at my place, Mar-mar! Now what were we talking about before?"
"Probably something boring," Marcy intoned.
Sasha frowned, and glanced away. And, that was all the grilling Marcy had the heart for. As Sasha searched for something to say, her hand inched towards the looming bottle of acetone. Marcy cut her off with a sigh.
"I'm glad you're able to relax, here," she said. That brought Sasha's eyes back to her.
"Huh?"
"A minute ago you said you just wanted to relax to kick off the weekend." Once again, Marcy glanced down at all of Sasha's festive trappings. "I know the library isn't the most comfortable place in the world, so I'm glad you're able to do that here."
Sasha chuckled, and shrugged. "What can I say? There's just a nice vibe, I guess."
A nice vibe indeed, Marcy surmised. Nice enough that SJMS' cheer captain felt like she could guzzle high carb soda, hum along to pop songs, and draw little anime people to her heart's content. Sasha didn't let just anyone see that kind of behavior. Somehow or another, a new smile found its way onto Marcy's face.
She enjoyed the comfortable silence for a few moments, as she plotted out a course of action. Remaining at the library wouldn't do either of them much good, if Sasha's daredevilry would even allow them to stay much longer. With the Waybright estate off limits, though, they only had so many places to go.
As she often did, Marcy wished life tended a little closer to fiction; Anime schools always seemed to be open long after classes let out, if students needed a place to hang out. If Saint James were some fancy academy, or boarding school, then-
An epiphany struck. Marcy glanced again at Sasha's open notebook, and quirked a devious little grin. A plan swirled to life in her mind, until the snapping of fingers brought her back to reality.
"Marcy?" Sasha asked, "what are you doing?"
"Spacing out," she admitted. "But, I have an idea."
The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Well, let's hear it, then."
"Well," Marcy said, gesturing towards herself, "I'm not getting too much done, for some reason." She flicked a finger at Sasha. "And you're uh, far ahead of your studies. And we can't go to your place." A curious blonde nodded along to her recap. "So," Marcy concluded, "let's go somewhere else."
"Your place?" Sasha guessed.
"Oh no nono," Marcy shot. Her hand batted that idea away as fast as it had come. "I was thinking food."
A response nearly slipped from Sasha's lips. But, just then, the natural consequences of skipping out on dinner caught up to her. As her belly rumbled, she conceded "Yeah, maybe food would be good."
"Great," chimed Marcy. "Let's go somewhere we can eat outside. The weather's nice, and we could use fresh air."
"Sure," said Sasha. "We could go to that ice cream place a few blocks away." The girl scooted her chair out, and stood. And then, a thought entered her mind. "Is this gonna ruin your, like, study schedule?"
Marcy snorted. "Oh no, it's fine." She stacked Star Stuff onto the pile with its musty peers, and looked up at her friend. "I think you might have been right earlier, Sash. I have four and a half years to shore up on sciences." Her smile widened. "But how often do I get to spend a Friday night with you, just the two of us?"
Sasha found a smile of her own, then. It was small, and soft, and it dusted her cheeks a faint shade of pink. "Awww, Marcy. That was sweet." Sasha stood there for just a moment longer, before she started packing. She grabbed that dreaded bottle of acetone, and tucked it into her bag. "Come on then," she said. "Let's get going."
Marcy sprang up, with an unusual pep in her step. She stole off like a un-dexterous rogue towards the return cart, hiding a smirk behind her stack of tomes. She could scarcely believe how well that had come together. It was a rare, rare day that she could get one over on Sasha, no matter how small the victory.
She hadn't been lying when she said she wanted to get dinner with her less-frequent companion. But, she was leaving out other motives. Turnabout was fair play, after all.
For one, she didn't want one of the kindly old librarians to have to throw them both out. And, she had seen something... interesting, earlier. One of Sasha's drawings simply jumped off the page: It was a familiar magical girl costume, being worn by an even more familiar girl.
Marcy had swallowed the urge to draw attention to it, in the name of getting things done. But, if they weren't going to get anything done, then they simply had to discuss it. And, if they were going to discuss it, they would have to do it in a place without noise restrictions.
She was practically giddy, just thinking about it.
"Come on, Mar-mar!" Sasha called. "Don't get cold feet."
Marcy winced at her friend's certain-library-inappropriate volume, but she got the point. She shook off her fantasies for the moment, and spun around on her heel. And, she only stumbled a little.
She saw Sasha far ahead of her. The blonde had her backpack slung over one shoulder, and her notebook tucked under the other. She tapped a shiny black dress shoe against the carpet, but she waited all the same.
Marcy hurried to their table, and grabbed her own backpack. She even packed up the empty bottles Sasha had left, to throw away later. Someone was absolutely going to be reading the library's code of conduct, if she ever wanted to do this again.
Marcy caught up to her friend not a moment too soon. "Sorry," she huffed. "Daydreaming again. You know me."
"Do I?" Sasha chuckled. "The Marcy I know would have smashed into something by now."
Marcy caught a chuckle of her own. "Don't get ahead of yourself. The night is still young."
And with that, the two departed the library, and took to the streets.