A/N: This is soft. This is very soft. I wrote most of this and a demented comedy/horror piece about the Zodiac killer in the same day, and I don't know how that happened.
Also, it has been a month. Thank you all for being so patient, and I will try to get the next (and last!) chapter out in the next two weeks. Thanks for sticking with me. Enjoy.
"Oh, come on!" Edric wails. "Why'd they lose?" He points in Jerbo's direction overdramatically. "This is your fault. You made me way too emotionally invested in this game, and then they lost and I'm distraught!"
"I feel your pain," Jerbo says, patting Edric on the back and trying very hard not to laugh.
"Oh!" Edric whips his head up so suddenly that Jerbo has to back up or get his nose broken. "My sister's here! Wanna meet her?"
"Is this the sister with a crush on me?" Jerbo asks, even though he knows the answer.
"Uh, yeah, but I can, like, talk to her and make sure she doesn't make you uncomfortable or anything," Edric says quickly.
This boy is going to be the death of him. He's so dumb and so considerate and so –
Jerbo's brain gives up trying to fit words to the enigma that is Edric Blight and provides some unhelpful staticky screaming about how gay he is.
"Um, maybe not right now?"
"No problem!" Edric says, still cheerful. "Wanna get ice cream?"
"It's November. And actively snowing."
"And?"
"Uh, let me talk to Viney real quick first, see if she wants to come with us."
That is not what Jerbo is supposed to be doing. He is not supposed to be getting Edric and Viney into close proximity with each other, and he is also not supposed to be inviting Viney along on what still might technically be a date. But Jerbo is a moron who sabotages his own chances on a regular basis, and that's just how it's going to be.
"Okay!" Edric says. "See you!"
Jerbo tries to wave at him, Edric goes in for a high five, and their hands end up awkwardly tangled together for what's probably only a second but feels far too long.
"Um, yeah, see you, this won't take long," Jerbo manages, and, with difficulty, manages to turn around and scan the room for Viney and her team.
…
Viney's lost track of how long she's been sitting here, with just the buzzing of the fluorescent light and the cold tiles and her own breathing. She's still breathing too loud and too fast, still letting tears escape occasionally, but she's over the worst of the panic attack. That's good. But even the thought of having to go back out there and face her team and explain why she freaked out is enough to make her panic again. So she's sitting here on the bathroom floor, hoping that maybe if she stays in here long enough everyone will forget about her and leave.
Someone taps on the door and Viney curls up into a ball and doesn't respond.
"Viney? Dude, is that you?"
Fuck, it's Jerbo. And Jerbo is persistent when he wants to be.
"Go away," Viney manages, and her voice is soft and wobbly and she hates it.
"I have your shoes!" Jerbo calls through the door, undeterred. "You kinda need those at some point."
"I said go away!"
There's maybe ten seconds of blessed silence, then Jerbo starts tapping on the door again.
"Whatever's going on, I can help! Probably! I swear!"
Viney sighs and unlocks the door. Jerbo puts down her boots next to her with a thud, then sits down against the opposite wall.
"Um, want to talk about it? Want advice? Just want some moral support and maybe a hug?"
"Fuck off," Viney snaps, because just because Jerbo's here doesn't mean she has to listen to him. She starts unlacing her skates, because now she can actually leave, but her fingers are shaking and clumsy and she ends up burying her face in her hands with a frustrated sob.
"Are you upset about the game?" Jerbo asks tentatively.
"No. Yes. Kinda. No. Technically, yes, but that's not the main issue here."
"Okay, so what is the main issue?"
Viney breathes in and out a few times, wipes the tears off of her face, and settles so her legs are extended in front of her. After a second, she feels the soles of Jerbo's feet make contact with her wheels, and the pressure helps keep her upright.
"I just – fucking – sometimes I hate people," she manages, and Jerbo, God bless him, understands that, because they're best friends.
"I know that sometimes people are going to treat you like shit because you're not like them, but they're boring and petty and small-minded, and they're none of your concern."
"I know that," Viney says, and leans her head back into the tiles. "But it's different when it's someone you know. I mean, Emira did some awful things back in seventh grade, but now it feels like we're friends, and I know that people change, but also I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to turn out exactly as bad as I thought she was, and I just don't know!"
There's a long silence. Viney starts to pick at the laces of her skates again.
"And how exactly is sitting in this bathroom going over the same thing again and again going to change that?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Viney demands.
"Right now, the evidence you have supports both conclusions. You need to actually talk to her and get more evidence if you ever want to know how she feels!"
"Oh, is that what you've been doing with Edric?"
This is almost definitely the wrong subject, but Viney's angry, and Jerbo's a ridiculous fucking hypocrite.
"'Oh, Viney, help me! Are we friends or does he like me? Guess we'll never know!' Take your own advice for a change, because I'm fucking sick of it!"
…
Emira isn't spying. It's not. It's really not spying. She just happens to see Edric and Jerbo talking, and then she says in place rather than approach, because, well, she wants to see how this goes.
There's some vague conversation that she can't quite make out, but the smile on Jerbo's face is visible from a mile away, and then somehow they end up momentarily awkwardly holding hands, and then Jerbo ducks away, actually blushing.
Ugh, how does her airheaded little brother have more game than her?
Emira feels … weird. Not bad weird, just, like, weird in general. So she unpacks her feelings. Nerves, fond irritation over Edric's shenanigans, the slow comedown from the adrenaline of the game. Nothing weird.
It's not the feelings that are there that are weird, she realizes, it's the ones that are missing. Specifically, jealousy, of which there is precisely none. And that's insane, because the guy she's had a crush on for months is apparently falling for her brother, of all people, and that's absolutely a situation in which jealousy is warranted.
She delves deep into the warm fuzzy feelings at the bottom of her heart and tries to find old books and eyeliner and nerves, and only comes up with weird scarves and confusing sports and quiet, unshakeable confidence.
Oh.
Well, fuck.
This is going to be fun.
She marches over to Edric.
"We have to tell them."
"Good to see you too, Em," Edric gripes. "Wait, you want to tell Jerbo how you feel?"
"No. I mean we have to tell them the truth."
"So, you want to tell Jerbo how you feel?"
"No, we have to tell them the whole truth. About why we made friends with them. I can't keep lying to Viney any more, and even if she hates me afterward this is something we have to do. And it's not fair to do that myself and make you keep up a lie alone, so you can tell Jerbo too."
"I can't actually do that," Edric says, fidgeting, and she turns on him.
"Why not? Oh, God, what did you do?"
"I already told him," Edric interrupts. "And, like, I explained the whole thing, and it wasn't even that big of a deal, and now we're just friends for real instead of for some stupid plan."
"Okay," Emira says, a little surprised, but not really. Edric's fundamentally honest. Sure, he'll lie to get out of tricky situations or so their parents will leave them alone, but he's always more comfortable with the truth.
Emira isn't. She's used to hiding in oceans of little lies and webs of half-truths and endless acres of faking it (wow, mixed metaphor, much?). The only person she's honest with all the time is Ed.
"Good luck telling Viney!" Edric says. "Want me along for moral support?"
"Absolutely not," Emira tells him, and only feels a little bad, because honesty at all times is her new priority, never mind the consequences. "I can handle this on my own."
…
"So, we're going to tell them," Jerbo says. He doesn't sound all that enthusiastic.
"Yeah," Viney says weakly.
"Come on, we can do this," Jerbo says. Viney shoves one foot into her Docs and doesn't say anything.
"Uh, dude, aren't you going to change out of your uniform?"
"I'm more confident in the uniform, and I need all the confidence I'm going to get right now."
"Well, that's great, but it's winter and you're wearing shorts and fishnets."
"It's still technically fall," Viney points out, and Jerbo groans.
"It's snowing. Please, actually wear some real clothes. For me."
"I'll wear your jacket," Viney offers, and Jerbo doesn't groan or complain like she expected. Instead, she just feels the soft leather settling onto her shoulders.
"If it helps, then the jacket's all yours," Jerbo says, and his voice sounds softer than usual. She hears him back away from her, then a sink running and the sound of Jerbo splashing water onto his face.
"It helps," Viney says, pulling the jacket farther around her. It's frayed and the lining is falling to pieces and it still smells like wet dog and ketchup from that accident freshman year that they don't talk about, and it feels like home.
"Okay, good."
"You know I love you, right?"
Jerbo wraps his arms around her, squeezing like he's never going to let go.
"Yeah, I know. Love you too. Now let's go make some rich kids talk about their feelings."