Chapter 8 - Down in the Dumps

(...Tootie's bedroom...two weeks later...)

The break-up cut the bespectacled young woman deeper than anyone could've imagined. She fell into a dreary routine: getting up, going to school, coming home, doing her homework, grabbing a light snack and crying herself to sleep.

Tootie decided to retire quite early in the evening; she was feeling quite sick today. Whether she was heartsick or sick to her stomach, she wouldn't tell. She lies in bed, tucked under her covers. A knock at the door stirs her a little.

"Tootie?"

(...the upstairs hallway...)

Her mother stands at the door of Tootie's bedroom with a tray. On the tray is a plate with salisbury steak, mashed potatoes and peas.

"I know it hurts, but you must eat something. Please", she says, her voice filled with worry.

(...Tootie's bedroom...)

The young woman is - literally and figuratively - unmoved by the matriarch's pleas.

(...outside Tootie's bedroom...)

"Tootie?" Another knock at the door.

Mr. Flanagan walks by, then turns back to his wife.

"Honey, if Toots wants to be left alone, then we should respect that."

"But, Vic, what if she doesn't come out? I doubt they'll allow her to graduate from inside her bedroom."

"Val, the more we push her, the less she'll move." He puts his arm around her. "It'll be all right."

"I don't understand, though. She really loved that Turner boy. He was her whole world. Now she won't even take his calls."

"Speaking of which..." Mr. Flanagan checks his watch. "...he should be calling again in three, two, one..."

The phone rings.

"Do you wanna take it or should I?"

"I'll tell him, Vic."

Mrs. Flanagan heads down the stairs, tray in hand. Mr. Flanagan puts one hand in his pocket and the other on the wall next to Tootie's door. He shakes his head.

"If only we could help." As he heads for the stairs, a thought crosses his mind: 'Where in the world is Vicky?'

(...Dimmsdale Mall...)

Even at this late hour, the inside is packed with consumers. Watching them go by from a bench are Vicky and Trixie. They aren't there to shop. They're just...there.

Ever since their quite accidental meeting, they became good...if not friends, then certainly acquaintances.

"So, how's school been going?"

"I'm telling you; my teachers are out to get me."

"What about your dad?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt me. I'm sure I'll figure something out."

Vicky turns to the bustle of shoppers.

"Look at these people, running around. All this running around and they're getting nowhere. They need to learn to sit back and enjoy life. It's not that hard, to bask in the misery of others."

"Yeah."

"To just laugh at your troubles...and other people's troubles."

"You're right. There is so much they could learn from you; that I could learn."

"Exactly. It's like this saying I heard one time: 'If you're miserable, why should others be happy?'" Trixie thinks a bit about Vicky's words. She turns to the redhead.

"Wait. What could you be miserable about?"

The usually upfront Vicky was hesitant to answer. The misery of others caused her no end of happiness, but her own misery was a source of great pain. As she looks off, her eyes start to tear.

(...the Flanagan's house...nineteen years ago...)

With a purple bow in her hair, little Vicky runs around her backyard. She looks up a tree, but grunts upon finding nothing. She looks to the side door of the garage, but the window of the door was placed a lot higher than she could see. The petite redhead jumps up and down, her little legs carrying her as far as they'd go. Nothing still.

Vicky turns upon hearing a light rustling from the bush. She tip-toes toward the shrubbery. As she draws closer, the greenery seems to giggle. The little girl jumps into the bush. Moments later, Vicky emerges from the bush chasing another girl; one with brown hair.

"I got you, Donna! You're it!"

"Only if you catch me first!"

The girls run and laugh with reckless abandon.

"Vicky..."

(...Dimmsdale Mall...)

"Vicky?

Trixie looks on with concern at her companion. She snaps her fingers in front of Vicky's face.

"Vicky!"

The older woman shakes out of her 'trance'.

"What? What is it?"

"Well, you kinda spaced out for a moment."

"Spaced out?"

"Yeah. I mentioned why you'd be miserable, then you just..." Trixie mimics the spaced-out look sported by Vicky moments ago.

"Well, I...it's nothing. You know, this doesn't happen too often, but I've come to consider you a good friend."

"Somehow, I think it goes deeper than that."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, Vicky, the two of us...we're like sisters!", replies Trixie with a great deal of exuberance.

"Yeah. I guess we are."

(...Timmy's bedroom...an hour later...)

His arms folded behind his head, the brown-haired lad lays on his bed. He allows a tear to fall from his eye. A knock at the door fails to stir him from his funk.

"Timmy?", Mrs. Turner asks. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about this?"

His response is dead silence.

"Well, if you do want to talk, you know where I am."

The look on Timmy's face was one of apathy, but he briefly allowed his face to crack a smile. His parents hadn't paid much attention to him in the past, but they managed to take an interest in their son in the nick of time.

(...the Flanagan's house...the next morning...)

The way the family members walk says a lot about their current frames-of-mind. While her parents zip past her at warp speed upstairs and her sister glides by casually to the kitchen, Tootie shuffles down the stairs. As she heads for the door, the voices of her family blend together:

"Val, have you seen my tie?"

"Check your tie rack."

"Thank you."

"Damn. There's never a fresh pot of coffee."

"I really need the bathroom, honey."

"So do I right now."

"I wonder if we have any pancake mix?"

"Tootie, remember that your family loves you. Take care."

The front door closes.

(...Dimmsdale High...a couple of hours later...)

Tootie ambles along, detached from her surroundings. She bumps into Mr. McKenzie.

"Whoa."

"Oh, Mr. McKenzie. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. Speaking of all right, are you? You haven't been yourself lately."

"I'm sorry. It's just...a lot's been going on in my life."

"Well, have you finished that essay?"

"The ess..." Tootie brings her hand to her head as she realizes what he's talking about. "Oh, my God. I completely forgot about that."

"Tootie." The educator shakes his head. "I really believe you have a chance at this. I don't want you to lose this."

The brunette looks away.

"You still have two weeks. I know you can do it. A thousand words is nothing; three pages. You could do this in your sleep."

Tootie walks down the hall. "And Tootie?" She turns back. "Whatever's wrong, I hope you can get it straightened out." The senior runs back and hugs Mr. McKenzie. If there's one thing she definitely needs now, it's encouragement.

The bespectacled girl strolls down the hallway. She's not even a few steps down the hallway when she sees Timmy walking towards her. Luckily for her, his head is down; he's feeling just as bad as she was earlier.

Tootie looks around nervously for a way out; she's feeling better, but not quite up to the level of reconciliation. She ducks into a restroom, unaware of the little man on the door.

Timmy turns a corner.

"Oh, Timmy."

The young man looks up with a smile, which quickly becomes a grimace. The voice belongs to Trixie. Timmy brushes by her without a word.

Trixie tries to keep pace with him. "I haven't seen you in so long. What's wrong, dear friend?"

Timmy stops and turns to her, a scowl on his face. "You know those panties you bought a couple of weeks ago? They ended up in my backseat!"

"Hmmm. That is unusual."

"And now my girlfriend won't even speak to me."

"Oh. You have a girlfriend." Trixie knew this from Vicky, but she was sure to play dumb about it.

"Had."

"You seem pretty down about this. Maybe I could cheer you up."

"How could you cheer me up?"

Trixie stares a bit at her "friend".

"Are you sure you're old enough to be graduating from high school?" Trixie leans in close and cups her hand to Timmy's ear. "I mean..."

The expression on his face goes from apathy to amusement, and then to shock.

"You can't be serious."

"At this point, I wouldn't ask anyone else. I love you, Timmy. No one's ever broken up with me before. It...it fascinated me. And you having a girlfriend...that makes you so attractive."

"Ex-girlfriend, which is also what you are."

"Even so, I want you back."

Timmy slinks away from Trixie.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want you. I'll say this for the last time: the two of us are over. Do you understand?"

Trixie's mouth hangs open.

"Trixie?"

"Oh. Yes, I do."

"I still love her. What kind of relationship could we have?"

Timmy walks away.

"Goodbye."