A/N: It's a brand spanky new format, with spaces in new places! Hey, that
rhymed... Many thanks to my loverly beta, Firevega21, who helped me get
this format, because I'm special and couldn't accomplish that on my own.
This chapter contains deliberate femmeslash. What do I mean by that?
cackle Read and review.
Neither of my parents were home when I got there, thankfully. I didn't feel like explaining why I'd forged a note to get out of school. I didn't feel like explaining Paige, or what happened at the Dot, or on the phone, or the note. I couldn't even explain the note to myself. It meant she felt the same way. It meant we could be together. And if we could, would we? She'd gone out of her way to make sure no one would notice the two of us together anywhere, not even over the phone. She'd been setting me up and breaking me. The more this thought loomed in my mind, the more it bothered me. I hadn't become her friend—or, to what felt like my dislike, anything more than her friend. I'd become the toy at her beck and call. She was controlling me and hurting me and she had no right to do that. So at the time school normally got out, I dug out the phone book, looked up her address, and walked to her house. I knocked on the door, and it was only when I heard footsteps inside that I started to panic. What if she'd brought Hazel and Ashley home with her again and I was going to be kicked out? What if she'd slam the door in my face, just like she'd hung up the phone? The door swung open, and my first thought was that it wasn't Paige. It was a guy, fifteen or sixteen by the looks of him, with curly blond hair and a welcoming smile. I wanted to hate him because right now I hated her, but I couldn't, because I didn't know him. "Is Paige here?" I asked. The guy nodded. "She's in her room. Up the stairs, take a right, first door on the left," he said. "Is anyone up there with her?" I asked quickly. "Nope," the guy said, and he retreated to what might have been the kitchen. The stairs were a little ways down the hall, and covered in peach colored carpeting. I went upstairs, to where there was more peach carpet, and down the hall to the right. The first door on the left was closed. I knocked. "Yeah?" called Paige. I pushed open the door. Paige was sitting on her bed, and looked up when I entered. She scrambled to her feet. "Ellie, did you read my—" "What is this?" I demanded, holding out the note. Paige stared at it. "What do you mean?" she asked. She seemed almost nervous, and I liked it. "I mean, what the hell do you think you're doing? Do you think you can just go around playing games with people because, oh, you're Paige Michalchuk, you're the smart and nice and beautiful and popular cheerleader, you can make the rest of the world do whatever you want," I said "Ellie, I never meant to play games with you," Paige said. "So the phone calls, and the trips to the Dot, and all those times you acted like you've never met me were just figments of my imagination? And I supposed you are too, because I must be making up something as perfect as you," I said mockingly. "Are you trying to tell me you hate me or make me feel—" "Feel what? Feel more—" I checked the note "—stupid, shallow, guilty, and confused in seven hours than anyone else has ever made you feel in your entire life?" "Ellie, I meant every word I said there. I don't care if you've got commitment issues or what," Paige said. I laughed hollowly. "Commitment issues? Me? You're the one who keeps breaking any plans we make! Tell me, Paige, if you hate me so much, why'd you ever come up to me the first day I was here?" I asked. "I don't hate you, Ellie. If you actually paid attention to my note, you'd know that," Paige said. "To which part?" I asked. "To the whole fucking thing!" Paige said. Screamed, actually. I heard the noise downstairs stop. "I shouldn't have to mold my life around your social standing. I can't help it if you're the most popular girl in school and I'm number one on the social outcast list, but if you feel even a fraction of what you say you feel, you'd find a way to make us work," I said. "There isn't any 'us', Ellie! We've never had a date or a conversation that lasted for more than four minutes! You won't even admit if you feel the same way!" Paige shouted. "Because I don't know if I 'feel the same way' because you won't lay out how you feel!" I shouted back. "I laid it out fine in the note! You're the one who won't tell me—" "I should think it's fairly obvious! I wouldn't have put up with you if I wasn't completely and disgustingly infatuated with you! And you're dodging the point of this whole conversation! I just told you how I feel, so now it's your turn!" I said. Paige grabbed my shoulders and pushed my back against her closed bedroom door. "You want to know how I really feel?" she snapped. "That's what I said, isn't it?" I said. She pressed me harder back into the door, so hard I could feel slivers poking through the back of my shirt. And she leaned forward and kissed me. If I'd thought I'd had brain malfunctions seeing her for the first time, it was nothing compared to kissing her. Every atom of my being seemed to explode at once, even though it wasn't even much of a kiss. The pressure of how hard she was kissing me hurt, and there was barely any movement. It lasted exactly five and a half seconds before she pulled away, releasing me, and sat down on the edge of her bed. "That's how I feel," she said in an almost-whisper.
Neither of my parents were home when I got there, thankfully. I didn't feel like explaining why I'd forged a note to get out of school. I didn't feel like explaining Paige, or what happened at the Dot, or on the phone, or the note. I couldn't even explain the note to myself. It meant she felt the same way. It meant we could be together. And if we could, would we? She'd gone out of her way to make sure no one would notice the two of us together anywhere, not even over the phone. She'd been setting me up and breaking me. The more this thought loomed in my mind, the more it bothered me. I hadn't become her friend—or, to what felt like my dislike, anything more than her friend. I'd become the toy at her beck and call. She was controlling me and hurting me and she had no right to do that. So at the time school normally got out, I dug out the phone book, looked up her address, and walked to her house. I knocked on the door, and it was only when I heard footsteps inside that I started to panic. What if she'd brought Hazel and Ashley home with her again and I was going to be kicked out? What if she'd slam the door in my face, just like she'd hung up the phone? The door swung open, and my first thought was that it wasn't Paige. It was a guy, fifteen or sixteen by the looks of him, with curly blond hair and a welcoming smile. I wanted to hate him because right now I hated her, but I couldn't, because I didn't know him. "Is Paige here?" I asked. The guy nodded. "She's in her room. Up the stairs, take a right, first door on the left," he said. "Is anyone up there with her?" I asked quickly. "Nope," the guy said, and he retreated to what might have been the kitchen. The stairs were a little ways down the hall, and covered in peach colored carpeting. I went upstairs, to where there was more peach carpet, and down the hall to the right. The first door on the left was closed. I knocked. "Yeah?" called Paige. I pushed open the door. Paige was sitting on her bed, and looked up when I entered. She scrambled to her feet. "Ellie, did you read my—" "What is this?" I demanded, holding out the note. Paige stared at it. "What do you mean?" she asked. She seemed almost nervous, and I liked it. "I mean, what the hell do you think you're doing? Do you think you can just go around playing games with people because, oh, you're Paige Michalchuk, you're the smart and nice and beautiful and popular cheerleader, you can make the rest of the world do whatever you want," I said "Ellie, I never meant to play games with you," Paige said. "So the phone calls, and the trips to the Dot, and all those times you acted like you've never met me were just figments of my imagination? And I supposed you are too, because I must be making up something as perfect as you," I said mockingly. "Are you trying to tell me you hate me or make me feel—" "Feel what? Feel more—" I checked the note "—stupid, shallow, guilty, and confused in seven hours than anyone else has ever made you feel in your entire life?" "Ellie, I meant every word I said there. I don't care if you've got commitment issues or what," Paige said. I laughed hollowly. "Commitment issues? Me? You're the one who keeps breaking any plans we make! Tell me, Paige, if you hate me so much, why'd you ever come up to me the first day I was here?" I asked. "I don't hate you, Ellie. If you actually paid attention to my note, you'd know that," Paige said. "To which part?" I asked. "To the whole fucking thing!" Paige said. Screamed, actually. I heard the noise downstairs stop. "I shouldn't have to mold my life around your social standing. I can't help it if you're the most popular girl in school and I'm number one on the social outcast list, but if you feel even a fraction of what you say you feel, you'd find a way to make us work," I said. "There isn't any 'us', Ellie! We've never had a date or a conversation that lasted for more than four minutes! You won't even admit if you feel the same way!" Paige shouted. "Because I don't know if I 'feel the same way' because you won't lay out how you feel!" I shouted back. "I laid it out fine in the note! You're the one who won't tell me—" "I should think it's fairly obvious! I wouldn't have put up with you if I wasn't completely and disgustingly infatuated with you! And you're dodging the point of this whole conversation! I just told you how I feel, so now it's your turn!" I said. Paige grabbed my shoulders and pushed my back against her closed bedroom door. "You want to know how I really feel?" she snapped. "That's what I said, isn't it?" I said. She pressed me harder back into the door, so hard I could feel slivers poking through the back of my shirt. And she leaned forward and kissed me. If I'd thought I'd had brain malfunctions seeing her for the first time, it was nothing compared to kissing her. Every atom of my being seemed to explode at once, even though it wasn't even much of a kiss. The pressure of how hard she was kissing me hurt, and there was barely any movement. It lasted exactly five and a half seconds before she pulled away, releasing me, and sat down on the edge of her bed. "That's how I feel," she said in an almost-whisper.
