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Chapter Eighteen

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"Stanley Kubrick? Never heard of him."

While Kyla and Nicole balked at that, not quite understanding how it was that someone could be anything other than in awe of such a filmmaker, Spencer didn't blame Carmen for not knowing much about him. She herself had heard of Kubrick via academics (she had heard of Quentin Tarantino much in the same way, through the academic journals she from time to time indulged in) with reference to the impact of mass media on contemporary thought. She'd not been big on movies from the start and if this conversation were to be believed than neither had Carmen, which wasn't so hard to believe, considering that her main interests in life were Kyla and sports, specifically soccer. But Spencer was happy that their talk was about the movie night the four of them were going to have with Aiden, because it paid her a great relief -- she'd not be subjected to silence around Kyla and Carmen, a silence that would make her think harder about what she'd seen the two of them do.

It was Friday afternoon, lunch hour, hour of commune. Spencer, along with Nicole, Kyla and Carmen, sat together upon the slight hillock of greenery that surrounded the outside of the cafeteria. It was a very bright and beautiful day out there today, though its radiant beams of sunlight might have glistened on an uncaring high school, one of its individuals, Spencer Carlin, did nothing but bask in all of it. For the first time in long while she could honestly and openly say that she was unequivocally happy. She, Nicole, Kyla and Carmen had over the past few weeks become close friends, a goal marched toward with the same blistering speed that other elements of Spencer's life had endured within the year, much like her relationship with Ashley, which had evolved from something inexorably contemptible to something so much sweeter, something that was good for the both of them, something that meant more to them than any other experience they'd known so far in their short lives. The 'albatross' that was Spencer's own sexuality, had seen validation through Kyla and Carmen. While it still felt awkward to be around them when she knew full well they were screwing each other (because they still didn't know that she knew) there was an undeniable comfort in being aware of their relationship, of their feelings for each other.

So often at school when you were gay and no one else around you was, you felt like a freak. Spencer had been carrying that sentiment with her from middle-school all the way up to her meeting with Ashley, that sense of distance and isolation, which was why she constantly referred to her lesbianism as an 'albatross'. But seeing the way Kyla and Carmen cared for each other helped her realize that she wasn't alone, that she wasn't the only one wrestling with those kinds of feelings and labors, even if it that had appeared to be the case for years. Their relationship (in its own way) had served to validate her feelings of comfort with her sexuality because Spencer was no longer alone in bearing that cross. Most of all she had Ashley. Nothing could be instantaneous, and they still had a lot of things to work through, trust that needed to be established, but at this point in time Spencer couldn't be happier with the way things were unfolding.

Of course there were still nicks in the linen. She still didn't get on well with her parents and that wasn't likely to change any time soon. But seeing the horrors that Ashley's father Raiff had wreaked put Paula and Arthur under a different spotlight in Spencer's eyes. They weren't the horrible twosome she'd come to think of them as, at least not comparatively, which allowed the blonde girl to see them outside of their fallacies. Truth was she wasn't the only one who didn't get on well with her parents. She wasn't so unusual in that respect.

For those reasons she basked in the sun. And she smiled, honestly and heartily, in a way she didn't often do, while her friends nattered on about what Carmen should and shouldn't know about filmmaking, a triviality that could calmly be languished in, all because of a blossoming new life.

"A Clockwork Orange?" Kyla stated. "Haven't you heard about that?"

Carmen paused for thought. "I guess so. England, right?"

"...How couldn't I know that about you?"

"I don't tell you everything," said the goalkeeper. "It's not a big deal is it?"

Nicole, who was lying across grass on her side and popping potato wedges into her mouth, answered. "Well it won't be by tomorrow night I suppose. So, uh... what time does Aiden want us to get there? I'd ask him myself but I haven't seen him all day."

"We usually get started early, about two in the afternoon, because we watch so many movies." Kyla stated (since getting closer to Spencer and Nicole she had become more talkative).

Nicole sighed. "I'm coming early."

"Why?"

"I'm coming early." She repeated, not explaining herself, not that she needed to.

Throughout the week Aiden and Nicole had gotten everywhere and nowhere in an instant. Everyone, Spencer, Kyla and Carmen all, knew that they liked each other. Their body language was easy enough to read to tell the notion anyway. What made the difference was that they saw as little of each other. She saw as little of Aiden as Spencer did of Ashley, during the school week, because both Aiden and Ashley were seniors. What made it worse for Nicole was that Aiden was something of an artist, and he had already applied to UCLA for a course on Art and 'aesthetic theory'. In doing this he went out of his way to keep his grades tight and expressed his academic interest in afterschool Art classes. When he wasn't doing that he was with his friends. Simply put Aiden was often busy, which was one of the reasons he was so adamant about having the movie night with Kyla on a weekly basis -- it was his way of making time for her. But of course that didn't leave much time for the Milligan girl, who herself was often busy with soccer practice and her father. Impasse.

"He needs to chill," Nicole moaned. "Finals haven't even started yet."

Kyla stared at her as she ate. "My brother does a lot, that's just how he is."

"And where's the time for fun? The year'll blow Aiden by and then bang, summer's over. He'll be at college and he'll have slutty frat skanks all over him. Meanwhile I'm still here. I mean look at the four of us right now. We're all single! It's such a kick in the ass."

Carmen and Kyla shared a smile with each other then, a knowing one, while Nicole ate her wedges, a smile that conferred their feelings for each other to each other. Feelings Nicole didn't know about. But Spencer noticed it. And they didn't know that she too had someone -- in reality Nicole was the only single person here. Carmen and Kyla were an item. However Carmen and Kyla didn't know that Spencer knew that they had something going on, nor did Nicole. And neither Nicole nor Carmen nor Kyla knew Spencer was with Ashley at the moment either. That fact reminded Spencer that there were a lot of secrets in their four-way friendship, but because it was so complicated in so many damn ways, she couldn't begin to understand how they'd unravel it now. Carmen and Kyla were clearly unready to come out of the closet and so was Spencer; hopefully things would just balance themselves out until they all felt ready to come clean.

The others went back onto the movie night subject and what it was they'd watch at Aiden and Kyla's house. Spencer had finished her lunch by then so she checked her watch. She balked at the time. The lunch hour would end in fifteen minutes and she still had something she needed to do. So she heaved her backpack back onto her little shoulders and stood, tray in hand.

"Spencer?" Nicole glanced up. "Where are you off to?"

"Remember Mr. Stephens suggested I see Miss Gilbertson about her Creative Writing class? I'm going to see her about it now. I think it might fun."

Carmen smiled at her. "Good for you, Spencer. I didn't know you liked to write."

"Yeah, well..." she blushed."I don't think I'm very good... but... I still want to give it a go. I`ll see you all later."

She waved a brief goodbye to the three of them then walked off down the hill to the cafeteria. After dumping her tray (and all that lingered on it) she headed off to Miss Gilbertson's English room. Spencer had spent a good chunk of the week wondering if she should do as Mr. Stephens suggested and opt for this class. She hadn't been sure. You see from the moment she started doing it, Spencer's writing was a cathartic release for her, it was interpersonal and private for that very reason. Her poetry was one thing -- she routinely posted them on according websites for correspondence with fellow poets. But her storytelling was never as general or obscured. They were frank dirges that she churned out in blunt metaphor and historical backdrops. Each one was either a distant allegory for an aspect of her life or about feelings she had about things going on in the world; either way she hadn`t meant for anyone except God and herself to know about them. But because of her sloppiness of attention Mr. Stephens had read one which led her to seriously consider `sharing the shit' with others.

It seemed like a haunting option at first. What if they didn't like it? What if the work of the class was better than hers altogether? What if they read between the lines of her writing and figured out that she was *gasp* a big lesbo?

For every negative scenario that popped into brain she refused to let them stay their course. Spencer could be utterly rational when she wanted to be. All the rational inklings in her head right now were telling her that this might simply be a good way of improving her writing. When she eventually headed for college her major was likely to be English (or at least within the bracket of the department) so how could this be anything but a benefit?

Before long Spencer found herself at Miss Gilbertson's door, a door that she subsequently knocked, and heard a brief 'come in' beckon her forth. She twisted the knob to step in. Miss Gilbertson sat behind her desk at that moment, and, as horrible a thing as it was to say, she was quite an average-looking woman; a thirty something with shoulder length black hair, lightly tanned skin and a pair of reading glasses. Spread out over her desk were clusters of papers and tests with varying grades to adorn them, everything from A+ to E-. She looked up only as Spencer closed the door of her room, but when she saw the teen she pulled her glasses from her face, suspended from her neck by a chain, and let them dangle.

"Can I help you?" Asked the English teacher.

Spencer explained herself. "I'm, uh... my name is Spencer Carlin and... Mr. Stephens read a story that... accidentally got mixed up with one of my reports and um... he said he liked it so he told me that I should think about asking you if I could maybe join your Creative Writing class?"

"Hmmm," Miss Gilbertson mused. "It's a little late in the year to sign up for an afterschool class. There aren't that many places left either. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"...Well. Okay then. If you come recommended from Mr. Stephens then I won't send you on your way. My class is every Tuesday and Thursday from 4pm till 5:30pm. And don't think that because this is an extracurricular activity that I expect anything less than the kind of work you'd produce in a compulsory one. You will need to catch up on the work we've done beforehand too. Most of the notes are up on the school website anyway so I suggest that you spend your next free hour combing through them. Oh, and, if you don't mind, I'd like to read some work of yours. It doesn't have to be anything elaborate or concise, maybe less than a 1000 words will do, anything of the kind you can give me, say by... Monday morning. Does that sound acceptable?"

Spencer nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Excellent. Good to have you onboard, Spencer."

Well. That went well. Although as Spencer left Miss Gilbertson's room she couldn't stop herself wondering what she would do about that 1000 word piece she wanted. If she was going to do this class then she definitely was not going to start with any of her old work -- she didn't want tongues wagging. That meant that she'd have to do something fresh, something new, and something by Monday, no less.

As she turned the corner of the hall past some other kids she tried to think up an idea, the key word being tried -- for as she turned that corner, just a short way down the hall, was Ashley. Spencer felt her smile emerge and widen as her girlfriend came out of Mr. Rodriguez's Spanish class whilst she stood with a couple of her own friends, fellow seniors of hers to head off to lunch since they ate later than their underclassmen did. It was when Ashley spotted Spencer out of the corner of her eye she pulled a deep grin, so typical of her, before saying succinct goodbyes to her padres. They continued down to the hall without her.

Spencer cast her gaze southward when Ashley approached, her cheeks flowering rouge. "Hey, Ashley."

"Hey," the copper of her eyes turned to a girl's toilet across the corridor. "Follow me."

They left with each other to its doors and pushed in. Unfortunately there were a few other girls in there at the time so Ashley and Spencer separated to await their departure. When the three girls were gone the two of them scuttled into one of the cubicles and locked the door. In seconds Ashley had Spencer up against the wall, their arms wrapped around each other, and kissing ardently within its miniscule walls. Spencer whimpered blissful whimpers whilst Ashley's velvety lips moved in concert with her own, all the more when her slippery tongue prised its way between them to thrust inside her mouth and sensually played with hers. She could have melted into goo when Ashley's hands took her then, one around her back and the other slowly riding up the smoothness of her thigh. Spencer's own arms she had around the Italian girl's neck to bring her as close as possible, close enough to feel the sensation of their stomachs pressed together, close enough to hear Ashley's soft, almost inaudible little moans of pleasure. When they parted; long, lovely moments later, they were both breathless.

"Jesus, Spencer... you look gorgeous today..." They were still so close to each other that Spencer could feel Ashley's warm breath tease her cool lips as she uttered each word.

It made Spencer beam, as Ashley did. "How are you... today...?"

"...Me? Fine, if not a little pissed. Seems like every time we kiss we do it somewhere people take a dump."

You couldn't really ignore the presence of a toilet bowl... no matter how good a kisser your girlfriend was. But while they were at school their options were limited. The bathrooms were the only place in Alderson High where you could get some privacy, and only if you were lucky. And unlike Kyla and Carmen they weren't bold enough (or cocky enough) to do anything more any place else on the grounds.

Spencer took to running her fingers through Ashley's glossy black hair during her reply, "It's tough, but... what's really the alternative?"

"Kissing loud and proud in front of everybody?"

"And then get beaten up?"

Ashley smirked somewhat. "We wouldn't get beaten up, we're not guys. Most likely the cheerleaders and trendies would harass us, call us dykes and stuff... then a few guys might ask us for a threesome, maybe even record the kiss and put in on YouTube. We'd get thousands of hits and hundreds of comments; it'd be all, "Dude that was so hot! Now spank that WASP's ass!" or something. Of course some angry mother in Connecticut would call us pervs and get the site to remove the vid, but we'd still have our fifteen minutes of fame."

"...Yeah. That... isn't at all creepy."

"Well I wouldn't blame them," Ashley's voice got all husky again. "Your ass is cuter than mine..."

As she went on to place little butterfly kisses up and down her neck, Spencer giggled, so much more freely than she usually did. "Ashley..." she whispered softly. Whispers interrupted by the chime of the second lunch bell, that ended the hour for all students that weren`t seniors. Ashley pulled herself from Spencer's neck and rolled her eyes.

"You've got class." She said morosely.

Spencer stole one last kiss from her. "Call me later, okay? We can talk."

"Yeah. Okay."