Thirty minutes later, Jackie had come back to her house, found it creepily empty and had taking off. She had gone to the bar that she had heard Steven mention wasn't precious on age limits. Jackie did look young. However, after she had jokingly said to the barman that, giving her looks, her presence in his establishment could only be good for business, he had laughed and giving her the Pina colada she had asked for. She knew the old men around her were checking her out, but she didn't care. She was deep in her thoughts, plus none of them had actually tried to pick her up yet. So, it was alright.
Jackie was on her second drink when Jackie noticed Jake Bradley and his friends sitting two tables from hers. She felt suddenly nervous. Was her presence in a bar, this late and on a school night going to raise suspicion about her lack of parental supervision? Did she need to hide? But, nobody knew about her father yet, she remembered, and she calmed down. She didn't have to worry about people finding out her parents left her to rot just yet. Thinking about it, all the acting to hide the cold facts shouldn't be that challenging. That whole act had started long ago, didn't it? Thinking about it, wasn't she in representation ever since the first time she had, secretly, started to realise the lie her parent's life was? The whole concept of riches as better people: it had become hard to stick to that concept after she had been able to compare the way her parents treated other people and how the Forman's did. Those values, she had somehow known, for a long time, they were all crap. She had just kept on with the façade. The precious façade. She had been taught to live two lives: the public one, cultivated to maintain a perfect image of beauty and wealth that justified the power you gained over others, and the real one that happened behind closed doors.
She had played the part of the snob and bitchy cheerleader for years, she knew it by heart. To Donna and Steven only, she had opened up. To them, she had shown her real self: the vulnerable one that cared and hurt. They weren't paying attention to her, apparently. That wasn't so bad after all, Jackie convinced herself. That way, she wouldn't have to work hard to pretend everything was alright. Cheerleader Jackie couldn't suffer real anguish, she felt everything superficially. She could be sad, not distressed. They wouldn't rush to her side.
The other cheerleader, they knew witch celebrity she most wanted to make-out with and what color of nail polish she thought was the most sophisticated: they were not a threat. They didn't know her enough at all. Jackie had talked to them a whole lot, but never said anything real or important. She was going to have to leave the squad though. Now, she was their leader. She had reigned over their squad like a queen. They had worshipped her; they had envied her; they had kissed her ass; they had hated her with a passion. Her father going to prison will be their feast. The queen bee shamed and ruined: this was going to be the feast of the hyenas. She was better off quitting tomorrow than be thrown out by some shameful ceremony: the cheerleaders had a talent for organized humiliation. If she gave her demission tomorrow at lunch, when hopefully the news about her dad wouldn't have broke out yet, maybe the squad would be too busy fighting about her replacement to bother with her too much. To help with that, Jackie knew what to say to subtlety rouse the hatred within the group before she left. There was a really she had been crowned; she knew how to play them. Now, she just had to use that wisdom to make her old friends, for lack of a better word, so concerted on hating each other that they wouldn't unite against her.
'Jackie, are you alright?' Jackie hadn't seen Jake Bradley stopping in front of her table in his way to the bathroom. She was so deep in thoughts that she didn't notice him even after he had talked. He had to shake her shoulder in order to break her concentration. It got her attention alright. She jerked so much that she spilled half of her drink on the table in front of her. She hadn't heard a word he had said. She was surprised to see him look at her with such concern in his eyes. She was just a little bitchy girl from his school having a drink at some bar, why did he care?
'Didn't mean to startled you, sorry. Are you okay? You're crying.'
She was not crying, was she? Jackie brought her hand to her eyes to check, damped. So, she had been crying. She was alone in a sleazy bar she wasn't old enough to be into, and she was crying. Good job psycho.
'Oh, hi Jake. I don't know why I'm so jumpy today. Don't worry; I'm just having a bad day.' It had taken her just a few seconds to recompose herself. She had her mask back on. She felt safe, and convincing. However, she had let her guard down and, apparently, what had shown before she regained her composure was enough to made the mask look fake. Jake was looking down at her. Why wasn't he turning away? He had done the nice thing, the one she knew parents like the Forman's taught their sons: if you see a girl crying, make sure she's alright. Jake had done the gentleman thing, she said she was fine; he could leave now and be done with it. She didn't recall being a bitch to him, he was one of the cool kids so that was doubtful, but Jake was one of the good guys and he probably despised her bitchy attitude. He didn't have to go the extra mile for her.
'Seriously Jake, I'm fine. I was just leaving. My parents are going to freak out if I don't come home soon; it's a school night after all.' He kept staring at her. Finally, he said:
'You probably want to wait a bit for the alcohol to get out of your system. You can come at our table, if you want. Oh wait, I took for granted that you drove here, did you? If you need a ride, I could give you one.'
Jackie felt herself getting shocked up, why was he so nice to her? God, she couldn't be so emotional, that was a dead giveaway. Get it together, she ordered herself.