A/N: Thank you all for the lovely comments! :D Here's CHAPTER FOUR. Enjoy!
Paige started up the steps to the high school, as she had every morning since she'd started attending. No one called out to her. No one pulled her aside. It mattered little; Paige McCullers held her head high.
"Paige!"
She ignored the call at first. It sounded like her name, but she'd likely heard it wrong. The mind's natural tendency to search for familiar patterns had betrayed her more than once.
"Paige, wait up!"
That stopped her. She turned around, sucking in a breath as she laid eyes on a grinning Emily. The other girl's cheeks were rosy from the cold, her hair tousled by the wind. A smile crept across her own face and she had to drop her gaze.
I'm so screwed.
"What's up?" asked Paige as Emily slipped alongside her.
Emily had recognized Paige as she'd started climbing the steps. She'd run to catch up, lungs burning from the chilly air, and when Paige had looked down at her with those eyes and that smile she'd felt a thrill shiver across her skin in a way that was unrelated to the piercing wind.
"I hope you don't think I'm weird," said Emily, reaching into her bag.
"Never," said Paige. She held the door open as Emily pulled out her folder. They headed for Emily's locker; as it turned out, Paige had passed right by it on her frantic morning hunt the week before.
As they drew to a halt, Emily pulled out the sheet that Mona had given her and handed it to Paige. "It's for you," she said. "To petition the athletic board. I talked to my coach and she said if you transferred because you moved, you're probably eligible to swim."
Paige stared at the paper, turning it over and over without really reading it. She clamped her lips together, locking her words behind them.
Emily's fingers worked at the hem of her shirt. She watched Paige, waiting for a response - any response. As the moments dragged on and Paige did not speak and did not tear her eyes from the sheet, Emily's fidgeting grew worse and worse.
"Paige? Is- is this okay? I didn't overstep any bounds, did I, because if I did, I-"
"Emily, this..." Paige shook her head and finally met Emily's gaze again. "I'm just so used to doing things myself, you know?" Her lip trembled and her jaw ached. She blinked.
Emily stepped forward. "Hey, it's okay," she said, wrapping Paige in a hug. A quick one, arms around Paige's shoulders and hands resting on the other girl's back. Paige shuddered once, twice beneath Emily's fingers before stepping away, snapping the embrace.
"Thanks," she said, sniffling. Her eyes were pink but she had not shed a tear. Excellent work, McCullers. Catastrophe avoided. "Hey, I guess this means we'll be teammates now."
Emily's smile warmed Paige from head to toe. "I guess so. Better bring your A-game. I won't go easy on you just because you're my friend."
Paige arched an eyebrow. "Hey, now. You're the one who needs to be worried. Paige McCullers takes no prisoners."
"Does Paige McCullers always talk about herself in the third person?" Emily laughed, leaning back against her locker, and Paige leaned in as she joined in Emily's mirth. When the bell rang, their toes were inches apart and their faces not much further. Paige reeled back.
"Well, ah, gotta go to class and all." She cleared her throat as heat flooded her cheeks. Emily shook her head, biting her lip as the flustered Paige gave a stilted wave and darted down the hallway.
Emily was the first one to the cafeteria, as usual. While she waited for the others, she stared at her phone. Samara had blatantly ignored every attempt Emily had made to contact her, and by Saturday evening, Emily had given up. She'd left the house that morning in a foul mood, brightening only when she'd caught sight of Paige. Without the other girl beside her, the irritation had seeped back in.
Hanna slipped into the seat beside her. "No word from the bitch yet?"
"She's not a bitch."
"Yes she is, Emily. Only a bitch pressures her girlfriend like that, and you know it. The sooner you break up with her, the better."
Emily groaned. "I'm working on it."
She turned her attention to her lunch, poking at the... well, it was edible, at least. Allegedly. Then Hanna practically jumped from her seat, hand flapping in the air, and Emily flinched.
"What are you-?"
"Paige! Paige, over here!"
Emily found Hanna's target, her gloom lifting just a bit as a smile flooded Paige's face. Then she glanced at her phone again.
Trapped. There was no way to win. Not yet.
Paige settled in, her tray knocking Emily's and her toes clipping Emily's boot. Spencer and Aria soon followed, and the group's typical chatter ensued. Paige managed to break into the conversation every once in a while, though from the looks the other three were exchanging, Emily was sure they were leaving deliberate openings for her to do so.
It could have been merely friendly, a way to make a new student feel welcome.
But this was Hanna, and Spencer, and Aria, and this was Paige, and this was Emily on the verge of being single again. This was a conspicuously silent cellphone, a blonde bitch who'd stomped on their friend's heart for the last time, and a new girl who had made no secret of her attraction.
It was not merely friendly. It could never be merely friendly. Not with them. Not like this.
Paige laughed at something that Aria said and caught Emily's eye. The other smiled, but only just. Paige leaned over her tray. "Hey," she said. "Do you think I could meet your coach? And the team?"
Emily considered a moment before nodding. "I think that would be all right. We have a practice today. If you come by the pool you can observe and I can introduce you after."
"Awesome. It's a date, then." She turned her attention back to the conversation. When she turned away, Emily glanced down at her phone once more.
Though she pretended otherwise, Paige caught the look. Smooth, McCullers. It had been a reflexive comment, something she'd picked up years ago when she'd first come out to tease her straight friends. "It's a date!" she'd say, and watch them squirm.
Emily hadn't squirmed; for that matter, she hadn't seemed to have reacted at all. Just looked back down at that damn phone, that same dejected look on her face.
It really hadn't been intentional, but once the words had slipped out, she kind of hoped there would be some reaction. She's definitely been flirting with me. I know she has. Whether the flirting was conscious or unconscious, Paige was unsure. She wasn't one to break up a relationship, not even for a girl like Emily, but she wasn't afraid to test that line, either.
Well, the line's been drawn. No more flirting.
When it came time to leave, she scooped up her tray and hurried off. She did not look back.
Paige leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees. Her feet bounced against the concrete beneath her feet. The shouts of the swimmers echoed tinny and loud in the open space, ricocheting off the ceiling and the choppy surface of the water. She gulped down a breath of the chlorinated oxygen. Her lungs itched from the chemical-laden air.
Then wet feet slapped against the floor and she looked up to find Emily Fields, grinning and dripping in front of her.
"So?" said Emily, turning her goggles over and over between her fingers.
"I missed this," said Paige, dropping her eyes from Emily to the shimmering blue water. Emily's teammates cut across her vision, arms slicing and bodies coiling and uncoiling as they hauled themselves further and faster. "Thanks again."
Emily started to speak but Coach Fulton interrupted her.
"Miss Fields! Nice work today, as usual. And who might this be?"
Paige popped upright, extending her hand and introducing herself. Fulton grinned, shaking Paige's hand. "I've heard about you, Miss McCullers. And I've heard you might be joining the team?"
"Working on it," said Paige. "I might be a bit rusty, though. I've never been this long out of the pool."
"Well, once you and your parents get through the red tape, we'll get you back in prime condition." Fulton continued to talk and Paige nodded along, but her mind skipped over that one word: parents.
Do I really have to involve them?
As soon as Fulton left, Paige pulled out the form. She flipped it over, scanning down the page.
Shit.
At the very bottom, she found the wrench in the machine. Parent/Guardian Signature.
"What's up?" asked Emily. She tried to catch Paige's eye. "Paige?"
"Nothing. Nothing, sorry." Paige jerked her head up. "I have to get going, though."
"Yeah, of course," said Emily. Paige began gathering up her things and Emily chewed her lip. As Paige began to leave, she stopped her. "Wait. Give me your phone."
Paige obliged, knitting her eyebrows. Emily grinned as she added herself as a contact and sent a short message to her own number. "No more playing hide and seek in the hallways," she said. "Let me know if I can help out with the petition, okay?"
The other girl shoved her phone in her pocket and sighed. "Yeah. I will. Thanks." She tried to smile but even she could tell the effort was weak. Without another word, she fled.
Nick McCullers droned on about… something. Paige wasn't sure. She'd started tuning him out ages ago.
"Paige?" His gruff voice startled her from her thoughts. Her eyes darted to his, then to her mother's, as they sat down to dinner. They can both stare at me, but they can barely look at each other.
"What?" She growled the question, slouching in her chair.
"I asked how your day was." Her father jabbed his fork into his food, eyes fixed on his daughter.
"Fine," she said. His knife scraped against the plate. He chewed. Swallowed. Her mother sipped her drink. Paige rapped her fingers on the table. "I want to join the swim team," she said.
Her father frowned. "Paige, we discussed this. You need to improve your grades. Swimming is just a distraction."
She pursed her lips and he looked away. "Please, Dad?"
"I said no, Paige." He set down his fork. "Don't ask again."
Paige turned to her mother. The woman's eyes were fixed on her plate. "Mom?" No reply.
Gritting her teeth, Paige scraped her chair back along the floor and flung herself upright. She grabbed her plate and marched to the kitchen, dumping it in the sink.
She thought she heard it shatter but she didn't turn around; she just stormed to the stairs and began to climb.
"Paige!" her father shouted. She heard his thundering steps. "Paige, come back here!" She was in her room. She slammed the door.
He was on the other side. His feet stretched shadows across the gash of light beneath the door. "Paige!" he said again. "Open this door."
She crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head. He said her name once more, lowering his voice. "I'm sorry, kiddo," he said. There was a soft sound, his hand dropping from the door frame, maybe. Then he was gone, shuffling down the hall and down the stairs.
Emily bent over her textbook. She read the same sentence over and over. She squeezed her eyes together and glanced at the clock. Only 8pm… can't sleep yet.
The swimmer hefted the book from her desk and flopped into the window seat. A change of location might help.
As she propped the book on her knees, her phone danced across the desk. Once, twice. She sprang from the seat, spilling the book on the floor, and seized the phone. Samara.
"Where have you been?" Her eyes flashed as she yelled into the phone.
"Can I see you?" Samara's voice filtered through the speaker. "Can I come over?"
"What if I don't want to see you?" said Emily, spitting the words as though they seared her tongue.
Samara sighed. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But I want to talk to you face-to-face."
Emily heaved a sigh. "Fine." I'm not the kind of girl who breaks up with someone over the phone. She hung up and tossed her phone on the bed with a snort.
She waited for Samara at the window, and when she saw the girl's car pull into her driveway, she floated down the stairs and out the door.
Samara did not speak at first, not after Emily swept into her car with all the force of a hurricane and not after Emily fixed her with a stare that could have melted iron.
It wasn't until Emily drew a breath to speak that Samara moved her lips.
"I'm sorry," she said, staring out the windshield. Night had completely fallen, wrapping the car in its embrace. Inside, they had only the glow of Samara's dashboard, the light of the radio that still hummed with a top 40 station just above the threshold of hearing.
"I don't care," said Emily.
Samara's eyes gleamed in the blue light, eyelashes glinting as she blinked. "I don't blame you."
"I don't care if you do blame me. I don't care anymore, Samara. I'm tired of this."
The blonde leaned back, tipping her head against the headrest. Her hands hung from the steering wheel, anchored only by residual friction. "What are you saying?"
Emily took a deep breath. "I'm saying…" She closed her eyes and let it go. "I'm saying it's over. I'm done."
Samara bit her cheek as tears welled in her eyes. "Don't." She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Emily."
Emily's sternness faltered as Samara hiccupped. As out of line as she was, I did still care for her. I do.
She reached out, resting her hand on her now-ex-girlfriend's arm. Samara flinched, then squared her jaw and whirled around, grabbing Emily and pulling her into a kiss.
It was so familiar, the way their lips fit together. Practiced. Despite the hot tears rolling down Samara's cheeks, despite the way she clutched at Emily, there was that nugget of comfort.
But Emily remembered the party, the derision in Samara's eyes, how small she had felt. She reeled back. Their lips tore apart and she bumped her head on the glass.
"I'm done," she said. "It's over." Her hands fumbled with the latch. She stumbled out of the car when the door opened, slamming it as hard as she could and running for the house. Samara shouted her name behind her, rolled down the window to yell, but Emily bolted inside and locked the door.
She watched from the window, peeking through the blinds, as Samara tried to call her. Once. She felt it in her pocket. Twice. She took it out. Two missed calls. Thrice. A voicemail.
She deleted it without listening.
Samara sat in the driveway for a while, leaning on the steering wheel and staring at the house. Emily waited. At last, after what seemed like hours, the blonde revved the engine and drove away, taillights streaking down the darkened street.
Paige paced back and forth, petition form in her hands. It was crinkled and creased from her worrying, folding it and unfolding it, gripping it so tightly that it crumpled beneath her fingers.
They had said no.
The empty line – Parent/Guardian Signature – gaped beneath her thumb.
She flicked the sheet on the bed.
Paige had just begun her homework when her phone buzzed. A call. Emily.
I have Emily's phone number.
Paige grinned and answered.
"Hey," said Emily, sniffling. Paige's smile vanished.
"Whoah, are you okay?" she asked. There was a pause.
"I'll be fine. I just wanted to know what the verdict was on the swim petition."
"Oh. Well…" Paige picked up the form again.
Emily gave a strangled laugh. "Paige, I really need some good news right now."
She let the sheet flutter down again. "Is me joining the team good news?"
"That would be great news."
Paige glanced at the paper one last time and shrugged. "In that case… I'm joining the team."
She couldn't help but grin at the laughter on the other end.
They talked for a while about swimming and school, until a lull crept into the conversation and Paige couldn't stop herself. "Do you mind if I ask why you needed good news?"
"Oh."
Paige leaned back on her bed, drumming her fingers over her stomach. She shifted her legs. The petition crinkled beneath her heel. She frowned at it, but snapped back to attention at Emily's voice. "I told you about my girlfriend, right?"
You certainly did. "Yeah?"
"Well… we broke up." Emily's voice quavered and Paige pulled herself up and her legs beneath her to sit cross-legged. She pulled a pillow across her lap and hugged it against her chest.
"Oh, man. I'm sorry. That sucks."
Emily laughed and Paige raised an eyebrow. "Not really," said Emily. "It was a long time coming. She wasn't right for me. And I broke up with her, so there's that."
"Are you happy?" asked Paige.
"I'm getting there," replied the other girl. "I feel free, at least."
"I'm glad to hear it. And if you need anything… well, I'll be here for you."
"Thanks, Paige."
They exchanged a few more words before Emily declared that she needed to sleep and they wished each other a good night. Paige flopped back on the bed as she hung up, glancing at her clock.
Oh, geez. Two hours? I met this girl… Thursday, Friday… four days ago.
She stared at the ceiling before she remembered the sheet at the foot of her bed.
In a flash she was up, seizing the paper and slamming it onto her desk. She snatched up a pen, bit off the cap with her teeth, and let it hover above that empty line.
She touched the tip to the paper and steadied her breathing.
Screw them. I'm going to swim.
The first thing she did the next morning was march to the administrators' office. The girl behind the desk gave her a pointed look when she offered forth the crumpled, dog-eared sheet, but Paige returned the look with what she hoped was an intimidating one of her own.
Mona laid the sheet atop her to-do pile and Paige strode into the hallway, task complete.
The sheet made its way through the system. Bespectacled eyes peered at it. It gathered more signatures. It took a trip courtesy of the United States Postal Service.
No one paid much attention to the signature. The last name matched the student's. The handwriting was confident.
The sheet was pressed in the bed of a copy machine. As it made its way into a filing cabinet in a distant Pennsylvania suburb, a pair of copies zipped back to Rosewood. One made its way into the hands of Paige McCullers, who shredded it as soon as her spot on the team was confirmed.
The other found its way to the desk of one Mona Vanderwaal. She did her duty and filed it away.
It slept, day after day, in the filing cabinet. The forged signature itched, but it was silent.
It waited.
It would not have to wait long.
A/N: There we go! Emily's made her decision about Samara and Paige has decided to just do what she wants. Of course, neither one is going to get out of this unscathed. What would be the point of reading if there were no conflict? But I'll let them think they're fine... for now.
As always, gimme yo feedback! I love reading it. I still get that nervous, sinking feeling in my stomach when I see an email notification for a review. And then usually my fears are unfounded, because you're all lovely people. So: comments, reviews, questions, concerns, recipes, poems, rants, your world history essay on Archduke Franz Ferdinand*, all are welcome! See you all next week!
*Please don't send me your world history essay on Archduke Franz Ferdinand; I'd rather not relive that.