Chapter Four: Scar Tissue

Gretchen almost hated to admit it, but her initial reaction to getting her roommate assignment for Oberlin had been one of unadulterated horror. She thought at first that it had to be a mistake. The housing office must have meant a different Regina George. Regina hadn't even mentioned that she was applying to Oberlin, although, it wasn't like Gretchen talked to her much anymore. But then, why would the two completely different Regina Georges have the same exact email address that Gretchen had memorized long ago – QueenRegina999 ? So, Gretchen concluded it must have been some sort of mistake. And a really weird one at that. She definitely hadn't requested Regina as a roommate and couldn't imagine why Regina would have chosen her (after all, they weren't even officially friends anymore – which still seemed weird to Gretchen after years of sleepovers and note passing).

But regardless of how much Regina seemed to have changed since Junior Year, Gretchen was in no way looking forward to rooming with someone who, in all honestly, had made much of her middle and high school career a huge, miserable pain. She wanted to forget all about high school – even if parts of it had actually been undeniably pretty awesome. And how the hell was she supposed to forget about high school when probably the only other person from North Shore High was her roommate?

Gretchen's mother completely missed why the rooming situation was the worst possible thing.

"Oh, how nice! That should be fun! I haven't seen Regina around for the longest time. What is she up to these days?"

"How nice?!" Gretchen repeated shrilly, near tears. "How is that NICE? This is totally the worst possible thing ever! This sucks!"

So Gretchen wrote a long email to the housing services, requesting that they change her room assignment ASAP. After she had sent it, Gretchen checked her inbox at least twenty times a day, until finally, in mid-August, the housing director responded with: "Dear Ms. Wieners, I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience your room assignment has caused. Unfortunately, this is a very busy time of year and we still have several students who need to be placed. Therefore, we will not be able to switch room assignments until the semester begins. However, if both you and Ms. George decide it isn't working out, don't hesitate to contact us. Hope you have a wonderful rest of the summer!"

Yeah, of course I'll have a wonderful rest of the summer, Gretchen thought bitterly.

But then, during the last week of August, something rather strange happened. Gretchen's family had invited the Georges for dinner to celebrate the end of their daughters' childhood (and, as far as Gretchen was concerned, the end of the world – or at the very least, the end of her life) and Regina had seemed oddly subdued – even vulnerable - her eyes sad and faraway. She picked at her chicken and stirred her mashed potatoes around, all the while avoiding eye contact and mumbling only a few words. Gretchen couldn't help feeling oddly disconcerted. Had Regina recently started some new medication that wiped away her personality or something?

Gretchen herself, meanwhile, had gone as far out of her way to be bubbly and excited as she ever had. And, really, she couldn't deny that she was excited about school for the most part. As long as she could stay out of Regina's way and avoid being the same loser who let everyone (and by "everyone," she mostly meant Regina) push her around, she figured it would have to work out. After all, she was going to be taking a class on Scuba Diving! And Japanese! And Glass Blowing! And hell, even a class in Buffy the Vampire Slayer! How fetch was that?

"I'm really glad I'm not going to be rooming with a stranger," Regina said at some point during the night and her voice was so shaken and vulnerable that Gretchen instantly felt awful for trying to avoid her.

"Yeah, me too," Gretchen said after a while, smiling brightly. Regina smiled back, but still looked somber.

During most of the early semester, Gretchen rarely even saw Regina. She was, though not entirely by choice, one of those roommates who only used the dorm for storage and for sleep – although later in the semester, she realized that Regina spent most her time in the library and took the opportunity to invite people over. When she did see Regina, however, she seemed perfectly friendly and normal – or at least as friendly and normal as a reformed mean girl can expect to be. Gretchen had to admit that she had never been more afraid of Regina – even in middle school. Because at least that Regina was up front about her meanness. This new version, Regina 2.0, was like a ticking time bomb and Gretchen really didn't want to be around if or when she finally exploded.

It wasn't until Homecoming weekend that Gretchen realized how tragic Regina's social life had somehow become. Gretchen had invited her to a party with a few artsy friends from Glass Blowing and Art Club (which she had only done after discovering – to her surprise – that Regina didn't have plans). Half-way through a round of Jell-O Shooters, Gretchen realized that Regina was missing. She found her outside, alone, looking at the stars and crying silently.

When she saw Gretchen timidly approach her, Regina didn't even bother wiping her eyes – or even her nose, for that matter.

"Um, what's the matter?" Gretchen had asked as delicately as she could.

"People don't like me here, do they?" Regina said. Her voice sounded calm and collected, a little wistful, but out-of-sync with her sobbing.

"Of course they do!" Gretchen said quickly, proving that, in spite of everything, she was still the same "Yes Girl" she was in high school.

"No, they don't. But that's okay. I wouldn't like me, either."

"O-M-G, they probably just don't know you! That's all!" Gretchen said.

Regina sighed heavily and stared ahead, her eyes blank. "Thanks, Gretchen," she said after a while. "Sorry I'm being such a bummer tonight. I'm really no fun at all anymore, am I?"

Gretchen couldn't really deny that. Regina had only said a few sentences to Gretchen's art club friends all night, although Gretchen supposed they probably weren't Regina's type. Then again, she reasoned, were they really her type either? Gretchen didn't get a lot of time to stop and think about it, but she was starting to think she didn't really have a "type." Yeah, she was in at least eight different groups, but there's a huge difference between being in a group and belonging to one.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Gretchen figured she should say something. She felt bad for Regina, even if she was bringing it on herself by acting all boring and antisocial. And besides, didn't she, in some ways, kind of deserve it? Gretchen had never been big on karma, but maybe this was the price Regina had to pay for being such an epic bitch all throughout elementary-high school (although, if it was a case of karmic retribution, wasn't getting hit by a bus enough?)

"You know, Regina," Gretchen said and paused. "Um…if you ever want to talk or anything, like, I'm totally here for you."

"Thanks, Gretch," Regina said, looking over and smiling sadly. "You're a good friend."

Yeah, Gretchen thought guiltily. A good friend who is terrified of you. A good friend who really only said that because there wasn't anything else to say. A good friend who will probably avoid you for the rest of the semester…

And now, it seemed like the Regina of old had finally resurfaced. Now that Gretchen's anger had subsided, she was terrified. After all, she had slammed the door and huffed off – something she would never consider doing in high school. What would Regina say when she got back? In fifth grade, before Karen had joined the group, Gretchen had (sort of) talked back to Regina about not wanting to buy Regina and Janis candy with her own lunch money. Regina, (along with Janis, who Gretchen always saw as a co-Alpha, rather than a Beta), struck back by changing their made-up Four Square rules when Gretchen was absent from school and then made her feel completely nuts for not understanding. Of course, Gretchen was well aware that Regina didn't have the same kind of social power here (or, to be honest, any power at all), but she still felt a familiar sense of dread well up in her stomach at the thought of facing her angry roommate.

Gretchen's phone buzzed sharply, scaring her out of her reverie. "Message from Simon," her IPhone said. Gretchen groaned inwardly. She didn't necessarily dislike Simon, the junior who was her lab partner in Rainforest Biology, but he did almost always seem to have tuna fish stuck in his braces and usually smelled like he had eaten a pure garlic sandwich. He also had an annoying habit of cracking his knuckles every fifteen minutes.

But the real problem Gretchen had with Simon was that the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to her (more so than when she messed everything up at the holiday pageant or when Karen told everyone about how she had diarrhea at Barns and Noble or even when Grandma Olga sent her pink bunny pajamas and her parents made her put them on for the Christmas party) had happened in front of Simon and he refused to let her forget about it.

The embarrassing thing was, of course, when she fainted from hunger during the lab portion of class. Rainforest Biology only met on Wednesday, but it was an extremely hectic and strenuous class. Had Gretchen known about the schedule ahead of time, she would have never bothered to even consider thinking about taking it. The lecture half of the class went from 3:30 to 5:30 with the lab following directly after until 8:00. Professor Reid usually gave the class breaks to get food and/or coffee and Gretchen had really meant to get something from the cafeteria, but she needed to talk to Professor Reid about why she hadn't finished last week's lab and by the time he was finished explaining the extra credit, the cafeteria had already closed and, since she only had a debit card, the vending machine was out of the question, too. She wasn't that hungry, anyway, even though she was pretty sure she hadn't had lunch or breakfast that day either.

She had felt mildly okay for the lecture half of class, but once Professor Reid handed them their pickled piranhas for dissection, something began to feel very off. The smell of formaldehyde, garlic and Simon's body odor seemed amped-up and people's voices were slightly out-of-sync with their mouth movements –like on a badly rendered YouTube video. She was dizzy, but not in the spinning, drunk kind of way she was at least semi-used to. It was more the "lightheaded" kind of dizziness, except that her whole body felt light, hollow, weak, empty – like she wasn't all the way there.

"We should name our fish," Simon had been saying. "How about Herbert? Herbert alright with you?"

"Huh? Um, sure," Gretchen said, but her voice sounded strangely echoed. At some point, while Simon was making "Herbert" swim around (because at age 20, he was apparently still a preschooler), she raised her trembling hand, which made her whole arm sore from the effort. "Um, Professor Reid?" she said so quietly and shakily that she was surprised he even heard her.

"Yeah, Gretchen," said Professor Reid. "What can I do for ya?"

"Um, I don't feel so great," Gretchen was pretty sure she said.

"No? What do you mean 'not so great?'" the professor asked.

"I don't know. Just…I feel funny?…I guess."

"You do look a little green around the gills," said Simon, pushing "Herbert" toward her side of the table. "Get it? Green around the gills?"

Gretchen sighed and rested her head on the table, an icy cold wave of nausea settling in her stomach.

"Are you going to barf?" Simon asked. Gretchen nodded slightly, although she knew very well that she had absolutely nothing to speak of to throw up.

"Well, would you like to take off early, then?" asked Professor Reid. "I'm sure Simon will let you borrow his notes."

"Yeah, sure," agreed Simon, still focusing intently on the dead fish.

But Gretchen had already missed one-too-many classes and besides, it was almost 7:00 anyway. "No, um, I think I just need to get some water," she said.

Professor Reid nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. But if you change your mind and want to leave later, let me know."

Gretchen nodded, but kept her head down. Getting up was just too much work. Then, Simon loudly cracked his thumb knuckle and she was so disgusted that she clambered to her feet. Blood rushed to her head and tiny, white sparkles danced in front of her vision. Her knees and ankles gave out and she collapsed.

Although Gretchen definitely didn't ask, a few of her classmates couldn't resist telling her everything that had happened while she was unconscious. And she was sort of glad she had been unconscious because everything that had happened was so beyond-excruciating she wished she could still drop the class without getting an F for the semester. The first thing was that she smacked her forehead on the table, but she already knew this because of the gash and ugly, purple bruise that had taken weeks to fade away completely, regardless of how much cover-up she applied. The second thing, which was even more embarrassing, was that Simon had started crying, allegedly because he thought it was somehow his fault – although she had no idea what gave him that idea. "She said she wasn't feeling so great," Simon whimpered. "I didn't think she would actually faint."

Professor Reid assured him that this kind of thing happened at least twice a semester during dissections, which was why he kept a supply of smelling salts in the lab. And then, he couldn't resist making her unfortunate situation a learning opportunity for the rest of the class by asking if anyone could identify the chemical make-up of smelling salts (which Gretchen was pretty sure was ammonia and something else). But then the smelling salts didn't work right away and everyone in the class started freaking out (aside from Professor Reid, who kept saying: "give her a few seconds").

The sharp, burning smell jolted her awake and she sat up so quickly she slammed the back of her head into a table leg. "Ow," she mumbled.

"Hey, welcome back," Professor Reid said, smiling. "We all thought we lost you there for a second."

"Yeah," said Simon, tearfully, kneeling down beside her. "Are you okay?"

Gretchen put her hand to her forehead and felt something warm and wet. "Oh my God!" she shrieked. "Oh my God, am I bleeding?" The room spun, her eyelids fluttered, and her eyes started to roll back.

"Gretchen!" the professor shouted sounding genuinely worried for the first time. "Stay with us, here, okay? Don't pass out again! Look at me!"

Gretchen shook her head quickly and met his gaze.

"Did you eat anything today?" Simon asked.

Gretchen tried to think, but her brain felt sluggish. "Yeah, of course I did. Probably. Oh, wait. Actually, no. I like totally didn't have time."

"Yeah, your blood sugar's probably low," said Simon, smugly. He was a pre-med student and had already gotten an early acceptance to Harvard Med School, despite his penchant for using medical terms like "barf" and "green-around-the-gills."

"Plus this is a really long class," Professor Reid conceded. "Next semester, I'm definitely not going to schedule it this way. You're probably fine, but you might want to have it checked out at the hospital."

"I could drive her there," said Simon suddenly.

"WHAT?" Gretchen asked.

Professor Reid nodded. "Good idea. Thanks, Simon."

"No, really, that's okay," Gretchen said quickly, "I'll…um…I'll go to Student Health tomorrow – for realizes." Then she was embarrassed for saying "realizes," or at least she would have been if she hadn't already had the most humiliating night of her life.

Professor Reid nodded good-naturedly, but Simon folded his arms across his chest and glared. "Personally, as a pre-med student, I think you should go right now," he said in the most excruciating way one can possibly say that particular sentence.

Somehow, Simon had ended up getting his way (which, Gretchen suspected, was probably because she was still such a wimpy pushover) and they spent nearly half-an-hour getting hopelessly lost on the way to the hospital. Gretchen continued to embarrass herself by crying nonstop the entire time – which was impressive, even for her. Because now she was always, always, always going to be remembered as the girl who fainted in biology, not even because cutting something open was gross, but because she was hungry. Simon was, surprisingly enough, nice enough to not tell her to shut the hell up and offered her a dirty, used handkerchief from his glove box – because of course he did.

But that wasn't even the end of it because once they finally got to the hospital, things got even worse, especially after the nurse was barely able to insert the IV and couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that no, Gretchen not anorexic; she was just busy – and stupid, apparently.

Nearly an hour later, Regina came rushing into the hospital room. "Oh my GOD!" she said breathlessly. "Your lab partner just texted me and said you passed out in class. What happened? Are you okay?"

Gretchen could not fathom how or why Simon had Regina's phone number and, frankly, the idea of it was a little creepy to her. As soon as she saw Regina, however, she broke into fresh tears. "E-everyone thinks I'm a pathetic freak," she wailed instead of answering either of Regina's questions. "A-and the nurse thinks I'm anorexic even though I'm like so not! And now she's probably going to call my parents and I'll have to leave school and see a therapist and maybe go into treatment like Karen! And then I'll, like, fail everything because I can't even drop classes anymore – even though I'm probably going to fail everything anyway. And everyone is always going to remember me as a stupid, anorexic freak and they're going to tell every single person at the school about it." She stopped to take a breath. Gretchen had to hand it to Regina. She was still listening intently and sympathetically.

"Aw, Gretch," said Regina, suddenly giving her a tight hug. "I'm sure it can't be THAT bad. I'll bet by next week, everyone will have forgotten all about it."

Unfortunately, Regina was wrong. Everyone had absolutely NOT forgotten about it one week later. Professor Reid was, surprisingly, nice enough not to mention it. Gretchen's classmates, on the other hand, were more than happy to rehash the whole thing. Apparently, Oberlin was an even lamer place than Gretchen had realized, because no one had anything better to talk about than her hospital visit and rumors had been zipping around campus all week. Aside from the obvious accusations of anorexia, people had been going with everything from diabetes to a stroke to the really obscure notion that Simon had somehow roofied her and had tried to rape her on the way to the hospital.

Worse than any rumor, though, was Simon himself, who Gretchen realized to her great dismay, had somehow decided he had the biggest crush on her ever despite paying almost no attention to her at all pre-fainting-in-class/hospital-visit. Apparently, smacking her head and crying hysterically in the car had turned him on somehow. And this turned out to be the most embarrassing part of the whole ideal. Because Simon would just not stop asking her how she was feeling or if she was okay. He'd even started texting her about it.

She looked down at her phone, expecting to see the typical "RUOK?" message. To her surprise, however, Simon's text said "where are you?" Where am I? Gretchen thought to herself. Why the hell does he want to know that? Then suddenly, it came to her and her blood turned to ice. They were supposed to go over their lab notes. How could she have forgotten? Not driving Naomi and company to the Halloween Benefit at the Animal Shelter was one thing, but completely spacing out on something for class? What was the matter with her? She was beginning to wonder if she had gotten brain damage from hitting her head on the table when she passed out. "Super sry!" she texted back to Simon. "Totally forgot! On my way!"

Almost immediately, her phone buzzed. "RUOK?" Simon wanted to know.