A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the delay on this, I know I promised not to do that anymore...the last few weeks before traveling for the holidays are always busy, whereas vacations home are typically full of writing time, but some really unexpected work obligations came up this time. Plus, the structure for this chapter gave me an unusually difficult time to figure out. Should be quicker from here on out! As always, love and appreciate all your feedback...and your saintlike patience.
Your name is the splinter inside me, while I wait.
Winter / Joshua Radin
Text Message, Friday, 3:22 pm
ALEX
[Hey, Mom, I'm heading home for the weekend. Sorry for the last minute notice, didn't know until today if I could borrow Nicky's car.]
MOM
[I don't need notice for u babe. everything okay?]
ALEX
[Yeah. Piper and I broke up last week though, and I need a break from the dorm room.]
MOM
[Al. what happened?]
[Why didn't you call me?]
ALEX
[Can we just talk when I get home? I'm about to leave.]
MOM
[yeah, baby, you drive straight here.]
[I'll try to get off early and meet you.]
ALEX
[Don't do that. No rush.]
MOM
[be home as soon as I can.]
[be careful.]
[I love you.]
ALEX
[Love you, too. See you soon.]
After her last class of the day, Alex goes straight to Fisher and signs out for the weekend, gives them her mom's cell number to confirm that she does, in fact, go home. Pulling off campus, her breathing goes sideways for a second with the unbidden realization that Piper won't know she's gone until Fisher comes by tonight and says so.
But there's a soothing monotony to the drive home. Alex plugs her phone into Nicky's car radio and puts on an album she loved in middle school, listening to songs she hasn't sought out in years so they don't make her think of Piper, not a single note or lyric tied to her.
The dirt driveway outside their trailer is empty when Alex pulls Nicky's car in; her mom must not have been able to leave her shift early. Alex is relieved to have gotten breaking the news over with in a text, a few hours before she'll actually have to see her mom's reaction.
She hasn't been sleeping well, only a few shallow hours on the couch every night, so the first thing she does is drop her bags on the couch and drop heavily onto her bed. It's really her mom's, now, even though she always insists on giving it up when Alex is home. It smells like Diane: vanilla lotion, french fry grease, and cigarettes.
Alex burrows under the comforter and presses her face to the pillow, letting herself drift off to the scent of childhood comfort, evoking a time when her mother was the only person in the world she loved, which meant never getting her heart broken.
Later, she wakes up with Diane's fingers combing through her hair, and just like that Alex's barely open eyes tear over.
"Hey, Mom."
"Hey, baby," she murmurs, tender as a bruise. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She says it like there's no other answer to the question.
It is the white lie wrapped gift Alex gives her mom, ever since she was around ten years old and slowly began to realize other people's parents didn't work as hard as hers did. That's when she stopped complaining to her mom about things she couldn't fix anyway: other kids at school, how bored she got alone in the apartment, shoes she didn't have.
She never wants to be another thing her mother has to worry about.
Diane half smiles like she doesn't believe her, but doesn't say so. Maybe this is her own white lie; letting Alex think she's protecting her.
Instead, her mom straightens the collar of Alex's shirt, grin turning more sincere. "Don't think I've seen you wear this thing since your freshmen year."
"Oh, yeah...I left straight from class, so. No time to change." She'd packed hastily during her free period. These days, that's the only extended time she spends in the dorm room.
"I brought home food. Want to come eat?"
They have burgers and fries on the couch, and Alex loves her mom for not immediately bombarding her with questions. Instead, she asks about last week's soccer game, and an essay Alex turned in recently, and then catches Alex up on her friends from the restaurant and her new manager at Wal-Mart. It's like she can sense Alex needs the relieving balm of her presence for at least a little while before they peel back the band-aid and examine the wound.
The food is gone and plates thrown away before Diane reaches out and covers Alex's hand along the back of the couch, her voice gentle. "Ready to tell me what happened?"
With obvious reluctance, Alex nods, and her mom quickly adds, "Short or long version, whatever you want...and then we're gonna sit here and watch something dumb and funny."
Eyes downcast, Alex hesitates to start, already dreading the way sympathy will take over her mom's face once she does. All day, since she decided to come here, Alex has wanted her mother in the most simple, childish way possible, like she's four years old and can crawl into her lap.
But now that she's here, Alex can't shed the instinctive need to seem tough enough to handle this.
"Al?" Diane moves her hand to Alex's hair. "Babe, what happened?"
For the first time, her voice betrays a throb of genuine shock, and Alex sinks lower onto the couch. "It's just been...kinda hard. For awhile. Because, um. You know Polly, the girl who dates Piper's brother?"
"Mmm-hmm, her tennis partner, right?"
"Yeah. Well, before Thanksgiving break last semester, she saw us kissing, outside our dorm room. It was when we were doing that Shakespeare project, and Piper made up some excuse...she didn't tell her the truth, anyway, and I guess she bought it, but. Piper's been freaked out ever since, worried about people finding out, especially her brother, I guess, so...she was kind of pulling away, and weird in public, especially at the dance..." Alex stumbles, pauses, then makes a decision. "I don't know, I guess she got tired to worrying."
"She just ended it?"
"Yeah." Alex's voice is thin, and barely audible, so her mom doesn't hear how furious she is at herself.
She can't tell her mom about the cheating. There is a foolish, traitorous need boring into her skin: to preserve Diane's good opinion of Piper. Which must mean some small part of Alex still believes what her mom thinks of Piper might be relevant again someday.
Alex swallows and searches for a compromise, some way to make sure Piper still sounds like the bad guy. "It was really out of nowhere and just...no negotiation, you know?"
"I'm so sorry, Al. That's shit." Diane's quiet for a moment, her fingers still dipping through Alex's hair in gentle, consoling strokes. "Hey." She waits until Alex drags her eyes sideways. "She still love you?"
Unwilling tears knot up in Alex's throat, because of course she can't get through a single conversation about this without them making an appearance. Biting her lip, she nods.
Diane makes a low, humming affirmative noise. "Then I'm sad for both of you." She slides closer on the couch, wrapping an arm around Alex's shoulder.
Alex ducks her head so it tucks neatly under her mom's chin, out of sight when the tears brim over.
Maybe this is just another weakness, that she's got all this anger for Piper burrowing between her ribs, but there's still some deep rooted loyalty stopping her from passing that anger to anyone else. Alex keeps wondering that, how it is that love got so strong it made the rest of her weak.
Because even her anger can't sustain for very long; it keeps losing its voice. Alex knows Piper too well - she loves her too much - to be as mad as she needs to be, mad enough to drown out how much she misses her.
She loves Piper all the way through: her good parts, but also the scared pieces. Even the selfishness hidden in her corners.
"How's it been this week?" Diane is asking now. "I know it's gotta be hard...fuck, you share a room, have the same friends..."
"She's not really hanging out with us anymore," Alex mutters. "I...I can't be friends with her, Mom. It won't work."
"I get that. That's tough." Diane kisses the side of her head, then waits, giving Alex the choice to fill the silence. When she doesn't, her mom cheers her voice up and says, "So what do we wanna watch? I took off tonight and tomorrow, so I'm all yours."
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know I didn't. But I never get to see you on random weekends in February. Gotta seize the days." She grabs the remote. "Hook your laptop up, babe, we can pull up Netflix."
"It's Piper's account."
"I don't think she's changed the password on you."
They put on old episodes of Cheers, and Alex leans into her mom's side to watch. It feels safe here in a way that school hasn't for the past week.
Text Message, Friday, 5:45 pm
POUSSEY
[Hey just wanted to give you a heads up Alex went home for the weekend.]
[Just so you're not worried when she doesn't show up for check]
PIPER
[Oh okay. Thanks.]
[Is everything okay? With like her mom and everything?]
POUSSEY
[Yeah I think she just wanted to see her.]
PIPER
[Got it.]
[How's she getting there?]
POUSSEY
[Nicky loaned her her car.]
PIPER
[That was nice of her.]
POUSSEY
[You mean shocking.]
PIPER
[Ha.]
[You wanna hang out tonight maybe? Watch a movie or something?]
POUSSEY
[Actually I think J and Nicky and me are gonna order a pizza and do a bad movie night.]
[You could maybe come if you wanted?]
PIPER
[Probably not a good idea.]
[Don't wanna put you guys in a weird position with Alex.]
POUSSEY
[You sure? I feel bad.]
PIPER
[It's really fine. Don't feel bad. I should feel bad.]
POUSSEY
[I'll hit you up tomorrow, k? We can chill at some point.]
PIPER
[Okay. I'm good anytime.]
[Thanks.]
Piper's spent a lot of this past week feeling physically off kilter. It's like a full body version of a crick in the neck, the kind that comes from sleeping wrong - sleeping alone when she's not used to it, maybe.
The sick sensation redoubles after Poussey tells her Alex went home for the weekend: none of them have taken a random weekend home in the year and a half she's been here. It's proof of how upset Alex still is.
And, God, that means she'll tell her mom everything. Diane will hate Piper. The kind of hate that's powerful enough to reach back in time, retroactively destroy any approval or affection. She'd been proud that Diane Vause liked her so much, that Alex's mom so clearly believed their relationship was a good thing.
Piper stays in her room and eats a granola bar instead of going to dinner; she's been skipping meals periodically all week. Her new dining hall routine involves sitting with Polly's group, while her old table and her old friends and her old life are right there watching, and Piper can't always face it.
Even though it's Friday night, she does all her homework for the weekend, and then turns off the lights and opens her laptop. Cheers is in the Continue Watching section of her Netflix page, and Piper's heart skitters foolishly, as though Alex still using her account is something much more deliberate, something that counts as a broken silence.
She'd never seen that show before visiting Alex last summer; they'd watched it on the few evenings when Diane was home for a a couple hours between shifts. Stupidly, Piper turns it on now, watches the last few played episodes, desperate for even that tenuous a connection.
That night, she sleeps in Alex's bed. She's thought about it before, but hasn't been able to entirely shake off the hope that Alex might come back to the room in the middle of the night.
The weekend is good for Alex. True to her word, her mom is off all Saturday. Alex sleeps past noon, making up for the last restless week on the dorm couch, and then she and Diane go to a movie and out to dinner at a halfway decent restaurant. Her mom doesn't make her talk about Piper anymore, which makes her presence all the more comforting. Nearly as relieving is the certainty that Alex won't see Piper at all today, her Alex of the conflicting dread and anticipation usually thrashing against each other inside her chest.
On Sunday she goes with her mom to work, setting up at a table with her laptop and textbooks as though Friendly's is a coffee shop. Diane brings her cheese fries or milkshakes throughout the day while Alex catches up on her homework.
She orders a burger for her actual dinner at six; she'll have to leave from here in an hour to check back into campus on time, so Diane goes on break and comes to sit across from her.
"We gotta talk serious for a second, babe," her mom says almost apologetically when Alex's plate is nearly empty.
A heaviness settles into Alex's stomach right away, but she nods in acquiescence.
"Okay. Here's the thing, Al. I know things must be shit at school right now. And it's okay to be sad. Fuck, of course you're gonna be sad. But...you gotta promise you'll tell me if it gets too bad. If it starts...you know, getting in the way of school, or soccer, or even just you having fun with your friends...we'll figure that out. But you gotta let me know, okay?"
"Yeah. Okay," Alex murmurs, wilting a little at this confirmation that she's not fooling anyone. Of course her mom can see how mangled she is. Swallowing, she makes her voice stronger and adds, "I'm gonna be fine, though. Promise." Only after the words have passed her lips does Alex vow to make them true.
She owes her mom more than turning into a fuck-up who can only cope with the world when she's stoned.
Her mom walks her to Nicky's car in the restaurant parking lot and hugs her for a long time.
"It was so fuckin' good to see you this weekend, baby." She pulls back, her smile gentle. "You come home any weekend you want, okay? If you can't always borrow a car, we'll work something out. Just say the word, I'll come and getcha."
"Thanks, Mom. I will."
"Text me when you get back safe. I love you so much."
"Love you, too."
The ride back to Litchfield is sickening, anxiety thumping in her chest like a fist, so much so that when she's twenty minutes away, Alex pulls over and composes a text to Fisher claiming car trouble, so she can get away with checking in after light's out.
Before she sends it, disgust at her own impulse rolls through her stomach, so strong that Alex overcompensates, deciding to sleep in her own bed tonight.
Alex parks in the student parking lot and takes Nicky her keys just time to get back to her and Piper's room for check.
She puts on headphones, turns her music loud enough that she can't hear whatever Piper says when she walks in the room, though Alex doesn't miss the quickest glimpse of Piper's expression: an instinctive flicker of being glad to see her.
She unpacks with her back to Piper's side of the room and changes into pajamas. She doesn't look at Piper again, not even in the periphery, and keeps music on until they're standing outside the dorm and Fisher comes by for count.
"You were supposed come sign back in with me right away," Susan lightly admonishes her.
"Sorry. I've literally been back for twenty minutes, knew you were about to come by."
"Just remember for next time."
"Sorry," Alex repeats, and when Fisher moves onto the next room, Alex vaults off the corridor wall and heads to Nicky and Janae's room and stays there until past light's out.
It's dark when she creeps back into her room, save for for the glow from Piper's laptop.
"Hey." Piper's voice floats down from her bed, brimming over with surprise.
Alex closes the door behind her without answering, waiting until she's climbed into her own bed before saying flatly, "I'm sick of sleeping on a couch because of you. That's all this is."
She can hear Piper's breathing turn rough, like she's having to forcibly drag air into her body. Alex turns on her side and curls her arm over the side of her head that isn't pressed against the pillow. She can fucking smell Piper's shampoo, the scent clinging to the pillowcase. She'll do laundry tomorrow.
Her bed is so much more comfortable than the couch downstairs, but Alex still barely sleeps.
Alex stays overnight in their room now, more often than not, but sometimes she still disappears after check and doesn't come back. Piper can't pick up on any routine or pattern, now way to predict which days Alex apparently can't stand to sleep near her.
But she's got her own routines to rebuild, messily gluing together new ways to exist at Litchfield.
Piper sits with Polly and her friends at meals, and after a few weeks of that even starts tagging along with them for other things: lunches at the bakery, study sessions, movie nights.
She goes to Overbrook to see Cal more often, at least once a weekend. His nerdy, freshmen friends get used to her, and sometimes she spends whole Saturday afternoons playing elaborate strategy based board games with them. It's a strange sort of solace, feeling the empty weekend hours fall away without effort.
Her favorite class becomes the one she has with Poussey and none of the others. Both of their sports are on their off season, only a couple short practices a week, and they hang out for a few hours on the afternoons when their days off correspond, plus whole evenings when Alex, Nicky and Janae all happen to be traveling for away games and track meets.
When the soccer team plays at home, though, Piper goes to the games. She sits by herself in a corner of the bleachers and watches Alex. It doesn't hurt like it does everywhere else: classrooms, the dining hall, their room.
Here, the distance between them is expected.
One Wednesday night in the middle of March, just over a month since the break up, Piper goes down to Poussey's floor and knocks on her door.
"Oh, hey. 'Sup?" Poussey smiles at her. Dorm check begins in ten minutes, so Piper figured it would be the best bet for catching Poussey on her own. Behind her, she can see her roommate, Suzanne, watching them curiously.
"I wanted to give you these..." She thrusts an envelope at Poussey. "It's those Six Flags tickets. Remember, from the Assassins game?"
Poussey arches an eyebrow. "Why you giving them to me?"
"We were all gonna go..." Piper shrugs helplessly. She had pretty much forgotten about the prize until she found them in her desk drawer over the weekend. "We were one short, remember? Without me you guys won't have to chip in on an extra."
Heaving a heavy, beleaguered sigh, Poussey comes into the hallway, shutting her down behind her and leaning on the wall to give Piper a look. "Real talk. Are you trying to make us feel bad?"
"What? No."
"For real? Because I still hang out with you, and even I feel bad. Like...we're supposed to take your tickets and go to Six Flags without you like that's not the saddest thing ever?"
"I didn't really think about it that way," Piper says honestly. Though, now that Poussey's spelled it out, she doesn't hate the idea. She's worn guilt like a heavy coat this whole semester; it wouldn't be the worst thing for Janae, Nicky and Poussey to put on a fraction of that.
"They're yours," Poussey points out reasonably. "Not some shared possession y'all divvied up during the divorce. Take Polly and all them."
Piper's expression sours. "God, no. That's a full day. I can't hang out with them for that long. It's exhausting."
Poussey gives her a knowing look but doesn't comment on that. "Well, take whoever then. Your brothers, maybe? As long as you're included in the group."
Sensing there's no point in trying to argue, Piper just nods. "Alright. If you're sure."
But there's no way that trip won't be depressing, with whatever group of threadbare friends she manages to throw together. So, that Saturday, Piper walks over to Overbrook and offers them to Cal.
"Are you serious?" He asks, wide eyed, when she hands them over.
"Yeah. I know none of you drive yet, but I think there are park shuttles that run not far from here."
"Do we have to pay you?"
"No, I told you. I won them for nothing."
"Sweet. Thanks."
Piper nods and sits down on her brother's desk chair. The dorm furniture here is identical to Litchfield.
"Hey, Pipe?" Cal says in a tentative voice after a moment.
"Hmmm?"
"How come you don't hang out with Alex anymore?"
She looks away. "How do you know I don't?"
"Well, I mean...you're always at the basketball games with those other girls. Not your old friends. And you're over here kind of a lot this semester. Which. Cool with me. But it's weird." He waves the tickets at her. "And apparently you don't even have three people you can invite to a theme park. For free."
It's dumb, but there's something both stark and silly about that statement that Piper's eyes start to sting.
Cal's eyes widen with the instantaneous alarm of a teenage boy confronted with a crying girl. "Sorry, sorry, my bad," he backpedals. "You don't have to tell me."
For a second, though, Piper wants to.
She's so damn lonely. It's not a lack of people; Piper has always been able to find people.
But when she was with Alex, the biggest and truest thing about Piper was being in love with her. And most of the time, she was allowed to let that spill over so Alex, and Poussey and Nicky and Janae, could all see it.
Now there is a lid closed tightly over her heart, almost always. It diminishes her, feels like huge swaths of her days don't even count because she's just spending them hiding.
Sniffling, Piper wipes her eyes and stands up to go, but she lingers in the doorway. "Something happened with Alex..." Hesitant, she lets her eyes track up to meet her brother's.
She lets the easiest possible version of this moment play out in her head, waiting for Cal to have the same sort of realization as Larry, to figure out the obvious truth without her having to say it. But he's just quiet.
Piper closes her eyes. "Just...don't ask me about it anymore, okay?"
"I won't," Cal agrees quickly, his relief palpable. "You don't have to go though, wanna, like...play X-box or something?
"It's okay, I need to head back. I'll see you later."
Alex always disappears between dorm check and lights out. Sometimes Piper spends that gap lying on her own bed, fantasizing elaborate apologies - tonight's: wallpapering their room with Post-Its scrawled with I'm sorry and I miss you) - big, sweeping gestures that belong in romantic comedies to fix softer, less destructive mistakes.
Tonight, though, it feels like all the lights have gone out in her chest, not a single flickering bulb of optimism to generate an idea.
She has to stop letting the hope of forgiveness be the only thing icing her bruises.
It took a few weeks for the worry to leave Alex's friends eyes, but by the time a month has passed, the novelty to the breakup and Piper's absence has worn off for them.
They don't talk to Alex with cushioned voices anymore, stop treating her like she's wounded. For the most part, it's a relief, but every once in awhile it provokes a twisted sort of shame, like Alex shouldn't still be feeling like she is.
She stops going to class stoned, but she's lost the ability to drink without careening all the way off an edge. She learns by heart the kind of drunk that makes you understand why someone chose the term wasted for it. Her friends must take note, because they suggest alcohol less frequently. Even the Facts of Life DVDs stay in Nicky's drawer, the door firmly closed on the drinking game accompanying them.
The day that would have been their anniversary passes, one year since that kiss to The Wizard of Oz. Alex wishes she didn't notice; she's always thought that word, anniversary, sounds so silly when teenagers use it.
But she does, of course. In general, Alex is shit at not noticing things. Like Piper, still a constant fleck in the corner of her eye.
Piper's absence is something that piles up, the pain of it compounding. Alex doesn't understand the general assumption that it should get easier the longer they're apart. Missing someone is not an injury that begins to gradually healing, never as bad as the moment it's inflicted. Alex misses Piper like blood loss, a lack of something she needs: if bleeding for a week is bad, then two weeks, three, a month, is even worse, causing more and more damage.
They've been broken up for six weeks. Piper hasn't tried to talk to her since Alex got back from seeing her mom, over a month of silence. Surprisingly, Alex is the one to truly shatter it, more scream than whisper.
It's a Tuesday, and their drama class is reading The Importance of Being Earnest. They're in the classroom, not the theater, the desks arranged in a circle. Ms. Rogers gives them all parts for reading Act One out loud, the usual routine.
Alex gets assigned Gwendolen. Habitually, she flips ahead in her book and sees the character doesn't actually enter for ten pages, so she tunes out the start of the reading, disinterested.
It takes a few minutes for her to clue into the fact that Piper - who sits across the circle, now, in the desk next to Polly - is playing one of the male characters and, apparently, Alex's love interest.
She starts reading ahead again, hoping they don't actually share a scene together until Act Two, when other students will take over the parts, but Alex ends up barely catching her own cue.
"I am always smart," she rushes the line out with no major inflection. "Aren't I, Mr. Worthing?"
"You are quite perfect, Miss Fairfax," Piper answers, and Alex can't help but glance over at her. Her elbow is propped on her desk, forehead resting in her palm, practically hunched over the book.
Alex fumbles through her next line, and there are some exchanges with other students. She turns the pages, sees a whole page of dialogue between GWEN and JACK, apparently Piper's character.
And it's not even a romance, really, just some dumb, absurd comedy that's over a hundred years old, but Piper so clearly can't stand this; she's lost her usual Good Drama Student inflection that Alex used to tease her about, each line reading stiff and uncomfortable.
"You really love me, Gwendolen?"
"Yes, passionately," Alex says between her teeth.
Across the circle, Piper's eyes dart to Ms. Rogers, like the teacher might rescue her from this apparent torture. She lowers her head to the book again, struggling to find her place. "Um...Darling. You don't know how happy you've made me."
An electric sort of fury is starting to spark in Alex's chest, because she fucking knows Piper's discomfort isn't coming from talking to Alex for the first time in like five weeks as other characters; it's having to read a scene as a couple in front of Polly and everyone else.
Like an Oscar Wilde play is going to fucking expose her. Like that's even still something to worry about.
Really, that's the worst part. The strongest anger Alex has that's still standing, that hasn't been cut off at the knees, isn't even over the cheating, or the lying...it's that Alex knows she would forgive Piper for all of it in a second, if she could only be certain it would never happen again.
Moments like this - Piper practically cringing over the line "You know that I love you, and you led me to believe, Miss Fairfax, that you were not absolutely indifferent to me." - just keeps reminding her that it could.
"Hey," Alex says harshly, breaking from her next line, startling Piper into actually looking up at her - because suddenly Piper's the one trying not to look, like she doesn't spend every night in their fucking dorm room desperately searching for eye contact...
Their eyes lock, and all that fury rushes through Alex's veins, coming to a hot, angry peak between her eyes as she clenches out, the words scraping at her throat like she's swallowed razor blades, "It's just a fucking play." She punctuates the sentence by slamming her book shut and slouching low in her desk.
A hush sweeps around the circle. Alex glares straight ahead, not focusing on anyone in particular.
After a moment, Ms. Rogers prompts, calm but firm, "Alex. It's still your line."
She doesn't say anything, the muscles in her throat too taut. She's a breath away from sobbing or screaming, and the middle of class isn't the place to find out which will win.
There is an unbearably long pause before Rogers clears her throat and says smoothly, "Deanna? Take over Gwendolen, please."
Haltingly, the scene starts again. Piper sounds strained for only two lines before she remembers she's performing, her voice quickly threading itself back together to sound wholly unaffected.
For the rest of class, Alex lets the words of the play turn to white noise while she holds herself in careful stillness. Her whole body feels like a hair trigger about to be pulled. She doesn't want to let herself go off again.
The bell tower chimes the end of the hour, followed by the rhythmic scrape of chairs as everyone gets up, packing their things to go. Alex slings her bag over her shoulder without bothering to put her book of plays into it, just moves straight to the door.
"Alex," Ms. Rogers keeps her tone light. She's the kind of teacher who makes a point not to embarrass students if it's at all avoidable. "Can you hang back for a second, please?"
Alex stops walking but doesn't turn around until she feels the flow of students dissipate around her. She sets her jaw before facing her teacher, impatient.
Annoyingly, Rogers doesn't look angry. Just concerned. Her voice is soft. "Anything you want to talk about?"
Alex huffs out a scoffing sound, tempted to ask if any students ever takes her up on that offer. She's getting pissed off again, imagining how pleased with herself Ms. Rogers probably is right now, seeing through an outburst and offering help instead of punishment to a poor, troubled student.
"You know..." There's a determined smile in Ms. Rogers' voice. "People want to act like teenager's breaks up aren't so bad. I say it's easier as an adult...you're not usually stuck still seeing someone every day. Boarding school, it's even worse, I'm sure."
Alex's eyes flare, torn between irritation at this massive presumption and a dark amusement - what would Piper say if she knew even teachers could figure out their shit?
"Hey..." Rogers gentles her voice, almost sweetly condescending. "I know it must seem like the end of the world right now, Alex. I understand that. But -"
"You're not a counselor," Alex interrupts loudly, fresh anger seething in her voice. "Punish me if you want, but that's it."
She keeps a hard, defiant glare fixed on Ms. Rogers, hating her because it's easier than hating Piper. And anyway, fuck her for thinking she understands, thinking she knows what it's like to have to exist right alongside the thing that ripped you open - and still being unable to stifle the desire to reach out and touch the blades.
Rogers blinks first. "We'll call it a warning. But it'll hurt your participation grade for the day."
Alex nods, harsh and stoic, before turning to leave.
"Shit. She's intense, isn't she?"
"I guess," Piper mumbles. She feels sick and unsteady, walking through the throng of students changing classes next to Polly, the venom of Alex's words still burning in her ears.
"Look, I know you haven't wanted to talk about it, Pipe, but can I just say...Alex is being really unfair to you."
Too out of it to think about what Polly means, Piper instinctively replies, "She's not."
"Come on, dude. You've basically had to stop hanging out with all your friends. What, just because you don't like her like that? You can't help that."
Piper's face heats up; she's known that's what Polly assumes happened - she's let her assume it - but hearing it out loud feels different. More willfully deceitful. "I never told you that's what happened."
"Well, yeah, but it wasn't hard to guess."
For just a moment, the chance to deny it hovers between them.
Piper swats it away, muttering instead, "It's not her fault, I...I didn't handle things well. At all."
"It's still fucked up of her to freak out at you in the middle of class."
Piper stays quiet after that. Her chest feels hollow, a cave with Alex's name and her own secret echoing between its walls.
"Hey..." Nicky and Janae come into US Government together and sit in their desks on either side of Alex. "Heard things got weird in Rogers class. You okay?"
Alex suppresses a groan. She's really been hoping the rumor mill wouldn't churn this one around. It's been nearly two hours, and her stomach has started to tilt every time she replays that moment.
"It's not a big deal," she mutters curtly, and neither of her friends push because they're used to it.
She doesn't talk about Piper, even with her best friends.
Something in her is too damn protective of their history, wants to keep the time when they were happy preserved. Ranting and raging and picking apart the breakup would be like taking a hammer to glass and stealing what's behind it, turning the ending into the only part that matters.
Though there might be a downside for the lack of talking about it. It's maybe why she ended up snapping at Piper over a stupid play, with a whole audience of their classmates watching.
Alex exhausts herself at soccer practice, and afterwards she sits on the sidelines bench watching the rest of the team scatter, heading up the hill toward the dorms or dining hall. There is weed at the bottom of her bag, and she's toying with a craving. It would be easy, to just slip off to the woods and smoke for awhile, numb herself for the rest of the night.
She absently pulls out her phone, waiting for her teammates to get safely out of sight, and ends up pulling up her message thread with Piper. It's been awhile since they texted, but it's still visible without scrolling, at the very bottom of her screen.
She thumbs through the string of unanswered texts from Piper, back to the long one from the night they broke up, the one she'd lied about deleting. Alex has that text memorized by now, but she still pulls it up to actually read every now and then, like digging out a time capsule of Piper's raw, desperate regret.
It hooks right into Alex's gut, like always.
The apology wasn't enough to save them then, and it isn't enough now, but there is a beautiful sort of bravery to that much honesty.
Alex has been keeping all her honesty to herself, and it's starting to gnaw at her, demanding to get out.
When Alex returns to the room, Piper is sitting on her bed. She looks like she's been crying.
"Hey," Alex starts softly.
It is objectively heartbreaking, how startled Piper looks at the simple greeting. "Hi." The word sounds almost like a question.
Talking to her again, especially here in their room, is disorienting in a way that stalls Alex's momentum, makes her feel bruised on the underside of her skin. She turns, dropping her soccer bag by her desk, undoing her ponytail with nervous hands. "Look, um...about earlier, in class - "
"Do you hate me?" Piper blurts out the question like she's been holding it under her tongue for weeks now, and is afraid this might be her only chance to ask.
Alex closes her eyes, the urge to run shivering through her. She shakes her head.
Then, tears coating her voice, Piper says, "Because it seems like you do." A moment passes, and she adds, "You can't even look at me anymore, Alex."
It feels like Alex's throat splits open and this is what spills out: "That's not because I hate you, Piper! I fucking wish I could, God, it would be easier..." Her voice wavers. "I was so mad at you today. But you know what's fucking pathetic is...it's not because you lied to me for a month or because you fucking cheated on me. I'm pissed off because I want to forgive you and go back to normal, I want to so bad, Pipes - "
"So do I - "
" - but I can't because I can't be sure you're not going to do the same fucking thing again."
Piper slides unsteadily off her bed, coming to stand in front of Alex, her eyes wide and teary. "I won't, Alex, I know I won't - "
"I don't know that." Alex's voice cracks. "I know you, Piper, but I still didn't think you would do something like that the first time. And today...you were so freaked out reading that stupid play -"
"I'm sorry."
"No, that's the thing, Pipes, you shouldn't have to be sorry. Not about that. I didn't have any right to snap at you, not in front of everyone, and I really hope it didn't make anything uncomfortable with Polly or anybody else."
Her face starting to morph into panic, Piper is shaking her head before Alex even finishes talking. "You didn't, Alex, please, I don't care about that."
She's even closer now, her hands reaching, seizing onto the hem of Alex's T-shirt, and Alex arches away instinctively like Piper's fingers are lit matches.
Quiet, pained, Alex pleads, "Just let me say this, Pipes, okay?"
Piper takes a step back and nods.
"It's, um..." Alex swallows, her throat constricting like it's stuffed with everything she hasn't been able to say to Piper for the last six weeks. "It's been really weird, not getting to talk to you.
Faintly, Piper whispers back, "I know."
"Even being pissed at you...you're the only person I wanted to rant to about it."
With obvious effort, Piper's lips hitch into a smile. "You still can, if you want. I probably deserve to hear it."
"No. I think I hit my limit today." Alex sighs, leaning back against the door. "I know this sucks. What you did wasn't fair. But...none of this has been fair. Including the fact that you've basically had to give up your friends on top of...of everything else. Or what I did in Rogers class today. And...it's probably even unfair for me to be in the same room with you and act like you don't exist."
Tears and ache fill Piper's eyes, and it makes Alex feel like shutting up. It makes everything so much harder to say, like she has to carve through her own muscle and tissue to find the feeling again.
"But the thing is...I have to do that, Pipes." Her voice catches, threatens to break. "I can't be friends with you. I don't even know how to be your roommate. I can't be around you without wanting...to be with you, so...at the end of this semester, I'm going to go to Fisher and request a room change."
Piper's face goes slack, and for some reason, that's the moment Alex notices she's still wearing the ruby slippers necklace. Her birthday present.
Warm tears hit her cheeks, and for the first time Alex allows herself to look away from Piper. She rushes to finish, "I, I just think that's for the best. But I do want you to know that it's not because I hate you. It's just...the only thing I can do."
"But it's not, though," Piper protests thickly. "Alex, if you have to work that hard at not wanting to be with me, then maybe you should just...stop." Her voice moves closer. "We are both miserable, Al, so what's the point of this? Just to punish me?"
"Stop it - "
"I know I don't deserve to have you back - "
"Piper - "
" - but is that really enough of a reason for you?"
"This isn't something you get to argue, Piper," Alex snaps, frustrated. "I'm being honest with you because I feel really shitty about the way we've been lately, but you have no right anymore to fucking talk me out of it -"
"I just don't understand how you can be okay with not having this anymore!"
Alex falls silent. Piper's voice is loud and agonized, her eyes wildly desperate and unshakeable. She's close enough to kiss. To shove.
"Fuck you," Alex growls. "You don't get to do that, Piper. I'm nowhere close to okay, and it's your fucking fault - "
"I know it is." Piper's fully crying now. "Believe me, I know, but you're the one making the choice, Alex."
"Are you fucking serious? You think any of this has been my choice? Okay, yeah, Pipes, I can barely look at you without wanting to just...fuck everything that happened and go back to how it was before. Except...that's not actually possible. I could never feel sure about us again. And stuff like what happened today in class...that just proves why. And it's not because you don't have any right to feel uncomfortable or whatever...it's because any moment like that is always going to remind me of what you did. And make me wonder if it's happening again." Alex can feel her face crumpling, her voice coming completely untethered as she chokes out, "We can't put it back together, Pipes. It wouldn't be good enough anymore."
Piper's spine is arched, hunched over like she's weighed down, and she gasps out apologies draped with sobs. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." Alex leans back against their door, covering her face with her hands. She feels Piper's fingers pull at her wrists, searching for eye contact. "I'm so sorry..."
Then Piper's lips are on hers
For a moment, Alex gives into it - this salty, hopeless kiss. Her back is still against the door, Piper leaning into her; she doesn't want to actually touch her, but Alex's hands don't seem to understand that, it's like they have to grab onto something, so she ends up hooking two fingers over the silver chain of Piper's necklace, just above the charm. The touch starts gentle, but after a moment Alex is filled with a plunging urge to yank it off.
She lets go instead, entirely: wrenches her face away. "Piper." Her voice is pained. "Piper, you can't...this isn't fair."
"But you already said," Piper nearly whines, sounding like an exhausted, tear spent little girl. "None of this is gonna be fair."
There is an inescapable truth to that. It isn't fair for Piper to kiss her. It isn't fair if they don't get to kiss each other anymore.
"I'm gonna go," Alex grits out roughly. In some vague, messy way, she's angry again, even though she'd hoped this conversation, all this honesty, would help dispense of the need to stay furious at Piper.
"Wait, but, but, what you said before..." Piper's obviously stumbling, words tripping and bumping into each other that she's afraid to stop talking but hasn't figured out what there is to say. "You said it's been weird not talking, and maybe - "
"Piper," Alex cuts her off in a low voice. "Stop. We can't keep fighting just so this doesn't end."
Piper visibly flinches. She meets Alex's eyes, and Alex feels her anger softening, that fast. A defeated sort of understanding passes silently between them, the acknowledgement of truth: since Alex walked into the room, they've cried and they've yelled but something about it feels right. Not good, just correct, to finally stop shakily navigating around each other and let themselves crash.
After a long silence, Alex clears her throat of too much feeling and says, "I'm...gonna have to talk to Fisher kind of soon. So. I just want you to have a heads up."
"Okay." Piper sounds drained.
"I'm gonna go to dinner," Alex says awkwardly. It doesn't seem right to snap right back into acting like strangers. She'll have to leave the room first, reset herself. "I'll see you."
Piper nods. She isn't looking at her.
Out of reasons to stay, Alex slips out the door, swerving out of Piper's path yet again.
For the past month and a half, every time Alex came into the dorm with headphones and a lowered gaze, or sat three feet away in a class without her eyes once touching Piper, vivid, searing pain left scorched through Piper's chest.
But the hurt that comes next might claw even deeper. In the days after their kiss - because, somehow, it's the kiss and not the fight that defines the day for Piper - Alex stops ignoring her completely. It isn't much, a polite greeting when she enters the dorm and then an acknowledgement when she leaves, but someone the distance in Alex's voice, saying Hey and See ya like she's talking to a stranger, clings to Piper far longer than the silences.
On Saturday, she takes the bus to the mall with Polly and the others, following them around stores while they pour over anything exorbitantly expensive and debate the best choices. Piper's worn out and moody, and it's making her think spiteful, ungenerous thoughts about these girls and their shallow concerns.
It's not really fair. Piper's got plenty of high end, name brand clothes, and she's seen some of her old friends - especially Nicky - spend money like it's nothing.
Besides that, she's spent enough time with Polly's crowd by now to know that other than Jessica - and maybe Madison, her closest sidekick - there's nothing to dislike about them. She probably owes Bailey and Sarah much more credit then she's given them; they'd cheerfully accepted her sudden presence in their long established friend group, not once made it seem like something strange or disruptive.
But it's been a brutally awful week, and the drama class incident had gotten around. Jessica apparently took it as permission to talk freely about Alex in front of Piper - she's long assumed Polly warned everyone against it when Piper first started hanging out with them.
It's actually impressive, that whatever Polly said held even Jessica off for so long - though, to be fair, Jessica and Piper still don't interact directly very often - but its power has finally waned. The first meal Piper sat with them after Tuesday, Jessica had given her an approximation of a sympathetic smile and said, "Well, you lasted much longer than I did, but I could've told you it would end like this. It's like Alex just can't help herself...which would maybe be understandable if she knew how to not make it so creepy."
"She didn't do anything creppy," Piper had gritted out.
Jessica had ignored her. "I know it probably seemed like a good idea to be friends with her, but you probably just gave her the wrong idea. I had to shut it down as soon as I figured out what was going on."
Piper had been furiously composing a blistering speech in her head, and it was all she could do not to spat it in Jessica's face - fuck you you don't get to claim something you never had she would never choose you - but all she did was mutter, "Whatever."
She can't explicitly disavow what Jessica was saying without making everyone reevaluate what happened in Ms. Roger's class. So she just had to sit there and listen to Jessica talk shit and lies about her best friend - weirdly, in those moments, that's how Piper thinks of Alex, not as her ex-girlfriend, but her best friend, like it's the one title kept for life, even after vacating the office.
In the list of Piper's unforgivable behavior, it feels comparable to making out with Larry at the cabin.
Piper hates herself for it, but her hate is generous and pervasive, spreading to Jessica and Madison and sometimes all of them, even Polly. Today has, so far, been safe from all Alex talk, but sitting on one of those dinky little stools in a shoe store, watching the others try on heels, the sight of Jessica Wedge's face makes Piper nauseated with loathing.
Finally, before the dark feeling in her gut boils over, Piper stands up, needing to get away before she starts hurling shoeboxes at heads, and murmurs only to Polly, "I'm gonna go walk around for awhile. We'll catch up later?"
Disappointment flickers across Polly's expression; Piper will never understand why she cares so much. "You sure? We're almost done here, I swear."
"Take your time, it's okay. I just need to look for a few things." It sounds lame, even to Piper, but Polly seems to accept it.
Piper finds a bench near the food court - purposefully away from all the best stores - and settles in, relieved to be alone.
She's usually much better at pretending than this, with Polly and her friends; actually, she's much better at pretending than she wants to be. It's not a quality she likes about herself, the ability to blend in and fake contentment. But for at least the last month, Piper has fit comfortably among them, like she's been there all along.
Maybe, in a strange way, she should have been: if she hadn't been assigned Alex as a roommate, Piper probably would've hovered hopefully around Polly, the one person she knew going into Litchfield. She'd have been gratefully absorbed into their group, maybe wouldn't have liked Jessica much but would have deferred to her, anyway (that's the part Piper really wishes she didn't know about herself...but there was a girl in her middle school crowd that was like a seventh grade, Jessica Wedge prototype).
In that scenario, Alex's first, distant impression of her would have been as a friend of Jessica's, and she would have justifiably written Piper off as someone she would never be interested in knowing.
It's dizzying, spinning these scenarios, imagining banal but painless universes, and it kills a good hour before Polly finds her.
"Hey." She grins down at Piper, tossing a Cinnabon bag in her lap. "Got ya a treat."
"Thanks." Piper takes it, her stomach sinking a little. It's nice of Polly; annoyingly nice, actually, because Piper's going to have to tell her soon that she can't hang out with her friends anymore - if Piper can't bring herself to stand up for Alex, the least she can do is stop passively endorsing Jessica's bullshit by listening to it - but obviously can't say so right now, confronted with undeserved thoughtfulness.
"Sure." Polly sits on the bench beside her. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Where's everyone else?"
"Still shopping. I kinda wanted to ask you something."
Piper throws her a sharp look, anxiety bubbling in her stomach. "What about?"
"It's just..." Polly sighs, melancholy settling over her face, and then Piper relaxes, understanding this isn't going to be about her. "Do you think your brother is going to break up with me again after graduation, or would he be into trying long distance?"
Danny-based conversations with Polly only require letting her think out loud until she talks herself into optimism, so Piper easily nods and occasionally rephrases things Polly says for another fifteen minutes until Jessica and the others approach them, loaded down with shopping bags and smoothies from Orange Julius.
"We think we should go see a movie," Jessica announces managing, as always, to give the impression that she's somehow channeling the group mentality.
Polly stands up, nodding agreeably. "Sure."
Piper stays where she is. "I may just take the next shuttle back...gotta do some homework."
"Aw, c'mon," Sarah tilts her head at her. "It's Saturday."
"Yeah, Pipe, don't go." Polly tugs her up by the elbow.
She relents, of course; it's easier in the moment. Piper stands up, shoving what's left of her cinnamon bun back in the bag. "Fine, what's playing?"
They walk to the AMC at the opposite end of the mall, and Piper gradually tunes them out. That is one good thing about slipping into Polly's crowd: she has the safety of a group, but a group whose rhythms were established long before Piper joined, so they don't tend to notice when she falls silent for too long, getting lost in her own head.
Today, she's stuck on a common refrain from the last week: Alex's voice, We can't put it back together, Pipes. It wouldn't be good enough anymore.
She's picked the phrasing apart so much that she's turned it into a vague image: broken glass, all sharp edges and misshapen pieces, a pile of so many shards and glittering dust that no one could tell what it used to be.
Like her thoughts conjure her, Alex suddenly enters Piper's field of vision, jolting her into awareness for the first time in a few minutes. She's hovering with the others, in line for tickets; Alex is walking out of the theater, along with Janae, Poussey and Nicky.
Piper's used to crossing paths with Alex on campus, of course, and even in their shared dorm room, but somehow the shock of seeing her somewhere she hadn't expected her to be makes this feel worse, like they've run into each other on dates with other people.
Janae and Poussey smile awkwardly at Piper. Nicky ignores her entirely, choosing to squint distastefully in Jessica's direction instead. Alex just looks away.
As soon as they pass, Jessica says, not quietly, "Here's what I don't get about Alex. It's not like she doesn't hang out with other gay girls, right? The whole predatory roommate thing isn't even necessary - "
"Will you shut the hell up?" Piper finally finally finally snaps, rounding on her, eyes blazing. "Alex never had a thing for you. Here's how I know that: she hates you. Not because you rejected her so now she's bitter. More like, she hates people like you. All of them. Everyone, everywhere, who is remotely similar to you: every entitled, homophobic liar in the world. You included."
Stunned silence follows the tirade for a moment; Jessica's eyes are bursting with shocked indignation, her friends gaping in disbelief, but Piper can't help but twist around, checking to see if Alex is within earshot.
She isn't.
It takes a second to spot her, still walking with the others past an phone case kiosk, much too far to have heard.
Piper deflates, sudden, stampeding hope falling flat on its face.
When she turns back around, Jessica has more than recovered. With an expression that brilliantly mingles disgust and pity, she retorts, "I'm a liar?" She sighs, patronizing. "You idiot. You're pathetic, Piper. Rushing to defend the school drug dealer." Jessica over enunciates the last two words, like she's talking to a preschooler. "You must be the only person here stupid enough to blindly trust her word over mine. Jesus Christ. Even after she humiliates you, you're still buying her whole cool girl, trailer trash schtick."
Rage is breathing down the back of Piper's neck like a monster, the fight swelling in her throat and bending her bones and eventually working its way to her hands, sending them shooting out to grab Jessica's smoothie, jerk off its lid, and dump what's left of the purple slush into Jessica's Nordstrom bag full of newly purchased outfits.
Her careful composure snaps, and Jessica actually shrieks. Piper's already walking away, adrenaline storming through her, leading an army of sudden, unfamiliar pride.
Piper feels like breaking into a run and catching up with Alex, with their friends, and telling them what just happened. She is floating in the bubble of a rare, perfect moment of strength, and she wants them in it with her.
Except as her heartbeat slows down, the jolt of disappointment Piper had felt when she realized Alex hadn't heard her strikes her again. From a distance, she watches Alex and the others turn into the arcade.
Realistically, she can't just run up to them after all this time and brag about finally locating a scrap of courage.
Piper stops walking, her insides twisting so tight it wrings out all the good feelings. Her perfect, crowning moment feels immediately worthless and wasted.
She hates herself for feeling that, as though standing up for Alex only counts if she gets credit for it. Deep in her chest, shame is already pressing against the spot where pride had just bloomed, bruising it over: Piper can't be sure she would have said anything at all if Alex hadn't almost been there to hear it, if her own blood hadn't still been humming with Alex's unexpected presence. Actually, it's more likely she wouldn't have; that hadn't been the first, or even the most awful, comment Jessica's made about Alex, and until today Piper has barely argued.
She's so sick of herself. She always finds a way to ruin anything good.
Piper wants that feeling back. She wants to do something brave she doesn't have to question and rip apart.
Taking out her cell phone, Piper's fingers shake as she types out a text, sending it before she can change her mind.
PIPER
[Hey you free later? Want to hang out? I kind of need to talk to you about something.]
With a soft, whooshing sound effect, the text sends.
Piper's stomach lunges, even though she can still take this back: say it's nothing, or make something else up, but she's at least a little cornered by that final sentence.
The three dots appear, and then her brother's reply appears on the screen.
CAL
[Did Mom and Dad tell you about my bio grade?]
Piper rolls her eyes, deliberately forcing a chuckle out of her throat, attempting to trick herself into thinking this is no big deal.
PIPER
[Nope but now I guess you can.]
CAL
[Whoops.]
[So what's wrong?]
PIPER
[Nothing's wrong. It's not a bad thing.]
CAL
[Okay. You wanna just come over?]
PIPER
[Can you come to Litch? We can order a pizza and hang out in my room...Alex won't be around.]
CAL
[Alright]
[When?]
PIPER
[I'm at the mall now, I'll text you when I get back on the shuttle.]
CAL
[Cool]
Text Message, Saturday, 5:12 pm
PIPER
[Hey, I'm sorry. You've been really great putting up with me the last month or so, and I really hope you aren't mad at me. I've just been feeling really shitty lately about never saying anything when Jessica talks about Alex.]
POLLY
[It's okay.]
[I know she can be a jerk.]
[And she definitely crossed the line, especially the whole trailer trash thing.]
[She's REALLY pissed at you though.]
PIPER
[I figured.]
[That's fine. I can't be around her anymore.]
[We're okay though, right?]
POLLY
[Yeah. Of course.]
When Cal shows up, Piper can tell he thinks this entreaty is weird; the realization provokes a rush of affection toward him for being so agreeable, anyway. He's been that way the past month, really, never giving more than a baffled shrug in response to Piper's sudden apparent need for sibling bonding time.
She spends too long on the Dominoes website crafting their pizza order while Cal wanders around Alex's side of the room, studying her posters, continually circling back to her desk where he'll pick up a book or DVD to peruse. When Piper starts putting in her debit card number to pay for dinner, he asks, "Where's Alex?"
"I don't know." Might as well be honest.
"Still don't get what happened with you guys," Cal mutters. "I liked her."
For awhile, Piper doesn't say anything. Cal doesn't seem to expect a response, wasn't fishing: the mythical, complex tanglings of girl's friendships are not something he even hopes to understand.
But Piper's plan is to slowly back herself into a corner, take small steps until there is no escape beyond the obvious. So she says, probably after too long of a silence, "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Me and Alex, I mean."
"Okaaay..." He glances over at her, more confused than curious. "What about it?" There's the slightest note of impatience in his voice, like he's waiting to hear what this has to do with him.
"Listen, Cal. You can't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially Mom and Dad."
"Well, that'll be really difficult for me." He affects a half assed British accent. "You know Mum and Pop and I are so very close."
"Hey, I mean it, though. Not even your friends. Or Danny."
"Okay, yeah, whatever. I'm not gonna tell." There are practically air quotes around the words; Cal obviously finds this request incredibly immature, like his older sister is regressing to a kindergartner pointlessly protecting shallow secrets.
She steps further into her own trap, heart pounding like it wants to leap from her chest. "You know Alex is gay, right?"
This seems to puncture Cal's impatient bravado. He actually blushes, stammering, "Oh, um, yeah. Yeah, I did. Course."
He's not a good liar, but now isn't the time to dwell on that.
"Right. So..." Piper's mouth goes dry, the words scampering back down her throat. Lamely, she amends, "Do you maybe...know where I'm going with this?"
Piper's not sure where this fear comes from, if it's too real to say the words herself, or if she only wants him to put it together because that means it must make some sort of sense to him.
"No." Cal scowls, like no one could possibly read the subtitles of this conversation.
Piper swallows. She has to just say it, blurt it out, it won't change anything immediately beyond this moment, and Cal isn't so scary.
She looks away from him, sets her jaw, unfolding the admission like a covertly passed note, still crumpled and small when it comes out: "So we were together."
"What?" Cal's unfiltered surprise is immediate and genuine. "Holy shit." Piper's whole body feels tense, like she just jumped off a diving board and is waiting for the painful shock of icy water.
But then Cal says, "But Mom and Dad let her sleep in your room."
A shocked sort of laugh leapfrogs out of her. There is only old, familiar indignation in her brother's voice, a sense of unfairness - no fair, I'm not allowed to have girls in MY room!
Typical Cal. Typical teenage boy.
There is such warm, soothing relief in the typical.
"Well, we also shared a room here. Every night," she reminds him.
"Damn. That's a sweet set up." He's moved away Alex's side of the room, hoisting himself up on Piper's bed instead.
Pointedly, she tells him, "You know I didn't not tell Mom and Dad just so Alex could stay in my room when she visited."
"Ah. Right. They're gonna be really weird and annoying about it." He makes a sour face, presumably to convey sympathy. "Are you gonna tell them?"
"Not anytime soon." She's been sitting at her desk chair, but now Piper climbs up on her desk, feet on the chair's seat, so she can better see her brother up on the loft bed. Her voice is small. "We broke up."
"Oh, yeah. Dur." He grimaces, hastily adding, "I don't mean, dur, of course you wouldn't last. Just that that explains why you don't hang out anymore."
"I got it."
"So...why'd you break up?" He asks it in an obligatory manner, and for a second a smile ghosts across Piper's lips. She'd had a vague assumption that this would be such an earth shattering revelation that anyone, especially her own brother, would surely have dozens of questions, need to fill in every blank she's left for the past year.
Clearly, she'd underestimated the self absorption of a fifteen year old boy. Or his disinterest in gossiping.
Piper chooses to see it as a good thing. She doesn't really want to rehash the details. "Long story. It was my fault, though. I screwed up."
"Did she dump you because you wanted to keep it a secret?"
"No. She's not like that."
"Oh."
Silence stretches between them. It's long enough to remind Piper how nervous she is.
"Seriously, though. What are you thinking?"
"I dunno. That it sucks for you? Alex is really hot. And cool." His face tinges pink again when he says it; it occurs to Piper, not for the first time, that Cal might have a slight crush on her roommate.
"Yeah, but I mean...the me liking girls thing? Does it seem weird?" There's a desperate edge to the question; she's almost uneasy at how quickly the conversation has begun to feel normal.
"Sort of. I guess. Like, I would never have figured it out. You don't seem gay." Piper rolls her eyes, suppressing an impulse to lecture. Sounding reluctant, Cal adds, "But you and Alex...I can kinda see it."
Piper smiles thinly, the sentiment bittersweet.
Her brother cocks his head at her. "So are you officially into girls now?"
"I...think I like guys, too. I don't know."
Piper hasn't really felt a need to examine the issue too closely. Her naive, love drunk teenage brain had been counting on a future with Alex, rendering other girls or other boys irrelevant - she's surely ruined her for anyone else.
"Well. You should just tell Mom and Dad. Fuck 'em. If they don't like it, it's their problem," Cal says, suddenly animated with the conviction and confidence that comes from knowing it will never be his problem. "Who cares? They're so fucking backwards."
Half-heartedly, Piper shrugs. "I just don't want to start a whole thing with them until I have an actual reason to. And right now, I don't."
"True." Cal grabs Piper's laptop from the foot of her bed. "Wanna watch a movie or something?"
"Sure." Piper's attune to her brother's squirmy discomfort: this is too much serious talk. That's not how anyone their family interacts with each other, even the two of them with their long held but unspoken alliance. Piper, too, was starting to feel the itching strangeness of such a conversation, and she's glad for the escape. "Pizza should be here soon."
"Sweet."
She takes a conscious moment to congratulate herself. This is not a spine tingling rush of power and pride from the mall earlier, but closer to the exhausting, trembling relief that comes after doing something unpleasant but necessary: resetting a bone, ripping off a band-aid, vomiting.
Piper had vowed to herself that she was doing this only for herself, but she can't stifle the instinctive desire to tell Alex about it. Not because she sees it as a grand gesture - she's not trying to score points - but simply because this is the kind of thing that needs to be shared with someone who will understand the significance.
And Alex is still the first person she wants to tell things to.
The weekend felt significant, like it should usher in some new stage of Piper's life, a stage much preferable to the last one defined largely by heartbreak. But on Monday, her brother is back at Overbrook with the truth tucked in his pocket, safe and unobtrusive, and the only tangible difference is now Piper doesn't have anyone to sit with at meals.
It's April by now, and spring is blooming prettily around the campus, so it's not the worst thing for Piper to start surreptitiously taking her food to go and eating on the lawn of the quad. There are others doing the same thing, though usually in groups, so it's easy for Piper to settle onto the grass with her sandwich and headphones. It's a little lonely, sure, but it's also a more honest and less stressful solitude than when she was hiding herself in plain sight.
After a week of her new routine, Piper's become strangely fond of her solo rituals. Sick of the dorm, she ends up spending a lazy weekend afternoon just outside their dorm building, stretched out on a blanket, reading an unassigned novel and listening to music.
Polly finds her like that around four o'clock. They've been normal with each other in class all week, but haven't hung out otherwise. They'd had two off season tennis practices, but Jessica was there, too, and Piper could see Polly wasn't sure how to act with either of them: she's never seen her doubles partner so focused on a practice in two years.
"Hey." Piper shields her eyes, having to squint up at Polly, still standing over her blanket.
"Oh, sorry." Polly bends down, tucking her legs underneath her to sit on the edge of the blanket. Out of the sun, Piper gets a good look at her face: Polly's eyes are red and swollen, and Piper has to fight against a sigh.
She's been anticipating this for a few weeks now; the end of the semester is just over a month away, which for Danny means graduation. Despite Piper's neutrality and, at times, encouragement in recent discussions with Polly, she has little doubt that her older brother has no intention of going to college shackled to a high school girlfriend.
And given what happened last year, he'd probably rather be single for the summer, too.
Piper's not thrilled about having to comfort Polly through yet another breakup, particularly in light of their awkwardness this past week. But she looks genuinely upset, and she's been a good friend to Piper since her own breakup, even without knowing it happened.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Piper closes her book and sets it down, ready to go into full supportive friend mode.
"Um..." Polly draws in a shaky breath. "Listen, this is really fucked up, I know. We kinda got caught smoking pot earlier today."
"Oh, shit. That sucks, sorry." Piper's legitimately surprised. The whole time she's ben here, she and her friends have been consistent with their routines for various contraband, to the point where she stopped feeling the threat of punishment long ago. So it's genuine curiosity that makes her asks, "Where were you?"
"By the lake, halfway between here and Overbrook. It was a total fluke, teachers are never there." Polly shakes her head, disbelieving, then sighs. "Look, that's not why...they sent us to Red's house. She asked where we got the pot, and Jessica...told her about Alex."
Piper's heart drops. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning she told her all of it. She said we got it from her, but also just...that Alex sells weed to everyone. The alcohol, too."
Piper's face hardens. "That's bullshit. Alex has never sold Jessica anything."
"I know."
"So why didn't one of you tell the truth?!"
She's almost yelling, and Piper lowers her voice to a half whisper like that will force Piper to match it. "We couldn't. We were all smoking the joint, but the teacher who caught us - it was someone from Overbrook, not even here - found more in Jessica's bag. By the time she spilled everything on Alex, we'd already said we didn't know where it came from."
A sick, panicky feeling is starting to thump like a heartbeat in Piper's stomach.
At Litchfield, one violation that's considered minor - being caught smoking pot, or drinking, or sneaking out - within a school year only results in a warning. Not that a warning means you're free of consequences - parents are contacted, work hours given, sometimes even suspension from activities - it just means no expulsion. Two minor violations within a year, or a single major violation - harder drugs, stealing, cheating - expulsion is immediate.
Piper doesn't know how dealing contraband - even minor violation level contraband - is classified.
"Fuck," she grits out, scrambling to her feet without even bothering to gather up her blanket and book, or saying anything more to Polly. She runs for the dorm entrance; Alex is at soccer practice, they have it every Saturday until Regionals start, and the only thing Piper can think to do is to gather up everything from Alex's known hiding places and get it far away.
She's speed walking down the hall while thumbing out a text to Nicky - Where are you need your car EMERGENCY - when Piper pulls up short, realizing the door to their room is already open.
Headmistress Reznikov is standing in the middle of Piper and Alex's dorm room, stony and imposing, so out of place among their posters and twin sized beds.
Susan Fisher is in front of her, going through Alex's desk drawers. There is likely some sort of caveat in the most text heavy pages of their student handbook that allows for this sort of search, but Piper's head fills up with fourth amendment protests anyway. But Red's shrewd gaze lands on her, shrinking her into silence.
"Miss Chapman." The headmistress nods shortly. "Apologies, but we need your room for another hour or so. Feel free to grab anything you need."
"Alex is at soccer," Piper blurts out dumbly, and too loud. "Should I...do you need me to go get her?"
"That won't be necessary. We'll call Coach Mendoza to send her up when we need her."
"Yes, ma'am." Piper can't bring herself to move from the doorway; by now, she's spotted a cluster of bottles and ziploc bags sitting on Alex's desk.
Guilt and fear sting in her mouth, warm and metallic like blood, and Piper's afraid for a second she might be sick.
Logically, she knows this isn't her fault. Jessica didn't get caught on purpose, and she probably would have seized on the chance to blame Alex even if Piper hadn't pissed her off last week.
But she can't know that for sure.
Fisher closes a drawer, moving instead to Alex's closet, and she catches Piper's eye as she does, shooting her a sympathetic grimace. Fleetingly, Piper wonders if Alex has talked to her yet about switching roommates for next year.
She wonders if it will even matter anymore.