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Willow sat on the edge of the fountain, feeling frustrated and powerless. She didn't want to write Percy's stupid paper, or to tutor him in the first place. Why should she have to? And why hadn't Oz asked her to come to his gig in Monterey? She'd have gone. Or … she'd have thought about going. So she wouldn't have wanted to miss school. She liked school. Some people liked school! Was there anything wrong with that?
She reached into her bag for the banana she'd packed that morning, and defiantly started to peel it. "I'm eating this now. It's not lunchtime, and I don't even care," she said to no one at all. She didn't care if anyone heard her talking to herself, either. Let them hear.
Before she could even break the end off the banana, Buffy and Xander were suddenly standing in front of her. She hadn't even seen them coming. "Hey," Buffy said.
Xander asked, "Did you remember to tape Biography last Friday?"
Willow nodded, frowning at her very stubborn banana.
Buffy and Xander smiled at each other. Like one of them couldn't have taped Biography? Or, you know, watched it?
"See?" Buffy said. "I told you. Old Reliable."
That's what they thought of her? Willow wasn't sure if she was angry or hurt, but it was definitely one of the two. Maybe both. "Oh, thanks," she said, making sure her tone dripped with sarcasm. She wouldn't have wanted them to miss it.
"What?" Buffy asked, confused. Willow would have liked to have seen Buffy's reaction if someone had called her "Old Reliable". Of course, that would have been hoots of laughter—Buffy was a lot of things, but reliable wasn't one of them.
"'Old Reliable'? Yeah, great, there's a … sexy nickname." 'Sexy' hadn't really been the word she was looking for, but sexy 'Old Reliable' sure wasn't.
Buffy and Xander looked at each other in confusion. "Well, I—I didn't mean it as a—"
Willow cut her off, not wanting to hear the inevitable babbling excuse. "No. It's fine. I'm 'Old Reliable.'" The banana still wouldn't open, either. Apparently she couldn't even defy the lunch hour successfully.
"She just means, you know, the geyser," Xander said, with his 'look at me, I'm so cute and helpful' smile. "Like a geyser of fun that goes off at regular intervals."
"That's Old Faithful," Willow told him.
"Isn't that the dog that the guy had to shoot—"
Willow was passing through cranky to downright mad pretty fast. "That's Old Yeller," she snapped.
"Xander, I beg you not to help me," Buffy said. "Will, I—I didn't mean it as a bad thing. I think it's good to be reliable."
Willow got up, trying to keep hold of her temper long enough to remember that this was her best friend and she could, in theory, explain to her best friend how she felt. "Well, maybe I don't want to be reliable all the time? Maybe I'm not just some … doormat person. Homework gal."
They both stared at her as though this was some kind of foreign concept, which didn't make Willow feel better in the least.
Xander, with his thoughtful and reasonable face on, said, "I'm thinkin' nerve strike."
Willow was highly tempted to hit him. Or to ask Buffy to hit him. But then Buffy looked at him in what appeared to be agreement, and Willow huffed in disgust and turned around to walk away from both of them. She stopped and turned back and said, "Maybe I'll change my look." Blonde, maybe. Or … black hair. That would show 'em. She could look all evil and scary, like—well, not like Faith. She didn't want to look like Faith. "Or cut class. You don't know!"
They stared at her, no quips, no puns, no snappy comebacks, no nothing.
She waved the banana at them, stubborn sticky-peeled thing that it was. "And I'm eating this banana, lunchtime be damned."
Willow strode off.
Buffy came hurrying after her. "Will, wait! I'm really sorry I—"
"Buff. I'm storming off. It doesn't really work if you come with me."
They looked at one another for a moment, then Buffy said, "Oh," in a small, confused, almost hurt voice, and Willow left her standing there, feeling like a badass. Or just bad, possibly. Either way, for once, Willow wasn't sure she cared.