A/N: I may or may not be procrastinating on finishing one fic by writing a monstrous 6k oneshot in a completely different fandom that I've never even ventured into before. That's okay.
Warnings for: a whole lot of homophobia, several uses of homophobic slurs, canon-typical references to underage sex and teen pregnancy, one very brief reference to domestic violence.
The first day of senior year, Rizzo tosses her new Pink Ladies jacket over her shoulders and it feels bulletproof. Nothing can touch her.
"This is Sandy Olsson."
Oh, terrific, Frenchy has a new pet. She likes to find lost little new students and show them around, and she always acts so proud of it, like she's Mother Theresa.
Frenchy introduces the lost little new student to everyone, and Rizzo sizes her up. This girl Sandy looks like a cheerleader, with blonde hair and a sweater draped over her shoulders, like the kind of girl Patty Simcox would have snapped up into her clique in a heartbeat. But she's here, sitting with the Pink Ladies, sitting with Rizzo and smiling nervously at them all, and Rizzo…
Rizzo feels like this girl is bad news. She has a buzz in her brain like she's drunk, and that's never a good sign.
"She just moved here from Sydney, Australia," Frenchy adds, when none of them say anything.
"How are things down under?" Rizzo asks, just a little jab to see how the girl takes it. If she can't handle a few insults she has no business anywhere near the Pink Ladies. And she probably won't be able to handle it, she'll get her panties in a bunch and go sit with the cheerleaders and then Rizzo can live her senior year without any complications.
And Sandy doesn't rise to the bait, doesn't bite back, doesn't even let on that she knows it's teasing. Just says "oh, fine, thanks," and looks Rizzo dead in the eyes, perfectly calm.
Rizzo looks away first, feeling off-balance and unnerved from just that.
Frenchy changes the subject, and Patty Simcox comes along right on time, and they're back to what Rizzo knows best. She throws cheap jabs at Patty, but she barely even needs to work at it anymore; her Pink Ladies do half the work.
Patty slides in next to Sandy, and they look like they fit together. Pastel blue and yellow and modest mid-calf hemlines and light, straight hair and perfect student council material.
"Do you think we could let her in the Pink Ladies?" Frenchie asks. Rizzo looks at Sandy, talking cheerfully with Patty Simcox about her class schedule, and maybe she's going crazy but Rizzo wants that goddamn preppy Australian cheerleader.
"She looks too pure to be pink," Rizzo says, which is true, but it's easier than the real truth. The real truth is that Rizzo might be the queen of Rydell High, but she keeps on wanting things she can't have.
…
Rizzo started high school with one friend, and even that was just luck. Jan lived down the street from her, and their parents were sort of friends, and Jan had just decided that she and Rizzo were friends a few years back. Rizzo didn't really mind when Jan was loud and immature, and Jan didn't mind when Rizzo was sharp and mean, but everyone else did.
Rizzo was too sharp, and too mean, and good girls like Patty Simcox got their feelings hurt, and started spreading rumors. The cheerleaders didn't like her, so they called her a dyke. They whispered about her short hair and her boy clothes and the pictures of Doris Day in her locker. And Rizzo didn't want to be a cheerleader, but she didn't want to be some dyke, some pathetic girl people could pity or scorn from a healthy distance. She wanted people to notice her, to know her, to be a little bit scared of what she could do to them.
She wore lipstick too red for dress code and scraped up the cash for form-fitting skirts instead of hand-me-downs and let a boy or two touch her up behind the gym and that was all it took.
Marty and Frenchie and all the girls who didn't quite fit with the pep rally spirit started gravitating to her, and she had friends as long as she didn't tell them anything that didn't fit her image. Boys who thought they had a shot with her would flirt and buy her milkshakes and take her dancing as long as she put out at the end of the night. The cheerleaders still talked behind her back, but when she walked down a hallway they got out of her way.
Girls like Patty Simcox still whispered, but the rumors started changing. Rizzo had a boyfriend in the Scorpions, Rizzo had an abortion, Rizzo had a hitman just in case you crossed her the wrong way. They were scared of her and in awe of her and they loved her.
…
Perfect little Sandy Olsson met a boy at the beach.
"He was sort of special," she says, and from the look on her face she's in love, or thinks she is.
"There ain't no such thing." Boys aren't special. They want one thing, and if you won't give it to them they won't give you the time of day.
"He was really romantic," she sighs to Patty, which really just means this boy had to put in a little effort to get her to put out. Rizzo knows boys don't respect a girl no matter how much money and time they have to spend on her, so she saves them both the trouble.
Sandy keeps on talking about the boy, keeps on telling them just how special he was, and something in Rizzo feels like it's going to snap but she listens, watches Sandy's blissful smiles, acts like she doesn't care. Because she shouldn't care. Sandy's another good girl who's fallen for a good boy and they'll have a perfect life, and Rizzo's just a bit part in another picture-perfect romance.
"He sounds like a drag," Rizzo says, and nobody's listening to her. They're all gathered around Sandy, Sandy and her perfect little life. She's just walked in and somehow Rizzo's crown is slipping.
…
It's for her own good, really. Sandy has all kinds of sweet romantic ideas about Danny Zuko, of all people, and the sooner she realizes that he's not her Prince Charming the better.
Rizzo feels a vicious kind of satisfaction as she watches Zuko tear Sandy's heart into pieces. No more perfect little summer romance for her. And Zuko goes with it, barely even needs a nudge to act like the bastard they both know he is. Rizzo grins at him after Sandy storms off, and Zuko doesn't return it.
Sandys crying over by Frenchy's car, and Rizzo could go over to her. She could pat her on the shoulder and tell her that you can never really trust a man, and Sandy might sigh and agree and put her head on Rizzo's shoulder, and Rizzo could make her forget all about Danny Zuko.
Rizzo walks away.
…
The trouble is that Sandy's always around. What Rizzo needs is a night with the Pink Ladies to get it out of her system, to laugh at Jan's antics and pretend she's not sneaking glances at Marty's chest and just forget about her, but Sandy's here too, in an ankle-length nightgown with her legs tucked, hacking up a lung up when she tries a cigarette, and it's like Rizzo's eyes are stuck on her. Like her brain is a broken record player, needle thumping endlessly over Sandy.
Sandy has a hold on her, and Rizzo doesn't like it. She doesn't need people, doesn't rely on people, doesn't even want people, because if she doesn't then she can't get hurt.
"Miss goody-two-shoes makes me want to barf."
Rizzo gets mean because that's what she does best. She makes fun of prissy perfect Sandy because otherwise someone might notice. Marty or Frenchy or even Jan might see her looking for too long or saying the wrong thing and then they'll know, and Rizzo will be back to where she started.
Rizzo made a promise to herself when she was fourteen, staring at her locker with DYKE scrawled across it, that she would never let someone hurt her like that again. And she will keep that promise if it kills her.
"Are you making fun of me, Rizz?"
Rizzo needs to get out. She needs to run away and drink and find some boy to distract her just enough to get Sandy's stunned, hurt eyes out of her mind.
…
Kenickie doesn't know her first name, and it bothers her more than it should. Nobody calls her Betty except her mother, even the Pink Ladies probably don't know her name. It bothers her anyway.
…
"You ever think what if you were a boy?"
"What?" Rizzo stubs out her cigarette on the side of her car. It's a perfect day, blue sky without a cloud or a T-Bird in sight. Sandy's away at cheerleading practice, Jan's asking stupid questions, and it feels like it did a year ago.
"You know, if you came out a boy instead, how'd your life be?" Jan asks, persisting.
"I'd be a T-Bird," Rizzo answers. Maybe too quickly. She's thought about it plenty – hasn't everyone? – but admitting that feels dangerous.
"Really? Birds of a feather with Zuko, huh?" Marty raises both eyebrows at her.
"Maybe a Scorpion. That's not the important part. I'd be a real greaser, that's all I'm saying."
"Yeah, right, you'd never spend that long on your hair," Jan says, and Rizzo glares at her.
"I'd have a hot car, leather jacket, the works. Some pretty girl in the passenger seat."
She's said too much.
Marty looks at her, and Rizzo feels like Marty's eyes are going straight through her, through all the thoughts and memories and fears she keeps locked up tight. She feels suddenly, horribly, afraid, in a way she hasn't felt for a long time.
"Well, I wouldn't like it at all," Frenchy says, God bless her tiny, dippy mind for changing the subject. "I don't think they let men into beauty school."
"Sure they do. What about Yves Saint Laurent?"
"He's a fashionista, not a hairdresser, Jan, I think they have different schools for that."
"Hm," Marty says, gives Rizzo one last look, and starts a new conversation that just sounds like static in Rizzo's ears.
She knows. Fuck, she knows.
…
When Rizzo walks out of the ladies' room, Sandy's arrived at the diner, at a two-top with some jock. Rizzo can't see his face, but she can see his blond farmboy haircut and his wide shoulders under the flannel, and she knows immediately that he's a football player who can barely string two words together. She's trying to get over Zuko with someone as different from him as she can get, in other words. Pathetic, honestly.
Rizzo looks at Sandy, and for a moment Sandy looks over the jock's shoulder and they make eye contact. Rizzo keeps on looking, carefully dismissive, and Sandy looks back down, quickly. The faint blush on her face is either makeup or Rizzo's own fool imagination.
Zuko's clearly missing his girl a little more than he's letting on, and Rizzo snipes at him for a minute and heads back to the dance floor, messing up Kenickie's hair as she leaves. She could have picked worse. Could have picked better, but could have picked worse, and that's the best that girls like her get.
…
"People used to say you were a dyke, didn't they?"
Rizzo stops fixing her hair in the rearview mirror, then forces herself to keep going. Not look back at Kenickie. Play it off.
"People say a lot of things, doesn't mean they know what the hell they're talking about," she says, fluffing up her bangs where they're pasted down with sweat.
"I know that," Kenickie huffs. "I just, ya know, why'd they say that when you're –"
"Choose your next word very carefully, Kenickie."
"Aw, come on, slip of the tongue."
Rizzo starts reapplying her lipstick, still not looking at him. The hell is his point here? Why is he bringing up old gossip from three years ago?
"Well, I've made it plenty clear that I'm not some dyke." The word burns in her mouth and she spits it out anyway, putting all her disgust at herself into the one simple word.
"I don't know, I think I need a little more convincing."
Kenickie grabs her ass and Rizzo opens the door of his rust bucket car and walks away, ignoring his shouts of "hey, I didn't mean it, come back!"
…
Kenickie's missing her so he's making a big show of how sorry he is, taking her out to the diner and dancing with her and letting her wear his leather jacket, bestowing it on her like she should be falling over herself just for a chance to wear it. Rizzo wears the jacket, rolling her eyes at him, because she really does like the big square shoulders and the smell of motor oil and tobacco baked into it. It makes her feel tough.
Kenickie is awful at apologies, is the trouble. Ten minutes in, he sees Zuko across the diner and beelines straight for him, hauls some tables together like Rizzo has nothing better to do than talk to Zuko and his girl. Sandy has her hair done and partly pinned up, and she's wearing a sleeveless summer dress that looks far too good on her, and Zuko's looking at her like she hung the moon.
And that bastard Kenickie won't even treat her to a goddamn Eskimo Pie.
…
Sandy invites Zuko, greaser bad-boy Danny Zuko, to tea with her parents.
Rizzo knows how well she can shame people with just a look. It works better with the girls behind her, and the full force of the T-Birds added in makes Zuko fold in seconds. It still feels good to get what she wants, or to at least stop Zuko from getting what he wants.
Folks start leaving. Sandy says something about how she's nervous for the dance and Rizzo says something cruel back, just to make Sandy look at her. Anything to make her notice that Rizzo exists.
Kenickie fakes a laugh, and Rizzo turns to glare at him, because she can fight with him and it doesn't mean anything. Boys aren't special.
Rizzo feels better than she expected when she throws her milkshake in Kenickie's face. She still apologizes to Frenchie, because she didn't deserve to get caught up in all that. Rizzo's troubles are nobody else's problem. Kenickie follows her out, yelling, and she feels good when she ignores him, feels good when he calls the next day and she slams the phone back on the hook, feels good when she cozies up to Balmudo at the dance. Rizzo doesn't need him and she doesn't need Sandy and she doesn't need anyone.
…
She got knocked up, and she needs to deal with it. Just her, nobody else. Rizzo doesn't need other people to solve her problems for her. She needs to deal with it by herself and pretend nothing's really wrong and never let the secret get out.
She tells Marty, because Marty gives better advice than the other Pink Ladies, and because Marty can extort any secret out of her and maybe if she admits to this one Marty'll just forget about the other one, and maybe a little bit because Marty's her friend and she wants to confide in someone.
But it's barely been a minute since she said it, avoiding Marty's eyes and staring into the mirror, and now Kenickie's somehow gotten involved.
"Why didn't you tell me about it?"
"What's it to ya?" Rizzo says, keeping her voice light and calm.
"I thought I might be able to do something," he says, looking away like he can't look her in the eye. Now he cares. Now he fucking cares.
"You did enough," Rizzo says, looking up at him, and Kenickie fidgets some more.
"I don't run away from my mistakes."
And that's – something. Most boys would be glad to stay out of it, let the girl sort out her little problem for herself. Not get their reputations tangled up. Kenickie – isn't leaving. Kenickie cares, in his own screwed-up way that he can't even say out loud. Maybe even loves her.
Girls like Rizzo don't get that. Girls like Rizzo don't deserve that.
So Rizzo tells him, because if he left everything would be easier. Kenickie's smile goes rigid and he walks away, sure, but he's not really angry. When Kenickie's real angry it boils over, it shows in shouting and storming around and slamming doors.
Rizzo thinks. Thinks real goddamn hard. Thinks about why the hell Kenickie asked her if she was a dyke, and the way he looks at Zuko sometimes, and finally connects the dots.
She's not the only one with secrets.
…
Patty Simcox is running for carnival queen.
It's some little popularity contest for the girls who are just flirty enough that the boys like them but never go far enough to get a reputation. The winner gets a plastic crown and a round of applause and a precious high-school memory. All Rizzo's going to leave this school with is a few almost-friends and a baby she never wanted.
Rizzo doesn't care about the whispers and giggles and scorn from the good girls and the football boys. She brushes off the greasers who hoot and holler and ask whose it is. But it hurts when her Pink Ladies join in, asking when she's going to show or if she's going to keep it, laughing when someone makes a joke.
Rizzo knows she shouldn't expect anything else. She's told rumors about Marty and her military boyfriends, laughed when Zuko and his buddies called Jan a whale, told Frenchie over and over that she'd never make it in beauty school. The Pink Ladies aren't all touchy-feely. They fight and snipe and give as good as they get.
Somehow Sandy just – doesn't. She doesn't join in with Rizzo's friends, she doesn't whisper with the cheerleaders, she doesn't even turn her nose up and act like Rizzo isn't there. Sandy talks to her, and it doesn't feel like a trap or an obligation, just like she really wanted to know if Rizzo would be at Thunder Road.
Sandy seems disappointed when Rizzo says no, but she sighs, and leans back against the wall, getting that dreamy look she always gets when she's thinking about Zuko.
"I've got to go, I have to talk to Danny."
And there it is.
Rizzo thought it would get easier, watching Sandy look into the distance and pine after a boy. She thought she'd get used to it. She's not used to it. It's worse, like Sandy's ripping out a little more of her heart each time.
"Unless you've got wheels and a motor, he won't know you're alive," Rizzo says, and gives up on trying to be casual. She looks at Sandy the way she wants to, like she never wants to take her eyes off her, hoping Sandy won't notice and begging her to notice at the same time.
Look at me. I'm here, I'm right here, I may be cruel but at least I'm here with you. Touch me, talk to me, just look at me.
Sandy looks down and bites her lip, then looks Rizzo right in the eyes.
"Listen, Rizzo, I know that we haven't been the best of friends, but if there's anything I can do –"
"I can take care of myself," Rizzo cuts her off. It's easy to fall back on that, easier than admitting just how goddamn happy those few words made her.
Sandy cares. She didn't listen to the rumors. She came here and talked to Rizzo and she cares about Rizzo enough to help her. She cares, when it would be so much easier for her not to. To stick to her own bubble of good girls and to hate and ignore and whisper about girls like Rizzo. And she didn't.
Sandy still looks worried, really worried, like she's never heard of Rizzo's reputation and is scared her poor little feelings might be hurt by a few rumors. Like Rizzo deserves to be protected.
"You think I don't know what people are saying about me?" Rizzo says. It comes out sharper than she wanted it to, and Sandy turns to leave.
"Hey," Rizzo barks, and Sandy turns. She looks worried, still, but she doesn't look scared or pitying or scornful.
She cares. She cares. Sandy Olsson the cheerleader cares about how Rizzo feels.
Rizzo doesn't know what to say to her.
"Thanks," she manages, aware that she's grinning like a fool, and Sandy smiles back and disappears.
Patty Simcox and her clique brush by, and Rizzo hears what they're saying. She can tell it's on purpose, from how loudly Patty's whispering and all the giggling. They're all good girls, who never had to work for anything, who got friends and cars and perfect lives handed to them. They've never had to make the choices Rizzo does.
There are worse things she could do, after all.
She could be a good girl like them and wait for some fairy-tale boy to sweep her off her feet. Wait for her perfect life to show up. Wait for the perfect husband and a white picket fence and a happy life, and never get anywhere.
She could stay just some dyke, some girl with no friends who the good girls all hate and pity. Rizzo's fine with hatred, but she hates pity. She can handle anything if it's honest, but pity's always an emotion other people tell you to feel. At least when she's like this nobody's pitying her.
…
Sandy's being born anew, according to Frenchie, or all the hairspray got to Frenchie's head, is Rizzo's response over the phone. She shows up at Frenchie's anyway, with a paper bag holding the tightest pants and the highest heels she owns, as requested. What the hell any of that has to do with Sandy is anyone's guess, but she got a glimpse of what they could be, Sandy and Betty together, and she's starving for it.
"Oh, good, Rizz, you're here," Frenchie says when she opens the door. "I think Sandy's getting cold feet about the whole thing."
"Well, if you're doing her hair of course she's having second thoughts," Rizzo mutters, and makes her way through the haze of perfume up to Frenchie's room.
Sandy's in a chair, dressed in a bathrobe, her hair pinned up in ridiculous curls and her eyes closed. Frenchie pauses to examine the hair and spritzes it with god-knows-what, then says "Rizzo's here!" like it's the Second Coming of Christ.
"Oh, hello!" Sandy opens her eyes and makes a move to stand up that Frenchie stops with a little wail.
"Be careful, your curls aren't set!"
"Are the clothes for her?" Rizzo asks flatly.
"Well, yes, I have a nice top for her to borrow but nothing else of mine quite captures what she's looking for." Frenchie gestures to her bed, where there's a black top Rizzo's seen once or twice and always had to look away from for fear of staring. Sandy dressed in that – Rizzo very carefully ignores the thought.
"And what's she looking for?"
"I," Sandy says very pointedly, nastier in tone than Rizzo's ever heard from her before, "am sick and tired of being nothing but a good girl. I'd like to live and have a little fun, rather than just doing what my parents say all my life."
"So you're running off to become a lady of the night?"
"Rizzo!" Frenchie snaps. "Sandy is exploring the possibilities open to her, that's all. And if Danny Zuko takes a little more notice of her when she's dressed up a bit, what a happy coincidence." She beams and nudges Sandy, who doesn't look all that happy.
Terrific. Rizzo drops the paper bag next to Frenchie's bed. She doesn't want to be here while Sandy gets dressed up for Zuko, so he can have his greaser-girl happy ending and Rizzo gets to watch Sandy, all dressed up in her borrowed clothes, be happy with someone else.
…
Rizzo never thought the best thing about high school would be when it ended.
It's over and done with, and she's not pregnant, and she never needs to see Zuko or Sandy again, and she can get a good job and move way out east and call her Pink Ladies on the phone for hours and never go back to Rydell. She can go out to Massachusetts or somewhere else full of dykes, go to every bar until she finds one willing to kiss her, and nobody will ever even know.
Sandy's not around. She's not at the end of year carnival, and Frenchie's evasive about where she is, so she's probably off with Zuko somewhere, and at least Rizzo can't see them. So she's all right.
They're on the Ferris wheel, and Frenchie's talking about how she really thinks it might be worth giving beauty school another try, and someone's screaming her name.
Kenickie's on the ground, shouting like it's the end of the world. Rizzo groans, mostly for Frenchie's benefit, but she's busy looking all worried.
"Rizzo, get off of that thing, you got a condition!"
Ugh, this poor sweet fool. Still determined to take care of a girl who he doesn't even want and a baby who isn't even his and doesn't actually exist. Rizzo feels sorta fond, honestly.
"It was a false alarm," Rizzo shouts at him, because what the hell, she might as well shout her good news to the heavens. It's not like anyone hasn't heard the rumors.
"What?"
"I'm not pregnant!" Rizzo screams, and Kenickie cheers and Frenchie cheers and Rizzo's so carried away she grabs Frenchie in a hug. Why the hell not? She can celebrate that her life isn't over.
They reach the bottom of the Ferris Wheel, and Kenickie's right there, trying to lean casually on a railing.
"I'll make an honest woman of ya," he says, not looking her in the eyes.
Well.
Hell, that's something.
"Listen, mister, you and I need to have a goddamn conversation," Rizzo says. She grabs Kenickie by one arm and drags him to the Ferris Wheel car, ignoring the ticket clerk's indignation. "Sorry, French, I'll buy you a funnel cake later."
Frenchie doesn't object to being ditched on the ground, and in fact seems thrilled, giving Rizzo an enthusiastic grin and mouthing something that she doesn't catch. Then they're in the air, and Rizzo looks at the ground, which seems a whole lot farther away than it did last time.
"Listen, Rizzo –" Kenickie shifts uncomfortably next to her, the whole car rocking. Rizzo doesn't look at him. "I do mean it."
"Oh, really? You mean it, or you just don't want your daddy finding out you're queer?"
Shit. Bad lead-in. There's better ways to hint at this sort of thing. There's some sort of code, Rizzo's pretty sure, she's heard rumors. None of the rumors were any help, though, and Rizzo's not a liar. She's not going to dance around the truth, not when Kenickie thinks he can get away with marrying her just so people don't find out.
Kenickie hasn't said anything. His face is getting grey.
Rizzo steels herself to apologize, and manages "forget I said all that," right at the same time Kenickie says "who told you that?" and they're both quiet for a second.
"You think someone needed to tell me? You're not subtle, Kenick."
He winces, full-on flinches back like Rizzo hit him.
"Listen, I – I'm sorry, Rizzo, I didn't want to hurt you," Kenickie says, so quietly Rizzo can barely hear him over the sound of the carnival, and Rizzo sighs.
"Me too," she says.
"What?"
"Me too, you idiot, I'm queer too."
Rizzo's never said it out loud. It feels – not good, never good, but a little less awful. Her big, scary secret's out, in the sunshine, and it's not quite as bad looking at it in the light.
"Tell me something I don't know," Kenickie lies, and Rizzo breaks down in shaky laughter.
She doesn't normally laugh much, not full-on belly-laughter like this, and she probably looks a fool like this, but now that she's started laughing she can't stop. Kenickie starts laughing too, and she leans into his jacket as they soar high above the world.
"Offer's still on the table," Kenickie says eventually.
It's hardly romantic, but girls like her don't get fairy-tale romance. If they're lucky, they get boys who sort of care and know how to keep a secret. This is as close to a happy ending as she's gonna get.
"Well, it ain't moonlight and roses, but –"
"That a yes?"
"Buy me a ring and I'll consider it," Rizzo says, and Kenickie laughs.
"I'll buy you all the rings you want once I win more races," he tells her, and Rizzo rolls her eyes at him.
The ground's coming back up too fast. The Pink Ladies are down there, and Zuko and all of Rydell, just waiting for Rizzo.
Jan and Marty are actually there waiting for Rizzo as it turns out, waving frantically and shouting upward even when they're still too far away to hear her.
"It's Sandy," Jan yells when they're close enough. "She's real upset about something."
"Frenchie's with her, but she said you might be able to help!" Marty calls.
Oh, hell.
Why does Frenchie think Rizzo, of all people, can somehow help with Sandy's troubles? Rizzo's never been any good at consoling people.
She follows them anyway, blows Kenickie a mocking kiss and stifles a giggle when he returns the gesture. No matter what happens with Sandy, things are all right. She has her Pink Ladies, and she has a future, or something like it, with someone who knows all the worst parts of Rizzo and doesn't even care.
…
Frenchie's in a grassy corner behind the funhouse, with Sandy next to her, leaning against the plywood wall and sniffling. Sandy's taller than usual in Rizzo's shoes, dressed in skin-tight black, and she looks like the most beautiful thing Rizzo's ever seen. She also looks like it's the worst day of her life.
"Oh, no, sweetheart," Frenchie soothes, then beckons them over frantically. "It's all right, just take a few deep breaths."
Sandy sobs, blows her nose into a handkerchief, and doesn't respond. Frenchie sighs and mouths "help me" at the rest of them.
"Sandy, it's a beautiful day! Don't wreck it by crying!" Jan tries, which earns another sob and a watery glare over ruined eyeliner. Sandy's wearing big hoop earrings, that must pull like hell on her newly-pierced ears, and her hair is gravity-defying, matted down in places from her crying fit.
"What's wrong?" Marty asks, and Sandy sighs.
"I just – I don't know," she says, and breaks down again.
This is ridiculous.
"I'll deal with her," Rizzo says, and gets incredulous looks from all of them. "Go on, shoo. Enjoy the carnival."
The girls file out, Frenchie last and looking at Rizzo like she wouldn't trust her to walk a straight line. Which is fair. Rizzo's never been any good at feelings. But she's never going to see Sandy again, and so there's no harm in trying.
"Come on, stop blubbering," Rizzo says, and when Sandy doesn't, offers her a handkerchief. Sandy takes it, spends a moment wiping her eyes, and glares down at Rizzo.
"What do you want, Rizz?" She sounds tired.
Rizzo wants a lot of things. She wants to press her face into Sandy's collarbones, still Australian tanned even after months away; she wants to wipe away all the smudged makeup and comb out Sandy's curls; she wants to take her clothes off of Sandy with her teeth.
"What do you want?" Rizzo asks, and Sandy frowns at her.
"I – I want to be like this," Sandy says, but it doesn't sound convincing. "I want Danny Zuko, and I want to look like this. That's what I want."
"You sure it's not that you want Zuko and he wants you to dress like this?" Rizzo says. "Because, honey, he's not worth it."
"You don't know that," Sandy snaps. "You don't know Danny the way I do."
"I know him plenty well, and he's only sticking with you because he thinks you'll put out if he's sweet enough."
Sandy slaps her.
It's not a hard hit, Rizzo used to get knocked around worse than that every time her daddy drank, but it startles her enough to throw her off-balance.
"I bet Zuko didn't want you to do that," Rizzo says.
Sandy doesn't say anything. She looks horrified, so Rizzo keeps pressing.
"That's what you want, huh? You wanna get mad and get me back for everything I said?"
Sandy shakes her head. She looks like she's going to break down crying again. Rizzo waits.
"I – I want to matter to somebody," Sandy manages. It takes everything in Rizzo not to say something incredibly awful and sappy.
"Is that it? You already matter to your parents, and your cheerleaders, and the Pink Ladies. You had to have Zuko care too?"
Sandy looks right at her, eyes wide.
"You said I matter to the Pink Ladies."
Well, now Rizzo's regretting it.
"Do I matter to you?" Sandy asks, and for some reason it hurts like hell that she doesn't know, that she thinks Rizzo might not care about her.
Well, nothing for it but to tell the truth. Rizzo's plenty of things, but she's not a liar.
"Yeah." She almost spits out an insult after, just to get back to familiar territory. "I care about you. Probably more than I should."
"Oh," Sandy says. Rizzo looks at the ground between their feet and shoves her hands into her pockets. They haven't moved, but all of a sudden it feels like they're too close together.
"I – me too," Sandy says in a rush. "I care about you."
"Of course you do," Rizzo says flatly, and turns to leave. If she listens to Sandy say that sort of thing, she'll forget everything else, Zuko and Kenickie and her reputation, and she'll make decisions she'll regret.
"I hadn't finished," Sandy snaps, and her hand lands on Rizzo's shoulder, and Rizzo whips around to snap at her because people don't just touch Rizzo, and –
Oh.
Sandy Olsson, cheerleader Sandy, saving-herself-for-marriage Sandy, is kissing her. She tastes like lipstick and cotton candy, too sweet to be true. When Sandy tries to move away, Rizzo grabs her face in both hands and pulls her back in.
They come up for air after the best thirty seconds of Rizzo's life. Sandy smiles nervously and fusses with her hair and Rizzo just stares at her.
Any minute now, Rizzo's going to wake up, or Sandy's going to tell her that it was just a prank, and things will go back to normal, to the way they should be. Things like this don't happen. Girls like her don't get lucky breaks like this.
"I think I know what I want now," Sandy says, looking Rizzo right in the eyes, and for once Rizzo doesn't look away. Rizzo knows what she means, but she has to ask, just to hear her say it.
"What do you want, Sandy?"
"You," Sandy breathes, and pulls her back in.
It'll be hell later. There's Zuko to deal with, and Sandy's parents, and all of Rydell on the other side of that flimsy wooden wall. But Rizzo's tough, and for once she doesn't have to do this alone. Kenickie's on her side. Marty's known this whole time and hasn't treated her any different, Frenchie's too damn nice to say anything too bad, and Jan just won't care after all these years. Hell, if she asks nicely, Kenickie might even lend her his keys.
Hot car, leather jacket, and a pretty girl in the passenger seat. That's all Rizzo needs.