RE: Trailer Trash

60, The cost of being cool.

“The do you mean she wasn’t at the party?!” Brittany raged, using her fingertips to shove Ashlee back again. “Uh, hello? I pointed out to you at the party. She said so herself, now everyone thinks I’m an idiot.”

Brittany wasn’t usually prone to lashing out in physical acts of violence like Erica always had—the sharp little shoves stung, and Ashlee covered the tender aches they left behind just above her boobs, but they didn’t Not like fists did, not like it used to when Erica kicked her. Ashlee recoiled back against the wall and shielded her face all the same, because if she’d learned one thing over the course of her childhood, was that you never wanted to let your abuser believe they weren’t hitting you hard enough.

“I don’t know!” Ashlee wailed. “I—I don’t remember seeing her there.

She really didn’t remember seeing the smiling girl from that yearbook photo. No one believed her, though. This morning Clarissa had mentioned that but Ashlee only trusted her own recollection. There had been two older guys and two older girls—probably sophomores or juniors. Tabitha and her boyfriend, and then Tabitha’s two cronies, they all seemed like they were probably freshmen. Then five elementary kids, which were cousins or younger siblings of someone or other.

“Okay, well, so all I can do is repeat to everyone that yeah, Brittany scowled, shoving Ashlee again. “Yeah, great. What am I supposed to even tell everyone, now? As if everyone doesn’t already think you’re a stupid fucking

“She wasn’t Ashlee sobbed out.

The sob was mostly fake, although letting herself choke up with emotion enough to really cry was never too difficult. It was an excuse to escalate things in volume enough to annoy Aunt Kimberly, which sometimes brought these confrontations to a conclusion. This kind of ploy would never have worked if Erica was still here—Erica would have gut-punched the wind out of her, or pinned her to the floor, sat on top of her and covered her mouth. That suffocating helplessness still occasionally gave her pangs of terror, and Ashlee always forced those memories back down before the nausea and panic attached to them could spill out.

“Could you both stop? Please?” Aunt Kimberly yelled over from the living room. “What are you two even fighting about? Can you just cut it out? I was at work all damned day, I don’t need to come home to this. Okay?”

Their aunt wasn’t really equipped to take care of teenage girls, and each week that went by saw her attempts at being stern and laying down the law start to wear down into indifference and irritation. She had been real sympathetic at first due to the whole ‘child abuse’ situation, but then Ashlee had made the mistake of getting caught stealing things from her purse, and then gotten in even more trouble for lying about it. Back when they were still living with their parents it had been to obfuscate blame for missing stuff, because Erica and Brittany weren’t always united and didn’t trust each other, and they each had different friends that would come over. Ashlee had even pretended that Tabitha was still coming over.

All of that changed when they were shuffled off to live with their Aunt. Erica was gone off to the juvie center, and so Erica’s friends were out of the picture. Brittany was ashamed of their new living situation and didn’t want her peers seeing how she lived, here. That meant when something went missing, the list of suspects was just Ashlee and Brittany, and with them growing wise to her game, it meant Ashlee was always guilty, whether or not they could prove it.

“Ashlee about something super important,” Brittany tattled. “Now everyone at school thinks I’m just to try and mess with Tabitha.”

Ashlee cried.

“Only because Brittany shoved Ashlee again.

This time the fingers pressed higher up, enough to unbalance Ashlee and have the motion of the push knock the back of Ashlee’s head against the wall. hurt, and it was thankfully just enough to help Ashlee summon some tears to her eyes. Now she just had to find a way to squeeze past Brittany through the hall to show their aunt—then Brittany would be in way more trouble.

“Would you both just stop it?” Their aunt called over. “Brittany, you’re supposed to be steering clear of that Tabitha girl. Ashlee—”

Ashlee gloated. “She—”

“And Ashlee, stop trying to cause trouble,” Aunt Kimberly chastised her. “I know you’re trying to stir up trouble. You don’t need to have anything to do with that Tabitha girl, either.”

“But Ashlee protested, injecting disbelief and despair into her voice. “You can’t—”

“Stop faking it, you’re barely even really crying,” Brittany scoffed.

She tried to shove Ashlee again, but this time Ashlee was able to catch the pressing hands on the back of her arms and ward them off. was something Ashlee would have never, attempted to do with Erica—fighting back had been a mistake she made twice, and it had invited the most brutal retaliation Ashlee had ever experienced in her life. Things were different here, now that Erica was out of the picture. Ashlee wasn’t going to make it as easy for Brittany to push her around, anymore.

“Both of you stop, go on to your own separate rooms,” Aunt Kimberly ordered. “I don’t know what this is about this time, I don’t care, I’ve told you both a hundred times to just stop, so just stop. Go to your separate rooms— you can behave, you can come out for dinner.”

Seeing that their aunt wasn’t going to come break them up in person or appreciate her tears, Ashlee wiped them away across her face and gave her sister a triumphant sneer. It wasn’t really any kind of victory, but the important thing was to pretend like it was. Brittany of course wasn’t too impressed, and the older sister made a face and rolled her eyes before turning and storming off to the other bedroom.

“Whatever. Not like it matters?” Brittany muttered. “Your precious little went and messed with the cheerleaders. She’s basically signed her own death warrant. She’s

The door to Brittany’s room slammed, and that was when Ashlee felt like she had a small win. Because, for whatever bizarre reason thought the Tabitha at school was Ashlee’s old fat friend Tabitha. When in reality, they weren’t even the same person—everyone except Ashlee had bought into the imposter’s whole act somehow. They all thought the skinny preppy girl with lots of friends was which meant they never knew Tabby at all.

Ashlee felt a surge of glee.

With a rare rush of elation, Ashlee stepped down the hall and into her own tiny room. Unlike Brittany’s actual room, Ashlee was given of her Aunt’s place, but renovations back in the eighties meant it was a covered and enclosed porch, almost as good as a real room. Just, the carpets were thin outdoor carpet mats instead of plush ones like inside, and instead of floor vents for heat, she had to make due with a little space heater.

Ashlee felt bewildered.

“So… where you?” Ashlee wondered out loud, hopping on her bed. “If this ‘Tabitha’ is here… then where are you, who are you pretending to be? Being MADE to pretend to be…”

If they installed the fake Tabitha into Tabby’s life here, then didn’t that mean the real Tabby had been forced to assume the fake Tabitha’s life, wherever she was from? Which meant, whatever trouble that necessitated the switch had been inherited by Tabby. It was believable, because wouldn’t that just be Tabby’s luck? The poor oaf was probably sitting in a juvie center for someone else’s crimes, and no one would believe her.

Ashlee seethed.

The switch where two girls assumed each other’s different identities was implausible, but not impossible. Although Ashlee hadn’t seen the new advertised Lindsay Lohan that came out last year, they had the old one with Hayley Mills on tape, and she’d seen it dozens of times. Somehow or other, Tabby had been forced to switch places with this fake ‘Tabitha,’ and no one cared enough to look too closely or even really notice. Now this new ‘Tabitha’ was obviously up to no good, because she was pretty and popular and thrilled to stir up all kinds of drama in school.

Ashlee knew.

“Somehow or other, I’m gonna find you,” Ashlee told herself. “Going to save you. What I need to do—all I need to do, to make that happen, is expose ‘Tabitha’ the fake. Once everyone realizes then everyone will start to ask

Ashlee only hoped Tabby was okay. Hoped that she was only suffering in silence in some other different town, or maybe medicated into compliance and serving out someone else’s sentence in juvie, just waiting for the proper authorities to figure out what happened. Because, if the real Tabby was gone for good, if she was —then that meant Ashlee had lost her only friend in the entire world.

“Far from the imperial palace… a young woman named Mulan was busli—busi—um, busily writing. Notes. On her arm,” Hannah read out loud. “Today was the day for her meeting with the Matchmaker! And, she wanted to be prepared. If she proformed well—”

“—formed,” Tabitha corrected in a quiet voice.

“—If she well, she—” Hannah paused to find her place in the sentence again. “She would bring honor to her family, by making a good match in marriage!”

“Good job, Hannah,” Tabitha said.

“Sorry,” Hannah let out a deep sigh. “I messed up.

“It’s okay to mess up,” Tabitha assured her. “You don’t have to be sorry for—”

“But Hannah threw out her hands in aggravation, causing the paperboard cover of the in her hand to flap closed. “I even those ones already. Just, when I got to them I messed them up.

“You’re not stupid,” Tabitha said with a bitter smile. “You’re reading very well. Above your grade level! If—”

“Yeah, by Hannah retorted. “As if it’s even—”

“Come here, Hannah,” Tabitha patted the couch cushion next to her. “Let’s… take a break.”

“Ugh!” Hannah let out a grunt of frustration as she bounced onto the couch.

Her seven-year-old ward was in a mood, today. Tabitha found the change worrying—she feared that now that Hannah had broken decorum and shown her a tantrum, that some subtle pretense of perfect behavior had fallen away and now the real Hannah in all of her flawed glory had been revealed. Things different. Hannah talked back more now, she argued, she possessed that strange stubborn and childish pride, and then she also fished for constant compliments and desperate validation at every chance.

“Next page?” Hannah asked.

“Let’s… take a break,” Tabitha sighed.

“Fine,” Hannah huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t care.”

Now, Hannah was pouting.

She wasn’t really upset, but Hannah was trying very hard to display her obstinacy, because that might let her get her way with things. It was as if the dam had been broken last night, and now all sorts of issues were just pouring out. Most of it was juvenile enough that Tabitha could regard Hannah with a wry smile of amusement and shake her head, but… Tabitha had also had a very, very long day at school. She felt exhausted, and she’d hoped to come home and just have a huggable Hannah to sit with and decompress for a bit. The two girls sat in silence for several minutes, the smaller one fuming in apparent anger and the other simply staring off into space with a vacant expression.

“Next page?” Hannah prompted with impatience. “Tabitha?”

“...I got into a fight today at school,” Tabitha said. “With some girls.”

“You— Hannah sat up, forgetting her moody act.

“Yeah,” Tabitha sighed. “I—”

“Are you okay?!” Hannah exclaimed, tugging at Tabitha’s arm to examine her. “What happened?!”

“I… threw my own tantrum, I guess,” Tabitha said, allowing Hannah to check her over for injuries. “It felt like. Like, everyone just kept pushing and pushing and pushing me, and finally—I guess I pushed back.”

“I’m sorry,” Hannah blurted out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I—”

“Sh-sh-shh, I don’t mean you,” Tabitha let out a small laugh. “Here. Hug. Please?”

“Sorry,” Hannah said, lunging in to tackle Tabitha in a rather crushing hug. “Sorry…”

It —Tabitha felt like she might find a nasty bruise on her side later where a blunt seven-year old had cannonballed into her ribs—but, she hid her grimace and maneuvered her cast out of the way so that she could wrap a comforting arm around the little girl. She did still really need a hug right now, even if it hurt. It hurt though. It was at times like these Tabitha really discovered the consequences of losing all of the weight over the summer and adopting the vaunted physique—an emotional first-grader crashing into her side really felt like getting whacked by a sledgehammer.

Tabitha thought to herself, blinking away tears.

“You, ah, you had your tantrum, and then I had mine,” Tabitha said in a soft voice. “I think… I think the pressure has just been getting to us. To both of us.”

“The pressure?” Hannah asked. “What do you mean? Of what?”

“Yeah,” Tabitha gave Hannah’s back a pat. “The pressure of… It, um, over time it builds and it builds and it builds, and then…”

She had to hesitate for a moment in trying to convey her thoughts here, because song about pressure didn’t exist yet back here in the late nineties—so, Hannah wouldn’t know that one. Tabitha had a bunch of vague memories of different old cartoons depicting boilers becoming overwhelmed and then blowing, but it took her a few seconds to latch onto one to present in analogy.

“Well. It’s like Belle’s father Maurice, his invention,” Tabitha tried to explain. “Maurice’s machine. When his contraption was um, was building up steam, and then it just… exploded.”

Tabitha pursed her lips.

Hannah was still and silent, and Tabitha couldn’t tell if she agreed or disagreed.

Maybe Tabitha had gone overboard in finding a abstraction to explain something as obvious or common sense as the concept of pressure, and seemed like she was talking down to her. Hannah was probably no stranger to feeling pressure—it was just difficult to tell sometimes, because sometimes Hannah was shockingly astute and perceptive, and other times she was childish and immature.

“I was… in a bad mood today, and just so tired of girls at school pushing me around,” Tabitha admitted. “It gets so exhausting. I—I don’t mean to say I was in a bad mood because of you, because of your. Because of you getting upset last night. I just, I worry so much about this situation. Being here, and then what my mom’s going through, and. Stuff with my dad. The future. I didn’t have my usual patience to… with being pushed around at school, today.”

“I thought those girls got espelled,” Hannah grumbled in a quiet voice, still hiding her face against Tabitha’s shoulder. “The mean ones.”

Tabitha couldn’t help but smile. “The very mean girl did get expelled. Sort of. The one who hurt me at the party—”

“Erica Taylor,” Hannah hissed with surprising vehemence.

“Yes, her,” Tabitha sighed. “But… truth be told, none of the other girls at school ever liked me very much, either. A lot of them wanted to push me around, or test me. Put me in my place, I don’t know.”

“Why?” Hannah demanded.

“I… I wish I knew, Hannah,” Tabitha lied.

How could she describe the inane complexities of high school hierarchy to a seven-year-old girl? How could she convey the effects of hormones and moodiness that turned boring, mundane classroom settings into a powder keg of melodramatic problems? The web of alliances and narratives and the intangible paradigms of social standing and popularity were Stupid and crazy. No one would ever want to try to make sense of it all, unless they were infected with that same bitter madness—that is to say, unless they were a teenager themselves, battling out the trials of adolescence in high school.

She didn’t Hannah to understand that.

Tabitha wasn’t able to explain most of it to her, because most of it was nonsensical in the first place. What Tabitha wanted right now was a return to simplicity, to spend time with Hannah or her cousins; children. When kids were under pressure, it built up and then they threw a tantrum. That outburst was their release valve, and then afterwards things were fine, they could enjoy being back to normal. Hell, a new toy or a trip to McDonalds was enough to snap Hannah out of her terrible moods almost instantly.

Teenagers were different when they reached their breaking points. Their emotions were heightened, these intense feelings steeped into every waking thought and had a tendency to poison everything. Tabitha had been seething at the two cheerleader girls all day, and she was equally furious at Amber. At that aggressive, antagonistic art class girl who was just so immensely self-satisfied with herself for stirring up trouble without regard for facts or the truth of things.

Likewise, how could she ever convey the different facets of dissension here to Hannah? The points of opposition between teenagers sometimes became symbolic of their larger ‘ideology’—the cheerleader girls snapping at Elena for being ‘gothic,’ and Elena responding with barbed words of her own simply because those girls presented themselves as ‘preppy.’ Let alone the underlying issue of how everyone knew Elena was going to try out for cheer without conforming to their social distinctions. Associating culture or subculture with the petty politick and outright tribalism of high school drama honestly made things even worse. How do you explain to a seven year old, without realizing how superficial and pointless all of the conflicts really were?

Tabitha turned her weary eyes to the ceiling.

“So what happened?” Hannah pressed for details when she seemed to realize Tabitha wasn’t going to spill everything on her own. “With the girls.”

“They took my towel,” Tabitha revealed. “That neat one we bought. I had it hanging up in the girl’s locker room, and. They took it. The coach found out right away and got it back, made them apologize. But. They didn’t mean it at all. It felt like… it felt more like they were mocking me, than really apologizing. So, I—I don’t know what I said to them. I snapped at them, I guess. I was just being pushed around all the time. I am. I’m so over it. I don’t remember what I actually said. Hahhh…”

“Can’t they get espelled?!” Hannah demanded. “For stealing. Or in big trouble, at least. Stealing is a crime—

“They said it was an accident,” Tabitha gave the girl a helpless shrug. “...It wasn’t really an accident, though.”

“That’s not fair,” Hannah said, raising her head to give Tabitha a furious look.

“I know,” Tabitha agreed. “It’s really not. But—it’s complicated. They’re cheerleaders, and I think they’re all back to just spreading around lies about me. They’re used to getting their way with everything, and everyone’s used to letting that happen, because… they’re pretty and popular. That makes me too—yes, people listen to my side of things now, but sometimes it feels like didn’t even start until I lost all the weight and became ‘pretty’ enough for people to listen to. Which sure makes bittersweet. I know that’s not fair, I know I was, um. That I was to blame for a lot of it, because I was afraid to speak up, because I didn’t have the confidence to… do anything at all. I’m just. All of it. Sometimes, I just wish… I wish…”

Tabitha didn’t know what she was wishing for.

She wanted to be pretty and popular, but she was maybe realizing that the difficulty and stress involved with making that happen undermined or hollowed out any possible result she might achieve, there. Being the cool girl everyone liked was nice as an idle dream, but the process of making it happen really drained all the nice out of it, and turned it into something else entirely.

Tabitha thought to herself with a sour expression.

“Are you gonna tell mom?” Hannah asked, searching Tabitha’s expression.

“I… don’t know,” Tabitha said. “I don’t think I want to worry her with everything. Coach Baylor has a handle on it all, I guess. It’s all sort of stupid and pointless to begin with, I just… I can’t help but stew in it, sometimes. Let it get to me. Talking with you helps a lot though, Hannah Banana. You’re a good listener! A great listener. I feel a lot better, about everything, just because you’ve let me vent things out a bit.”

“Mom says I’m a terrible listener,” Hannah pouted. “But, I’m not terrible.

“I know you do,” Tabitha couldn’t help but smile and pat Hannah’s adorable head. “...Sometimes.”

“I do listen!”

“Well, when you do listen, you’re a great listener!” Tabitha was trying hard not to sound condescending. “The best. Thank you, Hannah.”

Cinnabun_1982: ya ik

Cinnabun_1982: i get it

Cinnabun_1982: STILL THO

born2bjedi: I dont know that it wuold be all that great anywys

born2bjedi: Were having other people over

Cinnabun_1982: rofl

Cinnabun_1982: ya prolly not but

Cinnabun_1982: still

Cinnabun_1982: :p

Cinnabun_1982: just want to see u

born2bjedi: I can ask?

Cinnabun_1982: YES

Cinnabun_1982: ASK

Cinnabun_1982: ASK ASK ASK

Cinnabun_1982: plz

Cinnabun_1982: lol

Cinnabun_1982: i mean if u want to

Cinnabun_1982: x.x

born2bjedi: Ok lol. One 2nd

Cinnabun_1982: <3 <3 <3

Cinnabun_1982: ur mom’s cooking is the bomb

Matthew leaned the dining room chair back on its rear two legs, until he was tilting far enough to see the whole way across to the living room. Mrs. Williams had been bustling around somewhere on that side of the house earlier, but he didn’t see her now. Their family computer was set up within an enormous wooden corner desk in the dining room, and the blocky monitor displayed the eBay page his mother had been fretting over all evening, with the smart gray rectangle frame of a Messenger chat window open in front of it. Knowing his mom would ask, he moved the cursor up and preemptively clicked on the big refresh symbol Internet Explorer featured in its row of top icons.

AUTHENTIC PORCELAIN 1890 IRONSTONE BOWL AND PITCHER ANTIQUE WASH STAND EXCELLENT CONDITION disappeared from the page heading, and the browser window went blank for several long seconds. Matthew stared intently instead at the bar at the very bottom, where an hourglass was now depicted. Text flickered through the status bar, from to and a number of other gibberish faster than he could read. Within just five seconds, the same eBay page was beginning to appear again, beginning with the website logo and search bar, then the side links, and finally the individual auction listing popped back into view. The jpeg images of the antique took another five seconds to generate, pixels loading in from the top row by row and steadily appearing back into place—with 32 megabytes of memory, their brand new Dell was a veritable nothing at all like their rickety old IBM computer.

Verifying that there were no new bids yet, Matthew dropped the chair back forward onto all four legs, and then rose from the seat and stretched. He was in just boxers and a t-shirt, so he knew his mother was going to pester him about getting changed for dinner. After all, they were having company over tonight—Sandra was coming over with Hannah and Tabitha. Sandra bringing over Hannah for an evening was nothing new, but Matthew feared he would be expected to entertain Tabitha tonight, which would be awkward and annoying. He would rather install Hannah in front of some cartoons to keep her occupied, and then keep chatting over Yahoo! Messenger with Casey.

Matthew lumbered forward across the living room in search of his mother.

“Mom?” Matthew called.

“Don’t yell in the house,” Mrs. Williams yelled back. “What is it?”

“I wasn’t yelling!” Matthew hollered. “There’s no new bi—”

“Is there any new bids?” Mrs. Williams interrupted. “On that pretty porcelain set? How much time is left?”

“Uhh—” Matthew padded back across the room to double-check. “Like, sixteen minutes.”

“What?” Mrs. Williams yelled.

“Don’t yell in the house!” Mrs. Williams called. “Is there any new bids?”

“No,” Matthew said.

“Are you getting ready?” Mrs. Williams demanded. “Sandra and the girls are going to be here, soon. Have you picked up your room? What are you wearing for dinner?”

“I—” Matthew paused. “Actually, uh. Is it cool if Casey comes over, too? For dinner.”

“Casey as in your girlfriend?” Mrs. Williams asked. “Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course that’s okay—that’s wonderful,” Mrs. Williams bustled out of the master bedroom. “Oh, shoot. Will we have enough pasta? I wasn’t sure if— They’ll be here in half an hour!”

“Mom,” Matthew slowly exhaled. “I’m capable of getting dressed within half an hour. Half an hour is—”

“Your girlfriend’s coming over, and look at you—when was the last time you brushed your hair and made yourself look nice? Did you shower after school? Do you have your thing set up in your room for Hannah and Tabitha? Your video game it is? Will there be room back there for everyone, if Casey’s coming, too? Do you want to set all that up out in the living room?

“I was gonna—”

“Why don’t you disconnect all that and bring it out here in the living room,” Mrs. Williams decided. “That way some of you can play your game, and then maybe Hannah or Tabitha can play on the computer. Doesn’t the computer have games for kids?”

“Hannah loves Matthew shrugged. “I guess Tabitha might like the Encyclopedia Britannica CD thing? I don’t really know what she’s into. Casey—”

“Well, hurry and get all that set up!” Mrs. Williams rushed past him to check on the pot that was simmering in the kitchen. “And—keep an eye on our auction, too! You said sixteen minutes left?”

“We don’t really have to watch it,” Matthew explained, returning to the desk and leaning over it to chicken-peck at the keyboard again. “Our maximum bid’s already set up.”

hah!” Mrs. Williams barked. “I’m getting that porcelain set. If we have to pay more than what we put in, then so be it. There’s already a place for it in the parlor!”

born2bjedi: She says its cool

Cinnabun_1982: rly???

Cinnabun_1982: X.X

Cinnabun_1982: omg b there in a bit

Cinnabun_1982: ily

Cinnabun_1982: <3

Cinnabun_1982: <3

born2bjedi: ily 2

born2bjedi: Oh and

born2bjedi: Just 2 warn u

born2bjedi: Hanna and her mom will be here

born2bjedi: And tabitha i think

Cinnabun_1982: rofl

Cinnabun_1982: kewl

Cinnabun_1982: bringin an art club shrt then

Cinnabun_1982: she can where art club stuff instead of stpuid cheerleader stuff @ school then

Cinnabun_1982: ok b there in 15

Cinnabun_1982: ilu Matthew

Cinnabun_1982: <3 <3 <3

c’mon we’ve gotta skedaddle!” Mrs. Macintire laughed. “Hannah—

“Then—” Hannah held up an arm as Tabitha helped guide it into a jacket sleeve. “Then can we get McDonald’s? On the way. You said—”

we’re not getting McDonald’s, Karen’s cooking tonight!” Mrs. Macintire cried out in exasperation. “You know very well she’ll whip up whatever you—”

“But you said she was making bad pasta!” Hannah tried to gesticulate her frustration, but Tabitha had captured her other hand and was fitting it into her jacket. “So—”

“Alfredo isn’t pasta, it’s just different,” Mrs. Macintire argued. “I think if you tried it, you’d probably like—”

“I try it, Mom!” Hannah protested. “I did before. I’ve tried bad pasta before. I didn’t like it!”

“It’s not bad pasta!” Mrs. Macintire insisted. “It’s alfredo! Even if don’t like it, please don’t insult Karen’s cooking and call it

“Sheesh!” Hannah muttered, sharing a glance with Tabitha. “Sheesh.”

“Sheesh!” Tabitha teased.

“It’s bad pasta,” Hannah confided in a whisper. “Bleh! It tastes really gross. It’s like, it’s like. It’s like

Tabitha smiled, but couldn’t help but cringe at the little girl’s description. Today, Officer Macintire was back at the station, and Mrs. Macintire had made plans for them to instead have dinner with Mrs. Williams and Matthew. Going over for a get-together at another family’s house was a bit of an unfamiliar concept to Tabitha, and this felt doubly strange after they had just had Mrs. Moore over here last night for that impromptu cookout. Different households meeting up for dinner and to socialize seemed like one of those stereotypical suburban sitcom things, and Tabitha had never put much thought into them.

Tabitha mused.

The only time people had been invited over in Tabitha’s memory was the night of the shooting—where Alicia and her mother both stayed over—and then the time everyone came over for trick-or-treating on Halloween. Likewise, the only instance where the Moores really went somewhere for dinner was Thanksgiving or Christmas at Grandma Laurie’s, so in Tabitha’s head, those kind of social visits adhered pretty strictly to holidays or big events.

Tabitha thought.

“Do you need help tying your shoes?” Tabitha offered, passing a little white sneaker over to Hannah.

“No, I can do it,” Hannah said. “Do you need help tying yours?”

“Hmm,” Tabitha pursed her lip. “I think I can probably manage.”

Like everything else, tying her own shoes while most of her fingers were immobilized in a cast wasn’t impossible, just it annoying. Over time Tabitha had grown used to these difficulties and challenges, and the only time she found herself truly impaired was when trying to do dishes. Managing to finagle the dishes clean without getting her cast wet was so impractical that it just really wasn’t worth the additional effort.

“Do you want to bring your Gameboy?” Tabitha asked. “So that you can Pokemon battle against Matthew?”

“Oooh—yes, Hannah jumped up and down. “I havta show him how cool mine are! You have to bring yours, too!”

“If you want me to,” Tabitha agreed with a small smile.

Hannah’s roster of pocket monsters was still somewhat in flux as the seven year old kept coming up with new ideas—right now, only three of them were high level. The starter Pikachu Hannah used from the beginning named and then the ‘husband and wife’ Gengar and Clefable, which Hannah had named and It had been determined early on that all of Hannah’s team would be named after characters from Disney animated films, which was a process that often involved hours of debate on which name fit which monster best.

In link battles against Tabitha, their wins and losses were roughly the same… although this was because for those fights Tabitha shelved her max level ‘serious team’ and instead fielded her ‘silly team’ whose levels were in the mid-forties. For that team of Pokemon, Tabitha disregarded stats and movesets and competitive advantage and just picked the monsters she thought were neat; Seaking, Venemoth, Persian, Parasect, Porygon, and Farfetch’d. To her surprise and dismay, even though most of these were mid or bottom-tier, they often Hannah’s team—unless Tabitha went out of her way to choose poor type matchups, or use less effective moves.

Tabitha thought with a wry smile.

“Chop chop chop, c’mon let’s go!” Mrs. Macintire appeared in the kitchen, still angrily brushing out her hair. “We’re gonna be late!”

“Um, would it be alright if we—?” Tabitha held up her Gameboy to ask for permission to bring them.

“Sure, sure—just, Hannah, you can’t be playing that while we’re at the table eating dinner,” Mrs. Macintire warned. “It’s for before or after, not during dinner. That would be rude.”

“O- Hannah groaned in exaggerated dismay. “I that’s fine. Can Momma Williams make me macaroni and cheese?”

“We’ll see, Hannah-ta-pana,” Mrs. Macintire rolled her eyes as she tossed the brush to the counter with a clatter and grabbed her purse. “I am allowing ketchup on mac and cheese, though—it’s unconscionable. Okay, are we all ready? Let’s go!”

The drive over to the Williams’ place was relatively short and sweet, with Sandra’s Acura pulling them out of one suburb, down Springton’s main street a ways, and then turning into yet another suburban neighborhood. Hannah was staring down at her Gameboy with a look of determination as she hurried to bring her character back towards a Pokecenter, and Tabitha gazed out the windows and watched scenery pass by. Rather than ruminating over what a trying day it had been, she was wistfully watching the sidewalk routes through town and just wishing she could run again already.

The cheerleader jacket had not been shown to the Macintires after school, because Tabitha didn’t want to get into all of that again—the cheerleading or any of the other drama—right now. Admitting to Hannah that she had an altercation with some girls at school back then was as far as she wanted to delve into things, because going over things a second time with Sandra would just start getting her worked up again. Her time after school needed to be a bit of a respite from wrestling with all of issues. Tabitha had felt exhausted all day.

The neighborhood the Williams lived in was just as upscale as Tabitha remembered from her last visit back after Thanksgiving. Late afternoon light was shining down across tidy lawnscapes and neatly manicured bushes and shrubs, as though this part of town was simply a little more blessed than some of the other areas. Mrs. Macintire pulled into the driveway there beside Mrs. William’s car, but there was no patrol vehicle in sight—it seemed that tonight’s dinner would not include either of the officers, and instead be a ladies get-together.

“Look who it is,” Mrs. Macintire observed with a smirk. “No, ‘cross the street—you see that SUV, there?”

“Casey!” Tabitha’s eyes lit up. “Hannah, Casey might be with us, tonight. Matthew’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah I know Casey,” Hannah nodded, glancing up from her game for a moment. “I’m gonna battle her.”

“Well,” Tabitha helped Hannah unbuckle her seatbelt. “She might not have her Gameboy with her. I’m sure Matthew will, though!”

“I can beat Matthew,” Hannah scoffed. “I bet I can beat him,

“Hm, is that so…” Tabitha wondered.

Everyone climbed out of the vehicle, and Tabitha couldn’t help but remember that fateful night Mrs. Williams had bustled her inside with a stolen purse full of Aunt Lisa’s heroin. It truly hadn’t been that long ago, and even though the sun had been out all day, Tabitha felt some of that same chill from back then. Noticing that Hannah was too focused on her Gameboy to walk up to the door with them, Tabitha wore a wry smile and walked around the vehicle and put a hand across the little girl’s back to help guide her in the right direction.

“Good Lord, Hannah,” Mrs. Macintire rolled her eyes.

“This feels… weird,” Tabitha admitted. “Should we have brought something? A dish? We could have brought a casserole, or, or—”

“Oh, please,” Mrs. Macintire laughed. “That’d just be embarrassing myself. We only even brought potatoes this past Thanksgiving ‘cause is a picky eater and won’t eat real ‘tatoes. Listen, I’m an okay cook, I’m decent enough, but Karen for this stuff.”

“We could have brought some of the steaks,” Tabitha smiled.

“Maybe some other time, when the hubbies are with us,” Mrs. Macintire shrugged. “They’re a lot more into the grilling and cookout stuff. Those types. Psh. Men! Just— still. I couldn’t believe it coming home yesterday, and seeing you whackos out in the back yard. What was he thinking?!”

“It’s not that bad, this time of day,” Tabitha giggled as Mrs. Macintire rung the doorbell. “Not once the sun’s been out. Almost sixty-ish?”

“Yeah, forever, grilling,” Mrs. Macintire argued. “Plenty of time to get nice and cold!”

“But,” Hannah spoke up without raising her head from her game. “Grills are hot. So.”

“True, it wasn’t so bad for us two,” Tabitha grinned. “We were right there in front of the grill!”

“He’s not even supposed to be eating steaks,” Mrs. Macintire griped. “Doctor Diana’s gonna throw a fit.”

“Why?” Hannah asked. “Too hard to chew?”

“Hahh, no sweetie,” Mrs. Macintire shook her head. “Your daddy’s supposed to not eat red meats or stuff with saturated fats while he’s in recovery. She said lean meats only—fish, chicken, turkey, are okay. Everything he brought home yesterday is not!”

“Oh,” Hannah nodded. “So… he’ll get fat.”

Before they could correct her, the door swung open to reveal the stout but jolly figure of Karen Williams.

“You’re here!” Mrs. Williams stepped back to invite them in. “Come in, come in—Matthew invited his girlfriend Casey, as well! You all remember Casey. Hannah, Sandra, she must be a couple inches taller, every time I see her! Tabitha, you’re looking good! We get that cast off real soon, I hear?”

“Um!” Tabitha put on a smile at the sudden barrage of cheer. “Yes.”

“Well come in, Mrs. Williams laughed. “Hannah, I see you got one of those handheld games! Was that for Christmas? Is this new? I think that looks new.”

“Yeah,” Hannah nodded. “Christmas.”

“She hasn’t looked up from the thing in days, seems like,” Mrs. Macintire teased. “Hasn’t even had time for her cartoons!”

The three were ushered inside, and Tabitha looked around at the furnishings with polite interest. Unlike her last visit here, this wasn’t near a time and the oppressive seasonal display of decorations didn’t festoon every available surface. Instead, the place just looked… nice. A bit more welcome and inviting, it now felt more like an ordinary place where people lived their lives.

Hannah was already at home here, hurrying on past the familiar dining room table where Tabitha had once spread out the contents of her aunt’s purse—it was now set for six, with plates and silverware—and passing into the living room beyond. One of the other differences to notice now was that a computer monitor here in the corner was turned on rather than sitting dormant. It was an old, archaic late-nineties computer sitting in a massive wooden corner desk, perhaps part of a home office of some sort. Tabitha followed after her young ward without more than a glance of interest at the PC, while Sandra and Karen had already gotten into gossiping with one another in hushed voices.

In the Williams living room, Matthew and Casey were sitting together in front of the couch while holding those peculiar three-handle controllers. Cables snaked across the carpet in front of them to Matthew’s game console, which appeared to have been brought out of Matthew’s room for this evening and temporarily set up on the floor in front of them here. When Tabitha looked past Hannah to see the screen, she was surprised to recognize the game—it was a much older and more simplistic version of Tabitha had fiddled around with that one a bit in the future, because it was one of the titles packed in with her Nintendo Magi. Seeing the familiar minigame but this time in blocky ‘nineties graphics’ was a little interesting.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Tabitha thought to herself with a wry smile.

“Hannah!” Casey cried out. “Matthew’s bullying me. You have to come help!”

“Yeah, right,” Matthew said. “It’s a trick! She’s lyin, she’s ahead by two stars. Don’t listen to her, Hannah!”

“I brought my Pokemon!” Hannah said, holding up her game. “So that we can

“Oh shoot— you should have told me we could battle tonight!” Casey protested. “I left my Gameboy at home. Should I run back over it and get it?”

“I’ve got mine,” Matthew said.

“Matthew—” Hannah squared her shoulders and pointed a finger at him.

“Hey, Tabitha!” Casey offered her a wave. “Good to see ya.”

“Hey,” Tabitha replied with an awkward wave. “Yeah, cool seeing you here.”

“So, I heard at school that—” Matthew started to say.

“Nope!” Tabitha interrupted with a weak smile. “Nope, nope. What, do you want your mother to hear?!”

“Hah, alright,” Matthew shook his head. “Just, like. You alright?”

“I’ll manage,” Tabitha blew out a long sigh. “Somehow.”

“Olivia’s had your back,” Casey gave her a quick thumbs up before returning both hands to her controller. “I don’t know how even got started, but. Yeah. At least it’s getting shut down right away, this time.”

“Yeah,” Tabitha nodded. “It’s just. Especially since it feels like every time the next class starts… everyone wants to bring everything up all over again!”

“This too shall pass,” Casey chuckled. “This too shall pass.”

“What will?” Hannah asked. “The kids at school?”

“The ones I was… arguing with, today,” Tabitha said.

“Oh, right,” Hannah said. “Yeah—Tabitha already told me.”

“Well, I guess you and Tabitha can play Mario Party while Hannah and I Pokemon battle,” Matthew said, setting down his controller as he lost the minigame match in spectacular fashion. His and several other characters slumping in defeat as the camera zoomed in instead upon Casey’s jumping into a victorious pose.

“Or—the computer’s on,” Matthew remembered. “Mom was asking if you had an email address or anything, yet. I told her I dunno. If you want, you can sign up and make an account somewhere. —I think they’re all free.”

For a moment Tabitha was stimply stunned and froze in place at his words.

“Y-you guys have internet?!” Tabitha almost gasped.

“Yeah, we have Earthlink,” Matthew gave her a casual nod. “I’m on a couple bulletin boards, I’ve got messenger. Mom needs it to satisfy her addiction. I’m sure you’ve heard of eBay—s’like a worldwide… garage sale… uhhh kinda thing?”

Tabitha struggled to stamp out the personal bias that had colored her perception there.

A multitude of feelings crashed through her one after the other at the prospect of being re-introduced to the internet. Surprise came first and foremost. Because she knew that the world wide web didn’t sprout into existence right when she started using it in the early two-thousands, but in her mind personal computers and net access were still an extremely rare thing back here in the late nineties. Perhaps college students studying engineering, or ultra-nerd technology enthusiasts might have their own computers and be involved in the early internet, but that would surely not include average families like the Williamses!

She also couldn’t help but feel a little miffed, as if one of her advantages had been stolen out from under her. Additionally, upon really realizing how little she knew about the programs and idiosyncrasies of net use back in 1999 made Tabitha feel as though one of her oldest and closest companions, —whom she had been bosom buddies with for most of her life—was at this point in time virtually a stranger to her. Foreign, strange and unfamiliar. Finally, the feeling that coursed through Tabitha in the end was a disquieting sense of

Tabitha thought with a sheepish stretch of her lips.

Tabitha remembered a lot of the light novels and webfiction stories where a modern character reincarnates or transmigrates often glossed over that issue without more than a passing sentence or two, but the cold hard reality of it was that being without internet, It was endlessly aggravating not being able to things she was curious about whenever they popped into mind. Sitting in the bathroom without a phone or bracelet PC of some kind was obnoxious after one spent most of their life used to having those on hand. Laying in bed at night as the day winds down and having all of the idle entertainment in the universe to scroll through at her leisure was just… boring!

So what if computers right now were retro, or slow, or connected to the early web only via the screeching horror that was dial-up? Throughout her life, escape into the internet had been her greatest source of comfort. The allure of anonymity, the boundless sea of information and entertainment, and the siren-call of communities and collectives that created the little bastions called fandoms. More than all of that even, the early internet represented so much untapped that the idea of immersing herself into everything again was downright hypnotizing!

All of these thoughts were racing through her head as she followed along behind Matthew back over to the family computer in the dining room.

Tabitha had maybe noticed the computer setup here on her prior visit, but hadn’t been able to pay it any attention due to the circumstances—Tabitha had just fled from her family in the middle of the night with a stolen purse full of drug evidence. Tension had been high, and Tabitha only really remembered sitting stiff and upright, shell-shocked, while the Williams family and their visiting relatives fretted over the situation.

To really take the time and examine it now, the bulky gray box shape of a computer monitor all but from its position on the sturdy wooden corner desk. The screen was perhaps only twenty inches across and disconcertingly rather than the wide flatscreen rectangles Tabitha was accustomed to from the future—but, nothing about the thing seemed CRT monitors of this era were they had a certain tangible heft about them. She knew from watching documentaries that this thing was a solid, nigh-immovable edifice packed thick with almost sixty pounds of glass; vacuum tubes of astonishing thickness filled with archaic —mercury and lead and phosphorus dust—as well as a primitive high-voltage capacitor that would retain a veritably lethal charge even hours and hours after the device was shut off.

Likewise the computer tower itself was huge, occupying the entirety of a tall cabinet compartment within the desk. The machine appeared antiquated to the point of being alien to her, and it took several seconds of staring to begin to identify why. The unfamiliar greebling that festooned the molded plastic were which might slide out a tray to accept a compact disk at the touch of one of those buttons; this Dell featured two trays for such CDs, and then even a specialized slot just below for inserting

Tabitha blinked.

“If you want, I can get you online and you can play around,” Matthew offered. “You have a Yahoo! address, or anything?”

“Um,” Tabitha swallowed. “...No?”

“Let’s make one!” Casey suggested, borrowing another chair from the table to position it beside the one at the computer desk. “I can help you get it all set up.”

“Sure?” Tabitha said in a daze.

Hannah followed Matthew into his bedroom as he searched for his link cable, and Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Macintire were talking over in the kitchen, and so Tabitha sat down in relative privacy with Casey at the corner desk. It was hard not to feel a rush of at being online again, and Tabitha’s mind rushed from one potential username to the other as she tried to figure out what the perfect one would be to use.

Tabitha suppressed a giddy smile.

“So…” Casey dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you know computers? Like, from the future.”

“Yes, but—” Tabitha surveyed the outdated-seeming machine, and couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Well.”

“So, you know all the ins and outs, here?” Casey’s look turned a little skeptical. “You were uhhh. You were just looking this beauty over like you’ve never seen one before.”

“The ones I was more familiar with were… quite a bit more advanced?” Tabitha couldn’t help but wince. “I’m um, I’m by no means an expert in retro computing, or anything! This vintage stuff.”

“Hah, oh okay, Casey chuckled. “Really? So, this brand new, machine is like, what—like a Ford Model T, to you?”

“I wouldn’t go far, exactly,” Tabitha said, reaching up with her good hand and trying out the mouse. “Just—yes, it is quite old. Look! Big mechanical keyboard, with the keys. mouse actually attached with a cord, and—look, look at the bottom of the mouse. It has a little trackball inside, wow. Really does look like hard-boiled egg yolk. There’s memes about that, you know.”

“Yeah?” Casey rested an elbow on the computer desk and put on a provoking grin. “So, lemme guess, aren’t a thing in the future? Computer You’ll maybe have the little laptop touchpads instead, or with the red soft button mouses? Or, motion trackers? How are keyboards in the future? Let’s see, they must be—what, holograms? Like the Doctor, in Star Trek Voyager.”

“Mechanical keyboards actually still a thing in the future,” Tabitha admitted, stretching her fingers out and putting her hand over to try the keys. “The whole way through the twenty-forties. Just, I don’t think I’d ever used one. They’re supposed to be better than membrane keyboards? More responsive, last longer. I know gamers supposedly preferred mechanical keyboards.”

“And, the future version of keyboards are ‘membrane’ instead of ‘mechanical?’” Casey asked. “Membrane like, what—organic? Bio-cybernetic, or something?”

“No, no, it’s just little rubber pressure membranes, instead of the individual mechanical switches, I think?” Tabitha pursed her lips as she tried to remember. “I know they’re slimmer? The keys are, on membrane style keyboards. Definitely quieter! They don’t last as long as mechanical ones though, or at least mine definitely didn’t. I always got the cheapo Logitech keyboard and mouse set though, because that’s what I was used to. Walmart brand. Wireless, of course—just about all of the peripherals for PCs or game consoles go wireless right away in the future. Game controllers, keyboards, mouses—”

“Mice?” Casey giggled.

“—Hah, yes, but also even little things like headphones,” Tabitha explained. “Coming back to the nineties, it’s fascinating to see everything wired! Cords everywhere, getting all tangled and everything.”

“Wireless… headphones?” Casey frowned as she tried to picture them. “Okay… but. But Wouldn’t they be heavy? ‘Cause, they have to be powered from a battery, right?”

“Not too heavy?” Tabitha shrugged. “Earbuds have little tiny built-in ones, and I know their charge is good for hours and hours. I think even back in the nineties here they had hearing aids, right? Same principle, I would guess.”

“Okay…” Casey gave a slow nod. “I guess that makes sense. Kinda. So—everything in the future is remote control? Even game controllers?”

“Yep!” Tabitha decisively nodded in return. “I think for me, I had to remember—it was double A batteries for my mouse, and then the keyboard that went with it was always triple As.”

“Remote control speakers, too?” Casey gestured at the boxy pair of speakers nestled in on either side of the computer monitor. “Or, no?”

“Um,” Tabitha frowned at the speakers in confusion. “No? I don’t think so. Disconnected… separate speakers aren’t really a huge thing, in the future? Or, if they were, they weren’t for me, at least. Maybe just for audiophiles who are real particular about their setups? Usually flatscreen TVs and monitors all have built-in speakers, so. Yeah. At least, mine did?

“Oh! Wait! There is important thing about all of this future stuff that I need to warn you about!” Tabitha leaned in close. Home printers are a Buying replacement ink cartridges for them will cost and they’re one of those stupid cruddy things where they’re designed to go dry really fast and need to be replaced. Or, some sensor will see a certain amount of time has elapsed and tell you they need replaced, whether they actually do or not! Something like that. Also, the print heads and internals will crud themselves up after just a couple uses and throw you into because yeah, no it’s never gonna work when you really need some important document printed out. So. Don’t even bother! Just expect to have to swing by a public library and pay a couple quarters, if you ever need something printed. Don’t have your own printer.

“Um. Okay,” Casey blinked at the sudden and intense vitriol. “Wow.”

“It’s not worth it, please—trust me,” Tabitha gave Casey a serious look. “Like yeah they nice. pick up a thirty dollar printer? Well, I’ll tell you why; because you’ll set it up and use it the first time and everything’s all dandy—then, a month later when you try to use it? No can do, it’s gonna tell you to buy a new cartridge of black. How much will that run? Like, twenty nine ninety-nine. And it’ll be good and last… until you need to next use the printer. Odds are some other random error will pop up and yeah, good luck with

“Okaaaay,” Casey chuckled. “And, you said the mouse having a trackball is ‘old-fashioned?’”

“Yes! Definitely,” Tabitha confirmed. “In the near future, those will all change to a laser sensor of some kind. Mousepads like this somewhat aren’t always needed, either. I mean, some people still use them I guess, but I didn’t. My mouse tracked just fine from using it on my bare desk. Or if I was like standing, as in I’d just walked over towards my desk to check something real quick, instead of to use the mouse on the surface there, I could just—pick the mouse up, and use it on my thigh here like this, it would track all the same just from the laser being able to pick up the texture of my pant leg.”

“So, again—to you, all of is super outdated tech,” Casey gestured across the whole desk. “Or, so you claim!”

“Yes,” Tabitha giggled. “All of this here was stuff from uh, from before ‘my time.’ My first computer I got used to was in um, I think it was junior year Maybe it was senior year? First learning to type, and how to format documents, and whatnot. Even that was on Windows XP! I Windows XP. This is, uhh. Looks like Windows ‘98? I’ve never used it before.”

“Got it,” Casey nodded. “So, in the future it’s instead of Windows by whatever the year it is.”

“God, Tabitha made a disgusted face. “No, after XP it was which I hated. Then after that, I was on Windows 7 for a long, long time, before I finally had to upgrade to Windows 11. After that I was just on Android, which is a whole different bag of cats.”

“Doesn’t make… a ton of sense?” Casey tried to follow along. “So it’s and then and then

“Ummm—” Tabitha wracked her brains to try to remember. “For me? Yes. I do think there were other versions in between, but just, I never got some of those. Windows 2000? That was a thing, I think? Or ‘Millenium Edition,’ or something like that. I know there was a Windows 10, but I never had it—I kept using Windows 7 throughout that period. So, yeah. Honestly? I wish I could’ve stuck with XP instead of having to switch to Vista, but my one computer just… crapped out on me.”

“How far into the future are we talking, here?” Casey asked, idly fiddling with her bangs. “And—what was this about

“Android was just the name of the operating system, sadly,” Tabitha giggled. “It wasn’t like an actual humanoid robot, or C-3PO, or anything like that. It wasn’t even a popular OS—my friend Julie was always ragging on me for it. She was team iPhone. It’s uh, it’s a super stupid cultural thing.”

“How far into the future is this?” Casey asked again.

“Oh, not far at all—well, early to mid two-thousands, maybe?” Tabitha said. “I don’t think you’ll see iPhones for a while yet, but iPods should come out either this year or next, and then Apple products in general will be huge, soon. All of that’s eventually leading into phones, though. Smartphones. Personal computers like this kind of fell out of vogue, once smartphones could do everything they could. Like I was a writer, so yeah I did still buy a mouse and keyboard, but instead of a PC, the actual processing was done by my phone, and instead of a big monitor like this, everything just linked up to my wall TV automatically. Bluetooth, it’s um, I guess you’d call it a specialized kind of wireless connectivity? Common and convenient.”

“Are holograms ever a thing?” Casey asked. “To me, that’s like—holograms are what I consider

“They are, yes,” Tabitha nodded. “They start off as pseudo-holograms, like um, like 3D screens you don’t need glasses for. Then there were projectors, but they were that sort of expensive things only for rich people. When they started making them cheap enough to put everywhere, the graphical fidelity actually a ton, so it was all super simplified colors and shapes. Eventually over each iteration they got better and better?”

“So—are there Casey demanded. “Like, in

“Mmmmnn— Tabitha made a face. “Kinda, sorta. I know Disney world had a big attraction that was all about the super-advanced ‘photoreal’ holograms, but. I never went, too pricey. Or, maybe it was Epcot? It looked neat, from the advertisements? No idea how much of that was just exaggeration or hyperbole for promotional purposes. Sometimes in movies you’d see like, the super wealthy bazillionaires with their own high-resolution hologram suites, but I think most of that was made-up, too. Fiction.”

“But, they really do happen in the future?” Casey asked. “Like lifelike… hologram virtual reality?”

but with the caveat being that it only works like that in extremely specific conditions?” Tabitha smiled. “The thing with holograms is, they project One of the big important parts of high fidelity images… is which holograms can’t create. At all. True blacks and all that, even a lot of the hi-res TVs and monitors struggled with that, and I think only those stupid expensive ones pulled it off. I think. I’m not a resolution snob! Total scam.

“Now holograms, they can get better and better about light not refracting and bleeding over into parts that are supposed to be dark, but… yeah, it’s never perfect. You can always tell. There’s always level of bleed, and compensating by just making the defined light brighter just starts to oversaturate the projections. That’s always one of the easy tells as to if something is a hologram or not, the searing brights, the oversaturation.”

“Huh,” Casey responded. “Guess that’s neat to think about?”

“It’s um—” Tabitha felt heat rush to her face in a blush. “It’s actually kinda crazy that you believe me. About any of this! I guess I’ve been uh, basically been rambling for a little while?”

“Wellll—” Casey gave her a smile and propped up one elbow on the backrest of her chair while she brushed back her own bangs and ran fingers through her hair. “I guess that… yeah, nah? I don’t really believe it.”

“You… don’t?” Tabitha froze.

“So yeah, here’s the thing,” Casey hurried to clarify. “S’not like I like talking to you, or going on about all this, or—yeah. Just. I’m two years older than you, I’ve been around the block. The future stuff, it fun to talk about. Entertaining! But…”

Casey made eye contact with Tabitha and held it for a long moment, eventually pursing her lips as if deciding something to herself.

“But, listen, Tabitha. You don’t Casey said. “Not really. The whole future thing. You’ve, yeah you’ve clearly put a lot of thought into things, and Just, I uh, I worry that? Well, I think that. You know. You come from a uh, a poor background, you really want people to like you. When you get all into interesting stories, like the future stuff—it’s like suddenly for once, people are actually listening to you. And that’s addictive. I just, like I worry that you might get yourself into it and let it get into like, obsession territory?”

Tabitha was now blushing so furiously that it was a struggle not to turn away or hide her face.

“Hey, hey—it’s totally cool!” Casey assured her. “I really do get it. It’s like—yeah, with Alicia. She all this stuff. She was telling me the other day in Art Club, uhh about how malls are all gonna go out of business because of web stores, about how in the future everyone’s crazy about yoga, or something. That—”

“Just yoga pants, not really yoga itself, Tabitha laughed, dropping her face into her palm. “The style of… athletic stretchwear in general. I mean…”

“Okay, cool,” Casey nodded quickly. “Cool! I mean that. And like—you I think, you really latched on to this, ‘cause for once maybe it felt like people were listening to what you had to say. For Alicia, she’s the same way. She was telling me how, because she’s from Fairfield middle and didn’t know anyone, and because she’s black, her first few days here at school, no one would give her the time of day. No one would really just come up and talk to her. were the first one to take that initiative and try reaching out to her about something, and so… basically whether or not she believes you about the future stuff, she’s gonna believe you. You know?”

“Oh my God,” Tabitha sighed in total embarrassment, scrunching her eyes closed. “It’s—”

“Okay well is, that you don’t the future stuff story,” Casey explained. “You’re cool just the way you are, you don’t need to uhh, to be ‘special,’ or have something interesting thing about you, for people to like you. You’re cool; people can just like you for you. I like you! I just worry, like now with you and the whole thing, that you have this like… subconscious compulsion? That you’re trying really really hard to be this certain way you imagine you need to be, instead of, I guess just learning to be yourself? Sorry, shit, I’m really bad at this.”

“No, no—I—” Tabitha let out a small laugh. “I just—”

“No, for real, I was the same way when I was your age!” Casey assured her. “Hell, maybe I was even worse. Probably way worse. Just, yeah. For me, it was, uhh, well back then the Art Club had all these who were like these badass punks, I really wanted to be cool with them. I tried Looking back now, it’s funny. I got super into trying to draw my little Cinnabun comics, even though they suck. Now, here I am basically in their position, except I’m still just this random dorky me. You know?

Casey cleared her throat and tried to quickly change the subject. “Like I said, the future is really rad, and that you put so much thought into all of it—also really rad. It’s awesome. I mean that. Okay? Just, I hope you won’t completely obsess over it or let get in the way of, like, the here and now. If that makes sense?

They both broke into a small fit of giggles at Casey’s impression—the older girl’s laughter was rather contagious. As mortifying as this surprise was, she found there was plenty to appreciate in the perspective the girl was offering. Tabitha maybe dwell on the future too much, and going on her long rants to vent about this or that or how things would be in the future really didn’t progress things here where she was in the present. It wasn’t not like she wanted to imagine it was, and lingering on with gripes and complaints about a future she couldn’t let go of was maybe having of an impact on who she was here and now.

“I… yeah, thank you,” Tabitha said as her smile began to dim. “I appreciate all of that. That’s… something I’m going to have to put more thought into. But, also… Casey, what if, by some crazy chance, I really from the future?”

“Then in that case, you tell me?” Casey shrugged. “Because then, you’d be the one with all the answers. You’d be the one to have everything already figured out.”

“Hahhhh…” Tabitha let out a big sigh. “I… I really wish that were the case.”

“Yeah,” Casey shrugged again. “But, like. I don’t hate you going into all of the stuff, that’s super cool! I’m sorry I don’t believe it, or that I can’t believe it, just. What can I say, I don’t. I’m a skeptic at heart? I mean I go to church, but I don’t think I really have belief there, either. Faith or whatever, not like some of the others seem to. Then I hang out with some of my friends who are all outspoken against religion, and then It’s weird.

“Maybe I’m just a very contrary person? I uhh, I totally didn’t mean to like, here, or talk down to you, or be all I just, I feel like you got into the swing of this story, for a bunch of reasons, and maybe started to lose sight of why, or what got you hooked into it in the first place? I dunno! Hah. I think, look what I’m saying, is. You should forget about cheerleading and all that bogus trying to be cool, or stories to get people to like you stuff, and just get into art club with us! Yep. We can accept and appreciate you for who you are. Muah ha hah.

“Duly noted!” Tabitha grinned. “I want to also do art club. I’ll try to do both, if I can. Both Alicia and Elena are important to me.”

“And—just so you know,” Casey paused to give Tabitha a serious look. “The uhh, all the stuff? The cheerleadery crowd isn’t gonna be into that. At all.”

“The crowd?” Tabitha laughed. “I, uh. Yeah. I figured! The future stuff isn’t something I generally… or anything. Just, it came up with a few people, and… yeah. Elena is actually still really against it.”

“Okay, cool,” Casey nodded. “I’m not though—it’s super cool to talk about. Hell, me and Matthew spend a lot of time just kinda wondering and speculating about this or that. To a uh, it’s a super completely normal thing to talk about. Just, maybe not to go as far with things as you have. No offense, or anything!”

“I get it,” Tabitha bobbed her head in agreement. “I get it.”

“You know,” Casey regarded Tabitha with a big grin. “I was gonna ask you to like, prove you’re actually good with computers and type something. But, you can’t really type while your hand’s in that cast, huh.

“I’ll be able to show you soon!” Tabitha smiled back. “If you want. Mechanical keyboard or not, I’m fast. Not even boasting—that’s just decades and decades of experience! Hah. I was a writer, and even more than that, I was a loser, who spent a lot of her free time chatting with people.”

“So, I take it your family has a computer?” Casey looked at her with interest. “‘Cause, if you have Yahoo! Messenger already, you should add us. I’m Can you believe it? The name ‘Cinnabun’ just by itself was already taken. Now some bullshit.”

“The Macintires I’m living with don’t have a computer, no,” Tabitha shook her head. “My family in the trailer park—definitely not. No way could they afford one.”

“So, you learned to type, you got into all the computer stuff, what, at school?” Casey asked. “I think I remember you used to chill in the library every day at lunch, where all the computers are.”

“Hahhh—” Tabitha let out a bitter laugh. “I mean. It’s the nineties, I highly doubt they have each of the dozen or so library computers hooked into some landline dial-up connection. I think those are all hooked into a little local network with some games and educational resource stuff.”

“Uhhh—no?” Casey gave her a strange look. “The school has hi-speed internet. Like, not just our school, Kentucky’s the very first state to have hi-speed internet for every school district. Since back in ninety-five, I think. It was a huge deal? That’s where I got started on the net with everything, my parents didn’t even get a home computer ‘til last year.”

“Haha, what?” Tabitha stared at Casey in disbelief. “That’s—no way.”

“Yeah way,” Casey arched an eyebrow. “You can ask Matthew.”

Tabitha cast a blank stare at part of the desk as the numb feeling of shock began to subside. What she have been doing with her time? Spending all of it on the internet, like a recluse? Would that have been better, would her second try at life have really changed and been different from the first? Would she have made time to play with her cousins, sit with her grandma at the sewing machine, or started to reconnect with her parents? Would Tabitha have put so much time into exercising or self-improvement over this past summer, if she knew she could instead ride a bike to the Springton library and spend every possible minute online?

“O-oh,” Tabitha felt so mortified that she could just curl up and die. “I, hahh, I guess that um, I guess that that’s a… fortunate misconception? In fact, it’s probably better that I realize that!”

“Tabitha,” Casey reached up a hand and patted Tabitha on the shoulder. “You’re not from the future.”

“No, no I really am! I’m just—well,” Tabitha couldn’t help but give Casey a helpless smile. “I’m just an idiot? I-I just, I didn’t realize. Being from the future doesn’t mean I know My first time through, I was—well, a very deeply flawed, completely normal human being! I can’t remember everything!”

“Okay, Tabitha,” Casey gave her an exaggerated nod. “Yeah. Uh-huh.”

“Maybe you’ll start to believe me a little bit once comes out! Star Wars!”

“Pssh, yeah right,” Casey rolled her eyes. “That’s why I didn’t believe you one bit back then in the first place! It’s it’s gonna be There’s zero percent chance it won’t be.

“You know, It’s thinking like that that led to the sequel trilogy turning into such an incoherent mess!” Tabitha shook her head in teasing dismay. “And, the prequels? Hah! Well. You’ll see.

Hannah popped into the dining room from around the corner, dancing and hopping in delight. “I totally beat him. Fair! And! Square! Fair and square!”

“She totally cheated,” Matthew laughed, following her in to stand behind them. “A Gengar? C’mon, that’s totally cheap.”

Hannah gasped. “Matthew! It is not!!”

“You guys get an email set up already?” Matthew leaned over Casey’s shoulder to see the screen. “What name’d you pick?”

“No, not yet,” Casey swatted his stomach. “We were talking.”

Without much further ado, Tabitha input her information into the fields to register for an account there. While she would have preferred to open off with a account for familiarity’s sake, the provider was half a decade from fruition—and besides, everyone in the local circle of teenagers online seemed to favor Yahoo messenger. Asking about other messengers revealed that and were around, but Tabitha received only blank stares from Casey and Matthew when asking about the more obscure For a brief period in the early ‘aughts, Tabitha had used after which the practice fell out of vogue as everyone began texting each other directly to their flip phones or early slide phones.

The username Tabitha finally decided on was which had been Julie’s writing moniker. The name and Julia B. Brittany’s ‘edgy online persona’ which drove its creation would otherwise never come about in lifetime, because Tabitha’s major long-term resolution was to ensure Julie was never abused throughout her childhood. Whether that meant pre-emptively reporting her father to child services, adopting her personally, or even kidnapping her!

Tabitha vowed.

Still spectating their progress from behind their chairs, Matthew also started walking through how Tabitha could set up her own page, which was something Tabitha had tinkered with in her previous life but did not remember well at all. Getting online done at early-internet speeds was an excruciating exercise in patience, and watching the poor web pages struggle to slowly load in with their pathetic processing power continued to earn incredulous stares of amusement from Tabitha. Hannah, however, found all of their internet stuff incredibly boring, and before they were called to the table for dinner she managed to goad Casey into using Matthew’s Gameboy for a Pokemon match. From the shock and dismay Tabitha overheard, Casey was letting Hannah win, but thankfully the battle was interrupted by their meal before it could conclude in actual emnity.

Plates of chicken alfredo steamed from each of the positions at the table, and while everyone took their seats Tabitha also observed a basket of cornbread covered in a towel, a large serving dish of mashed potatoes, and also a tray of broccoli buttered with garlic butter. One single incongruent serving at one of the center seats was instead fresh for Hannah the picky eater, and although Mrs. Williams placed ketchup there beside it, Sandra swiped the plastic condiment bottle away with a roll of her eyes and set it off to the side and out of reach.

“Dear Heavenly Father—we thank you for the blessings of this food, and the good company we’re able to share it with today!” Mrs. Williams bowed her head in prayer. “Thank you for sending us a little angel like Hannah to brighten our lives, and for beautiful, outstanding young women like Casey and Tabitha. Thank you for my wonderful son Matthew, and then also thank you for giving Sandra so much patience and strength! In your name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” Tabitha joined in to murmur with the others before looking up.

Tabitha blinked, trying to focus on giving her food an appreciative look so as not to reveal her discomfort.

She was accustomed to her father saying grace only before major meals like Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, and he always kept things short and sweet; simple. Mr. Moore had always apparently been of the mind that speaking in a prayer was, if not blasphemous, then at least considered irreverent or disrespectful. Seeing that Karen Williams was instead perfectly comfortable with naming names or delivering grace like it was a benediction monologue felt very strange to her, but she also couldn’t really say that it was Just different, very different from what she was used to.

No one else commented on it, with everyone instead grabbing their forks and digging in.

Tabitha joined in, trying a little of the chicken alfredo first—it was very good—and then following Casey to scoop herself a serving each of garlic butter broccoli, and then mashed potatoes. This already felt like so Tabitha was going to use that as an excuse to opt out of the cornbread, because she had never liked the taste of cornmeal. While the main course chicken alfredo was certainly good, to her surprise the garlic butter broccoli stole the show! If she wasn’t filling up so fast, she would have immediately gone for another helping. The mashed potatoes were good but perhaps so much so that when Tabitha saw the porcelain gravy boat passed around, she declined with a small smile.

Tabitha thought.

It was hard not to contrast the rather decadent broccoli and potatoes here to the much more simple green beans and potatoes Tabitha had made for the get-together last night, and Tabitha wasn’t sure if she should feel proud, or if she should feel humbled. On the one hand, with Mrs. Williams’ cooking, flavor certainly won out—garlic butter broccoli in particular—but then on the other hand, Tabitha couldn’t even imagine serving such a rich diet like this regularly without them all immediately gaining a lot of weight.

“Hannah dear, how’s your mac and cheese?” Mrs. Williams asked. “I made it with extra cheese—I know you always liked it with more cheese! If you’re willing to try with tomato slices, I can—”

“Noooo~!” Hannah protested with a giggle. “No That’s a

“Tomatoes are a fruit, technically,” Tabitha remarked before taking another forkful of her chicken alfredo.

“They are?!” Hannah stared in disbelief.

“They are not,” Casey shook her head. “Tabitha’s just teasing you!”

“No, they actually are,” Matthew spoke up. “Tomatoes? They’re actually a fruit.”

Casey gave him a gasp of teasing dismay. “Don’t say that. How could you say that?!”

“Er, well tomatoes are a fruit—” Tabitha clarified. “But, most people consider them a vegetable, because of their flavor profile.”

“That’s so interesting!” Mrs. Williams praised. “I’ll have to look that up. Hannah, if tomatoes are a fruit instead of a veggie, do you think maybe—”

Hannah cried out with a laugh. “No way.”

“She means to say,” Sandra took a sip from her glass and then cleared her throat.

“No, thank you!” Hannah chirped out at the reminder. “No thank you. No tomatoes! Ever.”

“You know, ketchup is basically just tomatoes and sugar—” Mrs. Williams started to say.

“—No, thank you!” Sandra was exasperated this time. “Good Lord, the things you’re teaching her. It’s just not right!”

“It’s Tabitha brought up their joke from earlier with a solemn shake of her head. “Unconscionable.”

“Oh, it is not!” Mrs. Williams laughed. “Listen, I bet if both of you would try it, you’d like it. Matthew grew up with diced tomatoes in his macaroni and cheese, and he always loved it!”

“Matthew…” Casey gave her boyfriend a look of concern and reached across the table to place her hand upon his. “I’m so sorry.”

“You poor, unfortunate soul,” Mrs. Macintire chuckled.

“He always loved it!” Mrs. Williams insisted. “Matthew—tell them!”

“Uhhh,” Matthew cast a sheepish look down at his food. “No comment?”

“Now, this broccoli, though,” Mrs. Macintire said with a gesture of her fork. “Mm-mmhh! I’m not even normally a huge fan of broccoli, just—wow!”

“Well, Mrs. Williams said. “At least I’m good for something! Hah! Hannah, how about it, do you think you’d maybe try—”

“No broccoli—I mean, Hannah gave an adamant shake of her head while wrinkling her nose at the prospect. “Bleugh!”

“It’s actually really good!” Tabitha said. “I like it a lot. Do you want to try a little tiny bit of mine?”

Though she was only seven years old, Hannah sitting beside her managed to give Tabitha a wide-eyed look that was both extremely skeptical and even a little pitying. It was funny, because even amidst acting incredibly stubborn and childish, Hannah was still able to surprise her with the sheer depth of expression that seemed well beyond her years—so long as she was expressing things in a condescending manner. Maybe those expressions simply got a lot more practice? Tabitha found herself forced to wonder if Hannah picked that up more from Officer Macintire, or more from Sandra.

“Hannah, here,” Casey said, scooping out a very tiny sprout from the larger dish in the middle of the table. “You can’t even taste the broccoli! It all tastes like garlic.”

“Garlic?” Hannah pursed her lips.

“Like garlic bread, you like garlic bread,” Mrs. Macintire prompted. “Try just a little piece.”

“It tastes like garlic, and everyone loves garlic,” Casey insisted. “Here.”

“Ehhh—” Hannah couldn’t hide her grimace. “Uhh… I’ll try a little piece.”

The offered piece was delivered to the side of Hannah’s plate, after which the little girl then dissected the small broccoli floret even further with the edge of her fork until only a tiny thin sliver was there. Then, to the goading and encouragement of everyone at the table—and only after a long, grudging look of reluctance—did Hannah finally put the miniscule portion into her mouth. She made an exaggerated face of disgust and mortification as she mechanically worked her jaw to chew, and then dropped her fork to immediately reach for her glass of water with both hands to wash the flavor away.

Casey let out a long sigh.

“Wow, that bad, huh?” Sandra chuckled. “Good Lord.”

“Oh, it Mrs. Williams couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Hannah hon, how was it? It wasn’t that bad, right?”

“That was… tasting,” Hannah decided. “Garlic taste should just be on garlic bread. Not

“What about garlic wings?!” Casey argued. “Spicy garlic wings. Garlic chicken. with garlic and onion. Even mashed potatoes is best with garlic! Everything’s good with garlic. Uhh, except my breath afterwards.”

Matthew turned his face to the side to hide a of laughter that spilled out.

“Hear, hear!” Mrs. Williams nodded. “See, Hannah? All sorts of new things you can try.”

“Yuck,” Hannah shook her head in dismay. “No way. No way.”

Conversation fell into a small lull for a few long moments as everyone turned more of their attention to their food, and Tabitha found herself really enjoying this dinner get-together. There were perhaps some matches to be had yet this evening, and she’d been able to use their computer to finally set up a first email account in this lifetime. The earlier talk with Casey about the future… hadn’t gone quite as planned, but that was okay, too. It gave Tabitha a lot to think about, and she really felt like she was coming to terms with people not believing her. She had spoken up about things enough that later on when everyone encountered all sorts of evidence, that Tabitha wouldn’t feel as though she’d been keeping secrets or hiding things from everyone she was close with all this time.

“So,” Matthew spoke up, quickly wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I was real curious—what are you guys doing about that whole thing? At school.”

Tabitha accidentally dropped her fork with a clatter, and used her good hand to hide her face, utterly mortified.

“Towel thing?” Sandra asked. “What do you mean,

Tabitha found her cheeks burning all over again.

“Um…”

It was humiliating that today there was just so much drama swirling around her that she would have had to ask him and identify which he might even be referring to. Some naive part of her had hoped that putting herself to the forefront and making sure to be social and as possible and communicate with everyone at high school would mean that absurd gossip like the Michael thing was a thing of the past. After all, that one was just completely made up—and the events at that birthday get-together didn’t happen in some isolated vacuum, they happened at a movie theater and then skating rink where all of whom attended Springton High together, were present as witnesses. Casey and Matthew, Michael and Olivia, Alicia and Elena, Clarissa and Ashley and then Bobby.

Tabitha fumed.

“Well—” Tabitha tried to begin.

“Some girls at school, they took her towel from her,” Hannah explained. “Then, she had a big fight with them.”

“It-it Tabitha quickly clarified, feeling her anxiety rise up.

“Well—some cheerleader girls took my towel,” Tabitha explained with a wince. “Not like, from me directly, they pulled it down off of um, off from where it hangs up in the girls locker room. In the class after mine. There’s a clothesline sorta… thing there. Some girl, uh, saw that happening, and—this was in some other class period after when I have Personal Fitness—and this other girl apparently reported it to Coach Baylor. Then, Coach Baylor went through and tracked down the uh, the guilty parties, and got the towel back. The one Hannah and I picked out. Then, she took it home and washed it, just in case. Which was very thoughtful. And uh, she brought it in this morning and told me. So—so, all of the stealing, well uh happened yesterday, I guess.”

As it turns out, feeling rushed into providing an explanation under the expectant gazes of a table full of people here made Tabitha’s words come out in a babbling and near incoherent mess, and it was hard not to slump down in her seat and hide her face. Mrs. Williams’ plump features were stirring in growing outrage as she listened, Casey was looking on with interest, and Mrs. Macintire sat up straight as a rather cold look filled her eyes.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Mrs. Macintire finally said. “These girls are after you again? After everything? After—”

“Well they just need to be expelled!” Mrs. Williams huffed. “If this isn’t—”

“Espelled!” Hannah agreed, giving a decisive nod as she poked at her macaroni and cheese. “That’s what said.”

“Wow,” Casey blinked. “I hadn’t even heard part. I just heard about you fighting with cheerleaders in the quad at lunch.”

“She, she Mrs. Macintire demanded. “So, there a fight?!”

“No! We, we—we weren’t Tabitha grimaced. “Not like—it was just a confrontation. It was tense and um, and okay, but it wasn’t like a

“I heard it was ‘cause Tabitha was all of the sudden wearing a Casey added. “Like, that set them off. The one girl in my class was absolutely livid.”

“No, I uh—” Tabitha said. “What happened, was. I to grab my coat today, before school, so I just had on my one hoodie instead of two layers. So uh, so when Coach Baylor pulls me aside to give me back the towel and explain everything all that happened, she notices and uh. Offers to lend me a cheer jacket. like temporarily borrow, since well she just has this whole bunch of them there, sitting in a box. It’s the same as Casey having a box of art club shirts! It wasn’t—”

“No way, I would never just one out,” Casey gave a chuckle. “Are you kidding me? Those things are twenty bucks a pop!”

“It wasn’t like—wait a minute,” Tabitha’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been bumping the price up every time you mention them to me?”

“Oh she notices,” Matthew broke into laughter as Casey wore a triumphant grin. “She got the whole way up to thirty with Mark, ‘fore he realized and called her out on it. I mean c’mon,

“Matthew, Mrs. Williams waved a hand at him in exasperation. “So Tabitha, these cheerleader girls were cross at you because you were wearing one of their jackets, and took your towel? Or, this happened the other way around?”

“Um,” Tabitha said. “The other way around. I, I don’t really know they took my towel in the first place. It’s Who Or, who even made a big deal over it or told them it was mine—in first period there, quite a few of us put towels up already. Well, some of us did, at least. There were a bunch hanging there.”

“I still don’t understand,” Mrs. Macintire said. “So, first they try to take your things, then they come and pick a fight with you about it?”

“They said that they Tabitha sighed. “And so I was like, Rather than just And—I was, I don’t know, I woke up wrong and was just having a bad day, and I was being a little petty? If—”

Mrs. Williams was aghast. “They’re the ones in the wrong—they need to be suspended,

“All of this bullying needs to stop,” Mrs. Macintire agreed, crossing her arms. “Period.”

“It’s not all that big a deal, this time,” Tabitha said. “I need to—well, try being able to handle these things on my own. Since they’re apparently going to keep happening anyway. I’m trying to learn to be more social and outgoing.”

“Yeah, but—” Matthew gave her a pointed look as if to indicate he wasn’t going to bring up the thing but that it was pertinent to all of this.

“Yeah,” Casey caught on to his meaning right away and nodded. “If they’re all still also gonna be just about you and spreading them around—this all isn’t something you should try to brush off? Right?”

“What is it this time?” Mrs. Williams scowled. “Last time it was, what? Fooling around with a teacher? Or that Tabitha was after Matthew? That she was somehow all of the police in Springton about the whole thing and didn’t really help?! my husband was freaking the first responder there! He told me himself how Tabitha didn’t want to move her hands there, because she didn’t want to remove pressure and risk him bleeding out! She’s an

Hannah looked baffled by all of these things, while Mrs. Macintire seemed to be gritting her teeth. The woman made a show of uncrossing her arms and returning to her meal so as not to seem too bothered, but instead her knuckles went white as her fingers tightened around her silverware. Tabitha quickly looked away, feeling guilty and touched and out of sorts all at once.

“Yeah, back then all the stuff going around was crazy,” Matthew said. “There were people saying she was uh, sleeping around with everyone, I heard some of the sophomore girls say Tabitha was talking bad about Chris Thompson and that she brought all that on herself.”

“Well, yeah all that and that I got liposuction,” Tabitha forced a smile. “That I’m trailer trash from the trailer park, that I was and used to be real fat. Those ones are true, at least?

“It’s unbelievable!” Mrs. Williams couldn’t help but vent her anger by slapping a hand against the table. “Why is it there’s all this going around about Tabitha, and only Tabitha?! This is ridiculous!”

“No, it’s not just me!” Tabitha said. “Elena has been getting it bad, too. Because of her—her change in style. Which shouldn’t even be any kind of big deal, it’s not like her choosing to dress a little differently is hurting anyone! Makes me so mad. She stood up for me today.”

Tabitha remembered.

“It’s ‘cause word is that Elena’s gonna try out for cheer,” Casey explained with a heavy sigh. “Which would have been just fine a few months back, when she was blonde and bubbly and with the But, now that she’s gothic and at odds with the preppies?

“I think that’s what most of this is about,” Matthew nodded his head in support. “It’s uh, it’s less like it was before, and now it’s more that the cheerleader girls are super fussy ‘bout Elena and Tabitha maybe moving in on their turf, or whatever.”

“It’s ridiculous!” Mrs. Williams remained aghast. “Absolutely ridiculous that they’re being like that. I mean, was a cheerleader, we were always so nice and welcoming back then! To everyone! We even— I was a lot skinnier back when I was in high school!

“It’s all just… overblown and dramatic and senseless,” Tabitha sighed. “I want it to be over with. I should have been more mature today and not quibbled with them, just. I was being petty, I had a bad day. Now I have to live with the consequences of that, or maybe apologize, or… I don’t even know.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize to them for,” Mrs. Macintire said in a somber tone. “At all. I think as your guardian, I should at least be in touch with whoever there at school’s doing something about this—you said this was one of the coaches?”

“Coach Baylor,” Tabitha confirmed. “She’s on top of everything, though. She’s very nice.”

“Eh,” Casey gave them a slight scowl. “She’s in charge of the cheerleaders, though. Those are like,

“She’s been extremely professional,” Tabitha said. “She hasn’t taken their side at all. In fact, until everything between us is resolved, Coach Baylor said those girls won’t be participating in cheer stuff.”

Mrs. Williams harumphed. “Hopefully at least written up, too. If not suspended.”

“Espelled,” Hannah joined in.

pelled,” Tabitha finally corrected with a soft smile.

“That’s what I said,” Hannah frowned. “Expelled.”

“What think, is that Tabitha and Elena both should just— of all the stupid phoney cheerleady stuff,” Casey grumbled. “I mean. Just say the word, Tabitha. For twenty-five bucks, we’ll get you an art-club shirt and get you on side. I actually brought one if you’re interested, it’s out in the Jimmy”