Cheap


This week’s word on Trifecta was

cheap adj \ˈchēp\

1 a : purchasable below the going price or the real value

b : charging or obtainable at a low price <a good cheaphotel> <cheap tickets>

c : depreciated in value (as by currency inflation) <cheapdollars>
2 : gained or done with little effort <a cheap victory> <talk ischeap>
3 a : of inferior quality or worth : tawdry, sleazy <cheapworkmanship>

b : contemptible because of lack of any fine, lofty, or redeeming qualities <feeling cheap>

I’m picking right back up after A Mask in the Necessary storyline.  To read the rest in order, click on the Fiction link at the top of the page.  I really want to go back to magical things happening, but that story didn’t seem quite done enough.  Plus, as one commenter (my sister, for those keeping track) mentioned, the ‘bad guy’ doesn’t just appear that way… how did they get to be the bad guy?  Not to mention, is he really bad?

A few questions – does this seem at all realistic for a high school scene?  Characters/events/etc?  I’ll be honest – I drifted, oblivious, through highschool with very few interactions with the ‘mean girls’, and, unfortunately, in those few interactions, it wasn’t me they went after, because they go after the one least able to defend herself.  Like hyenas.  Moving on.  What kind of vibe are you getting from new-character-Katie?

Link up or read some of the other responses over at Trifecta.

The picture below is titled “Defeated Dragon”, hopefully it works with the story as well as it did for me.  Check out more of Daniel Dociu’s work by clicking on the image.

It wasn’t worth it.

She told them I was just a spiteful wannabe, lying to hurt her.  Her coterie of hangers-on flocked to comfort her – so hard to be so beautiful, so popular.  Lesser beings use their cheap, nasty words to hurt you.  So hard to be Jennifer.

I cringed at the whispers and glares.  I slunk, eyes glued to my cafeteria tray, towards the already seated Joanna. 

I stumbled.  I looked around in surprise, having barely prevented myself from face-planting in my food.  A football jock met my stare blandly, pulling his foot casually back under the table.

I slammed my tray down and slumped over in my seat.  “We should have gone there for lunch.”

Tears prickled behind my eyes.

She smiled sympathetically and waved a carrot stick at me.  “It’s tough, but she only wins if you run and hide.”

“Woops!”

I gasped as the mess of creamed corn and mashed potato dripped down the back of my neck and soaked into my shirt.  The girl behind me, I recognised as one of Jennifer’s posse who had avoided eye-contact with her during the fight.  Her empty tray hung limp in her fingers, and, though she had a pleased smirk plastered over her face, I couldn’t help but notice the unhappiness in her eyes.

“You-“ my voice broke.  I give up.  She backed up in alarm when I stood up.

Joanna swung around the table and stood toe to toe with the girl.  “Did this get you back into her Royal Highness’s good graces, Katie?” she snarled.  She thrust her chin forward like a fist, causing the girl to stumble back a step.  She lowered her voice.  “If your brother could see you now.”

Katie jerked back as though she’d been slapped, her face crumpling. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing the tears back.  “Joanna, stop.”

“Why?”

“She’s winning anyways.  Don’t sink to her level.”

“Fine.”

I left, blurry eyed.

I didn’t see Katie leave in the same state.

A Mask

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood
Yesterday didn’t work out so well for me in prompt-land.  I failed a bit at the timing of it all, which is unfortunate, but it got me to write anyways, which is always a plus.  This week on Write on Edge’s Red Writing Hood challenge, the prompt was to use an antagonist.  So I’m introducing a character, one who must definitely have been encountered before, but who hasn’t been mentioned before in any of the pieces of the story I’ve written before.  She must have existed in this story, though – she’s in every high school.

In the name of clarifying storylines, I’ve got a new tab up top for stories.  If you’re just starting to read this (or just very confused at the pieces you’ve read so far), that tab is the ideal location in which to find all the pieces of this story in order of how they ought to be read, as opposed to the order in which I wrote them.  This prompt response is in the “The Necessary” storyline, right after “So Blue“.

Head over to Write on Edge to submit your own responses, and to read the other ones.  Click on the image below to see more from the artist who did it.

I felt an immense sense of relief at being on speaking terms again.  We linked arms and headed towards second period, having missed the entire first with catching up and apologies and waiting for my face to stop being splotchy and terrible from crying.

I peered in through the door at the class still in session and joined Joanna on the floor nearby.

How sweet, the Lezbos have kissed and made up.”

God, I hate her.

Jessica smirked down at us, one hip jutted forward in her designer jeans, perfectly manicured fingers hooked in the belt loops.  Her cronies did their best to match her pose, smug in their safety behind the firing line.

Joanna, as always, remained serene.  “Sorry, Jess, I know you were hoping to be my rebound.”

I was proud of Joanna and jealous at the same time.  I wish I was as confident.

“Whatevs, freak.”  She dismissed Joanna with a roll of her eyes and cocked her head at me.  “Trying red, yonkers?”  She casually pushed a strand of her own deep auburn hair behind her ear.  “I’d suggest that you try something less… fire engine… but I really don’t think any hair colour will help to make you look like anything more than a hayseed.  Imitation is the highest form of flattery, though, so, thanks, I guess.”

I blushed, my hand going up as though to cover the bright colour.

Jessica snorted derisively and exchanged a satisfied look with her entourage.

She’s such a bully.  I wished desperately that I could call her on it.

I thought back to the tree woman, her confidence a force of nature, her personality bludgeoning even Joanna into submission.  Vibrant and warlike, her entire tree fighting to protect a single leaf.  And I stood up.

“Hey, Jess – your roots are showing.  I would give you my hairdresser’s name, but she doesn’t deal with homophobes.”

It was her turn to redden, but hers was anger.  She snarled, perfect white teeth clenched, “I do not dye my hair.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes and smirk.  Inside I quaked.  I hoped desperately to cling to this fragile mask long enough to get out of Jessica’s way.

“Interesting, you think your big dye secret is the important one to protect.  You try to make me feel bad for being myself and for expressing myself, and you call me gay like it’s a bad thing.”  I stepped forward, she retreated.  “Considering how many people go to this school, I’m betting at least a few are gay.  I’m tired of hearing your nastiness, and I’m sure they are, too.”

Her minions avoided eye contact with her as she scanned the crowd for a teammate.

“Alright, let’s break up this social circle and get to learning.”

The spell was broken, Mr. Sherbrooke at the door of his room, gesturing us in.

I could feel the strength draining out of me, my hands shaking at my sides.  Jessica’s hate-filled glare singeing my back.

Was it worth it?

How Dull

The word for Trifecta this week is:

vulgar (adj) \ˈvəl-gər\

1: generally used, applied, or accepted

2: vernacular <the vulgar name of a plant>

3 a : of or relating to the common people : plebeian

b : generally current : public <the vulgar opinion of that time>

c : of the usual, typical, or ordinary kind

The prompt gives you between 33 and 333 words.  Check out the other links or post your own HERE.

My story is a continuation of the Necessary story, and it takes place the same day as the first time the girls go to the other dimension together.  In order of reading, for those of you new/interested, it would be:

The Necessary

This story

Lazy Afternoons (somewhere in the middle there)

Enough

Though apart from ‘The Necessary’ and this prompt response, they aren’t really connected together yet.

A question for you all.  If I were to turn this into a YA type book – first person or third person?  The only reason I started it in the first person was to challenge myself (apart from talkingaboutmyself, I mainly write in the third person) with something different.  And ‘lazy afternoons’ was done in the third person, just to see how it would go.  I’m not sure which version of things I prefer, so I leave it to a vote!

I saw the world through new eyes.  There was no comparison, of course.  Everything here was so vulgar and dull with the memory of there so fresh in my mind.  It was like I had lived my entire life in black and white, only to discover, Dorothy-like, a Technicolor dreamland.  It was intoxicating.

I could barely sit through the rest of my classes, film-reels of memory projected over everything.  The chef was red.  Like a fire engine, an all-over solid red with stubby sawn-off horns protruding from his forehead.  He looked like a demon, but his handlebar moustache had twitched with his smile, as, in a deep southern drawl, he asked me if I preferred white or dark meat.  A bright red demonic chef called me darlin’.

The final bell rang and I ran to my locker, too wrapped up in my thoughts to hear the snickers when I had to try my combination twice before I got the door open. I grabbed what I needed, brushing past the gaggle of popular girls, completely indifferent to their mocking laughter.

Joanna was balanced precariously on the railing at the top of the school steps when I emerged.  She grinned and hopped down when she saw me, falling into step with her arm linked in mine.

My smile widened in relief – she hadn’t changed her mind.

“So?”

“HOLY cow, I can’t even – I mean –“ I stumbled over my words.  “That was amazing.”

Joanna laughed, head back and mouth wide, throwing herself into the emotion.

“We are going to have so much FUN” she cried gleefully.  “I can’t wait to show you more!”

“Tomorrow?”

Joanna cut her eyes towards me, grinned, and said, “Tuesdays are meatloaf day in the caf here – I bet we could find a mean slice of pizza there, though.”

That night, I dreamed of Alice in Wonderland.  Why, I asked her, would you ever leave?