Chapter Text
ooh, she's got her head in the clouds. she's kissing danny rucker while i stare at the ground!
like ooh, i wanna look in her eyes, but every time i do, i think i might wanna die.
“Lanes!” their captain Jayce yells, hands on his hips.
Vi looks up from where she’s sat on the bleacher, absolutely not paying attention to anything he’s saying. Instead, she is gazing pathetically at the cheerleaders across the field.
“Hey, Vi,” Mylo tries, throwing a ball at her face, “Stop being gay and play soccer.”
She could catch it, but instead she blinks longingly at the girls in short skirts and lets it slam against her face. Vi falls off the bench and into the wet grass. Eurgh.
She gets up and grudgingly does dribbles. Then she’s sent for a lap around the pitch when she starts making rude signs at Mylo – who was absolutely reciprocating but managed to pass scot-free under Jayce’s nose. Vi doesn’t mind. She loves running. And this way, she can get closer to the girls. One girl in particular. Caitlyn.
She lets the wind whip in her hair as she sets a steady pace around the field. Vi underestimates her confidence because as soon as she’s within talking distance of the cheerleaders, her heart rate goes right up. She can feel it thumping in her throat. Her face grows hot and her mouth parts as she looks dumbly at the girls doing stretches. A couple give her weird looks but she’s so dumbfounded that she doesn’t even react until Caitlyn turns around. Her hair is up in that messy ponytail. God. She’s so cute.
What is Vi doing? She can’t just run at snails pace and watch them like a perv! She musters a cocky grin and sprints ahead to show off her impeccable speed.
Vi also underestimates the muddiness of the soil after rainfall because she immediately falls on her ass. She yells out as her feet go flying and brown splatters all over her shirt. She spits, looking dejectedly at the ground. Her face reddens. She doesn’t want to see what the cheerleaders are thinking of her. She especially doesn’t want to see Caitlyn’s reaction – which she knows will be scathing because that girl absolutely hates Vi’s goofiness. Pft. Her loss.
Her heart contracts. It’s not really. It’s totally Vi’s loss.
She picks herself up and trudges back to her team covered in mud. Jayce sighs, sending Claggor to get her a towel. Vi wipes herself down and goes back to staring longingly at the girls. If Vi wasn’t such a loser, maybe she could actually have a chance. She’s never seen Caitlyn with a boy before. But then again, that prissy boy-crazy friend group of hers is evidence enough.
She gets up and they have a practice game. Afterwards, as they’re all chugging water down, Mylo pats her back.
“Never gonna happen in a million years,” he says.
She scowls, shoving his arm away.
“He’s right,” Jayce says, “Sorry Vi. Our families are close and she’s never shown interest in girls.”
Vi gets a thick feeling in her chest. She wishes it wasn’t like this. She wishes that she was a boy so that girls would at least look at her. She kicks the dirt, feeling very sorry for herself.
౨ৎ
Caitlyn sits in the janitor’s closet, staring at her shoes. She takes shallow breaths, trying to remember what her mum taught her back in primary school about panic attacks. She has always been an anxious girl, but lately it’s been acting up more. She pushes hair back from her face and tries erratically to lift her jumper over her head. She sits down on the floor, blinking in the dark. She draws her legs up and wraps her arms around them.
It isn’t fair. Every single one of her friends have managed to bag cute dates to the school dance. Caitlyn feels stupid next to them, still hopelessly single and uninterested in every boy. They’re all so stupid. And none of them are gorgeous enough to make up for it.
It’s not as if boys haven’t tried to ask her out. Caitlyn has had countless encounters. She just manages to scare them off every time. She recalls Jake, who had sauntered up to her flirtily after a swimming lesson. She ran into the changing rooms, locking herself up even though boys weren’t allowed in. She recalls Sam, whose face was a little too pink one afternoon in maths. The second he had opened his mouth, Caitlyn threw her pencil case at the teacher – but that one was less of a disaster because Vi got blamed for the crime. The furthest she has ever gotten with a boy was with Danny. He was on her couch with his lips approaching fast. She remembers getting the ick, watching his fluttering eyes, and pushing him off. There were many more such instances where Caitlyn had run away. Now, they are all too scared to try.
She doesn’t know why she’s so afraid of relationships. She also doesn’t understand the appeal of them at all. All that kissing and commitment for a boy who barely has his head attached to his body. She shivers just thinking about it. But Caitlyn still wishes she had a date for the dance. She doesn’t want to be alone. Somehow that is scarier than kissing any boy.
She takes shallow breathes again, trying to fight the feeling to cry inside her. Just as she is regaining her balance, light invades the room and someone crashes into her. She covers her head, squealing as the body crushes hers. The door slams shut and the moron creases over with laughter.
“Excuse me!” she mumbles underneath them. The person jumps off, spooked.
“Holy shit!” they yell, “I thought you were a pile of clothes. Don’t scare me like that!”
Caitlyn blinks at them and her eyes adjust to their features.
Ugh. Vi. She’s even stupider than any boy.
“Caitlyn,” she says, frowning, “What’re you doing in a closet?”
“None of your business,” she says, drawing her legs closer and sticking her tongue out.
Vi inspects her with a quizzical look.
“And why is your hair all messy? And your shirt all creased? Why does it look a like a bird attacked you?”
Caitlyn pinks, remembering how she practically fought her way out of that school jumper.
“Like you can talk!” she retorts, pushing Vi further away.
That girl is always looking scruffy. Always messing her hair up and scraping her knees. In fact, right now she has her shirt untucked and the sleeves rolled to her elbows. And that choppy boy-cut isn’t doing her any favours.
“Just unlike you,” she says.
“Why are you in here?” Caitlyn says bitterly, looking away.
You’re interrupting my breakdown.
Vi sits down properly now, with her legs crossed. Ugh. That was not an invitation to chat.
“Ekko was chasing me,” she says, “Had to take cover.”
“You were running from a little boy?”
“He’s not little!” she says, “A ripe 12 years old. And fast, might I add.”
Caitlyn huffs, putting her chin on her knees. Maybe she can spiral even with Vi here. She’ll just have to do an expert job of ignoring her. Which is a difficult feat – that girl is loud and insufferable. Vi blinks, watching her.
“Caitlyn,” she repeats, “Is something wrong?”
Her skin prickles. And damn her, because now her eyes are wet. She wipes a hand across them and childishly pouts. Vi has no business asking about her life. It catches her off guard though – ever-silly Vi Lanes actually caring about her wellbeing?
“ No,” she says stubbornly. Vi leans forward, tapping her shoulder.
“I don’t mind if you want to talk about it,” she says, “My sister has anxiety too.”
And this pierces Caitlyn right through the heart. She hunches over, resenting Vi. Nobody is supposed to know how anxious she is. Caitlyn has a lot of friends and she is well aware of how they would judge her if she revealed just how shy and afraid she used to be. She hates Vi – this random girl – for seeing through her facade. This wasn’t part of the plan.
But still, a nagging part of her can’t help asking. She shifts so that they’re facing each other in the dark.
“How did you know?”
Vi smiles slightly.
“Noticed the same things as my sister,” she says, “Little habits.”
Caitlyn blinks at her, studying her face. Her cheeks are a nice rosy colour. Vi is really pretty, actually. She has these beautiful grey eyes that get all glassy in the sun. She has freckles too, which get darker in the summer, and soft lips. She likes that Vi isn’t afraid to wear boyish clothes either. On non-uniform days, Caitlyn recalls her wearing jorts and a big t-shirt that was distinctly unfeminine. If she was less annoying, she might be a cool friend.
“All my other friends…” she says, suddenly nervous. She stares at her hands and swallows. “All of my friends have dates to the dance.”
Vi cocks her head.
“That matters to you? I don’t have a date either!”
And Caitlyn doesn’t say what she’s thinking. Well, you’re not me. Everybody expects me to have someone.
“My friends are gonna think I’m a loser,” she says, stretching her legs out, “Which I am. ‘Cause I can’t even get a boy to like me.”
“No boy’s ever come near to me, if that’s any consolation. Of course, that’s because I hit them with a kung fu pose to ward them off,” she says, cracking a stupid smile and slamming her hand out with a little Hya!
“Not consoled,” she mutters. Vi’s shoulders droop.
Caitlyn would feel bad about killing the mood, but she was the one who decided to bombard her breakdown session. It’s her fault, really.
She lets the awkward air sit between them until finally Vi gets the courage to say something.
“Well,” she says slowly, stuttering over her words, “I could–”
Huh? If there’s one thing that Vi is a pro at, it’s being confident. Caitlyn has never seen her nervous in all the years that they’ve known each other. She squints at her through the dark, waiting for Vi to form a coherent sentence.
“I mean. I could be your boy,” she says.
Caitlyn snorts, kicking her with her shoe lightly.
“You’re not a boy, Sherlock.”
“What if you didn’t need one?” Vi says, leaning forward.
Her cheeks have gone red and her skin all clammy. Caitlyn’s breath gets heavier. She stares at Vi’s silver moon eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“You need a date, right?”
Caitlyn nods, heart beating fast. She looks at Vi’s arms, which have doodles riding up them. What a dork.
“Yeah.”
“I can do all the things a boy does,” she says, blinking at Caitlyn with wide eyes.
Her heart does a weird little turn.
“I don’t know…”
“I can!” she insists, a little angrily, “I’m strong. I always help to carry things in class. Most of those idiots can’t even lift a pencil. And I know all the right manners. My dad, Vander, told me all of it. Y’know– opening doors, ladies going first, walking closest to the road!”
Caitlyn giggles at Vi’s outburst, instinctively reaching her hand out to brush the girl’s arm.
“I believe you!” she says, “I guess you wouldn’t be the worst date…”
She doesn’t say my friends will probably still make fun of me for going out with such a goober, because Caitlyn doesn’t care. No matter how goofy Vi is, she’s still kind and sweet and… handsome. A lot better than Sam or Danny or Jake. And god knows, she might actually have fun.
“Really?” Vi says, stupid grin on her face.
Caitlyn stupidly wants to kiss it off.