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Chapter Text

"It doesn't fit."

Her mother pursed her thin, cheap lipstick-covered mouth as Dana poked her head out of the dressing room curtain at Mark's and Spencer's. Her bony legs were crossed and she sat perched on the edge of a small bench outside.

Well," Mrs. Howell drew in a breath before continuing."Are you sure you got the right size?" Dana was tempted to scream as she unzipped the blue 'bodycon', as her mum had called it. The dress stuck to Dana's pale skin and made her b-cup breasts look like D's. She'd tried on a 'maxi dress', 'skater skirt', 'swing dress', and something called a keyhole, all in the one hour they'd been at the department store. She hated shopping. And dresses. And breasts.

After she was done undressing and redressing,Dana stepped out into the harsh fluorescent light of M&S's dressing rooms, which caused her to stumble and almost knock down a startled looking saleswoman, who was about 2 feet shorter than her. Then again, being 6 foot 1 and still growing, most people were.

"What about this one?" The dress her mum held was bright purple, with spaghetti straps and a full skirt. She imagined it would make her look rather like a walking grape. Or a prostitute. She said so to her mum, who gave her a stern look.

"Dana, please." Her wildly exasperated mother swerved with ease through crowds of shoppers, hips swishing and heels clacking. It was a mystery how she walked around all day in those death traps, not to mention how she didn't complain once about the dress she was wearing, a tight little thing that looked like it could cut off all your blood circulation. People always said how different her and her mum looked, Dana in her loose jeans and sweatshirts, and her mum caked in pounds of makeup and form-fitting tops.

As they made their way toward the exit, her mother dropped back to walk beside her.

"Are you sure you don't want to try Selfridges? I have a gift card and-" Dana shook her brunette head and tucked her choppy bangs behind her ear. Her stomach churned at the thought of trying on another dress. "Let's just go home."

****

"Am I more than you bargain for yet? I'm dying to tell anything you wanna hear...."

Dana winced as she slapped her alarm clock and felt the metal dig into her palms. She wrapped the black quilt back around her body and stared at the posters on her ceiling. Dana's eyes begged to close again, but then they saw the date on the calendar. "Fuck," she mumbled groggily. It was March 12. A Monday. 

She trudged out of bed, and got dressed in front of the long mirror that was hung in her small room in Manchester. Dana's Muse t-shirt clung to her less-than-fit body and breasts poked out visibly from the front. Her heart sunk, and Dana pulled on a sports bra underneath the faded blue shirt. It made her feel a little better. Still, they were there. 

Shoulder-length dark brown hair lung limply in front of her face, and for what felt like the millionth time, Dana yearned to cut it off. She did what she could to dismiss the thought and pulled on her usual jeans and hoodie, used a bit of concealer on the spot she had on her nose, and yank on her dirty red Vans.

"DANA,THE BUS IS HERE!," her mom shouted, except she stretched it out, so it sounded more like:' DAYNAHHHHHHHH, THE BUS IS HEEEEEEEERE." She thudded down the carpeted stairs into the kitchen where her backpack lay before she threw it over her shoulder and onto her back, which almost buckled under the weight of textbooks inside. Coffee and a pet to the dog, then Dana was on her way. She was crossing to the bus stop when an ambulance drove past and came so close to her face she could feel the breeze it created.

"COULDN'T YOU GET MURDERED ON ANOTHER BLOODY STREET?" Dana shouted after the speeding car, which was almost out of her vision by then. It was useless yelling, but it helped to let a bit of the frustration she always woke up always woke up with out. She finally reached the bus, ducking under the doorway and avoiding a nasty glance from Paul the driver, who despised having to wait at stops for late high schoolers. Especially seniors like her.

Dana walked directly to the back of the bus, knowing there will always be a seat for her back there. She was one of the first pick-ups, so she didn't have to deal with no one wanting to sit with her or having to stand the whole ride like the poor freshman. Today she chose a seat two from the very last. Dana sat down on the flaky black cushion as the bus began to rumble away toward the next stop, and put her crap-ass sack of a bookbag beside her, and crammed headphones into her ears.

"We're going down, down in an earlier round..."

Chapter Text

Dana's morning went by uneventfully. Bio, French, calculus, and her world history classes seemed to drone on for hours, but unlike the other 20 or so 11th and 12th years in Mrs. Dillon's room, the last thing she wanted to do was for the bell to ring . Dana was tapping her freshly bitten nails on the desk, debating hiding in the girl's bathroom again to avoid lunch altogether, when a single note rang out and the previously silent class was churned into a flurry of commotion, the sound of textbooks slamming shut and bookbag zippers drowning out any last minute announcement made by the teacher.

Dana stood up and trudged to her locker, dumping books on the metal shelves defeatedly. The sides and inner door of the locker were lined with posters of bands, photobooth strips, and a mirror which she always avoided looking at. She slammed it shut, sighed, and joined the crowd walking to the cafeteria.
It's not that Dana didn't have any friends, she did have a few, but none of them went to the high school she did. Pj, Chris and Louise all went to a fancy prep school across town. They even took the bloody underground to it everyday! So yet again, Dana was left alone at a shitty plastic excuse for a lunch table, as she had since secondary school.

Dana was in line for a smoothie when she heard two 9th years behind her whispering about a new kid who'd been transferred that week. It was only early October, so for any other school it would have been totally normal for a new student to be enrolled. But here, a little high school with less than 200 kids in the entire campus, it was big news. Everyone had basically been with the same people for years. Dana was so wrapped up in eavsedropping that she didn't notice her drink was ready, and grabbed it before she could embarrass herself anymore. She walked back to her table, a gazillion thoughts fighting for space in her mind. Would the new kid be a girl or boy? Would they join in on tormenting Dana and the other less popular kids, or would they be tormented themselves? What was she going to do about getting a dress for the dance next month her mum was making her go to?

She pondered these for a while, sipping the blissful strawberry banana drink. It reminded her of when her mum and dad took her to Africa, and they went to a banana farm. It was before she grew and started to look like a giraffe, so her dad had to put Dana on his shoulder to pick them.
She was about to get up to toss her empty cup in the bin when someone tapped on her shoulder, causing Dana's heart to sink a little. It was a little early in the week for another "make Dana want to kill herself even more in front of the whole school" session, wasn't it? Regardless, she slowly turned around, trying not smack into the person behind her.

She failed. "Ow!" Dana felt her head collide with that of a shorter boy, as he tried to walk around her. A few stray giggles rang out through the cafeteria as Dana rubbed her head and tried apologize. But when she looked up, he was gone.

Chapter Text

After the final bell rang, Dana quietly packed up all her books from her biology lesson, carried them across the hall and put them away. The sound of slamming metal echoed through the school as everyone shouted to each other and packed up to go home. There was one locker to her left, where a freshman named Nora stood on her tippy toes, pushing her torn-up algebra textbook as far as it could go on to the top shelf. The locker to Dana's right, however, was empty, after the jock who used it last year got busted for keeping some drugs in there.Dana swore she could still smell them sometimes as she walked by.

A brisk October breeze hit Dana as she opened the school door's to leave, holding the glass door for three other seniors, who, by the way, didn't even say bother to say 'thank you'. She let the door drop, and walked with them to the bus which was waiting at the corner.

The ride was not so peaceful going home.

Dana tried to drown out the noise with her headphones, but Fall Out Boy and Evanescence can only do so much. She put her backpack down beside her, and pulled her feet up to the seat. The bus driver howled in anger as kids ran up and down the aisles, paper airplanes soaring, and pencils hitting against the metal walls as they bumped along the uneven roads. She hadn't been able to get her regular spot in the very back of the bus, so Dana was sitting a little more than halfway from the front. She was about to change the song on her iPod, (Misery Business was so overplayed) when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

It wasn't anyone she knew, or had seen around before, so he must have been the new kid. Dana pulled out her headphones as she turned around.He had dark hair swept off the the left, and was smiling so bright Dana was tempted to shield her eyes, or even smile herself. He was knelt on the bus seat in front of her, looking down. She was so wrapped up in trying to remember if she'd heard what his name was, that she didn't realize he'd been talking. Great first impression.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Dana had to yell a bit to be heard.
He leaned over the seat even more. "I was telling you I loved your shirt," He had a northern accent, and apparently, good music taste. Dana looked down at her Muse t-shirt. Now she did smile.
"Thanks." She looked out the window. They were almost to her house. Most of the noise makers had gotten off, and they could stop yelling. She was about to put her earbuds back in when the new kid started talking again.
"Wait!" She turned her back head around to see he was still leaned over the seat, knuckles curled around the flaky black material. "My name's Phillip. But you can call me Phil. What's yours?"
Dana couldn't remember the last time someone asked about her name.
"Dana."

Chapter Text

Dana stepped through the threshold of her house, dropping her bookbag(even heavier than it was this morning) on to the hardwood floors of the foyer. She could hear cartoons -Pokémon, maybe - echoing from the den, so her brother must have gotten home before she had. He was only 14, and went to the secondary school a few blocks away.

Dana yelled for her mother, which resulted in no answer. She yelled for her brother, who told her to piss off. Dana then yelled for her mother again, who came down the stairs a few moments later, high heels hitting each step with a sharp clack. "Is something wrong, Dana?"

Why did she call her mother down? Was something wrong? Now her mum was looking impatient, as if Dana was the world's biggest inconvienence. Which wasn't necessarily a lie, probably. Dana panicked and lied.

"I uh," She struggled to gather her thoughts. "I met someone today."
Not her best moment. Mrs. Howell raised a single perfectly shaped eyebrow, and looked at Dana expectantly. "And?"
They began to walk into the kitchen, which went through the living room. John was sat on the sleek leather sofa, staring intently at the tv as the Pokémon theme played, confirming Dana's suspicion. She turned her attention back to her mum as the reached the cramped kitchen at the back of the house.
"He's new," She looked around the room for something else to say. "His name's Phil."
This got Mrs. Howell's attention. She turned around from where she was looking into the cupboard for supplies for supper.

"You met a boy? Is he cute?" Her mother looked more interested in this than the time when Dana told her she'd been in the top of her class last year. Knowing her mum, Dana thought, she probably was.

"I don't know," Lies.
"Oh come on ," She pressed, grabbing eggs from the refrigerator. "what did he look like?"
"Don't really remember," More lies. How could she forget?

Dana's mother asked a few more persistent questions, which Dana deflected as she regretted more and more about telling her anything. She trudged up the carpeted, curving stairs to her room, and shut the door. A poster of Buffy fluttered on the back, and the she heard her brother shouting from downstairs not to slam. Dana flopped down on her bed, not even bothering to take off her shoes, and stared at the ceiling. It was littered with more posters, and so were the walls. Originally light pink, Dana's parents refused to repaint it. She'd ask every birthday for blue, black or green walls, only to be told those weren't girl colors, or than she'd regret it. So Dana bought posters. Band posters, movie posters, book release posters. She even strung up a few school projects, to cover up empty spots. It made her feel a little better, to get rid of her pink walls. But something always felt off.

Chapter Text

It was quite a while before Dana saw Phillip - Phil, as he preferred to be called - at school. She didn’t have any classes with him, and he studied in the library during the lunch period, catching up on schoolwork. So Dana sat alone for the next week or two on the bus, in the cafeteria, and just about everywhere else. That changed in late February, in biology class.

“As you studied in your homework,” Mr. Braynt was only halfway through his lesson, and Dana was already falling asleep. She kept having to sweep fringe out of her face, fighting to keep her heavy eyelids open. “nerves conduct electrical signals to allow for rapid communication between specific sites. Hormones move through body flui-” He was cut off mid-boring-pointless-lecture when there was a series of soft knocks on the mahogany door in the right corner of the room. The entire class ceased pretending to listen, and trained their eyes on it. Dana raised her head off of the smooth black lab table, only to see Phil at the door, looking like a lost puppy. He was at least a foot taller than the bald, decaying Mr. Braynt, and it was rather funny seeing them converse quietly, Phil leaning down to hear what the professor said. The class sat bored, throwing lazy paper airplanes and whispering as the two talked. After a few minutes, Mr. Braynt reached up to grab Phil’s arm, dragging him to the front of the small room.
“Class, I’m sure many of you know Phillip,” Phil looked like he would rather be anywhere else in that moment, eyes wide and knees shaking. “he’s moved from Lancashire, and will be joining us for the rest of the year. Let’s all do our best to make him feel welcome, yes?” Phil was getting redder by the second. “Now, let’s see. There’s an empty seat in the back, next to Dana. Why don’t you get set up?” He nodded, and began to walk towards her. The rest of the class went back to whatever it was they had been doing before Phil arrived.
Dana suddenly felt very awake.
Phil plunked his bookbag beside the table, and sat down on the stool to Dana’s right, pulling out his textbooks. He gave her the same heartwarming smile as he did on the bus, and she smiled back, just a little.
She could get used to this.
******
Dana was back at M&S, in the same dressing room, with the same disgust and uncomfort as before. Her mother had insisted they buy a dress for Turnabout today, no exceptions. Dana stared at the person in the mirror, who was clad in a plain navy blue dress, with short sleeves and just above the knee skirt.
Her whole life, Dana felt like she was playing dress up all the time, like it was halloween all year round. Even when she wore hoodies and jeans, she still felt costumed. Imagine how she felt now, more dressed up she had ever cared to be. The next thing she knew, she was sat on the white dressing room bench, head in her hands, crying silently. Her whole body shook with disgust and dread. Why couldn't she like high heels, and makeup, and dresses that stuck to your skin? Why did everytime she woke up each morning, she felt like fucking killing herself? It wasn't one of those things you could ask your mum, either. Dana's mum wouldn't know depressison if it bit her in the ass. Jillian Howell was delirious, never acknologing the facts of life, including her husband's absence, John's failure in school, and Dana's depression. Dana didn’t know why she was even going to the dance. She had no one to ask, and to hell if anyone thought she was wearing this horror in front of anybody. She fought more tears back as she knocked on the dressing room door.
“Have you picked one?” Her mother chirped.
“Yeah, I’ve got one.”

Chapter Text

Turnabout was a yearly event at Township Central High School, much like like prom, or homecoming. The only difference was that, at these particular dances, the girls ask the boys. It's not as big a deal, but it's still exciting to most students. Last year, Dana and her old friends Louise and Zoe went as a group and had a rather fun time, actually. That was before Louise moved to a school across town, and Zoe had graduated. They'd gone to Zoe's mum's flat beforehand, and watched The IT Crowd reruns on the decaying sofa. Then they all walked the two blocks to the gymnasium and watched as pubescent high schoolers attempted to dance to the Top 40, and tried to guess who was the one who dumped whisky into the elderly home ec teacher's water bottle. Then, at the end of the night, they walked home, and spent the night at Louise's.

Dana had worn jeans.

This year, she wasn't getting off the hook that easily. The dress she finally decided on was ugly. Plain and simple. A dark green "A line" with black lacey lining around the neck, and went down to just above her knees. It was the only dress at M&S in her size that didn't draw much attention to her hips and breasts. Her mother tried to convince her to go for the one that made her feel like she couldn't breathe, or the one that probably showed more cleavage than the porn magazines than she'd found in her cousin's bedside dresser. She gave up eventually, happy Dana had gotten one at all.

"A dress is a dress, D," Mrs. Howell had said as the the cashier scanned the horrific object and bagged it. Her mom smiled at her. She felt like throwing up.

The whole ride home, Dana wondered why she was going to the dance in the first place. Who could she ask? She had almost zero friends at school, much less any guy mates she could casually invite. Maybe she'd see if Chris or Pj could go? They'd both had girlfriends though, so probably more. Maybe she could ditch the dance and take the tube to France. She was already taking the class. She could visit the Eiffle Tower. Start a new life. Eat a baguette.

Minutes later, they were walking up the pavement to the Howell's ranch. The house was nothing special. At all. A chipping, dark brown roof with a baseball that John had gotten stuck up there when he was 9, beige stucco paneling, and a red door with a lion head knocker.

"Someone rang for you, Dana." John's cracking voice came from the living room as she and her mom walked through the door. Who the hell would have called Dana? On a Friday? John handed her the phone and gave her the number who called. She didn't recognize it.

"Who did they say was calling?"

"Your mum."

"Screw you then," She listened to the dial tone as walked up the rickety stairs, waiting for them to pick up.
"Hello? Dana? It's Phil."