Trouble ─ rory gilmore

nine

ALL anybody at this school wanted to talk about was the fucking formal. Everywhere she went on campus, Marley overheard conversations about dresses and dates and tickets, and she'd hit her limit on caring. Dances weren't really her thing even when she had a friend group to go with, but now she lamented the fact that she would never be able to experience a school dance the way straight kids did. She would be crucified if she showed up to a dance with a girl for a date, not that there were any other openly gay girls at Chilton for her to go with. It would be even worse than the aftermath of the house party incident.

"Do people really go to these dances?" Rory asked Marley at lunch on Monday the week of the dance.

"I mean, it's not as big a deal as prom, obviously, but it's pretty popular." Marley shrugged. "I went with my old friend group last year, and it was fine, I guess. Nothing life-changing. Why? You thinking about going?"

"I wasn't, but my grandma's upset that I wasn't planning on it, and now my mom is on me about it too. I don't know. But even if I wanted to go, I don't have anyone to go with."

Last week, Rory finally bit the bullet and told Dean she wasn't interested. He took it poorly, going on a rant about how much of his time she wasted. She supposed she deserved that; she waited much longer than she should have to have that conversation.

"If I were anyone else, I'd say we could go together, but everyone will take it the wrong way and assume we're a thing." Marley pushed the mushy vegetables on her lunch tray around with a fork. "People will start harassing you too, and you don't deserve that."

In her dream world, they would go to the dance as a thing, but that fantasy was so outside of the realm of possibilities that it belonged in another solar system.

At first, Rory only processed, "I'd say we could go together." She thought, for a brief moment, that Marley was actually asking her to the dance, or at least saying it would be nice if they could go together like that without opening themselves up to hate. Concerningly, the response on her tongue wasn't a no, it was an incredulous and surprisingly eager, "Really?" Then the rest of what Marley said finally registered. She wasn't asking Rory to the dance like that, she was saying she would be open to going as friends, but people would still give them shit for it. Rory ignored the weight of disappointment in her stomach.

"It's not like I have much to lose," she said. "I have no other friends here, and Paris and Tristan already torment me every day. And if I don't go, my grandma will be mad at me forever."

Marley shook her head. "I don't think you understand. Not that she isn't awful to you, but if everyone thinks you're gay, it'll be Paris times, like, forty every day."

"Solidarity." Rory widened her eyes. Marley gritted her teeth, Rory's goddamn baby blues boring into her soul. She knew going to the dance together would be an awful idea, one she shouldn't have even brought up, but she couldn't say no to that face.

"Fine. But you can't say I didn't warn you."

They bought their dance tickets separately. One of them buying two tickets would get people talking, and Marley was aiming for minimal fallout. There was no way around the two of them arriving together, though—Rory had no car of her own and couldn't take her mother's for five hours. Or at least it wasn't feasible when they planned out the night. Lorelai had since thrown out her back and could barely move, let alone drive, but they didn't bother changing their plans.

Marley pulled into the Gilmores' driveway at just after 6:20. Figuring Rory might still be getting ready, she got out and rang the doorbell.

"Come in!" someone yelled from inside. Marley shuffled in, finding Emily and Lorelai in the living room.