Let Them Talk

(Three)

Madeline is one of those people who finds personal space a quaint concept for the more squeamish. She's draped over my bed because "chairs are for doctors' offices and calc class," and I'm cross legged in the middle of the room because where else is there to sit?

"It's probably Kandice- with a 'K' because it's sluttier than just 'C,'" she says, playing the recording through a pair of earbuds. "Yeah, definitely Kandice-with-a-K."

"I'm not sure that's how-"

"And also because I'd recognize that scratchy methbaby voice anywhere. Gives me nightmares." She snaps her fingers to get my attention and tosses the phone back. "At the very least, I'm glad it's someone way beneath me."

"Isn't she basically on your, like, your social level or whatever, though?"

She glares at me witheringly. "We're talking beyond leagues below, Joss. I'm tournaments better than her."

"So now what?"

She clicks her tongue, staring at the ceiling. "I'm not sure. I mean, I was expecting it, but still. I kinda liked him."

"Liked him better than whoever you were busy with when you couldn't go catch them yourself?"

She glances up, guilty. "Er, well maybe I wasn't so much busy as...indisposed. That's to say, I only implied that I was with someone."

"What."

"Pringles, a WiFi connection, half a season of 'House' to watch...I hooked up with myself, basically."

"Oh my God-- you made me do it because you didn't want to get off the couch!?"

"Do we have to phrase it like that?"

Look-- I'd understand if it wasn't completely for her benefit. But I couldn't care less who (Brandon?) was cheating on her with, and I was the one who had to do it. 

(Also, I wouldn't mind if I didn't have to remember the bored, annoyed look on Blaze's face as we drove back- I'd rather fail my SATs than know I made a bad impression)

Not that I'm obsessed, like, it's cool. I'd just rather him have a high opinion of me and want to spend...more time with me.

(Shut up you know what I mean)

"Look, I'm sorry it was such an ordeal or whatever," she sighs, propping her feet on the wall above my headboard. "I didn't know you liked hanging out with the Institute kids so much. Turn up with peroxide or whatever they buy-- it's thrilling, I get it."

"Um-"

She bursts out laughing. "Oh my God that was too much I'm sorry. But seriously-- sometimes, anything is better than the beach, Joss." She shoves my window closed with her heel. "Especially in fucking September."

"They're not that bad-- and it's warm out this week."

She stands up, rolls her eyes. "You're better than that, you don't need them or their cheap entertainment." She starts pacing.

A few circuits around the room later she stops and stares at me. "So, let's talk about Blaze."

Fuck.

"You asked about Blaze that night."

"I just wondered-"

"Tell me everything on pain of torture."

"He helped me go up to Brandon's house and break a window...?"

"Scintillating," she says dryly. "I can see the lecherous fanfiction writing itself in my head as we speak."