FIXATION

THREE

THREE: RUMORS
november 1st, 1984.

"You and Harrington.. really?"

"No. It wasn't like that. We aren't"-

"You know, it's fine with me, Rose." Ivy promised as she turned from her locker and set a hand on her hip, "just don't pull a Nancy Wheeler and ditch me the second you and him start sucking face."

Rosalie thought back to the memory of Steve kissing her. The thought was still weird, it caused all sorts of emotions to blossom from herself; want, guilt, hate, confusion for starters. A certain tingle buzzed at her lips when she thought back to the moment his lips met hers. But for some odd reason, the thought made her warm cheeks press up as she grinned unintentionally at the embedded memory.

"So you guys did suck face?" Ivy gasped to her friend who instantly shh'ed her. Her face slowly transformed from shocked to excitement, like she always got when she was delivering the latest flow of gossip. "No fucking wa"-

"It wasn't like that!" Rosalie repeated once again. It was like she was some broken record, one that Ivy was ignoring when she repeated the same thing over and over and over again. It had been like that the moment she stepped into the school and Ivy eyed her across the hallway with an eager stare.

All Rosalie wanted to do now was get the day over with. She still had two hours before she was going to be let out of her own personal Hell. Ever since she walked out of Steve's car that morning, and the two parted their separate ways for first period, it was like everyone was staring at her all the time. For instance, right now, after lunch had ended, a group of girls - the ones that had been in the car next to Steve's this morning - were now on the other side of the hallway, whispering about God knows what. Obviously it was about Rosalie because they all gestures towards her with a nasty look on their faces. One blonde girl looked over her shoulder and snickered.

"What?" Rosalie barked at the staring group of girls. Her question caught them off guard, the blonde in front shrugged as her friends shut their lockers.

"Nothing," she mumbled as they passed with a long lasting sigh coming from her mouth, "nothing at all." Her ice blue eyes trailed Rosalie's frame up and down. An unapproved scoff left her pursed lips after her eyes rolled.

"Ignore them," Ivy mumbled closing her own locker. The girls each pursed their lips as they passed, and Rosalie did the same thing she always did when given harsh cut glares from strangers: She crossed her arms and walked in the opposite direction to her next class.

Her next class, with her luck, was gym with her very sexist gym teacher. Mr. Blake had a 'no girls playing basketball, dodgeball - practically any sports' rule. As degrading as that was, today that rule was a blessing for Rosalie. Even her own locker room was swarming with talk while she lifted up her white socks up to her shins. The usual buzz filled the stuffy room, but more eyes glued to her like a sticky wad of gum all over her. Showers began to shut off, while lockers slammed all around the room. Some girls laughed from somewhere in the room. Girls passed Rosalie in hushed whispers, then when they were far enough, continued to talk at normal volume.

Things were beginning to get stranger.

So what if she drove to school with Steve Harrington? Why was car pooling such a big deal? High school drama was the lowlight of her school year. A girl could show up with her shirt unbuttoned and all of a sudden, according to the buzz, she's having sex with guys in the back of her car. A boy could have dyed his hair blue and all of a sudden he's gay. She started to wonder who decided the do's and don'ts of high school. Was there some form of literature titled 'How to: Survive High School with Little to no Rumors Spread About You' or was it just some higher power that controlled the flow of news? The system was unbelievable and extremely ridiculous.