Friday (part 2)

F .4

Trina was sleeping when they came in, so it wasn't for almost fifteen minutes that they got to talk to her. Even then, she seemed surprised to see them. "Arie. Derek. What are you doing here? Isn't school still going?"

"Yes, it is," Derek said. "But we got special permission from Dr. Zelvetti, since she couldn't be here herself. Did you know she was here last night?"

"No," said Trina quietly.

"Derek," Arie said. "Hush. We're not here to interrogate her."

Derek snorted. "Deserves it after making us panic like that."

"Be that as it may," Arie told him. "If you be civil, you can wait outside."

Derek stared at her, astonished. Trina stared at her, astonished. "What?" Arie said. "Is propriety that far beyond me? Sheesh, you guys."

She pulled up a chair and sat down near her sister's hospital bed. After a moment, Derek did the same.

"So, how are you," Arie asked.

"I'm... All right," said Trina. "Alive, obviously. I've slept a lot. I'm really hungry too. They told me they had to pump my stomach, and I hadn't eaten anything since lunch anyway." She frowned. "But all they'll give me is this nasty blended smoothie stuff. Supposedly it's to give my stomach lining a rest, but it tastes like ass. Can't stand it."

Arie laughed. "And where did you learn what ass tastes like?"

"Shut up," Trina said crossly, and Arie shook her head and smiled and fell silent.

Trina fidgeted with the bedspread. "So. Why did Dr. Zelvetti send you here?"

"Because she's concerned," Arie said. "We all are."

"Pfft," Trina said. "Yeah right."

"Yes, right," Arie said without heat. "Trina, annoying bitch though you may be sometimes, we still get worried when you do something crazy like this. You're my sister. That's more important than a lot of things."

" 'We'?" said Trina.

"Yes," Derek said. "We. If Arie is concerned, I'm concerned, and I'm pretty sure that goes for her other friends too."

"Then why aren't they here," Trina asked acidly.

Arie sighed, but held to her patience. "Trina, if you're determined to be obstinate, we can always go back to school. We don't have to be here. As you yourself have pointed out. Now, would you like us to stay, or go?"

"No," Trina said, "no, I'm... Can you stay? Please?"

"Of course we will," Arie said.

There was silence for a moment while Trina fidgeted with the blanket.

"It was all your fault, you know," she said, looking up suddenly. Her voice was desperate.

"What do you mean," Arie asked.

"Your fault," Trina said. "That I did... This. I know the meeting with Dr. Zelvetti was your idea."

"Oh," said Arie.

"Meeting?" Derek asked. "Is that where you were during break yesterday?"

"She chewed me out," Trina said plaintively. "She and Dr. Zelvetti totally chewed me out for being who I am."

"We did not," Arie protested. "That's unfair, Trina. We saw you making mistakes—at least, what we thought were mistakes—and wanted to make sure we knew. That's what friends do."

"Exactly," said Trina. "You chewed me out."

Arie sighed and sat back in her chair.

"You were right," Trina said quietly.

Arie and Derek said nothing, hoping she would keep talking, and she did.

"When you told me... All that stuff about being myself, and about... How I wasn't being myself... I didn't want to believe it. But then I remembered what Brinklady said on Candlelight: that if you don't like hearing something about yourself, it's probably true."

Arie nodded.

"And..." said Trina. "That just... Screwed me up. I didn't... I didn't know what to do. I couldn't believe I'd been... Doing this for so long. I couldn't believe I'd screwed myself up so much."

"Well..." Derek said politically. "People make mistakes sometimes."

"Yes, but... Not like I did," said Trina.

Derek had no answer to that.

"So... I just... Couldn't take it anymore," Trina said. "I felt so alone."

"I'm sorry," Arie said.

"Don't be," Trina said. "You saved me."

"I hurt you."

"Shit happens." Trina shrugged.

Arie smiled sadly.

"So..." Derek said. "Now... What happens?"

"Arie gloats over how right she was," Trina said.

"No," Arie said, "I wouldn't."

"Oh, come on," Trina said playfully. "You aren't going to at least say 'I was right, I told you so'?"

"If this is the cost of being right, I'd rather be wrong," Arie said. "Some friend I am, if I can't even keep the people I care about from hurting themselves." And this time it was Trina who reached out to her sister—Trina, reaching out to help someone for the first time she could recall in a long, long time. Derek took both their hands, and for a moment they were united, united in grief, united in love.

"I just wish I hadn't wasted my Program week," Trina said.

"Huh?" Arie said. "What do you mean?"

"Arie, look at me," Trina said. "I just spent the entire week prostituting myself. And now it's Friday, and my chance is wasted."

"Trina, look at yourself," Arie responded. "It's Friday. You're not in school. You missed a day of The Program. You're going to have to do it again."

Trina's mouth dropped open, slowly curving into a smile.

"Looks like you found a silver lining to this particular cloud," Derek said.

"I will! You're right! I'll have to do it again!" Trina exclaimed.

"Well, maybe not have to," said Arie. "Dr. Zelvetti might waive that rule in your case. But if you make it known that you don't want her to waive it, well..." She shrugged and grinned.

"You're getting a second chance, Trina," Derek said, smiling. "That's not something most people get."

"But I've got to avoid screwing up like I did before," Trina said.

"Don't prostitute yourself," Arie said. "Popularity is for losers. Like me." She grinned.

"Just go with your heart," Derek said. "Do whatever you want or don't want to do. Don't let anyone tell you what to do. Be yourself."

Trina's face fell, and she looked at them both for a moment. "Be yourself. I guess that's what it comes down to, isn't it."

"Why would you be anyone else?" Arie asked. "Why would you be me, or Derek, or Meredith, or Chrissy Wheatley, or Princess Diana? Do you know anything about being them? Of course not. We never do. So go with what you know. Be yourself."

"But what if I don't know myself," Trina asked. "What if I..."

"Trina, why do you think we have teenagers?" Arie asked. "Why do you think teenagers do crazy stuff? It's because they don't know either. None of us do. So we do crazy stuff, we try it on for size. And most of us discover, hey, that's not us. So maybe we don't know what we are, but slowly we learn what we're not. Which is what you've been doing, basically. Just, you got confused between what you're not and what you are."

"Yeah," Trina said. "Yeah. Or, really, what I want to be and what other people want me to be."

"There'll always be people who want you to be something you're not," Derek said. "Now you know their faces a little better."

"Yeah," Trina said, sobering. "Yeah. I know them. Alex Masterson... The popular people... The non-popular people... My mom." She sighed. "Me."

"Which is why you have friends," Arie said. "To pull you back when things get tough."

"I do have friends, don't I," Trina said. "And even more than that: I have a sister."

F .5

It was the end of her last day in The Program, and Jane felt, strangely, a bit of anti-climax. She had been Rule Three'd several times, culminating in a need for relief in fourth period, but nothing particularly interesting had happened all day.

Of course, if something happened that could somehow top Thursday afternoon, I'd probably have another breakdown. Even if I enjoyed it.

She knew what was going to happen: a gauntlet, leading to the clothes boxes, of people interested in a last-minute Rule Three, or people who'd been too timid or afraid to speak up until now, or the hangers-on and bystanders come to see whatever there was to see. These people did not scare her now. She had passed through that fire.

Dr. Zelvetti was waiting by the clothes boxes, though it took Jane a good five or six minutes to reach her. "Well, Jane," said Dr. Zelvetti broadly. "How was your week?"

"It was... Pretty well, Dr. Zelvetti," said Jane neutrally. There were things she was simply not about to tell this lady, no matter how much she liked her.

"You're still naked, I see," said Dr. Zelvetti. "I guess that means you've completed your Program week."

"I guess it does," Jane agreed.

"Well," said Dr. Zelvetti. "Congratulations, Jane. I'm proud of you."

She would be, she wanted me to do this more than anyone else did. But she forced herself to be polite and say, "Thank you, Dr. Zelvetti."

Dr. Zelvetti looked at her shrewdly, and Jane suddenly wondered if she'd somehow heard or perceived her thoughts. "I hope you won't hold it against me, that I forced you through a second time," she said, which only unnerved Jane more. "Jane, you're a wonderful girl, and you deserve the best you can have. But first you have to come out of your shell. You see?" She looked at her with direct eyes, and Jane realized, to her alarm, that Dr. Z wanted her approval.

"It's all right," she said. "You're right about that shell thing. I honestly don't know if I'd've come this far if left on my own." Which was the truth, but didn't say whether it was a good thing that she'd come that far. Because, of course, Jane wasn't entirely sure herself. She was different than she had been; that was all she knew.

Dr. Zelvetti nodded, and then, evidently, deciding she'd gotten the answer she wanted, took her leave.

Jane had barely gotten one of her shoes off, however, when the next trauma came up. "Jane Myers, the God of Pastries! Hear me!"

"God of Pastries?" Jane said. "Does such a thing exist?"

"Probably not," Russell said, grinning. "Hopefully not."

"So, what can I do for you, Russell," Jane said. "You've got about two seconds before I start dressing."

"Jane," Russell said. "I'm hurt. After all the quality time we've spent. I made you come, after all."

"That doesn't make you Jesus," Jane said blankly.

"Well," said Russell. "Never said it did. But I had another thing to say."

"Go for it," Jane said, digging into the box with her shirt. She realized that Russell could reach over and touch her privates if he wanted—she was bent over that way—and decided she didn't care. Russell didn't bother her anymore.

"Jane Myers," Russell said, "are you busy tonight?"

"What!" said Jane, standing bolt upright. She stared at him.

"You heard me," he said. "You're hot. I want you to date me."

"No!" she said, pulling away.

Now it was his turn to gape. "Why not? You like me. I like you. You're incredible, Jane. I've never met anyone who's got the guts to do things like you are. I'm like, 'Come on, just try it, ' and they're like, 'Noooo, ' but you're all, 'Sure, let's.' And it's awesome. Jane, I'm never gonna find anyone like you. And you're never gonna find anyone like me. Anyone who pushes you, who tries to get you to push your boundaries. Go out with me, Jane. Come on."

Jane looked at him for a long time.

"No, Russell," she said.

"Yes!" he cried.

"No, Russell. I'm sorry. You like me, but I don't like you. Not that way. I'm sorry."

Russell looked at her with a mixture of frustration and lust, and then stomped away.

Jane blinked after him for a moment, not sure what to make of it, and then kept dressing.

Her friends were waiting for her near her mother's car. Lisa and Tommy were whispering to each other, touching, stroking each other's face, sometimes kissing. Jane gave them one look and nary a thought. Let them mash their faces together if they wish. Brandon and Meredith were also in each other's arms, but side by side, talking to Jane's mother. Jeff loitered, occasionally commenting in on Stasya's, Sajel's and Derek's conversation. Arie spoke with Christa and Zach, maybe about Trina, who of course wasn't here. After Brandon's experience as a freshman, Dr. Zelvetti had decided not to make any announcements. No one knew. Maybe no one would.

"How are you," her mother asked.

Jane shrugged. Her shirt, green, shifted around her shoulders in an odd way. "Clothed," she said.

"Yes, I can see that," said Megan Myers. "Your friends have come to keep me company. I must admit, I had no idea you had this many."

Jane shrugged. "Well, they mostly came with Brandon, but, they seem to like me anyway."

"They followed me home, Mom, can I keep 'em," Brandon said, grinning.

"How do you feel," her mother asked her.

Jane reflected for a moment. "I feel... Good," she said at last. "I've learned some important things about myself, and, I guess, there isn't a lot else you can ask for from The Program."

"Good," said Megan Myers. "Brandon, I know you've gone through The Program, but what about Meredith?" Jane knew she already knew; she supposed her mom was asking just to be polite.

"I went too," Meredith said. "In May, actually. It was..." She stepped a bit closer to Brandon. "A bit stressful. Not because of The Program itself, but, because of... Other things. I mean..."

Someone tugged her on the sleeve. "Hey." It was Jeff.

"Hi," she said, smiling. "I wanted to thank you. For... For yesterday, I mean."

"Oh," he said.

"You really..." She wasn't able to explain it: just how much her faith in people had been restored by the simple humanity in his actions that night. Russell had broken her—made her believe that nothing, nothing, that was good could possibly come out of the coupling between a man and a woman... And Jeff had saved her. "You were kind to me," was all she said in the end. "And I appreciate that."

He shrugged, a conversation in one sentence. "What else was a guy to do?"

They stood facing each other for a moment, and she smiled at him. He really was like Brandon in some ways—so knowledgeable, so polite, and yet so timid, as if anything might snap at him.

"Listen," Jeff said suddenly, "I was wondering..."

"Yes?" she said.

"If... If you're not... If you have some time... Some day... Would you..." He was fidgeting, hesitating—toying with something on his backpack, looking at the ground. "Would you like to, I dunno, go see a movie, or, or have dinner together, or..."

"Are you..." she began.

"I, I really like you," he said. "You're brave, and caring, and... I know you're careful about who you let come near you. I... I wanna be one of those people."

"Jeff..." she said. "What I said this morning, about the time being right... You realize I meant that." At his silence, she continued: "What we did, last night... That was a one-time thing. If we ever do... Have sex again... It won't be for a long time. Not until the time is right."

"I know," he said—a little too quickly, but he said it. "I know. That doesn't matter to me. Jane, if I— If all I wanted was to have sex with you, I'd say that. —Or, actually, I wouldn't, because I know you'd say no. That's not what I want. I want... More than that," he finished lamely.

"You want to be my boyfriend," she said.

"Yeah."

Russell Hebbert had asked her the same thing, not five minutes ago, and she had turned him down—and yet, here she was, looking at Jeff Gainesborough, at his glasses and goatee and hesitancy under her eyes, and thinking about saying yes. I must be crazy, she thought. But then, she knew she wasn't. Russell wanted her to be someone she wasn't, someone daring, adventurous; someone she could be, she knew, but wouldn't be. Whereas Jeff... Wasn't asking any of that. And she liked him, certainly. Russell thinks he knows me. So does Jeff. But only one of them's right.

"Then, yes, Jeff," she said, smiling. "I will go out with you."

He grinned, like a burst of energy, like tension and the weight of the world sliding from him in one quick shrug. "That's... That's great. Thank you. Great."

"And are you gonna wait four months before you kiss him," Brandon said over her shoulder, and she spun, mortified, realizing that he and Meredith and her mother might have been watching the entire thing.

But there was nowhere else to go but forward. "No," she said, "no. Of course not."

Brandon, smiling broadly, gestured to Jeff, whose eyebrows climbed into his hair.

"Well..." said Jane. "Fine." And she walked over to him and stumbled and hesitated because he was quite a lot taller than Brandon, and would it be okay for her to put her arms around her, and she hoped to God her breath wasn't going to smell, and what about his glasses, were they going to get in the way, and, oh, quick, off to the left before you bonk noses!—