RE: Trailer Trash, 54 pt 4 (Patreon)

“Right, yes ma’am!” Bobby said with a cheeky smile, turning from teacher to Tabitha and giving her a friendly wave. “Sorry, babe.”

Then, Tabitha watched as he took off down the track to the laughter of his fellow guys.

Damn it. I wanted Bobby to treat me like I was COOL, Tabitha despaired a little bit. Not like I’m a HOT GIRL. I still have no idea how to react to THAT. There’s no manual for that!

There probably actually was an in-depth manual or field guide for that kind of thing, and Tabitha suspected it was in the girly magazines she’d always steered clear of, like Seventeen, and Bop, and Teen People. It just felt so stereotypical teenage consumer to search for life advice in the pages of a rag designed to sell you things, and the idea of it had always bothered her. At least all coming of age comedies poke fun at the idea at least once or twice. Maybe that’s why I just can’t take it seriously?

In any case, she was in trouble. She had potentially good genetics going for her on her mother’s side—so long as she steered a wide berth away from fats and sugars—and knew herself to be somewhat attractive. This was not going to be an isolated incident, and the next time something like this inevitably happened, she needed to prepare a better response than blind panic.

But—but what do I DO?! Tabitha floundered, trying to put on a smile that didn’t come off as uneasy.

She stepped over closer to join the others gathered for class, but it took several long, excruciating moments to go from the focus of everyone’s attention to part of the crowd, and the raw tension didn’t leave her shoulders even when people lost interest or turned away towards their own business. After all, it was early, and it was cold as hell out here. Half the bleary faces she saw looked like they’d been dragged out of bed hours without notice and without coffee, and there was a general sense of irritation simply at being out here in the cold first thing in the morning.

“It’s so cold,” Tabitha overheard one girl complain.

“Why can’t we do roll call inside?” Another girl griped back in a low voice, as if afraid Coach Baylor might overhear.

Aside from Bobby being Bobby, all of the muted conversations Tabitha was able to pick up fell into that same repetition; it was too cold, or it was too early. They all wanted to still be in bed. One guy over there didn’t have gloves, and was joking around about keeping his hands warm in the pockets of another guy’s coat. A girl’s voice insisted that she was freezing and about to cry; when Tabitha glanced over she saw a short, petite girl wearing a poofball hat, who looked annoyed rather than distraught. In the other direction, a boy was asking the guy next to him about how much lockers cost.

I thought they didn’t charge us for school lockers? Tabitha frowned, trying to remember how much cash she had on her at the moment. I think today I just have… five bucks? Four bucks, maybe, in ones?

“Tabitha Moore?” Coach Baylor finally reached her name on the clipboard and searched the crowd.

“Here,” Tabitha announced herself, trying not to flinch back as half the class turned her way again.

Coach Baylor waved her forward as she’d done with the others she was calling up.

“Locker room lockers are three dollars,” Coach Baylor explained in the voice of someone who’d repeated this spiel all morning. “They’re the ones in by the girls showers, and they’re optional, you don’t have to have one. If you would like to have one, they’re three dollars, because we have to replace all the locks every single year. If you’d like one, I mark your name down, and then I’ll need the money before the end of the week.”

“Oh—um, yes please,” Tabitha said, unshouldering her bookbag so she could hunt down her little wallet. “Is… uh, what are the procedures for the showers here? I don’t know how any of that works.”

“Locker rooms are only unlocked during class,” Coach Baylor tapped at the teacher’s lanyard she wore where keys dangled. “So, don’t leave anything you will need otherwise in there, because I don’t open it up for anyone outside of hours. School doesn’t provide soap or shampoo or towels, and we are not a laundry service. There’s a big clothes line hung up in the women’s showers; you’ll want to bring a beach towel with a design so you can tell it apart.”

The coach’s tone and expression were difficult to read—rather than stern or put out when listing off the rules, she seemed very cordial. The beautiful blonde woman was clarifying everything right away with the patient, professional demeanor of someone who had dealt with over-excessive male attention her entire life; she was someone used to immediately introducing a framework of boundaries and expectations that could be referred back to later as necessary.

Tabitha felt like she was learning a lot here already.

“The last ten minutes of any classes where there’s physical activity, I’ll allow you girls to shower if they need to. Water on our side is only ever lukewarm, so I don’t expect anyone to be in there for their hair, or spending too much more time. You won’t have to return to our class after your shower, but you are responsible for making it to your next class on time. Shower access is a privilege, not a right, think of it as a courtesy we’re offering so that you don’t just reek of sweat throughout the rest of the school day. Shower has its own rules on a big sign—no running, no roughhousing, respect privacy, all that. We’ll be in there and go over all of that in detail with everyone tomorrow.”

“Ten minutes, okay,” Tabitha nodded, trying to quickly remember everything as she singled out three bills.

“Thank you,” Coach Baylor accepted them with a smile, penning something onto the clipboard with a flourish and then clipping the dollars in beneath the sheet. “You’re all squared away, then.”

“Oh, er,” Tabitha spoke up. “I also have a doctor’s note? I had an endoscopic ventriculostomy at the start of last November—I should be cleared for some physical activity again soon… but they might make me wear a helmet for when I’m actually doing things. I hope not, but…”

“Hmm, right,” Coach Baylor nodded in understanding. “I did hear you had brain surgery. And, you had a wrist fracture as well?”

“Yeah, yes, but um, that cast should come off soon, too,” Tabitha hurried to explain. “I do want to try for track, and maybe cheer if it’s possible.”

“Oh?” Coach Baylor regarded her with new interest, as if Tabitha had just revealed they were actually distant cousins. “You may not be able to do both, I think there would be schedule conflicts down the line. If you do have to decide, I’d recommend you go for cheer.”

“Really?” Tabitha asked.

“Really,” Coach Baylor said, giving her another look that Tabitha wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Coach Cooke is in charge of track. I don’t want you to have anything to do with him.”

“Oh,” Tabitha said. Is he… a creep, or something?

It seemed like a strange thing for Coach Baylor to say to her when she was otherwise being so professional. Was Tabitha reading into it the wrong way? Perhaps there was simply some sort of rivalry there between the two athletics teachers she wasn’t aware of. Surely the no-nonsense Coach Baylor wouldn’t let things slide here at Springton High if the male coach was creepy? The line had been delivered without any joking inflection or knowing smile or anything like that, and Tabitha wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

“Tiffany Myers?” Coach Baylor continued down her list.

Weird, Tabitha tried to put it out of mind as she backed away. But anyways, I might have to choose between track and cheer? And, ten minutes for showers. That’s a lot of time, but it’s also not a lot of time. Not when you figure I need to actually head over there and shower and change and dry off and make myself presentable for next class. Is it worth it? I definitely had planned on running in the mornings, though…

“Hey,” A girl’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Tabitha looked up to see that the short girl in the poofball hat had approached her, and she involuntarily tensed up again.

“Hey?” Tabitha responded.

“You got a locker?” The girl asked. “None of the other girls got lockers.”

Poofball hat girl was staring, but then her eyes then also wandered. The girl’s arms were crossed, but Tabitha couldn’t tell if it was defensive distancing body language or if the girl was simply hugging herself because of the cold. She was shifting from one foot to the other, several other girls were looking in their direction, and Tabitha didn’t feel like she had a read on the atmosphere.

“Um,” Tabitha swallowed, wondering what social faux pas she’d blundered into without realizing. “I thought it would be better to have one and not wind up needing it, rather than needing it and not having it?”

“Okay,” Poofball hat stared again for an awkward moment. “That makes sense, I guess. Just—kinda scary to shower at school? I think from what I heard, like, only some of the upperclassmen do it.”

“Oh,” Tabitha winced. “Should I not have? I—I don’t know what’s normal for freshmen.”

“No, yeah, I don’t know,” The girl let out a nervous laugh that left a brief cloud of vapor in the air. “Do you think I should get one? It’s cool if it’s only like, a few of us in there. You won’t be weird or make fun of me or anything?”

“No, no,” Tabitha assured her. “She said we only get ten minutes, so—yeah, I figure we’d just be in and out. Washing off sweat real quick.”

“Yeah,” The girl frowned. “Really don’t want to feel all gross the rest of the day.”

“Yeah,” Tabitha said. “Uh—I’m Tabitha!”

“Vanessa,” The girl offered. “Right, I heard about you. They sai—”

“Vanessa Smith,” Coach Baylor called.

With an anxious jolt Vanessa spun around, quickly stepping over towards the coach. To Tabitha’s surprise, the short girl and their teacher spoke at length to each other—it appeared Vanessa was actually going to get a locker room locker with her. Some of the other girls exchanged glances or eyed Tabitha with nervous expressions, and there were more complaints about the cold. Bobby ran by them at a jog as he finished his first lap, and several of the guys heckled him with mock-drill sergeant voices as he passed.

“Move, move, move, private!”

“Left! Left! Left, right, left!”

Did I just… make a friend, almost? Tabitha felt a surge of enthusiasm that was difficult to stifle. Or, or maybe not like a FRIEND, but we’ll maybe be locker room buddies, when hardly any of the girls are going for that? There will be some little bit of solidarity or something, right?

Moments later, Vanessa returned, heading back over towards Tabitha with a scowl.

“She said the water won’t be hot,” Vanessa reported with a disgusted look.

“But, you got a locker?” Tabitha asked.

“Yeah,” Vanessa sighed. “I hope it won’t be awful. The boys’ locker room smells, like even from fifty feet away, you can smell it. It better not be bad. And, you’re not allowed to make fun of me. And, no one’s allowed to see me naked, ever.”

“If it’s just going to be you and I in there, the last thing I want to do is antagonize you?” Tabitha wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to laugh here.

“Cool,” Vanessa said. “Sorry, not trying to be bossy or anything. Super scary. Didn’t think they’d make us get all that sweaty if we have more classes after, so. I don’t know. Locker room shower stuff is all like, weird in movies and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Tabitha shuddered. “I keep picturing the movie Carrie.”

“Right?!” Vanessa laughed, arms still tightly crossed. “Where they’re all just casually naked, and then they even start like, throwing all their tampons at the girl? What the hell.”

“Did you guys sign up for lockers?” A gangly girl with wide eyes walked over to them. “Didn’t seem like anyone else was gonna shower at school.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna,” Vanessa huffed. “You?”

“Yeah,” The gangly girl answered. “I mean, if that’s cool?”

“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “Shower club can be just us three, looks like we’re the only cool ones. No one’s allowed to see me naked.”

“Same,” Tabitha added.

“Uh, yeah, same,” The newcomer said. “Marisa.”

“Vanessa.”

“I’m Tabitha,” Tabitha introduced herself, finally allowing herself to feel excited. “She said we have to bring all our own stuff—soap, shampoo, everything. Towels, even.”

“Extra change of clothes too, for sure,” Marisa nodded. “Just in case.”

“Yeah, for sure, Vanessa agreed. “Not to be weird, but—there’s gonna be like, private stalls with curtains, right?”

“In movies it’s just like a big open room,” Marisa made a face. “All open tile and shared shower or whatever.”

“God, it better not be,” Vanessa scowled again. “No offense, or anything.”

“I mean, even if it is, we can set something up, right?” Tabitha said. “Like, a camp shower or something. Bring it in and set it up. They make privacy stuff for situations like that—camping trip stuff.”

“Or we could take turns?” Marisa suggested.

“With just ten minutes?” Tabitha was skeptical. “Half of that time already is like, getting over there and changing and stuff. Drying off.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa pouted. “I’m fucking freezing.”

“Can somebody ask?” Marisa turned a pleading look towards each of them. “I don’t wanna ask. She said we weren’t going in there today, but like—there’ll be stalls or curtains, right? Like, how can they want us to pay for the locker up front, without us even knowing if we can really shower in there?”

“Did you pay already? I didn’t.”

“I did,” Tabitha admitted.

“No, I just thought—I’m just marked down for one. I dunno, though.”

“I think, either way…” Tabitha shrugged. “We can either set up like a privacy screen, or just—completely mind our own business? I’m not going to be trying to gawk at either of you or stare or make it weird. Just, I know for sure I’m going to be running in the mornings, and I don’t wanna smell.”

“Did any of the boys sign up for one?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Doubt it—their locker room smells like ass. Seriously, like fermented ass. It’s disgusting. You can tell from way downwind of it, even.”

“So—what do they do about being all sweaty?”

“They’re guys, they don’t even care about being gross.”

“Well, Bobby is for sure gonna be all sweaty today,” Tabitha nodded in his direction as he jogged across the track in the distance. “Coach Baylor said she’s not even opening the showers ‘til tomorrow.”

“Bobby?”

“Is he the douchebag guy?”

“He wasn’t being serious,” Tabitha made sure to correct them. “He was just goofing around, ‘cause we know each other.”

“Oh, alright.”

“Yeah, that’s better, then.”

“Did you guys all get lockers?” A girl with thick-rimmed glasses and a Tommy Hilfiger jacket approached along with another girl.

“Yeah, shower club,” Vanessa said, eyeballing them warily. “You in?”

“Ms. Baylor said we had until the end of the week to decide,” Glasses girl said, exchanging glances with her friend.

“Well, think fast, then,” Vanessa shrugged. “Tabitha said it’s smarter to get one.”

“Better to have access and not need it, then to need it and not have it,” Tabitha repeated her line from earlier, but this time both Marisa and Vanessa were nodding along as if it was common sense.

“Right, yeah,” Glasses girl said. “Should probably get one, then.”

“We don’t want too many girls in there, though,” Vanessa pointed out, arms still folded in front of her. “And like, yeah—nobody’s allowed to make fun of each other, and nobody’s allowed to see me naked.”

“Same,” Tabitha chirped again.

“Same,” Marisa joined in.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” the heavyset friend held up her hands. “We’re cool.”

Did I… just magically become part of a little clique, here? Tabitha wondered in surprise. Do groups just CREATE themselves out of thin air, this fast? I feel like I went from weirdo loner to being part of the IN club within the span of forty seconds?! Is this a normal girls thing? Feels almost like I’m exploiting some… I don’t know, psychological blind spot, where girls just would rather be part of a group in situations where we might feel vulnerable?

( Previous, 54 pt 3 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, To be continued... )

/// Sorry if this feels like it's dragging on, trying to aim for a weird specific sort of first-establishing-group-dynamics tension since the previous sections were mostly solo Tabs working herself up into an anxiety spiral. Will probably run us through a first couple days of school in excruciating detail, and then back off and let the story start timeskipping repetitive bits.