RE: Trailer Trash 55 pt 2 (Patreon)

Because Springton High was on the way of her Aunt Kimberly’s morning commute to work, Ashlee had been driven to school and dropped off on eerie, vacant schoolgrounds just after sunrise. Wandering the unfamiliar areas before the buses arrived with everyone made her feel like some sort of forgotten ghost. It was cold, and her embarrassing teal and mauve kiddie winter jacket from when she was younger not only didn’t fit—she was embarrassed to be seen in it, and was of a mind to take it off and shove it in her bag the moment high schoolers started showing up.

Entering into ninth grade here was a little terrifying, because the last grade Ashlee had finished was seventh, having been pulled out of Laurel Middle just a few weeks into eighth grade there. She hadn’t been completing her assignments and had been ignoring her homework, and when her furious mother had threatened to just pull her out of school entirely and ‘homeschool’ her instead, Ashlee jumped at the chance. None of the adults had seemed to realize that that was not a punishment for her, or what a miserable existence Ashlee was in school—no, everyone assumed she was like her sisters. Social, popular, thrilled to be there every day and be immersed in everyone’s attention and envy.

Nope. I’m weirdo Ashlee with the lazy eye.

Testing for placement to return to school had been a farce. She knew she flunked each of them, because for most of it she didn’t even understand the questions. Apparently everyone but her had spent eighth grade learning impossibly difficult equations and conjugative English syntaxes or some such, because Ashlee didn’t have a clue what any of the stuff even meant. Mrs. Cribb had bulled on regardless of her results with sickening cheer and those same old platitudes Ashlee had heard time and time again.

If the stupid education reform thing means I get put into ninth grade even when I don’t pass their tests, then WHAT’S THE POINT of all the tests and grading and such in the first place? Because, I really don’t get it.

Instead of being held back a grade as she’d expected, Ashlee would go to high school, but be in mostly the ‘developmental education’ versions of classes. Remedial english instead of english 1, pre-algebra rather than algebra 1. Rather than starting in normal freshman biology or marine science, she was tracked onto a primer course simply called ‘life sciences.’ Ashlee knew that she was entering ninth grade here in the second half of the year and already way behind, taking courses with those who’d already tried the real classes and flunked out.

And, if that’s the case—what’s the POINT of it all? Ashlee stared out across the school grounds with a sullen expression. Do they imagine the DRIVE TO SUCCEED will magically just appear within me? When I HATE school, I hate EVERYONE IN IT, I don’t understand why they want me to learn all of the stupid, pointless bullshit, and I don’t care anymore.

My parents aren’t paying for college anyways, so why am I wasting time here? This isn’t GOING ANYWHERE. It’s a stupid charade, so they can pat themselves on the back and say ‘well, at least we TRIED to give her opportunities, and that’s all we can do!’ I’d have rather stayed home! FORCING me to be here just because DURR-HURRR, STUDENT TRUANCY BAD is just so… STUPID!

Everything and anything was irritating her today. Her bra didn’t fit correctly, but she’d been told she was wrong when she complained, that it was actually the right size, because she was going to grow into it. The shirt hidden beneath her ugly jacket was an oversized and slightly discolored white Spice Girls tee—a hand-me-down from Brittney, who had in years past used it as a night shirt. On Ashlee’s bony frame, she felt like she was swimming in the thing. Beneath that she then had on a pair of black sweatpants, but they weren’t really black anymore, they were that certain ashy ‘black’ of black clothing perpetually mottled with lighter shades from lint and cat hair.

Which sucks, because her stupid cat Huey won’t even let me hold him! Ashlee scowled to herself. Yet, I still have to deal with having his fur all over everything. Not fair at all, if you ask me. Not fair at all. I just wanted to have him sit in my lap so I could pet him. Is that really so much to ask?

All in all, Ashlee felt completely wretched. She wasn’t educated enough to be here, her self-image remained at rock bottom where it always was, and when buses showed up and started disgorging tall, handsome high school teenagers who all seemed to know where they were going and what they were about, Ashlee wanted to just disappear. She scurried down one of the walkways away from that rush of arrivals until she spotted cafeteria tables through one of the glass double-doors of the buildings. There were a few kids sitting in there already, so she entered and quickly walked the rest of the way down the row of tables until she was sitting at the very far end corner.

Away from everyone, as far away as she could manage for now.

The flight of panic had her heart pounding and her eyes watering, but she was afraid to lift her trembling fingers and wipe away tears, because she’d very carefully arranged her bangs to cover over her bad eye this morning—the unsettling pupil that drifted, perpetually pointed outwards in the wrong direction. Hiding her deformity was her top priority, and keeping it secret from everyone for as long as humanly possible was her only distant chance of ever hoping to survive high school. Putting her bag up in front of her on the table and hugging it against herself as tight as she could hid how her hands were shaking.

I hate it here. I hate it here. I hate it here.

She couldn’t afford to show anyone how terrified and furious and intimidated and close to a complete mental breakdown she was—all of those things attracted attention, and any tiny bit of attention was social suicide and would begin the slow but inevitable death of all hope. It would strangle any future here where she might manage to eke out her miserable existence.

People from the buses were filing into the cafeteria, and the large open space began to echo with their voices as they sat here and there to grouse at each other about the cold or chat about this and that before classes started. Ashlee went rigid whenever she imagined one of the kids walking in glanced in her direction, feeling like she was cowering made her furious, and having no outlet for her anger made irrational ideas sprout throughout her fourteen year old mind like mushrooms.

I should just—run away, Ashlee deliberated. Erica just took off and left once when she was younger, why can’t I? I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE. Imagining literal YEARS more of THIS, just IMAGINING it makes me feel like I’m already going insane.

Her entire body was stiff with tension, and though her overactive mind leapt from one idea to another in search of possible solutions, nothing was coming to her. She hated schoolwork, and Springton High promised to be several degrees more difficult and tedious than anything that had been forced upon her before. There weren’t going to be friends or fun times here, just humiliation and agony as she was forced out to the periphery where she would watch her betters enjoy their fulfilling high school lives.

Just when she suspected she couldn’t possibly be any more demoralized, however, someone to lash out on finally approached her distant corner table.

“Um… hey?” A weak, uncertain girl’s voice asked, and for a moment Ashlee thought Tabitha had found her—the real Tabitha, not that imposter.

It wasn’t Tabitha. Instead, a girl her age with strawberry-blonde hair was fidgeting within an oversized hoodie. She was slightly pretty, which at first put Ashlee on edge, but staring for another couple seconds revealed that the girl was also kind of chubby. Not quite a social outcast, but definitely she had been outed, because sloppy eyeliner failing to conceal bags under her eyes, and suspiciously baggy clothing would make her the runt of the litter in any group of real popular girls.

“What,” Ashlee snapped.

This girl flinched slightly at her voice, which did put her at ease—Ashlee couldn’t help but start to imagine her circumstances. An army brat maybe, that had transferred here as a new student and failed to integrate into new friendships? No, the baggy clothing definitely indicated body issues. But, she was only heavyset, not fat or tubby like Tabitha had been. Teen pregnancy leapt first to mind, then victim of abuse was always a possibility, and finally Ashlee settled on deciding that this girl had probably been caught fooling around with a boy and publicly ostracized. Maybe had evangelical parents and was sent to some Christian rehabilitation summer camp for more shaming and punishment.

Unaware that Ashlee had already attributed an entire dramatic backstory to her, the strawberry-blonde turned and cast a nervous glance back across the scattered kids throughout the cafeteria in indecision, then finally worked up the courage to speak again.

“Uh… you were at that party, right?”

Party? Ashlee almost scoffed. No. I don’t go to house parties or drink or any of that kind of stuff—you’ve CLEARLY mistaken me for some kind of—

“Like—the roller skating thing?” The girl continued. “I think you were there?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Ashlee froze. “‘Tabitha’s’ birthday thing?”

“Yeah,” The girl frowned at the unusual emphasis on the name. “‘Tabitha?’”

“She’s a fake,” Ashlee gave a small shrug as she continued to size this girl up. She didn’t feel the need to explain it further—you either understood that Tabitha was a fraud, or you didn’t.

“Oh,” The girl said. “Well—yeah, I was there too. Clarissa.”

“Ashlee,” Ashlee said, continuing to stare.

“Um,” Clarissa seemed to flounder. “Is it cool if I sit over here? Nobody, uh—I don’t have anyone to sit with.”

“Do whatever you want,” Ashlee scowled in excitement and relief. “I don’t care.”

“Okay,” Clarissa paused again, hesitant to sit with her.

“So, what’s your deal?” Ashlee asked.

“Nothing, I guess,” Clarissa’s words were evasive but she did finally sit down, her posture both awkward and defensive. “You?”

“Everything,” Ashlee scoffed. “I hate it here. I really hate it here.”

“Yeah,” Clarissa said, staring off towards the far wall.

“You’re one of ‘Tabitha’s’ friends?” Ashlee tested. “In with them?”

“Not really,” Clarissa shrugged, or rather—her shoulders hunched up and then never really relaxed again. “I was just kind of… there?”

“Yeah, me too,” Ashlee agreed. “She told me to show up for the movie at like, this exact time, and I even get dropped off early, and then of course no one’s there. Waited in the lobby there for hours, and then when they get out after the movie she’s all ‘whoops, sorry we all forgot about you.’ Yeah, right.”

“Really?” Clarissa turned to look at her with wide eyes. “Like, on purpose?”

Once again Ashlee felt a sliver of distrust—because despite being a little chubby and the whole battered housewife or damaged goods or whatever act this girl was playing out, Clarissa still seemed a little too pretty and perfect to comfortably confide in. So, for a long moment Ashlee simply stared at her in that disquieting way she was so good at doing. Even with her lazy eye still hidden, Ashlee was just too well-practiced at giving people uncomfortable glares.

“Sorry, uh,” Clarissa chickened out first, lowering her head and instead examining her hands as she grasped for whatever missing subtext that stare was supposed to imply. “I guess… I don’t know. Surprised they didn’t all, uh… exclude me, too. Considering everything.”

“Nah, it’s this whole game they play,” Ashlee didn’t even try to keep the venom out of her voice. “You can’t exclude two people, not at the same time. You have to pick them off one at a time. To make them feel the most, like, alone and vulnerable and all that. It’s stupid popular girl mind game stuff. That time, it was me. Maybe next time, it would be you. S’always like that.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Clarissa nodded along.

“Really can’t stand them,” Ashlee continued to rant. “Elena went to Laurel with me, we had classes together in sixth and seventh grade—she’s the worst. ‘Tabitha’ is a complete and total fake. I don’t know what they were telling the others there, but like the moment they saw me, everyone was just extremely hostile. It’s like—I’ve never even met most of these people. If you really didn’t want me at your birthday, don’t invite me, then.

“What’s their problem, even? I didn’t even really want to go in the first place, but the moment my aunt got word from some school board lady, it was like they just were gonna make me go whether I wanted to or not. Even when I showed up with birthday presents for her, afterwards ‘Tabitha’ singled me out and had all sorts of issues with them. I hate them.”

“I got her a, uh, a Britney Spears CD,” Clarissa said. “A single. I didn’t know what else to bring. I don’t really know them that well.”

“Okay, I remember you now,” Ashlee said, thinking back. “You were all like, ‘this is brand new and like it just got released,’ and then ‘Tabitha’ is all playing it down, like everyone had already heard it before and it was old news. Fucking faker. God, I can’t stand her.”

“You were the one who brought a… purse? Right?” Clarissa asked.

“Yeah, and it was a Vera Bradley,” Ashlee snorted. “They’re expensive, so it should’ve been fine for her. But, nope—she comes up to me later and is all like, ‘you must have stolen this, because people like you can’t afford nice things, and now I’ll have to return it and blah blah blah.”

“Oh, wow,” Clarissa regarded her with wide eyes again.

“Yeah,” Ashlee said, embarrassed to realize she had overshared. “So—yeah.”

“Sorry,” Clarissa said. “I really had no idea.”

“It’s just how they are,” Ashlee scowled. “She’s supposed to be back in school this semester here, too. Tabitha the fake. She’s got everyone wrapped around her little finger—the school board lady wanted me to be all buddy buddy with her, pretend like we’re friends. We’re not.”

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/// So... Tabitha has a degree of future knowledge and all kinds of expectations for what going back to high school might be like, and is jumping at shadows there already. How can we just totally blindside her?