RE: Trailer Trash 55 pt 5 (Patreon)

Although her first day back to school was packed with experiences, the hours were also elapsing on by fast, because somehow or other Tabitha still felt conditioned to work shifts at the line safety plant. When you spend a good portion of your life working a monotonous eight hour shift, transitioning back to a mere five and a half hour school day and changing up locations for classes and seeing all the new faces every few hours—this day was just flying by.

So, after lunch she sat through a world history class incredibly distracted by wondering if it was taught by the same person from Mrs. Moreno’s gossip, and then there was biology. Biology happened to also have Gary’s loud friend from the bus in it, and although they didn’t sit near each other, Tabitha and him acknowledged each other with solemn nods of respect. Which felt cool! His name turned out to be Jacob at roll call, and she was able to mentally file that information away for later. Like world history before it, biology was taught by a no-nonsense teacher who didn’t allow much of anything in the way of commotion or socializing, so that was that.

Her final period for the day, art 2D, turned out to be the most interesting of all of her classes. Mr. Peterson the art teacher defied all of her expectations and turned out to be a brawny, wild-eyed man with a buzz cut and a toothy grin, wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt that couldn’t quite contain his biceps—stark upon one of which was a prominent US Army tattoo; framed within laurel branches was the emblem of a military tank atop crossed sabers.

The art room itself was a chaotic mess of tall tables and bar stools, each battered and beaten and spotted with paint from what must have been decades of accidents and spills. The walls and surrounding cabinets were a riot of shapes and color, because paintings and sculptures of every kind were jostling with one another for attention from every available surface. After stepping inside with the other students, some of which were familiar with the place already, and some of which like her were gawking, Tabitha filed around the tables on one side and chose a nice seat at one corner of the room.

To her surprise, this time a number of familiar faces appeared to be sharing class with her. Olivia’s boyfriend Michael was sitting at one of the other corner tables, and over there she also spotted Amber, a somewhat mean girl from last semester’s marine science class who had exchanged barbs with Elena over her. Vanessa—still sporting her poofball hat from this morning—put on a satisfied smirk upon entering and catching sight of Tabitha, immediately moving to join her table, and finally Clarissa trotted in just before the bell rang to start class, scanning the room with a panicked expression before Tabitha waved her over in invitation.

“Welcome! Welcome,” Mr. Peterson stood up from his desk near the door to address them. “Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, this is Art 2D—if your sixth period is not supposed to be Art 2D, speak so now or forever hold your peace!”

Nervous laughter sounded across the room and Mr. Peterson’s grin widened as he turned, surveying his newest crop of students here. His eyes lingered on Tabitha’s for a moment in clear recognition, but his gaze continued on across everyone without comment. He was a very handsome un-handsome man, with rugged unattractive features that became interesting to look at and maybe even attractive simply by the raw unbridled charisma he seemed to possess.

“Alright then, looks like you’re stuck with me,” Mr. Peterson clapped his hands together loud enough for nearby kids to flinch on their stools. “Alright! Easy there, partner, easy. Hah. In any case, I am Mr. Peterson, I answer to Mr. Pete, Mr. Petey, Mr. Peterson, and Staff Sergeant Peterson! For starters, let’s get the good news and the bad news out of the way. Good news! This class will not have a textbook or tests, and I do not give homework, so if you can gimme a round of applause—!”

A hearty round of applause answered out, with some kids even loudly cheering, and with a wry smile Tabitha found herself exchanging glances with Vanessa and clapping along.

“Thank you! Thank you. Then… for the bad news—” Mr. Peterson’s cheshire grin seemed to deepen with every sentence. “While you’re in my class, you have to work!” Give me some boos!”

His classroom eagerly complied with boos, moans of complaint and exaggerated groans sounding out one after another.

“Yeah, yeah, shuddup—it’s called artwork, alright?!” Mr. Peterson raised his arms in a helpless gesture. “Alright, shuddup, shuddup, settle down, now. The cheers are always the same but the boos get louder every year, hah. Kids these days!”

“Mr. Peterson?” Vanessa’s hand shot up into the air.

“Yes, little lady—what’s your name?” Mr. Peterson pointed.

“Vanessa, sir,” Vanessa was just about to continue when he cut her off.

“Great! Keep your questions to yourself,” Mr. Peterson grinned, pointing instead towards a guy at the front table with his arm raised. “You, you in the red.”

“Staff Sergeant Peterson, are we—” The boy began.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Peterson pressed.

“Uhh—Kevin, but—”

“Outstanding! Next question,” Mr. Peterson cut him off to point to someone else as more and more hands started to go up.

It appeared to be a regular comedy routine he did at the start of semesters, because Mr. Peterson eagerly called on one student after another just to brush them off or inform them—one by one—that he would not be answering questions right now. With a pout, Vanessa slumped down in her seat, crossing her arms, while Tabitha caught Clarissa putting on a weak smile.

“Okay, great! Thank you, everyone, that was illuminating. Let’s move on,” Mr. Peterson continued. “I’m sure you’re all wondering to yourself—how in the heck does this guy grade this class? Well, allow me to enlighten you! In this class, art 2D, you draw. Every day in here, you’re going to be practicing and working to improve! And, I’ll be moving around amongst you, checking on each of you and helping you out here and there however I can. You are free to talk quietly amongst yourselves at your tables during class!

“But. You do have to be working on your art! If I happen to notice one day you’re doin’ a lot of talkin,’ but not a lot of workin’? I put down a bad grade for you, and that’s that. It is very easy to do well in my class, and it is likewise very easy to do poorly!

“We have seven big tables in here, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” Mr. Peterson pointed out each of the broad surfaces in turn—Tabitha, Vanessa, and Clarissa were sharing table six with one other girl and a single guy. “You there sitting at eight, move on over to other tables. “Eight there will be the kiddy table; if one day you’re late to class, if you’re talkin’ too much, if you annoy me, or hell, if I just don’t like the way you look—you will be sitting in time out at eight for the duration of that class.”

They paused while the three people who’d happened to sit at table eight grabbed up their coats and backpacks and found other tables to squeeze into. Tabitha hadn’t noticed earlier as she was coming in with how distracting all of the art on display was, but that table was set further apart than the others and somewhat isolated—if the entrance and teacher’s desk was to one side of the room and the chalkboard was the ‘front,’ the now empty table eight was near the front while all of the other tables were arrayed around it.

“Great! Outstanding. Now, I’m gonna give you all a couple minutes to get to know your table, or switch up seats to wherever you want, I don’t care—and at the end of… let’s say five minutes—each table is gonna have a leader elected for me. What’s this leader gonna do? Your leader’ll be the one who collects assignments and puts them in the table folder for period six, they’ll be the one you go to if you need more paper, or if you need something from the store room, or if you have questions, or anything like that.

“Delegation! Delegation is key. Table leaders, you’re allowed in and out of the store room for stuff, we don’t need everyone in the whole class goin’ in and out of there all the time. You’ll also be the ones to come talk to me if your table has a problem, and if I see your table has a problem, you’re gonna be the one I ask about it. You understand me? Okay guys; go, get to it.”

“Uhhh, alright,” Tabitha started things off for their table. “We’re table six, right? I’m Tabitha, or you can call me Tabby. I um, I don’t know much of anything about drawing.”

“Vanessa. I can’t draw,” Vanessa introduced herself with a proud look. “Like, at all.”

“Stacy Campbell,” the other girl gave them a sheepish look. “Uhh, I can do stick figures? Does that count?”

“Eric,” the guy said, unable or unwilling to make eye contact with their group.

“Um, I’m Clarissa?” Clarissa said. “I can like… I can doodle, but that’s about it?”

“Eric, can you draw?” Vanessa asked in a blunt tone. “Do you want to be table leader?”

“Uhh,” Eric all but cowered. “Kinda, but… no? I don’t want to be leader.”

“Then…” Tabitha spoke up. “Vanessa has my vote?”

“Thank you,” Vanessa gave her a grateful nod. “Unless anyone else wants it…?”

“Nah,” Stacy shook her head.

“No,” Clarissa said. “No way.”

“Okay, cool,” Vanessa was satisfied, and sat up straight on her stool. “Except… like, what if we’re the dunce table, ‘cause we don’t have anyone who can even draw, here?”

“Well, we’re here to learn, right?” Tabitha shrugged. “Otherwise what’s the point?”

“I can draw some,” Eric muttered. “Just, it’s all like—you know.”

“Well, if you friggin’ want to be in charge, just say so,” Vanessa shot him a venomous glare, daring him to refute her. “Okay, mister bigshot? You have some problem with me being leader?”

“No! No,” Eric sputtered. “I just—”

“Hey, um,” Clarissa addressed Tabitha in a low voice while Vanessa continued to tease and harass—or possibly flirt—with Eric. “You know Ashlee, right? From the—from your party.”

“Oh,” Tabitha blinked in surprise. “Of course, yeah.”

“She uh,” Clarissa paused. “So, I was going by this morning and saw her and like, sat with her—just because there wasn’t anybody else to sit with, really—and she was, she was going on and on and on about you. Saying all sorts of stuff behind your back. She really doesn’t like you. Was uh, was saying you’re so fake, or that like, that you’re out to get her, or gave her the wrong times for the movie on purpose so she’d miss it and stuff. That you were saying she must have stolen that purse she gave you, or uh, that—well, all kinds of things.”

Stacy pretended not to listen in with interest as Tabitha let out a deep, heavy sigh at the news.

So, Ashlee is back in school finally. I had wondered. And, I guess it means—drama. Because, of course it does. This must just be what it’s like to be IN THE LOOP on things for once, so… yay. This is definitely new. Normally I feel like I’d just find all of this stuff out days or weeks or MONTHS later, after the fact. Yay! YAY. It’s actually not at all as nice being in the know as I imagined it would be, kinda just feels like it’s a bunch of more sudden problems to deal with. Dousing my enthusiasm for today.

“I was listening and like, nodding along with her and everything, but I want you to know I don’t like for real think that way or anything,” Clarissa hurried to clarify. “I just thought like, that someone should hear it all so that they can let you know right away. I’m not really friends with her, she was just like, going off.”

“It’s okay!” Tabitha gave her a pained smile. “I can… yeah, I can see why she’d feel that way about me. And it… it sucks, sure, but. She’s entitled to her opinions, and they’re not right or wrong or anything. I do hope I can patch things up with her—we used to be friends.”

“What’s going on?” Vanessa seemed to realize their conversation was even meatier than haranguing the lonesome boy at their table. “Someone’s talking shit about you?!”

“No, no, it’s—” Tabitha tried to say.

“She totally was,” Clarissa reported with a serious face. “Ashlee. Like, Ashlee Taylor.”

“Taylor as in like, Erica Taylor?” Vanessa was quick to connect them. “Sister? Older sister, younger sister?”

“I think younger,” Clarissa nodded. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Vanessa turned for a moment to silently read Tabitha’s expression. “So—”

“It’s not a big deal!” Tabitha assured them. “She just—”

“Wait,” Stacy remarked. “So… you’re like… that Tabitha? The one from all of the stories?”

“Stories? The one from all of the myths, the legends,” Eric added in with manufactured reverence. “Tabitha Tabby Moore. They say she—”

“You are not going to repeat slander and hearsay right in fucking front of Tabitha herself,” Vanessa stamped down on that with a furious scowl. “Seriously? Seriously?”

“I was just playing around,” Eric retorted, shrinking back. “I mean—c’mon.”

“Wow,” Stacy seemed to look at Tabitha with new eyes.

“Yeah,” Clarissa nodded with excitement. “Erica Taylor tried to murder her. I was there. Tabitha almost died.”

“It—it wasn’t that bad, and Ashlee wasn’t even involved in that, really,” Tabitha winced. “Well, not technically. Reports of my death, were, ah, were greatly exaggerated! And, well, ‘Tabby’ is… it’s just a nickname, Eric, not a middle. My middle name is actually Anne.”

“Oh, cool,” Eric stared at her. “You just… you just remembered my name…”

“I think I have heard someone say it as Tabitha Tabby Moore, before,” Stacy said. “Late last year, when all the buzz kept going around.”

“But, for real Ashlee has it out for you,” Clarissa warned. “Ashlee with her messed up eye. I thought that, if you want, I can stick by her in the mornings. Pretend to be her friend, so that you know in advance beforehand all the things she’s saying, and can like, get ahead of all of that.”

“Ooh, that’s smart,” Vanessa said. “Yeah.”

“I um, I appreciate the sentiment,” Tabitha said as what felt like a stomach ulcer crept into the pit of her tummy. “But… please, don’t. I—if I’m going to be your friend, for real friend, I… I just don’t want you to do that.”

“You don’t?” Clarissa blinked. “Okay? Okay.”

“I don’t want to ever feel like I’m using you,” Tabitha made a point to clarify. “I’m sure you feel like maybe your past uh, friends, that they were using you, and when you found yourself in trouble and it wasn’t convenient to be your friend anymore, they just weren’t your friends anymore. I don’t want that. And also—I don’t want anything like that for Ashlee. I don’t want to play games, or be part of that, or have anyone resenting anyone if I can help it.

“I think… that yeah, maybe Ashlee is lashing out, and maybe she’s gonna lash out at me, but… Ashlee really needs a friend, right now. If you can be real friends with her, then yeah, please do so. You totally have my blessing, even if that means both of you wind up… disliking me, or whatever. That’s okay. If not, if you can’t really be her friend, then I don’t want you to pretend, or uh, go along with whatever just to fish for information, or play games or anything like that. I wish I could still be friends with her, just. Things happened, and… yeah.”

“Okay,” Clarissa’s brow furrowed in confusion as several different emotions clambered and tumbled across her features but she nodded along. “Okay, yeah.”

“No, but like—you can’t just let this Ashlee girl talk shit about you,” Vanessa disagreed with a scowl. “I don’t care who she is or what she needs. Doesn’t give her the right to just… piss all over everyone else, right?”

“Yeah,” Stacy nodded along, invested in the apparent drama. “Yeah.”

“It’s whatever,” Tabitha gave them a shrug. “Last semester everyone was talking bad about me, too. I’m used to it, or—I’m getting used to it. I can’t force everyone to like me! No matter what, there’s always gonna be… yeah.”

“I can’t be friends with both of you if you hate each other,” Clarissa said.

“I don’t hate her,” Tabitha shook her head. “I do wish her and I could be friends again. But, I think maybe she just needs to vent, or needs some time. Maybe we both need some time. To sort everything out before we can even really talk to each other properly again.”

“Wow,” Stacy said.

“Nice,” Vanessa gave her a nod of approval. “Yeah, smart—acting this way, you’ll always just make this Ashlee look like she’s just being super petty all the time. Smart.”

“I’m—no, I’m being serious, here,” Tabitha winced again. “For real.”

“Well, whatever,” Vanessa waved the issue away. “Same difference. She can go choke and die, for all I care.”

“Table six,” Mr. Peterson loomed over them. “Who’s leading, here?”

“Vanessa is,” Tabitha volunteered her new friend with a gesture.

“Outstanding,” Mr. Peterson grunted. “Table six leader, follow table five leader over there on in and grab drawing boards and sheets of paper for your group. Can’t exactly draw right on these cruddy old tables, anymore.”

He rapped an enormous knuckle on their tabletop, which was indeed terribly pitted and scarred into an uneven surface from years upon years of neglect.

“Yes, drill sergeant!” Vanessa gave him a mock salute as she dropped off of her bar stool and into a standing position.

“Staff sergeant,” Mr. Peterson corrected, swatting Vanessa’s shoulder in the direction of the storage room as he moved on past them. “Go on, six, get. Table seven, what’s the holdup, here? I see a lot of arguin’ back and forth, and not a lot of electin’ a leader. Democracy, people. Democracy.”

“Tabitha—hey!” A voice from across the room called over the indistinct noise of chatter that filled the art room. “Tabitha!”

When she turned to look, it was Michael way over at table three who was trying to get her attention, both of his hands raised up. The moment he saw her looking, he grinned and pointed with both hands in the direction of the far wall behind the teacher’s desk.

“Hey, that’s you, right?” Michael yelled.

Above a large January calendar and a cork board with notices tacked up to it was an enormous blown up photograph that was all too familiar to her—the dingy colorless landscape of the road just beyond the Lower Park. A police cruiser with its lights on and door ajar, a crumpled figure laid out beside the weeds and gravel of the median. In the foreground, Tabitha saw herself running towards the officer, the frozen motion of her movement embellished across her fine blouse and the tangle of red hair trailing behind her.

“Holy shit, that’s her?!” One of the students exclaimed.

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/// Longer section today, and squeezing in just a few more characters for the school ensemble! Will be writing out ONE last section to close out the day with, wouldn't feel right if we don't at least get Tabs back with Hannah.

Will fix chapter links and update guide pages later on today, I need breakfast/lunch like now.