RE: Trailer Trash 56, 56 pt 4 (Patreon)

Her second day going back to school didn’t require nearly as much attention to detail and preparation—it seemed almost silly spending time obsessing over her outfit, when it would be hidden beneath a bulky jacket most of the time anyways. Tabitha stared at tired eyes in the mirror as she brushed and arranged her hair, and then carefully turned her face this way and that searching for blemishes. Her face was free of acne for now, but her pale skin was less flawless white jade and more hey, I look kinda sickly. Close scrutiny made the blue veins just beneath the skin at her temples seem stark and obvious, and she was for sure going to have to do something about the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Tabitha was no stranger to applying makeup, but it also wasn’t an everyday routine for her, causing her to flinch and wince as cold color-correcting concealer was dabbed in beneath her eyes and blended in. Yesterday, a full twenty minutes had been spent poring over every detail in the mirror so that she looked her best. Today, she just wanted to hurry to hide the obvious flaws so that no one would comment on how tired she looked. And, it’s all Bobby’s fault!

The finer details of her dream last night slipped through her fingers and vanished into obscurity when she tried to grasp them now, but she did remember the basic gist of it—her and Bobby were going to kiss, and then they didn’t. It was easy for Tabitha to chalk this one up to a combination of yesterday’s teasing and overthinking and that vague, formless but ever-present fear of missing out shaping her subconscious thoughts in sleep. In her dream they had been searching and searching for just the right spot for a first kiss, and before she knew it, the moment was gone. The chances were gone. Bobby was gone.

The moral is, I guess—live life in the moment? Tabitha scoffed at herself in the mirror. Oh, PLEASE. I don’t think so. There’s something to be said for waiting on things that never come, the whole mindset that the story of my life starts TOMORROW and never today, or that I was looking forward to—or living in fear of—something that was just never going to happen unless I MADE it happen. Yeah, okay. My past experience is proof enough of that.

Tabitha performed a scowl that turned into a pout, and then schooled her expression into a shy smile, and then a big one.

But—there’s absolutely no way that taking things in the opposite direction towards the other extreme is the answer! I don’t really know for sure how I feel about Bobby, except that I’m drawn to and also terrified of having feelings for Bobby. I’m making steady progress on myself, I’m still adapting and making major strides and growing into who I think I want to be. I don’t need to be rash or impulsive just for fear of missing out on things!

She checked her teeth in the mirror, then searched again for imperfections that might require a touch-up, and then put on her game face.

Her prior life as an introvert had given her what she liked to think of as resting blankface. She had been so used to having her guard up when she was around other people and showing nothing at all that it actually became difficult to properly display expressions when she intended to—they seemed to come out halfway rather than fully-formed. A weak half-smile when she meant to have a big positive smile on. A puzzled, thoughtful look instead of a face intended to look stern or cross or illustrate that she was getting upset.

Time with her cousins and then Hannah had helped enormously, because Tabitha tended to try to exaggerate her expressions, her body language, and her manner of speech around them when she could. Around her peers it was still a struggle to keep from being on guard or having her hackles up and reverting to blankface, and in the presence of adults Tabitha thought she might as well have been faking it or putting on an act. Was that normal? For a teenager? She thought it might be.

Still, as cringe and embarrassing as it sounds, practicing in the mirror DOES help, Tabitha told herself. Helps ingrain the FEELING of a full smile, or a grin, or any of the faces I need to put on. So that I’m not THINKING that I’m giving a look at 100% while really only actually putting up a dull kind of 60% one that’s hard for other people to read. It’s fine when I’m with my friends, with people I’m comfortable with. But, it’s just SO HARD presenting myself ‘normally’ the same way to others outside of that.

There didn’t seem to be some personal social milestone that flipped a mental switch for her and made acting extroverted easy.

Or, at least not yet! Tabitha thought to herself. Maybe someday, though. I’m sure if and when it happens, I won’t even notice the change until after the fact.

She dressed in the ‘angelic’ bridesmaid blouse and white jeans ensemble, which had been her previous favorite outfit—her current favorite outfit was the new ‘librarian chic’ blouse with high-waisted jeans. Which Tabitha intended to keep in reserve for a warmer school day, where she could go without a winter coat and hoodie and properly show it off. Yesterday had seen her long-sleeved A-line winter dress which was modest and sensible, but because it had been hidden beneath layers just about the whole day, she felt like she hadn’t debuted that look at school just yet.

Which leaves—a couple of ‘sporty’ outfits, like the prom dress to faux vest one, and then the skater boi one which I haven’t worn in front of anybody really, yet, Tabitha thought, mentally cataloging all of her options.

The thing was, there weren’t all that many options—when leaving the trailer park she’d shoved only her favorites and a couple t-shirts in her bag. Most of what she had now was new. The wider array of bland, boring tops and sweatpants and such which she thought of being from ‘her past childhood’ had been left behind, and by comparison just about everything she wore now was very dressy. Tabitha was going to need to buy a new outfit for when she was active at school for her Personal Fitness class, because her old trashy running outfit wasn’t something she could wear in front of the teenage girl clique.

Agghh! Tabitha wanted to punch her pillow again. Which means MORE SHOPPING. When I already feel like we’ve been to K-Mart and the Sandboro mall more times in the past month or two than I’d gone in MY ENTIRE PREVIOUS LIFE. I’m getting comfortable with it, and the thought of getting comfortable with shopping all the time makes me UNCOMFORTABLE!

Tabitha shouldered her book bag, took one last trip into the bathroom to check her appearance, and then quietly went on down the hall through the living room. The timing of her school day didn’t match up well with Mrs. Macintire leaving for work, and Hannah wouldn’t need to wake up and start her day for almost another hour. A single bread slice was put in the toaster—Tabitha double checked to ensure the toasting dial wasn’t set at incinerate, which remained Officer Macintire’s preference.

Hannah’s insulated fabric lunchbox was open and airing out overnight on the counter as per usual, so Tabitha checked to see that it didn’t need wiping clean, then began to fill it. A Capri-Sun drink, a Fruit-by-the-Foot rolled gummy pack, a very small ziplock of baby carrots, and then today Hannah’s sandwich would be turkey and cheese, cut at a diagonal, and with the crusts cut off.

Which actually seems pretty good, Tabitha admired it, popping the cut-off bread crusts into her mouth as she wrapped the sandwich for Hannah snug in a wax paper sheet and then fit it into the lunchbox. Think I’ll have a turkey sandwich myself, after school.

Hannah’s school lunch went into the fridge, with the top of the lunchbox propped open so that the contents would stay cool. Then, Tabitha collected her toast, spoiled herself with a very small glass of orange juice—a guilty pleasure that she did not remember enjoying often back at the Moore household—and got ready to leave. The compulsion to check for the time on her bracelet PC or smartphone had been suppressed in the past half-year, and so a confirming glance at the VCR’s digital readout was enough. Tabitha slipped on her shoes, tied then tight, and then drew the oversized hoodie on over her head and donned the camouflage winter coat.

Oh, shit! Tabitha swore, jolting her hand back from the doorknob in a fluster. Duh, Tabitha. Don’t forget the towel!

Cursing and grumbling to herself as quietly as she could, Tabitha hurried back down the hallway to her room to retrieve the new Coca Cola beach towel.

*     *     *

“Uh, hey,” This time one of the other teens at the bus stop seemed to notice her presence. “Sorry if this is weird, but—you’re Tabitha, right?”

“I am,” Tabitha put on the composed friendly but not TOO friendly smile she had practiced and pulled her good hand out of her coat pocket to offer it. “You are—?”

“Uh, David,” The guy said, somewhat clasping her hand and then releasing it rather than performing anything like a handshake. “Did you just move here? To this neighborhood, I mean.”

“Kind of, yeah,” Tabitha confirmed.

“Cool, cool,” David nodded.

He didn’t appear to think up anything else to say, and with the other two kids waiting at the curb just sort of watching but not volunteering to introduce themselves or speak up, Tabitha couldn’t think of anything to say, either. They waited another awkward couple of minutes out in the cold for the bus to arrive, and by the time it showed up and they filed up onto it, Tabitha found that she had forgotten the guy’s name. Dave? James? Drew? Something like that. Damnit, Tabitha, this is what happens when you’re not focusing.

“Sup, Tabby,” Gary called.

“Sup, Gary,” Tabitha shot back in turn, offering him a lopsided smirk instead of a smile—her normal smiles weren’t the right temperature to use with Gary. “Did you save me a seat?”

“Yeah, got one for right there,” Gary’s hand holding the ball pointed a finger across from him. “Saved it for you.”

“Thanks, G,” Tabitha shuffled forward as the people in front of her found places to sit and then dropped into the offered empty bench.

That was it.

No one seemed particularly in the mood for conversation today, and the bus rumbled on through its route with its passengers mostly silent. The flavor of silence seemed to be sleepy and annoyed rather than tense and brooding, so Tabitha kept to herself and looked out the window. Driveways, hedges, and mailboxes drifted by at a sedate pace as they traversed the neighborhood, and she wondered why she had been psyching herself up for difficult conversation, clever comebacks, and witty retorts.

I feel like I uh, mentally shift myself into a higher gear to try to be extroverted, Tabitha wanted to laugh at herself. But, then sometimes it’s just—yeah, like this. Should I have had something interesting to talk about prepared and ready, should I have been initiating dialogue? Maybe I should think of something, for days like this. Today, though? Just kind of want to roll with it, and have a chill day. I’m tired! Bobby’s fault. As the great Hank Hill once said—DAMNIT, BOBBY.

( Previous, 56 pt 3 | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, To be Continued... )

/// So! These kind of posts are deceptively complex, because when you want to properly ingrain a 'routine' into reader's minds you're supposed to deliver things in threes. Once is an isolated incident, twice is a comparison, three times is a pattern, that kind of thing. Basically, I'm gearing up for some timeskips, which is a thing I normally don't do with my writing, and I want to have the idea of Tabitha's typical schoolday established first before I do that.

For her first school day I tried to focus Tabitha's attention on new details, for her second she's going through similar motions but her mind is in different places. Also obviously each of the scene segments will be more brief, because we've already been to the bus stop with Tabitha, and we've already rode on the bus with Tabitha and et cetera.

There is absolutely a limit with how much slice of life I can get away with sneaking into the text, and I realize sometimes I push that boundary with "wait, nothing super substantial happened" sections like this. I swear they ARE necessary for the feel of the overall chapter this will be a part of, though. But also, if as a reader you're frustrated or getting bored—trust me, I get it. I too was a big Tori Transmigrated fan and swallowed disappointment sometimes when a post was burritos and abstract city planning or logistics, rather than a spicy 'Alessa Hart gets faceslapped' post.

I think maybe two more sections will finish out chapter 56! As of this morning with this, volume 2 of RE: Trailer Trash has reached two hundred thousand words, and I'm marking its completion at 85%.