RE: Trailer Trash 3 pt 7 (Patreon)

(pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6)

   Hormones. It’s just... teenage hormones, Tabitha fought to school her face into proper composure. She hadn’t felt so completely betrayed by her own body since first transmigrating back into the past. He’s just a kid. A cute kid, sure. But he’s young. Waaay too young. Focus.

   “Hi,” Matthew directed a potent smile her way, and Tabitha’s wits seemed to scatter in every direction like they were scurrying away from a sudden spotlight. “Tabitha? I think you met my dad a couple days ago—Officer Williams? He was asking me about you.”

   “Yeah. Uh, whuh-what did you tell him?” Tabitha blurted out anxiously... completely embarrassing herself. Alicia and Elena both turned heads to look at her with interest, and she felt her cheeks go completely red. No, no no no no this isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

   “Hah,” Matthew let out a good-natured laugh. “I said you had all kinds of rumors goin’ around, but I didn’t know what to believe since I hadn’t met you myself. My name’s Matt—but, everyone calls me Matthew, for some stupid reason.”

   “There’s already too many Matts,” Casey chuckled, not looking up as she flipped through Alicia’s second sketchbook in awe. “If we get another one after you, we’re just gonna call him ‘Phew.’”

   “I’ll call you Matthew, then,” Tabitha decided, just barely stopping herself from rising out of her seat to shake his hand. High-schoolers don’t do that! “Mrs. Macintire said she might call your dad, um, about driving me out to Louisville this Sunday…?”

   “Yeah!” Matthew nodded. “She did, my dad works a shift Sunday, though.”

   “You could take her, Matthew,” Elena chimed in helpfully. “You just got your license, and everything...”

   “Sorry, no way,” Matthew gave them a sheepish smile. “I’ve had it for like, just a couple weeks. Not super comfortable driving I-65 on my own, yet.”

   “Oh, that’s fine,” Tabitha blushed. “I don’t want to impose, or anything.”

   Inwardly, she was impressed at his candor—he was uncharacteristically up front about his shortcomings, for a high-schooler. Wouldn’t most boys fresh into their license be eager to show off? Matthew seemed laid-back and mature in a way that had her start going moon-eyed all over again. It doesn’t help that he’s a little, um. Easy on the eyes, either…

   “Hah, impose?” Matthew shook his head. “Naw, Mr. Macintire’s practically family—he used to go with us on our hunting trips, back when I was, oh… twelve? Thirteen? So, after what you did—”

   “I didn’t do much at all,” Tabitha admitted, embarrassed. “Alicia was there, too. All we did was try to stop the bleeding.”

   “She’s lying. She did everything,” Alicia sold her out without compunction, grinning widely. “She called it in, and was putting pressure on it like, right away, while I was just standing there bawling like an idiot.”

   “Y-you were not!” Tabitha argued, giving Alicia an incredulous look. Alicia!

   “Well, thank you,” Matthew said, letting out a slow breath. “Seriously. You’re some kind of hero, you did a great thing. Don’t know if you knew, but Mr. Macintire has a daughter—Hannah—she’s just seven years old. We’ve been looking after her while they’re both up in Louisville, and I’m really, really glad I didn’t have to give her any bad news.”

   “...Oh,” Tabitha replied dumbly, feeling her eyes water.

   “If it’s cool with you, my Mom’ll swing by your neighborhood this Sunday, take both you and Hannah up to Louisville to visit,” Matthew explained. “You’re living right there in Sunset Estates?”

   “Yeah! It’s, uh. Yeah,” Tabitha nodded, fighting back tears as she found herself flooded with emotion. “Sorry, I—sorry.”

   “Uhh—you okay?” Casey was the only one that seemed surprised.

   “Just give her a minute,” Elena scolded the art club girl. “Are you okay, Tabby?”

   Tabitha nodded quickly while hiding her face behind her hands, not trusting herself to give an answer without choking up.

   She’d never heard a thing about Officer Macintire having a daughter. Somehow, if felt like that changed everything. An unknown crisis, averted by bare inches—this little girl Hannah’s entire world must have come crashing down in that last life, without Tabitha ever being any the wiser. She felt the knife of guilt in her heart lingering more closely now than ever. Hannah. Her name’s Hannah.

   “Sorry, I should probably leave you girls be,” Matthew said, obviously discomforted by Tabitha’s sudden tears. “Just wanted to let you know. You should swing by the Quad some lunch and sit with us sometime, at least put all the rumors to rest. Everyone’s dyin’ to meet you.”

   “Thanks,” Elena spoke up on Tabitha’s behalf. “We’ll do that.”

   “Nice to meet you,” Alicia added.

   “Yeah,” Matthew nodded. “Alicia, right? Saw you on the news, too.”

   “Did you see her freaking art?” Casey exclaimed, holding up one of Alicia’s portfolios. “She’s like, half pro.”

   “Cool, cool,” Matthew paused. “Join us in art club, we meet on Fridays. You do any photography?”

   “I—uh, oh, wow!” Alicia’s eyes went wide, and she slapped her forehead. “I don’t. Normally. But, on the day of the shooting, I had a camera with me. I completely forgot about it with all the… Tabby stuff going on.”

   “Were you taking pictures?” Elena pressed.

   “I was,” Alicia revealed. “I did. Took two right at the crime scene, like, literally just moments after it happened. Shot of Tabby running towards the officer. The one’s probably blurry, but the other one should be… decent? Maybe?”

   “How do you forget something like that?” Elena asked in disbelief.

   “This has all been a lot to deal with, okay?” Alicia shot a scowl at Elena. “I haven’t been sleeping at all.”

   “Where’s the camera now?” Casey clapped the sketchbook closed and jolted up to her feet. “If we tell Mr. Peterson, he can develop it right in the art room right away. You said the crime scene? Like right there at the parking lot shooting? This is big.”

   “Um. Still in my bag, I think,” Alicia answered. “I left it in class. Tabby and I were there when the first officer got shot, not the big parking lot shooting.”

   “The first officer?” Casey didn’t quite seem to be following.

   “With your and Tabby’s permission,” Elena jumped in, “the Channel Seven people’ll probably pay big bucks for that. I can have my Mom get in touch with them.”

   “First thing’s first—as acting treasurer, I hereby induct thee into the hallowed ranks of the Springton High Art Club,” Casey said solemnly, making the motions of knighting Alicia shoulder and shoulder with the girl’s own sketchbook before passing it back to her. “Ten bucks if you want an art club shirt. C’mon, let’s go see if we can grab your bag and get to Mr. Peterson before lunch is over.”

   “O-okay,” Alicia agreed, rising out of her seat.

   “Guys, guys,” Matthew chided them, watching as Tabitha blearily wiped her eyes. “Slow down, give her a moment.”

   “It’s fine, I’m fine,” Tabitha sniffed and gave Matthew an appreciative smile. “Sorry. Go for it, yeah. I’m just gonna sit here for a bit. Do your thing, Alicia—I didn’t even realize you took a picture.”

   “I forgot,” Alicia admitted, wincing. “Sorry.”

   Casey pulled Alicia along with her out of the library with Matthew in tow, who waved a casual goodbye, finally leaving a flustered Tabitha sitting alone together with Elena at the library table.

   “Well.” Elena crossed her arms in front of herself, looking a little too pleased at Tabitha’s guilty expression. “You’re definitely not gay. What are you doing this Saturday?”

*     *     *

   “I have to say, I love your outfit, Tabitha!” Mrs. Seelbaugh praised, turning from where she sat in the driver’s seat for a moment to give the redhead a once-over. Elena’s mother was steering their silvery-white family minivan across town towards the apartment where Tabitha’s grandmother lived; Elena and Tabby would be looking after Tabitha’s cousins for the day. “Where did you find that top?!”

   “My grandma helps me put them together,” Tabitha answered respectfully. “From thrift store dresses.”

   “You’re kidding!” Mrs. Seelbaugh exclaimed, chancing another quick glance away from the road back towards Tabitha’s attire. “From the thrift store right here in town?”

   “Yes, Ma’am.”

   “I’m a Mom, not a Ma’am,” Mrs. Seelbaugh chided playfully.

   “Wait—Tabitha, even the one you’re wearing right now?” Elena couldn’t help but twist from the passenger’s seat to scrutinize her pretty new friend.

   “This was originally a prom dress,” Tabitha explained. “We just removed the cups, stitched it overtop a plain white shirt, and then hemmed them together at the waist.

   Blinking in disbelief at the ensemble for a moment, Elena could actually see it. What looked at first glance to be an extraordinarily well fitted vest and shirt combination... was actually just the upper portion of a black A-line prom dress—one with an extraordinarily plunging neckline—on top of a long-sleeved white shirt. Once the secret was revealed, she couldn’t unsee it.

   “That’s amazing,” Elena found herself blurting out. “Are you planning on selling them?”

   “Selling them?” Tabitha shook her head. “Maybe someday, I know we’ll need the money. For now, it’s just something I love doing with my Grandma Laurie.”

   “That’s so sweet!” Mrs. Seelbaugh said with a smile, sparing Elena a meaningful look.

   Yeah... I want in on that, Elena thought with a small grin. What teenage girl DOESN’T dream of launching their own fashion line? Even the business model is perfect! The thrift store material costs are negligible in the face of the price tags we can put on these.

   For an awkward moment, she’d already begun to mentally exclude her new friend Tabitha from her new plan to model her own business out of these blouses. With a pang of guilt, she murdered those ambitions while they were still in the cradle—she actually liked Tabitha. The girl was different, interesting. She was transparent emotionally in a manner no teen should be, and yet in other ways completely, utterly unfathomable. She was, to coin one of her mother’s favorite phrases, a riddle, wrapped up in a mystery, inside an enigma. 

   “I want to try making one,” Elena decided to admit. “I really love your tops.”

   Besides, that’s not that kind of friend I want to be. If she continued to foster another such mercenary mindset—one based loosely on coinciding mutual interest alone—it would be her situation with Carrie all over again. Elena wanted beautiful friendships built on love and trust, ones that she’d be able to look back on fondly for the rest of her life. But, at the same time, it was difficult for her personally to set aside her competitive nature and pragmatic cynicism to make those happen properly.

   When she’d talked it over with her Mom, she’d been blanketed with assurances that she was perfectly normal, that friendships weren’t picture-perfect in the way television made them out to be, and that in no time at all she’d find close friends and confidants again to replace the middle school ones she’d grown away from. She knew her mother was right—her Mom was always right—but at the same time... something about the answer didn’t completely satisfy.

   “We can show you how we do it, if you’d like—the next time we visit,” Tabitha offered. “I was hoping we could spend most of this time with my cousins. I’m really worried about them.”

   “How old are your cousins?” Elena asked. Her growing anticipation for the afternoon fell a good deal at being reminded about the cousins. Next time, I suppose. “Grade school, or middle school?”

   “Grade school,” Tabitha answered. “Sam’s the oldest, he’s in fourth grade.”

   So it’s babysitting little kids, Elena tried to swallow down her disappointment. 

    Their budding friendship was going swimmingly, however, and Elena at least felt relieved to finally be on an organized outing again with someone again. She hadn’t done anything important with a friend since the Six Flags trip with Carrie in the middle of summer—now, it felt like she had to blot out those mistakes by making as many new, better memories as she could.

    This is okay. It doesn’t have to be anything huge right at first, Elena thought, striving to focus on the positive. Babysitting’s a perfectly normal thing for girls our age to do—maybe we’ll talk, find something cool to bond over. That’s what matters—even if it’s not big and exciting.

   Elena smiled faintly to herself as she watched the scenery pass by her window, mercifully oblivious to what she was about to experience.

(pt 8)

/// I'm about 1800 words into the final Together at Last section, but it's probably going to take me more than today to sort it out the way I like it. If I can't get it just right, I may start in on the next Eating Out teaser instead, trying to keep on a roll with my writing.