Who: Ophelia and Elodie When: Monday, October 23rd, late morning Where: The library at school Warnings: Some language Status: Complete
Elodie was having a difficult time staying focused on attending class. She had already incurred two after school detentions for skipping, but she didn’t really consider that to be much of a punishment. What else did she have to do then sit in a classroom after school and leave sexy messages on the desk for whoever would be planting their ass there in the morning? Elodie supposed she was meant to learn her lesson, but she hadn’t bothered with biology that morning, unsure if she was in the right mood to handle Victoria Chapman without trying to stab her in the eye with a pencil. Elodie was pretty sure she could get away with antagonizing Victoria, but their teacher probably wouldn’t let Elodie get away with blinding her. Ah well, c’est la vie and shit.
Instead of biology, Elodie walked into the library as if she was supposed to be there, thinking it was as good a place as any to relax until next period. There were a couple of empty tables, but Elodie ignored them as she walked over to a table near the large open windows looking out toward the main street near the school. There was a redhead occupying the space, so Elodie joined her, setting her bag on the table and pulling out a chair across from the girl so she could sit. She got comfortable and lifted one leg to stretch it out over the empty chair beside her.
“I fucking love the color of your hair,” Elodie told her as she opened up her bag and began to dig around inside. “Not even in a fake, bullshit way. Like, it’s really pretty. Natural?”
One of the benefits of doing well in school was not having to cram a bunch of requirement classes into her schedule. Ophelia liked having one free period a day to spend at the library, catching up on homework or studying or occasionally just reading whatever book she was working on. Or pretending to do any of those things while daydreaming about Greg. Which was what she’d been doing when some girl just helped herself to the seat across the table, a textbook and notebook open in front of her with more idle doodles than notes in it.
When the girl sat down, Ophelia looked a little startled, her brows lifting. There were plenty of other places to sit, and she definitely hadn’t expected spontaneous conversation. Especially one that led out with a foul-mouthed compliment. Not that she didn’t curse plenty herself, she just didn’t usually lead out with those words. “Uh ... thanks?” Ophelia said, then huffed a laugh, a smile crossing her face. “Yeah, it’s natural. Long line of gingers. Um, hi?” She sounded more questioning than anything, feeling like she was missing something. She’d never met this girl, had she?
"Hi," Elodie replied, grinning at Ophelia as she finally found what she was looking for in her bag. She began to tear open the nicotine patch, peeling it from the wrapper. "Did you know gingers were purposely sought out in Europe during the witch trials? Red hair and pale skin was seen as deathly and unnatural, linked to Satan and all that. That's pretty cool," she added, motioning to Ophelia's septum piercing. She then tugged up her sleeve and slapped the patch onto her forearm. "Anyway, so yeah, redheads get a lot of shit, but they're only what, like three percent of the population? Fucking rare. And you guys get a Kiss a Ginger Day. If there's a Kiss a Brunette Day, I haven't heard of it, which is pretty unfair, but whatever. You have a pretty name to go with it, right? Please tell me your name isn't Barbara or Melissa."
It felt a little weird, having some chick she didn’t know pointing out all this stuff about her appearance, no matter how complimentary. But it wasn’t all a bad-weird, just ... Ophelia was used to being mostly invisible. As invisible as a girl her size could be, anyway. And here was this girl who just looked like one of the cool kids, swooping in and saying all this random stuff and sticking something to herself. Ophelia got a little internal jolt when she mentioned the witch trials, because hello, that was a weird coincidence, but it probably didn’t mean anything. She started to wonder if she was being teased, and cast a quick glance around to look for anybody watching them, maybe Victoria Chapman and her cronies or something. There was nobody, though. “Ophelia,” she answered, giving the girl a small, unsure smile. “Ophelia McCarthy. ... and you are? Are you a senior?”
"Ha! I knew it would be something like that. Ophelia. Of course it's Ophelia." Elodie thought she heard someone 'shush' her from somewhere else in the library, but she ignored them and grinned at Ophelia. "You definitely don't look like a Melissa, thank god. Although... Ophelia fell in love with an asshole and killed herself. Between the name and the hair color, I don't know how good your odds are, but, still, it's so much better than what it could have been. Anyway, yeah, I'm a senior. And new." She framed her face with faux excitement. "I'm Elodie. I'm going to be honest, I should be in biology right now, but I'm afraid the urge to slaughter my partner would have proven to be too great, so now I'm here. I hope you don't mind if I sat here. I'm a big fan of red heads, and you got lucky."
Ophelia had the silly feeling that she ought to be offended on behalf of Melissas everywhere, but it was kind of amusing, so she wasn’t. Maybe a Melissa had done Elodie dirty in her past or something. She felt herself flush a bit about how good her ‘odds’ were, and decided she didn’t want to ask for clarification. Ophelia didn’t need something else to have anxiety about in that department. “Elodie’s an interesting name too,” she pointed out, since they were talking about names and all. She wasn’t sure yet if she felt lucky that Elodie had honed in on her. This was a lot of talking and attention she didn’t usually get at school. Ophelia huffed a little laugh and asked, “Who’s your bio partner?” The school was small enough, Ophelia probably knew them.
Elodie shrugged. "I think my parents were high when they decided on the name. It means 'foreign riches' which is bullshit since I'm not foreign and I'm not rich. But whatever." She swayed her foot back and forth on the chair and wrinkled her nose a bit at the question. "Oh, Victoria Chapman is my partner. Do you know her? If you're friends with her, I'm sorry but she's a cunt." Yes, the c-word was so super offensive, but people like Victoria deserved the description. "Most days I can handle sitting next to her for forty five minutes or whatever, but then sometimes I wake up and think... nope, no, I can't do Victoria today. And since I don't want to get expelled for strangling Miss Popular, I find somewhere else to be. Like here."
Ophelia was definitely not friends with Victoria Chapman, and it showed in the way her nose wrinkled as soon as Elodie mentioned her name. That was some shitty luck, right there. She grinned briefly when Elodie called her a cunt, because it was completely true. Sebastian might have been tolerant of her because he was Mr. Cool Kid, but Ophelia loathed that girl. “Oh I know her,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “I can’t stand her. She’s only a cunt, like, every minute she’s awake. So I don’t blame you. Welcome to the avoidance corner of the library.” Ophelia made a sweeping gesture around them and smirked.
Elodie's grin widened with Ophelia not only agreed with her, but used the dreaded c-word as well. She was pretty sure Victoria would say the same thing about Elodie, and probably had, but that was okay. A little disdain toward others never hurt anybody, right? "It's not bad," she said, of the library. “I mean, there's not much to do, but I'm less likely to get caught ditching class here than I am if I was outside. It doesn't seem like there's a lot of people who like to skip out, which is really unfortunate. It feels like the last couple of weeks of nice weather, and we're spending it in school." Elodie made a face. "Doesn't anyone have senioritis here, or whatever disease they call it?"
‘Cunt’ wasn’t Ophelia’s super favorite word or anything, it occasionally made her cringe, but in this case it was absolutely appropriate. Victoria Chapman was the worst. And at least the new girl saw that without having to be drawn into all those people’s drama before she learned. But Elodie looked cool and sounded pretty sharp, so maybe that wasn’t too surprising. “I’ve heard of a few who just don't bother coming much,” she said, giving a shrug. “But I’m a junior, so I dunno a lot of them like, personally, or where they go or whatever. My brother’s a senior, but he’s way too good to skip. And they might kick him off the team for it.” Ophelia wasn’t in the habit of ditching class either, but she didn’t really want to say that in front of this cool girl who’d taken a weird interest in her.
"Well hey, I'm good too but I like to skip," Elodie said with mock offense. She probably wasn't good in any sense of the word, but the opportunity was there to tease Ophelia, so she had to take it. Elodie was well aware of the type who didn't like to come to school much. But even the goody two shoes had to ditch out once in awhile, right? Senior Skip Days and all that stupid shit. "But I'm also not involved in team sports, so I get it. Who's your brother? Maybe I have a class with him." She hoped he was named something like Puck or Othello, though if he was, Elodie would have probably definitely heard of him.
Ophelia hadn’t meant good in that way, more in a goody two shoes way -- which was true; she adored her brother, but it was true -- and she looked slightly appalled for a second until she realized Elodie was probably poking fun. She didn’t seem like a girl who gave a shit about being good. Especially since she was openly calling Victoria Chapman a cunt and all. “Sebastian McCarthy,” she answered with a tiny smile. “If you have a thing for redheads, you’ve probably seen him.” Ophelia made a vague gesture at her hair and shrugged. “Sometimes people think we’re twins, but he’s just barely a year older than me.” And way more athletically built, but Ophelia didn’t want to get into that.
Her lips parted in recognition when Ophelia mentioned the red hair. "Oh, right. God, I should've known. The ginger named Sebastian. Your mom's got a thing for Shakespeare, huh? I see the resemblance now." And he so wasn't anyone Elodie could ever imagine talking to, let alone hanging out with. He was probably nice and all, but Elodie knew the type. And he was probably friends with Vicunty Chapman. "We're in history together, but I can't say I've ever talked to him. He seems to have quite a crowd around him most of the time."
Ophelia was well read enough to know that their names came from Shakespeare, even if she’d never read Hamlet or Twelfth Night. Maybe she would get around to it someday, but it was enough to know they carried literature with them all the time, in a way. Ophelia liked it. She laughed softly at what Elodie said and nodded as she tucked some hair behind her ear. “Yeah, that’s Sebastian,” she said with some rueful affection. “He got all the popularity genes. He’s a good person though, just ... y’know, a dumb boy sometimes. Like all of them.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Do you have any siblings or anything?” Ugh, she was bad at this small talk thing.
Elodie snorted. Dumb boys. Like that ever changed. They became dumb fucking men too. "Oh, I've got siblings all over the goddamn place," Elodie said simply. "None of them here though, which is really fortunate for like, everyone. Because they're so not good people." Small talk could really be painful sometimes, which was why it was fun to embellish a little to make the small talk big talk. She began to dig around in her bag again, focused on finding something. "My older brother is a serial killer they arrested in Utah. We had to move here from New York to get away from being harassed. So much drama." Elodie pulled out her pack of cigarettes and eyed Ophelia. "Do you smoke?"
Ophelia’s brows went up and her eyes widened a bit. Her brother was a serial killer? What the hell? Though she supposed those people had to have family connections, it was just something she’d never really thought about. “Wow, that’s ... fucked up,” she said, then shook her head. “No.” Well, she did smoke a bit of pot now and then, but she doubted that was what Elodie had in her cigarette pack. And smoking at school seemed like a dumb idea anyway. Part of her kind of hoped that meant Elodie would be stepping out for a smoke break and wander off again so Ophelia could get back to her book, but another part was kind of fascinated with the girl. Asking about who and how her brother had killed people seemed rude though, so she didn’t.
"Oh, for sure," Elodie said, pulling a cigarette out of her pack to slip behind her ear. "It was totally fucked up. It was like, twelve women, I think? That they've found anyway. We hadn't seen him in years and didn't even know what he had been doing until the cops called my mom. I think I just come from bad genes. Rotten ones." She slipped the cigarette pack back into her bag, her tone still casual, as if they were talking about history homework or something. "But you know what? I think everyone's family has some hidden deep dark secret in it somewhere. Some crazy history or creepy relative. People like... oh what was that show back in the like, seventies? The Waltons? Leave it to Beaver? Those fucking families do not exist, right?"
“Twelve?” Ophelia couldn’t help but echo with a bit of shocked incredulity. She had a passing interest in serial killers, and twelve dead women in Utah didn’t ring any bells, but she wasn’t completely up on current news, so maybe it hadn’t been that long ago. Elodie had just moved here, after all. The rest of it had made a bit of color come up in her cheeks, because her family sure had some crazy history. Ophelia knew she didn’t even know about it all. “You’re probably right, though. And I think like ... the families that put the most work into looking perfectly normal are hiding the darkest shit.” It was cynical, probably, but Ophelia had been around pretty well-off people all of her life, and some of them were just awful.
“That’s exactly it,” Elodie exclaimed. “Normal families are probably the most dysfunctional. It’s like when they said it’s always the quiet ones. But I’m just fucking with you. My brother isn’t a serial killer. He’s off at college. And he’s the only sibling I have. I like you so I’ll tell you right now that it’s probably smart just to take everything I say with a grain of salt. I’ve been told I lie a lot and I don’t know fucking why.” She shrugged and pulled the cigarette from behind her ear to roll it between her fingers. “My life is pretty boring and small talk can be torture. I don’t know if I can have the ‘hey I’m the new kid’ conversation again. Hey, what’s your name, where are you from, why’d you move here, blah blah. Nobody really cares.”
Ophelia blushed fiercely, immediately feeling stupid that she’d believed that Elodie’s brother was a serial killer. It probably showed how sheltered she was. But she was also kind of chuffed that the girl liked her. Maybe that was just because of her hair or she didn’t like Victoria Chapman or something, but it was still nice to hear. She guessed she understood where Elodie was coming from, but that was kind of a weird way to go about life, Ophelia thought, if one really wanted to make friends. Maybe Elodie didn’t. “All right then ... duly noted, I guess,” she said with a wan little smile. She tucked her hair behind her ear again and shrugged. “I hate small talk too. So I won’t ask you any dumb questions.” Ophelia wasn’t positive she could think of good ones to ask, or interesting topics, she wasn’t really used to talking to people she didn’t know.
"It depends on what you consider dumb questions," Elodie pointed out. She could see how pink Ophelia's face was getting, and it made Elodie glad that she wasn't a redhead. "I probably ask dumb questions all the time. Or give dumb answers to questions, obviously. But, you know, I do keep asking people what there is to do around here. I get some different answers. Like, this girl Ruby told me about some parties, and then Victoria told me to go get lost in a tunnel but I figure there's got to something somewhere in between. What do you like to do?"
That was really one of the worst questions Elodie could’ve asked her, Ophelia hated that one. Her answers were always so boring. “Oh um ... I mean, I’m kind of a huge nerd, so I stay at home and read a lot. Garden. Go for walks on the beach. Play video games.” She sounded apologetic about it, those were mostly old-lady hobbies, but Ophelia really hadn’t had much exposure to regular teenage shenanigans. “I hear about parties a lot though, pretty much every weekend, somebody’s doing something. The Orion plays fun old movies a lot of the time, it’s all horror-themed this month. I heard there’s a new karaoke place? I dunno ... what are you into?”
It sounded like Ophelia wasn't as social as her big brother. Not that it bothered Elodie. She did a lot of shit by herself and was happy enough. But Ophelia's answers were better than some of the others she'd heard. "Are you a nerd because you read, or are you a nerd because of what you read?" Elodie asked, studying Ophelia. "I mean, there are stats that prove people who read a lot are more successful, right? So whoever thinks you're a nerd for it will be the people working for you in the future. The word gets a bad rep. I don't read a lot, but I think that's 'cause I get distracted easily. Like, I read a paragraph then my brain goes off somewhere else and I end up reading the paragraph a bazillion times. It took me like, six months to finish Pet Sematary. But, I don't know what I'm into here yet. I have to figure out what I can actually get away with, since this place is much smaller than Brooklyn. I did hear there's a Halloween party this weekend. You're not going to that?"
Considering the way Elodie just seemed to stream-of-consciousness talk, Ophelia wasn’t terribly surprised that she was easily distractible. It seemed like something somebody with ADD did or something. Not that she was trying to armchair diagnose this chick or anything. Who knew what was really going on in her head. “Probably both,” she said with a small laugh. “I read a lot, and a lot of it is nerdy shit. And nerds can totally be successful, so I guess that makes sense.” Ophelia shrugged. Most of the time she didn’t mind being a nerd, she owned it. It was who she was and what she liked, so who cared what other people thought, right? Well ... she did, but she was trying to learn not to. “I’m in band too, so that’s extra nerd points. But uh ... yeah, I’m sure it’s way different here than in Brooklyn. Probably pretty boring. The only Halloween party I heard about is at Victoria’s house, so ... no.” Ophelia doubted she was actually invited anyway. Even when some of those people said ‘everyone welcome,’ they didn’t really mean everyone.
Elodie's grin widened when Ophelia admitted to being in band. Yeah, that was definitely nerdy, although she had heard plenty of not-so-nerdy stories about band geeks. She considered the fact that the Halloween party would be held at Victoria's house, then decided she didn't care. "That... might actually be fun," she said after a moment of thought. "She hates me, which means I have to put in an appearance. See if I can get away with drinking her alcohol without her catching me. My weekend is set. Excellent." Elodie seemed to shift her attention rather swiftly as her eyes ticked back to Ophelia's face. "What about a boy? Girl? Do you have anyone you like to make out with, randomly or not so randomly? I mean, fuck, that hair and the nose ring. I'm not into girls, I don't think, but you're making me wonder."
Ophelia’s eyebrows lifted again when Elodie decided to go to the party because it was at Victoria’s place. She knew she would be massively uncomfortable and hate every minute, so she didn’t want to go, but maybe Elodie was the type to enjoy the antagonism. If she was, Victoria would probably deliver. The sudden question -- and compliment? -- took Ophelia completely off guard, and her blush came back with a vengeance, from the roots of her hair down her neck. “Ohmygod,” she breathed before she could stop herself, and let out an unsteady laugh right after, looking away. “Um ... no. I mean, I don’t ... have anybody. Boy or girl. Yet. No uh ... no makeouts.” She slouched a little further in her seat, re-tucking her hair behind her ear yet again.
Oh, Elodie absolutely enjoyed antagonism. It was one of her most favorite things in the whole world, honestly. Especially when she had someone who rose so easily to the bait like Victoria. The way Ophelia's face turned pink distracted Elodie and amused her. Ah, the curse of being a redhead. "Don't be embarrassed," she told her. "It's just a question. I just figured that was something else to do here when someone got bored. Find someone and make out for awhile. It's pretty fun, if they know what they're doing. I mean, dating in high school seems kind of pointless, but there's nothing wrong with casual enjoyment, or whatever. But you're definitely hot, and I give you a lot of points for the piercings. I guarantee some guy here has jerked off to it. For real." Elodie popped her cigarette between her lips and grabbed her bag. "You sure you don't want to come outside and have a smoke with me?"
It might have been just a question to Elodie, but to a shy, awkward girl who’d never even been kissed, it was completely embarrassing. Especially since she’d been daydreaming about kissing somebody in particular before Elodie sat down. What would Greg even do if Ophelia just walked up to him and asked if he wanted to make out? Laugh at her, probably. Her eyes widened further at the suggestion that some guy had masturbated to her. That seemed impossible, she was a big moose of a girl, and even her hair and septum ring couldn’t offset that. “I mean, I’m sure you can find someone,” she started to mumble. There were probably guys already jerking it over Elodie. “I can’t, I’ve ... got a lot,” Ophelia answered, gesturing at the homework in front of her that she hadn’t been doing. Really, she just needed a break from all of the blushing and feeling like the most awkward, lamest person in the world.
"Well, yeah I can find someone. Guys aren't really that picky if the promise of busting their nut is in the cards," Elodie said with a laugh. She moved to stand up and picked up her bag, her cigarette bouncing between her lips as she spoke. She had a couple minutes before the bell rang, which would be enough time to at least get half of the cigarette finished. "It's okay, Ophelia. Get your homework done. Maybe next time? Because I can only take biology in small doses, so leave a chair open for me." She flung her bag onto her shoulder. "I'll try not to make you turn that color red next time."
‘Busting their nut’ was a super vulgar way to put it, and Ophelia’s blush deepened even more. Did all makeouts have to involve orgasms? God, that was trashy, to think about it that way. Some of the ‘be a lady’ shame that had been taught to her since birth flared up, and she couldn’t help but think about it in Greg terms some more. Had he busted a nut with a lot of girls? Easy girls? He was cute and personable and a football player, so of course he probably had. Why would he want her after all that? She had zero experience with sex, and just the thought of kissing made her heart race, there was no way she would be good at getting a guy off. Of course he wouldn’t want to wait for her to catch up, if he ever had a glimmer of interest at all, and ugh, Ophelia wanted to sink through the floor and into the earth for a few million years right then. “Maybe next time,” she told Elodie with a weak smile. “Enjoy your smoke.”
Elodie occasionally found joy in making out with a guy where it led to nothing more than kisses and some hot groping. But that was only if the guy actually knew how to kiss, and how to grope. Not a lot of them did, sadly. She had already guessed based on Ophelia's embarrassingly red face that the girl was either a virgin, or not used to someone speaking so bluntly about certain things. Elodie was guessing it was the virgin thing, which was totally fine by her. Some people were super picky about sex. Nothing wrong with that. "See ya." Elodie saluted Ophelia as she started to walk off, ready for a smoke and a few seconds of silence before she headed off to her next, Victoria-free class.