RATING: R for mildly nasty language.
DISCLAIMER, NOTES: See part 1.
Journal entry #3. March 5, 2001.
My name is Liz Parker, and I think I may have blown it without even really starting. God, what was I thinking? I mean, it was a good idea in theory, I suppose. Exhaust all avenues and all that. Start with what you know already. Dig deeper. Why don't any of your teachers tell you that all the advice they give you is completely void of application in the real world? I think they ought to tell us that. Moreover, why didn't I know better? God, I really should have known it was a stupid thing to do, that she would… I don't even know.
But this is rapidly deteriorating into self-flagellation, so I'd better backtrack. There'll be plenty of time for that later.
So, I was doing a little brainstorming on where to begin knowing Isabel better, and I thought, hey. Didn't I once do a homework assignment like that? And about Isabel, no less? I keep most of my schoolwork. It's stupid, I know, but it has sentimental value for me. As soon as I retrieved the assignment from the big "sophomore year" box on my closet shelf, I remembered it clearly. That was the assignment we did before and after that Marathon, Texas debacle. Topolsky. That geodesic dome that Michael just would not stop talking about, that spilled over and became all that Max ever talked about. "That dome thing" was what Max called it. Michael won't stop talking about that dome thing, Michael wouldn't stop drawing that dome thing, Isabel seriously hates that dome thing and might go postal on that dome thing's ass if she ever finds it. So, anyway, most of that assignment was just… drivel, but there were one or two things in it that stuck out in my mind, like I had almost gotten past her façade for a second and received an honest answer. Here, I'll write them and the answers I wrote down again:
What is the worst thing that's ever happened to you?
She was separated from someone important when she was young. Vague…
Michael? Real family?
Do you have any enemies?
"Walk behind me down the hallway at school sometime."
Okay, the first stuck out just because it was approaching honest. The second, though… it was like a dare almost. I remember being very confused when she said that to me. I didn't know what it meant. And I never thought twice about it. There were always so many things to think about, to worry about. Topolsky, Valenti, Max. Then Pierce, Tess, Nasedo, and again, Max. Always something there to keep me from thinking about stuff like this. God, I read that now and it just sounds so sad for some reason. And here I am, making excuses to my journal of all things for why I never got to know Isabel. Maybe I do feel guilty. She just seemed to not want anything to do with me, that's all. Okay, that and I was always a little afraid of her. Maria was always, like, off the charts afraid of Isabel, but I was a little afraid of her too.
Ugh! Look how off-track I've gotten, what am I talking about? What I was trying to say was that I decided to. Walk behind her down the hallways of school, I mean. Just to find out what she meant by that. Well, now I know.
And I kind of wish I didn't.
Liz ducked frantically through the throng of students milling about, seeking out Isabel. She prayed she hadn't missed her again; she tried to catch Isabel after her history class, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen. Balancing herself against a row of lockers, Liz raised herself up on her tiptoes.
There.
Liz did a silent cheer as the object of her search glided out of the second-floor classroom, poised and looking the picture of perfection as always. Once Isabel's back was turned, Liz put her plan into action.
"Walk behind me down the hallway at school sometime."
Liz's brow furrowed in concentration as she extended her sense of hearing around her and kept up with Isabel, studiously keeping a good five feet of space between them.
"Oof! Oh, sorry," Liz exclaimed as she ran headlong into a senior band member who gave her a strange look. She could have cried with frustration. There was just too much going on at once for her to take it in. It was next to impossible to discern one conversation from another, let alone figure out who in the hallway was saying what. She hugged her chemistry book to her chest, trying to make herself as little as possible, and still managed somehow to run into practically everybody. After a bit, she was just following Isabel, paying no attention to anyone else.
"Ouch!" Liz yelped when a football player tromped on her foot. He mumbled something as he walked past, something that might have been "watch where you're going." Why was this so… hard all of a sudden? She walked these halls every single day, with only a minimum of mishaps. A thoughtful look drifted across her face momentarily, and she switched tactics. She forgot about proximity to Isabel, forgot about being directly behind her, forgot everything except the knowledge that she was simply walking down the hallway, a few people behind Isabel. She still had to duck and dodge a bit, but that was par for the course. Liz watched with some degree of fascination as Isabel moved down the hallway with some pretty, popular girl at her side. Isabel never had to dodge people; people moved out of her way. It was almost like the parting of the Red Sea. Isabel sometimes never even glanced at the space in front of her; laughing at something her friend said, turning around to wave at somebody at their locker. People just… moved. Like an automatic reaction. They didn't even seem to register that Isabel was coming, they just happened to move out of the way.
"Liz!" The brunette was startled out of her reverie as she caught the sight of Maria out of the corner of her eye. She reluctantly gave up her pursuit and headed over to the water fountain where her best friend was standing.
"Hey, Maria," Liz smiled as she approached.
"Man, I am so glad I found you, I desperately need your English notes, I didn't take any last night," Maria blustered, fumbling through the perpetual disaster that was her backpack. Liz looked on affectionately as two tubes of lip gloss, a brush, a crumpled up piece of paper, three pens, and a beaten copy of Wuthering Heights fell out of the side of her pack and Maria crouched down to stuff them back in. Once she did, more things just came out. It was a lot like Mary Poppins' bottomless bag, only… messier. Liz effortlessly pulled her backpack over her shoulder and fished out her notes.
"Here, they're yours." Melodramatic relief suffused Maria's face as she accepted them and crammed them into the front pocket. Liz winced, knowing she'd have to re-write them later, they'd be so crumpled.
"Oh! You're a goddess, thank you," she heaved, attempting to stand up and straighten out her backpack straps.
"Maria, do you ever think about being popular?" Liz asked distractedly as she watched Isabel's blonde locks disappear around a corner.
"Huh?" Maria uttered, thoroughly confused. Liz blushed a little; of course Maria didn't think about that.
"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking… if it would be, you know, fun. To be popular," she finished with a nervous laugh. Maria rolled her eyes, but a smile crept onto her lips.
"Liz. Sweetheart. Being popular is not fun," Maria declared as if she were an authority on the subject. Liz smiled teasingly.
"How would you know?"
"Because, look! I mean, they all feel… I don't know, pressured, to look a certain way or act a certain way, or whatever, or else… they won't be popular anymore. Personally, I've never understood it," Maria breezed, dismissing the idea with a distracted wave of her hands.
"I know, I know. But seriously," Liz persisted, and Maria made a mock sad face. "Don't make that face. Wouldn't it be nice to, like, have people respect you? Have people move out of your way when you walk down the hall, get invited to parties and dances and things. It would make you feel, I don't know, important."
"Liz, hon, trust me. Would you really want a friend who was only your friend because you looked nice? Would you care if someone respected you if they only respected you enough so that you'd let them sit at your lunch table?"
"Well, no, of course not," Liz offered resignedly, and Maria hugged her shoulders, resting her chin on one.
"I know. And I know you know. So… is this a self-esteem thing? Or, perish the thought, a PMS thing?" Maria joked, and Liz had to smile.
"No."
"Are you sure? Maybe this is a skip-fourth-period-to-hang-with-your- buddy thing?" Maria asked almost hopefully, and Liz laughed out loud.
"Maria, if my English notes suffered through the abuse of your backpack for nothing, I'll be upset. Go. Go to fourth hour, I'll see you at lunch," Liz waved her friend away with a grin.
"Are you sure? Reeeaaaallllllly sure?" Maria questioned even as she began to walk backwards away from Liz.
"Absolutely," Liz said resolutely. "Go." Maria waved playfully as she darted off down the hallway, leaving Liz to smile after her.
"Can you believe the nerve of Isabel Evans, turning down a date with Doug Schramm like that?" Liz snapped to attention, realizing that the gossips were right around the corner of the locker row, and plastered herself to the end of the row so as not to be seen.
"Oh! I know, it's like she thinks she's… I dunno, some kind of Cordelia Chase or something," one bored-sounding girl replied, and girl number one laughed.
"Did you see Buffy on Tuesday? My god, can I just steal that girl's entire wardrobe or something? Pretty please?" Liz rolled her eyes.
"Oh, so with you. But sincerely, Isabel cannot afford to go around jilting seniors like Doug right and left. She should only be so happy to be dating him, he's a catch," bored-girl intoned.
"God, not to mention a total dish."
"Her rep took a serious dive after that whole… Alex Whiteboy or whatever thing. I mean, the kid took a trip to Sweden. To Sweden! And he has a garage band. Ugh, what could she have been thinking." Liz's cheeks burned with indignation. She ought to smack them both for talking about Alex like that.
"And how she's always hanging with those weirdos all the time? Her brother, let's not even go there."
"The boy is a serious creep. He never says anything, and he stares. So off the charts sketch."
"Well, you know they were adopted, so they might not even be related. They don't exactly look alike."
"Like Isabel would let anyone forget!" The girls laughed, and Liz's mouth dropped open in shock.
"And that Michael kid? So sketch."
"And you know, Isabel's not exactly a prize herself."
"Oh, totally! Who does she think she's impressing with that attitude?"
"And the haircut? Vogue, two months ago."
"Oh, could she be more obvious?"
"Try desperate! But who wouldn't be in her completely last spring mules? I heard she's been fucking the sheriff."
"Oh, ew!"
"No joke, my mom was talking about it to Jennifer's mom, she said that's why the sheriff lost his job and why that Mayberry reject from the state department was here."
"That is so beyond disgusting." There was a long pause in the conversation where the only sounds were the last remainders of kids scurrying to class and the girl throwing things into her locker.
"It's just too bad all those fucking good looks were wasted on such a psycho." Liz stared at the floor as the catty laughter rang out and echoed cruelly in the mostly deserted hall. Her feet seemed to be stuck to the ground even as she listened to the footfalls marking the girls' departure.
Liz's mind seemed weighted down all day by what she'd overheard in the hallway that morning. Her Advanced Math teacher even wanted to send her to the nurse, she was so quiet and strained. What made things even worse was that she couldn't seem to escape hearing these things now. Whereas earlier she had trouble even identifying voices in the hallway, they seemed to now be full of whispered talk and telling glances regarding the Evans girl.
"Can you believe…"
"God, the nerve of that girl."
"Who does she think she is?"
"Meaner than a snake, and just as deadly."
"Is it me, or did it suddenly get really cold in here?"
"Did you hear about the Sheriff?"
"It's a shame that someone that beautiful can be that horrible."
"Bitch."
Liz lost count of how many times that last one was uttered at Isabel's passing. Just as the elusive scent of her perfume faded from the wake of air she left behind her, it would creep out of conversations for a fleeting second before disappearing completely, leaving barely a trace of it's acidic pettiness. Liz just kept walking, looking straight ahead at the back of Isabel's head. So intent was she on keeping her eyes front that it took a moment for her to realize that Isabel was no longer walking in front of her. She blinked twice in rapid succession, as if the blonde's disappearance might just have been a trick of the light, continuing to walk forward cautiously and searching the whole of the teeming hallway with her eyes. Without warning, a hand clamped down on her right arm, startling her out of her concentration and eliciting a small squeak of surprise before hauling her bodily into a dark classroom. Liz tumbled inside, tripping a bit over her own feet, and whirled around to face the person who had brought her here and was leaning against the now-closed door.
Isabel.
Liz groaned internally, silently bemoaning the fact that she was just not cut out to be stealthy before Isabel opened her mouth to speak.
"What the hell is going on with you?" she bit out, staring guardedly but with undisguised hostility at the smaller girl.
"Isabel, I – I mean, I just, it was nothing-"
"Nothing? You mean to tell me that you've been stalking me all day today for just… no reason in particular?" Liz winced at the tone of her voice. Isabel's posture was relaxed, light even, but she could make a string of innocent words really cut.
"Well… yeah. I mean, no, I was-"
"Following me," Isabel cut her off again, and Liz cast her eyes to the floor, trying to come up with a plausible response and finding none. "Is there some… burning question that you need me to answer? Some alien thing that we haven't told you about yet? Wondering where I bought these shoes? What?" Isabel continued to grill her harshly, advancing on her a step with every new question, and Liz returned her gaze, still not answering. Isabel exhaled forcefully, some of the anger leaving her face. "Okay, so you won't tell me why you're following me. Fine. I don't know what you think you're doing, and I don't care." Liz looked at Isabel carefully. She didn't know how, but she was certain that Isabel was lying. Isabel did care what she was doing, but Liz couldn't figure out why she would lie about that.
"I-"
"I don't want to know," Isabel cut in, turning to leave.
"Why do you act like that?" Isabel looked back at Liz, faint surprise coloring her features at her question.
"Excuse me?" Poised and perfect to the end, Liz thought.
"Why do you act like you do? Why do you always pretend to be mean, and…" Liz trailed off, thinking for sure she had just signed a death warrant of some kind by asking that. The incredulous anger that suffused Isabel's face confirmed that thought.
"Act? You want to know why I pretend to be mean? Wake up, Liz. You go to the same school I do, you walk down the same hallways. If you've bothered to listen to any conversations about me, you'd know better. I am mean. I am a bitch," Isabel snapped, and Liz inwardly cringed a little but held her ground. The same way she knew that Isabel was lying when she said she didn't care what Liz was doing, Liz knew instinctively that Isabel didn't want to be this way towards her. She sounded more interested in convincing herself than Liz of her hard and uncaring core.
"Isabel, you're not a bitch. I know better than that, and you've never been mean to me," Liz insisted quietly.
"Why would I?" Liz blinked in confusion.
"What?"
"Why would I bother being mean to you? Who are you?" Liz couldn't believe what she was hearing, and her mouth actually dropped open a little in shock. After everything… all they'd been through together, everything they'd shared as a group, there was no way Isabel just said that to her. No way.
"Isabel-"
"Look, whatever it is, just cut it out, okay? You're officially creeping me out with this following me stuff, and you don't want me to get mad." The sentence sounded like it should have been a threat but lacked any sort of conviction. Isabel wasn't even looking at her, neglecting to use her most powerful unspoken weapon, her intense eyes. Isabel looked… almost embarrassed. Liz hesitated, not knowing what to say, and Isabel turned on her heel and headed for the door.
"Walk behind me down the hallway at school sometime." Isabel stopped just short of the door and looked over her shoulder at Liz.
"What did you say?"
"I didn't say it, you did. 'Walk behind me down the hallway at school sometime.' It was last year, when we went to get Michael and Maria in Marathon, Texas. Remember the geodesic dome? Atherton's house?"
"Yes, yes, I remember," Isabel said irritably, and placed one hand on the doorframe, as if for support.
"It was that assignment we had to do for history. I interviewed you, and that was your answer to the question: Do you have any enemies?" Liz expounded, and Isabel regarded her with an expression she couldn't name. They stood there in silence for a long moment, just regarding each other cautiously.
"I don't remember saying that," Isabel replied softly, and slipped out the door.
As Liz sighed and collapsed into a nearby chair, she knew with certainty once again that Isabel was lying.
end part 3