6
Scarlett
Usually, hanging out with the girls is one of the things that can smooth out any tense feelings I have, but today it’s not working. I shouldn’t feel so on edge after one disastrous class with Evan, but I do. We argue all the time, that much isn’t new. But we argue from afar, over stock prices and over who is reading the graphs wrong. Now, we actually have to have real conversations to make this project work. Craving academic validation has always been my weakness and I don’t think I’ll ever get out of it; this project is no different.
My mom thought it was just a phase that I’d grow out of, especially growing up with all brothers. When you grow up with four boys who get praised for pissing in the toilet bowl or for tying their shoelaces, you need to work extra hard to be noticed.
You’d think that since I’m the only girl, I’d get special treatment, but no. Instead, you realise more than ever that you’re not special because your brothers could do everything that you do, when they were five years younger.
My mom thought that I just wanted to prove myself in a world where men dominate, but sometimes I think it’s deeper than that.
I know my worth. I know I’m smart. I know I’m good at what I do. And I know I don’t need a grade to determine that. But I’ve always had a strong relationship with numbers, so having it on paper helps. It makes it feel real. People can only assess your worth on what they see in stats.
Oh, she’s got a clothing brand that sells thousands per week:perfect.She has straight A’s and a 4.0 GPA: amazing.She works and studies three hundred and sixty-five days a year, striving for that perfect A at the top of her report: fan-fucking-tastic.
My friends think it’s something that I will eventually grow out of when I finish college. Still, when I close my eyes, I can see myself, ten years from now, still wanting to pin my report card on the fridge.
Wren, Kennedy, and I have been sitting on the floor in our living room for the last hour, in our usual spots. Which means Kennedy is sitting in her bean bag next to the coffee table, Wren’s back is against the sofa with her laptop in her lap, while I’m on my stomach next to her feet.
We have our own mini book club. Every time Wren writes a new chapter of her romance novel, “Stolen Kingdom”, she reads it out loud to us.
She’s become shy with her creative writing, even though she’s been taking the course for over two years, as well as figure skating. I can tell that she’s been in a slump since our friend Gigi got signed with one of the top publishing agencies in the Midwest. We’ve been trying to lift her up, hyping up every chapter, but I can tell something is wrong.
“Just stop getting in your head about it, Wrenny,” I suggest, resting my hand on her knee reassuringly so it stops shaking. She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I know. I know. I’m trying,” she responds, staring at her laptop screen. Sometimes I think she’s too hard on herself, always trying too hard, but she needs to realise how brilliant she is. Even when it’s all we and her boyfriend tell her, but she can’t get it into her head.
“Try digging deeper,” I press. I know I sound harsh, but this girl is incredible if she’d realise it. Kennedy throws a hard candy at me, hitting me right in the back of my head. I flinch, rubbing that spot. “Hey! What was that for?”
“You’re being mean, Scar. You're going to make her cry,” Kennedy whispers as if Wren isn’t sitting right there.
I snort. “Come on, Ken. She isn’t going to cry. I’m just being honest,” I say and Wren nods, smiling at me. I don’t think I’d be able to cope if she cried right now. Kennedy gets up abruptly, the wrappers she had in the pouch she created with her shirt dropping to the floor as she does. “Where are you going?”
She shrieks as she runs down the corridor. “Stress-induced pee break!” she squeals. Wren and I laugh, knowing her and her bladder problems.
“You don’t think I was being too harsh, do you?” I whisper, poking Wren in the knee. I’ve known her longer than I have known anyone in my life, and we’ve always worked like this. We met Kennedy in high school and since then we’ve been inseparable, but Wren and I have literally been glued to the hip since we were in diapers. “I’m not trying to sound like a bitch. I just care about you, and I know how happy writing makes you and I don’t want you to lose that. You're an incredibly talented writer, Wren.”
She turns to me, tears brimming her eyes. “Thank you, Scar. It’s just a little hard right now, but I am trying.”
“I know,” I say back, squeezing her hand and she squeezes back. There is nothing that I want more than my friends' success. Especially Wren’s. God knows she deserves it.
She nudges my knee. “What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen much of you since you left that party with that guy. What’s his name? Charlie?” she quizzes, and I laugh at the change in subject. “He was cute.”
“If you mean his dick size, sure,” I mutter and she nudges me again, chuckling as she tucks her blonde hair behind her ears.
“Oh. So, small, I assume,” she replies, nodding.
“Tiny.”
She laughs again, shaking her head. “Yikes,” she mutters. “I don’t want to dick-shame, but if Miles’ dick was smaller than it is, I don’t think we’d be dating. It just wouldn’t do the job.”
The way this girl has grown in the last year shocks me. She would hardly ever speak openly about sex like this. Well, because she hadn’t had much experience before dating Miles, but still, I find it funny.
“I know, right? I mean, not with Miles’s dong, but in general. I just don’t see how-” I start but I’m interrupted by Kennedy’s loud entrance into the room, sitting down onto her beanbag.
“Okay, okay. Enough talk about penises. Two updates, go!” Kennedy says, pointing at the both of us.
We’ve been doing the ‘Two Updates’ game since freshman year where we have to give two updates on what our life has been like when we haven’t been able to hang out. Most of the time, I’m out at some event, Kennedy is in the studio until late and Wren’s at the rink. So, when there’s a time we’re all together, we have to give updates.
