'Are We Even Friends?' – #FreewriteMadness – My Response to the 'Primary' Prompt

In this post, I'm responding to 'primary', a new writing prompt by @freewritehouse. After a hectic weekend, my current #NaNoWriMo word count is 28,627. According to the official NaNo website, I need to hit 31,667 words by the end of today (Monday, November 19th) to get back on par. I have written over 3,000 words a day on a few occasions this month and I'm confident I can repeat this achievement today – getting back on par is important to me – so let's go for it! 😁

___________________________

～ Sophie ～

Dissolve.com

Are We Even Friends?

Lunch time. Two days after the disco, two days before my date with Shaun. It's lashing rain outside, so we can't go out into the yard as usual. We're all in Yvonne, Stephanie and Clara's classroom. The bell will go soon, making us all go back into our own seats (and our own classroom, in the case of me and Jessie), but for now, Yvonne is sitting on the teacher's desk. Stephanie perches alongside her and the rest of us are in ordinary seats around them.

'So Sophie has a date with Shaun on Wednesday,' Jessie announces, laughing. 'They're going to meet up straight after our half-day!'

'Ooh,' Stephanie replies, exchanging a weird kind of smile with Yvonne. 'What are you two going to do?'

'Oh my God, Jessie, shut up,' I hiss. No one needs to know about the date, I told her not to say anything...

'We all know already,' Yvonne tells me, with a roll of her eyes. 'Like it wasn't totally obvious!'

'What are you going to wear?' Stephanie asks me.

'I don't know ... my uniform? I'll be coming straight from school, so –'

She, Yvonne and Jessie burst out laughing like this is the most ridiculous comment ever. 'Oh, come on,' Yvonne yells, rolling her eyes. 'Primary school girl, going on a date with a secondary school boy – how often does that happen? You've got to make an effort.'

Clara leans forward nervously – taps me on the shoulder. 'Hey, Sophie? Come over to my desk for a sec, I want to ask you about this History homework thing – I don't really get it, but I know you're good at History, so –'

The others begin to look away, bored – already moving on to a conversation about clothes – and Clara leads me over to her desk and pulls a chair from a nearby table so I can sit down next to her. She wrestles her History book out of the pile of clutter on her desk – it's a huge book, really tall – then she opens it up and props it against the rest of her books. I expect her to start pointing out where she's stuck, or something. Instead, she ducks her head down a bit, so it's kind of covered by the book. She stares at me all wide-eyed – nodding down at her desk like she wants me to hide behind the book too – so even though this is totally weird and I don't get what she's doing, I crouch down a bit in my seat.

'What's up?'

'Um ... this is going to sound weird. Sorry.'

'Okay...' Don't know what to do right now. My neck is getting kind of uncomfortable, with me all hunched over like this.

'It's just ... um –'

'Okay, Clara, are we going to sit like this all day?' I know I sound like I'm really annoyed with her, and I feel a little bad about it, but my neck is going to get seriously sore if I keep sitting like this. 'Miss Delaney gets cross if we're late getting back to class, so –'

'Don't go on that date with Shaun,' she blurts out, her eyes all wide and afraid-looking. She peeks over her History book – sees that the others are still gathered around Yvonne's desk, laughing at something she's showing them on her phone – then hunches over again, whispering really urgently at me. 'Just ... don't.'

My mouth is literally hanging open right now – that's the last thing I expected her to say. 'Um ... what? Why?'

'He's horrible.'

'What do you mean?'

'I ... can't tell you.' She stares down at her desk, shame-faced.

'Clara, you can't just tell me not to go on a date with someone without even explaining why.' She's really weirding me out right now.

'Please don't tell Yvonne I told you this, okay? Please.'

'I won't. I promise.'

'Well, um ... it's just ...' she struggles to speak, getting more nervous by the second: I swear I can see her hands shaking a little. Eventually, she shakes her head and pulls her phone out of her pocket. 'I guess I should show you. I don't know how to say it.'

'Um ... start reading from here,' she says quietly – sadly – pointing out a message from Shaun. He sent it a few days ago.

The Next Web

Haha, guess what? I have a date with Sophie on Friday. 😂😂😂

I see that Ryan texted back first:

You mean Sluttie?

Joe:

😂😂😂😂😂

Then Yvonne:

She is SO slutty. Seriously the most desperate bitch I've ever met in my life. 🤪

Stephanie:

Such a try-hard 😝

I scroll through the rest of it in shock. I can feel myself starting to cry, but I'm trying not to, in front of Clara. She looks so nervous right now: keeps glancing over her book to make sure Yvonne and Stephanie and Jessie aren't looking at us.

Shaun:

I bet she'd do more than just meet me, if you get what I mean...

Yvonne:

Haha, yeah, I bet she would.

Joe:

She'd WELL get it.

Shaun:

She IS desperate. So easy. Always up for meeting! 😛

Yvonne:

Sluttie Fitzmaurice will do anything to look cool. You know she lied when we first asked her if she'd ever met someone? She made up this stupid story about having a boyfriend in St. Michael's! 😂😂😂

Ryan:

🤣🤣🤣

Yvonne:

She's so pathetic.

Joe:

Get in there, Shaun, me lad!

Shaun:

Hahaha. Yes boss 😜

Then a message from Jessie, the next day.

Hey guys! Who's ready for Saturday night? 😘😂

Then they all start discussing the disco. That's it. Jessie doesn't mention the previous conversation. Says nothing about how horrible everyone was being. Doesn't stand up for me at all. But her message happened right after the others were talking about me – there's no way she didn't see that conversation.

'Clara,' I say, struggling not to cry, 'can you screenshot all this and send it to me, please?'

'Um, yeah. I can. Please don't tell Yvonne I showed it to you, though. She'd kill me. But I just ... I had to tell you.'

'Yeah, I get that. Thanks Clara. I ... I have to get back to class. I have, like, some homework I didn't get to do last night, so –' I pull my chair back so fast, I almost fall over, but Clara isn't quite done with me. She grabs my arm and stares anxiously at me.

'Sophie, you won't go on that date now, right?'

'Definitely not. See you later, Clara...'

I rush back to Miss Delaney's classroom as the bell begins to go off. I feel like I'm going to literally throw up. A few more people start coming back in after me and I begin to panic. Jessie will be here soon. Oh God, I can't sit next to her. Not after all that...

Oh, great – Miss Delaney is here. I run up to her.

'Miss Delaney? I'm feeling a bit sick. Can I move my chair so it's next to the window? Please?'

'Oh, you're not well?' She frowns. 'Should I call Brenda?' The school nurse...

'No, I'm fine, I'm fine ... I just need some fresh air.'

'Well, just let me know if you do feel like you need to go down to her, alright?'

'I will. Thanks...'

I rush back to our desk just before Jessie gets there – grab my books and stack them on top of my chair – then I carry the chair across the room to the empty desk. I know the whole time I'm doing this, she's staring really weirdly at me. As I pass her, she asks me, 'Sophie, what's wrong?' But I don't look at her. I sit at the desk by the window and stare straight ahead as Miss Delaney tells us all to stop chatting and get our English books out, because our break is over.

✮ ✮ ✮

Oh my God, I wish she'd stop messaging me. I'm in my room right now, trying to do my homework, but she won't leave me alone. I stayed over in my seat by the window all afternoon – not looking at Jessie once – then when we were let out, I ran across the yard before she could try and talk to me. Luckily, Dad and Luke were both right there, waiting for me, Ever since then it's been all, what's going on? Why are you not talking to me?

She even got Yvonne to text me earlier: So I hear you're ignoring Jessie. She just called me and she's REALLY upset about it. 😡 That's so rude, Sophie – stop being a total bitch.

I couldn't even breathe when I got that one. I'm being rude? Really?

Oh my God, oh my God ... Jessie's calling me now. I stare at my phone, frozen. I don't know what to say to her because I don't want to get Clara into trouble. How do I tell Jessie or Yvonne or Stephanie that I know about the group chat, without making them suspect that Clara told me? But as I stare at Jessie's name on my screen, my anger just grows and grows.

Okay, you know what? She wants a fight? She can have a fight.

I pick up the phone and bark: 'What?'

'So you're just not talking to me now?' she demands to know.

'As if you care.'

'What?'

'You don't give a shit about me.'

'Oh my God, Soph, why are you being such a psycho?'

'Are we even friends, Jessie? Really?'

'Course we are.'

'Oh yeah? So you don't think the same thing as Yvonne: that I'm the most desperate bitch you've ever met in your life?'

She's quiet for a minute, then she coughs a little and goes, 'um ... what?'

'You don't think I'd "well get it"? Or I'd "do anything to look cool"?' I've read the messages so often now, I know them off by heart. There are tears pouring down my face now – I'm finding it hard to speak – but I keep going anyway. 'And you don't call me Sluttie Fitzmaurice behind my back?'

There's total silence on the other end of the phone.

'Jessie, did you know about all this?' I shout.

When she finally answers me, her voice sounds really weird: like she's struggling to get it out or she has something stuck in her chest. 'Where did you see that?'

'Forget where I saw it. Did you know about it?' My heart is already sinking over the fact that she didn't even try to deny it. I guess I hoped that there might be some chance that this was all a mistake, somehow, or that Jessie didn't see what the others had written about me...

'Okay, Soph, if you read that conversation, you'll see that I didn't say anything. That was the others, not me.'

'Yeah, fine, you didn't say anything, but you were in that chat. You must have seen what they were all saying about me. And you didn't say anything to them? You didn't bother thinking, "oh, you know what, maybe Sophie deserves to know this shit"...'

'Again,' she yells, 'it was all Yvonne and the guys saying that! Not me.'

'Stop saying that. Stop using Yvonne and the guys as an excuse. You could have told me! I'm meant to be your best friend, Jessie. We're meant to tell each other everything – especially when people are talking shit about one of us and the other person knows it. Even the fact that you set up this group chat, without me in it, tells me everything I need to know.'

'Me and Yvonne just needed to talk about some things in private, okay? Stephanie and Clara were added later – this was before we all became, like, a proper group – and we hadn't gotten around to adding you yet, that's all.'

'Oh, bullshit. Why was it okay for all the boys to be added to the chat, then, before you ever even thought of me?'

'It didn't start out that way! It started out as me, Yvonne, Stephanie, Clara – that was before you started hanging out with us more often – but then .... oh my God ... Clara is the one who told you, wasn't she?'

Oh shit.

'It doesn't matter who told me, Jessie,' I snap. 'Stop trying to change the subject. Do you call me Sluttie Fitzmaurice behind my back, like the others do?'

'No,' she says, after hesitating for a moment ... and that moment ruins it all for me. I know she's lying. I just know it.

'Do you, Jessie? Be honest with me!'

'Well ... look, Soph: the others are kind of right, if you ask me.'

'Oh my God, Jessie, you're the one who told me to start meeting people,' I say, close to tears now. 'You and Yvonne. You told me I had to get better at meeting!'

'Yeah, but we didn't mean you should go, like, totally crazy with it.' Her voice is all dismissive now, like she's only half paying attention to me, or I'm boring her, or something like that. 'They're right. You are kind of a slut now. You totally would have sex with Michael just to be cool.'

'No I WOULDN'T!'

Oh crap. Now I can hear Dad yelling up the stairs, wanting to know if everything is okay. He's meant to be helping Luke with his homework right now, but I guess I've been shouting too much. They must've heard me.

I open the door so I can hear him more clearly.

'Sophie? What's going on up there?'

'Nothing, Dad,' I shout back.

'You sure?'

'Yeah, I'm just – I'm talking to Jessie about something.'

'Okay ... you're sure you're alright?'

'I'm fine.'

I close the door to my room again, hoping he won't come up here with a sundae or hot chocolate or something. He keeps doing that now, whenever I'm upset – appearing at my door with something nice for me to eat or drink – like that'll make it all better. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know he's trying his best. But dads really don't have a clue about any of this stuff. I'm not even sure I could talk to Mammy about it, if she were here. I wouldn't know where to begin.

'What was all that?' she asks me.

'Talking to my dad, that's all ... look, Jessie, I'm going to ask you again: are we even friends?'

'I guess we're not. You've changed.'

'You've changed!'

'Oh, fuck off, Sophie. You're just jealous because I'm way more popular than you now. I tried to help you. I tried so hard. I gave you advice, I helped you find a way to go to the discos even when your dad wouldn't let you, I did everything I could to help you become a part of our group ... it's not my fault you've turned into some total psycho.'

I hang up on her, then launch myself into my bed and scream into the pillow. It's something I've started doing lately – this way, I get to scream, but Dad and Luke won't hear me.

After about a minute, I pick up my phone and go to block Jessie everywhere: checking Facebook and Instagram first. She's already blocked me there – must have done it literally a second after we hung up. Damn it. I wanted to be the first...

I check Snapchat ... and luckily, she hasn't gotten around to blocking me there yet. I tap the 'block' button, then I throw my phone into the pile of clothes in the corner of my room and flop down on my bed, facing away from it. So. That's it. She's gone. Great.

For a fraction of a second, I feel satisfied. But then I think of how long we've been friends – everything we've gone through together – and I burst into tears all over again.

✮ ✮ ✮

The next day, I feel sick about going into school. Luke is chatting away beside me: holding onto my hand, going on and on about how he's looking forward to the Christmas dress-up day next week, and how it's going to be real Christmas soon, and Santa will be here and everything will be great, but I wish he'd stop. Jessie must have told the others about the phone call last night, and now they've probably all decided they won't even bother to hide what they're saying about me anymore. And what about Clara? Jessie must have told Yvonne that she thinks Clara told me about the group chat...

I'm walking Luke over to the Senior Infants line right now (he's still prattling about Santa) but the thought of going over to the other end of the hall – where the Fifth and Sixth Class lines are – makes me feel throwing up. I have no one to sit with. No one to talk to. This is it. I'm a loner. The school freak. Nobody likes me, nobody wants to be friends with me ... everything I tried so hard to avoid is staring me in the face.

Clara is sitting at the back of Miss Creedon's Sixth Class line, her head buried in a book, looking miserable. I guess Yvonne must have said something mean to her. I don't dare go up to her – Jessie must have told her that I ratted her out, so she probably hates me right now.

Yvonne, Jessie and Stephanie are at the top of the line. I stay as far away as possible, but I can still feel their eyes on me: like their stares are physically burning my skin.

'Well, hey, look who it is,' Yvonne says with a sneer, loud enough for me to hear her. 'Sluttie Fitzmaurice.'

Stephanie and Jessie crack up.

My heart sinks. All I can do is stare at the ground and shuffle down to the back of the line, standing well back from Clara: I can't even look at her. So this is how it's going to be from now on.

___________________________

That was 3,023 words. It's about a quarter past 7 in my corner of the world, so I still have over four hours to write some more. I'll write again in a couple of hours or so.

I want to end this post by giving a shout out to everyone else who has signed up to the fit of absolute lunacy invigorating creative challenge that is #FreewriteMadness. 😇 Make sure you go and support their work too! I have limited voting power (damn my not-quite-plankton but not-quite-redfish status 😉), but will upvote as many posts as I can per day.

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