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Jackie hisses from her position shoved against the door of the handicap stall, the metal handle digging into her back. Nat doesn’t pull away, her hands rapidly traveling upward underneath the bottom of her sweater.
“You have to be quiet,” Nat whispers, her lips trailing down Jackie’s neck.
“Sorry,” Jackie retorts, trying to reposition herself and succeeding.
And look Nat’s hot, has always been hot, but Jackie is decidedly not turned on, especially given the fact they’re in a musty bathroom stall. Nat still seems to be into it, but Jackie is spacing out as Nat starts palming her chest.
The bell rings and Nat pulls back, as if burnt. Her blue eyes are a little darker than usual, and her lips are swollen, and only then, does Jackie grab her by the collar and kiss her sweetly. Nat pulls back after a second, squeezing her waist. Their faces are close, practically sharing the same breath, and if Jackie wanted to, she could connect their lips again. She’s tempted too, leaning in when Nat cuts her off.
“You should go first,” is all Nat says.
Jackie blinks, the moment gone, as she rapidly tries to conceal her hurt. Nat’s eyes flash, her lips curving in a frown before she rubs her thumb against Jackie’s hipbone and then retracts her hands. For once, Jackie’s speechless, unable to summon the words to convey her disappointment about how they’re still sneaking around, even after dating for so long.
She’s tired of late-night rendezvous, of date nights far from Wiskayok, of sneaking around in dirty bathroom stalls. Jackie doesn’t say any of that though, she chokes down her vitriol and straightens her sweater.
“See you at practice,” Jackie murmurs, and doesn’t look back as she unlocks the stall, and then rushes out of the bathroom.
Practice is a total mess. There’s a chip on her shoulder, an undercurrent of rage coursing through her veins, and Jackie gives into it. It’s her best-kept secret, after all, the anger she feels. Jackie never shows it, she can’t afford to, not with all of the eyes on her, but she feels it nevertheless. She’s not like Tai, who can use her anger and disguise it as passion, or Shauna, who bottles everything up until she explodes.
Violence doesn’t look good on her. Blood has never been her color.
So, Jackie grits her teeth until her jaw hurts, resisting the urge to scream when Mari misses an easy pass. She swallows her words, tightening her hands into fists, and only gets more upset when Shauna’s eyes flick over to her, clearly concerned. Her concern only feels patronizing now, Shauna’s been wrapping her in bubble wrap their entire lives, and Jackie’s tired of it.
I read your diary, Jackie wants to hurl, how could you?
Jackie just turns away, trying to focus on her breathing. She still hasn’t talked to Shauna about her diary, about all the hate that Shauna carries for her, because Jackie can’t find the words. She knows the conversation won’t go well, knows the fragile peace between them is only temporary, and sooner or later, things would blow up.
Still, Jackie doesn’t want to resort to the easy anger she has. Doesn’t want to rip her claws into her best friend, because that’s what they were, Jackie and Shauna, Shauna and Jackie, two halves of a whole. They were supposed to be best friends forever.
Jackie’s a person split in two, unable to comprehend the betrayal and unable to accept it. She doesn’t know how to get closure, without the conversation going south. There is no world in which that talk goes well, Jackie knows this.
A whistle blows, and Jackie shakes her head, trying to re-focus. Coach Martinez starts shouting at them, spittle flying, his words passing straight over her head. She furrows her eyebrows, eyeing the other girls and seeing the exhaustion in their postures.
“Hey Coach, I think maybe we should take a quick water break,” Jackie pipes up, plastering her best smile on.
“You think you deserve a break?” Coach raises an eyebrow, “Do you want to run suicides?”
The others immediately pale, shaking their heads. Jackie keeps her posture straight, her smile never faltering, “I’ll do it. Just give them a water break.”
“Jax, what the hell?” Shauna whispers at her side, “What are you doing?”
Jackie ignores her, keeping her eyes locked on their coach. Coach Martinez just laughs, “Always a martyr, eh? Whatever. Girls, take 5. You can see what happens when you talk out of turn.”
When you talk out of turn, Jackie’s smile falters, resisting the urge to vomit. She’s been hearing words like that her entire life, from her mother. It only makes her stomach churn and her head spin, but she pushes the nausea aside. She closes her eyes, focusing on the energy she feels pulsing around inside of her and all of her frustration.
“Come on Taylor, show them why you’re the captain,” Coach Martinez snarks.
Jackie digs her nails into her palms, ignoring him and blinking away the image of him with a bloodied nose and cracked teeth, before walking over to the touchline. Her heartbeat is frantic in her chest, and she glances at the other girls to see that they’re chatting amongst themselves, enjoying their break on the sidelines. There are only a handful of people looking at her, Nat included.
Coach Martinez blows his whistle, and Jackie takes off, instinct fueling her. The frustration begins to bleed out of her, her body moving mechanically. The others probably think she’s an idiot, sacrificing herself for them, but she doesn’t care. She loves them, she’s loved them ever since she laid eyes on her motley group of Yellowjackets and loves them so much she’s willing to bleed herself dry for them.
The burden of leadership sits on her shoulders, Jackie needs to prove she’s worthy of it. Maybe the others don’t get it. Maybe they don’t understand why she memorizes their birthdays, their phone numbers (and their emergency contacts), or any of the little details she knows. Maybe they’ll never understand, because Jackie will never explain.
It’s okay. I’ll go first. I’d rather it be me, than you. I can handle it.
Her body is made to endure. She’s carved it from marble, after all, and spent hours pinching and squeezing herself in the mirror. Jackie’s made to carry a burden, she’s made to suffer. It’s all she’s ever known.
Her lungs burn when she reaches the midfield marker. Jackie just grits her teeth, saliva gathering in the back of her throat as she forces herself to run faster. Her back hurts, and her sports bra digs into her shoulders. Jackie pushes through the discomfort, despite how her skin crawls. She sprints back to the touchline, her palm meeting the turf before she turns and begins one of the final sprints.
Her body aches as she propels herself forward, the wind in her hair. Sweat drips down the back of her neck, her breath coming out haggard. Jackie ignores the pain, can only think of the others, can only think of the fact that her suffering has brought them some reprieve, so at least it was worth it.
For a moment, spots appear before her eyes and Jackie harshly blinks them away. Frustration fills her, at the fact that her perfectly sculpted vessel is starting to break down on her. She’s spent so long training, so long perfecting herself, and it has to be for something. All that suffering has to mean something, right?
Jackie’s limbs feel heavy as she begins the final sprint. Distantly, she can hear yelling, but she doesn’t turn her head, too focused on her destination. Her feet slam against the ground, pieces of turf flying behind her as her side bangs flick into her face. She forces large breaths out, her chest heaving, as she finally reaches the other touchline and then collapses onto her back.
The world above her spins as she stares up at the sun. Jackie huffs out breaths, trying to regain her breathing as fast as possible. She’s the captain, she can’t set a bad example, so she forces herself into a sitting position. Someone drops to their knees beside her, and to her surprise, it’s Lottie, who holds a hand out.
Jackie takes it, and Lottie pulls her up to her feet. Lottie looms above her, but her presence doesn’t feel intimidating, merely warm. Lottie’s always been like that, always the glue to keep the others together. Jackie might be the captain in name, but Lottie and Tai were the only ones worth following. Tai, with her passion and her drive, inspired others. Lottie, with her magnetism, just had a way about her, she seemed so much more knowledgeable than her years.
In a way, Lottie Matthews was everything that Jackie wanted to be. She was richer, more well-known, more outwardly put together. She seemed like she knew who was going to be, and was content with her path, while Jackie was just there, stumbling around in her cleats and her metaphorical crown.
For a second, doubt hits her. Jackie knows about Nat and Lottie’s past, who doesn’t? It wasn’t a well-kept secret on the team. She wonders if Nat is ashamed of her; if she settles for Jackie because she couldn’t get the unattainable Lottie and that’s the reason she keeps their relationship a secret.
If that was the real reason, Jackie doesn’t know how she’d feel. Hurt, definitely, but she doesn’t know if she’d even feel surprised. Put the two girls up against each other, and Lottie Matthews would win every time. Lottie's...well, Lottie, while she’s just Jackie, a girl with eyes a little too big for her head and who talks a little too much about nothing. She doesn’t have Lottie’s gorgeous long legs, or her doe brown eyes, or a symmetrical face like hers. Jackie’s not anything special.
Lottie’s smile is small but bright, as she pulls her hand away and Jackie returns to reality. Lottie’s observant and knows just how much Jackie doesn’t like physical touch.
“Thank you, Jackie,” Lottie says.
“‘Course,” is all she responds with.
Lottie eyes her for another moment, something flashing in her dark brown eyes that Jackie doesn’t understand before she turns away. Jackie follows her over to the benches, plopping down as a hand shoves a water bottle into her face. Jackie grabs the bottle, glancing over to see Nat glaring at her.
“Drink it,” her girlfriend’s voice twists with frustration.
Jackie wants to snarl back and wants to give in to the anger swelling in her chest, but she bites her tongue instead and downs half the bottle, just as Coach Martinez blows his whistle again.
“We’re gonna run these drills again until you can make those passes in your sleep,” he commands, “we’re almost to Nationals, we can’t afford to slip up now.”
A scowl appears on Jackie’s face for a millisecond before she wipes it away and jumps to her feet. Her body hurts. She still can’t look at Shauna or Nat for too long, but she pushes it all away.
“Alright, let’s line up guys,” she forces pep into her voice and stalks out onto the field, always the first one to go.
The others follow her, though at a slower pace, and Jackie ignores the paranoia that gnaws at her, that there’s something she’s missing, like an inside joke she’s been left out of.
When practice is finally over, Jackie changes quickly, and drags herself out of the locker room, waving a quick goodbye to the others. Shauna hasn’t been driving her lately after Jackie made a few excuses about how the walking was nice, so she readies herself for the walk home. She’s only a few feet into the parking lot when she hears footsteps behind her.
Jackie turns her head, to see Nat in a jog, and her girlfriend slows into a walk, casually brushing their shoulders together.
“Can I drive you home?” Nat offers.
Jackie doesn’t meet her eyes, “Aren’t you afraid someone will see you driving me?”
“What?” Nat stops, tugging on her arm, “Jack, are we good?”
“I don’t know, are we?” Jackie fires, unable to bite back her frustration, “It’s fine, I’ll walk.”
Nat’s grip tightens on her arm, “Babe, it’s gonna get dark soon. Just…please can I just drive you home?”
Jackie meets her pleading eyes and nods, and Nat doesn’t even blink before her hand travels down Jackie’s arm, intertwining their fingers. She tugs her forward, and they walk to Nat’s truck in silence. Nat opens her door, letting go of her hand, and Jackie climbs inside before pulling the door closed. After Nat gets in the driver’s seat and starts pulling out of the parking lot, she puts her hand on the center console, her palm facing toward the sky.
An open invitation. Jackie doesn’t take it for once. Music croons through the speakers, and Jackie distantly realizes it’s Bright Eyes, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Do you wish I was Lottie?” Jackie says.
Nat slams on the brakes, stopping the truck in the middle of the road. A car honks at them and then swerves around them, flipping them off and speeding off, but Nat’s eyes are locked on Jackie.
“What the fuck?” Nat chokes out as she pulls her car over, shoving it into park and spinning to face Jackie, “Where did that come from?”
“Do you?” Jackie presses.
“No! What?” Nat’s eyebrows furrow, “Why are you being crazy?”
“Don’t call me that,” Jackie scowls.
“Sorry I’m gonna call you crazy if you’re being crazy,” Nat snarks, “did something happen? Did Lottie say something weird?”
“No,” Jackie shakes her head, “she didn’t say anything.”
“Then where is this coming from?”
“Why can’t we tell the others? Everyone knew about you and Lottie, but you refuse to tell people about us. Jesus, Nat, it’s been three months.”
“Because me and Lottie weren’t, like, together! We were just fucking around,” Nat hisses, “this? This is different, Jack.”
“Is it?” Jackie can’t help but retort, “Because all we’ve been doing is fucking around in bathroom stalls. I can’t keep doing this, Nat!”
“It’s different because I’m fuckin’ terrified,” Nat yells, throwing her hands up in the air.
Jackie’s mouth clicks close, and she just stares as Nat rubs a hand over her face. Nat takes a deep breath, one hand going back on the center console. She averts her eyes, pressing her forehead to the top of the steering wheel as she takes another deep breath. Cautiously, Jackie places her hand over Nat’s.
Nat turns, her eyes a little wide, her top teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Jackie rubs her thumb over the top of Nat’s hand, and the girl relaxes, like a tightly wrung knot beginning to unravel.
“I’ve never been in a relationship this long,” Nat admits, still afraid to meet her eyes, “Like, like, what happens if we tell everyone and then something happens?”
“Do you think something will happen?” Jackie says, gently.
Nat shakes her head, “No? Yes? I don’t fuckin’ know. I just, like, I like having you to myself. You’re mine. I’m yours. I only care about me and you.”
She says it like it’s as simple as that. Jackie and Nat. Nat and Jackie. Jackie’s been half of a person since reading Shauna’s diary. She wouldn’t mind being a part of a pair again.
“Even if we tell the others, you’ll still have me,” Jackie tells her, honest to the core, “it won’t change anything.”
“It will. I’m not good with change,” Nat says, a half-smile on her lips, “you were the biggest change in my life.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Never. I would never.”
“I don’t either.”
Jackie leans forward and kisses her then, tangling their fingers together. Nat’s free hand cups her cheek, and Jackie savors the touch. She’s always run cold for as long as she’s been alive. With Nat, Jackie feels warm for once, like there’s a roaring furnace inside of her ribcage.
“People are going to talk, if they find out,” Nat murmurs, their foreheads pressed together, “and it’s not going to be pretty.”
“Who cares about them?” Jackie says, despite wanting to say I do.
“I do,” Nat says, bitter to her core, “unfortunately. Can we tell them after Nationals?”
Jackie tilts her head, and Nat’s thumb brushes against her cheekbone. The look on Nat’s face is hesitant and concerned.
“I know it’s not fair to ask this of you, I know it’s selfish,” Nat concedes, “but I’m not ready.”
“Okay,” Jackie acquiesces because feelings are bubbling to the surface that feel a lot stronger than like, “We’ll tell them after we win Nationals.”
Nat’s smile is confident, her dimples showing, even in the wake of uncertainty, like a string of condensed moonlight. Jackie captures her lips again, savoring the taste. They’ll never be in this moment again, as scary and as beautiful as that is. She might as well enjoy it while it lasts.
(If Jackie knew then what she knows now, she would have ripped her heart out and put it on an altar, showcasing her love for Nat Scatorccio. She would’ve built a shrine to her girlfriend, to her only savior in the Wilderness, and she would’ve prayed to it every day.
They’ll never make it to Nationals. This version of Jackie and Nat won’t even make it through the winter. This version of them, young and naive and only concerned about social hierarchy and gossip, will die with the first snowfall and disappear with the wind. The new version of them, though, with gnawing hunger and bloodlust and grudges that they’ll take to their graves, will appear when the winter begins to thaw.
They don’t know this yet, though. All Jackie knows is she’s been angry all of her life. Something in her wants blood. And one day, she’ll finally feed it.)