#for this story i have taken my understanding of the concept of 'subtlety' and neatly defenestrated it

[marypsue]

Sneak Peek Sunday, and this one's original fiction! Have a chunk of the ominous homoerotic makeover scene from Fearleading Squad.

...

Tiffany, unsurprisingly, turned out to be stubbornly persistent in evading Avery’s questions. When Avery asked how long Tiffany’d been cheerleading, while Tiffany was stirring together some kind of concoction of yogurt and oatmeal, Tiffany made Avery let her smear the goo all over her face instead of answering. When Avery asked whether any of the boys in town had caught Tiffany’s eye and why, despite being maybe the most desired person in the high school’s history, she hadn’t been on a million dates already, Tiffany’d just said she didn’t like being told what to do, and then asked Avery to pick out a movie. As Molly Ringwald handed over a pair of her panties on the huge TV screen (Tiffany hadn’t had Friday the 13th or Sleepaway Camp, and she’d never even heard of The Stuff), Avery had awkwardly tried a new tactic.

“God, I don’t even get why you like this movie,” she said, trying to watch Tiffany’s face without looking like she was watching Tiffany’s face. It was already hard enough to tell what Tiffany was thinking, the layer of quickly-hardening oatmeal-yogurt goop only made her expressions all the more inscrutable. “You must think Sam’s just pathetic. I bet nobody’s ever forgotten your birthday.”

It took Tiffany a long moment to answer. Avery was just starting to think she wouldn’t when she said, “You might be surprised. Hey, I think these masks might be ready to come off. Mine’s cracking.”

Avery dutifully paused the movie and followed her back upstairs to wash off the oatmeal masks. But she wasn’t going to be dissuaded so easily, this time. “Seriously? But you’re so pretty, so popular, so involved with everything. Everybody likes you.” She couldn’t stop herself from adding, “Or at least they pretend they do.”

Tiffany laughed, at that. It wasn’t her usual mocking, bell-like, I-don’t-even-have-to-care laughter. It sounded closer to unhappy. “That’s true.”

She beamed at Avery, and then grabbed the glass she’d filled with ice cubes from the fridge’s icemaker before they’d come up to her bedroom. “But that’s why I’m glad you’re here. Why I’m so happy you’re finally coming around. I think you and I could be real friends.”

It was all part of the act, and Avery knew it. Still, she found it hard to swallow around a sudden, prickly ball of guilt.

She reminded herself, again, of what she was doing this for. Who she was doing this for. Her real friends.

Still, the words tasted bitter on her tongue. “It’s shocked me to my core, but…you know, I think maybe we could, too. If we can expand your taste in music out into movies. I can’t believe you’ve never seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show. What do people even do for fun out in L.A.?”

Tiffany’s smile went a little thin. But she hid whatever had just flashed through her mind well.

“My parents used to be…pretty strict,” she said, and delicately selected one of the ice cubes from the glass. “You know. Religious. Hold still and shut your eyes, this is going to be cold.”

“Not surprised they wanted to keep you out of trouble. Isn’t Los Angeles the gang violence capital of the USA?” Avery couldn’t resist prodding. And then, as Tiffany reached forward with the ice cube, “Wait, what the hell are you planning to do with that?”

“Everybody knows that violence begins at home,” Tiffany said, smarmily putting on a breathlessly earnest, sincere tone, like some kind of moral crusader eager to get Avery to open her heart and her wallet to the cause. She even opened those blue eyes as wide as they’d go and gave her impossible lashes an innocent bat, before grabbing Avery’s shoulder to stop her from shifting backwards into the vanity. “The ice works as a toner. It helps close up your pores so you don’t get shit in them. Do it before you moisturise and it keeps you from breaking out.”

Avery shut her eyes and braced herself against the shock of cold as Tiffany rubbed the ice cube all over her freshly-washed face. Another shiver ran through her. If all beauty treatments felt this weirdly good, maybe she could start to understand why other girls bothered.

“I can’t believe you know the Rocky Horror Picture Show and not this,” Tiffany said. “What did you and that other cheerleader even talk about?”

“Courtney was the one who introduced me to Rocky Horror,” Avery said. The shock of cold she was feeling was suddenly not just from the ice cube. “Hey, do you still talk to her much? She’s been really cagey with me since she left the cheer squad. Do you have any idea why?”

Tiffany didn’t answer. She just finished rubbing the ice cube over Avery’s face, dragging it up along her cheekbones and smoothing it across her forehead towards her temples. There was a clink as she dropped it back into the glass, and then something soft battered gently against Avery’s face. “Pat that dry, and then we moisturise.”

Avery dutifully patted her face dry with the thing Tiffany’d thrown in her face, which she realised when she opened her eyes was a red terry facecloth. “Do you two not like each other or something?”

The look Tiffany gave her said, loud and clear, that she knew Avery was trying to give her a taste of her own medicine. And she thought it tasted pretty foul.

But she didn’t call Avery’s bluff. Just dabbed a little cold cream onto Avery’s freshly-toned nose with two fingers.

“You wanted to know why I don’t date,” she said, as she massaged the cream into Avery’s cheeks with the very tips of her slim fingers. Avery didn’t have to be told, this time, to shut her eyes. “And honestly, it’s partly because, I mean, have you seen the dating pool around here? Because I think every last one of these boys is swimming in the shallow end.”

Avery couldn’t resist a snort. Tiffany smacked her shoulder with the flat of one hand. “Hold still.”

Avery sat up a little straighter on the plush-topped vanity stool, tilting her face up to follow Tiffany’s gentle guiding hand under her chin. “Yeah. The water’s a little stagnant.”

She couldn’t be sure, with her eyes closed, but Avery thought that one had got her a hastily-suppressed snort in return.

“Maybe this is going to sound a little selfish,” Tiffany said, putting the cold cream back on the vanity with a little click and picking up a plastic powder case shaped like a seashell and a satin-bow-topped powder puff. Avery braced herself for something that was going to sound a lot selfish. “But right now, people are interested in me. They want my attention. They want to know my beauty secrets. They want to get invited to one of my parties. They care about what I think, what I wear, what I say, what I like – and who I don’t like.”

“Bet that feels powerful,” Avery said, more to herself than anything. But Tiffany obviously heard her. And smiled beatifically.

“More than you could imagine.” She reached out and patted Avery’s cheek. Avery tried to recoil, suddenly disgusted, but Tiffany just rubbed the fingers she’d patted Avery’s cheek with against her thumb. “Hm. Think that’s absorbed enough now to start with makeup. Shut your eyes again. And quit wriggling.”

Avery dutifully froze in place. She shut her eyes only reluctantly.

The featherlight touch of the powder puff against her forehead nearly made her jump off the stool. She took a deep breath, and gripped the stool’s underside with both hands.

Tiffany didn’t seem to notice. Or pretended she didn’t notice. “But if I picked one of these duds and let him take me out on a date, then – that’s it. Nobody cares about me anymore. It’s all about him. And, even if I dump his loser ass, then it just becomes all about who comes after him. It’s all ‘who gets the girl’. I’m nothing but some – some trophy that some boy gets to brag about winning, that they all get to pass around. And all that power? It just goes straight to him.”

She patted powder over Avery’s cheeks and chin. “Just like with Sam and the panties. Give them an inch, decide that just because they’re being nice, you can trust them, let your guard down for a second, and they’ll ruin your whole life. Just to prove they can.”

Avery didn’t know what to say to that. She’d been expecting – something shallower. Stupider. More ‘I’m better than all of you and nobody here is good enough for me’. And oh, boy, was that ever something she could hear in Tiffany’s little diatribe. But…

She couldn’t help remembering the glitter of broken glass on concrete, the rage and disgust on Tiffany’s face. I’m supposed to be in control.