#makes me miss performing in a pep band; one of the few high school memories I cherish ngl

[elshells]

In the year of our lord (Chappel Roan) 2024, "Hot to Go" has been arranged for marching band.

It's a bright era for the band gays!

[artificialqueens]

Bring It On: Fight to the Finish pt 5 (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: so this is my longest chapter yet and has been my fave to write so far ft some heavy fanservice, cute branjie moments and a hint at potential scyvie. There are only 5 bring it on films (#worldwide cheermack DOES NOT count) so I only ever planned for there to be 5 chapters titlewise, meaning I’m just gonna have to get creative with sports idioms from here. Should be one or two more after this then maybe some one shots, who knows..hope you like, thanks for all the love so far. P.s: I have a sideblog now if anyone wants to chat bring it on/branjie in general - xoxo Ashley

“Hey, you’re actually really good at that!” Brooke found herself surprised as she watched Silky play around with the batons left over from the marching bands session in the gym as they waited for Vanessa to turn up.

“Girl, we’ve all got hidden talents,” Silky laughed in response as she continued to twirl the batons with great precision, throwing and catching them to the beat of the song that played.

Not shortly after, a crowd had formed around the girls and the squad all began to dance together in their own silly ways, throwing aside the rigidity and cheer-nature of their usual routines. Feeling herself start to let loose to the music and really connect with the squad - Brooke watched some of the other cheerleader’s personalities shine and allowed herself to see a more of a unique side to her teammates.

Although she thrived on the nature of competition and routine, a part of her relished the time they were spending simply having fun. Seeing Jaren do a double pirouette from the corner of her eye, Brooke shook her head at the boy and wagged a finger in his direction, before throwing herself into pirouettes and fouettes till they were having their own little dance-off in front of the squad - Brooke leaping across the hall in a way she just felt so accustomed to. Despite the fact that she had dove headfirst into cheer and carried on swimming strong for the past few weeks, Brooke knew her love for the classic beauty of ballet would always hold a special place in her heart - messing about like this giving her the sensation of an old friend coming to visit, the warmth of nostalgia arising like she was sipping a cup of tea.

Suddenly interrupted by a single stream of claps from across the hall, Brooke stopped and turned to see Vanessa making her way over, the usual twinkle in her eyes shining bright as she watched her squad embrace themselves. Ever since her reconciliation with Jovan and performance at the pep rally, Brooke had noticed the vulnerable and kind side of Vanessa that she usually kept closeted start to spread around the school. Whilst she still had her moments of ferocity, Brooke had noticed the dilapidation of Vanessa’s guns-a-blazing approach, the girl’s highly protective defence barriers starting to lower, exposing more of her real self to the squad. Vanessa had learned that in order to succeed, she didn’t need to rule with an iron fist, instead lending that hand to the others around her and helping to push them to new heights. Pushing Brooke to new heights.

“Okay, so when we’re ya’ll gonna show me this shit?” She exclaimed towards the group with a sense of dumbfoundedness. “You know, I was just about ready to come and scream at yous that we need to step our pussies up after seeing this hoe on the cover of American Cheerleader,” Vanessa help up a magazine that Brooke was unfamiliar with, “but I think we might be able to use some of this.”

Watching the cogs turning in her friend’s brain, Brooke couldn’t help but mentally swoon at the way Vanessa scrunched her face up when she concentrated - almost as if Brooke could visibly see all the pictures she painted inside her mind.

“Is that Vick?” Akeria snatched the magazine from Vanessa’s hand in order to get a closer look at it, Brooke joining her in tandem.

Vicky Taylor, Brooke recognised the girl on the cover from her “Cheer 101” with Vanessa when she had first joined the squad. The ruthless leader of the Vixens, Brooke knew the girl had a reputation of ferociousness and a willingness to fight. The sly fox of the Cheer world, it was a well know fact that Vicky did not shy from addressing the lingering elephant in the room at any circumstance. Not only were the squad an intense rival for the Amazons but the feud between Vanessa and the other captain seemed to be deep-rooted into the woods of the competition.

“She’s not that bad,” Jaren rolled his eyes as the members of the squad gaped at the cover, “she can be a real sweetheart.”

“Just cause you taught her how to rap like 2 nationals ago,” Monet nudged her friend in the ribs, resulting in a squeal from Jaren’s behalf.

“Irregardless, that should be me on that cover,” a wave of determination crashed over the captain, “Ever since she made me drop the spirit stick at camp, we have always come in second place to that girl. We’ve been looking at this all wrong. I spent so long trying to be like the Vixens, trying to do what they do - but we need to be different, we need to take what we got and make ourselves unique.”

Jay nodded adamantly in the background; “For the first time ever, I think you’re speaking utter sense, Vanjie.”

“Don’t get me wrong, we’re here to cheer first and foremost - but if we use the talents that we all got and learn how to apply them to the competition, I think we could hit the jackpot. Those judges sit and watch repetitive moves all day - if we throw in a couple of Brooke’s ballet moves, a few of Silk’s batons and a death drop here and there then we got the recipe for success.”

“Maybe it’ll undo that curse!” Silky boomed, garnering laughs from the entire squad.

A pang of longingness hit Brooke - although she was now more a member of the squad that she ever had been - she felt a hint of jealousy at the thought of the years they had all spent growing up together in the smaller neighbourhood. She was suddenly struck by the fear of all the memories she had missed, feeling envy at the thought that some of these girls had spent their whole lives knowing Vanessa. Even though she was usually having fun herself, Brooke was a long time sufferer of the fear of missing out, and coupled with the intense crush she had developed on the cheer captain, she knew she’d have given anything at that moment to have spent those nights at cheer camp, sneaking out of dorms and telling legends with Vanessa and the squad.

“Get warmed up then we’ll see what we can do,” Vanessa set the squad away at stretches and laps of the gym before pulling Brooke to one side.

Despite being exposed to her increasingly more, Brooke still felt that rush of blood go to her head every time Vanessa spoke to her, every time she felt her smooth skin so much as brush against her own, every time she heard her distinctive laugh or voice fill up the room.

“You okay?” Vanessa asked her, clearly noticing the slight dip in Brooke’s disposition.

“It’s fine, you know how I overthink things,” Brooke brushed off her anxieties, longing so much to open up to the girl right then and there. To give her everything and more. Every inch of her thoughts, feelings, body, mind. It was all hers.

“You’re a star, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa looked dead into Brooke’s eyes with a confidence that could shatter glass, “Don’t ever stop thinking it. Now hurry up so you can teach me all this ballerina shit!”

Enlightened by the other girl’s simple yet meaningful words encouragement, Brooke’s smile beamed from cheek to cheek: “And then the student became the master.”

***

“Do I look okay?” Brooke asked her best friend as she examined herself in her full-length mirror, her need for perfection driving her to change her outfit 5 times before he arrived and grab her hairbrush to fix any strays every time he ushered her to leave. Finally deciding on a denim off-the-shoulder dress that exposed the majority of her back, she raked around her room looking for a bag to match.

Beep. The horn sounded outside.

So maybe it wasn’t just her own battle for perfection driving her to look her best.

“For the last time, yes!” Jovan grabbed her arm and ushered her out of the house and into the car, where his sister waited impatiently for the pair.

“You get lost in there or something?” Vanessa barked at her brother whilst shaking her eyes at Brooke.

“It’s not my fault,” he raised his eyebrows at his sister - Brooke happy to see that the siblings held a much closer relationship than they had when she first moved to Tampa. Even though they annoyed each other from time to time, the love between the two was evident and Brooke enjoyed nothing more than being able to spend time with both of them.

“We’re picking Brad up on the way,” Vanessa informed the pair - a part of Brooke sinking at the thought of having to sit in the back of the car with Vanessa’s douchebag boyfriend.

Despite knowing her crush on the girl was never something she’d indulge in and that Vanessa didn’t feel the same way, Brooke still knew Vanessa was better than Brad. Seeing and hearing the way he treated her and dabbled with other girls when Vanessa wasn’t around, Brooke found herself continually baffled at how one of the strongest and most determined women she knew - in fact, the strongest and most determined woman she knew - allowed herself to be walked all over by a high school has been waiting to happen.

“Don’t roll your eyes,” Vanessa blurted as she started to pull out of the street, her eyes focused on the road ahead of her.

“How could even you see that I’m rolling my eyes?” Brooke responded. Reason number eighty-nine why she believed Vanessa was some form of superhuman.

“Cause I know you,” Vanessa retorted - remembering the way Brooke consoled her after she confided in her about Brad’s cheating.

“She’s right,” Jovan piped in, “I don’t know why you give that boy the time of day.”

“You don’t understand,” Vanessa responded abruptly, an awkward silence lingering until they pulled up to the front of Brad’s house and he entered the car.

Sitting next to Brooke was reason number one - in fact, the only reason - why she believed Vanessa was the stupidest person on the planet.

“Hey babe,” he greeted Vanessa, before turning to Brooke and smiling.

“Brooke, you ready to get pissed?” he pulled a can of cider from his backpack and tossed it to her.

“I’m good - practice and everything,” Brooke responded through gritted teeth, taking her every ounce of self-control not to slap the bones out of him.

Okay, maybe it did have a little bit to do with her crush on Vanessa.

“I’m sure Vanj will let you have a night off, won’t you babe?” he grinned at Brooke.

Boy was she wishing she’d spent longer getting ready.

***

Not only had half of their year gathered to celebrate Akeria’s birthday but there was also a wide range of people Brooke had never met from neighbouring schools and the world of cheer combined. A bittersweet taste lingered in her mouth - here she was with all of her friends, her best friend and the girl she admired so much yet she felt as though she wasn’t fully there, never fully present. Lucky to have Jovan by her side to keep her grounded, a familiar newcomer to the life parties and high school socialising, Brooke was starting to wish she’d taken the cider from Brad nonetheless, longing to rinse away her anxieties in the short term at least.

“That boy has his eye on you,” she pointed out to her friend, taking note of the glances that kept getting thrown in their direction from across the room.

“Him?” Jovan nodded his head in the direction of the long-haired brunette, clearly panicked at the thought of interaction with him.

“Yes, but don’t stare like that you’ll freak him out!” Brooke laughed at her friend who was now taking suspicious looking glances at the boy in red.

“Oh my god,” Brooke gave him a light slap on the face, “Just go say hi!”

“Easy for you to say,” Jovan’s huffy side started to come out, Brooke finding pleasure in watching him get all nervous and flustered in the presence of a good looking boy. “Look at him. He’s like a fucking pristine Prince I don’t know why he’s looking at my shabby ass,”

“Maybe he’s into a bit of grit,” Brooke responded before realising that the boy had started to make his way over to them. “Just be cool.”

“Hi, do I know you?” he asked Jovan, his eyes scanning Brooke’s friend’s body up and down.

“I don’t think so,” Jovan looked down to the floor. Brooke swore she could see his cheeks turn a deep scarlet. She would never let him live this down, she thought to herself as she began to make an exit, ignoring her usual brazen friend’s sudden pleading eyes as they screamed at her for help. Giving him an assuring nod (you’ve got this), she set off to find Vanessa, desperate to tell her all about the cute boy her brother was talking to.

“Hey, you seen Vanessa?” she asked Monet after searching the kitchen, garden and living room for the dark-haired girl.

“I think I saw her and Brad upstairs,” she responded with a smile, pointing Brooke in the right direction.

Although she knew she may end up third wheeling the couple, Brooke fruitfully believed she was doing Vanessa a favour by dragging her away from Brad - having not seen the couple at all since they arrived at the party.

Going to walk into the first door she came across, Brooke stopped dead in her tracks as she opened it, seeing Brad - topless, kissing someone, someone who wasn’t Vanessa.

“Shit,” the girl muttered before grabbing her clothes and running past Brooke, leaving a purple balconette bra on the floor.

Frozen in place, Brooke didn’t know how to react.

Yes, she already knew that Brad had been unfaithful to Vanesa, but something about seeing him with the girl when Vanessa was in the same house, when she’d driven him here, something about seeing it with her own eyes, something about the bottle of lube on the table, the tacky violet bra on the floor made her want to give him a piece of her mind. And that she did.

“You want a piece, Brooke?” he laughed as she strode over to him, a kilogram of fury in every step.

“She deserves so much better than you,” Brooke jabbed at his chest, a sudden urge to protect Vanessa coming over her, the way the girl repeatedly brushed off his cheating, the way she told Brooke not to phone him when she was upset, playing on her mind.

“Oh, you want to get handsy?” he grinned at Brooke, placing his own hand on her arm.

A ball of slime fell straight from his mouth and Brooke was revolted.

And then Brooke’s world came crashing down.

“Hey, Monet said you we’re-” she started. But didn’t finish.

Turning around, Brooke saw the pain in her eyes, instantly realising the mistake - the image that lay before Vanessa. The shirtless boyfriend. The blonde best friend. The removed bra. The lube. The fucking lube. She watched the heartbreak play across the theatre screen. She wanted to pause. To rewind. But she couldn’t. Before she could even think the credits were rolling and Vanessa was fleeing the screen, desperate not to get stuck in the aisles giving way to slow paced families and chattering gaggles of teens. She had upped and left.

“No, Vanessa,” she chased her out of the room and down the stairs, repeating it till she turned. Praying she would turn. Not a care in the world who heard or whether she was making a scene because all she needed was for Vanessa to turn.

She didn’t.

“I didn’t do it!” She shouted after the girl. They were outside now, Vanessa running to her car and jumping into the front seat.

“Please.” Before she knew it she was stood in front of the bonnet. Headlights bright in her eyes but she could still see Vanessa’s face. The haunting look of someone who had been crushed into a million pieces and tried to stick themselves back together with fluff-covered sellotape.

Vanessa revved her engine.

Brooke stayed still.

“Move!” she shouted.

Brooke stayed still.

“Fuck sake,” she could make out the movement of Vanessa’s lips as she got out of the car, a sense of hope filling in Brooke’s mind, only for Vanessa to stride straight ahead of her.

“Guess I’m walking home,” she laughed to herself as she built pace on Brooke.

God, she was fast. Reason number 90 why Vanessa is superhuman.

“Vanessa!” Brooke shouted after her friend, “Can you just stop so I can explain what happened you’ve got it all wrong.”

She kept walking.

“Vanessa,” she called again, the girl gaining pace, Brooke wanted to try and tell her about the other girl but knew she was too far away to hear.

She stopped.

“Fuck you,” Vanessa responded.

The words stung. Although Brooke had understood what it looked like from Vanessa’s point of view, she found herself getting frustrated at the girl, did she really not trust her? She knew he cheated, she already knew.

“Was that your way of showing me I’m too good for him? Cause it fucking worked Brooke, ” she said to the girl, her voice rising mid-sentence.

About the ask the girl how she could assume the worst of her so quickly, Vanessa started to let loose at Brooke.

“It wasn’t me Vanessa,” she shouted - her usual polite manners and calm reasoning were thrown out the window. She knew from an objective standpoint that she should just sit down and tell Vanessa what happened but in the heat of the moment when Vanessa was shouting and Brooke started to feel hurt at the accusations, everything was jumbled and a logical approach wasn’t even in the distant horizon.

“You knew anyway!” she found herself getting mad at the girl, mad at the girl she cared for so much letting her boyfriend stomp all over her tiny frame, “You fucking knew!”

“But it’s you,” Vanessa responded, clearly coming from that same place of hurt Brooke had witnessed the night she fought with Jovan, “You don’t understand shit Brooke, so stop acting like you know everything.”

“I understand plenty. You let your boyfriend cheat on you again and again with no consequences but then take it out on me with not an ounce of blame on precious Brad. I get that you feel betrayed but it wasn’t even fucking me, Vanessa.”

“God,” Vanessa was delirious, her eyes looking up to the sky, a laugh escaping her hoarse throat. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Her stomach full of butterflies, Brooke wanted everything to go back to the way it was. She wanted that magic remote to alter time. She wanted to pause and stay with Vanessa, calm her down, make sure she was okay. She wanted to kiss her, to kiss her till she couldn’t yell anymore, till she believed Brooke, till she understood that all Brooke ever wanted to do was look out for her.

She imagined it, her lips on Vanessa’s the way they had been in the night club - but for real.

The butterflies escaped; punching holes in her skin.

She imagined holding her, hands in her hair. Not the way Brad had been with the redhead - she’d hold her tenderly like a China doll, so brittle that it could break in her hands. She’d run her hands through her dark hair and kiss her with passion, with promise, with whatever it took.

Brooke knew there was nothing more she wanted at that moment than to kiss Vanessa Mateo.

And then Vanessa kissed her.

For real.

She wanted to pinch herself but her hands were glued to Vanessa, magnets unable to resist the gravitational pull.

It was everything she’d imagined and nothing like it at the same time.

Because it was real.

She tasted like artificial cherries. Sweet. She was so sweet.

If Vanessa really was a China doll then Brooke would have broken her by now. The pressure they exerted on each other getting larger and larger, they both gripped tightly as if their lives depended on it. As if they’d been waiting for it, starving for it.

Brooke had, she thought to herself. Had Vanessa?

She didn’t want to question it. All she knew is that it was happening and she wouldn’t stop our of fear that it wouldn’t happen again.

Vanessa’s hands spitting flames everywhere.

She was submerged in the heat, plunged deep into the fiery pit.

Vanessa’s hands on her. All over her.

She was in heaven. Or was it hell. It didn’t matter, because Vanessa was there riding that same train. Until it stopped and left them deserted in a neutral limbo. They heard shouting, their names. Footsteps. They broke apart.

Brooke was confused at where they had arrived and lost in this new world, a familiar voice snapping her back to reality.

Jovan.

Everything flooded back to her. Jovan. Brad. The Redhead. The Amazons.

Vanessa.

“Are yous okay?” he ran over to them, putting an instinctive arm around his sister.

“Brad cheated on me again,” she whispered, barely making eye contact with her brother as he shepherded her away to the car, Brooke in tow.

“Brooke saw him, with another girl.”

Dramatic irony loomed over Brooke, casting a shadow behind her. Vanessa didn’t care about Brad. She cared about Brooke.

The silence was abundant as they sat in the car, Jovan about to turn the engine on before he stopped and turned to the girls: “I’ll be two seconds.”

And he was gone. And they were alone.

“It wasn’t me,” Brooke whispered even though no one was there.

“I know. I just thought it was and it made me-” she stopped mid-sentence. Brooke could almost sense that painful look from the backseat.

“You need to break up with Brad,”

“I can’t,” Vanessa whispered - her fears a can of worms starting to spill out of her. “Brooke, if you tell anyone, if anyone knew,-” she stopped herself again. Brooke could hear her trying to fight the tears, the build up in her throat, she could make out her hands on her eyelashes, willing herself not to cry.

“You need to break up with Brad,” she repeated.

“I think that’s fucked now anyway,” Vanessa responded, “What am I gonna do? Brooke, you can’t tell anyone about that, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

But Brooke’s mind was out of answers, out of solutions, out of reasoning. The only fact her brain could discern was that kissing Vanessa was a lot better than not kissing Vanessa. Now that she’d had a taste of the forbidden cherry she needed another bite. And she’d take one even if it killed her cause god did it taste sweet.

And then Jovan returned. Brooke couldn’t focus on the grin on his face, the happiness he was radiating because her mind couldn’t focus on anything but Vanessa and before she knew it she was outside of her own house, time playing its part as the cruel mistress.

She didn’t sleep that night.

Often she dreamed of the head cheerleader and couldn’t wait to fall asleep so she could nourish in all of her feelings without the guilt. Tonight, the dream was real life and she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head - right until the “what was I thinking”. The painstaking cruel “what was I thinking” that kept it from being a dream after all. But Brooke knew that no matter how much that part hurt, it was worth what came before. She didn’t care about getting burned when she got to dance in the embers - for her, that was enough.

***

Brooke waited and waited the following Monday. She wouldn’t show, she figured. Because she hadn’t texted, she hadn’t called. She’d left Brooke a glass slipper then disappeared once the clock struck midnight.

“Look, we’ll just do some more practice of our routine, it doesn’t look like she’s gonna show and there’s no point in learning something new,” Akeria announced to the group as time started ticking even more and there was no sign of their captain.

“Maybe she’s just late?” Brooke asked with a sense of hopefulness - her mind was at a loss over the weekend, circles of confusion running around her.

She didn’t want to see Vanessa because she had such strong feelings for her, she needed to see her because Vanessa, too, understood what was going on and there was no one else Brooke could talk to about how fucked up her head was since Friday. Everything that had built up since she moved to Tampa had all released at once and she was left feeling empty. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” Brooke wanted to know more than anything - did she feel the same, had she felt the same all along. Unanswered questions made list after list in her head till she found herself starting to walk to Vanessa’s house, always too scared to enter, always too scared to knock, always turning back and taking the smoothest course home instead of the dark, winding, forbidden path to the girl who had kissed her, always too scared of tripping on the branch of an uprooted tree and falling to her demise.

And then all of a sudden she was in front of her. But the spirit that once filled her till she might burst, the pep she carried on her back to practice wasn’t. The things that made Vanessa herself were nowhere to be found - just the shadow of a girl who wanted to be different, who wanted to stand out and be a team, who wanted to kiss Brooke.

“Get in position for a 360 helicopter,” she shouted towards the group - no welcome, no team talk, no look in Brooke’s direction.

“Girl, you know that’s illegal,” Monet looked shocked at the captain.

“Yeah,” Silky chimed in, “I know you’ve been through a breakup but you’re not really thinking straight Vanjie,”

She had broken up with Brad, Brooke realised - her heart began to warm. But then she remembered that she hadn’t texted, hadn’t called. She remembered the “I don’t know what I was thinking.” It didn’t matter that Vanessa had broken up with Brad because she didn’t seem to want Brooke either way.

“This is nothing to do with my breakup. Sure, it’s all fun and games being team spirit and doing grand-jetes but is that really gonna make us beat the Vixens? I’ve been rethinking and we need extreme,”

The squad looked at her with a gulp of astonishment and surprise. There was that sneer of cold command - gone the kind diplomat who the group had began to know.

“We’ve spent weeks learning that stuff, Vanjie,” Jaren gave her a pointed look, clearly fed up with her hot and cold antics. “You can’t change it again, this close to nationals.”

“Why aren’t you in formation for a 360 helicopter?” she responded, ignoring the squads clear discern with her sudden change of pace and heart.

“Brooke, are you gonna get into base position or just stand there letting your ass form it’s own Instagram?”

If she thought Vanessa’s last words to her stung. Then these ones ripped through her skin like she was being stabbed. Quickly and sharply, Vanessa left her to bleed out.

Vanessa was a ball of sporadic blaze and Brooke didn’t know how much longer she could take the changes in her mood. One minute she was beaming with all the heat of a thousand suns. The next she was an icy queen readying to crack anyone that got in her way.

So Brooke did one of the most difficult things she had done in her life - she walked away from Vanessa, straight out of practice, straight out of school, as far away as she could get from the girl who could make her so elated one minute and so beneath her the next. She felt like walking all the way to Toronto and back to her old life, where she had never felt the sinking of heartbreak like this, her naive mind a place of utopia.

***

Her time giving up on Vanessa didn’t last long. 3 days to be precise. After trying and failing miserably to avoid practice, avoid her in the corridors and even avoid Jovan - Brooke had tipped over her boiling point. She knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, she knew she was supposed to be resisting her temptation, but before long she was back walking on that gloomy path, her ability to control her desires out of the window. She had walked away from Vanessa that Monday afternoon but knew she wouldn’t be able to do it again - the need for answers and the lack of knowledge about her own life driving her insane, she needed to know why Vanessa had kissed her, why she acted that way at practice.

Without out even processing where she was going, she made her way to Vanessa’s house, almost like muscle memory had taken her there. Except, this time she didn’t turn around and take the steady course - she dove into the unknown.

She made her way to the girl’s window and tapped, and only then did she realise what she was doing, but it was too late to go back. She’d already taken the gamble and all that was left to do was to wait in nervousness for the result.

Before her was the face of the girl she’d tried every precaution to avoid. As she opened the window, leaving only the density of air between them, Brooke couldn’t tell if she’d won or lost her bet either way.

Bags under her eyes and hairs falling stray from her ponytail, Vanessa looked like she hadn’t slept in a week but Brooke still found herself mesmerised nonetheless.

“I have a front door, yanno,” she broke the silence first.

“Didn’t think my ass would fit through,” Brooke raised her eyebrows at the girl. She may have spent the past few days living and breathing Vanessa but her feelings of passion and desire to kiss the girl again did not fully overshadow the harsh words Vanessa had uttered to her. She wouldn’t let her off the hook that easily.

“Touche,” Vanessa opened the window wider before looking down at Brooke’s asset in question, “Think it might just fit through here.”

“Why would I wanna come in your room, Vanessa?”

“The same reason why you’re outside my window at 2AM,” she responded bluntly.

“Touche,” Brooke rolled her eyes, unable to help herself from falling back into that natural lull of playfulness with Vanessa as she climbed through the frame and into the room, holding onto the other girl’s hand for balance.

That spark never did go away.

“I have a lot of questions for you,” Brooke stated, unsure how to approach the situation, unsure of how to be so close to the other girl without pinning her arms against the wall and kissing her until her jaw ached.

“Shoot,” Vanessa responded, sitting cross-legged on the bed, her hands playing with the cuffs of her oversized jumper. What Brooke had realised to be her own jumper from the night Vanessa had slept at her house. It probably smelt of cherries now, she started to get herself chased away by her thoughts before remembering why she was there.

“Why did you kiss me?” Brooke asked, joining Vanessa on the bed and pressing on the bottom of her chin with her finger so that they’d be making eye contact. She needed Vanessa to look into her eyes and tell her she meant it, tell her she really didn’t know what she was thinking in order to stay that least bit sane. In order to get out of the horrible limbo that she had been floating around in.

“Why do you think?” Vanessa gave Brooke a pointed look.

“I want you to tell me,” Brooke responded, placing a reassuring hand over Vanessa’s, the way she had when she’d watched the girl open up previously.

“I thought you’d got with Brad and I think it just made me see how real it all was,” her voice started to break.

“All what?”

“All this. You, Brooke. From that first time I saw you in the cafeteria, you stood out to me from everyone who watched us, something about you just caught my eye and then you were here in my kitchen and I just about died. I had it all under control, I had a boyfriend who no one questioned, I was captain of the Amazons, I could focus on that. And then I saw you and I just thought ‘god, this girl’s gonna fuck it all up’”

“You didn’t like me,” Brooke said, her mind not fully adjusting to what was happening. She thought she was coming for closure but was now opening Pandora’s Box for all the baggage to spill out. “You didn’t want me on the squad,”

“You really are a dumb, blonde cheerleader, aren’t you?” Vanessa shook her head and laughed to herself like she had when Brooke had asked her about Brad, about why this was any different to what she already knew. “Fucking hell, do I have to spell this out for you?”

“I’d like that,” Brooke laughed, “In a cheer.”

“You just did something to me Brooke, and it scared me. It really fucking scared me and it still is. I tried to push you away but felt guilty so I tried to be your friend, tried to fight it. I let go at the club, but the thought of you with Brad just sent me insane and I couldn’t anymore,”

“It doesn’t matter Vanessa,” Brooke gave Vanessa a reassuring squeeze on the hand. “I’m just glad I wasn’t making all of this up. No one cares. Everyone knows you’re a boss ass bitch and you’d stomp on anyone who got in your way, I don’t think they’d say anything to you. And your parents wouldn’t mind, look at Jovan. You don’t need to keep putting up these defences and trying to push me away every time you show your feelings, there’s nothing wrong with it,“

“I don’t care what people would say about me Brooke, I care about what they’d think. I wanna be known for my talent not who I like. I know it’s 2019 and all this bullshit but I just don’t want that Brooke, I’m ashamed of it. And my parents are different, they love Jovan.”

“They love you,” Brooke pleaded with the girl.

“I don’t want to talk about them,” Vanessa responded and Brooke knew that she had reached her breaking point, with nothing more to do than to pull the other girl into a hug.

And then they were kissing.

If she thought that she’d felt the most passion she was ever capable of feeling on Saturday, then she was wrong. Vanessa was extremely dehydrated and all she had left was the tall glass of Brooke, right there on her bed - and Brooke just couldn’t help but just give herself away.

She kissed with intensity and passion. If an earthquake came and the walls around them started to fall then Brooke wouldn’t have noticed - she was fully engrossed In Vanessa. Vanessa’s mouth pressing against hers. Vanessa’s tongue sliding its way into her mouth with careful precision and warmth. Vanessa’s teeth pressing softly onto Brooke’s bottom lip.

“God, I’ve wanted you to do that for a while,” Brooke whispered to the girl, holding her face between her palms, looking deep into her dark eyes, just stopping to make sure it was all real.

“What about this?” Vanessa asked, a sultry look melting over her face as she ripped the bobble out of her hair and pushed Brooke onto her back, legs either side of her. Slowly she made her way on top of the girl, taking the time to note every detail about her - the look on her face, the way her blonde tendrils spread across the pillow so haphazardly and neatly at the same time.

Although fully aware that she was staring at the other girl, Brooke couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes as Vanessa pressed her body against hers and kissed her again. She watched as Vanessa’s dainty hands made to the edge of her shirt. The fireworks were bigger, better, hotter and all over Brooke’s body. She was fully submerged in the inferno, riding the train down to hell, knowing yet not caring about the consequences.

Nodding her head in consent, the unspoken bond between the two was clear as Vanessa moved her hands up Brooke’s pale chest, caressing her the way no boy had ever done before. So careful and graceful yet so hot and lustful in synchronisation.

The reasons why Vanessa was a super-human built and built till the number reached infinity and the mental list combusted into a million fragments of the beautiful Latina.

Brooke’s back arched with the need to be with Vanessa, to give her everything and more, to release all of the emotions she’d had since that first day and show her how she really felt in a way that transcended the English language.

Her hands made her way through the girl’s dark hair, down to her lower back, exploring Vanessa’s body in a frantic exciting way - unable to stop and stay anywhere at the thought of what lay beyond.

They were two athletes, two perfectionists, pushing themselves to further and further limits till the race was over and they didn’t even know who had came in first place, who had crossed that barrier before the other, but it didn’t matter, because as they lay there holding one another in the beautiful catastrophe of Vanessa’s bed, the only thing that mattered was that they had done it together.

[wumbleberry-fc]

Chai, Flowering Tea, Blueberry-muffin Tea, Kombucha

Chai: Where do you want to travel next?

I would like to visit Canada, since I’m going to live within 60 miles of the border real soon, and I would also like to visit more states in the US, as I have been in 20 states now (not including only being in an airport).

Flowering Tea: What is a movie you can always watch?

I am always down to see the movie Airplane! It’s hilarious I recommend it with high regards.

Blueberry-muffin Tea: Tell me a memory that makes you smile.

This is the story of June 2nd. (WARNING: VERY LONG)

So, the last assembly of the school year is dedicated to the senior class, and it’s known as the Senior Assembly. It features speeches by a couple students, final performances by senior drillers and senior cheerleaders, a performance by ‘Man Drill’ (where some male juniors dress up and perform in a hilarious parody of what regular drill might do, meme style), performances by any senior soloists or groups of senior students who wish to play something for the class (2016 featured a lovely original jazzy performance by all the senior brass, and then some students sang ‘Fix You,’ among other things), announcements of the staff who will be leaving with the seniors, department honors,  and then there is a moving up thing where each class transitions to the next class, and the seniors go into the middle of the gym and watch a slideshow of whatever pictures the students sent in, and then the band plays the alma mater for the last time for them (also, they play at the entrance procession as well).

This year, it was combined with Gordy Games, which is a day where pretty much classes are super short, and then it’s a fun, casual day, with food trucks on campus, bouncy houses, a dodgeball tournament, video games, a movie, and yearbook distribution, where anybody can go wherever they want and nobody cares what you do, so long as it’s legal. It’s the one day where no administrator even semi-actively tries to enforce the no underclassman off-campus policy, and it’s just a super easy day to not worry about the end-of-year stress and just be kids for a day.

Well, this year, I was one of the three seniors who gave a speech. Back in late April, word was sent that they were looking for seniors interested in speaking at graduation. One student would speak at graduation, a couple would speak at the Senior Assembly, and one would speak at the Last Lesson.

Only a total of 7 of us even bothered to draft a potential speech. A week after writing the draft and presenting it to a panel of teachers (on May 1st), I found out that I was one of those chosen for the Senior Assembly (which was the one I wanted).

Flash forward a bit: Three days before the assembly, I was pulled from my last period and told to report to the principal. When I got there, she told me that a meeting should’ve happened way earlier but she was swamped. She then told me that there was no flow in my speech at all, there seemed to be no clear point, and it needed to be completely rewritten, and so I promised that I’d have a brand new speech written with a point and a flow by lunch the next day (Yep! 21 hours to rewrite from scratch a 5-minute speech).

The next day, which just so happens to be my birthday, I had my new speech printed out and ready, and I was a ball of nerves as I walked into her office at 11:30. She had me read the new speech, and she said “This is a million times better, thank you. I approve of this speech,” and I was so relieved oh my goodness.

Now onto the day of the event and the happy memories!

It was a late start Friday (8:50 instead of 7:20), but we had to be there by 6:30, which was fine. We did the run-through of things, and when us three speakers finished, we were able to go, and I joined the philharmonic orchestra in a zero period rehearsal to practice our combined pieces for the concert the week after, and then we had 12 minute classes.

The entrance was long but I loved walking in to the sounds of everyone cheering for our class with the band playing some pep tunes and it was great! There was a greeting, the drill performance, the first speaker (who was alright, not very emotionally stirring or anything. It was... speechy.), the cheerleaders, the Man Drill, and then it was my turn.

I went up to the podium, and gave this speech:

Hello. I am Alex Walter, and I have one thing to say:

I love Hazen.

Well, I have more to say than just that. I stand here before you today representing the senior class. I am not a Representative of the class, I am not the four-year three-sport varsity athlete, I am not the most popular guy in the class—I am a regular, run-of-the-mill senior student. Except for one thing.

I love Oliver M. Hazen Senior High School. After 4 years, not many of the 388 of us can say the same. While I don’t hold the belief that ‘Hazen is whack,’ I do understand where it comes from.

It began four years ago, when 368 of us sat in these bleachers for the first time as a Hazen student. At our orientation, we were oriented to Hazen, told the rules and guidelines, and given our first warning about our culminating project. Immediately after, we forgot our way around, nobody remembered to not clump around in major hallways and stairwells, and were told not to put off our culminating project. Four years later, and we still don’t know the bell schedule, where everything is in the school, how to keep walking in the hallways, and what the culminating project is.

Furthermore, thanks to No Child Left Behind, we were privileged to have the opportunity to take all these BRAND NEW Standardized Tests. Wasn’t that Smarter Balanced Assessment Consortium fun!? And how about that new version of the SAT WITH Essay?!

Miscommunication, though, is one of the biggest reasons Hazen isn’t always kept in the highest regard. I miss the days where the food services accounts emailed about a low balance $5.00 before overdrafting, instead of $5.00 after. I’m waiting for the day when the system finally marks excused absences as excused. Especially when I was in the Lecture Hall all day. And speaking of the Lecture Hall, as I pointed out there during the Constitutional Convention, it took three and a half years to find out how to check how many detention hours I had. Luckily, despite not being the best student, I didn’t have any.

Beyond all of this, though, we must keep in mind that, just like life, Hazen is more than a few things. Hazen has many layers, just like onions, ogres, and all of us. We are more than our grades and test scores. We have our special interests, hobbies, priorities, and lifestyles. Our beloved Assistant Principal Mr. ____ is more than a strict disciplinarian. He is a loving father, a fantastic dancer, and the best reader of Green Eggs and Ham that I have ever met! And Hazen is more than kids who don’t listen, government-mandated and -implemented educational standards, and faulty electronic systems.

Hazen provides amazing acceptance and diversity in both opportunities and activities. Seriously, last year we formed a club where we would literally sit around and play Super Smash Bros. Brawl for an hour and a half each week. And that is on top of D&D club and Gamer’s Guild club.

We have a Gay Straight Alliance, a Black Student Union, an Asian Student Coalition, and a Latino Student Union. We have the Yearbook, the Kilt, and Lit Mag, which all feature superb writing and artwork! We have a drama department that puts on an astounding two shows a year, or in the case of this year, eight! We have top-class, state championship-winning FBLA, Drill, Cheer, Choir, Orchestra, and Band programs! WE HAVE A MARCHING BAND!!!!! We have a school store operated by DECA that introduced me to the wonderful world of bagels. We even have athletics!, who, while they might not win all their games, they win spots in our hearts.

I personally don’t participate in all of these activities and groups, as, well, it’s hard to be an active member in seven groups who all meet at 2:15 on Thursday. But the ability to have so many choices to pick and choose from is brilliant.

It’s these choices that define our Hazen experience. For me, I chose to join the band. I joined a group that not only gets to make music, but gets to support our school and our community. I got to scream, or cheer, to my heart’s content and dance like nobody was watching at games. I got to play stand tunes and pop songs for you all. I got to grow as an individual in both musical maturity and emotional maturity. I gained an accepting environment filled with friendly people. And by marching this year, I even got the athletic component in and did some physical exercise. I got the full Hazen experience, all in one.

It’s our choices that characterize and embody Hazen as a whole, and, I have to say that I don’t want to leave. You make me proud to be a Highlander. You make Hazen a place I want to be at. You make Hazen a place I love.

I’ll miss you.

(I know at least two people who recorded my speech, but I still haven’t seen either of them so I can’t provide that for you guys, but it was beautiful!)

After that, it was a Orchestral Quartet, the final senior speaker (who’s speech was sad and deep), the senior dances, the farewells to the departing teachers, the moving up, the slideshow, and then we left for Gordy Games.

At Gordy Games, I kept receiving compliments on my speech, and I hung out with my three greatest friends. We ended up bailing the school, and went an got Thai food at a place about a mile from campus, and then walked over to a park another mile away and had a picnic and it was my first ever picnic type thing and we just sat there for over 2 hours eating and talking and hanging out and it was like the best ever, and then we walked another 2 miles back to one of our houses, and departed from there at around 5, after 4.5 hours together.

And every time I think about that day, my face just brightens up completely, because it was the four of us, together, completely happy on a stress-free afternoon being best friends and I love them all and that is one of the happiest days of my life!

TL;DR: A speech that I had to rewrite last-minute for a school-wide assembly went brilliantly well and afterwards I hung out with my 3 favorite people (that I’ve met physically) and had an even better time, for one of the best days in my life.

Kombucha: What do you order on pizza?

Either an all meat pizza, an all meat stuffed pizza, a cheese pizza, a sausage and green pepper pizza, or what I just found to be good, a chicken bacon ranch pizza.

-----

Thanks for the asks!!!

[stitchedhart]

-THE DIAROSE-

High School life has its own charm and a bunch of pleasures that only teenagers can truly enjoy. Both in the class and outdoors, the high school student receives the greatest amount of happiness from all sides of life. Next to home and parents, high school is the place, where our characters are polished and shaped day by day. This is where we get rid of our narrow-mindedness and start to build our priorities. We learn to be sympathetic and liberal. It is in high school that we find new pals and form lasting friendship connections. We fruitfully develop the spirit of mutual give and take deep inside of our mind. It is in high school that we learn the useful habits of self-control and compliance, which then help us in a grown up life routine…

It was a crisp and beautiful Saturday morning in August. Out of my not-so-happy, not-so-sad, and not-so-gorgeous life in a city that never sleeps, my mobile phone buzzed out loud, signalling me that i was just added to a group chat. I checked it out…my high school classmates from 2 decades ago. I join in the chatting frenzy and in a snap my phone went on buzzing like crazy from morning ‘til night the next day.

It brought a pang of longing in my heart hearing all their stories. We’ve gone a long way. After 20 years, many of us are already successful in the field we have chosen to pursue. But more than the longing is a bliss in my heart. All of us are eager to share bits and pieces of our stories after 2 decades. The group chat was arranged by Edsel Antonio to catch up for the lost times after high school graduation in 1996. Edsel is now a seasoned Architect in a private firm. Successful in his own rightful ways.

Like magic we are transported back in time…when we are the 16 years old students teasing and bantering inside our classroom while waiting for our next subject… We walked down memory lane and we laughed hard until our tummy hurts.

Two decades ago…

We love extra curricular activities. Our batch has always been enthusiastic when it comes to things like this. We love to introduce new ideas, suggest extraordinary undertakings. The good thing is, our teachers love our ideas. Our batch is the pioneer group to conceptualize the “Pasiklaban sa Eskuwelahan, a Variety Show”, featuring Battle of the bands, which have given birth to Sais Marias Band and the Soundscape Band. 

The cheering squad, pep songs & nutri jingle contest, our batch always have aced the performances. 

Good singers also came from our group. The Edsel and Dean Althea Arteta Manuel (Bansyong-Tettet) tandem. Who can forget their number during a “Kinantaran” program in our school wherein “Saniata” was the trademark song. Their voices truly blend that anyone who hears them can get goose bumps. The enchanting voice of Vachelene Vargas Dupaya is also a winner. The singing trio of our batch Professor Aldrin Garcia, Edsel Antonio, and Jimbo Dote would give the Apo Hiking Society a run for their money as they can sing and look alike as the famous singers. Pinky Dirain who is now Dr. Pinky Beran (Plastic Reconstructive Aesthetic & Burn surgeon) is the beauty and brains, always have been at the upper echelon of beauty titlists. Lorena Cabacungan Llanes and Seafarer Rommel Rosacia were the tittle holders of Mr. and Ms. Teen Lallo during our time. Who can outwit the “Bukanegan” tongue of Teacher Percival Vite, the “Balagtasan” prowess of Teacher Cheryl Mendoza. All those came from our group. Anyone can be mesmerized by the beauty and grace of band majorette Antonette Agustin Dy back in the days. Antonette’s day job gives all the satisfaction she is getting in life now, she is now a Senior Travel Consultant at Planet Earth Travel in New Zealand. 

Who would have known that The B.R.E.A.D stands for Brandon, Rogelio, Edsel, Ammiel, and Doopy (insert Jimbo) was the silent song writers/composers in our batch. They did compose several pieces. “Kahit Kaibigan Lang Ako Sa Yo” and “Kabataan” to name a few.

We like to take part in various school activities– be it sports, glee club, chess club, dance troop, choir or drama. Getting involved is an interesting and fun way to meet new people, to learn something new and challenge ourselves. So many choices can become pretty overwhelming, but we always make sure to put our academics on top of our priority and we know what we are good at! That being said, few of our teachers back then has branded our batch as the noisiest and the most talkative batch. Even the batch who can pull a prank to a teacher. Giving as another brand of name- bully! 

But hey, we are not as it seems it is. Nonetheless, we make up for whatever shortcomings weve made and we make our teachers proud by being good in our classes. We aren’t proud for the mistakes we have done but looking back at it now.. it can bring a smile or two and a sense of nostalgia. How we have missed high school life. Our teacher/adviser Mrs. Dolores “Dolly” Dela Cruz, despite our flaws and shortcomings always have got our back. She used to defend us with a word bang.. I quote, they talk because they know a lot..these kids have brains, unquote. Truly, she was the best ally we have had. We are the only batch whom she handled for 2 consecutive years. She really must have loved us thats why!

These are the peculiar pleasure of the life in high school. All those have been kept in our treasure throve. Its always nice to open that chest of memories once in a while.

Though our batch may have been the happy-go-lucky type, we know the meaning of the word RESPONSIBILITY in shouty capitals. High school life is impossible without duties and responsibilities. Few of us also joined the group of student body leaders in our school. The likes of Electronics Communications Engineer Jimbo Dote, Teacher Myra Joyce Valiente Israel, Architect Edsel Antonio, Teacher Sherry Anne Cortina Letada, Sherly Ann Madrid Geralde are among those who were brave enough to tackle school responsibilities back then. Myra Valiente Israel was one of those people behind the success of the famous "Lallo's Blacklight Performers" during her teaching days in our beloved alma mater. The said group luckily have joined in the grand finals of the talked about noontime show over television called Showtime. Myra is now living in Singapore with his hubby and has an impressive career in a prestigious company in the said country.

Hey, don’t dare miss the love tandems, linked to puppy love stories 😛 There was Shammel, Shefrey, BethSon, MySeph, EdSilling, Sheuel, TrinyCor, Chemmel and other tandem which may have slipped off my memory bank lol. And when trouble comes in paradise there was always the ever reliable Brandon J. Sac, 😂 he was the “bridge over troubled waters”. Btw, Brandon Sac is now one of the in-house Architect and Planning Consultant at McDonald’s Philippines (Golden Arches Development Corporation)

The high school years are the best time to product the virtues of careful use of time, punctuality, obedience, regularity in us. With that in mind, one can rightly state that an individual, who have skipped the high school “season” for a certain reason has definitely missed something very important in his (her) life!

We are the Diamonds and the Roses…We, “Strive for Excellence”

[kootenaygoon]

So,

They called it the suicide blanket—the ominous, low-hanging fog that settled over Kootenay Lake and plunged Nelson into a perpetual grey gloom. 

Paisley and I huddled under porch blankets as the trees frosted at the summit of Elephant Mountain, the white descending slowly on to the city. Winter is coming. From the comfy warmth of our little hermitage I watched YouTube theory videos about Game of Thrones and scribbled on my chalkboard wall, creating character lists and fine-tuning a timeline for my ever-evolving thesis manuscript. I wanted it to be composed of multiple interlinking stories, like my favourite novel A Visit from the Goon Squad, but I was constantly swapping out one story for another, never reaching any conclusion. 

While Paisley worked on her desserts I huddled down at my laptop and hammered away at my real work. Journalism was still only a secondary concern in my head, a means to make money until I sold this manuscript and vaulted up into the world of novelists. I sent out excerpts to literary journals, receiving a flurry of rejection letters in response, and tried to ignore the fact that I hadn’t made any legit progress on my fiction since arriving in Nelson. I felt this insistent fear that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t going to live up to my ambitions, while meanwhile Paisley would remind me that we had a pretty nice life and maybe I needed to chill out a bit, okay?

“I don’t think I can go into work today,” I said one morning. “I feel like somebody’s sitting on my chest. I can’t do this.”

“So take a sick day.”

“I don’t have any yet. You have to be an employee for like a year before you start getting them.”

“This is your mental health, Will. Calvin can handle things without you.”

I hesitated.

“Stay home and I’ll take care of you, okay? I don’t have a co-op shift today.”

Around that time I wrote a story for the Star about a music video called “Junkyard Bettie”. It was directed by a local dude named Jonathan Robinson and featured an Aussie singer named Sofiella Watt. She was backed up by her banjo-plucking hipster band the Huckleberry Bandits. Set in an actual junkyard just outside of town, the video told the story of a lonely young traveler struggling to make it through a Canadian winter. Oh, lady winter, you have done me wrong, you’ve done me wrong. Oh dark December, won’t you please be gone, please be gone? Played by Sofiella’s friend Lauren Herraman, the dark-eyed protagonist wanders morosely through a bleak landscape populated by derelict cars, only to discover some friends and end up at a barnyard dance party. When I interviewed Sofiella, she told me the lyrics were a true story she picked up from a housekeeping co-worker at a local hotel. The woman’s boyfriend had left her, her cat went missing, and all her missing posters were rained on and got torn down. 

Then the junkyard dog bit her.

“It was one of those quintessential blues song scenarios where everything goes wrong. I said ‘that’s terrible, but such an amazing story’. I asked her if I could write a song about that, because I could never make up something that good.”

I admired Sofiella’s ability to take a dark experience and create something beautiful out of it, but wasn’t sure how to accomplish that in the Star newsroom. Calvin had found himself embroiled in a number of community conflicts, and his stress level was rubbing off on everyone around him. I made excuses to leave the office when he was upset, setting up interviews across town or just wandering down to the park to take some pictures, because I couldn’t stand being around his energy. Tamara felt the same way, and when he wasn’t around we’d sit commiserating over all the unnecessary drama he’d brought into our lives.

“At the end of the day, you have to take care of yourself. And if Calvin’s negatively affecting your mental health, maybe that’s something you should report to management,” she said.

“I feel like such a whiner.”

“You’re not whining — you’re just expressing your truth.”

“The truth is I think he’s going to quit any day now, and I can’t wait.”

It wasn’t just work getting me down. Though I couldn’t admit it to myself, cannabis had become my primary mental health problem. In Victoria we’d been consuming a little baggie of weed a week, maybe two, while in Nelson we were literally burning through hundreds of dollars’ worth of pre-rolled joints a month.  Was it the solution, or was it the problem? It was like an extra rent payment. Somewhere along the line we started buying pot before groceries, and a few times we ended up with an empty fridge while we waited days for the next paycheck. Sometimes we went begging to our parents. It was our ritual, the way we bonded, watching Pineapple Express and making candy runs to 7-11, but it was also the way we coped with our feelings post-fight, it was how I treated my depression and she treated her pain, and increasingly it was more of a chore than a fun time.

As we started to make friends our age, it became apparent that we weren’t alone. We were surrounded by functional chronics, people who operated in a perma-stoned state, and for many of them cannabis was nearly interchangeable with coffee. Both were something you consumed to tweak your mood and outlook, both lasted a few hours, and both cost around five bucks a hit. I found myself hosting never-ending debates in my head about the benefits and drawbacks of my new lifestyle, trying to weigh what it was costing me against all the benefits I was becoming dependent on. Was my memory worse? Was I less present? Could I really stop smoking if I wanted to? Paisley and I repeatedly made vows to quit, sometimes lasting a few days, but inevitably it crept back into our lives. Whenever her parents visited we had to do a thorough job of hiding the evidence.

“I never would have predicted that I’d become a stoner,” said Paisley. “My whole life I avoided it, never touched it, was never interested. And now it’s got this fucking hold on me.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“Watch me.”

Despite this, Paisley’s job at Kootenay Co-op was going well and she was making new friends. Her desserts were generating us a third income, and she was writing recipes and coming up with new culinary innovations all the time. From September to December she was happily busy, walking downtown once a week to practice her burlesque routines at Boob Camp with Charlotte Coco Orchid, and the rest of the time she spent nesting with the dogs and decorating our house. She went out and purchased the costume she was going to need for the upcoming show, then showcased it in our living room before heading out to a photo shoot with the other women. She looked adorable, in clown makeup and fishnet stockings, and I held her in my arms.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Maybe you should be in the show.”

I snorted. “It’s next week.”

“Charlotte’s looking for a male performer to pick up the clothes left on stage between sets. I was thinking about it, and you went to theatre school. You should totally do it.”

“I’m not going to do burlesque.”

“Why not?”

That was a good question. She continued to push the issue until I agreed to talk to Charlotte, and pretty soon I’d been recruited. Paisley took me out shopping for a pair of white “manties”, a baggy Speedo decorated with bright red hearts, then we bought a set of blood-coloured wings that matched the plush bow and arrow I would be carrying. I did love being onstage, and had arguably done more outrageous things in high school, but the concept of prancing around in my underwear in front of a bunch of Kootenay strangers definitely gave me pause. It would be a spectacle. For it to work properly I was going to have to be thoroughly shit-faced, I knew. I worked my way through four or five beers before we even headed down the hill to the show, at the Hume Hotel.

“You’re not allowed to hit on the other girls,” she said. “And don’t be creepy.”

“I won’t be creepy.”

“I mean it.”

“The only one I care about is you, okay?”

Once we arrived in the warm-up room, it was game on. Women were rushing in and out, changing from one costume into another, and some wild-haired dude was giving himself a sponge bath in the sink. Show-tunes and party anthems were blaring from nearby speakers. I met a little person named Cotton Candy and an older burlesque legend named Suzanna Sultry who the women all worshipped. We all posed together for a photo. One of Paisley’s friends took charge of decorating my torso with lipstick, inviting the others to leave kisses from my treasure trail to my collarbone. Don’t be creepy, I reminded myself, as they took turns kneeling in front of me. Over the months that Paisley’d been doing Boob Camp I’d come to know a bunch of them, and a few of us ducked into a back alley to smoke a joint. Upon my return the photographer grabbed me, and said she wanted a few shots of me with Paisley. I turned to her, held her close to my chest, and gave her a gentle kiss as the shutter snapped. Eventually Charlotte gathered everyone into a circle for a pep talk. The topless woman standing across from me was missing one of her nipple tassels, so was clutching her boob with one hand.

“Look at all the power in this room,” Charlotte said. “I am so proud of each and every one of you. You’re going to go out there and blow them away. You’ve done all the hard work, and now you get to reap the reward.”

Standing back-stage clutching a beer, feeling cold sweat collect in my hairline, I wondered if I was about to humiliate myself. There had been no rehearsals, no real instructions. Was I supposed to go out between every number, or just a select few? Was I supposed to dance, and if so, what kind of dance was I supposed to do? There’s a subversive element to burlesque, I knew, and a sense that nothing is sacred and everything is silly. I could get down with that. For her first performance Paisley marched out with the five other women, working her way through an elaborately choreographed sequence that saw the women crawling across the floor, hurling themselves on to their backs and spreading their legs wide. I congratulated her as she came breathlessly off-stage, then kissed her as Charlotte beckoned me forward. I was in bare feet, brandishing my bow and arrow, and upon my entrance the audience roared with approval. I gyrated, spinning around to bend over like a porn star, and frolicked drunkenly as I went searching for the various layers and lacy bits that had been left behind. Charlotte was loudly announcing something into the microphone as I gave the audience a last wink and departed. My back and shoulders were shimmering with sweat, my hair wet against my forehead, my limbs vibrating.

I can’t believe I just did that, I thought.

While the show progressed I stood at a gap in the curtains and looked out at the rowdy crowd, some of them in costumes, who were roaring and shouting for the performers onstage. These are my people, I thought. Charlotte was a champ, commandeering the entire thing while performing multiple sets herself, and Paisley cuddled up beside me. Charlotte chased Cotton Candy around the stage, both of them half-naked, and then a boylesque performer did a leather-clad striptease. I was continuing to drink, and somewhere along the way I’d been forgotten — which I was fine with. I wanted to get back into my real clothes, but that would mean cutting through the parking lot in my underwear. I was just planning my escape when Charlotte introduced Isla Valentine, who was performing her first ever solo set. A milky-skinned brunette, she slinked across the stage and threw herself down on a chair. She smiled languidly at the audience, undoing her bra. Upon release she whipped it into the air triumphantly and flung out her jiggling breasts — dislodging both her pasties, which flew into the audience.

“Oh, shit,” said Paisley, as the crowd gasped. “She must not have glued them right.”

Isla quickly clasped her hands to her nipples, her face furrowed, and for a moment it looked like the number would be over. But as we watched, a look of determination crossed Isla’s face. Fuck it. She dropped her hands, stood up, and continued dancing to elated whoops. Striding from one edge of the stage to the other, she jutted out her hips and whipped back her hair, grinning defiantly.

“Wow, she really went with that,” I said. “Good for her.”

“No, not good for her. She’s going to get Charlotte in trouble. She told us ahead of time: the hotel can get fined for nudity.”

“Really? You think they’ll actually fine Charlotte?”

“They could.”

“It was a mistake! What was she supposed to do?”

Paisley frowned. “You don’t get it.”

The remainder of that evening is a haze, but one memory remains intact: meeting Ryan Martin, the owner of the hotel. I’d heard from multiple people in town that he was an important person to know, a powerhouse in the business community, but we hadn’t crossed paths yet. While I padded along the carpet coming back from the bar, double-fisting and still in my underwear, I nearly bowled him over coming around a corner. As soon as I realized who he was I was embarrassed, and felt like I needed to explain myself. Nearly naked, with lipstick smeared all over my stomach and the crimson wings drooping over my shoulders, I knew I was something of a radical sight. I stammered out that I don’t actually drink that much, told him this wasn’t usual behaviour for me. He grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “This is the Kootenays.”

The Kootenay Goon