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Since Rosalie was deemed "sick" at school, practice was out of the question. Any student suffering from an illness was instructed not to participate in extracurriculars that day, and so Rosalie stayed at home where she wouldn't infect the rest of the student body with her "germs". Her last bout of the flu steered her straight to an earful from Whitney Vasquez, who then became one of her casualties. Rosalie was certain that occurrence was on Whitney's List Of Reasons To Hate Rosalie, right next to #1: Is Dating Sami Griffin.

Rosalie kept checking the time, thinking to herself, Maguire's probably doing possession and passing drills. They're probably practicing shots at Joanna now. I wonder how frustrated Alyssa is right now.

The instant the clock ticked to five, Rosalie was checking her phone, waiting for an update from Ray. Sure enough, the moment Ray got ahold of her phone, she was texting Rosalie.

____________

RAY: Practice was awful without you.

ROSALIE: What why

RAY: Because Joanna was a little shit again.
You shoulda seen the look on Maguire's face when Joanna started missing shots.
Plz return and talk some sense into herrrr

ROSALIE: But you guys have Jade

RAY: Yeah, if we weren't too busy running SUICIDES. Ugh.
My legs and arms are dead. I'll send the death certificate your way.

____________

Her phone alerted her to a new text, dropping Joanna's name from the top of the screen. It was accompanied by a frown-y face and a "Missed you at practice, Captain." Rosalie slapped a hand to her face and groaned. It was hard to believe that she was babysitting a full-grown senior in high school.

She pulled up Joanna's contact and pressed the call button. It rang only once before a false cheery voice answered.

"Rosie! It's been ages!"

"You can't just give up on the team if I'm not there," Rosalie said.

"Aw, but that's no fun. Besides, I'm in this for you, not them."

Rosalie's throat tightened, and she had to internally scold her heart for stopping in that split second. "I don't care. We made a deal, in case you forgot."

"Rosie, my sweet Rosie, let me tell you a little secret," she said, and Rosalie rolled her eyes and prepared for the inevitable dramatics. "O'Gallagher gave me a deal I, just like any other gay, would have picked swimming because at the end of the day girls in swim suits are ideal. Would you not agree?"

"Well, that certainly does explain Sami's logic now," Rosalie mused. "Turns out you were right about all that. Don't go spreading that around school, though. He's got enough on his plate."

"You know I wouldn't. Outing other people is a shit move and if I wasn't already going to Hell, that'd be a sure ticket in. Sami can come out on his own terms." She stopped short, and Rosalie could fill in the blanks without stretching far. She wouldn't out Rosalie even when her sexuality was still up in the air.

"Yeah, I agree," she said at last, clearing her throat. She avoided a catastrophe with Khoshekh by sneaking in through the side door and entering through the garage. "But back to this swim thing. I honestly can't picture you as a swimmer."

"It almost happened. Believe it, Mason. Me in a bikini."

"Female swimmers don't even wear—"

"On a Lamborghini. Insert me lathered up in baby oil out in the sun—"

"Okay, surefire way of getting skin cancer, but all right."

"Can you picture it?"

"Yes, I can picture it," Rosalie droned. "Back to what we were talking about."

"Ah, yes. I picked soccer because you said you still played," Joanna said. Rosalie wondered how much of Joanna's soul was sold to The Actual Devil to make her capable of saying such a thing so shamelessly. Rosalie slapped a hand over her face, covering her mouth in fear of squeaking out loud, because she sure as Hell was squeaking internally. "You're awfully quiet over there, Rosie."

"You—You can't just say shit like that," she cried, flinging her arm out. "What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"

"'Course not. If you die before our date I might actually lose my mind. So much is at stake...!"

"I'm sure there is," Rosalie laughed, shaking her head. "Are we still on for studying?"

"Yeah I just had to stop home and—Oops, gotta skedaddle! Lieutenant Colonel Spencer is on the lookout," she said, and the line cut off as she was greeting her father.

Studying with Joanna went much the same way as last time, though Rosalie became increasingly more and more aware of how fast her heart sped like it was readying for a kick of adrenaline. It did just this when the doorbell rang, and she raced to beat Khoshekh to the door. She paused at the door, touching the handle before preparing her insides for what would inevitably be a crash and burn of emotional and social exhaustion.

She pulled the door open, Khoshekh nestled under one arm. Her smile dropped at the sight of Joanna's eyes. The glasses were long gone after the match, and were replaced by faint red and purple bruising around the bridge of her nose.

"Hey," she said, pursing her lips together into a firm, straight line as Rosalie stared. The cut on the bridge of her nose was scabbed over. "I've got a few hours before the Lieutenant calls me back."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. How's your nose?" she asked, pulling the door open further and stepping aside. Joanna slid past her and toed her shoes off. Joanna shrugged off her jacket, flicking her tangled ginger curls over her shoulder.

"Fine," Joanna said, staring at one of the empty black frames on the wall. Rosalie's mother liked to call it minimalism.

Rosalie frowned and wasn't sure why.

***

Rosalie held up the hat up over Whitney's head. Whitney reached in with an eager look in Sami's direction, who decided to sit in at the Stud.Co. table during lunch that Thursday. Homecoming grade themes were entertainment for the entire school, so as Whitney unraveled the seniors' theme from the hat, Ray chanted to herself, "Please be Scott Pilgrim, please be Scott Pilgrim."

Whitney put the microphone to her lips, much to the excitement of the entire senior class scattered amongst the lunch room. "The Senior's theme for this year is... Scott Pilgrim Vs The World!"

"What?" Dylan whined from the football team, thumping his forehead onto the table.

Rosalie turned to Ray with an excited gasp. They clasped their hands together overhead, beaming at one another. The senior class whooped and hollered, and some people stood up on their benches and started dancing until the teachers came by to scold them. Amidst all the ruckus, Rosalie caught sight of Lennie trying desperately to get Jamie-Lee off the table, but the man was adamant on fighting the fact that he was suffering from a sprained ankle. He struck a pose on the top of the lunch table, and the soccer guys all roared with dramatic applause. "FIGHT THE SYSTEM!" someone cried, only to be told to knock it off by a teacher.

Jamie-Lee eventually clambered off the table to avoid the wrath of Principle O'Gallagher. Whitney concluded the presentation under the roar of the entire cafeteria going crazy, but eventually she gave up and just shut the microphone off.

"Well. Glad everyone's excited for Spirit Week," she said, but she didn't look happy about it. She set the microphone down with purpose before clasping her hands together. "Thank you for helping, Rose."

"Rosalie," she corrected, but Whitney was already talking to Art Hendrix. "It's... Rosalie."

Ray snorted from beside Rosalie as she groaned and slumped in her seat. She leaned over to Ray to whisper, "Sometimes I think she's convinced Rose Jason and I are the same person."

"Oh, you haven't heard? You are. You are the same person," Ray said, and Rosalie flicked her forehead as aggressively as she could manage with the teachers watching them so closely.

Whitney sat down then to her place beside Rosalie at the Stud.Co. table. She sighed loudly, prompting Rosalie to raise an eyebrow at her. "Well. The Homecoming King and Queen poll goes out on Monday. I'm hoping I get nominated," Whitney said.

"Well, you are a big name in the grade," Rosalie offered. Considering there were five hundred individuals to keep track of, Whitney being Stud.Co. president gave her quite an advantage.

"Weren't you on the panel last year?" Ray asked, leaning over to see Whitney clearly.

Whitney stuck her nose in the air. "Yes, I was. Who are you?"

"I'm... Ray Hartley. We've literally met before."

"It's hard keeping track of people these days," Whitney said with a nonchalant shrug. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, examining the state of her nails. Ray rolled her eyes, gaze flitting over to the soccer table.

Rosalie's phone buzzed in the breast pocket of her blazer. She plucked it out with furrowed brows, only to raise them at the sight of Jamie's name on the screen. She glanced at him from across the lunch room, and found him sitting there like a devilish cat, waiting for her to answer her phone.

____________

JAMIE: (Sent a photo)
My mom's a fashion designer. She found the peacock pattern.

ROSALIE: ?? Okay ??

JAMIE: We're making you a dress from scratch.

ROSALIE: Please cut out the peacock.

JAMIE: *smirky face*
Have you even gone shopping yet??

ROSALIE: Um, no, I don't usually go shopping until the week of??

JAMIE: For sHAME.

____________

"Okay, so apparently Jamie-Lee is some sort of fashion expert?" Rosalie said, showing the texts to Ray. "And I never knew his mom was a fashion designer?"

"Oh, yeah, for Kohl's."

Rosalie remembered in vivid colors the image of Blake Miles on an in-store Armory banner that fateful day she spent the afternoon shopping for new uniform pants. It was no wonder Lennie hated the guy so much—he tended to stick around, even in the subtext of conversations. Some might say Blake Miles was always relevant, but that person was not Rosalie Mason.

"She's, like, thee single best-looking individual on the planet," Ray explained, putting an arm around the back of her chair. She shrugged. "Met her when I was younger. She forced Jamie-Lee to invite everyone in his elementary school grade to his birthday party."

"You're kidding. Actually, you can't be kidding about that. That sounds too familiar," Rosalie confessed, scrunching her eyebrows together. She... did remember a little something about that, but Sami dragged her to it with no context and no birthday present. She felt so embarrassed at the party for not having gotten the birthday boy anything. Not even a Nerf football.

When lunch concluded, Rosalie was almost immediately bombarded on either side by Joanna and Jamie-Lee. Jamie had his phone up, eagerly exclaiming, "So I was thinking something like—" only to be interrupted by Joanna saying, "Hey Rosie. How's Sami?"

Jamie and Joanna stared at one another. Rosalie glanced between them both and laughed nervously, waving her hands in surrender. "I... have to pick up something at my locker. I'll see you guys in sixth hour," she said, and snuck away to the exit.

In the senior wing, Rosalie put a hand to her forehead to quell the impending headache from Jamie's obsession with their Homecoming getup, and whatever spell Joanna was putting her under. Asking about Sami? she thought, wishing she could throw her arms in the air. As if she cares about Sami!

She stopped to look at Sami's locker, looming empty in the hallway amidst all the students filing in to grab their books for sixth period. She and Ray picked up Sami's locker stuff after the successful home game. She hated to take down the polaroids from the door of his locker. She took pictures at one of his meets the previous year, and so there was one particularly iconic one of Sami in a speedo and rubber hair cap with an arm slung around Isaiah's shoulders.

If only that didn't turn into such a shitshow.

"Hey, Rosalie?" Speak of the devil.

She leapt in surprise, and spun around to find Isaiah Thatcher standing there. His hair was still bleached, but brown tufts were starting to grown in at the roots. He had his hands nervously clasped in front of him and she offered a startled, "Hey. What's up?"

He glanced at Sami's locker before asking, "You're friends with Sami. Have you seen him around? He hasn't been in AP Chem at all this week."

He then reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a sheaf of paper. Copies of his notes. "There's a test coming up on Friday so... these might help out. Most of it's just review."

"Oh. Um... I don't... think Sami will need these," she confessed. She dropped her voice in fear of Sami's locker buddies listening in. "I think his dad is transferring him to a different school."

Isaiah deflated immediately, and Rosalie started to panic the instant his eyes turned glassy. "Really? Please tell me you're joking. Why would he—"

"I know. I know what happened. Sami told me," she said, and shook her head. "I think he's honestly more worried about you. Are... you okay?"

Isaiah clenched his jaw tight and hissed out. "No, I'm not okay. Sami's father is awful and- and I ruined everything—"

Rosalie bristled, eyes wide with terror as Isaiah crept closer and closer to bawling his eyes out. She pat his arm and let him tackle her with a hug. She stared, wide-eyed, across the hallway as she rubbed a hand on his back. When Isaiah pulled away, he clasped her by the shoulders and shook his head to rid it of the gloom. He smiled so that his cute dimples showed.

"Sorry about that. I just hope Sami's doing okay. Mark's been badgering me ever since Sami's been gone," he explained with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I'm sure Sami would want to see you again. Once he's no longer on house arrest," Rosalie said, and Isaiah smiled hopefully at her. "We could set up movie dates at my house. Or something."

"Yeah! Yeah, I'd really like that, Rosalie," he said, and his eagerness was too adorable for Rosalie not to smile. "Sami talks about you so much during practice. I feel like it's long overdue for us to properly hang out."

"Agreed."

The hallway was starting to empty, and so Rosalie confessed that she had to get to the second floor for sixth period. They went their separate ways, and as Rosalie turned the corner to the stairwell, she clasped her hands over her cheeks and pushed back the desire to aw at how adorable Isaiah Thatcher was.