RE: Trailer Trash 65, pt 1 & pt 2 (Patreon)

   Tabitha found it a little difficult to come down from her buzzing overstimulation high of chattering away with all of the girls at lunch and focus when it came time to return to class for fourth period. So much of the school week had occupied her head as a melody of melancholy, but today—finally getting her cast off created an ascending chord progression. That turned out to be the final missing element that made this rhythm of repeated confrontation bearable, and even had her internal music bearing as positive, upbeat.

    I guess putting PLANS on the table just makes it that much easier to look past all the everyday annoyances of being a high school girl fighting out to secure her social space in the ugly stratum of girl politick? Tabitha thought with a small smile.

    She was supposed to be taking notes here in World History as Mrs. Reynolds spoke at length about the French Revolution, but as with the rest of the students sitting here… her mind couldn’t help but wander.

    Did I just personally reinvent a big life hack? Tabitha mused. It feels so incredibly insightful, but really when you come down to it, isn’t it just psychology at its most base? I’m constantly mired in life’s casual aggravations, so what I need to do is also always intentionally put something ‘nice’ on the table that I can look forward to? And then, I’ll subconsciously fixate on THAT, rather than the everyday tedium of dealing with… well, all sorts of bullshit? It really does feel like a life hack, but at the same time it’s so in your face and obvious that it’s more dumb that I WASN’T applying this to my life all the time before. Isn’t it?

    As Mrs. Reynolds droned on about the absolute monarchy being dismantled by economic collapse, Tabitha clung to the lingering impressions of contentment. But, also she battled back and forth with herself over whether constantly creating things to look forward to like parties or get-togethers was perhaps some sort of coping mechanism that could become unhealthy escapism. After all, wasn’t it basically amounting to creating a carrot tangentially divorced from the ‘stick?’ Wait, did carrot and stick need to be expressly related to one another in some unity of purpose? Or, was it enough only that positive and negative behavioral reinforcement were achieved in balance, such that the two opposing aspects didn’t even need to otherwise be part of some comprehensive character arc?

    I… probably need to quit trying to trying to plot my own life in terms of an author trying to create a cohesive narrative? Tabitha chided herself. If only life could be that ‘simple.’ Just, well, I mean. That’s the best mental hammer I have, so yeah I’m gonna try to approach every problem as one to be solved with that hammer. I don’t know what’s more frustrating, that it doesn’t always work, or that sometimes it actually DOES work…

    She was really, really looking forward to having fun this weekend with her friends. Flirting and teasing with Bobby, hanging out with Alicia and Elena again after so long, even maybe integrating her newer friends from the other classes into the mix and seeing what that turned into. As she really examined these bright, buttery feelings however, scrutinized them through the lens of a diligent author, maybe this carrot actually was strongly related to the stick she was trying not to think about.

    Because—isn’t the basic act of throwing a party a social power move? Tabitha quirked her lip as she tried to consider all of the implications. Proof positive that you’re popular, that you have THIS amount of friends, THIS amount of support? Isn’t that why the nobility hosted lavish balls back in those French days? Isn’t some teenage social soiree, at its fundamentals, not THAT far removed from what went on back then in design? Am I super excited to celebrate with friends because it’s a long overdue POSITIVE event in my life, after a doldrum week of navigating school nonsense? Orrr—am I hyped because it elevates and consolidates my status and standing here in the high school hierarchy? After all, nothing flies in the face of cheerleaders buttoning me into the role of a meek, isolated loser like being able to throw a big huge party where everyone has a total blast, right?

    It probably would have been nice to say that such avenues of thought never even crossed her mind… but also that wouldn’t be being particularly honest with herself. Tabitha contented herself with the fact that this was mostly about simply having a great time with her friends, and only partly because she could take grim satisfaction in proving her opposition wrong.

    So long as my intentions are MOSTLY pure here, this is fine, right? Tabitha almost had herself convinced.

    If I was to QUANTIFY why I’m amped up about this, the percentages would agree that I’m mostly looking forward to this for the right reasons! Okay, so I’m A LITTLE poisoned with the clout-chasing image and popularity thing. But, I’m also AWARE OF THAT enough that I’m not going to slip up and let all of that consume me! Right? Right. Okay, that’s—that’s decided and done with. I can not worry about it, and let fears of turning into exactly the kind of girls I hate eat me up from the inside.

    R-right?! I’ll—yeah, maybe I’ll just talk things through with ‘Licia and ‘Lena some, about this. Or, Bobby? Serve me up just the right amount of humble pie to keep a growing ego in check. The correct dosage of humble. Yeah. That’s settled.

    The idea of popularity as a poison that would eat away at the sincerity of everything she strove towards was still very unsettling, and although Tabitha’s pencil was still poised upon her notebook paper the lines remained barren of words, blank—empty of all of the specific dates and keynotes to remember about the French revolution they would be tested on later.

    ...Damn it all!

* * *

    Her attention fared little better in fifth period Biology, until the monomers and polymers, carbohydrates, lipids and proteins became a wash of technobabble untethered from contextual understanding. The paragraphs of the textbook their class was supposed to be reading from explained each term in clinical detail so abstruse that it felt like even the many words Tabitha did already have a strong basis with felt like they were blurring into the alien and incoherent. Whoever had been charged with arranging the material into these chapters was either some sort of sadist, or had such a depth of comprehension on the subject matter that they became unable to bridge their knowledge over to those unfamiliar with all of these different abstracts.

    Am I just having a bad day, and can’t focus? Tabitha couldn’t help but glance around at the other students. Is everyone else actually absorbing all this information normally, or are they just pretending to read along? I feel like—oh wait no, Jake over there DEFINITELY isn’t actually reading. And, the guy just past him is just sort of scribbling circles on his page. I don’t know why that makes me feel so much better!

    When it felt like no one was actually learning because the dense text of unfamiliar terms was so incredibly dry, she half expected someone to be brave enough to point that out. Instead, it seemed like one of those high school unspoken rules that everyone would pretend they were parsing all of this just fine, and that there wasn’t a major problem with the teaching method. Then again, as she looked around Tabitha did also find several studious students jotting notes into the margin of their college rule paper as fingertips held their place in the paragraph they were reading, so at least some of the kids were processing this stuff.

    Which made her want to pout.

    Hmm, I think maybe I must be the outlier? Tabitha flushed and lowered her gaze back to her Biology 1 book in embarrassment. I want to be like, what they SHOULD do is explain these concepts to us as if we were a young child, and only then once they’ve confirmed we have a basis of understanding? THEN they can build upon that foundation with additional explanation and clarification.

    The problem was, that probably was what was happening—for everyone except for her. The rest of the kids here just had a lot of this explained to them in much more simple terms in the years leading up to where they were now, because elementary and middle school Life Sciences classes brought them in succession through sixth, seventh, and eighth to prepare them for where they were now in this ninth grade freshman Biology course. For Tabitha however, that gradual leadup of basic preliminary coursework leading to this was almost fifty years ago, completely out of her memory.

    In subjects I continued to build upon throughout life, like English literature, with my reading and writing? Being taken from the future and plunked down here in the past gives me that huge, overwhelming advantage. In areas of math and science, where I had VERY little interest or engagement? It winds up having the completely opposite effect. And, I really HATE feeling dumb here despite all my apparent ‘advantages,’ which should be pushing me so far ahead in every course.

    Tabitha was struggling in this class, now.

    The realization shouldn’t have blindsided her with such sour despair and blind anger, but it did. The difficulty of all of this really crept up on her unbidden, with her not seeing that fact until she was already suddenly feeling in over her head. It wasn’t even hard to understand why she was struggling… although it was definitely hard to release her deathgrip on a lot of the excuses and blame-gaming and take personal accountability for what was happening here.

    Back in the first semester, I wasn’t having this problem! Tabitha couldn’t help but clench her teeth as she forced herself to walk through the logic of what had happened. Because… back then I was numb and in shock and isolating myself from family and social relationships in general of any kind. It was easy to put my nose to the books and just fixate on coursework and homework. Okay, maybe not EASY, but it was—it was one of my early coping mechanisms for all of THIS. I’m back in the past, yeah of course I have to buckle down and go through and get all of my assignments and grades absolutely perfect, or what’s even the point of my past life? I had that obsessive singlemindedness, where I could just hunker down in the library alone every moment at school. Where one would normally instead go out and socialize, and so yeah I at least tried to take grim satisfaction in getting my grades right.

    She had even allowed herself to feel some small sense of sick superiority over the foolish ‘in-crowd’ who followed their vanity to pursue superficial relationships, or play the high school pecking order game of popularity. At the time, she’d insisted to herself that what happened in high school didn’t really matter—that it wasn’t the capital letters Real World. Her perspective on that hadn’t quite inverted, but she was forced to admit that maybe there was quite a bit more nuance to it than all of that.

    Because, past me was socially maladjusted. I was too timid or traumatized to participate in navigating the big scary social side of high school stuff, when really that is just as necessary a component of your development as the ‘official’ coursework, all the stuff on paper. The friendships and rivalries, the petty drama, the heartfelt crushes, the cliques forming around proximity in classes, or interests, or the ugly struggling climb over others towards the perceived top of the pyramid—it is also an unofficial high school curriculum. It absolutely IS something we are also supposed to be learning alongside the basic math and science and language arts stuff. The unofficial course with the unspoken rules, where what and how you learn or even how you’re ‘graded’ is so maddeningly completely open to interpretation that only a rare select few ever really THINK they know where they stand...

    At least, that was the flowery way of interpreting events that didn’t strike mortal, humiliating blows to Tabitha’s pride. She also knew the less flattering way of admitting why classes felt so much more difficult now. Choosing to push herself out of her single-track safe library space and working towards instead becoming an extrovert meant her processing power was devoting itself in different directions. She was not some infallible story protagonist who could excel in all aspects at once, to have her cake, and eat it too—when Tabitha invested her analytical thought towards being outgoing, understanding people, understanding herself instead of putting all of that brain power on her schoolwork, it was pretty obvious that the courses and assignments were going to suddenly seem that much more difficult.

    How could they NOT seem more difficult now? Tabitha thought with a glum look at the gibberish that was several columns of science jargon terms in her textbook pages. I’m not studying anywhere near like I used to.

    Last semester, it was like I was trying to exploit my own mild case of autism, or whatever it is that’s wrong with me. Now, I’m trying to… well, to NOT be that. To climb way, way, WAY up out of my comfort zone. Be the popular outgoing girl everyone admires, to foster friendships and frenemies and fall and love and be at total ease amidst the crowd, no matter the situation. I want to be funny, and animated, charming, I want people to like me, I want some people to love me, to envy me, even. I want to be popular!!

    That’s just… yeah. It’s as simple as that. Popularity absolutely IS also this kind of mental poison, or at least it can be, but it’s part of the missing piece that made my life so incomplete before. The idea of being popular was that guilty pleasure wishful thinking FANTASY that over time fermented into this, this bloodcurdling regret as I aged in my last life. I think just popularity as a poison concept might be like that one idiom, where it’s both poison and medicine. It can destroy me like poison if I let it—that’s actually more and more easy to see now—or, maybe it can save me. It can be medicine and save me. I really want it to save me. It’s… probably going to wind up doing a little bit of both.

    Tabitha’s stewing thoughts about emergent popularity today made it all but impossible to focus on the sections of assigned reading in the Biology book, and fifth period passed her by in a total blur much the same as World History before it had. When the bell sounded and everyone rose from their seats Tabitha found that excitement bubbling up within her again, and before she knew it she had approached Jacob as everyone was filing out of their rows and queuing into a blobby crowd for the exit.

    “Jake!” Tabitha hailed him.

    “Jacob,” The boy corrected with a scowl.

    “Th-that’s what I said,” Tabitha insisted with a flustered smile. “Hah. I’m having a get together with a bunch of people this weekend—would you think you maybe might be interested?”

    WOULD YOU THINK YOU MAYBE MIGHT BE INTERESTED?! REALLY? Could I have possibly had that come out any less borked?! Ugghhhh—

    “Uhh?” Jacob stared at her. “A get together? What kind of a get together?”

    “To, um, to like—celebrate,” Tabitha held up her arm, which was now sans cast. “So like, a little party. Inviting some friends. Uh—we’re friends, right?”

    The question seemed to stunlock him for a moment, and Tabitha forced herself to rein in her smile a bit, because here in this new lifetime it sometimes had that strange paralyzing effect on teenage boys. She felt a little guilty for a sudden pressuring question like that, because in truth… they weren’t really friends. They were barely acquainted at all, and as recently as two interactions ago, Tabitha had mentally classified him simply as ‘that heckler friend of Gary’s from the bus.’ Heck, Gary wasn’t even really that much of a friend, just someone she knew by name and exchanged a few sentences with in the mornings now and then.

    “Who all’s gonna be there?” Jacob asked as everyone shuffled forward—people were moving more quickly now, and it seemed like their brief window to speak was almost up.

    “Oh uh,” Tabitha said. “Some friends from class? From my different classes. Just uh, you can think about it? And, if you want, I’ll write down the time and address when I see you on the bus. Or, like—yeah you already know where my bus stop is, hah.”

    “Cool,” Jacob gave her a nod.

    Then, they spilled out of the door into the hallway and were headed in separate directions. Tabitha now wasn’t even sure Jacob had realized what she meant when she raised up her arm to show there was no cast or if he would have noticed the difference. They weren’t that close. Why had she felt a sudden compulsion to invite him? Some part of her feared she was just intoxicated with the idea of having a party, being someone who hosted parties, and somehow wanted to flaunt it. To prove that she was social and well-connected, even to that random bunch of fifth period kids which she for the most part didn’t even have a strong impression of.

    It’s no big deal! Tabitha told herself as she adjusted the strap of her book bag and followed the flow of students pressing on down the hallway. It was polite to offer. Right? He probably won’t even go. Isn’t that usually how most meet ups wind up? For every ten you extend invitations to, maybe four will show up, and that’s if you’re lucky. Might be even worse here at this specific age grouping, where we have to rely on others to get a ride anywhere.

    Subconsciously, she wanted it to be a big cool party where everyone had a blast and her sudden social cred would hit the snobby cheer team girls like a brick to the face—that was a given. Why was it that her most immature flights of fancy were also the most absolutely intoxicating to her fourteen-year-old mind?! Tabitha knew that it was probably prudent to temper any expectations and not get her hopes up too high. Bobby would probably be there, hopefully. Alicia and Elena she could probably count on. Maybe a couple of the others that had attended the theater and skating rink stuff with them before would show. It would be cool if some of the Personal Fitness girls showed, but she wouldn’t blame them if they couldn’t make it.

    “Oh lookie lookie, if it isn’t Tabitha,” Amber announced to the rest of the art room as Tabitha entered. “Maybe there’s—”

    “Hey, haters,” Tabitha kept her greeting casual and friendly, but she immediately brushed past Amber and some other girl there without breaking stride.

    The quick response had chambered into mind and fired off before Tabitha had any time to aim or even realize she was pulling the trigger. One part of herself wanted to kick herself and rush to dwellling endlessly on both her wording and delivery, while another part of herself seemed intent on telling herself it had been a cool comeback. Or… cool enough. The important thing was that she was brusque with them, that she did not linger and get tripped up falling into Amber’s pace—pushing past them and out of earshot as soon as possible was the smart decision.

    That situation felt like a fortunate set of different circumstances lining up, probably working because today the before-class chatter of students talking as the art room filled was just loud enough. Amber raising her voice another notch to still have whatever jab or tirade she’d been cooking up be heard after Tabitha disengaged seemed to be more of an escalation than Amber was willing to commit to—this time, at least—so instead the girl just let it go.

    Past me would have frozen right there in front of her and been completely unable to think up anything at all to say, Tabitha thought to herself. Not even like PAST LIFE me, I mean like the me of just a month or two ago. Always HATED that. The way my thoughts stalled out, when for them it seemed like they already had everything they wanted to say already figured out. Or, that they had enough experience always bickering back and forth with each other that they never HAD to think before they spoke.

    She made a point to not be seen glancing back to check Amber and the other girls’ expression, but Tabitha was able to somewhat see them in her periphery as she stepped around the edge of her usual table and took a seat on her bar stool there. The girls over there weren’t watching her, neither did they seem miffed. They had already moved on and were talking about something else. That was enough of a personal victory for Tabitha for now; it felt like a very successful defense play that immediately shot down whatever nonsense Amber had been ready to rile her up with.

    Wow, that actually helps a lot, Tabitha quirked a small smile. Because I DIDN’T stop and listen, I have no clue what she was even gonna throw at me. Ignorance is bliss? It’s like I’m sure she had some nasty thing to say that would have occupied my thoughts rent free all night, but this time I was able to just pre-emptively shut it down. But, don’t let it go to your head! Don’t feel TOO proud of yourself, Tabitha. Always have to stay on guard and be ready, because any random bitches can still pounce in with snide comments at any moment. It’s ninth grade, after all.

    Eric arriving to join her at table six snapped her out of her ruminations, and Tabitha gave him a friendly wave.

    “Hey!” Tabitha beamed. “So, uh. Are you doing anything this weekend?”

    The boy’s look of casual indifference became one of suspicion or even alarm.

    “No wait, I—okay not like that, I mean like,” Tabitha let out a nervous laugh. “Throwing a little party with friends. Are you interested?”

    “Um,” Eric paused. “Who all’s gonna be there?”

    “My friends Alicia and Elena,” Tabitha answered. “Bobby. Probably a couple girls from my first period class? And, we’re trying to get Lurch to go. Do you know Lurch?”

    “The super tall dude?” Eric nodded. “I mean I don’t know him, but I’ve seen him around, I guess. It’s like a party, party? Your birthday, or something?”

    “Finally got my cast off, really wanted to celebrate,” Tabitha admitted, holding up her arm and giving it a waggle. “Thought it’d be cool, I dunno. Think about it?”

    “Uhh, yeah, sure,” Eric nodded again. “Where at? What kind of party?”

    “Stacy, hi!” Tabitha greeted the girl as she stepped up to the table. “Are you busy this weekend?”

    “Not really?” Stacy blinked. “What’s up?”

    “Having a little get together,” Tabitha explained. “I can write down the address, will probably be around noonish. Uhh, I know Bobby wanted to watch Willow. He got me Willow on VHS back for my birthday, but I haven’t made time to see it, yet. There’ll be food and stuff?”

    “Oh, um,” Stacy set down her bag and took a seat on her stool. “Sure? Maybe? You said Willow?”

    “With Val Kilmer?” Eric asked.

    “Yeah, I think so,” Tabitha agreed. “I haven’t seen it, yet.”

    “I haven’t seen it,” Stacy said. “So—sure?”

    “It’s an awesome one,” Eric chimed in.  “Willow is. I have it—s’definitely one of my favorites, yeah. I’m down. Hell yeah. My friend Pete was always saying Willow was like the off brand, non-copyright-version of Lord of the Rings, because George Lucas couldn’t get the rights but really wanted to adapt Lord of the Rings.”

    “Wait—really?!” Tabitha perked up. “I hadn’t heard that. I thought it was just like a Conan the Barbarian sorta popcorn flick. Bobby just said sword and sorcery, so I thought like—”

    “I mean yeah once you see it, you’ll be able to tell,” Eric said with enthusiasm. “He had to combine some people all into just one character in some places though, and obviously there’s—”

    “No! Nooooo! No no no you did not invite Eric—did you?!” Vanessa protested as she pushed her way in towards their table. “You didn’t. Tabitha tell me you did NOT.”

    “Vanessa…” Tabitha gave her an exasperated growl. “Come on. Eric’s cool! Eric—you’re cool, right?”

    “Wait, Vanessa’s going?” Eric pretended to roll his eyes. “You shoulda warned me first, she’s—”

    “I’m going, you’re not!” Vanessa pouted. “It’s not even like— Tabitha, come onnn. We have like, actual cool guys going to the party. We don’t need Eric. Eric’s a loser. Did you never hear about him being a total creep around Mary? Way back when? Well—”

    “What cool guys are going?” Stacy asked, her eyes brightening.

    “Eric’s cool—I’m inviting him,” Tabitha said. “Since when does—”

    “Matthew Haynes is going,” Vanessa ticked off her fingers. “Liam will be there. Bobby, obviously. Brett is going to be there—”

    “Lurch,” Eric supplied.

    “Eric shut uppp,” Vanessa scowled. “God.”

    “Brett like, the super super tall one?” Stacy smiled. “He’s cute! He’s in my fourth period class, I just saw him earlier today.”

    “Yeah,” Vanessa said. “Bobby’s not bad, either. I guess.”

    “I just invited Jake, too,” Tabitha added. “I’ll see if Gary can go when I see him on the bus.”

    “Jake, Jake who?” Vanessa asked with a frown. “I don’t know any freshman Jakes.”

    “Jake, uhhh, Jacob,” Tabitha corrected herself. “Jacob. He’s—”

    “Jacob, he’s friends with Gary and Lurch and all them,” Eric nodded. “They’re all part of the basketball dudes, who’re over there all the time. I’ve talked with them.”

    “Nobody asked you,” Vanessa sniffed. “It’s not like—”

    “Eric?” Tabitha interrupted with a grin. “The biggest reason we’re inviting you, is because Vanessa will not stop flirting with you. So, yeah, you definitely have to see if you can make it, to—”

    “Oh, as if,” Vanessa huffed. “As if! Pfft, yeah right. Not even. Not even close. Since when have I ever even—”

    “Eric’s pretty okay?” Stacy played the mediator. “Eric, you’re pretty cute? Cute enough.”

    “...Thanks?” Eric seemed taken aback. “I guess? You too?”

    “Don’t flirt with Stacy right in front of Vanessa!” Tabitha teased, holding up a hand to her mouth in mock outrage. “Eric, you—”

    “Hurr durr durr, yeah, you’re all so funny,” Vanessa crossed her arms. “Fuck. Are those stupid freaking still life bottle drawings due today?”

    “Think so,” Eric shrugged. “We’re all pretty much done with them, aren’t we? What more is there to—”

    Clarissa was once again the last to show up at their table—just before the bell for the start of class resounded through the intercom—and Tabitha noticed Eric and Stacy both looking from the new arrival to Tabitha and back again, watching to see if Tabitha would invite her as well. Before she could explain that Clarissa was already in the know on this event however, Mr. Peterson clapped his hands and began barking for the class to settle down.

    “Alright, alright, quiet down, quiet down, folks,” Mr. Peterson stood from his desk and ambled over towards the middle of the classroom. “Table leaders, up up up, grab your table folders. Bring ‘em all up to my desk, not your tables. Gonna be going through your progress one by one and putting in grades today, people. If I have questions about the completion—or lack thereof—I will be calling you up individually so that we can discuss things. Alright? Alright, let’s go, move move move it people, let’s get a move on.”

( 64, They Don't Stop Coming | RE: Trailer Trash | Next, 65 pt 3 )

/// Sorry for going dark for so long! Was focused on finishing AnimeCon book 5 and getting it off to publisher, since that series is still on Amazon and RE:TT is not. Then, I had my birthday and a bunch of visits with family and some of my cracks at getting back into RE:TT writing turned into false starts and I had to redo things.

Good to be back onto this story and having things moving again! Will fix links and guide page tonight or tomorrow.