RE: Trailer Trash, 67 pt 2 (Patreon)

    Tabitha was ushering Clarissa inside and introducing or reintroducing the girl to everyone, which meant that finally all the girls were no longer fixating on Eric.

    To his immense relief.

    Clarissa was wearing a green floral pattern babydoll dress, but with both a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants beneath. It was an awkward look and she was all but squirming with discomfort beneath everyone’s sudden attention—by the looks of it wearing a new dress bought for spring which was pulled out of the closet too early. Worn instead as an outer layer, the pretty dress that should have appeared like a flowery, breezy free garment just drew attention to the shapeless sweats worn beneath. Clarissa also held a large orange and red party-sized bag of Cheetos in front of her with both hands almost like it were her purse, and seemed to be anxious to be rid of it as if she realized it only added to the poor impression she was making.

    Kind of a weird faux-pas for her? Eric thought. The sweats. But, never really was able to put my finger on what kind of girl she is.

    He turned and carefully plucked a chip out of the large bag and popped it into his mouth, then completed the ritual by pinching those fingertips around a napkin he’d sourced from the kitchen’s nearby napkin holder. He probably didn’t need to do that every single time he had a chip, but the motions served to help pace himself, and he wanted his hands to be ready and not have to worry about crumbs or grease residue. What his hands might need to be prepared for he had no idea, but this entire event had him on edge and a certain level of readiness was something to draw comfort from.

    Handshakes? Hah. High fives, maybe. Someone handing me something? No fucking clue. Get a grip, Eric.

    None of the girls here were actually interested in Eric at all.

    As always, that knowledge stung.

    Their repeated use of him as a tool against each other in their teasing rivalries or hierarchy headgame bullshit or as a way of shit-testing each other was certainly salt in the wound. Not that said salt didn’t perhaps spice up his own reputation or begin to add a bit of flavor. Even if none of them meant it, just several of these girls openly saying that he was cute could be some much needed leverage for pulling his status out of the dumps at school. Let alone the tiny bump there for his self esteem. Some large part of him wanted that, maybe needed that, but also it was hard not to just feel raw and used and immediately sick of it all.

    Vanessa wasn’t interested in him, and sometimes Eric had the impulsive insane urge to be blunt about that fact with everyone. Tear away that veil of facetious flirting and teasing and just voice some real uncomfortable truths, even if that would absolutely see him booted right back down the slope into total ostracization hell. The thing was, Vanessa didn’t care about anyone except for herself. Obviously. The only reason the attention of her banter even fell upon him in class in the first place was because he was the only guy at their table. And therefore a faceless proxy resource representing all guys, which she used to adjust her position in the cute little pecking order there at that table.

    That was it.

    It really wasn’t more complicated than that.

    Yet, some very normal friction appeared in the process of some other little girl subgroups coalescing into this larger one, budding rivalries had decided that Vanessa’s incareful bickering with him was a weakness which could be exploited, and—voila. The name of a guy no one actually cared about was suddenly bouncing around everyone’s lips for his fifteen minutes of fame, here. Hopefully it would only be five minutes of fame. Because the topic had almost immediately worn thin there, and had very little play left in it. Eric simply had the dubious fortune of being caught between a whetstone named Vanessa turning in one direction and a grindstone called Tiffany scraping in the other, and for now everyone was happy simply to see some mostly harmless sparks fly.

    It was almost the premise of this kind of get together.

    To his own surprise, he wasn’t really seething about all of this. After all, this was basically why he had shown up. Middle school had been a fiasco for him after everything with Mary, and his fresh start so far in high school amounted to him keeping his head down and trying not to be noticed. Things had not been fun, but Eric was trying to use the time to bury all of his bitterness so that it wouldn’t poison new friendships when he did start working towards making them, and the best time for that looked to be now.

    Tabitha was nice enough?

    Well, she was very very lovely to look at, friendly, and her naivete and or willful ignorance in regards to girl politic had a habit of making her seem incredibly attractive to him, after everything he’d been through. She had zero personal interest in him besides simple friendship however, and Eric made that very clear to himself with brutal precision each and every time they had ever spoken. As with several others, he regularly weeded out any other thoughts about her before they could grow into something which would only bring on more pain for himself. It was kind of interesting that she was into Bobby, and he was curious about why, but his feelings there were pruned back enough to not really feel jealous or anything.

    Which was nice.

   Leaning back against the kitchen counter so that he could see past the dining room table to take in the whole living room with everyone in it, Eric paused and then popped another chip into his mouth. Chewing slowly, appreciating the crunch and texture, trying to savor something. It was important to be careful and deliberate and mind every little detail he might accidentally reveal to the others.

    He hated Tiffany at first glance, and he was working hard not to let that influence how he acted or spoke tonight. Girls like her—prattling parasitic busybodies which thrived on gossip without regard to who their narratives might destroy—were what landed him in psychiatric counseling at the tail end of middle school. The earnest nervous admission of him having a crush on Mary back then, spoken to one of his supposed friends in close confidence. It was a spicy secret that spilled out into a scathing rumor, which because of girls just like Tiffany snowballed out of control into a whole nasty story. Until Eric somehow held the stigma of being a creepy obsessive stalker. If he was to mentally make any concession at all in his absolute fucking loathing for Tiffany right now, it was that she hadn’t mentioned his past ordeal with Mary yet.

    Yet.

    He knew that she already knew.

    It was, as always, a blade Tiffany held which was poised to cut in and sever any new connections he might attempt tonight. Which he would have to shove down his pain for, because the only way this would all ever go away was if he either played it cool or played dumb and pretended—convincingly—that none of it bothered him. But, for now anyway the obnoxious whale had apparently decided not to muddy too many contexts in regards to Eric. Not until she had eked out every scrap of utility he might otherwise serve in needling away at Vanessa, naturally.

    Okay, maybe I am actually seething a little bit? Eric couldn’t help but work his jaw. Let’s try to not think about TIFFANY, for now. Play it cool, Eric. Play it cool. They’re not going KNIVES OUT just yet. Will have to just see how long THAT lasts…

    The inclusion of Grace here into this group seemed to be either accidental or incidental, someone who seemed very out of place except as someone useful to Tiffany. Perhaps Grace was a slow bloomer, or late bloomer? In one of those unsubtle social checks where girls were testing to see if anyone was brave enough to out the fact that their host Tabitha had mysteriously jumped cup sizes overnight, Grace seemed to be the only one to genuinely not clock any differences. Even Eric playing along and throwing out dumb guesses didn’t really pass muster, and he felt most of the teens here knew it. Grace had unknowingly relegated herself to the sidelines of the secret girl game gestalt everyone else was playing at today.

    Eric appreciated, pitied, and perhaps even resented her for that in equal measure.

    The goth girl Elena was very attractive, today in particular, and having an actual scary hot girl like that stare at him in indifferent judgment for a long moment and then decide out loud that he was cute… did things to him. She was also very visibly out of his league, steeping herself in edgy subculture stuff he held no standing in, and as far as he was aware she was one of those aggressive, socially combative girls currently tearing a big messy rift through Springton High. Because of that he couldn’t dream of pursuing her even if he wanted to, because he would become an easy target for everyone butting heads with her. His past ‘scandal’ with Mary he was trying hard to bury for good would be unearthed again, daily, by everyone trying for an easy dig at Elena.

    That was that.

    Life had taught him some painful lessons, and he was trying to overcome a metaphorically disfiguring disability and figure out a way, any way to move forward with his life from here. If the situation with the Mary incident had been any worse, Eric would have had to transfer to a different school just to escape what had happened. In fifth grade an unfortunate kid named Barry shit his pants during school, and the poor bastard’s parents made the mistake of thinking everyone would somehow forget it after just a single summer.

    Almost half a decade had gone by—which was literal eternities for fourteen year olds—and he noticed everyone still brought up Barry now and then. Eric’s own reputation wasn’t quite that radioactive, but it had been nearly as bad. It cost him his closest friend, his mental health, his ability to trust, and his chances of getting anywhere with any girl at all, let alone his crush back then Mary. For now all Eric could do was take shelter beneath Tabitha’s kindness, and even if it irked him he would use this nonsense with Vanessa as a foothold to potentially climb up out of this pit he was in.

    Not much else I can do, not when I have to be completely fucking passive about everything, Eric thought. Express ANY interest at all in someone on my own? Then yeah, back to OH LOOK OUT GIRL, WATCH YOURSELF. ERIC’S THAT OBSESSIVE STALKER GUY, REMEMBER? Yeah. Wouldn’t want to—

    “Hey there, handsome,” An adult woman appeared in the kitchen. “Sandra. I don’t believe we’ve met? You’re one of Tabitha’s friends?”

    “Yes Ma’am,” Eric wore his well-worn look of respect and even offered her his hand which was free of crumbs or residue. “I sit at her table in art class. We’re all very lucky to have her there with us.”

    “Oh, look at you,” Sandra smirked, setting aside a bowl and spoon in the sink before giving him a handshake over the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room area. “Listen—I’m a mom, not a ma’am. Alright? I’ll mostly stay out of y’all’s hair today, you all seem like good kids. Make yourself at home! Hey, Clarissa.”

    “Hi,” The girl said as she stepped over as if to survey the chips and soda pop.

    Eric did a double-take at her fidgeting empty hands and turned to see that Vanessa had taken the big Cheetos bag from Clarissa and opened it right there on the couch. Sandra here didn’t seem to notice or mind just yet, but he could sense that Clarissa was already feeling guilt or embarrassment for maybe not ensuring the food she’d brought was taken over here to the counter. Some families were particular about crumbs and designated eating areas and all, and they were guests here.

    “Clarissa,” Eric gave her a nod but didn’t offer his hand. “Good to see you.”

    She seemed surprised he would greet her and all but gawked at him.

    “Hey,” Clarissa finally managed. “I’m. Yeah, hi. We have the same table in art.”

    “Yeah,” Eric confirmed. “Eric. Table six represent.”

    “I—I did know that,” Clarissa flushed. “That you’re Eric, I remember. I just. Yeah.”

    He didn’t feel the need to kick her while she was down or feeling so anxious or out of sorts for whatever reason, so he just gave her an understanding nod and reached into the open bag on the counter for another chip. To his surprise, she then seemed to settle in place there beside him—which was bizarre, because they barely knew each other. They’d just pretty much verbally established that they barely knew each other. It seemed weird for her to attach herself to him by standing over here out of everyone else’s way.

    Weird? But, I guess not unwelcome?

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/// Still a bit on the fence with this one, but good to get the ideas out of my head and looking over the drafts it might help break up some otherwise long sections of unceasing dialogue bits from just turning into noise? Will probably just trim this Eric piece down some. I very much like the idea that there are some very intelligent characters at Springton High there with Tabitha and the gang, but that maybe the most intelligent ones are the ones who play dumb and stay quiet, work to avoid attention.

Although it's also falling into that AnimeCon Harem writing trap of me trying to treat everyone as their own protagonist... ugh.

Maybe have to include at least certain parts of this one for later, because otherwise it's hard for readers to remember that tiny Mary reference from way back when and use it to show why Eric is intentionally being low key, why he may be ambivalent towards most of the group but actually really hates some of them, since his honest feelings aren't something he can outwardly display.

Don't start shipping him with Clarissa yet, we still need to insert Ashlee in and poison everything!