Page 22 of Nobody in Particular

The rain drizzles to a stop, and we start to walk back to the field, side by side. “So,” Danni muses as we walk. “Last year, a few girls really had it out for me. One, especially, used to bully me pretty much every day, calling me ugly, and dumb, and anything else she could think of. She’d laugh at me if I ever had to do presentations, or if it was my turn to run in gym, or if I answered a question in class. Then one day, she told the whole class that I was bullying her, and everyone turned on me, and everything I did was wrong all of a sudden. It was like everyone hated me. Everyone believed her, even though I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

It seems to me that she’s opening up to match my intimacy level. A vulnerable anecdote for a vulnerable statement. If she’s trying to make me feel less exposed, she’s succeeded. Perhaps she’s more perceptive than I gave her credit for. “What did you do?” I ask. “Did you set the story straight?”

“No one believed me when I tried. I just sort of waited it out, I think. People got bored and moved on, then they forgot.”

Suddenly, I realize there’s an extra layer to why she’s telling this story. “Thank you. It’s not the same thing, though.”

Danni looks horrified. “Oh, totally. It was a ridiculous analogy. Mine was just a little… whatever, who cares. Yours is huge. I don’t even know—I can’t even imagine. I shouldn’t have tried.”

Goodness. I’ve never flustered her this badly before, and I wasn’t even trying to tease her. “I just meant,” I say when she finishes, “your situation was different because you didn’t deserve it.”

Danni gives me a sharp sideways glance. “And you do?”

I trail my fingers along an ash tree trunk as we pass it. “Well, everything they’re saying is the truth. I should have known better. I shouldn’t have been drinking, and I shouldn’t have been doing drugs. I should have been protecting my friends. I failed on every count imaginable. They expect more from the future leader of their country. And so they should.”

“Yeah, but you’re not the queen yet.”

“I’m the crown princess.”

“I mean, yeah, I know that. But you’re also a teenager. You’re gonna screw it up sometimes, and then you’ll hopefully learn from it and figure your shit out as you go like the rest of us. Mistakes happen; you’re still a good person.”

A startled laugh bubbles out of my mouth before I can stamp it down. A good person? Clearly, Molly didn’t tell her everything about Amsterdam, or she would never call me something so boldly off base. I suppose one might make the argument that I’m good if you ignore that, along with my abrasiveness, and disinterest in the lives of acquaintances outside my circle of friends, and the drinking and drug use. Along with the laundry list of more minor flaws the papers enjoy reminding the country of daily.

As I said. Danni doesn’t know me at all.

When I pull myself together, I lift my chin and face her. “No, I’m not,” I say, quiet but firm.

She holds my gaze. “Well, you could be,” she says. “If you try.”

I want to latch on to her words and hold them close. There’s a promise in them. That the future is within my control. That there’s a version of me—a version that actually likes herself—I may become if I can simply make the correct choices moving forward.

“We should get back to the game before my absence makes the front page,” I say.

“Very fair. Time to go back and be judged.” She sighs.

“Yes, quite,” I mutter, but then I catch myself. “Wait, you? I know why I’m being judged, but what have you done to anyone?”

Danni grabs her jacket by the zipper and shakes it. “Notice anything?”

“Lovely parka.”

She breaks into a grin. “So you can be tactful. I knew you had to have it in you somewhere.”

Right. The students were laughing at Danni’s jacket, were they? That simply won’t do. When Molly claimed her, she became one of us. And nobody laughs at us. I take a piece of material between my finger and thumb and examine it. Danni catches her breath in surprise at my closeness. “It’s green,” I say. “Close enough.”

“Yeah, army green.”

“Excellent stitching, nice… solid material.”

“Uh-huh,” she says flatly.

“Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” I say brightly.

She doesn’t take me seriously at first. “Oh, sure, and I’ll just freeze.”

“No, you can take my jumper. We’re about the same size, I’d say.”

Danni laughs shortly and starts to walk forward. “Yeah, okay.”

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