One Little Fight

Miranda woke up to the sound of a car horn beeping in her driveway. Grumbling in annoyance at herself for sleeping so late, she crossed the room and raised the window, leaning out to see who was trying to summon her.

“Randa, what the hell?,” Anthony shouted up at her.

“I over slept,” Miranda called back to him, “I”ll meet you at school.”

“Whatever,” Anthony yelled back as Aaron backed out of the driveway.

Watching until the Monte Carlo disappeared down the street, Miranda tried to make a mental list of all the things she needed to grab and do within the next three seconds if she wanted to have a prayer of getting to school sometime during first period. When her brain refused to move far enough beyond late-for-school panic, Miranda simply grabbed the first set of clothes that presented themselves in her closet and headed for the shower.

After simultaneously washing her hair, brushing her teeth and scolding herself for staying out so late with Gerard and his friends the night before, Miranda stepped out of the shower and nearly slipped on the damp tile about ten times in her rush to yank on the slightly too tight black jeans she’d meant to get rid of and her black button down shirt. Not bothering to search out a pair of socks, Miranda shoved her feet into the black and white Converse All Stars Gerard had persuaded her to buy after seeing her topple off the high heeled shoes she usually tried to wear and half jogged all the way to her first period class. It wasn’t until she dropped breathlessly into her seat that Miranda realized that not only had she forgotten to brush her still wet hair, she’d left her bag sitting on her bedroom floor. Angrily congratulating herself for leaving behind a paper that was worth half of her English grade for the semester, Miranda slouched in her seat and focused on trying to become invisible for the remaining twenty minutes of the hour.

By the time lunch rolled around, all Miranda wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep her way through the rest of the day that had started off bad and rapidly spiraled down the path to absolute hell with no escape in sight. She would’ve settled for simply using her lunch period to vent her frustrations to the ever sympathetic Gerard and his friends Dominic, Erika and Bonnie but Anthony had decided to cut class and spend the hour with her for the first time in a month so she had to spend the period hiding in the library instead. She knew Anthony wouldn’t be happy about the fact that she’d blown him off, but Miranda didn’t think she could deal with him in her present state. When the end of the day finally came, she was ready to just go home and be dead to the world until tomorrow but once again, Anthony had other plans.

Miranda knew the second she joined her friends at the back entrance that the day she’d thought wouldn’t get any worse was about to prove her wrong. If Anthony, Aaron and Donny’s glowering faces weren’t enough to clue her in, there was always the fact that for some reason she was now on the receiving end of McKenna’s infamous you-are-lower-than-dirt attitude. Certain she’d regret the question, Miranda timidly asked them all what was going on.

“You’re a fuckin’ whore, that’s what’s going on,” Anthony said coldly.

Before Miranda could come up with a response, McKenna added

“I thought you were smarter than this bitch. Cheating on Anthony with that gothic freak, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I never cheated on Anthony,” Miranda told them quietly, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he so called friends were now attacking her with even more viciousness than she’d seen them use on their most hated scapegoats.

“Then why the hell were you out with him at Pandemonium last night?,” Anthony demanded.

“It was a group thing,” Miranda stammered. “We were there with three other people.”

“You think I give a damn who else was there?,” Anthony demanded, pressing closer and closer to Miranda until she was finally backed against the wall.

“Bottom line is that you were there with him and not me.”

“We’re just friends,” Miranda told him, defending herself more on principle than out of any desire to remain his girlfriend.

What she really wanted to do was strike back at him for calling her a whore, but she was afraid enough of him that there was no chance of her actually standing up to him.

“Save the excuses for someone who cares,” Anthony snapped at her, “I don’t have time to listen to a two timing bitch.”

The attack clearly over, Anthony led the way out of the school. Part of Miranda expected McKenna, who’d been her friend since grade school, to hang back and make sure she was okay, but the other girl simply linked her arm through that of her boyfriend and followed the rest of the group out to Aaron’s car. Tears burning behind her eyes, Miranda wandered out towards the football field, intent on hiding out under the bleachers until she was composed enough to make the walk home. When she got there, she found Gerard sitting on the bottom bench, apparently waiting to meet someone. Before she could walk away to find a more secluded place to break down, Gerard noticed her standing there and rose to meet her.

“What’s wrong sugar?,” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her. Pressing her face against his chest, Miranda said “I’m having a really bad day.”

“What happened?,” Gerard asked, running a soothing hand up and down Miranda’s back.

Trying and failing to hold back tears, Miranda explained about her rather hostile expulsion from the only group of people to which she’d ever belonged. Rather than offering words of comfort that would’ve ultimately been pointless, Gerard simply let Miranda press her face into his chest and cry out the stress and hurt she was feeling.

After a few minutes of unrestrained bawling, the oddly comforting combination of Axe and cigarette smoke that clung to Gerard’s black hoodie soothed Miranda enough that she was able to actually look up at Gerard’s face without being blinded by a haze of tears.

“Feel better?,” Gerard asked quietly, laying his cool hands lightly against her tear stained cheeks. Sniffling, Miranda nodded.

”That’s good,” Gerard said, wiping the tears off her face before he brushed his lips lightly over hers.

“What was that for?,” Maranda asked him, slightly bewildered by the action.

“That depends,” Gerard said slowly. “If you’re about to tell me how completely inappropriate I’m being, then I’m really sorry, I have no idea why I thought that would make you feel better and it won’t happen again.”

“And if I’m not?,” Miranda asked, trying not to sniffle.

“Then I did it because I’ve been wanting to do it since the day we met and now that I don’t have to worry about being murdered by your boyfriend I couldn’t help myself,” Gerard said quickly, seeming uncomfortable with the confession.

Unsure of how to respond, Miranda said “yeah, you don’t have to worry about that any more.”

“I guess that’s good. Now all I have to worry about are all the other guys that are gonna be chasing you now that Anthony’s out of the picture,” Gerard told her with a smile.

“Yeah, sure,” Miranda said, trying not to show how relieved she was that he’d lightened the tone of their conversation.

As much as she liked Gerard, she didn’t think she was emotionally stable enough at that point to know if jumping into a relationship with him at that point was a good idea, and she didn’t want to make things awkward between them by turning him down if he’d asked her out.
“So, now that you’re a liberated woman and all that, would you be so kind as to allow me to give you a ride home?,” Gerard asked.

“I think that’d be okay,” Miranda said, laying her hand on the arm he’d held out to her.

“Then follow me, my lady,” Gerard said, leading back towards the parking lot.

“Aren’t you waiting for someone though?” Miranda asked as she followed him.

Gerard shook his head. “I didn’t have anything better to do,” he told her as he led the way to his slightly decrepit looking white Corsica.

“Your carriage, my lady,” Gerard said grandly as he opened the passenger side door for her. “It isn’t much, but after the work Dominic just did on it, it should get us from point A to point B.”

“Should?,” Miranda answered skeptically, her lips curving in a genuine, if somewhat fragile looking smile.