Putnam Valley High School

Giving Up

Barfée's POV

"Why are you wearing pajamas?" I ask Chip when he sits down in math class. First period, so most of us are pretty tired, but certainly not this tired.

"What? These are regular clothes." He glances down at his plain white T-shirt and plaid pants. "I wear these all the time."

I snort. "You also look terrible. It's like you got out of bed at 3AM, showered, went back to sleep in your soaking wet clothes and then dragged yourself to school while half-awake."

"Shut up, incel."

Our teacher comes in and the entire room quiets down, right as I'm answering, "Have fun looking like shit all day." Fuck my delayed responses. Everyone stares at me.

"Okay, guys, let's calm down a bit," says Mr. Stein, our math teacher. Chip subtly gives me the finger from his seat.

To make matters worse, he catches up with me after class. "Hey Barf." When I don't respond, he snaps his fingers in my face.

I turn to him. "What's your problem?!"

"You suck, you know that? If you must know, I was locked out of my house last night." He crosses his arms. "I slept at... at a laundromat."

"That is absolutely pathetic. Don't you have a sunroom?"

"I—Leaf was with me, he had nowhere to go. And I didn't want my parents... finding me."

"Look, whatever." I try to walk faster. "I don't wanna talk to you anyway."

I have phys ed next, which I absolutely hate, because I sweat through the armpits of my shirt. And then I have my elective next—this semester it's goddamn Food & Nutrition, which means I have to cook with sweaty armpits. But honestly, anything to get away from this conversation.

-

Foods rolls by, and I'll admit I miss the first few minutes because I'm busy with the hand dryer in the upstairs boys' bathroom, but I eventually come in and am greeted by Olive.

"Hey! I was afraid you weren't showing up!" she tells me when I sit down.

"I never skip class," I respond matter-of-factly.

"I know," she grins. God, one time I had a horrible fever and literally almost fell asleep in math—I actually rested my head on my desk at one point out of sheer exhaustion. Chip took pictures. But yeah, Olive, keep on grinning.

"So, uh..." My friend fidgets with her hair, avoiding eye contact. I mean, neither of us can really conform to ridiculous rules like that, but she looks to be actively avoiding my gaze instead of just staring at, I don't know, my hair or my ear or my arm or a poster behind me.

"Yeah?" I can't help sounding annoyed. Dammit. "I'm not annoyed."

"Cool, thanks." She looks at me. Like, uncomfortably at me. "Are you going to homecoming this year?"

"Olive, we have to get to our respective kitchens," I blurt. I mean, we do, but I didn't answer her question. Well. Maybe I was aware of that.

"Dang, we do. Sorry." She gives me that uncomfortable stare again. "I'll, uh... go."

"Good," I say with a straight face.

And that's it. She goes. For a second I feel kind of bad, but it's honestly better. We're making dough for pizza, which means it's going to be a two-class recipe. That's hardcore.

Logainne's POV

I'm still beating myself up over what happened the other day. If my dads—especially Carl-Dad—knew I was slacking off like this, I'd never hear the end of it. Worst case scenario, I don't know. Maybe I'd be disowned. Although, would that really be...?

I hear my name called in front of me, so I look up. My route home is finished, but I was so caught up in my worries that I didn't even notice. I don't wanna be disowned. I wanna stay with my dads is what was going through my head, but it may be more of a mantra than anything.

It's Dan-Dad, having noticed me outside. I run up and hug him, happy to see him despite my earlier speculation.

"How was school, honey?" He bends down a bit to my level (I'm still quite short).

"It was great!" I say through my teeth. "Those kids from the spelling bees all go there, and they're nice to me, Dad! Some of them, anyway. They talk to me! ...And we had a vocabulary test on one of the first days, but today they gave us the results. Guess what I got!"

"Oh, knowing you it was probably the highest in the class."

Carl-Dad opens the front door, joining the conversation. "What was this?"

"A vocabulary test," Dan-Dad gushes, turning to him. "Logainne, tell us what you got."

"A hundred!" I smile. I love this feeling of pride all around. My worries are disintegrating by the second.

"That's wonderful. I knew you'd do it." Carl-Dad puts his hands on my shoulders. I think he's going to pull me into a hug, but he doesn't.

"Here, we should probably go inside. I heard about wasps still being bad this time of year," explains Dan-Dad, while ushering is inside the house. I drop my backpack by the back door, then join my dads in the living room.

"The spelling bees are coming up, right?" I ask them. Since my friends and I all go to the same school now, only one of us will make it to the district bee. If Marcy hadn't quit the overachiever role to pursue freedom, I'd be glad she didn't go there. I'd never make it out alive.

Not that I have anyway. I haven't won since my eighth grade district-wide spelling bee, and then I crashed and burned when it came to the county one. For the fifth year in a row. So that's loads more pressure from Dads to do well. But it makes every good moment count even more.

"That's right!" Carl-Dad remembers. "We should go through some words today. How's that sound?"

"Good," I respond correctly. A girl can't catch a break in this household. That's my life.

"You know, every step has led you here," Dan-Dad tells me. "You may have failed in the past, but you're fourteen now. Acing that vocabulary test was only the beginning!"

"You think I can win Putnam County this time?"

"You could," Carl-Dad pipes in, a flat look on his face. "The last five, you didn't. And if you do, what are the chances you'll win Nationals?"

"I don't know." I feel small.

"Carl, she's much better now!" Dan-Dad scolds him.

"I'm just saying, why are we trying anymore?! She's not putting in the effort."

"She's a very smart girl."

"Yes, but she doesn't apply herself."

My hands go to my ears, drowning out whatever Carl-Dad is saying about 'we could have adopted another kid, but you...'

Every year, it's like this. As soon as I lose another bee, there seems to be endless fighting sprinkled in between training for the next one. But... based on what Carl-Dad was just telling me, I don't know if I'm even worth it anymore.

Maybe my dads are finally giving up on me.

They head to the kitchen to hold a Daddy Conference, and I immediately escape to my room, where I can't help bursting into tears, muffled by my old raggedy Squishmallow.