Just Go Along With It ✔️

Pretty Little Confessions

"Okay, first of you, how dare you," Wanda hissed. "This is class. It's sacred. You just can't come in here late as hell, dressed like shit, and expect me to say hey there, like it's a regular Thursday freakin' afternoon?"

You sat quickly, "Wanda, I'm only three minutes late." You whisper, face hot with shame, "I'm sorry."

She scoffed, eyes not moving from the lecturer at the front of the room. "Just because you've been sucking face with that new boy of yours? Please. Nothing's more important than Causes and Prevention of War. Except," she touches your wrist for a second, and knowing what follows when your fellow friend the psychic encountered objects, you hear her say under her breath, "Ooh, your aunt is a witch –,"

Someone from another seat shushed her with the ferocity of a librarian, and silenced, you two delved into the lecture about being legally correct and making sure not to get on the nerves of anyone else when tensions were high. Or something. You only were taking this class because you were taking a break from all the practical labs in your medicine, and because you were in want to catch up with Wanda after all the bullshit in your life recently.

But as furious Wanda was for your late entry at only one hundred and eighty seconds into the lecture, another person came in, at six hundred seconds. Helen's friend's friend, the one with dark hair.

Darcy.

She looked like hell, yet made it fashionable. Glasses askew, hair wild, she looked like the sort of broke girl who needed a friend in that moment, as the kind of mess she was, was hot, yes, but still a mess, and clearly from the mascara-fed tears, was not having a good day at all. And by how late she was, and the evil eye from the very evil lecturer, she was forced into one of the only seats left – which was beside you.

The rest of the lecture passes, and when the rest of the class gathers their recently inked notes, MacBook's and regular books, Darcy looks to you. "These guys don't kick you out if you stay here an extra five minutes, you know," she says. "I...I need to tell you something." Even though it's been almost about forty-five minutes, or an hour, she's still sniffily, and wiping a streak of dark tears over her cheek, she makes a noise. "I'm the reason behind all this shit."

Wanda puts a hand on Darcy's forehead, sweeping off hair that's sticking to the other woman's face. "Holy crap, you're burning up," Wanda glances to you, "and she's telling the truth."

You frown at the red-clad psychometric. "Really?" Her other hand is on Darcy's wrist, fingers upon her pulse. "Oh. Okay." Then, to Darcy, you address, sitting back in your seat. "You threw the rocks through my windows? You made Thor think I cheated on him when I'm the human embodiment of a goat sent out to the wild to be shitted upon by mankind?"

She nodded, sniffing once more, "It started back in Frosh week back when school here started..."

"Yeah?" you prompted.

"I was really into this guy, Ian, and Ian was into me, and that was cool. We hanged a bit before we banged like screen doors in a hurricane, but that's beside the point. Well, really, it is the point. There was – I mean, is, a guy who likes me too. Um, Fandrall. He's on Thor's team, really ripped, got facial hair going on too, so that's cute but only if you're into hipster shit.

"But I am into hipster shit thank you very much, and when Ian was off with me – he broke it off, so he could be down in case any other prospects come along, which I respect, totally, since I have the same mindset when it comes to meaningless sex and all that. But yeah. I was totally off with Ian. Fandrall just came to my room that night, flowers in his hands, chocolates, the whole package like it was Valentine's day or something. I didn't think anything of it at the time, I was like, PMSing really hard, but down to bone, you know? So, I boned. A lot.

"and then, that week was over. I think I took too many morning after pills, but whatever, my family has health insurance or some crap for that kind of thing. I started getting the books out, focusing on school rather than leaving it to take care of a lovechild conceived on the communal laundry floor. I broke it off with Fandrall! Sent a text, said it to his face, whatever. I think a day passed, and then Ian and I were a thing again? I don't know.

"...I used to room in the same building as you. The real nice old one? Yeah. I was the room beside yours, but I left when Fandrall got all crazy. I mean, he was always weird – I mean, he's practically obsessed with the idea that he's the shit. I mean, with the size of his woo, you would be, but he was OTT about it. Anyways. He threatened to kill me. No big deal, I practically got raised by Nat Romanoff's family, and know how to not get killed by egotistical white boys who think they're entitled to your hoo-hoo.

"I was out on a girl's night with Jane and Helen, but Helen left early because she had a studying session with some rando I don't know, Stefan, I don't know, he's strange as hell, and I got this strange as hell text from Fandrall, asking where my dorm room was in the building. I did what any logical person would do! I lied! He was freaking me out. I said your room, and next thing I know, campus is telling us to beware of vandals and putting bars on some of the windows around town and I just left there and roomed in with Nat. She doesn't mind me cockblocking her, she's used to it by now. In fact, I'm sure she's okay with it, with what calibre she's attracting now, since Arrows started coming around to play Wii..."

Wanda huffs, impatient from the life update from the practical stranger beside both of you. "So Fandrall did it? He's the one throwing rocks?"

Darcy nods, moaning sadly into her fist, and as she does that, another tear falls. "Yeah. He texted me every time he threw one of those rocks, and instead of it being about me, it turned to you? Like, Fandrall was kinda decent before the fuckboy-ery happened, and suddenly he was obsessed with you instead of me, and framed you for cheating on Thor when it was Thor cheating on you –,"

Wanda wipes a hand over her face, and sighs. "This is so dramatic...but then again, _______'s life is a freakin' train wreck, so who am I to judge. I mean, this all sounds like a terrible plot thought up by someone who knows nothing about conflict and resolution!" The seasoned political science student exclaimed, "It all sounds so fake, but...okay. Go on."

Darcy gives the other woman a slice of side-eye, and takes her cue. "But it's real! Turns out I was his beard. Well, he had a beard, but still. He was balls-deep in love with Thor the whole time, and he...ugh. I'm sick of it. I – I just had to tell you." She looks at you with sad, sad eyes like a buxom puppy.

"_______? You okay?" Wanda asked.

You're silent. "I have to call Loki."