The Cinderella Agreement (Completed) [Featured Story]

07: The Friendship

AS THE WEEK drew on, Mit started to suspect that Paris had no intention on improving her appearance specifically, but instead striving on the sick satisfaction of Mit's exploitation, from book carrying to grocery shopping to errand running.

Each time they did it, she felt a bit of her esteem fray away little by little, sinking even lower than its state at her genesis of their agreement, but she still continued to hold on to the little bit of trust and hope she had in Paris, because she knew who she had been before.

The left piece of her earphones slid out of her pinna and dangled at her thighs, distracting her attention briefly from the teenagers on the field below. She did this often—coming after school and sitting on the bleachers that lined the lush, green field—although this time, she had a subordinate priority: waiting for Paris to finish up cheerleading practice.

The other side of the field, the majority that was unoccupied by girls in skimpy, colourful uniform, was dominated by the football team in bulky gear. It made her wonder sometimes, why some people found it unorthodox for a boy to be a cheerleader and a girl to play on the football team, but her internal gender-related disputes always immediately dissipated whenever her eyes landed on Marshall.

Mit didn't know a lot about football, maybe except the fact that Marshall Andrews looks really good while he played it, and the pants worn for it did a decent job in making the boys' butts 'pop'.

This had been her primary motive when she came to the school bleachers before, under the guise of finishing homework in 'the fresh air' and being 'in touch with nature'. It was apparent that Finn never once bought any of her coverups, but he let her be anyway, tagging along until it was time to head home.

But today was different, because she wasn't coming only for football, and Finn couldn't be allowed to accompany, and she lied once again on grounds of a book club meeting to get him to leave without her. Of course, she wasn't a member of the school's book club, nor of any other club (she had already covered that in freshman and sophomore year, and had decided to slack off just for this junior year) but for some reason, Finn chose not to query her, simply slinging his backpack over his shoulder with a brisk goodbye.

Before Mit could successfully replug her stray earphone back into its rightful position, a nearby giggle caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Tuesday Adams sprinting towards her.

Unlike Aimee and Paris, who both had light features, Tuesday's skin was bronzy, her hair the darkest shade of black that resembled charcoal. And also, she had an amicable personality, one to the extent that Mit often wondered how the senior managed to be friends with Paris and Aimee.

"Hey, Mit," she chirped, reaching into her bag for a bottle of water. The sweat on her skin glistened like a natural highlighter, and jealousy stirred slowly within Mit, who always thought herself to sweat like a pig.

Mit usually found it overly difficult to converse with people outside of her comfort zone, her throat tying itself into irrevocable knots until she was sure she couldn't breathe, but there was something about Tuesday that just felt safe. Tuesday always knew just what to say, and how to say it, and had an interesting story to tell behind every conversation. She never made you feel awkward, at least not intentionally, and possessed a character similar to the effervescence of champagne.

Tuesday was, in simple terms, a people person.

And so, Mit held no qualms at all in replying, "Hi; are you guys done?"

Tuesday's brow quirked up from behind her bottle in question, and she hesitated before answering, "Yeah. Waiting for Paris again?"

"Yes."

Her face mellowed sympathetically; she had played witness the day before, when Paris made Mit walk straight lines over the white markings in the parking lot, then propping books upon her head because 'something like that happened in The Princess Diaries'. Like, fûck, do I look like Princess Mia?

Afterwards, the blonde had sussed that Mit's task wasn't difficult enough, and in solution made her do the nae-nae simultaneously; it had been a failure, in short.

"I wonder if she's ever going to get my name right," said Mit, removing both earphones out of her ears; there was something about girls like Tuesday that just made you feel like they deserved undivided attention. "She's called me like ten different names that start with 'M'. Yesterday she called me George; that's not even close at all."

Tuesday laughed, a mellifluous sound stifled by the palm pressing against her mouth. "Don't sweat it, she'll get the hang of it. Paris isn't very good with names."

Right. Like Marshall too. Do all popular people have partial amnesia? Early signs of dementia?

Following the unconvinced grunt that Mit produced, Tuesday spoke further, as if making it her duty to defend her friend's shortcomings, "When I first met her she called me all the days of the week before she eventually got it right. Sometimes, she threw in some month names just a to jazz up things a bit."

Tuesday chuckled, although Mit wasn't sure what the joke was, or what was funny, and in insecurity, wondered if the girl was mutedly mocking her in some way. Her brow wrinkled, and as Tuesday continued to laugh, she contemplated replugging her earpieces.

"You know," Tuesday was saying, interrupting Mit's internal battle, "Paris isn't a bad person, really." Her long, toned legs swung over several benches so that she could sit beside Mit, sharing the view below. Their gazes fixed unitarily on a figure below, Paris, as she laughed at something one of the team members said. "It might be hard to believe, but it's true. She's just a diamond in the rough; a little, tiny diamond in a sea of rough. I probably sound crazy, defending her, but I guess friendship does that to people. It brings out the good in others and disregards the bad, you know?"

Mit knew very well, because she as well had had her taste of friendship before Finn, before High School, before betrayal. It seemed so far away now, so long ago that it was most likely another fabrication constructed by her mind.

But it was true, and it had happened; it was real, even though nobody but herself appeared to remember.

She and Paris used to be best friends.

when your mind is in chaos during the holidays surrounded by extended family members and you've had too much wine and you *accidentally* use one of your character names to reference an unrelated character in the addams family