Cheaters

A social outcast is 'known but rejected' but an outsider is 'an Unknown that is also rejected' this difference means little to the people who do the rejection, but it makes all the difference for the rejectee.

"You really should be more prepared for criticism." Her new art teacher says, this was Ashley’s first time working with oil, and to put it bluntly Missus Gauthier seems to be stuck three weeks ahead of her despite the transfer. “I’m sorry, I’ve never worked in these before. I’m new.”

“Well that’s quite an excuse. I really feel that students with such promise should be more dedicated.” Gauthier wipes her brushes off on her towel and not her well worn apron.

“Ah, alright.”

“It’s good that you understand.”

“Sure” she said, “may I be excused?”

“Of course, you can’t be wasting all my time.” Gauthier said, looking over at the closed door. One of her hoe-dogs was on the other side, Ashley wondered why those boys liked her class so much, as their work never seemed more than pedestrian from what she understood.

She left quickly before finding her way through the halls and onto her other classes. She wasn’t exactly sure why their little talk was meant to be important, but she really wanted to escape the feeling of it, more so than question it.

The rest of her day was filled with more or less perfunctory things before school was off and she could walk home. That was something she could safely do now.

Nobody was waiting to… shit, looking across the street she saw Erica Gilyard making direct eye contact with her like some kinda wannabe felon, that was something she did now, memorizing classmates like some kinda spy. Like that would make her safe.

Ashley B-lined off the street just to avoid the other girl, she knew perfectly well how to get home and this was her desirepath.

That didn’t stop Erica from following her, again like a felon. Upon hitting a different street about halfway to her house the taller girl yelled, “Hey Jacobs!”

Ashley ignored her on her march home, she really wasn’t interested in the usually surly girl. “Hey, Mister Ashley?” at that, Ashley turned around more annoyed than anything at her tone. And said “Who are you calling Mister, Eric?”

At this Gilyard smiled and just about barreled into her, “Nobody, I was just checking your ears.”

“I don’t know about that Gilyard, you ain’t a doctor.”

“Well that’s just a risk of ignoring people.” she pointed out, “They start testing you for shit that don’t matter.”

“Is that why you were staring at me like that?”

“Kinda, I saw you get singled out. I’m guessing somethings up with Gauthier again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s been our art teacher for a few years now. And she tends to be kinda, well, a bitch. She’s usually nice to the guys ‘cause they’re weak to criticism. Especially when it comes to subjective subjects like art.”

“That’s not exactly how she put it.” Ashley thought back, corrective. She didn’t want to jump in and agree that her teacher’s view of her was illegitimate, “she said “I expect better of you.” like she knew me or something. Like I was failing her personally for not knowing what she didn’t explain.”

“Yeah well that’s the thing about crit and receival, I can’t guess at what your response was, but it’s not something she ever does with the few boys who take her course, so.” Erica looked at her and sidetracked instead of continuing directly, “Listen. I need some place to stash my supplies.”

“What, why?”

“Well, my mom’s boyfriend is a dick with feet so I need to keep anything he could wreck out of his way.”

“Why would my house be a better place for your crap?”

“Look I was just hoping for an art buddy.”

“An art buddy?”

“Yeah. You seem like a cheap date. Er, well. At least not a creep or too soft.”

“I don’t…”

“My home is literally two buildings over from here,” Erica pointed to the building, “we can fetch, I can carry and we can practice cheating Gauthier’s critical eye.”

“Cheating?”

“Yeah. Cheating.” Erica affirmed, before saying, “You’ll kinda need to, if she’s decided you’re the new ‘girl’.”

“You really think that?”

“Well yeah. It’s like Artemis and Arachne, when faced with a big ego you’ve got to play on their idea of themselves. Or else you might get screwed over.”

“I’m pretty sure that was Athena.”

“She turned the girl into a bug Ashley, that just doesn’t sound like Athena.”

“Couldn’t all the Greek gods do stuff like that?”

“Not the point. She thinks highly of her critical acumen but I don’t really see her test it broadly. She usually picks a target and wears them down until they stop really challenging her.”

“But I didn’t challenge her.”

“Yes you did, at least she thinks you did. You haven’t been here a week and she called you in on what?”

Ashley paused a few minutes. “Well?” Erica asked impatient before continuing, “It wasn’t something mean you did, or something gross you painted. It was not knowing everything about the medium she failed to introduce to you.” she looked down at the pavement, “and then you explained yourself, and then she made it your fault, and then she said “your wasting my time” or something like that. Right?”

Ashley couldn’t argue. That was what happened.

“Do you want to play that fiddle now?” Erica let go of her shoulder, and Ashley shook her freed hand…

It wasn’t even a thirty minute wait for Erica to have collected every scrap of art supplies from her room, even as small as it was it still filled two reusable bags for transport. Ashley for her part sat in a truly decrepit twice resold looking old man chair while she waited for Erica. Looking around the living space there were few knicknacks she couldn’t guess were from dead relatives, ceramic angels with worn faces, and chipped mugs.

Most of the furniture had a similar feel, not especially cared for, but still used. Ashley offered to take one of Erica’s bags, but she shooed her off like a rowdy toddler.

Erica carried everything, while Ashley was left with just her school bag as they went to Ashley’s home. By then her mother was driving up, rather surprised to see the taller girl walking with her and so much stuff.

“Well who do we have here?”

“A friend.”

“Oh, good. What’s in those bags?” her mom asked.

To wit, Erica answered, “All the colors in the rainbow. And a lot of paper.”

“Really? And where did you get that?” she asked, thinking that Ashley had stolen a credit card or something. Like a delinquent.

“Look, Erica.” Ashley said, opening the door, “you can go in and wait.”

“Ashley.”

“I didn’t steal anything. Erica just wants an art buddy, which is why her paints and shit are gonna live with me for now.”

“It’s not that. Did you at least clean your room?”

“No. But I don’t imagine she’d judge.”

“Honey, she wants to share custody of what looks like 500$ or more in art supplies. She should judge you for your mess.”

“Yeah mom alright. Whatever you say.”

“Yep whatever I say. You don’t mind making your own snacks?”

“No. I think we’ll manage.”

“Good, do you mind making mom something?” her mom asked, which made her snort. Erica was in the center of the living room when they walked in, standing awkward with her bags. The dissonance between her posture and her get up, then the actual fixtures in the room were like a painting by itself.

“Oh hey sweety, what do you like? Turkey or ham?” her mom asked Erica, who seemed a bit shell shocked.

She set her things down and said, “ham.”

Her mom smiled and said, “Well hop to it, I don’t imagine you’re running on much right now.”

“Thanks.” Erica said.

But Ashley was already manning the kitchen, which was something like a closet with a fridge and too many shelves. She was certain that her mom would engage Erica with some kind of conversation, if only to offset the time Ashley needed to make sandwiches.

Or more over to keep Erica out of Ashley’s room entirely, which would be fair she guessed.

Erica was still kinda glib when she came out with the tray, and their snack, her mom was if anything very animated while talking at Erica.

It was a quick enough interaction, which led up to Erica going home having left her bags, and her mom remaining ignorant to the teacher they were going to bamboozle…

It became the usual arrangement for Erica to come and pick Ashley up, or well walk with her to and from school, and they would spend their time before and after depending on timing doing their self-imposed art homework.

Which was less “do what she would want” and more “do anything but, to understand what you're doing”, which was odd, until it became clear that Erica would probably gag herself with her paintbrush rather than be that agreeable to the Critic in question.

And Ashley could accept that, it was the root of all their interactions. But it was all so strange to her, how did she come to such a negative opinion of Missus Gauthier? How did she become so certain of it?

But at the same time she remembered how things were at her old school, the teachers were overall ineffectual, but the idea that any of them would involve themselves, well she couldn’t know that. That was kinda the point of transfers, of leaving with personal reasons assuaged.

It was mostly an option due to her mom’s terms of employment, and while things had been untenable, it wasn’t so much a thing her teachers would or could help with.

There’s gaps between Gauthier’s sniping at her, but it’s still common. Looking over her shoulder with scrutiny, and while she doesn’t feel she’s gotten worse, “the shadows are wrong here” she points out, and Ashley thinks to deflate before really looking her work over. With too small a brush and only really detail-work instead of properly tried methods she started to see Erica’s view on the subject that was her teacher.

But Mike has to giggle like a freaky little hyena and she ends up glaring daggers. Fuck that guy. She thinks before shifting her gaze to his work, it’s the same issues but Gauthier seems only to skim, in that white-water way one could confuse for milk.

She doesn’t remember saying anything, but she feels hands at her locker after class and she just about punched someone…

"I thought a new place would make a difference, but it hasn't, and I can't bring it home again. I just can't do it."

"I'm not saying you should, but you need help.”

She doesn’t talk about the hands, it’s kinder to leave it as snide comments, half-assed crit. Nothing else happened…

“Look, Gauthier dresses like a free-love hippy-dip with no opinions, but it’s a cover. She’s always been harder on the girls in her class, and her boys tend to follow suit.”

“Why?”

“Honestly I don’t know. Maybe they think they have a chance.”

“Gross, she’s like forty.”

“You ever hear about the seven year itch? Besides, boys don’t really think about it like that.”

“That can’t be true.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Sex is a low-risk venture for boys, and an easy time is an easy time. Even if the lady is old, or too young. Or unconscious.”

“Good God.”

“I know it’s gross, but I’m just saying it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Why do you think that about our classmates?”

“Look, it just wouldn’t surprise me.” Erica had said, “I don’t have anything on them but their behavior overall, and what Gauthier prioritizes. I wouldn’t know if they do or don’t, or if she actually bothers to lead them on. But I know that they take her word and her frame and her turn of voice, and that when they do shit they know she’ll cover for them.”

“I can’t know that for sure.”

“It’s alright if you don’t. Just be safe? You know their hoe-dogs, what's wrong with accepting what else that means?”

It shouldn’t have been a fight but she couldn’t even respond…

Damnit where is she? She thought. Erica was supposed to walk with her, but she was late. That was the issue, but she didn't call either so she left the minute she had to. Even when fear spiked on her way, and on her way she saw Erica’s apartment building, walked right in and knocked and walked in instead of just.

“Who the hell?”

“Where’s Erica?”

“Oh, you’re her little girlfriend.”

“Well yeah. She, I didn’t see her at school today. She wasn’t there to walk me home.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Where would she be?”

“I got a tracker. If you don’t mind invading her privacy a bit.”

“You Lojacted your girlfriend’s kid?”

“Good grief, she still introduces me as the boyfriend?” he smiled, before turning the tracker on. And with that they had a place to go. A timeline. Where the frick does Erica keep her phone? Her stepdad, god why didn’t she just say so, let her ride with him. That was the deal, she texted her mom, they went into the edge of town where they’d hopefully find Erica, and not just her phone…

“You know her names Erica ‘cause her Aunt’s used up all the other flower names.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s like a whole garden when there’s a family get together. Azalea, Rose, freaking Daisy. Erica was all that was left that wasn’t too Latin for a preschooler to spell.”

“That’s surprising. Why bring it up?”

“Just making conversation.” he said, a long gaze at the road. “You seem to trust her. About this.”

“I do.”

“Why? Girls lie too.”

“You’re right, we do. We cheat. We try to make do with what we can get.” Ashley agrees, “She walks me back and forth ‘cause she knows I need the company. She tells me things I don’t want to hear, but she doesn’t speak to what she can’t prove. She hasn’t said a thing that didn’t make sense to me. To what I’ve experienced.”

“She hates her art teacher. She used to see a challenge. Now she sees a blunt instrument. And boys who get their way.”

“Why is that?” she asked finally, only to learn too much…

It’s a stupid choice to leave the car, a dumber one even to be where they were. But she sees Erica tied and freaked out. And Gauthier’s freaking hoe-dogs all in a fucking row, and its just. Why did Erica need to be right about this?

Gauthier for her part is exactly as prim as always, bright colors and curly hair. And then hears it, “I don’t understand how you can be party to such lacking skills.” the critic says. Erica remains quiet, “You were such a smart and taciturn girl, a perfect little artist. Then you got bold, made excuses for your own failures. Now you’ve allied yourself with that little twit.”

She looks up from where Erica sits, looking right over into Ashley’s eyes, and is she wrong to still think that’s a felony by itself? With a tilt of her head her hoe-dogs make the point, “stop that.” Ashley says.

She gets the feeling that Mister Gilyard is a normal fucking man, and that he will call someone, or maybe her mom will, but he knows where they are ‘cause Gauthier is crazy and artsy enough to forget that girls have phones.

“I’ll come to you.” Ashley says. Stopping behind Erica. Erica is so upset, and frankly its the worst thing in the world, but she sits down besides her, and says, “Don’t you know, it's unfair to criticize the Weaver without her Tapestry?”

“What?”

Her hand seeks the other girl’s shoulder, as she sees what she’s up against, “Arachne?”

“I know what that is!”

“Do you? It seems like you don’t. Why don’t you explain yourself?”

“I don’t need-”

“Can’t you break down a metaphor when you hear one! I’m her work!” Ashley said “I’m who she taught ‘cause she couldn’t just do! I’m who you criticize because you can’t teach!”

Gauthier’s face sours down to her tone, “Easy for you to say, all wrapped up in ease and care, like you are now. But you’ll lose out in the end. This easy time, people not treating you like crap anymore will leave you weak, and petty. You should take the criticism with tact and grow.”

She looks sidelong at Gauthier’s apron and Ashley kind of wonders how much of its staining was fake. How much of a put on, competent, or thoughtful really were in her case.

“You should really look at people when they’re talking to you.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

"I-”

“Kidnapping isn’t criticism Missus Gauthier. Sicking your boys on any girl you can’t sight the mirror of is foolish. And you.” she spat to the boys, “What’s wrong with you? Submitting yourself to a woman who allows this kind of incompetence in you!”

And with that, bright lights shone through and suddenly, suddenly things were going to be okay…