Chapter Text
i.
It’s just a game, Toni, okay?
That’s what Martha had told her when Toni had volunteered to sub in for her intramural basketball team. Toni had wrapped her arms around Martha’s shoulders and squeezed her playfully, reassuring her that she wouldn’t toss any piss this time around.
Martha hadn’t looked like she’d believed her.
And now, as she's stretching her hamstrings on the side of the court, Toni thinks that Martha maybe shouldn’t have tried to pretend, and just told her to stay home.
The other girls that are here seem…well, they seem pretty useless.
There’s Fatin, a girl who’s even scrawnier than Toni, with nails that are so long, they look like they might pop the basketball, if she looks up from her phone long enough to get her hands on it.
Leah, who’s tall enough to maybe be useful, but she’s got her nose stuck in some shitty looking book and refuses to make eye contact with anyone.
There are the sisters, Nora and Rachel. Rachel’s apparently some bigshot athlete, but Toni thinks she might be sick, an unhealthy pallor clinging to her skin. Nora looks uncomfortable in her body, like she never got it to work properly for her.
Dot looks like she can handle herself, but the way she’s shoving Takis into her mouth five minutes before the game’s supposed to start is not encouraging.
“Jesus, Marty,” Toni pulls her arm across her body, stretching out her shoulder, “this is your team?” She blows out a low whistle.
“We don’t play to win,” Martha says, “we just like to have fun.”
“Lame.”
“Toni,” she sighs, and Toni rolls her eyes.
“I’m kidding, relax,” she laughs, “it’s just a game, right?”
Martha smiles at her, pulling her into a hug. Toni breathes in the familiar smell of generic shampoo and tries to root herself in it.
“Hey y’all, sorry I’m late!”
Over Martha’s shoulder, Toni watches as this blonde white girl literally bounces over to the team. She’s got an obnoxiously high ponytail and a blindingly white smile. Martha is out of Toni’s arms and greeting this new girl before she can even blink.
“You would not believe the traffic out there right now,” the girl continues on, walking over arm-in-arm with Martha, “it was like a Sunday afternoon outside of church, all the way through town.”
Great, Toni thinks to herself with a huff, a bible thumping coloniser.
“Toni,” and Martha is in front of her with this blonde chick, “this is Shelby. Remember I was telling you about her?”
Toni blinks. “Not really.”
“That’s alright,” the girl, Shelby, says, “it’s nice to meet you, Toni. Martha’s told me so much about you.” She sticks her hand out and Toni looks at it. Martha clears her throat and Toni sighs, reaching out and taking the white girl’s hand.
She squeezes harder than is probably necessary.
“Firm shake,” Shelby says, her smile still stuck on her face.
Any snarky retort that Toni has on the tip of her tongue is cut short by Rachel calling the team to huddle up. Shelby excuses herself to run some warm-up lengths, pulling her sweatshirt up over her head and tossing it onto the bench.
Toni hates that she lets her gaze linger for just a second on the strip of skin that’s exposed with the movement.
“Alright, we’re oh-and-four right now,” Rachel says, and Fatin makes this sort of hissing noise, grimacing comically. Rachel glares at her, and Toni thinks that she might be meeting her match in terms of competitiveness.
“So, let’s make it five-and-oh,” Leah mumbles. The girls all snicker, except Rachel and Toni.
“If you’re not gonna take it seriously, Leah, you know where the door is,” Rachel snaps.
Leah holds up her hands in surrender. “Chill, Rachel. It’s intramural basketball.”
“Let’s all just have fun,” Martha chimes in.
“I’ll take centre,” Toni says.
“Rachel usually plays centre,” Nora speaks for the first time, and Toni furrows her brow.
“So? There’s only eight of us, we’ll have to sub through sometime.”
“I don’t sub.” Rachel says it and Toni can’t help the snort that sneaks out. “You got a problem?”
“Nah, no problem,” Toni says, waving her hand as she reigns in her laughter, “just that I find it hard to believe you can last a whole game without subbing.”
“You wanna bet?” Rachel steps towards her, and Toni follows suit, until they’re almost nose to nose.
“What’s going on here?”
It’s Shelby, hands on her waist and chest rising with her quickened breath.
“Nothing,” Dot says, “just these two having a dick measuring contest.” She grabs both of the posturing girls by their shoulders and pulls until they have to step back. “Toni, you can start at centre, and Rachel can be your sub. The rest of us can cycle through the other positions. Deal?”
“Sounds great to me,” Shelby says, and Toni grits her teeth at the drawl of her Texan accent. “Let’s have fun out there, okay?” She claps her hands together like they’re at a fucking summer camp, breaking the huddle and bouncing away onto the court.
Toni rolls her neck and jogs out to centre court. The other team is already set up, the referee waiting patiently for someone to take the tip-off. Toni shrugs and takes the initiative, stepping up to the circle. She looks over her shoulder at the three of her teammates who are taking the first sit. Martha looks happy where she’s settled between Nora and Leah, sipping on a red sports drink.
Distracted, Toni runs right into someone that smells like heaven.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” and of course, it’s Shelby, and Toni scowls. Shelby smiles in a pursed-lips kind of way, tilting her head. “I thought I’d take the tip-off, since I’m the tallest one out right now.”
“Well I’m the best player out right now,” Toni challenges, and Shelby gives this breathy sort of laugh, “unless anyone else here has captained a team before? Won state championships?”
“I was the best player at my summer bible camp a few years back,” Shelby says, “I got a little trophy and everything.”
“Yeah, well,” Toni crosses her arms over her chest, “Jesus never played ball.” It’s a weak comeback, but her blood is starting to boil under skin. Shelby just shakes her head with a little smile on her lips.
“Ladies, I really just need someone to jump for the ball,” the referee says, and Toni steps back.
“I don’t even care,” she snips, “take it.”
The game starts with Shelby missing the tip, and Toni curses under her breath. She turns on the gas and chases down the girl with the ball, getting right in her face to guard her. Her opponent is quick, pivoting and passing the ball off to her teammate.
“Who the fuck was guarding her?” Toni calls out as the new ball-handler runs through their defence and scores on a tight layup. Fatin holds out her arms and shrugs. “Guys, stick to your marks, come on!”
The game pretty much goes on like that. Their team manages to get a few lucky shots, Toni pushing her way through the defence and tossing three-pointers like her life depends on it.
It all falls apart in the final quarter, unsurprisingly.
Toni is pressing back against a defence, trying to get open for a pass from Nora. The girl she’s leaning on steps back suddenly, and Toni’s ass hits the floor.
“Toni, are you okay?” Nora calls across the court. In her distraction, one of the opposing team’s players steals the ball right from her hands and rushes down the court unopposed.
The swish of the net sets her off.
“Fuck!” Toni yells, whirling on the girl who had dropped her. “What’s your fucking problem?” She steps up to her, her vision tunneling. “If you’ve got a problem with me, bring it on!”
“Cool it,” the referee says, blowing his whistle half-heartedly. Toni laughs, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Oh, so now you want to chime in with that whistle?” She turns on the referee now. “Try making the fucking call when she fouls me again.”
Shelby appears out of nowhere, her hand hot on Toni’s arm. “Okay, let’s just take it down a notch.”
“Get the fuck off of me,” Toni spits, wrenching her arm from Shelby’s grip.
“Take a seat on the bench,” the referee says, “or get the hell out of the gym.”
“Fuck!” Toni yells, spinning on her heel and stomping across the court. She grabs her bag from where it sits by the bench and storms her way through the gym doors, down the hallways, and out into the night.
The sky is clear and dark, stars drowned out by the parking lot floodlights. Toni throws her bag on the ground and kicks it, shouting with each hit. Her arms chill in the cool air, the light coating of sweat cooling against her skin.
It’s just a game, Toni.
Just ignore them, Toni.
It’s not worth it, Toni.
Toni grabs her bag and trudges over to the nearby bench, slumping onto it and tilting her head to the sky. Her anger ebbs like a tide until its out, and hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The shame, the embarrassment, that’s what always follows the anger, and here it comes on cue.
“Ninety-nine,” Toni counts softly to herself, “ninety-six, ninety-three.” She rummages through her bag and pulls out her jacket and water bottle. “Ninety, eighty-eight, eighty-five.” Pausing her counting, she takes a long drink of water. Some spills out the corner of her mouth, and she wipes it with the sleeve of her jacket.
The counting was something she had learned from some social worker, once upon a time. She’d thought it was stupid; if anything, math just stressed her out more, and she’d refused to try. But even the most stubborn tree will eventually fall to a woodsman’s axe.
At least math didn’t make her want to throttle someone.
She sits and waits until she sees people start to trickle out of the building. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Toni hesitantly approaches the familiar figures.
“Hey,” she says, hunching her shoulders. It’s impossible to miss the stink-eye looks that a few of the girls give her, but it’s nothing new enough to bother her. Martha meets her gaze with a reproachful, resigned look.
That’s familiar, too.
“Marty, I’m sorry,” Toni starts in a wavering tone, but Martha just shakes her head. Toni tucks her chin to her chest and sucks her lips over her teeth. She tries to subtly wipe her eye on her shoulder, sniffling slightly.
“Hey, why don’t we all go for pizza or something?” Shelby says, trying to cut through the tension. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m starving.”
“Pizza sounds nice,” Nora says.
Shelby loops her arm through Martha’s and smiles that blinding smile. “What do you say, Martha?”
A reluctant smile creeps onto Martha’s lips. “I guess pizza does sound pretty nice.”
“I could go for that,” Fatin agrees. The rest of the girls all chime in their interest, even Leah cracking a smile.
Toni stands to the side, twisting her fingers together behind her back.
“Come on, then,” Shelby says, and she directs her smile at Toni, “let’s all get going. I can give four people a ride in my car, if you’d like.”
There’s a chorus of “shot-gun!” and other trying to divide up into the available rides equally. At the end of it all, Toni finds herself squished in the backseat of Shelby’s car between Dot and Leah. There’s some cheesy country music on the stereo as they drive, the radio display confirming Toni’s suspicions that Shelby is trying to subconsciously convert them all.
“You get any metal stations with that thing?” Dot asks. Toni smirks and hides a laugh behind a snort. “What? I like my music to actually rock.”
“No, I like it,” Toni says, “it’s got grit.”
“I don’t think I know which station that would even be,” Shelby says from the driver’s seat, “I’m a bit of a one-trick pony with my music.”
“Just Jesus jams,” Toni mumbles, and it’s Dot and Leah’s turn to try and hide their laughter.
“I like it,” Martha says, and Toni rolls her eyes at her desperation to be liked by this fake, blonde bitch.
“You know, Martin Luther once said that next to the word of God, music is the greatest treasure in the world.” Shelby recites the line like she’s got it written across the back of her eyelids or something, and with a conviction that grates against every nerve in Toni’s body.
When they reach the restaurant, Toni sits as far away from Shelby as she can. Her voice still pierces her eardrums, that Texan twang floating down the table.
Toni spends most of the meal staring daggers at her. Shelby doesn’t seem to notice, hardly paying her any mind.
“I think this is real nice,” Shelby says as they all pay their bills, “just spending some time together like this. Makes me feel like we’re really coming together as a team.”
“Surprisingly,” Fatin says, “I have to agree with Mother Mary over there.”
“We should have a party,” Martha suggests. “Teams in movies always have parties.”
“I don’t party,” Rachel says in her deadpan way.
“You don’t sub, you don’t party,” Toni raises an eyebrow, “what next, you gonna tell us you don’t shit?”
“I’m a high-performance athlete,” Rachel fixes her with an even stare, “I don’t pollute my body with toxins like alcohol.”
“No one is going to pour vodka down your throat,” Toni says.
Nora puts her hand on her sister’s arm. “Team bonding is a really important part of sports performance. Usually, Rachel only has to bond with herself.” Everyone chuckles at that, except for Rachel and Toni, still locked in on each other.
“My daddy knows a guy who has this lakeside cabin near here,” Shelby says, “I’m sure he would let us all go up there for a weekend.”
“Your dad knows a guy who has a cabin,” Leah looks around at the group. “Does that not sound sketchy to anyone else?”
“Fuck it,” Dot says, “I’m in. I don’t care if Shelby’s planning to murder us, I’m pretty sure we could all fight her off.” Shelby laughs at that, ducking her head and smiling.
“I wouldn’t stand a dang chance.”
ii.
It’s funny, Toni thinks, how once you’ve met someone, you see them everywhere.
She’d never noticed Shelby before, but now she was everywhere. Toni saw her at the drug store, at the gas station, at the fucking Olive Garden. Her sacred space, invaded by this random girl from Texas.
And no matter where she saw Shelby, she always heard her first. Her laugh was unmistakeable, her accent reaching Toni’s ears over any other noise.
It was like she was stalking Toni, in her impeccable outfits and perfectly coiffed hair.
Sometimes, Toni would see a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of her eye, and she’d grit her teeth, expecting the ensuing pearly-white smile and golden cross, and there would be a drop in her stomach when she realised it wasn’t Shelby, for once.
It felt like she was on constant fucking alert, ready to dodge the good word at any moment.
Not that Shelby ever seemed to notice her.
In all the sightings, the innumerable times that Toni had huffed and ducked behind shelves, hidden her face behind a menu, Shelby had never seemed to notice or care that Toni was there.
Pretty fucking rude, if you asked her.
It’s with all of this on her mind that Toni sits at a lonely table in a lonely bar on a Wednesday night, half a pint growing warm in a glass as she rips up a cheap cocktail napkin. Her eyes stare down at the scuffed table, nicks and scrapes from years of harsh use. Her eyes trace the little “T+R” that sits at the other side of the table.
Something golden and blonde catches her eye.
By some act of some vengeful and malevolent spirit, Toni’s eyes lock onto the now-familiar shape of Shelby’s body. She’s just entered the bar, Dot and Fatin by her side. They’re all rosy-cheeked from the wind outside, and Toni slumps down in her chair, tugging the collar of her jacket to try and hide her face. She watches as they find a table, Dot making her way to the bar to grab drinks.
Shelby’s eye catches her gaze.
Fuck.
“Hey, Toni!” Shelby calls out across the bar, drawing the eyes of a few patrons. She doesn’t seem to care, just waving Toni over with that beaming smile. Fatin sort of wiggles her fingers, her eyes glued to her phone.
Toni tries to signal that she’s good, she’s happy where she is, but Shelby points her out to Dot, and then Dot is buying her a beer, and suddenly Toni finds herself sitting right across from Shelby.
She hadn’t noticed before that her eyes were green.
“What are you doing here all by your lonesome?” Shelby asks, and Toni taps her fingers on the cool glass.
“Enjoying some peace and quiet.”
Shelby sort of chuckles at that, but Toni holds her clenched jaw and stony eyes. Fatin’s gaze flickers between the two of them, an eyebrow cocked.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?”
That takes Toni by surprise. She hadn’t expected Shelby to have the balls to call her out, and she respects it by returning the bluntness.
“Not really, no.” Toni leans back in her chair and shifts her jaw, lifting her chin in defiance.
“Can I ask why?” Shelby shrugs and leans her forearms on the table. “I’ve been nothing but polite to you.”
“I just don’t get along with fake Christian bitches,” Toni answers. “In my books, your people don’t have a great track record.”
“Okay,” Dot says, drawing the word out, “how about we just shake hands and move on, alright?”
“Whatever,” Toni mutters. She cradles her glass against her shoulder, taking periodic sips as Dot directs the conversation to literally anything else.
They make small talk about classes, about work, about basketball and their now mutual acquaintances. Toni wouldn’t consider any of them her friend, except Martha.
Obviously.
An eternity later, Dot and Fatin take off in a cab to their apartment. That’s something Toni learned tonight, that Dot and Fatin are roommates. Possibly two of the most different people she’s ever met, living together. Kind of mind-boggling.
That leaves Toni standing on the curb with Shelby.
“Do you live nearby?” Shelby asks.
Toni stuffs her hands in the pockets of her coat, “Not too far.”
“I don’t mind giving you a ride,” Shelby offers, “I haven’t been drinking at all.”
“I’ll walk.”
Shelby sighs and turns her eyes to the sky, fingering the cross that hangs against her collarbone, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but Toni can’t take her eyes off the shadows that the streetlights are casting across the dips of Shelby’s neck.
“Can you just let me drive you home?” Shelby asks. “Let me prove to you that I’m not some…how did you put it…fake, Christian bitch?”
Toni’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “You say your prayers with that mouth?”
“Very funny,” Shelby says, and she’s got a bit of a wry grin on her lips, “now, come on. I don’t want to have to force you into my car.”
Toni sighs and relents, following Shelby to her shiny car. She slides into the passenger seat, the leather seat cool through the denim on her legs. Shelby starts the engine and turns on seat heaters.
“Pretty sweet ride,” Toni says. The car smells like leather and some sort of sweet air freshener.
“Thanks,” Shelby smiles, “my daddy gave it to me when I came here for college.” She pulls out of the parking space. “You can pick some music, if you like. And put your address in the GPS, I’ll just follow that to get you home.”
“What, you’re not letting Jesus take the wheel?” Tonia says it and immediately wonders if she meant it as a joke or not, because there’s the hint of a smile forcing its way on to her lips, and Shelby matches it.
“I’ll take care of the driving tonight,” Shelby says, “the Lord is only my shepherd when I’m traveling under 30 miles per hour.”
Toni snorts and fiddles with the car’s interface. She hates that Shelby is actually kind of funny. Her fingers tap in Martha’s address, seeing that it’s already been visited a few times. “You hung out with Marty?”
“Oh,” Shelby waves her hand, “just once or twice. Mostly just drove her home from games and class.”
“Right,” Toni says, “she said you were in her ethics course. I didn’t know that was part of an MRS degree.”
She doesn’t miss the way Shelby’s jaw tightens, the line of it highlighted by the passing streetlamps. “I’m actually a business major, if you wanted to know.”
“I didn’t.” Toni starts playing around with the radio, flipping through stations until she lands on one that she’s sure the girl beside her will hate.
“Oh, I like this song,” Shelby says.
“You like Macklemore?”
Shelby nods, “Don’t you? You picked it.”
Toni folds her arms across her chest and shrugs. “It’s fine.”
They drive in silence the rest of the way, Shelby mumbling the words to nearly every song that came up. Toni notices how each “fuck” is changed to “frick”, “shit” to “stuff”, and so on, but for once she just clamps her mouth shut.
Shelby turns on her hazards when she parks out front of Martha’s house. “It was nice chatting with you, Toni.”
“Right,” Toni rolls her eyes, “sure it was.” She grabs the doorhandle and pulls it open, swinging her legs out of the car. Squeezing her eyes shut and swallowing her pride, she chokes out, “Thanks for the ride,” and then practically leaps from the car, slamming the door shut before she can hear Shelby say “god bless America” or whatever the fuck.
Martha’s mom is still up, nursing a cup of tea in front of the television, the Blackburn’s dogs at her feet. She doesn’t say anything as Toni sits down beside her, just reaches out and pats her on the knee. Toni curls up in the corner of the threadbare couch and pulls the familiar crocheted blanket over her legs. Her eyes start to drift shut, lulled to sleep by the comforting sound of the wheel of fortune spinning, spinning, spinning.
The morning comes with hot, wet, putrid dog breath. Toni groans and shoves whichever dog is in her face, sitting up slowly. Her mouth is dry and her stomach feels queasy, but she wraps the blanket around her shoulders and follows the smell of breakfast into the kitchen.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Martha greets through a mouthful of eggs. Toni grunts in response, accepting the cup of coffee that Bernice puts in her hands. She collapses at the kitchen table between Martha’s two little sisters. They both giggle at her, and Toni narrows her eyes in a scowl.
“Monsters,” she grumbles.
“Okay, girls,” Bernice holds up two backpacks, “school time. Leave Toni alone.” The little Blackburn girls push back from the table, their chairs scraping against the linoleum floor. Toni groans and rests her forehead on the table, waving a limp hand in the direction of the kids.
“You were out late,” Martha says.
“Maybe.”
Martha leans across the table and taps Toni’s head until she lifts it from the table. “Shelby texted me.”
“Do you have to bring her up over breakfast?” Toni runs a hand through her untamed hair. “I’m nauseous enough as it is.”
“Not nauseous enough to refuse a ride from her,” Martha comments with a little smirk.
“She bullied me into it,” and it’s a weak defence, but she sticks to it, “said she was gonna exorcise me unless I let her drive me home. Perform her white-guilt act of the week.”
Martha sighs, taking her empty plate to the sink and washing up. Toni sips on her coffee, squinting against the sunlight that pours in through the back sliding door.
“She’s really nice, Toni,” Martha says from the sink. “She always offers me rides, and she helped me pay for lunch when my card was declined.”
“White people love to help out poor little res girls,” Toni drawls, “I’m sure she’s thinking it’ll just look good on her application to eternal glory, or whatever.”
“Toni-”
“Whatever, Marty,” Toni sort of laughs, exasperation creeping into every corner of her voice, “can we go five fucking minutes without talking about her?”
Martha turns off the tap. “Sure.” There’s a few beats of suffocating silence until Martha speaks again. “Are you coming to the cabin party?”
“What did I just fucking say?”
“Well,” Martha raises her hands and widens her eyes, “I didn’t say her name, I’m just trying to invite you to the party.”
Toni’s knuckles are white where she’s got an iron grip on the coffee mug.
“Please, Toni?” Martha pulls up the chair beside her, and Toni stares resolutely into her cup. “You know I’m not really a partier. I need my bodyguard.” Lips quirking up into a smile, Toni glances over at Martha’s earnest smile.
“Fine,” Toni huffs, “but if it sucks, you’re gonna owe me for the rest of our lives.”
iii.
So, clearly Shelby has a very different idea of what a constitutes a cabin than Toni does, because she’d definitely classify this place as a fucking mansion. Toni and Martha stare up at the three-storey ‘cabin’ in awe, Dot mumbling a ‘holy fuck’ beside them. The rest of the girls don’t seem to notice how fucking insane this place is, just wandering in through the giant front door and chatting excitedly.
“This is,” Martha begins, trailing off.
“Not a cabin,” Toni finishes. She shakes her head, “fucking one percenters.”
Dot snorts at that, hefting her backpack, “you can say that again.”
“I’ll bet you ten bucks there’s a sex dungeon hidden behind a bookcase,” Toni says, the three of them starting up the steps.
“I’ll bet it’s a murder dungeon.”
Toni barks out a laugh and nods her head. “I’ll take that action.”
If it’s at all possible, the inside of the mansion is even more imposing than the exterior. It’s all wood paneling, and Toni feels like she’s stepped back in time to the early twentieth century, and she’s been brought to some estate manor home for a weekend of hunting. Animal trophies line the front hallway, and she spares a look over to Martha.
“You okay, Marty?”
Martha swallows and nods. “Yeah.” She keeps her eyes down as she takes off her shoes and quickly makes her way through to the next room where the rest of the girls can be heard laughing and chatting away.
Toni and Dot follow her, and this room is somehow more ridiculous than the first. Brown leather couches, a monstrous fireplace with a big cross above it, a rug that’s bigger than any room Toni’s ever had.
By her rough estimation, Toni thinks the Blackburn house could fit into this room twice over.
“Okay,” Shelby is standing in front of the fireplace, the cross shining above her head, “so there are a few house rules we’ll need to follow while we’re here.”
“Great,” Toni mumbles, flopping back on one of the couches. For something that looks so expensive, it’s really fucking uncomfortable.
“There are a few rooms that are locked,” Shelby continues, her smile taking on a strained quality as she drifts her eyes over Toni, “and I’d ask that you all respect that. Use coasters on the tables, no dirty shoes past the entrance hall. And, of course, have fun!”
“Oh god,” Fatin groans, “she’s going full youth group on us.” Toni watches her rummage through her bag and pull out a massive bottle of tequila. “Enough talking, bitches; let’s fucking party!”
By the time the sun has set, Toni is pleasantly drunk. She feels warm all over, a smile permanently floating on her face despite Shelby’s best efforts to make the day feel like a summer camp straight out of Toni’s worst nightmares. Somehow, they had avoided having to play too many “icebreakers”, Rachel taking initiative to set up a table for beer pong to keep them all distracted. Toni couldn’t help but smirk at the way Shelby’s eyes were worrying holes into the mahogany table, despite it being covered by a plastic sheet.
Toni celebrated every shot she landed, popping goofy dance moves and brushing her shoulders like she was scoring threes in the NBA.
Sometime after they had eaten a very drunk dinner, Dot had called them all out to the lakeside deck, a fire roaring in the big pit. Toni lingered back, volunteering to bring out some drinks and snacks.
As she digs through the fridge, a throat clears behind her.
“Jesus, fuck,” she jumps in surprise.
“I’m sorry, I tried not to startle you,” and of course it’s Shelby, hair loosely piled on the top of her head.
Toni blinks and shakes her head, because for a split second, there’s a flutter in her stomach at the gentle slope of Shelby’s neck, the tantalising way some stray hair tickles at the skin there.
“Yeah, well,” she twitches an eyebrow up, “you did.”
“I just thought maybe you could use a hand,” Shelby says, pushing past Toni’s hostility.
Toni flexes her jaw. “You could grab the snacks, I guess.”
“Great,” and Shelby smiles like it’s the best thing she’s ever been allowed to do, “you know, that’s something good about Christians. We help people.”
Toni can’t help the scoff that escapes her throat. “Uh, I have to disagree there.”
“Why’s that?” Shelby says. “You know, most of the world’s leading charitable organisations were put in place by churches.”
“Okay,” Toni says, widening her eyes and slamming the fridge shut, “but you were also responsible for the genocide of my people and culture. You know, my grandparents were in the residential school system. Martha’s, too. Go ahead and ask them if they think Christians are helpful.”
“Well, I never said we were perfect,” Shelby defends, and Toni laughs.
“Sure,” she says, “you didn’t have to. It’s all over your face.” Without waiting for an answer, Toni grabs the case of beer and strides past the other girl and through the back door. She storms her way to the fire, taking her seat next to Martha and passing the beer around.
“Hey, Toni,” Leah calls for her attention through the flames, “where’s Shelby?”
“I don’t know,” Toni says, “probably giving thanks for the Takis she’s supposed to be down.”
Everyone laughs, and Toni smirks, enjoying the attention for once.
“What’s so funny?”
Everyone’s laughter dies down as Shelby approaches, her arms full of food.
“Uh,” Fatin looks around the circle of girls and her eyes widen as she searches for an excuse, “Rachel farted.”
“I did not!” Rachel opposes, and everyone bursts into laughter again. Shelby sort of smiles, taking the seat on the other side of Martha.
The smell of her perfume drifts through the air to Toni’s nose.
“God gave us these beautiful bodies,” Shelby says, and Toni rolls her eyes, “so everything they do is godly and beautiful.”
“Amen,” Fatin says, closing her eyes and waving her hand in the air.
Somehow, through some train of conversation Toni couldn’t follow, the group decides to play charades. Like they’re a group of seventy-year-old women after a bingo game. And, somehow, they decide that whoever just acted out the words gets to pick the charade for the next person.
“Well, it’ll just mix it up more that way,” was Shelby’s reasoning, “don’t you think?”
Toni spends most of the game drinking, not caring too much to participate, but she still manages to guess Fatin’s shitty impression of a bear. There’s something wicked in Fatin’s eyes as she leans over and gives Toni her topic.
Toni swallows back her laughter and nods. She holds up two fingers.
“Two words,” Martha says. Toni nods, then puts those two fingers on either side of her mouth and sticks out her tongue, making an exaggerated face, flicking her tongue and rolling her body. All the girls break out into laughter, and it eggs her on, her movements becoming more exaggerated and theatrical.
“Lick the clit!” Leah calls out, and Fatin shrieks out a laugh at that.
“Damn, she knows what she’s doing,” Rachel howls with laughter.
“Would you stop?!”
Toni freezes, opening her eyes and finding Shelby. She’s staring into the fire with wide eyes, every muscle in her body tense.
“Okay,” Dot says, looking down at her hands, “that was hilarious and Shelby has no chill.”
“Excuse me, I have chill,” and Shelby looks the opposite of chill, “I just don’t find that kind of thing very funny, is all.”
“What kind of thing?” And Toni knows the answer as she asks, but there’s a burning fire in her chest now. The look on Shelby’s face is familiar, the way she won’t look anyone in the eye.
Shelby shrugs, still staring with unblinking, hard eyes. “Pornographic gestures.” She starts gesturing with her hands, her arms stiff. “I’m a Christian, okay, I’m from a very Christian home, so I’m allowed to be a little skeeved out.”
“Get the cross outta your ass,” Fatin says, but Toni can’t take her eyes off of Shelby, can’t look away from how uncomfortable she looks, how disgusted she looks, “it’s fun to be filthy.” As if to emphasis her point, Fatin licks Takis dust off her fingers in a very explicit way.
“That’s not all that’s going on here,” Toni interrupts, and Shelby still won’t look her in the eye, and that just drives her anger even further. “Don’t bullshit me, Shelby. I’ve felt this vibe a few too many times to not know what it is.”
“Toni, I’m sure that’s not it,” Martha says, but Toni laughs.
“Look at her face, Marty,” Toni says, pointing a finger at the hard clenched muscles of Shelby’s face, “she can’t even look at me. It’s not porn that ‘skeeves’ her out, it’s gay.”
Martha fixes Shelby with a confused look. “That’s not true, is it?”
“Look, I’ll be as honest as possible with y’all, because you deserve that,” Shelby says, and Toni just lets out this breath of air, leaning back in her seat, “I do believe that way of life is a sin.”
“Jesus Christ,” Toni laughs, “fuck you.”
“I’m sorry,” Shelby tries, and finally she looks at Toni, but it feels like there’s a thousand more miles between them than there have ever been before, “but everything I have ever known has taught me that.”
Toni stands up and nods her head. “Yeah, well, maybe I should have known to listen to everything I’ve ever known about white Christians like you, and stayed the fuck away from here.”
“Look, there’s no hate in my heart,” Shelby continues, “I just feel sorry-”
“Fuck you!” That’s the last straw, and Toni shoves her chair back until it tips over, letting her anger carry her feet off into the darkness. Behind her she can hear the quiet voices of the other girls drift on the breeze. She storms through the house, not bothering to take her shoes off, stomping her feet to try and get as much dirt off the soles of her shoes as possible onto the floor.
She collapses backwards onto the bed she’s sharing with Martha, staring up at the ceiling. Her heart is slamming into her ribs like a fist, blood rushing in her ears.
“Ninety-nine,” she says through gritted teeth, “ninety-six…”
iv.
After that weekend, Toni doesn’t see Shelby everywhere anymore. It feels like someone, or something, is finally on her side, letting her get on with her life without having to avoid every flash of blonde hair and white teeth.
Of course, she takes up a good chunk of Toni’s brain. That night plays on a loop in her head when she lies awake at night, all the things she should’ve and could’ve said. Scenarios where she punches Shelby right in her perfect mouth. One where someone stood up and did it for her.
She has dreams about it, too. Although she knows her subconscious is truly sadistic when a lot of those dreams revolve around tackling Shelby to the ground and, well, definitely not punching her.
Toni can’t believe her dumb brain is this hung up on the opinion of some shitty white girl.
She really can’t believe that her dumb fucking brain is turning that into some sort of sexual thing. Because it really isn’t. Sure, Toni has eyes, but no matter how pretty Shelby is, no part of her wants her in that way. Because she’s a bigot. And annoying. And the total antithesis of everything Toni believes in.
The next time she sees Shelby is at work. It’s her fourth job in as many months, and somehow this Arby’s was desperate enough to hire her as a waitress. It’s definitely the worst job she’s had, but she needs the money, so she’s been slapping on her apron and fake smile as best she can.
It’s a Friday night, just after seven, when Shelby comes through the doors with a group of equally white-bread people. Toni curses under her breath, bussing her table as quickly as possible and praying to anyone who’s listening that Shelby’s group doesn’t get seated in her area.
Of course, no one is listening.
Toni grits her teeth and grabs her pad of paper. Her fingers are wrapped so tightly around her pen she thinks she might snap it, but she swallows her pride and her rage and heads over to the table.
“Hi, welcome to Arby’s,” Toni says, “can I start you with some drinks?”
Shelby looks up, looking just as shocked as Toni felt when she saw her come through those doors.
“I think just a couple jugs of water will do, right?” A man says, and Toni takes enough of a look around the table to realise that this is Shelby’s family. Her mother and father, and two younger kids.
Toni feels this deep, aching sense of dread right in the pit of her stomach.
“Sounds great,” Shelby’s mom says, and Toni nods.
“I’ll be right back with those.”
Her heart is pounding in her ears, she feels dizzy as she walks back to the kitchen. She fills two pitchers of water, apologising as she accidentally bumps into one of her coworkers. Her arms shake as she carries them back to the table, setting them down carefully.
She has to lean past Shelby to do so, and that same perfume fills her senses.
“Uh, are you ready to order?”
Shelby’s father orders for everyone. Toni can feel Shelby’s eyes on her, but she keeps her head down and focused on writing the order. She makes the usual reassurance that it won’t be too long, and she goes to hand the ticket off to the kitchen. With a brief word to her supervisor, she heads off to the bathroom.
The lock clicks behind her and Toni leans on the sink, taking a few deep breaths. She splashes water on her face and stares at herself in the mirror.
“Toughen up, Shalifoe,” she mutters, “she’s just a shitty bigot you hardly even know. Get over it.”
Their food is delivered, all the healthiest plates that Arby’s has to offer. Toni watches from across the room as they all bow their heads in prayer.
Shelby’s eyes stay open, and she finds Toni across the room.
Toni turns away.
Unsurprisingly, Shelby’s dad is a shitty tipper. He writes “god bless you” on the bill, tipping at a measly ten percent. Toni pushes out a smile and wishes them all a goodnight, beginning to bus their table. Dishes are stacked, the table wiped down and sprayed with some cleaning solution.
“Hey.”
Toni sighs and finishes wiping the table.
“What do you want, Shelby?” She turns and faces her.
There’s something different about her. Toni’s eyes trace the makeup, heavier than usual. Her hair looks sprayed to shit, barely bouncing as she looks around them.
“I just,” and she hesitates, clasping her hands in front of her chest, “I wanted to say hi.”
“Okay,” Toni looks around them at the restaurant, “well, I have to work. So…”
“Right,” Shelby says, “of course, I just…well, I was wondering if maybe, sometime, you’d like to get a coffee with me?”
“Why the fuck would I want to do that?” Toni can hardly believe her ears. Maybe she hadn’t been clear enough with the amount of ‘fuck you’ energy she’d given out throughout the rest of the cabin weekend.
“I thought we could talk.”
Toni laughs, scornful, and she doesn’t miss the way Shelby flinches ever so slightly. “We don’t have anything to talk about, Shelby.”
“I don’t hate you, Toni,” and she steps a bit closer, and there’s something almost desperate about her eyes now, “you get that, right?”
Toni’s heart starts to race, the smell of Shelby’s perfume intoxicating her. She swallows and grabs her cloth from the table. “Fine. Coffee.” And she steps back, trying to put more space between them.
“Thank you,” Shelby says, and the smile she offers isn’t that fake pageant bullshit, it’s small and careful, and it knocks the anger from Toni’s chest with a gentle hand. “I’ll send you a text message, we can set it up.”
“You don’t have my number,” Toni points out.
Shelby raises and eyebrow. “Don’t I?”
“Martha.” Toni sighs and shakes her head. “Fucking Martha.”
Shelby backs up, still keeping her eyes on Toni. “I’ll see you later, Toni.”
“Whatever,” Toni mumbles, entirely uncomfortable with where this conversation landed. Shelby’s smile widens for just a second, and then she’s turning and walking away. Toni watches her go until she realises what she’s doing, and drags her eyes away from the shape of Shelby’s body.
“What the fuck.”