Chapter Text
Cleopatra had been thinking very thoroughly, and upon thinking thoroughly she discovered a strange truth about the nature of thinking, which is that the act of thinking does not equate to the virtue of thoughtfulness.
Thinking can be many things, in fact. Planning, scheming, analyzing... all practices Cleo was familiar with, but thoughtfulness? That was new.
And she wasn't anticipating the idea coming to her, it just found her. When Joan apologized for spreading rumors about her and forgave her for everything she'd done herself, it gave her quite a shake, at least internally.
Emotional vulnerability was frightening. When Joan went for a hug, Cleo put up her front again, acting like she was above the situation, and straight up left.
Now she was thinking about how she was so easily forgiven, and about how she's adored by so many people at Clone High, and yet, how she's affected by a deep, longing, loneliness.
She wondered if she had ever had a true friend. A friend that she wasn't using for her own personal gain, or not just some guy that she had frequent sex with.
At this point in time, she guessed, the closest friend she had was Joan. She needed to seize the opportunity to be a better friend as soon as possible, before they drift apart and she's left again with no friends at all.
So here she was now, approaching Joan's lunch table with her heels clacking against the floor beneath her.
The four of them turned their heads towards her. Joan, JFK, and... what's her name again? Frida. Frida something. The fourth one, she couldn't remember a name for at all.
"Uhm... Hey, Joan. Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could talk to you for a little bit?"
Joan smiled reassuringly, as did the others at the table. "Sure thing," Joan said. "Why don't you have a seat right here?"
Cleo set her lunch box on the table and sat down.
"So, whatcha wanna talk about?" Joan asked.
Cleo tried to ignore the other three who were staring at her. She grabbed one of Joan's hands and looked her in the eye. "Well... first of all, I wanted to thank you for being the first to apologize. I hate to admit it, but I know that I wouldn't have been able to do the same if you hadn't."
Joan's voice began to quiver. "Oh, thank you! It's really big of you to admit that, Cleo."
Cleo smiled and lifted her head, blinking strategically to avoid ruining her makeup.
"And, I also wanted to say that I'm sorry, specifically to you. Because I know I made your life a living hell, like, twenty years ago, and yesterday when you said you were glad that we didn't hate each other anymore, I totally brushed you away. I'm sorry."
Joan was the first to break, wiping away a tear with a quiet sob. After that, the floodgates completely broke for Cleo, sobbing with eyeliner and mascara streaming down her face. She leaned against Joan and gave her the hug that she could have given her yesterday.
They pulled away sniffling, as JFK handed them both napkins to wipe their tears away with.
"Thanks, babe," Joan said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Cleo sat fidgeting, shyly eyeing the other three people at the table. "And um, I'm sorry to you guys, too," she said to the other two girls. "I remember you guys, and what I did to you at homecoming was... unspeakable."
Frida gave a light chuckle. "Don't worry about it. Water under the bridge, okay?"
The other girl squinted at her, nodding her head. She wasn't smiling.
"I'm sorry," Cleo repeated, "I never even got your name."
The girl smiled, though the corners of her eyes didn't crease. "Harriet Tubman," she introduced herself, offering a handshake to Cleo.
Cleo returned the gesture, trying not to wince at Harriet's strong grip.
She put her hands back on her lap. "And, JFK, I'm really glad to see you so happy with Joan. I'm sorry about last- uh, twenty years ago, you probably figured out by now that I was just using you to make Abe jealous."
JFK shrugged. "Ehh, well, I wasn't any better, really. I won't let you believe that you were that terrible to me, though. Y'know, you were one of, uhh, the people who were there for me when Ponce died. So, thank you, for that." Tears steadily began to flow from JFK's face now, though he did his best not to make any noise. He blew his nose into another napkin.
Frida pat JFK on the shoulder. "Let it out, big guy. Let it out now, then we'll do some breathing exercises, 'kay?"
"Good idea, Frida," Joan commented. She grabbed one of Cleo's hands and held one of JFK's in the other. She began to lead Cleo in a breathing exercise. "In through your nose for four seconds, hold it for seven seconds, out through your mouth for eight seconds."
Cleo began to breathe as Joan counted for her, but she exhaled quickly before the seven seconds were over. She opened her mouth, but before she could say something, Joan started counting again, with Frida counting with her.
Eventually Harriet began counting, too, and JFK followed along with the breathing exercises. It took Cleo a few tries to get the hang of it, but she did feel herself begin to relax. Before they all knew it, the bell had rang.
It seemed like Frida didn't even notice. Harriet snapped her fingers and waved a hand in front of her face. Frida pushed the hand away and finally tore her gaze away from Cleopatra. She playfully punched Harriet on the shoulder. They both laughed.
Finally the gang began to pick up their bags. Cleo had only brought her lunch box, leaving everything else in her locker. She didn't even get to touch her food.
Frida glanced back one more time, and decided on something. "Hey, Cleo, why don't you come with me?"
"I have AP chemistry next, why are you asking?"
Harriet winked at Frida and left along with Joan and JFK.
Frida nodded toward the box in Cleo's hands. "Don't you wanna eat?"
"Well, yeah, but I could probably do without the calories, anyway."
Frida inhaled sharply through her teeth. "Yikes, girl, I won't be having any of that. Follow me." She started walking towards the front of the cafeteria and into the main hall.
Cleo followed, but only because Frida happened to be going in the same direction she would have on a normal day.
"But if I miss class one more time, I could get after-school detention!"
"Not if you have a pass," Frida said, pulling a pen and slip of paper out of her pocket. She walked towards the wall, using the surface of someone's locker as a clipboard, and forged a perfect signature in the school nurse's handwriting. She turned back and handed it to Cleo. "Give this to your chemistry teacher, moan about a headache, and meet me outside by the picnic tables."
Cleo looked down the hall. Her least favorite substitute teacher turned from the corner, and headed right into the chemistry lab. That was enough to convince her. She smiled at Frida. "Thank you," she whispered, and followed the teacher into the classroom.
Frida beamed, and began walking briskly in the other direction, towards the nearest exit.