Chapter Text
The blank canvas stared back at Janis like a personal challenge.
She twirled the paintbrush between her fingers, the very one that never made it to the canvas. She shouldn’t be struggling with inspiration, in fact she had multiple ideas of what she could be painting, they just didn’t quite shine like she wanted to.
Junior year alone could fill a whole damn gallery. For starters, there was the fall of the Plastics, perfectly dramatic, theatrical, a golden reign torn to pieces. Or maybe Spring Fling, that bizarre fever dream where, somehow, everyone forgot about social hierarchies for a night.
That moment Cady broke the tiara into pieces, perhaps if she framed it with the right lighting… No, that wasn’t it.
Janis sighed as she tapped the brush on the palette. Maybe it was precisely the memories of that night that were messing with her head. Of course, it was… oddly fun. After Cady had her whole redemption arc speech, for once everyone at North Shore forgot about that stupid popularity prison and just had a good time.
But then there was Regina… high as balls. Completely out of it. But also vulnerable. Not a threat for probably the first time in her entire existence.
Janis didn’t know how she ended up babysitting her.
One second, she was having fun with her friends — watching Damian get way too excited with some random pop song that was totally overrated —, the next, she was watching Regina George struggle to take a sip from her cup, like it required advanced motor skills.
And maybe, just maybe, Janis pitied her for a split second. Unfortunately it was enough for her to roll her eyes, snatch the cup, and help it towards Regina’s lips before she could manage to spill it all over herself.
That was her first mistake. The second was not immediately getting up and leaving, because the next thing she knew, Regina’s arms were wrapping around her hips, pulling Janis towards her lap.
She would hate to admit it gave her a familiar, warm, anxious feeling in her chest. How it reminded her of how close they were in their childhood, or worse — how she missed it like a little kid.
And then the weirdest thing happened.
As Regina leaned on Janis’s arm, she whispered an apology under her breath, eyes blinking slowly with the effect of the painkillers in her system. It’s not like it counted anyways, Regina had also complimented Shane Oman’s “revolutionary” dance moves that looked like he was fighting off an invisible swarm of bees. She clearly wasn’t herself.
Though Janis always recognized Regina’s lies and manipulations and… that wasn’t it. Which was the weirdest part.
Nonetheless, it didn’t really matter, because after Spring Fling Regina disappeared. Well, she was hit by a bus — Karma apparently had a dark sense of humor —, so it made sense she wasn’t ready to go back to classes like nothing happened.
The last few months of junior year, she was barely there. When she did show up, she still wasn’t the same Regina George everyone knew. Some days, she was out of it, once again giggling at nothing, slowly blinking and talking nonsense, too high to even register what was happening around her. Other days, she was meaner than ever, snapping at anyone who so much as breathed in her direction.
But mostly, she was absent, either locked up in some doctor’s office or skipping class altogether. It didn’t matter when her family was rich enough to blackmail the school into passing Regina anyway.
That’s when things started to change. Spring Fling served as a reset for North Shore and without the queen bee, it wasn’t the same. The plastics were out of place, Gretchen and Karen looked lost sitting at that massive table by themselves, and then Cady — stubborn peacekeeper Cady — was on her whole “Let’s all be friends!” campaign. Of course she would start dragging Janis and Damian to sit with them.
At first, Janis resisted. Well, obviously. The whole thing felt wrong, like stepping onto enemy territory without a weapon. Her history with Regina and her minions wasn’t just stupid high school drama like Cady’s — it was personal. Cady still didn’t get that. But then she went on and on with “Just for today!”.
Janis had to be the worst sinner in her past lives, because eventually “just for today” turned into every day, until the Art Freaks and the former Plastics were blended into some Frankenstein’s monster of a friend group.
But Gretchen and Karen weren’t the same without their fearless leader, and without Regina's shadow constantly over them, it was… tolerable.
Damian fitted in annoyingly well. His love for fashion gave him an easy way in with them. And after a while, Janis started realizing Gretchen was fine as long as she wasn’t trying to pry into her life’s secrets instead of someone else’s. Karen on the other hand felt almost like a pet or a mascot — cute, but with no thoughts inside that head.
When Regina actually did show up to school, it was less bearable, but not as worse as it could be. It wasn’t frequent, and most of the time, she was too out of it to do much. The meds dulled her edges, kept her from being the force of nature she used to be. But she was still there, and that was enough to make Janis’s skin crawl.
But then summer break hit and she was gone. No mention of her, except for some passing updates from Gretchen or Karen. The queen of North Shore had vanished, and no one really seemed to care. Maybe the universe had finally taken care of the problem for her.
That would be if senior year started just as easy, but of course Janis wouldn’t be that lucky.
The first day back, Regina walked through the doors like she hadn’t spent the last few months broken and drugged out of her mind. No neck brace, no painkillers. Just sharp eyes, perfect posture, and a presence that sent a ripple through the school like a shark slipping back into the water.
And she was still sitting with them.
Nope. Hell no. Janis was not about to stress over Regina in her free time — again. She had better shit to do.
Yet all she did was exhale sharply, tapping her brush against the edge of her palette like that would somehow make an idea materialize.
It didn’t. The blank canvas stayed blank like it was mocking her, and the longer she stared at it, the more irritating it became.
Fuck this.
She dropped the brush into the murky water cup, stretching her arms over her head. Maybe she should just get some sleep for a change.
The next morning, Janis dragged her feet through the halls, doing her best to tune out the chatter of first week excitement. She wasn’t that thrilled about senior year, but it couldn’t be that bad either.
At least she had one thing to look forward to — art class. Her one safe place in this shithole of a school.
“God, I forgot how much I hate this place,” Damian muttered beside her, adjusting the strap of his bag.
Janis hummed in agreement. “Just remember, one more year and then we’re out of this hell. No more lunchroom dramas, no more P.E. class nightmares…”
“No more homophobic gym teachers…” Damian added.
“And no more math!” Janis cheered like that was the best thing to look forward. She could never understand Cady.
“So let it be written, so let it be done, sis.”
As they reached the art room, she exhaled, shoulders relaxing a little. At least this room still felt the same — smelled like paint and wood shavings, shelves stacked with sketchbooks, canvases leaning against the walls. Her space.
But as she stepped inside, she stopped at the sight of perfect blonde hair at a desk near the window.
“…Regina,” she said slowly, taking in the unusual out-of-place sight. “You’re here. I was wondering why all the birds had suddenly stopped singing.”
Damian chuckles beside her, but he seemed just as confused with Regina’s presence in the art room as her. She didn’t like art and she most definitely wasn’t good at it.
Regina turned her head, already rolling her eyes before Janis even finished talking. “Janis… Charming as always. I didn’t miss your terrible sense of humor,” she said unimpressed as she went back to ignoring her.
“No, really,” Janis said, stepping further inside, eyebrows raised. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you get lost on your way to the ‘Ruthless Dictators of the 21st Century’ class?” She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you didn’t like art.”
“I don’t.”
Janis rolled her eyes at the vague response. “Then…?”
Regina sighed, as if she was the one who had to explain something obvious. “I’m going into fashion. Colleges want a portfolio. I unfortunately need this.”
Janis arched an eyebrow, skeptical. “And you’re starting now? Senior year?”
Regina gave a slow, ironic smile. “Not everyone spends all their free time painting tragic self-portraits in their garage, Janis. Besides, I work well under pressure.”
Janis scoffed, dropping her bag onto the nearest desk. “Sure. Let’s see how long that lasts.”
She wasn’t buying it. Not because Regina wasn’t serious about fashion — Janis knew she was — but because she knew Regina. And Regina George didn’t sit through things she didn’t master. If she wasn’t good at something immediately, she cheated her way through it, or twisted things in her favor.
Janis shook her head and pulled out her art supplies. She didn’t have the energy to think about Regina’s life choices. If she wanted to embarrass herself trying to draw, that was her problem.
But if Janis was being honest, she had expected Regina to turn the art room into a battlefield, as if her presence alone was a threat. But as the class went on, she found herself more entertained than anything.
Regina sucked.
Like, genuinely, spectacularly sucked.
Which was almost funny, because she clearly understood some things. Regina knew color theory, had a decent sense of composition and aesthetic — probably from years of picking out perfect outfits and eyeshadow palettes —, but when it came to actually drawing, she had the skill level of a concussed toddler.
Janis glanced at her paper and bit back a laugh. Regina had drawn what might have once been an apple but now looked like a crime scene. She had seen kindergarteners with more control over a pencil, and had a better concept of shading when she was eight.
Regina’s jaw tightened every time she smudged it the wrong way and she pressed the pencil harder every time like she could physically force the lines to cooperate. It was kind of hilarious.
But then she would also press her lips together, flicking her hair out of her face and rolling her neck with a quiet sigh before leaning forward again, more determined than ever. And okay, maybe it was a little unfair that even frustration looked hot on her.
Not that it mattered.
“Daddy’s money can’t buy talent…” Janis muttered under her breath while looking at her own paper nonchalantly, just loud enough for Regina to hear.
Regina’s pencil paused. Then — without missing a beat — she smiled. Not a nice smile. A Regina George smile. Which was somehow worse than if she’d fought back.
“Let her be, Janis,” Damian cut in. Not that he had any sympathy for Regina — he just didn't want to get caught in the middle of another one of their catfights. “She already looks miserable anyway.”
But Janis couldn’t help herself. “You know, I’m sure someday you’ll go far…” She said in the blonde’s direction, making a dramatic pause for effect as she grinned. “And I really hope you stay there.”
Regina huffed a soft, almost amused sound. “Cute,” she said flatly. “Now why don’t you pay attention to your actual beloved art, instead of me?”
Janis held her stare a moment longer, pulse ticking up for no reason she wanted to acknowledge. Then she shrugged, flipping to a fresh page in her sketchbook.
“Gladly.” She wasn’t about to let Regina’s presence ruin her favorite class anyway. If anything, she would make the most out of this entertainment.
But it wasn’t just in art class.
It was everywhere.
She wasn’t sure when it had become a daily thing — when Janis and Regina had started making everyone else’s life miserable with their constant arguing.
She wasn’t going to lie. At first, it was fun. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing Regina’s short patience snap, about knowing exactly which buttons to press to make her crack. But at some point, it stopped being a game. It stopped being funny.
It turned into a habit.
Janis realized that as she sat down for lunch and cursed herself for making eye contact with Regina, already prepared for whatever bullshit she had to say today.
“God, Janis, your eyeliner is so thick I could see my reflection in it. Do you even have eyes under that?”
“Aw, are you mad I have an actual personality and not just a collection of my parents' credit card?”
Cady sighed as she intervened. “Regina… be nice. You too, Jan.”
The blonde scoffed. “Sure, do I get bonus friendship points if I act like I care?”
“You know, sometimes I can't help but imagine how much awesomer the world would be if your dad had just pulled out in time.” Janis cut in, Regina's expression turning into pure disgust.
“Do you ever shut up?”
“Oh, my bad, I forgot the ‘Queen Bitch’ demands silence while she eats.”
Damian looked like he was about to stab the fork in his eyes as he murmured, “I feel like I’m watching my parents fight, except somehow more toxic.”
By the end of the second week, it was obvious Cady's peacekeeping campaign wasn't working.
Monday had started with side comments. By Tuesday, the insults became direct. By Wednesday, Gretchen and Karen had learned to just keep talking over them, like parents ignoring their kids fighting in the backseat. By Thursday, Cady was dramatically putting a hand between them like that would stop Janis from saying something sassy or Regina from smirking in that way that made Janis’s blood pressure spike.
Janis wasn’t trying to make Cady’s life miserable. Really, she wasn’t.
But if she had to sit there and let Regina George make passive-aggressive comments every day without biting back, she might actually explode. So, really, she was doing everyone a favor. If she stayed quiet, she would combust, and that would be way messier than a few insults.
The whole thing was exhausting, and Janis had better things to waste her energy on.
Not that she was actually putting any energy into this stupid English assignment she had to do with Damian.
The sunlight shone through her garage door’s windows, illuminating dust in the air as Damian flipped through their assignment paper. He was sitting cross-legged on the couch, his notebook open on his lap, while Janis sat at her desk, the pencil between her fingers never stopping its movements on the paper.
“Okay, so if we bullshit our way through at least three paragraphs on symbolism, we should be good,” Damian said, glancing up at her. “I mean, who actually reads these essays?”
Janis didn’t respond, instead she scribbled on the corner of her notebook, filling the space with harsh overlapping lines that barely counted as a sketch.
“Hello? Earth to Janis?” Damian snapped his fingers. “Are you even listening?”
Janis blinked and looked up. “Huh?”
“I asked if you want to divide this up or just let me do all the work while you murder your notebook with the pencil,” he answered ironic, gesturing at her page.
Janis glanced down at her scribbles and exhaled as she dropped the pencil down, now fidgeting with her rings. “Sorry,” she said simply, but Damian arched a questioning eyebrow. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s a damn lie.”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Let's just focus back on the assignment.”
He set his notebook aside and rested his chin on his fist. “What’s up?”
Janis sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling for a second before — already knowing he wouldn’t drop it — muttering, “My parents asked me about college again today.”
Damian sat up straighter. “Oh no...”
“Yeah. The usual conversation,” she said bitterly. “They asked what I was planning and when I said art, we had a fun little debate about how that’s apparently a hobby and not a career. Because, you know, making money off art is just unheard of.”
Damian groaned. “Please tell me they’re not still on this.”
“Oh, they’re very on this.” Janis let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through her hair. “And then they hit me with the big one. ‘They didn’t save money for this’. So apparently, they're not giving up a nickel to help me pay for it.”
Damian frowned, caught off guard by the new information. “Wait, what?”
“They said if I wanted to go to college, I should pick a ‘real major’.” She made air quotes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But if I insist on wasting my life, then I can figure out how to pay for it myself.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Janis shrugged like she wasn’t affected, but she was still playing with her ring, spinning it around her finger like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
For a moment, Damian didn’t say anything. Then, he shifted closer. “Okay, so… this means you need a scholarship.”
“No shit.” She sounded harsher than intended.
“Well, good news,” he said, ignoring her reasonable bad mood and gesturing at the walls covered in her paintings and the sketchbooks stacked on the table. “You’re insanely good at what you do, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Janis scoffed. “Yeah, let’s just hope art schools think so too.”
“They will.” Damian leaned in. “Janis, you’re fucking amazing. You’re better than half the people I see getting into top programs. Your art actually means something. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”
Janis held his gaze for a second before looking away.
She wanted to believe him. She really did. But the doubt was heavy on her shoulders, the same doubt that always whispered that no matter how good she was, it wasn’t good enough.
She exhaled, rubbing her face. “It just feels like… if I screw this up, that’s it. No backup plan.”
Damian softened his voice. “Then you won’t screw it up.”
Janis let out a breath, shaking her head. “You’re annoyingly optimistic, you know that?”
“It’s my best quality. Besides of course, my natural beauty,” Damian said with a grin. Then he grabbed his notebook again, opening it dramatically. “Now, if we’re done going on existential spirals, let’s finish this boring assignment so you can go back to being a melancholic artist in peace.”
Janis gave him a small smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
And just like that, the rest of the week blurred into a cycle of assignments, lunchtime arguments, and whatever fresh hell Regina George decided to bring into her life that day.
Which was why Janis almost missed it when the art teacher called her name at the end of the class, dragging her attention away from cleaning her brushes.
“George, ‘Imi’ike. Stick around for a minute,” Mr. Park called out, leaning back slightly in his chair as the rest of the students packed up.
Janis groaned quietly. Regina, already halfway to the door, turned with a loud sigh as if this was an inconvenience specifically designed to ruin her day.
As the last few students stepped out, the middle-aged asian teacher rested his elbows on his desk as he looked between them. "I’m sure you both have an idea why I asked you to stay."
“Nope,” Janis said immediately.
“Not a clue,” Regina added, arms crossed.
“Right,” he sighed. “Let’s start with this. Regina, you’ve been staying after class to ask for extra help…”
Janis blinked, then snorted before she could stop herself.
Regina? Asking for help? The same Regina who thought she was naturally good at everything?
Regina shot her a glare. “Oh, shut up.”
“And you’re still this bad?” Janis added, still grinning.
“Bite me.”
“Girls,” Mr. Park said warning before they could escalate. “Regina, I appreciate the effort, but we both know it’s not enough. You’re struggling to keep up, and you need a strong portfolio if you’re serious about fashion design.”
Regina looked away huffing, legs crossing as Janis watched amused.
“And Janis,” The teacher continued, turning to her. “You’ve been coming to me for help with portfolio development, college applications, scholarship opportunities… Which brings me to my proposal.”
Janis didn’t like the sound of that.
“I want you to tutor Regina,” he said simply. “One-on-one, twice a week after school.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Hard pass.”
“She's not touching my work.”
“Not unless I want to set it on fire.”
“Huh, guess the Pyro-Lez title really suits you well.”
Mr. Park pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment like he was reconsidering his entire career. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Both the girls rolled their eyes at each other as he sighed.
“I’m sorry, but isn’t teaching essentially your job?” Janis asked.
“See, I'm one man with twenty-five students per class, and I’m not nearly paid enough to give anyone the personal tutoring experience that you—” he pointed at Janis “could provide.”
He sounded proud of Janis, but in this context she would rather not be his best student.
“Besides, I’m also suggesting this because the two of you have made a habit of disturbing my class with your constant arguing. I need you to learn how to work together, or at least in the same space for once. I think you'd both benefit from it.”
Regina scoffed. “And what do I get out of this, exactly?”
“A portfolio that doesn’t look like a third grader made it” Janis meddled in.
“I meant from him, idiot.”
“If you commit to this,” Mr. Park started, ignoring the unnecessary comments, “I’ll write each of you a strong letter of recommendation. And if you both participate in the art fair at the end of the semester, that letter gets even more flattering.”
That got Janis’s attention. Mr. Park’s recommendation could make a difference for her. And it wasn’t like she could afford to be picky — she needed every advantage she could get.
Regina, on the other hand, looked unimpressed. “And if I say no?”
The teacher shrugged. “Then you’ll have to figure it out on your own.” He gave her a pointed look. “And I don’t think you have time for that.”
Regina’s jaw clenched.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Mr. Park said, already turning to his laptop. “Let me know by the end of the day.”
And just like that they were dismissed.
“This is a joke. This has to be a joke,” Janis murmured as she shoved a book into her locker with more force than necessary.
It didn’t matter. Regina would never go for it.
Regina George wasn’t the type to admit she needed help — especially not from Janis. So, really, there was nothing to stress about.
Except Mr. Park was giving her a damn good offer on a silver platter. A glowing golden letter of recommendation. Something that could actually help her get into the art schools she was eyeing. And Janis needed all the credibility she could get. She could make a strong portfolio, but she still didn’t have enough of the academic prestige that most art schools loved. Tutoring could help build that credibility.
She slammed her locker shut, Damian and Cady catching up to her as they made their way towards the cafeteria. She had already texted their friend group about the newest problem — another damn Regina related problem for Janis’s luck.
It’s like she was haunting her goddamn life.
“It's really just tutoring, Jan,” Cady tried. “It’s not that bad.”
“No, Caddy,” Janis said, annoyed just at the thought. “It’s Regina George breathing down my neck and acting like she’s better than me while needing my help.”
Damian hummed, considering. “Okay, but hear me out. Maybe if you spend all your rage in the art room, I won’t have to sit between you two at lunch like I’m negotiating a ceasefire.” He paused, then added, “Or maybe she’ll kill you, and we can finally have some peace.”
“Please,” Janis scoffed. “You can’t live without me.”
“Sometimes, Janis? I really wish I could.”
Cady chuckled. “Damian’s right. I swear you guys argue like an old married couple. Well, one that probably should've gotten a divorce, but still…”
“We do not.”
Damian raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…”
Janis rolled her eyes as they reached the cafeteria doors, grabbing their trays and joining the lunch line.
“She’s insufferable,” Janis muttered, mostly to herself. “She’ll probably try to boss me around like I’m some employee of Regina George, Inc.”
Damian turned to her with a look of disbelief. “You’re seriously saying no? When this could help you get into your dream art school?”
Cady nodded. “It’s mostly just art. It’s your favorite thing ever, Jan. You don’t even have to like her to do it.”
That annoyed her. Mostly because they were making good points. But the thought of actually helping Regina? That made her want to throw her backpack across the room.
They shut down the subject as soon as they sat at the table with the Plastics.
Thankfully, Regina also seemed too frustrated to argue, a single apple on her lunch tray. Janis still knew what that one fruit by itself meant, but — after briefly catching her own gaze annoyingly softening at Regina — she told herself it wasn’t her problem.
And as they walked back to class after lunch, Janis and Damian trailed behind.
“So,” Damian started. “Are you actually gonna do it? Tutoring Regina?”
Janis exhaled sharply. “Damian, we’re talking about Regina. You know what she did to me. And you, of all people, are a witness to the fact that she hasn’t changed. She is still the same fake ass botoxed Barbie who won’t get off my dick at lunch.”
“To be fair,” Damian said, tone maddeningly neutral, “you’ve been just as insufferable.”
Janis shot him a glare. “Which side are you on?!”
“Yours!” He put his hands up in surrender. “But this isn’t about Regina, Jan. This is about college. You’ve gotta at least try to make this work. If it doesn’t, then fine. We go back to having lunch just the two of us as well.” His voice softened just slightly. “I can’t take being caught in your crossfire for the rest of senior year. But just try. For yourself. Not for me, or Cady, and definitely not for Regina.”
She didn’t respond, just huffed and shoved her hands into her pockets as they stepped into the crowded hallway. But even as they went to different classes, Damian’s words stayed with her.
Just try.
Like it was that simple.
If this were anyone else, it wouldn’t be a problem. If some random junior needed tutoring, she might even enjoy it. But instead she was stuck with the Regina-shaped headache she'd already had all week.
Middle school felt like a lifetime ago, but some things never faded.
She still remembered how Regina had looked at her when she came out. Like it mattered. Like she mattered. Janis had been stupid enough to think that meant something. That Regina understood. That she cared.
And then she had ripped it all away.
She had never trusted anyone the way she trusted Regina. And Regina had made her regret it.
The betrayal burned more than anything. The humiliation, the rumors, the aftermath — it was all bad. But the worst part? The part Janis really couldn’t stomach?
She still remembered what it felt like before.
Before the party. Before the rumors. Before Regina became someone else entirely. Back when it was them against the world. Back when they had secrets and inside jokes and… a place that was theirs.
She hated that she still remembered. She hated that it still hurt.
And she still missed it even when she hated it.
And now, after all these years, she was supposed to help Regina? That was the girl she was supposed to sit across twice a week, acting like she was just another student?
She wasn’t going to do it. She couldn’t do it.
And yet, Damian’s voice was still there at the back of her mind.
This isn’t about Regina. This is about college.
God, she hated when he was right.
And besides, the truth was that she couldn't give Regina the satisfaction of knowing she still gets to her. If she walked away from this opportunity, she would be letting Regina, of all people, be the reason she doesn’t take a step towards her future.
No. Screw that. Regina had taken enough from her. She’s not taking this too.
By the time the last bell rang, Janis had made up her mind. She walked through the halls heading to the art room, the familiar path a second nature by now.
When she got there, Mr. Park was at his desk, going through a pile of sketches looking like he was personally offended by them.
Janis leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “So… Spill it. You’re really pushing this tutoring thing, huh? Why?”
He didn’t even look up, responding casually and ironic, way too used to Janis presence. “Because I’m underpaid, overworked, and I have this old student who keeps thinking I’m like her friend or something and I’m really trying to get rid of her.”
She snorted, stepping inside and leaning back on one of the desks. “I just don’t get why you care so much.”
He looked at her as he put the poorly made sketches aside. “You and Regina have been practically taking turns ambushing me after class to ask for help. And unlike you, she needs a lot of it.”
Janis barked out a laugh. “It’s not my fault she’s ridiculously bad at this.”
“She’s starting now, she’s not that bad, she just…” he said, then winced. “Okay, no, she is that bad. But she’s trying.”
Janis rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I’m supposed to give her a gold star for effort.”
“No, I make it sound like you’re supposed to be the bigger person and help.” He sighed. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two to make you this allergic to each other, like you’re sworn enemies or something, but you’re both seniors. You should be able to figure this out like adults.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, because adults always handle their problems so well.”
“Fair point.” He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “But I really don’t care how you figure it out, kid, just do it. Besides, I need more students for the art fair this year. If Regina actually learns how to paint something usable and you’re not too busy throwing death glares at her, you could both contribute. Maybe we can even make it into something halfway decent.”
She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Great,” he said, exhaling like it was some huge relief.
“But I’m not promising Regina will go with it,” she added quickly. “Her ego is massive and she never really admits when she needs help from—”
“She already said yes.” He smirked.
Janis froze. “What?”
“She came by between classes earlier,” he said casually. “She agreed to it like the words tasted bitterly — the same way you just did. Maybe you two are more alike than you would like to admit.”
For a moment, all Janis could do was stare.
Regina agreed? Even before she did? What the actual fuck was happening?
“Now, when you’re done spiralling with whatever it is you seem to be questioning…” he started with a knowing smirk. “I can start guiding you into the tutoring role properly.”
Janis rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Fine, maybe she was spiraling a little.
Maybe she had been spiraling since the second Regina’s name got into this equation.
But that was another problem for another moment. For now, she had a tutoring plan to figure out.
The afternoon before the first tutoring session, Janis sat cross-legged on the floor of her garage, surrounded by plastic boxes of old sketchbooks and loose sheets of paper. She flipped through her old sketches trying to find something useful.
She needed structure. Not because she actually cared about being a good tutor, but because the sooner Regina picked up the basics, the sooner Janis could be done with this nightmare.
Mr. Park had mentioned starting with fundamentals — lines, shapes, shading —, so she went through her old art studies, flipping past years of practice sketches, childish figure studies… Maybe that's the way she should go with Regina, crayons and all.
But instead of something actually helpful, she froze as she found something rather familiar.
A crumpled page from a forgotten sketchbook, the faded paper yellowed from years of being shoved in a storage box. A drawing she did way back.
On it, her younger self, drawn standing tall in silver armor, a ridiculous sword held in her tiny hands. Next to her, a princess in a pink gown, golden hair curling over her shoulders, a tiara on the top of her head.
Regina.
Behind them stood a castle surrounded by trees, crooked towers drawn in shaky pencil lines and ivy climbing the stone. The kind only two kids with too much imagination could’ve seen in a pile of old stones.
She still remembered drawing this. Regina glued to her shoulder, bossing her around excitedly. “Make the skirt fluffier, make the crown prettier, can you draw little jewels on it?”
She remembered the way Regina had gasped with a wide smile when she saw the final version, hugging Janis like it was the greatest thing she had ever seen.
Janis let out a heavy sigh, flipping the page over like that would erase it from her mind.
It was stupid. Just some dumb drawing. But the sight of it brought her back into memories she had spent years not thinking about — muddy shoes, whispered secrets and Regina’s hand wrapped around hers as they ran up hill, breathless with laughter.
Her stomach twisted. This is not where her head needed to be.
Tomorrow this stupid tutoring thing would start. And if Regina thought for one second that this was going to go her way, that Janis was going to make this easy for her…
Well, she couldn’t wait to disappoint her.