SHUT UP, THIS IS TOTALLY ART (Victoria)

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

Chocolate paint? Keep that in mind? And this kid thought she was crazy. She gave him a strange look and asked, “Why? It’s rather pointless. Like lipgloss that smells like strawberries. Who wants to smell lips?” The person could easily just wear perfume and it would last longer. Do they even have strawberry perfume. Oh God, why was she thinking about this. The crazy was rubbing off.

“Uh. Si? Senor? Ita?”

Then something terrible escaped from her lips. A giggle. Not a snicker or a chuckle. One of those giggles that girls covered in pink and sparkle made. It was a horrid sound that Victoria hated making. People always said it was “cute”. Victoria did not want to be cute. Such a thought made her crinkle her nose. She quickly tried to cover it up by saying, “That was Russian. I just said, ‘Yes, I am Russian.” She smiled at him genuinely and then caught herself. What was she doing? He was a guy!

Well, barely. He didn’t seem that bad. Victoria might actually like him a little. He was a goof it seemed and meant no harm. He was almost more dramatic than Victoria which was a feat she’d admit. He, even with with paint in his hair and the most pathetic look on his face, was good-looking. Okay, why did she just think that? She really needed to just stop. Being nice is one thing but actually LIKING this kid was a different story.

”Your apology is not accepted until literally all of the paint is gone from my hair.”

Victoria scoffed. That was ridiculous. It would take forever. She might as well just skip. Maybe an angry call from her dad was better than no call at all.

”You wouldn’t happen to have shampoo with you? Or like, Idunno, something…cleaning…y? Would you? No?”

“Shampoo? Yes, I’m a CVS,” Victoria grumbled. “Why not just skip and go take a shower in your dorm. If a teacher asks I’ll just say you’re at the nurse.” She didn’t like lying to teachers but she also didn’t like being stuck in the guys bathroom with a teenage boy. It seemed too suspicious for her tastes. Really? What if someone walked in? She really didn’t care as long as that someone wasn’t a teacher. A detention would look terrible on her record.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Okay, so this was not working out. Literally every time he thought his hair was completely sans paint, he would glance in the mirror and LOLNOPE. Okay, seriously? Seriously? This was paint. When he and Thursday had had squirt gun fights back home, their mom had always yelled at them for getting water on the wall, because the water would wash off the paint. So why did that logic not apply to his hair? Seriously, God? Or person-who-decided-whether-or-not-paint-comes-off-things? If Tuesday wasn’t too totally cool for swearing, this was definitely when he would have screamed a swear really loudly at literally everything in sight.

Sighing, he ducked beneath the sink again and tried to think about nice, happy things. Nice, cute kittens. Cute kittens. Nope. Wasn’t working. He clenched his fists beneath the water, feeling his frustration build.

“Why? It’s rather pointless. Like lipgloss that smells like strawberries. Who wants to smell lips?”

”Uh, the people at Victoria’s Secret do, apparently.” He totally wasn’t in the mood right now to debate like, cosmetics and stuff with some girl. ”Or guys who date them. Or I don’t know, uh…” He thought for a minute. ”Strawberry farmers?” he finished lamely.

Strawberry farmers. Freakin’ strawberry farmers. Really, Tuesday? What is your issue?

“That was Russian. I just said, ‘Yes, I am Russian.”

”Hm. Okay.” That totally wasn’t how Tuesday had imagined Russian sounding at all. Though he wasn’t really sure how he’d ever imagined Russian sounding. He’d probably just imagined like, the Nutcracker, because that was by a Russian guy, right? Or something. He really had no idea. He had no idea about like, any languages, really. ”And uh, how would you say ‘Tuesday has been washing his hair for like thirty seven years now and he still has shit all over his head?’” He wondered vaguely if his name translated to Russian. Wait, how would that even work? Like, if he went to Spain, would they call him “Martes?” Like, that was actually a pretty awesome name in its own right but…still. Hm.

“Shampoo? Yes, I’m a CVS,” Victoria grumbled. “Why not just skip and go take a shower in your dorm. If a teacher asks I’ll just say you’re at the nurse.”

”I’m totally not walking all around campus with blue hair, yo.” God, why was everyone in the world so stupid? Well, that was probably an unfair generalization or whatever his history teachers always gave him Fs on his paper for, but still. ”It’s just…this…one…section…” His words were drowned out as his teeth clenched together, his fingers scrubbing like they were students at the finger version of West Point doing warm-up drills.

Finally, when he felt like his hands were going to crumble into ashes, he stopped, letting his head sag against the sink. He felt his head reeling with the same frustration he'd felt when he'd been trying to talk to his brother that one day at the mall, and all that had come out was horrible, ignorant, homicidal shit. He shook his head and swallowed a painful lump in his throat, knowing that he had absolutely no idea what to do, but whatever it was, it wasn't this anymore.

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

”Uh, the people at Victoria’s Secret do, apparently.” He totally wasn’t in the mood right now to debate like, cosmetics and stuff with some girl. ”Or guys who date them. Or I don’t know, uh…” He thought for a minute. ”Strawberry farmers?” he finished lamely.

Victoria tilted her head. “Really? We’re going to bring an underwear store with my name into this conversation?” She luckily was too busy hating her father for naming her to laugh about the strawberry farmer comment. Her father wanted her to be a working woman yet he names her after a store that convinces boys that girls prancing around in frilly underwear and modeling is sexy. She wondered whether he was oblivious or just insane. Speaking of insanity... the boy was still washing the paint out of his hair, with only water thinking it would come out. What was Einstein’s theory of insanity again? Victoria sighed and gave up hope of ever getting to class. She could skip her IB Calc class for a day. She’d already read the entire book out of boredom and insomnia.

”And uh, how would you say ‘Tuesday has been washing his hair for like thirty seven years now and he still has shit all over his head?’”

“Vo vtorniknytʹ malʹchika , kotoryĭ dolzhen zatknutʹsya,” Victoria muttered. She looked out the door and frowned at the empty hall way. She couldn’t escape without him following her like a bumbling idiot.

”I’m totally not walking all around campus with blue hair, yo.”

“Yo, there’s no one out there!” she snapped. Why did he care what people thought? He was the one that dress like a woman and still called himself a man. She watched him struggle and felt herself getting ready to burst from frustration. Then she saw him shake his head. And begged that he wouldn’t start crying or something. That’s one thing that Victoria couldn’t handle was crying. Once the tears started falling, Victoria ran. This time she couldn’t run though. She knew exactly what to do but really didn’t want to. She would have to be more than kind to Tuesday; she’d have to sympathize. He needed someone to talk to and for some reason he wasn’t talking to his friends. She could easily see this had nothing to do with his hair.

Victoria unzipped her hoodie and placed it around his shoulders carefully. She didn’t want him having a panic attack think she was trying to slit his throat. “I don’t know what happened between you and your brother; All I know is what is going around. You don’t have to tell me but you need to talk to someone. I’m willing to be your vent box... if we can get the hell out of here before a teacher finds us and assumes we’re doing something ...indecent,” she said softly. She took a deep breath and gently wrapped her hand around his wrist and lead him out the door.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

God almighty, well wasn’t this just the peachiest day ever? Tuesday was about as happy today as he’d been on that one day they’d cancelled his SAT scores because they’d found his computing contraption that solved all of the math problems hidden under his desk. In fairness, it did have a QWERTY keyboard, which was…okay, teeeechnically illegal. But hey, it had been a really really good idea. Like, probably one of Tuesday’s best ideas ever that didn’t involve spray paint of any sort. They should have at least like, acknowledged that. But yeah, anyway. This was not a good day either.

“Really? We’re going to bring an underwear store with my name into this conversation?”

”Wait, your name’s ‘Secret’? I could’ve sworn…” Oh, wait. Right. ”Wait, never mind. That didn’t happen.” I’m not this dumb all the time, I swear I swear I swear. Tuesday wondered if there would ever be a situation that he didn’t fuck up. That’d probably like, make the nightly news, and then he’d probably be interviewed by that blonde chick who got made fun of in the Sarah Palin SNL skit with Tina Fey talking about Russians…what was her name? Katie. Katie something.

“Vo vtorniknytʹ malʹchika , kotoryĭ dolzhen zatknutʹsya.”

That could’ve been Klingon for all that Tuesday knew. ”Uh…vo vtornishon…uh…never mind.” Man, Russian was a confusing language. Why would anyone want to speak Russian?

“Yo, there’s no one out there!”

”Okay, yeah, not out in the hallway, maybe,” Tuesday snapped back. ”But what are the chances of there like, actually being no one between here and my dorm? I guess if this was like, that ghost town from Rango or whatever, but…no. Just…no.” He turned back to the sink and began to scrub some more.

“I don’t know what happened between you and your brother; All I know is what is going around. You don’t have to tell me but you need to talk to someone. I’m willing to be your vent box... if we can get the hell out of here before a teacher finds us and assumes we’re doing something ...indecent.”

Tuesday raised his head. ”Look…“ he began, but she had already commandeered his wrist and was steering him out the door. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God, here we go. This was so bad. There were still streaks of blue in his hair, and people out there were going to see him and think he was like some weird, creepy hipster from Williamsburg, and he’d never even been to Williamsburg, and also, just…ugh, this was just so embarrassing. Tuesday never even left his dorm without straightening his hair, and now he was walking out, into public, with blue streaks. He really should have listened to Thursday and stayed home today.

As they began to walk down the hall, something she’d said registered in his mind. ”Wait a second. Stuff’s going around? Like, wait, people are…what?”

Whoa, man. If people were talking and spreading rumors about his brother, that just was not okay. Way not okay. Like, beyond even the most nonsensical boundaries of not okay. Stupid hair troubles tossed to the wayside, Tuesday pulled Victoria over to a corner and stared straight down into her eyes. ”Okay, wait. Tell me what you’ve heard.” His voice had lost its usual casual, scatterbrained, give-no-shits cadence. This was Thursday they were talking about now. ”Everything that you’ve heard.”

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

Victoria really had to take deep breaths while talking to this guy. Whether intentional or not he was really starting to make laugh. Not like a scoff or something. This dude was hilarious. If she wasn’t raised to be a controlled person... unless of course the person offends you... anyway she felt like laughing her head off. She wondered how he could be so humorous in probably like the worst time of his life. Victoria didn’t understand how people could make jokes in their darkest hour. She couldn’t. It was a true sign that she was depressed when her sense of humor just shuts off.

Navigating the hallways she nearly got out into the street before the idiot pulled her nearly into a wall and gave her a look that instantly made her oxygen cut off. She didn’t know whether to be scared or annoyed by his intense stare.

”Okay, wait. Tell me what you’ve heard. Everything that you’ve heard.”

Blinking like a deer in the headlights she suddenly forgot everything she ever knew. This was so stupid he probably weighed less than her. She couldn’t look away though.

“I..um... well...” She stuttered finally internally cursing her self for the long awkward silence. When did she not know what to say... ever? She side stepped out of his reach and then started talking while looking at her shoes.

“I don’t like really know you guys but I guess I don’t like hearing when my classmates are in the hospital. Normally I don’t listen to gossip but people were talking about how he was like super down the few weeks before he ended up there. People were guessing cancer or something crazy. I just figured he got hurt. Then there was a news thing about an attempted suicide. Yes, I read and watch the news unlike ninety percent of our school. So I made my own inductive theory... guess I mean.” She didn’t like admitting she actually cared for people around this prison of a school but she figured he wouldn’t judge. She moved a step farther away from him realizing she still was kinda up tight.

How did this happen? Wasn’t he the one scared of her at first? Well, she wasn’t scared of him really... Tuesday just made her nervous... or something. On edge? Seriously though, she liked her personal space. No matter what the circumstances.

“Sorry I brought it up,” she muttered realizing she probably wasn’t helping. He probably had enough nightmares of his own. Twins were like connected weren’t they? That was more of a conspiracy. He did seem generally bugged by something other than the paint. She could be wrong though. Most likely not. Who freaks out that much over some dumb paint? She sighed heavily and leaned against the wall. “I didn’t tell anyone. I promise. Spreading rumors is against my morals.”

notes;; I made a bunch of guesses on the whole thing... tell me if I'm wrong. lol

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Rumors. Rumors.

The word kept flying through his head like that bird that had gotten into the gym the other day and had been flitting all around the rafters and nobody in gym class had been able to pay attention to gym class stuff because of that stupid little bird. God, his brain was already making stories. Why was it making stories? Okay, if I were those kids, what would I think? Probably not the truth, right? Tuesday himself had never even predicted the truth until it happened. If he had, he probably could have prevented it. Right?

So what? Did they think he’d just dropped out of school? Or like, run away or something? Oh God, did they think he was dead? Did they actually think that? Oh God, what if this was like that one episode of House where everyone thought this one guy in the morgue was dead but then he was actually alive? That had been a really scary episode.

“I don’t like really know you guys but I guess I don’t like hearing when my classmates are in the hospital. Normally I don’t listen to gossip but people were talking about how he was like super down the few weeks before he ended up there. People were guessing cancer or something crazy. I just figured he got hurt. Then there was a news thing about an attempted suicide. Yes, I read and watch the news unlike ninety percent of our school. So I made my own inductive theory... guess I mean.”

Tuesday felt his brain being bombarded with millions of things at once. Hospital. They knew Thursday had been in the hospital. Super down. Oh God, people had noticed that? Shit, shit, did they know it had been because of…well, Tuesday? Did they all think he was an asshole now? Oh God, was this going to be like Mean Girls? God, he hated that movie. The girl with the blonde hair was just so annoying. Cancer. Wait…cancer? Wait, cancer, what? Cancer…oh God, Thursday with cancer, that would be terrible, but…wait, cancer? Really? Cancer was so scary.

Then something struck him violently. He was on the news?

Tuesday felt weak at the knees, and shoved a hand against the wall to steady himself. Well, obviously it was on the news, you dumbfuck. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Obviously any suicide attempt was going to be on the news, particularly one that happened on the freaking Brooklyn Bridge. Oh God, oh Jesus, everyone probably knew then, not only Baum kids but like, everyone in New York. Rudy Giulliani probably knew, and whatever the current mayor’s name was. Oh God, Thursday was probably famous, wasn’t he? Famous for being a screwed-up mess.

Oh shit. This wasn’t just about him, was it?

”I mean…my brother and I…” Tuesday sighed. ”We were going through a…well, kind of a hard time, a few weeks ago. Thursday…”

He felt the tears pressing against the backs of his eyes again. He knew he was going to cry if he talked about this. And if there was one place he was absolutely not going to cry, it was here, in this stupid school. ”Let’s go outside,” he said quietly, and began to walk towards the door again.

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

Victoria had to look away from Tuesday as her words processed in his mind. His eyes pretty much said everything. He was upset, nervous, scared and worst of all, on the verge of tears. That familiar glint in his eye just made Victoria want to run. She hate, hate, HATED crying. Even if it wasn’t her or even caused by her, she couldn’t look a crying person in the eye.
”Let’s go outside,”

“Okay,” she said with a solemn look. As much as she wanted to turn the other way and run, there was something about this kid that made her follow him out the door. She couldn’t really explain it. Without thinking any deeper, she chalked it up to human curiosity and her own damn tendency to care way too much.

They sat down on a bench outside the school and Victoria wondered if what he was feeling was anything close to her own personal misery that she sometimes endured. At least his brother wasn’t dead; at least he had a second chance. At least-- Okay, she needed to take a deep breath. Victoria was not going to cry not here not ever. Especially not in front of a boy she just met really.

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” she said into the silence. She was certain he was crying, but she couldn’t look. “I mean, if that’s what you think. It’s just like a chemical imbalance or something.” Depression wasn’t anyone’s fault. That’s what some of her friends would tell her when she wondered why her dad never called or asked her to stay over. She also wondered if her mother survived, would he be better than he was today? Losing his daughter instead of his wife? Was Victoria really worth that much to him?

All of the things that she probably shouldn’t be thinking about now, in front of Tuesday. This is what crying did to her. This is why she hated it.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Tuesday dragged his feet along the ground as he led the girl outside towards a bench overlooking the river. Wow. Even his own body was fighting against the urge to do this. Tuesday Davenport didn’t open up to people who weren’t his brother, particularly girls who threw paint on him. His brain was telling him this was okay, but his muscles disagreed. Was one of them like, common sense? Was this a like, angel/devil thing?

He slid onto the bench, moving to the far end so that she could sit beside him. ”I bet art class is gonna be over soon,” he muttered, grinning almost sheepishly. Students walked around him, noses buried in books or calculators, hurrying between classes or dorms or dining halls or whatever it was they were all doing, and as the world rushed past his eyes, he tried to gather his thoughts.

His voice was quiet, and he couldn’t look at her as he spoke, his words coming to him slowly, like reluctant little kids out of a kindergarten classroom or something. ”Basically, I…thought it was time for us to be more independent.” He felt a sour laugh escape his lips. ”Us.” He shook his head, still staring intently at the ground. ”Meaning me, obviously. But him by extension, I guess. Anyways.” He could feel himself trying to stall. But no, he’d been a bit of a dick to this girl. She deserved to know why. As well as he could explain it, at least.

”So I just…tried it. I like…started doing my own thing more. Hanging out with my friends from school more, and with him less. We got into a few fights, you know, I snapped at him, I…” He felt a tear on his cheek, but he managed to keep his voice steady. He was doing the right thing, he promised himself. He couldn’t keep all this shit bottled up inside him forever. ”Well, I guess he wasn’t on board with it. Because, you know. That whole thing happened.” He shrugged, as if the nonchalant gesture was going to fool anyone into thinking he was over it.

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” she said into the silence. She was certain he was crying, but she couldn’t look. “I mean, if that’s what you think. It’s just like a chemical imbalance or something.”

”I guess.” Words had never been spoken with less conviction. ”But I just can’t help feeling like…they wouldn’t have been imbalanced, if it weren’t for me being such…such an asshole to him. I mean…” He felt his voice rising in volume and tried, without much success, to keep it as low as it had been. ”He got really hurt, you know? He broke bones, and there was blood, and…he could have died, you know? I could have…I could have killed him.”

He’d been absolutely sure that saying it would make him feel better. But it didn’t, somehow.

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

Victoria looked around and realized something. She was missing class. If the school called her father, he’d be furious.

”I bet art class is gonna be over soon,”

Victoria nodded. “Yeah but I have Math next so I don’t mind missing it,” she said with a laugh. Let her father be furious. That’s what he got for never answering her phone calls and practically leaving her to fend for her own. Of course, she could fend for herself. She was independent. Maybe if her dad even cared, she’d tell him the truth. She was helping a fr-- troubled acquaintance. That sounded better than basically giving him the finger.

Victoria waited patiently (for once) and let him speak. Listening intently, she frowned. He couldn’t blame himself. That would just cause unneeded torture. “Listen,” she said firmly. She put her hand over top of his as a kind gesture, not really think much of it. “You didn’t push him off that bridge. People can control their own emotions and how others actions effect them. I mean... I’m alone but you don’t see me doing rash--” Victoria paused looking at Tuesday’s hair, “Well, that was just my temper... Anyway! You can’t blame yourself. You wouldn’t have killed him and even better, he’s alive. Here’s what I think, you need to quit moping and start patching things up with him. You guys were a duo for a reason. I imagine the twin thing is probably annoying as hell but you also can’t take him for granted.” She stopped and took a breath. “Though... you probably know this already. At least I hope you do.”

She looked up at him, making herself brave seeing him teary-eyed. There was something different about those mischievous brown eyes since the last time she saw them. Maybe the difference was the way they were effecting her. She couldn’t look away.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Tuesday kicked his right heel against the ground, staring out at the lawn and trying not to think. He couldn’t let his mind wander, because for the past week or so, every time it had wandered, it had wandered to the same spot, on the bridge, with the water rushing below him and the blood pounding in his head.

“You didn’t push him off that bridge. People can control their own emotions and how others actions effect them. I mean... I’m alone but you don’t see me doing rash--”

Her words should have anchored him, but instead he could feel them pushing him forward into the stupid Brooklyn Bridge abyss into which his life had become a perpetual battle not to fall. They rang like a distant bell through his head. ”But if…” He could barely bring himself to say the words out loud. ”If people can control their emotions, then why the f…f…” He managed not to spit out the word he was thinking. ”Why the frick can’t I stop feeling so shitty about this thing? Why can’t I stop crying at night? Why can’t I…” He cut himself off. Victoria didn’t need to hear his pathetic little whining.

“Well, that was just my temper... Anyway! You can’t blame yourself. You wouldn’t have killed him and even better, he’s alive. Here’s what I think, you need to quit moping and start patching things up with him. You guys were a duo for a reason. I imagine the twin thing is probably annoying as hell but you also can’t take him for granted.”

Tuesday cocked his head in puzzlement, trying to make head or tail of what she’d just said. ”What, the twin thing? Oh no, that’s not…that’s not annoying at all. It’s…it’s great, actually. I mean, I guess it can be kind of…weird, I guess, when like, someone calls you a name that’s not your name, or some teacher asks why you didn’t turn in your English paper and you aren’t even in his class, but I mean, having someone to talk to every day, no matter what, that’s…nice.” He shrugged in his usual lame way. ”But…yeah. I see what you mean. Okay. I'll try.” He nodded, not sure if he understood even now, but pretending he did. Glancing at his watch, he clambered slowly to his feet. ”We should probably get back now, huh? It’s getting late.”

notes: they should ahve another thread soon plz thx

[VICTORIA ROMENZ]

”Why the frick can’t I stop feeling so shitty about this thing? Why can’t I stop crying at night? Why can’t I…”
That hit home for Victoria way more than she’d like. Her face turned into what the iconic internet called a “poker face”. Though Victoria found it more as a defense mechanism. Empathy was not her strong point and sympathy was even more of a chore. She honestly got to the point where she didn’t give two shits about anyone or anything. That’s how she stopped the annoying thoughts asking why she survived. Who gave a shit if her dad was depressed because he lost his wife? He should learn to get over it. Victoria had lost her mom too. Okay, she wasn’t heartless, but she was working on it.

“You can. It just, uh, takes a while. It’s not immediate and it probably would help if you talked to like a friend about it. Don’t you have any friends?” she asked. The kid was supposedly well liked around school. Definitely more than her. Not that Victoria really cared. School wasn’t a popularity contest. It was about getting an education and getting the hell out.

“...but I mean, having someone to talk to every day, no matter what, that’s…nice.”

“I guess it would be...,” she said running a hand through her hair. She could tell he was beyond confused by her. Victoria was terrible at anything feelings related. Why was she trying to give this dude advice? Why the heck did she care? “Yeah, we should. I, uh, mean. I’ll go to math then I guess. And you’ll go... where ever...” Ah hell, this was getting awkward. She stood up next to him and shuffled her feet. She kind of like, wanted to say something more. Maybe, it gets better or you’ll be okay but... who was she to know? Life sucked. That’s a fact. He just needed to fight through it. Be a man.

“So... bye...” she said softly before turning to go. Everything about leaving him felt wrong. He was obviously still upset. Then Victoria reminded herself, she shouldn’t care. She didn’t care. Not at alll.