genevieve and the band of misfits

four ➳ one can only crutch so much

There are tons of unspoken rules that float around the dead-brained minds of the students at this rather dreadful school.

Most of them are quite useless (for example, that one rule about how your position in the lunch line is dictated by your social standing), but some are actually pretty intelligible – which continues to baffle me. Somehow, every student is made known of them through their peers, regardless of social prestige.

And, during the course of my high school career, I've never – ever – had to refer to this rule book.

That is, until now.

Ming, Pip and I had waited in the old music room, flipping through pages of my old notebook. Since anything relating to school mysteriously erases itself from my memory, I'd written every single rule down in case they'd ever come in handy.

"What exactly are you trying to prove?" Ming asked, sitting in the front row, playing some game on her phone.

"Don't you find it a bit strange?" I proposed. "I mean, a footballer – who, might I add, is part of the social group that never even looks at us unless we'll probably be the victims of their next violent physical attack – was at our club's first meeting, as if he actually wanted to join?"

"Maybe he's turning over a new leaf?" She suggested, shrugging, still intensely focused on her screen.

"Or setting fire to an old one." I muttered. My notebook, unfortunately, had also been where I'd scribbled cute hearts with the words 'genevieve + zac efron forever', along with our extremely cute ship names (zacevieve and genefron).

"Gen could be right," Pip pointed out, sitting with her legs crossed. "Did you see the way that Tate tool looked at Ethan?"

"Yeah," I replied, "something is definitely going on there, and we need to find out what that is."

I paused, finally finding the few pages covered in these unspoken rules.

"Why don't we just ask?" Ming inquired. "Ethan's our friend, and it's not like Tate's going to organize some sort of impromptu beat down on Ethan, right?"

With a slight nod, I stood up, planting myself on the floor between each of them.

"Could you talk to him?" I asked, facing Ming. "He seems a lot more comfortable around you, which is a good thing."

"It's because you're intimidating as fuck, Gen." Pip chuckled. "If I hadn't been the way I am, I'd probably avoid you at all costs."

Smiling, I cleared my throat, preparing to read the rule that applied most to our current situation.

"Rule 4," I boomed, "Ins and Outs simply don't mix. Outs are always trying to become Ins, but an In will never, under any circumstance, try to ruin their social status. In the event of an In fraternising with an Out (or a group of Outs), one should always be under the impression that ulterior motives are at work."

Sighing, I glanced up at both of them, only to see their faces scrunched into bundles of thought. Ming slid her phone into her pocket, then pulled a strand of hair away from her eye.

"Do you really believe that, though?" she asked. "He could actually be trying to make amends, and maybe being part of what we're doing is how he's starting."

"Your optimism amuses me," Pip grunted, rolling her eyes. "People don't do things unless they care, so what could possibly mean so much to this Tate boy that he'd actually put in the effort to be here?"

Silence settled in the room, managing to overwhelm all three of us. What did he care about? Or, more likely, who?

"Talking to Ethan about this would be best." Ming reiterated it. "And maybe you and Gen could talk to Tate?"