Gaslighter

19

          "He's my advisor," I eventually said. "It's his job to check—"

          "He's your senior project advisor, not your therapist."

          "So? He's still my professor. His course is the only one I'm not borderline failing. This is the one thing in my life I haven't completely screwed up, so I need to keep things that way." She scoffed, like I knew she would, but I also knew I wouldn't win her over by explicitly asking for pity. Her pity came in the form of condescension, in her own terms. "You know these professors all know my parents. They're friends with them. I can't afford this getting back to them—"

          "Frankly, Penny, everyone in this place is friends with someone's parents. Half of Hollywood is friends with your parents. I'm sure your future was guaranteed the minute you first walked through these doors."

          I groaned, fingers digging into my hair to brush it away from my face. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—unkempt, chaotic, losing control—and realized I was becoming everything I'd sworn I'd never be. I needed my rules, I needed to be in control of myself, and she was ruining everything.

          "You don't get it, do you? It's never been about what my parents can do; it's about what I can do without their input. I want to do this for me, without them watching my every move, and I can't do that if I start failing every single one of my classes." I set a hand on the edge of the sink next to me for support, a gesture she noticed, like she knew I was crumbling. A conversation that had initially been about Savannah had taken a dark turn I wasn't fond of. "You don't get it, and you don't even want to make an effort to understand. Everything is a competition to you, even in battles you know you can't lose. You just like the feeling of being better than everyone else." She clenched her jaw. "It was a competition between you and Savannah from the start, but then you two made up and had to find the next best target. The whole frat party fiasco went down, and you still made it all about this stupid feud you had with her instead of acknowledging you had made a mistake, too. You don't know what it is about Steele, and I don't know what it is about me that makes you so angry. Was it because I stopped letting you walk all over me? Was it because I grew a backbone instead of closing my eyes and pretending not to understand whenever you made a not-so-hidden jab at me?"

         "Are you seriously listening to yourself right now? Do you realize just how delusional that sounds?"

          "That's exactly what I mean! Nothing I do is ever good enough for either of you. Nothing I feel is valid enough. Where does that leave me, huh? My two roommates constantly talk about me behind my back—"

          "No, we don't—"

          "—and keep trying to find hidden meanings in everything. Sometimes people are just upset. Sometimes people just don't want to talk. Sometimes people just want to have some privacy, but you won't even let me have that because you went and ran your mouth to Marco—"

          "I was trying to help—"

          "Well, then stop trying." I bent down to pick up my bag, mentally exhausted from arguing with a person who would never, ever admit to being wrong, and brushed away the hand she reached out towards me. "You can't treat me this way."

          "Penny—"

          "Oh, my God. Stop calling me that. Stop. I've asked you so many times."

          "It's just a nickname."

          "A nickname I've said time and time again makes me uncomfortable. It feels condescending. Of course you, out of all people, would fail to see that. What a great friend you are."