Part 22: Victoria

Victoria did have something she was going to say to Hannah when she got back to her room. She had thought of it in the shower, rehearsed it as she wrapped herself up in three separate towels (one around her waist, one around her chest, and one for her hair), and had it cocked and loaded as she opened the bedroom door (where, she recalled with a shudder, there had once hung a light-blue-with-pink flowers sign reading Victoria’s Room). But it evaporated the instant saw Hannah, fuming, sitting at her computer desk. “I think James just fucking blocked me,” she said, indignant.

“What? Why? What’s his problem?” Victoria responded, all in quick succession, as she shut the door behind her.

“I don’t even know. He’s got some stick up his ass today or something, I guess. He does this. He’s such an asshole sometimes. Like, did you see his survey from last night.”

“No, not yet, why, what did it say?” Hannah had been on Victoria’s computer all morning.

“Well, like, there was this question that was like, ‘who’s your worst enemy’ and he put a bunch of random letters in there, trying to make it look like he just hit his hand on the keyboard,” Hannah explained, slamming her own hand on Victoria’s keyboard for emphasis, hard enough that a part of Victoria’s mind wondered if she had broken something - there had been a sound - “but then he put vb in there, like, three different times, so I asked him --”

“Wait, VB? What’s that mean?”

“Victoria Brixton, I’m assuming. What else could it be?”

“I don’t know, but, like . . . does he really not like me? What’d I ever do to him?” Victoria had taken her hair out of its towel and was looking through her closet for the perfect outfit. This was a job that required her full attention, so, now, distracted by the thought of James Cooper not liking her, she was just rifling through them all mindlessly.

“Right?! That’s what I said.”

“So what’d he say?”

“He didn’t. He just pretended it didn’t mean anything.”

“But you think it still does?”

“Obviously it does,” Hannah said, wordlessly indicating a black and gray patterned T-shirt with a subtle head nod. Victoria obediently grabbed it, turned away from Hannah, and pulled it over her head, removing the towel once she was sure her body was covered.

“Why, though?”

“Because he’s an asshole, I guess. Like he doesn’t want me to have other friends or something?”

“But we were friends first!” Victoria insisted. That made a difference; it had to. If she and Hannah didn’t have the past, what did they have?

“Obviously. You were my first friend in this stupid fucking town.” Hannah almost sounded like she might cry. The idea of that made Victoria feel like crying too, or punching James in the face. How dare someone make Hannah feel this way, when everything she did was for other people - look at her, even now, with all of this drama going on, showing Victoria which jeans went best with that shirt. “Like, how does he not get that?”

“He’s barely ever even talked to me,” Victoria said, trying to sound casual and dismissive about it. She and James had gone to school together since second grade but, until Hannah came along, they had never moved in the same social circles. Was it because of Sean? Guys didn’t care about things like that - did they? 

“Right? But like it’s not even really anything to do with you. It’s about me. It’s just ‘cause I’m friends with you.”

Victoria knew Hannah was trying to comfort her, but she wasn’t sure if this actually made her feel better or worse. Either way, there was a horrible sickness in her stomach that she couldn’t let Hannah see. Her job was to be there for Hannah; this was something that was happening to Hannah, really. “I don’t get him. Why’s his screenname the machine anyway?”

“I don’t know, why’s mine suicide’s grace?”

“Isn’t it from the OBM song?”

“Well, yeah, obviously, but like why did I pick that one and not another one? I just thought it sounded cool. James probably did the same thing with the machine. Either that or, like, he thinks it’s some super deep metaphor or something.” Hannah laughed her cold laugh. Her laughs were as distinct as different colors.

“He should hang out with Brownie,” Victoria said, hoping to make Hannah laugh her real laugh.

“Yeah, right?” Hannah did smile, but there was still a brokenness underneath it. “Anyway, it’s my turn to shower. You can have the computer if you want.”

“Thanks, yeah,” Victoria replied. As Hannah left the room, she took a look at herself in the mirror and sighed deeply. What if she wasn’t strong enough for Hannah to lean on? What if she let her down? The girl in the mirror didn’t look strong. But when Xander Cross looked in the mirror, maybe he had the same doubts, the same fears; and look at what he was able to do for people.

She would be strong. She had to be. For Hannah.