Part 2: Lizzie Bartlet

Mondays were the worst.  Whether she had heard enough adult complaints during her life or just disliked trading the relaxation of a weekend for the monotony of a classroom — likely a bit of both — Mills always struggled the first morning of the school week even at the best of times.  This morning was even harder due to her late bedtime the night before.  Fortunately her parents seemed equally regretful of their late evening, and the family of night owls gave each other plenty of space as they went about their morning routines.  Greg was on dropoff duty that morning, so after a quick breakfast for both of them and a fresh travel mug of joe for him, he and Mills headed to the car.  

“Can I have some of that?” She sighed as her father sipped on his morning brew.

“Sorry, kiddo,” he chuckled, “this much caffeine is bad for you at your age.  But if mornings are still rough when you get to high school, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” she groaned, “I was just joking anyway…kinda.”

Greg grinned and shook his head.  As with most morning drives with Dad, the rest of the trip was a quiet affair, something Mills especially appreciated this morning.  It gave her time to compose herself, or else to snag a brief power-nap before arriving at Bloomingdale Academy, the private school she attended.  Greg slowed to a stop in front of the main building.

“Have a good day, Mills!” 

“You too, Dad…love you!”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

The morning rolled by as it did every weekday, and Mills managed to keep focused despite her fatigue.  Fortunately classes were easier as the school year was winding down, state exams were over, and summer break loomed large for students and teachers alike.  Even lunch seemed better, even if it was still cafeteria food.  In addition to the energy boost of a full meal, Mills also benefited from the company of her friends outside of class.  Which was good; she needed the recharge before the afternoon free period — not because it was particularly strenuous, but because of what conversations lay in store for her.  Mills knew all too well who her study partner would be.

Lizzie Bartlet was nearly a year older than Mills due to the oddities of birth dates and grades — at least according to Liz — and considered herself several years wiser, at least on certain subjects.  The raccoon girl was the most popular girl in class, rarely found without a gaggle of her peers in tow, at least one naive boy or girl attempting to win her affections, and a handful of others (often former flings) with an unsavory opinion of her.  In contrast, Millie was more reserved, studious, and innocent, though she disliked being labeled as a “nerd.”  Her varied interests helped her create close bonds with a few classmates, but she was not really a social magnet, nor was she interested in drama or gossip.  In short, the two girls had very little in common.  However, Lizzie had inserted herself into Millie’s life to, in her words, “educate her in the ways of the world.”  Mills couldn’t help but think it was because she was the only classmate with decent grades who seemed completely impervious to Liz’s reputation.  As it stood, nobody held Millie’s proximity to the young raccoon against her, and there was an unspoken agreement between them not to involve each other in their respective drama.

“Hey Mills!”  The raccoon slid into the seat next to her study partner.

“Hi Liz,” Mills yawned.

“Wow, you look tired,” Liz sidled closer, a knowing look in her eyes.

“A little…mom and dad went on a date last night and let me stay up until they got home.”

“Oooh, lucky you!  Do anything fuuuuuuuuun?”

Mills looked away, refusing to reply, fully aware of what Liz was asking.

The raccoon finally broke the awkward silence.  “C’mon, spill!  How did it go on ‘the Hub’?”

“It was fine…mostly talked about Guardians.”

“What!?” Liz was staring at Mills like she had grown a third nostril.  “Didn’t you go to the Hunting Grounds?”

“I saw it, but I didn’t get around to checking it.”

“Aw, boo!”  Liz wrinkled her nose at Mills, “Hunting Grounds is the best part!”

“But it was N-S—”

“Shhh!” Liz waved a paw frantically as she whispered, “don’t spell it out…a teacher might hear.  Just say ‘nisswuff’ and I’ll know what you mean.”

“Ok…wait, but that’s not—” Mills caught Liz giving her a look and sighed, “fine, it was ‘nisswuff.’”

“Yeah, duh, why do you think it's so private?  But it’s juicy stuff…lots of hot guys and cute girls talking about doing it.”  Liz leaned close and whispered, “sometimes they even post pics.”

Millie’s cheeks went from cyan to dark blue in an undeniable blush.

“Oh my god, Mills, your face is priceless!”

“S-shut up!”  She buried her face in her homework folder.  “It’s just…you know I’ve never done any of that before.”

“Oh yeah, that’s more than obvious.  Which is whyyyyy,” she leaned closer, “I told you about that site in the first place.  You need to, like, expand your horizons and shit.  Seriously, the sooner you get laid the better.”

“Huh?  Laid?”

“Doing it, Mills.”

O-oh…better how?”

“I mean, it feels amazing, for one.  And it’ll loosen you up,” she winked, “in more ways than one.”

Mills continued to avoid Lizzie’s gaze.  She wasn’t sure what exactly made her uncomfortable talking about this with the raccoon girl.  It wasn’t as though she was afraid of the idea of sex — well, maybe a little.  But it also didn’t feel like a decision to make casually…her talks with her mom over the past couple of years seemed to confirm that.  

“Maybe you’re right?  But I’m not…like you.  I’m not into…that kind of stuff.”

“You aren’t a skank who’s into porn and sleeping around?”

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Ugh, I know…you’re just such a prude sometimes.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.”

“What?  It’s true!  You’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend, you’ve never kissed anyone, you’ve never looked at sexy pictures…I’ll bet you never even flicked your—”

“Elizabeth Bartlet!”  The two girls jumped and looked up to see one of the teachers supervising study hall looming over them.  “That is not appropriate school conversation, young lady…unless you want another stint in detention, I suggest you stop now.”

“We’re sorry, Ms. Isabel,” Millie cut in, “we will.  Right Lizzie?”

“Yeees,” Liz sighed.  With a suspicious look and a self-satisfied “humph!” Ms. Isabel walked away from the table.  The raccoon girl looked back at Mills, the flattest expression on her face.  “You’re still a prude.”

“You’re welcome,” Mills smiled.

“But seriously, go to the Hunting Grounds next time…if you don’t wanna see pics, those threads get marked so you’ll know which is which.”

“Ok…”

“And if you’re having trouble finding someone who’s your type, I’d be happy to hook you up—“

“Can we please stop talking about this and start working?  I don’t want us to get in trouble.”

Liz shrugged, and they both returned to their respective assignments.

*	*	*

Mills shuffled into the house a couple hours later, thoroughly exhausted.

“Go get changed and unpacked,” her mom instructed, “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

“Ok,” Mills yawned, trudging through the living room and down the hallway to her bedroom.

One set of jeans and a t-shirt later, she was sitting in her parents’ office finishing up homework for the next day.  As she sat reading, she couldn’t help but look up at the black screen of the computer.  She knew it was turned off and only her parents knew the password, but she felt the urge to at least hop on and see if she could check some of the threads she had commented on, maybe say hi to Connor if he was online.  No, she frowned, bringing her attention back to her homework, I need to finish this before bed; FurHub can wait.  This tactic worked…for all of ten minutes.  Soon she was thinking about the Internet again, and could barely concentrate on her reading.  With a frustrated huff, she padded across the house to the kitchen.

“Hey mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I…have an essay due next week.  Can you unlock the computer so I can do some research and writing?”

“Can it wait until tomorrow at least?  Your father will be home soon and we’ll be having dinner.  He and I planned to work on finances together afterwards, so we’ll need the computer for the evening.”

“O-ok, no big deal.  I can always use my phone to get started if I need to.”

“Thank you so much, honey…oh, and I wanted to thank you for being so good last night.  Your father and I are very proud of you.”

“Thanks, mom,” Mills smiled bashfully.  And shame – there was a little bit of that too.

“Did he tell you about maybe getting you some fun things to do while we’re gone on our next date night?”

“Uh-huh, he said I needed to keep getting good grades and not cause problems here or at school.”

“That sounds reasonable…shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

“Nope!  Plus summer break is coming up, so that’ll make it even easier!”

“Well now, you are a clever little gremlin.  We might need to give you some chores and house projects to make it more of a challenge over the summer.”

“Awwww beans,” Mills frowned, “should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“Now, now, they won’t be much harder than your normal chores, but yard work will need to be done, and I’m sure your dad could use help cleaning the garage.”

“How can he work at a fancy auto mechanic and never keep his own tools organized?”

“Trust me, if I knew I wouldn’t complain about how we can’t fit both cars in there.”  Mrs. Ferrier chuckled, and Mills joined in with a giggle.  “Anyway, could you set the table while you’re here?  Dad will be home any minute and we can eat as soon as he’s changed.”

Mills nodded and proceeded to pull kitchenware from the cabinets.

“Did Liz give you any trouble today?”  She heard her mother ask from the other room.

“Not really, just the same ol’ stuff.”

“I swear, one of these days that girl is going to get herself into deeper trouble than she can get out of.  If not in middle school, then in high school.”

“I heard a rumor there’s a running bet at school about when she’ll get pregnant.”

“Oh, now that’s taking things a bit too far.  Still…and it doesn’t help that her parents don’t do anything to curb that rebellious streak.”

“Yeah, I heard her brother is even worse.  I think he’s been arrested once, but that might just be another rumor.”

“From what little I’ve heard I wouldn’t put it past him.  But with how much time you spend with that Bartlet girl, I’m impressed that she hasn’t rubbed off on you more.  Especially seeing as how she latched onto you the first day she enrolled.”

Mills fumbled with silverware.  “Y-yeah, well I’m just not interested in all that gossip or…y’know, putting out.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  I don’t mind the idea of you being physical with someone someday, and I’ll be honest, I like the idea of being a grandmother—”

“Moooooom!”

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m not trying to be pushy or awkward.  But I want you to know that we aren’t opposed to you making someone else part of your family someday.  Just remember, love—”

“—is a treasure; don’t give a little away to everyone if you want to give it all to someone special.  I remember.”

“And if you want to give a little away to everyone, at least consider waiting until you’re out of high school,” Mrs. Ferrier paused at the sound of the front door, “take the time to learn about people more as an adult, not just as a child.”

“Is that why you and Dad are doing this whole ‘adult-in-training’ thing?”

“Yup, that’s part of it,” Mr. Ferrier replied as he stepped into the room, “gotta give you a chance to learn about yourself and how to be a strong, independent young woman who don’t need no man.”

“Daaaad,” Mills laughed.

“Relax, I’m only kidding…kinda.”

“If you’re done cracking wise, Greg,” Mrs. Ferrier said, smiling, “why don’t you go get changed so we can eat?”

“As you wish, m’lady,” Mr. Ferrier bowed, turned on his heel, and strode away.

“Finish setting those last places while I bring things out, Mills.”

“On it!”

Later, with a belly full of pasta and garlic bread, Mills sat reading her last homework assignments before bed.  She could hear her parents talking through the wall, though it was next to impossible to make out the words.  Not that Mills cared much…finances were boring.  The only thing that bugged her was the fact that her parents were using the computer — or, rather, that she wasn’t.  Mills was kicking herself for not saying her “research paper” was more urgent, though the honest part of her was relieved she hadn’t added another complication to that lie to keep straight.  Maybe Liz really is rubbing off on me, Mills cringed at that thought.  She couldn’t imagine walking around school, encouraging boys and girls to make gross comments about her, spreading all kinds of mean rumors about students and teachers, and generally being a…bitch.  The dragoness cringed even more, despite having only thought the word rather than said it out loud.  She prided herself in not using that kind of language herself, and not generally having a potty mouth aside from the occasional “crap,” but with Liz it was hard.  What Mills said in study hall that day was true: she didn’t mean for her comments to sound like she was looking down her nose, but with someone who was so determined to get on everyone’s bad side, it was hard to sidestep around the rotten language other people used.  Liz was a bitch and a skank, and seemed to both wear that fact like a badge of honor and hold it against everyone who thought it.  Mills was just glad she had found an equilibrium with Liz, an arrangement everyone (including herself) was surprised by.

Of course, Liz was also the person who introduced Mills to FurHub, which meant in some convoluted twist of fate, the raccoon was responsible for Mills meeting the nicest adult she had ever met.  Mills started to mope a little.  For a moment she contemplated trying to log onto FurHub from her phone, but almost immediately rejected that notion.  She had no idea how well such an old-looking site would work on her tiny screen, and plus the idea that her phone tracked her location meant it would be easier for any “Internet Police” to trace AzureDrake266 back to her.  Heck, she wasn’t even sure if somehow her parents could learn what sites she visited from their cell carrier, and them finding out was at least as scary as some nebulous, possibly-imaginary law enforcement agency.  So for now she just had to be patient.  Asking for more computer use would just look suspicious, and the last thing she wanted was to lose all these tantalizing adult perks her parents were promising.  Mills groaned as, for the first time in her life, she understood what grownups meant by “trying to have your cake and eat it too.”  And it sucked.  She didn’t want to choose between date night parties and Connor the Anime Boy.  I wish he worked at Bloomingdale or was one of Mom or Dad’s coworkers, Mills thought gloomily, then we could hang out or chat without any problems.

The beginning of “shave and a haircut” knocked on the wall interrupted Millie’s reverie, her parents’ signal for lights out.  She replied by rapping “two bits” with a knuckle to let them know she got the message, then put her books away and turned out the lights.  Lying there letting her eyes adjust, Mills couldn’t help but notice the sinking feeling in her gut.  Was she…sad?  No, that wasn’t quite right; sad was the feeling she got from a classmate scribbling on her coloring page, or dropping her buttered, grilled corn-on-the-cob at the fair.  This was the feeling when her favorite cousin moved across the country, or when she went to grandpa’s memorial service.  It was like feeling lonely, but differen.  Mills blinked, confused.  Was she missing Connor?

This is dumb, she thought, I only talked to him once, and I’ll probably talk to him again soon…why do I miss him so badly?

Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the notion that Connor’s absence had a stronger influence on her than she might have originally suspected.  And the more she tried to make the feeling go away by force of will, the more pronounced and stubborn it became.

Frustrated, the young dragon looked over at the stuffies that lined one side of her bed.  She had been collecting them ever since she could remember, a regular request for birthdays and New Years.  When she was smaller she used to pick one every night to cuddle, but had stopped that ritual when she was in fourth grade in favor of their current setup.  Now she sat up, picking through the fuzzy heads, knowing each one by heart.  From the row she extracted one about half the size of her pillow: a gray and white husky with soft, scruffy fur.

“You aren’t actually a wolf, Woofles,” she sighed, “but you’ll do.”  She lay back down, tucking herself and the stuffed dog in.  “G'night, Connor,” she mumbled, squeezing the stuffie in a tight embrace as she drifted off to sleep.