The Forgotten Generation: Chapter Six

The Forgotten Generation

Chapter Six: Little Miss Perfect and the Fairy Queen

“Well, of course we didn’t get along at first.  Like, I remember thinking something along the lines of, ‘Of all the people to pair me with, you pick the fruity one?’  I mean, how was I supposed to know?  How were any of us supposed to know?”

--from an interview with Madeline Nelson, aged 17.

Quincy settled down nervously, glancing over his shoulder at Rainer.  He hoped that his best friend didn’t do or say something stupid…  Shelley was an abnormally nice girl, and Quincy thought Rainer might even grow to like her, if only he’d give her the chance to prove herself.  From what Quincy had seen, she wouldn’t be the type to anger or irritate Rainer, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to disagree with him.  Maybe the three of them could even be friends somehow.  He just had to hope that Rainer didn’t ruin any possibility of that friendship by being unnecessarily harsh; Shelley also didn’t seem like she’d take criticism well.  He was sure she got enough of that from the rest of the school.

“Look, are you going to keep staring at your boyfriend, or are you going to talk to me?”

An involuntary blush spread across Quincy’s face as he stuttered, “I—he—er, we’re not—he’s—he’s not my boyfriend…  We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, right,” Madeline said, rolling her eyes, “Like I haven’t heard that one before.  What’s next, you’re just experimenting?”  She crinkled her narrow nose as if the very thought of bringing that up bothered her.  Quincy didn’t think he’d be winning her over any time soon, but he hadn’t expected to.  He’d only heard of her before, but he knew that Madeline Nelson was not an easy person to impress.  Quincy simply had nothing to offer her in any way.  He wasn’t exactly popular or well-liked, or even liked at all…  His parents didn’t have an exorbitant amount of money, and he wasn’t intriguing or exceptionally good-looking.  Madeline didn’t have to know anything about him to know that someone hated him, either; a dark bruise stained his otherwise pale skin, blacking out the freckles that dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.  As far as she was concerned, Quincy was useless to her.

Averting his eyes, Quincy shrugged.  “I’m not experimenting, but… Rainer’s straight as a board.  And even if he wasn’t, he’s not my type.”  Quincy didn’t really get the chance to “go after” much of anyone in his school, but he was far more attracted to kinder, gentler souls.  He didn’t want to walk on eggshells around his significant other; he wanted to be able to open up, heart and soul.  There was no point in trying for anyone he’d spend the entire relationship terrified of. It was bound to end in nothing but misery for both of them—and that included anyone who had anger management issues, even besides Rainer. 

“Whatever you say, fruit.” 

“Quincy,” he interjected.

“I’m sorry?” Madeline replied, her voice rising in pitch with irritation.

“I have a name.  It’s Quincy.”  He shrugged again, a nervous habit, as whatever courage he’d had for the past few seconds faded.  What was he thinking, talking back to Madeline?  Wasn’t she dating Keiden, the very guy who tormented him day after day after day?  This should be the last girl he wanted to have against him; she could make his life even worse than it already was, and that was an accomplishment.  He certainly didn’t want to risk making her an enemy, but what could he do?  She already hated him, so it wasn’t as if his talking out of line had set them off on the wrong foot; his mere existence had been enough to do that.  It didn’t seem that there would be any way to get her on his side…  He ran a shaky hand over his shoulder, as if he could comfort himself with the action; it didn’t work as well as he would have hoped.  “It’s just, most people call each other by their names,” he said. 

He chanced a glance back to the girl, who wasn’t meeting his eyes; her own clear blue eyes were focused plainly on the white tiles beneath their feet.  “You haven’t really called me by mine, either,” she pointed out.  Even while she wasn’t looking at him, he could sense that she was still dominating the conversation; it was almost as if she were merely waiting for him to step out of line, waiting for him to make just the “right” wrong move before she would move into checkmate. 

“You haven’t really given me the chance… and I haven’t gone out of my way to insult you.”

It was Madeline’s turn to shrug this time; she wasn’t used to anyone talking so openly to her.  Granted, he wasn’t talking much, but it was a start.  She couldn’t figure out whether it irritated her or pleased her to hear the truth, or at least as close to it as anyone like her was going to get.  On one hand, the break from the constant compliments that turned out to be bold-faced lies was nice; on the other, any compliment was nice, even if she didn’t always believe them.

“So, where’d you get the bruise?” she asked, her eyes briefly flitting to the dark mark on his face.

“I’d…”  Another nervous shrug.  “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about that…  I mean, you know, sometimes things just happen…”  Really, though, he just didn’t want to tell Madeline that her boy-toy had spent the better part of an hour tormenting him the day before.  “So… um, Madeline… what now?” Quincy asked, not knowing what else to do as his companion fell silent.  When Rainer went quiet, it was generally understood that not talking was in his best interests; when Madeline stopped talking, he felt that he was supposed to say something, but he didn’t have the slightest clue what that something might have been.  Socialisation wasn’t his strong suit, after all.

The question, however, seemed to startle Madeline out of some faraway world she was visiting, but she didn’t respond verbally yet.  Instead, she reached a manicured hand into her purse, checked the time on her phone, and gingerly climbed out of the desk.  “I have other plans, too,” she said, speaking equally to Mr. Vaughn, Quincy, and herself.  “Mr. Vaughn never mentioned this was going to take much longer than a few minutes.”  That was all she said to excuse herself before she walked out. 

Mr. Vaughn cleared his throat and looked to the remaining four occupants of the room.  “Yes, I suppose I may have made that mistake with all of you…  It’s clear you all want to go home, so if you’re ready to leave for the day, I won’t stop you.  But we’re going to have another meeting next Wednesday,” he reminded, as if the first thing that came to anyone’s mind was when they could torture themselves with this again.

Rainer didn’t want for a second chance; almost immediately, he popped up from his seat, slung an almost-empty book bag over his shoulder, and crossed the few yards to Quincy, where he stood in wait impatiently, head cocked to one side. 

“C’mon, kid, I haven’t got all day.  You want to walk home by yourself, or what?”

“Alright,” was the soft response.  Quincy offered a half-smile, which was usually as wide as he ever smiled, even around his best (and, technically, only) friend.  Still, Rainer knew that he was at least somewhat happy as he stood and draped his bag over his shoulder.  “I guess I’m partner-less, anyway,” he reasoned as he trailed behind Rainer. 

Rainer chuckled.  “Don’t I always tell ya I’m the only one willing to put up with you?” 

That comment made the corners of Quincy’s mouth twitch, although his half-smile didn’t widen.  Rainer was used to it, and he even found it enjoyable that Quincy wasn’t prone to overreacting to humour and jokes; incessant laughter grated on his nerves.  If Quincy didn’t even fully smile, then he didn’t laugh, and that meant he wasn’t irritating… or at least not in that respect.  Luckily, to Rainer, at least, Quincy wasn’t irritating in most respects.  He didn’t make much noise, and he knew how and when to hold his tongue.

As they walked, exiting the building, Rainer continued, “Do me a favour—don’t ever ask me to sit in with you again.” 

Quincy’s half-smile fell, and his eyes dropped to the ground.  “That bad?” he questioned.  “I thought you might like Shelley.” 

Rainer fell eerily silent, which made Quincy quite uncomfortable.  Usually, he knew why Rainer fell silent: he simply didn’t want to talk about something, or he had nothing to say.  In this case, Quincy figured it was the first, but he wasn’t sure what his friend’s reasoning was behind the decision… unless his preconception had been spot-on. 

“So, you did like her?” he pressed.  Rainer had an easier time controlling his anger when it came to Quincy, so he wasn’t too worried about setting him off just yet.  “Then how was it so bad?”

“I never said I liked her.  I mean, hell, she’s even scrawnier and wimpier than you.” 

“But…?”

“But—there’s no but,” Rainer argued.  When Quincy shot him a look that obviously said he was unconvinced, he sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets.  “I guess…  I don’t know.  I just… felt weird, y’know?  I mean, maybe…  Maybe something’s up with Shelley.” 

“Rain, I knew that from the start…  I mean, I’m not going to say that I know what it is, but…”

Rainer shrugged.  “It’s none of my business, or yours, for that matter.  I should just stay out of this at all, I think.  You guys can have your little get-togethers or whatever, but when you’re planning ‘em, lose my number.”

“It really cannot be that bad…”  Quincy frowned.  “Come on, just give it one more try?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“For Shelley?”

“Hell no.”

One of Quincy’s hands wrapped tightly around the strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white.  “For me?” he asked nervously, very nearly pouting. 

Rainer paused.  There was silence for a while, and Quincy figured he was, for once, trying to think of a tactful way to say “fuck off,” but he was surprised when his friend finally opened his mouth.  “Fine, but only because I owe you.”

The half-smile lit up Quincy’s face again.  “I knew you’d come through.”

Madeline was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar, dark blue sports car in her driveway when she arrived home.  She climbed out of her own car and peered at her reflection in the shiny window, fussing with her hair and wiping at the lip gloss at the corners of her mouth.  Her heels clicked against the pavement as she quickly walked to the house and slipped through the door. 

In the kitchen, Anne was politely entertaining (probably more like bothering, knowing the aging housekeeper) a well-built, broad guy clad in a letterman jacket.  At the sound of Madeline entering, both of their heads turned.  Anne’s smile was polite, but the male’s bordered on outright lecherous.  Madeline giggled and moved to drape her arms over his shoulders.  He kissed her deeply in greeting, obviously not caring if Anne saw or not. 

Madeline did, though, and she drew away although her teasing smile remained.  “What do you say we head up to my room?” she murmured. 

He agreed all too quickly, blond head nodding much like a bobble-head toy, and she pulled him out of the chair.  As they disappeared to the second floor, Anne sighed and shook her head, wondering where they had gone wrong with Madeline Nelson.  Little Maddi used to be such a good child, but that was before she reached the age where she really needed a strong parental figure.  Anne did her best, but she couldn’t replace the poor girl’s real, biological and legal parents.  She would forever blame Mr. and Mrs. Nelson for ruining such a sweet, genuine little girl. 

Forty-five minutes later, Madeline had climbed off of her bed, pulled her underwear back on, and wandered into the bathroom.  She didn’t particularly have a need or a desire to fix her hair or makeup, despite how atrocious it looked—she wasn’t quite as vain as she often pretended to be—but it was better than lying in bed and having to actually socialise with someone like Keiden.  He was the sort of guy who wasn’t good for many things, and the things he was good at were very specific: sex, violence, and sports.  He wasn’t the kind of guy she’d take to meet her family… not that they’d even bother to show up if she wanted to introduce them, anyway.

She jerked a little when she saw a naked Keiden in the mirror behind her.  She whirled around, irritated, and snapped, “Would you put that away?  God, have some decency for once, would you?”

Keiden didn’t seem fazed by her rudeness, as he merely held up a little plastic baggy filled with something that looked vaguely illegal. 

“Kei!  What the hell?” she whispered harshly.  “For fuck’s sake, get that out of here!  Shit, if my dad finds out—”

Keiden’s brow furrowed.  “I thought you said he wasn’t home.”

“Ugh, he’s not, but—just—just get rid of it, would you?  Fuck, how stupid are you?”  Madeline pushed past him to go back into her room.  She picked up his boxers off the floor and chucked them at him.  “Get dressed, and get out,” she said, throwing his jeans at him, as well. 

“What’s your problem?  It’s just a little—”

“Just a little what?” she snapped.  “I do a lot of things, but weed isn’t one of them. Now get that shit out of my house.”  Even though he was only holding his bundle of clothing, and still very much naked, she started pushing him out of her room.  He was easily stronger than her, but he didn’t bother resisting much, even when she slammed the door in his face. 

With a laboured huff, Madeline ran a hand through her tangled hair.  No doubt Keiden would be pissed at her for a while, but she didn’t care much about that.  Sure, she misbehaved, but she wasn’t going to get caught doing something that stupid, especially not in her own house.  She really needed to start hanging around smarter guys…