Page 7 of Look What You Made Me Do

To be one of the have-nots.

“But they need Deluca High. The whole community does. Even if they don’t realize it.”

Sure, a small public school in the lower socio-economic suburbs of southside Inverboro, faced its share of challenges but Ella believed passionately that every kid, no matter their circumstances, deserved a good education. The problem for Deluca High was the proximity of two other public high schools and a district office looking to pinch pennies.

“I can’t turn my back on that,” she continued. “Not like Kelvin.”

“What are you going to do, babe?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. But I’ve got five months to come up with something.”

“You will.” Rosie squeezed Ella’s hand again. “We will.”

Ella smiled. This was the Rosie she knew and loved. Behind the don’t-fuck-with-me facade, Rosie was a bona fide pussy cat. She gave to buskers – even the terrible ones – she helped in the local soup kitchen, she wrote letters of protest for Amnesty International.

And she collected strays. Including Ella.

“Enough of me,” Ella dismissed, so sick of herself and her constant woes. “How’s it going with preppy boy?”

“He kissed me today.”

“What?” Ella’s eyes widened. “How old is he again?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“God, Rosie. He’s a baby.”

“I know. I’m a bad, bad person.” She sighed dramatically. “I’m probably going to hell.”

Ella rolled her eyes. Like the thought of a fiery afterlife wasn’t a turn-on for a semi-Goth chick. “What happened?”

“I dragged him into the stationery cupboard and suggested that we should do something about the chemistry burning between the two of us and that he should take full advantage of my appalling lack of morals and kiss me already.”

“Oh my God.” Ella laughed. Rosie, in complete contradiction to her appearance, worked as a systems analyst at city hall. Preppy guy worked in the same building in the mayor’s office. “So he kissed you?”

“Well, at first he said it was highly inappropriate and broke the rules of workplace conduct from 11a through to 19b.”

Ella gasped. “He did not!”

Rosie grinned. “I swear to God he did. And then I said in my opinion workplace rules were the most fun to break and he should give it a go.”

“And?”

“Let’s just say that man follows directions to the letter.”

Shaking her head, Ella said, “Isn’t he a little… strait-laced for you?”

In Rosie’s quest for the one, Ella had seen a procession of men through her life and none of them would ever be described as preppy. Her men were edgier. They rode motorbikes and got into bar fights. None of them would have given one fuck about the rules of workplace conduct.

“Yeah, but there’s something so endearing about him. He’s so neat and prim. I just want to… mess him up a bit.”

Ella shook her head, wishing for the thousandth time she could have just an ounce of her friend’s faith that Mr. Right was out there somewhere. If Rosie’s life was a song it’d be ‘I Get Knocked Down (But I Get Up Again)’.

Ella’s would be ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’.

“They’re not toys,” she tutted.

“Well, this one certainly isn’t. His great-grandfather was governor of the state back before World War I. His grandfather was a senator. His father is a fancy lobbyist for the DNC and his mother is some hobnobbing charity queen. He still lives at home with his parents. In Warrington Fields.”

---