Lockertime
Faithtastic

"I can't believe that girl. She puts the 'who' in hooker."

Courtney shut her locker and leaned against the tall steel cabinet. "I mean, what did she think it was? A lap-dancing tryout?"

"Jan certainly got an eyeful," Whitney agreed, collecting a couple of history textbooks from her own locker. "Personally, I can't believe Torrance over-ruled us. My sister is way better than that dykosaurus. Did you see her shoes?"

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Like totally." She folded her arms and glanced distractedly down the hall. "And anyway, she was gyrating two inches from my face. I mean, gross."

Whitney made a non-committal sound, then turned to the other girl, face screwed up in confusion. "What?"

"Not Missy," Courtney replied in a tone ripe with derision. "That blonde skank."

"Why are you obsessing about this anyway?"

"I'm not. I'm traumatised."

Whitney smirked, tucking her books under her arm. "About your latent lesbianism."

"As if. Besides," Courtney said smugly, "if I'm a big dykey loser, doesn't that reflect on you?"

The smile slipped immediately from Whitney's features. "Oh my God . . . do you think people think we're a . . . couple?"

Both sets of eyes scanned the corridor, watching the other students passing by on their way to classes. Suddenly, they were beginning to see things in a new light. Guys drooled over them and they'd always assumed it was because they were cheerleaders and they were gorgeous. What's not to love? But the guys seemed to be smiling knowingly as they sauntered past. Maybe they were secretly imagining some kind of sordid sapphic pom-pom fantasy in their heads. And the girls stared at them with contempt, which they'd always passed off as jealousy. I'm sexy, I'm hot, I'm everything you're not. Obviously they really thought Courntey and Whitney were raging lesbos!

Courtney frowned. "My mom did try to give me this weird lecture on alternative lifestyles last week when I told her I wanted to become vegetarian. She had this parenting manual and everything."

"Oh my God. This is complete social suicide."

Whitney closed her eyes momentarily, only to open them again and see Les approaching. It was an omen, she was sure.

"Well, I guess we are like an old married couple sometimes," Courtney said with a shrug. "With the no sex, and the arguing, and the - "

"Finishing each other's sentences."

They looked at each other and shared an uncomfortable smile.

"So, um, you still want me to stay over tonight?" Whitney asked, a strange blush colouring her bronze cheeks.

"Sure." There was a moment of silence as Courtney chewed on her lip. "Although maybe we shouldn't sleep in the same bed any more."

The oriental girl nodded. "But we can still paint each others toes and bitch about people."

"Well, duh!"