Chapter Text
Rachel - 2010
“‘A tempest looms over Blackwell Academy. But not just any tempest, The Tempest. Blackwell Drama Club is hard at work bringing one of Shakespeare’s final works to life right here on our campus; with rehearsals every week night, and an ambitious outdoor set-construction beginning this weekend. In an interesting twist on a theatrical tradition, Freshman Rachel Amber has been cast as the lead, as a renamed Prosper a instead of Prosper o . When asked about being given such an important role, she had this to say’…Jesus Rach, don’t you ever get sick of people being up your ass all the time?” Victoria tosses aside a copy of the school newspaper.
“Nope.” Rachel says, scrolling on her phone to find the perfect Pandora station.
“Right, let me guess ‘I’m a Leo, I always love the spotlight’” Victoria responds in a faux-posh, husky imitation of Rachel’s voice.
“No. It’s just nice to be recognized. Thought you might understand that, Vic.”
Victoria makes a low, irritated growl but otherwise holds back. It’s never wise to goad Blackwell’s most silver tongued thespian into a passive-aggressive war of words. Light electric guitar melodies fill the air as Rachel Amber and Victoria Chase begin their task in earnest. It seems nonsensical that the prop closet is so far away from the Drama classroom, but the obscure room on the second floor serves as a perfect place for Rachel and Victoria to kill time to avoid being put to harder work. The two fill up box after box of props that seem relevant to The Tempest, with more than a few gag props to amuse themselves as well. After all, if for every staff and sabre they include a singing fish plaque, then they’ll just have to return the extra props later while everyone else is hoisting and hammering the set.
This process seems to have already started, as the sounds of hammers and saws make their way up through the open window of this rather spacious “closet.” Wordlessly Rachel and Victoria agree that they have earned a break, so they sit on a pair of milk crates and watch the common folk at work. Mr. Keaton nervously looks on as teenagers attempt to construct a scaffold on which they hope to build a multi-tiered set. He lets out a piercing yelp as crucial support beam comes crashing down, as does the rest of the structure soon after.
Victoria sighs and looks almost past Rachel. “Do you have a light?” she asks.
“Not on me. You know that shit’s bad for you right?”
“Cut the shit Rachel, you smoke all the time.”
“Yeah, but not cigs. You should try it with me some time, you might actually unwind for once.”
“Not everyone wants to do drugs. Some of us like to remain in control of ourselves.”
Rachel gives a small chuckle. “It’s weed, Victoria. If you’d done it you would know it just makes you happy and hungry…and a little dumb. It’s not like I’m blacking out for weeks on end. Besides, I bet getting high and watching some of those anime you’re into would be hella sick.”
“God, you’re talking about pot and you just said ‘hella sick,’ we’re in Oregon, stop talking like we’re in Long Beach.”
“Look, you can take the girl out of Cali but you can’t take Cali out of the girl. Don’t you miss home sometimes?”
“No.” Victoria sounds particularly cold about that.
“Okay, well I love Long Beach, and I like to bring some chill vibes to this place, is that a crime?”
“Chill vibes? Christ Rachel, you’re embarrassing yourself.”
“No, I’ll be embarrassing myself when I watch your cartoons with you and I get so baked I can’t read the subtitles. Tomorrow night?”
“Speaking of drugs,” Victoria deflects, “look at that girl down there trying to toss that fucking plank.”
Rachel looks down and sees a tall blonde girl in torn jeans and a hoodie hauling a massive piece of plywood on her back. She places one end on the ground and pushes the other up, letting two other students catch it where the first layer of the scaffold used to be. She then squats at the other end and lifts it up and above her head, grunting as she does so, and tosses it up to another pair of builders. The girl turns back around and Rachel sees her face glistening, her hair stuck to her forehead, damp with sweat, as she gives a forceful high-five to the stage manager who promptly wipes her hand on her jeans.
“Oh my god,” Victoria continues, “that’s the only wood she’ll ever handle, fucking dyke. She looks like she hangs with the dealers and scumbags, I bet you two would get along.”
Unable to take her eyes off the girl, Rachel ignores the venom coming from Victoria. “Do you know her name? Who is she?”
“The fuck would I know? This is the first time I’ve seen any of the tech people, you know that. Did you forget we’re the talent, Rach?”
“No, I just thought maybe you’d spent more time with them since you’re my understudy and all. Anyway, I’ve gotta pee but you can probably go ahead and start bringing the boxes down, I’ll catch up.”
Victoria tries not to seethe. “Yeah, sure. But if you come back with bloodshot eyes smelling like a skunk you’re on your own.”
Rachel sits in the bathroom and gets to work. She recognized the stage manager helping build the set, Steph Gingrich. She’s a senior, and kind of a nerd, but she doesn’t seem to have the resentment toward actors that some of the other tech crew have. Rachel finds Steph’s Facebook page and adds her, scrolling down her profile. She passes mostly profile picture updates before she finds something she can work with. A few months ago Steph posted a picture of a rainbow Pride flag. The caption read “It’s Coming Out day so hey, I like girls. Shocking I know. Now carry on.”
It’s probably for the best that Victoria doesn’t know any of the tech people then. Rachel plays back their last conversation in her head and cringes at “fucking dyke.” Rachel has always called herself an ally, but should she really say that if she can’t even stand up to her own friends? Besides, she has no problem putting Victoria in her place any other time, but when she pulls out the D Card she chokes up.
Rachel manages to only stare off lost in thought for a few minutes before she regains focus, and checks the Pride picture to see who liked it. She checks every profile before finally getting to one that is completely private. The only things visible are a profile picture which is just the Misfits logo, and a name. Content in her snooping skills, Rachel closes the app on her phone and smirks to herself. “I hope you’re ready to have a new best friend, Chloe Price.”
Rachel makes her way downstairs and out to the quad, formulating her plan of attack. A smooth introduction, naturally, followed by an invite to the next Vortex Club party. Rachel already has pull there, she can certainly get anyone in the door. Especially after how hard that girl has worked to help out with Tempest? It’s the least the star can do to show her appreciation.
As she steps down the stairs from the main school entrance, Rachel sees the girl talking with Steph. She breaks her stride and just watches; her legs frozen and her voice caught in her throat for a second, maybe two. Regaining her composure, she continues her approach when a car horn loudly beeps from the street. The girl, Chloe, dramatically turns away from Steph and calls back to her, saying something about tomorrow, but Rachel can’t hear over the still-droning horn. This isn’t supposed to happen. Rachel Amber doesn’t get interrupted. Her fingernails dig into her palms. Tension rises in her chest but never reaches a boiling point. She’s able to suppress it this time. Rachel decides that this is for the best. A simple hello and how-do-you-do wouldn’t cut it. Where’s the flair, where’s the drama? She can come up with a better plan. For some reason, she wants to impress this girl. And if there’s one thing she knows how to do, it’s be impressive.
The recon work needs to start immediately, so Rachel continues her beeline for Steph. “Hey,” she chirps, “is that Chloe Price you were just talking to?”
Steph looks up from her phone, “Oh, yeah. Do you know her?”
“I’ve seen her around school. I didn’t know she was in the crew though. She kicked ass hoisting that wood up there.”
“Yeah,” Steph laughs, “she kicked her own ass. She probably won’t be able to lift her arms tomorrow morning. I offered to help, but that’s just how she is.”
“I’m in the same boat right now. Vic, my understudy, insisted on carrying all of those props down here. I think she really wants to make a good impression. Between you and me, she’s probably gunning for my role.” Rachel runs her hand through her hair. “So did you guys meet through crew? I’ve never seen her at any other club, or party, or hell even pep rally.”
Steph’s eyes follow Rachels’ hand. “No, uh, actually we just met through being outcasts who ate alone during lunch,” she chuckles, “and she doesn’t do much else, no. Not with anyone from school at least. I keep inviting her to Dun...I mean, to game nights at my house but she hasn’t taken me up on it yet.”
“I’m sorry you guys had to sit alone. Maybe I’ll come join you sometime, would that be okay?” Rachel bats her eyes.
“Y-yeah, sure. That could be cool.”
“So where did Chloe go earlier? I saw her get whisked away by some shitty truck.”
“That was her stepdad I’m pretty sure, but it’s a Friday night so I doubt she’s staying in. She’s probably gonna hit up one of those DIY punk shows the townies like to throw.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve been to a few of those,” Rachel lies, “maybe I’ll see her there. Anyway, I bet Vic is struggling with those props. All six feet of her, but she’s a beanpole, I’d better go help her out.” Rachel twirls as she walks away. “See ya later, Steph!”
“Is she really six feet tall?” Steph calls back.
“She wishes.”
Rachel makes her way up the staircase to meet Victoria and sees her struggling to balance two boxes of props, dropping some across the floor and down the stairs. “Ugh! You bitch!” she shouts. “Take some of this shit, I knew you were going to bail on me.”
The pair do a good enough job pretending to work until they are dismissed and return to their dorm rooms. Rachel blows off Victoria’s attempts to make plans for the night, as she has important business to attend to. More sleuthing reveals that there is indeed a DIY show happening in town tonight. She needs to be there, but more importantly, she needs to steal the show. Thinking back to the Green Day and My Chemical Romance concerts she saw as a kid, she begins laying out the punkest outfit she can assemble.
Chloe - 2010
Shit, Chloe thinks to herself, I really need to do laundry. She looks over her bedroom floor, the certifiable disaster area it is, and begins digging through clothes of varying degrees of stiffness hoping to find something suitable. The clothes she’s wearing now are already damp with sweat, and an evening of beer, weed, and other people’s sweat would make the smell unbearable. She’s in the midst of giving her Bad Brains T-Shirt a cursory sniff when she hears a car door shut outside her window, and soon after an engine revs. David is taking Chloe’s mom Joyce to see a movie tonight. Probably some shitty war movie knowing his taste. But their date night means freedom, and a chance to go out without anyone starting a fight or getting in her way. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, Chloe thinks, or I’ll probably just tell him to go fuck himself.
Once she sees David’s car pull out of the driveway, Chloe grabs an old tin of mints from her desk, and retrieves from it a half-finished joint she hastily hid this morning. She lights it and takes a drag, holding in the smoke before blowing it out the window. The high hits her stronger and more quickly than she anticipated; her blood still circulating much quicker than normal after her workout. Steph fucking owes me big time for this. Haven’t had that much exercise since... she stops herself. That’s not a road she can afford to go down. Not tonight. Tonight is a fucking party. So she needs to treat it like one. That begins with finding something to wear that’s just shitty enough.
Chloe begins desperately searching under her bed, hopeful to find a shirt that’s only been worn a couple times since the last wash, but only finds the occasional sock, and a shoebox filled with photographs. She begins to slide it out from under the bed, but pushes it back. Not tonight. A horrific sound comes from Chloe’s desk, causing her to hit her head on the bed frame as she comes back up. She massages the back of her skull and squints through the pain to see her phone vibrating against the old wood. She’s got a text.
steph
hey u still going out tonight?
chloe
yea just gotta find something to wear
my rooms fucked lol
steph
uh oh
chloe
why
steph
just checking. you know there’s always an open seat at my table…
chloe
yea I know but why uh oh
steph
oh, I just think it would be a good idea to try and look nice
in like a cool badass punk way, you know what I mean
just put your best foot forward
chloe
ok steph ill put my best foot forward at the fuckin punk show in greg’s basement
im sure greg has a strict dress code
black ties and shit
steph
now we’re talkin.
seriously though, I don’t wanna see you stay in just because you can’t find anything nice.
your folks are gone tonight right? maybe you could try that jacket you told me about…
chloe
no.
steph
okay
I’m sorry
chloe
its fine.
steph
you used a period it’s not fine.
chloe
ok shit but ill be fine
weed hits a bit different after a workout
i was pissed at first but u should have me pick up heavy things more often
steph
I’ll remember you said that…
but you’re smoking? are you wearing your smoking jacket?
Shit. Chloe rushes to the back of her closet, tears off her shirt and searches for her hoodie folded neatly in the back corner. David’s hard-on for weed means she has to try and quarantine the stink to a select few garments. Can’t have him thinking she’s some “ pot-head addict ” as he puts it. It also means that Chloe has a fresh top that certainly won’t look or smell out of place among Arcadia Bay’s punks.
chloe
now i am
steph
how’s it look?
chloe
kinda good tbh
hoodie without a shirt is cool right
steph
sure!
chloe
just free wheelin it
bouncin all over while i mosh
if someone hits me in the tit ill be pissed tho
steph
you can take ‘em.
chloe
fuck yeah i can
steph
just be safe and have a good night okay? and try and make some friends if you can ??
chloe
what’s that at the end
steph
?? ? that?
chloe
i just see question marks
steph
you see sometimes people like to use punctuation in their sentences
chloe
fuck you
steph
also it was the eyes emoji
chloe
no emoji!! i have dumb phone
steph
oh right lol. sorry. but yeah, text me when you’re home, k?
chloe
k mom
Chloe gathers her wallet, spare keys, spare weed, and lighter. The essentials. She locks up and makes sure the lights are out as she heads to the outskirts of town. The show is at a venue called “The Crow’s Nest”, though to call it a venue would be generous. The sun has set by the time Chloe reaches a house that looks to be in rough shape, and is surrounded by denim-clad teens and twenty-somethings enveloped in a cloud of weed and tobacco smoke. Chloe makes her way into the small crowd and stands around observing conversation before trying to break the ice.
“So, you guys here for Fugaza Strip?” She asks, careful not to look too eager.
A short man with a goatee chuckles, and gestures to the three men around him.
“We’re Jurassic Narc, we go on in ten.”
“Oh, sick.” Chloe pauses nervously. “So do I like, go around the back?”
“Yeah, just make sure you leave us a five in the box, we could all use some beer money after this.”
“Hell yeah, especially in some nothing town like Arcadia.” Chloe responds. “Sucks that college gig cancelled on you guys.”
“Oh you heard about that? Well, I guess you probably heard about Fugaza anyway. Yeah, that sucked. Good thing we’ve got you art school dropouts here to rage with us though, right?”
“Actually I’m still...I mean, yeah, hell yeah. Anyways, have like, a fuckin sick set, man. I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you in there.”
Goatee Man gives an amused nod as Chloe rounds the backyard and dutifully leaves the requested five bucks in the donation box before heading in the door directly to the basement. The smell of alcohol and sweat immediately fills Chloe’s nostrils and any self-consciousness leaves her as she exhales. She grabs a bottle of Blue Moon from the back and makes her way to the front. The de-facto stage has two acoustic guitars, a stand-up bass, a microphone, and a washboard on a stool front and center, with a much more elaborate setup behind, being reserved for later. A few minutes and half a beer later, the bearded boys from outside file in and man their stations. They do a final soundcheck with a folk-punk cover Chloe knows (as does the rest of this crowd evidently) and she loses herself in the music, bouncing and pushing off the people around her. David isn’t there. Blackwell isn’t there. Max, well, she’s never there. Neither is her dad, anymore. But they’re gone from her mind for a moment as she screams along to a song she knows, and learns to love songs she’s never heard before and will never hear again.
Jurassic Narc finishes their set, which Chloe did find to be fairly sick, and pack up their sparse setup. Chloe goes back for another beer, her third of the night. A much more professional looking group begins assembling the new stage setup. Electric guitars, amplifiers, and a proper drum kit are all moved up as the frontman starts to banter with the crowd.
“Hey how we doin’, just wanna shout out the Crow’s Nest for havin’ us on such short notice. We appreciate the hospitality and how down to earth y’all are, even for being a bunch of fruity art school kids.” The crowd laughs, Chloe furrows her brow. “In case you didn’t hear we have the privilege of being here tonight because the pussies over at the State University thought our name was insensitive. Even though they already booked us! Even though the students didn’t care! The faggots in the administration with their tight fuckin’ suits didn’t want anything political on their campus.”
“Oh fuck off!” Chloe lets out, involuntarily.
“Yeah, fuck ‘em!” The frontman calls back approvingly.
“No man, like, fuck you!” Well she’s already going, might as well let it all out. “You think you’re fuckin’ edgy, oh my name’s fuckin’ Fugaza Strip, I talk shit about gay people and tight pants or whatever because I haven’t realized it’s not 2002 anymore. I liked you guys better when you opened for fuckin, Alien Ant Farm.”
A few people nearby laugh, but otherwise the air remains thick.
“What the fuck is this bitch talking about, get her out of here!” He looks around expectantly. “Oh right, I forgot I was in some hick’s basement and not a real venue with real security, I’ll take care of it.” He shoves his microphone stand out of the way as Chloe hears loud footsteps coming down the stairs in the back. The man grabs Chloe by the shoulder and she tries to fight him off. “Get off me!” she yells, struggling to break free. A nervous commotion begins in the crowd as the drunk denizens of the Crow’s Nest try to navigate an increasingly dangerous and tense situation. Chatter begins to rise when a voice from the back cuts through the rest.
“What the FUCK are you doing?”
Chloe looks back and can barely see a puff of hair poking out from the crowd, making its way closer. In a matter of seconds a short, well-decorated woman emerges and gives the man a hard shove. “Get the fuck off of her now, you creep!”
“Bitch!” The man yells, and he cocks back his fist before lunging forward with a punch. The short woman dodges out of the way but Chloe’s reflexes are not exactly at their peak tonight and she catches his fist in her left eye. “Shit!” she yells in a mix of anger and pain. This isn’t the first time Chloe has been hit like this. Not even the first time lately. But it’s the first time she’s had a chance to fight back. She moves to retaliate but the woman steps between them and delivers a swift but forceful kick between the man’s legs. She turns to Chloe. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chloe turns before she leaves and spits at the man as he lays on the ground. He groans and holds up a middle finger as she and the woman leave The Crow’s Nest, but not before grabbing a couple more beers on their way out.
“Shit, dude, you know how to party,” the woman says, stuffing the beers into her backpack.
“What...what the fuck was that? Where did you come from? Do I know you?”
“Do you?” She gives a coy smile. Chloe looks at her face for a second. She’s certainly never lingered for this long, or seen her in the moonlight, but she does remember catching glimpses of these same long, naturally curled eyelashes and full pouty lips in the hallways at Blackwell. Not that she had ever paid much attention of course.
“Wait, holy shit Rachel? Rachel Amber? You look way different from school.”
Chloe looks her up and down once more. A strange pompadour, makeup fit for a mall-goth music video, and a torn leather jacket with far too many unnecessary zippers and tassels over an American Idiot t-shirt is certainly different from the well-put-together American Eagle ad she usually resembled. But Chloe has to admit, she doesn’t look as bad as she probably should. Though she would have stuck out like a sore thumb had she seen her in the crowd.
“What were you doing there anyway?” Chloe continues.
“Partying, same as you. I wanted to see Jurassic Narc but little did I know they’d turn out to be shitheads. C’est La Vie.”
“Actually, that was Fugaza Strip. Jurassic Narc played earlier.”
“Damn. Well at least this night wasn’t a total waste.” Rachel says, jangling the beers in her bag. “Speaking of, I’m not nearly wasted enough to call it a night just yet.”
“Well there aren’t really any other spots to go to right now, Arcadia isn’t fuckin’, swimming in places to throw down.”
“You wanna throw down?! Let’s fucking throw down, bitch!” Rachel says in a deep voice, imitating the man from earlier.
“Too soon, dude, Jesus. This shit is gonna give me a black eye, I know it. What the fuck am I gonna tell my mom.” Chloe rubs her cheekbone, a blackish purple in the moonlight.
“Slipped in the shower? That’s the classic, right?” Rachel sniffs around Chloe, who recoils a bit. “But first you’d need to take a shower to make that believable. Come on, we’re gonna keep this night going, give you your shower and alibi in the morning, and you can tell your mom your brilliant, gorgeous, friend from school had you over for an all-night study session. You’ve got trees, right?”
Chloe struggles to take everything in, her drunk-but-not-trashed brain struggling to process all that Rachel is suggesting.
“What do you mean, trees?”
“Weed.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah I’ve got a bit.”
“Tight. Alright come on then, come with me and let’s get to know each other.”
Rachel starts off in another direction, looking determined. Chloe looks deeper into town towards home. Not tonight. She looks back at Rachel and takes some brisk steps to catch up.
“Oh hey, so you’re Rachel Amber, star student, actress, all that shit, everyone knows you.” Chloe’s voice shakes a bit, anticipating the point at which Rachel realizes she’s accidentally picked up a nobody and this all falls apart. Best to go with self-deprecation. She continues, “But like an asshole I didn’t introduce myself even though you saved my ass. I’m Chloe Price.”
Rachel looks her in the eyes with a smirk.
“I know.” She says, and winks.