It’s kind of a ritual at this point, for Penny and Constance. A moment just for them, amidst all the choir rehearsals and Penny’s photography and WWF clubs, Constance helping out in the café almost every afternoon and with her youngest brother, and all the tests thrown at them since the beginning of senior year. Penny presumes that it’s better that the peaceful moments are rare — she can cherish them more this way.
When Constance approaches Penny after school on the first Friday of September and gently takes her hand, as if in a question — do you want to do this? (Is this safe? Are you safe?) — and when Penny doesn’t pull away, it’s just a matter of minutes before they’re at the Blackwood Café, stepping through the threshold.
The Blackwood’s upstairs bathroom is decently sized, with orange and warm brown tiles on the walls and periodically flickering light above the mirror. Constance shares it with one of her brothers, so there are two doors — the left to her room, right to her brother’s.
It’s already early evening. Penny doesn’t notice time passing when she’s at the Blackwoods.
There’s a tub of light purple hair dye on the counter, dye–filled, and the whole bathroom smells like chemicals. Constance has an already–stained, dark towel over her shoulders, tips of her hair already wrapped in silver paper, Penny’s gloved hands holding a spoon to mix the dye in a separate bowl.
Constance’s phone sits on the counter. Her MP3, burned from an Avril Lavinge album she got for her last birthday, right next to it, playing one of the songs and mid–volume.
Penny’s hands in Constance’s hair feel nice. She’s always gentle with them, which is surprising considering how rough she usually is. All soft around the edges, as if she sheds her skin every time she’s around Constance, like a snake or something. Penny is the future zoologist between the two of them.
Constance knows Penny doesn’t like Septembers. Never did, even before. They remind her too much of the farm raid and all that, she told her at one of their many sleepovers, and she's not really a fan of the weather getting colder either — so she lets Penny choose the color to dye their hair for now. Constance chose it at the beginning of summer, so it’s only fair Penny makes the decision.
“What color is it this time?” Constance hums when Penny is busy putting bleach on the tips of her hair. Penny replies with a low mumble, still not stopping her ministrations on Constance’s hair, parting a chunk of it before replying,
“Purple.” She takes one look at the dye’s box. “Well, actually it’s named lollipop purple. Weird fucking name.”
“I like it.” Constance shrugs, and Penny quietens back down, shifting so her back straightens. “I like all of the paint names. Like, the ones you see in construction stores, a thousand different types of white and each have stupid names, like, peach dove. Snow— something.”
Penny makes a soft ah sound. The bleach brush delves deeper, silver wrapping clinking, almost against the skin of Constance’s scalp now.
The phone buzzes as Avril’s voice comes to an scratchy stop.
“Sit down, I’ll get it.” Penny says, and before Constance can see who is calling, Penny is tearing the left glove off and reaching for the phone on the counter. She presses the green button on the keyboard and leans back against the counter casually before rigiding up, like a scared cat. “It’s Ocean.”
Constance’s heart stops. Then she slaps a hand over her mouth. “No way.”
Penny snaps her fingers at Constance quietly as she purses her lips, listening to Ocean’s blubbering on the phone.
“What am I doing on Co— murdering people.” Penny babbles out, like murder is the first thing that comes to her mind at any given time, and Constance resists the urge to reach over and smack Penny on the forehead.
Constance hears Ocean’s shrill screams on the other side of the phone.
"What? No, I’m obviously fucking joking! Jesus, Ocean.” Penny throws her arms up in exasperation before honing in on Ocean’s yells again. “Constance can’t talk to you right now, she’s locked in a washing machine.”
“Penny!” Constance slithers and all but wretches the phone out of her hands. Penny doesn’t put up much of a fight, and Constance puts the phone to her ear.
“Ocean?” Her voice comes out sounding a tad more irritated than she meant for it to be, but hell, Ocean doesn’t notice shit likes this.
“Constance? Is that you?” Ocean sounds really shaken up, like when she tumbled down the hill behind their school in PE in sixth grade and got a really bad concussion, and Constance feels the urge to shove a middle finger into Penny’s face before she catches how red the other girl is from holding in laughter. Entire upper body jumping up and down in some fucked up symphony.
And the fight leaves her. Like Penny’s silent laugh vacuumed it out.
“Yeah.”
“Thank gosh!” Ocean breathes out, Constance’s ears ringing, and for a moment it’s completely quiet on both sides before she launches into another tirade. “Penny really scared me there, she’s a really good liar, you know, for a moment I thought she locked you in a washing machine and she was now telling me and I would be charged for being an accomplice for murder—”
“Ocean.”
The other girls immediately shuts up. Constance basks in the silence for a few moments.
“What did you want?”
“Oh!” Ocean squeaks embarrassingly high, and there’s shifting of something similar to pages before she speaks up again. “I just wanted to ask you, do you want to hang out after— after school? On Monday, maybe?”
Constance’s mouth falls open. Penny has a frozen expression of absolute shock on her face before she starts almost thrashing the bathroom like a rabid ape, jumping up and down. Constance thinks that if she could, Penny would start hanging onto the cupboards and swinging back and forth.
“What are you waiting for?!” Suddenly, Penny is right in front of her face, slithering, and Constance’s face goes numb, then tingles. “Reply to her! Now! Now!”
Constance barely puts the phone back to her ear — her arm has been hanging loosely for god–knows–how–long — and Ocean is losing her absolute shit on the other side.
“I mean we don’t— we don’t have to do it tomorrow, if you don’t want to, or— or at all, it’s just a loose suggestion!”
“No!” Constance yells back, and promptly freezes in absolute fear. Penny is almost slapping her face with how hard she’s gesticulating, whispering angrily, but absolutely nothing is going through Constance’s muddled brain.
Come on, Blackwood, do something!
She takes a deep breath. One, two.
“No, I meant— we can. Absolutely.” There’s a weird, shrieking sound from Penny as she bounces back, but Constance ignores it in favor of listening to Ocean’s shallow breathing.
Ocean breathes out heavily. “Really?”
Constance purses her lips in a bit–back grin. “Yeah. Really.”
Then her phone makes a no battery sound, cutting Ocean off mid–word, and Constance almost chucks it at the wall behind Penny.