Lies, Old and New

Jillian couldn't seem to tear her shiny green eyes away from the cheap snow globe with the lit-up blue jellyfish inside. Funny thing was, the reason she couldn't shift her eyes came from the same reason they were shiny with tears that were threatening to fall. Hell, no threaten about it... they were coming, and coming soon.

A sigh, then a deep, regretful mutter finally broke the silence of too many minutes. "Jelly..."

That did it.

At hearing the nickname from him that she'd tried to quash years before, a sob escaped Jillian's lips before she sealed them shut, but that was more than enough to humiliate her, and she reached out to snatch up the snow globe with both hands and clutch it to her chest. "...can I take this back?"

She still wouldn't look at Bash, but she could see his face anyway; it wasn't hard to fill in the blanks with the avalanche of memories available to her after a dozen years. His pale blue eyes were crinkled at the corners because he was frustrated... that one line across his forehead would appear because he was concerned... the left side of his mouth was up higher than the right because he was about to...

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law, but the law one."

...say something so goofy that it would force her to stop getting all worked up and try to figure out what the hell it even meant. Well, not this time. "I gave it to you after that class trip, so if you're going to get me expelled, or whatever, then I want to keep it." There, that was enough. Jillian had no desire to explain why she wanted to keep the dumb tchotchke and embarrass herself even more. He was just a guidance counselor, not her...

He was just a guidance counsellor. Dammit.

"Jelly... sorry. Miss Drevin. Why on the planet would you think you're going to be expelled?" When she didn't answer, he stood to his full six-foot height and took a few steps, but only a few. "Is it because you got caught with some weed?" Another couple steps. "Is it because you pushed that girl in the hallway last week?" Closer... closer... "Or is it because you called Principal Kowalski a... what was it? Rancid cunt?"

Jillian hugged the snow globe tighter before she answered. It was all she could think to do. "All of the above. I... it all came out, I guess. Right? It's too much to ignore... right? Even you can't smooth this--"

It was the big mitt coming down on her shoulder and squeezing that shut her up even before Bash began answering his own questions. "Jelly..." No more Miss Drevin, apparently. "...we don't expel for an ounce of weed. If we did, the five kids we have left would get pretty lonely." He chuckled at himself then, and it was all she could do not to reflexively respond in kind. "And at least a dozen other students saw Kristy Park try to hip-check you into the wall before you turned the tables on her." He paused for dramatic effect then. "And Principal Kowalski is a rancid cunt... though that one you probably should have kept under your hat." He sighed then, but gave her shoulder one more squeeze before he went back to his chair. "So... a week's suspension." He held out a very official-looking slip of paper, waving it under her downcast eyes.

Jillian finally looked up then and stared at him. Like every other time, she guessed she could see why most the girls in their K-12 academy had crushes on him; the thick, dark hair, the bronze eyes, the muscles, the chin... whatever. To her, though, he was just... Bash. He was the big guy behind that scuffed and dinged desk ever since forever. She could still remember laughing at one of his bad puns during orientation on her first day of school when she was six. The kaleidoscope of memories of sitting right in this spot more times than she could possibly count didn't include a single second of mooning after him like some flighty little girl. He was more than that. Better than that.

He was the light at the end of a dark tunnel that stretched for miles, and she couldn't deny it, no matter how guilty she felt. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself that he was just a guidance counsellor.

"A week's..." She just shook her head. "Bash, how the hell? I went fucking nuts!"

"Language." He snorted. "And you don't know what going nuts even looks like. Trust me." He tapped the cleft in his chin then. "Sorry, Jelly, but you're going to have to try harder to find an excuse why you can't go to any of those colleges you got accepted to." Bash gave a rolling, exaggerated shrug of his wide shoulders. "In fact, I'm thinking that maybe there isn't one... and you'll just have to get an education and a future and all that."

Jillian glanced away guiltily. Shit, am I that obvious? After a second she sighed, then nearly grinned before she caught herself. No, no she wasn't. No one else seemed to catch on, just Bash. Just the man who'd never stopped holding her hand for the last twelve years. Of course he'd seen right through her.

That dumb smile came back again.

"We can't pay for it." Jillian shook her head. "It's easier if I give them an excuse."

Bash snorted. "Did you forget what year it is? No one can pay for college."

Jillian rolled her eyes. "Okay... but who wants to be in debt forever?"

Bash snorted. Again. He did that a lot. "Don't be a social art philosophy history major." He tapped a file on his desk that she knew was hers. "We both know you have options."

I don't want to leave you behind.

Nope. Not in a million years could Jillian say something so cringingly childish out loud. Instead, she settled for second place, which was its own kind of depressing. "My mom and dad... they kinda need me around. Kinda really need me around. Maybe they could... I dunno... talk to you?"

Weirdly, that did make Bash pause. His silence was so unusual that Jillian actually frowned in confusion, ready to say something. The counsellor took a deep breath then and shook his head. "Jelly, you can't worry about... about them. Their mistakes..." He came back around and put his hand on her shoulder again. "You have to do what's best for yourself." He grinned. "The rest will work itself out. No one needs me to make that happen."

Jillian could almost believe him if it wasn't for the fakest smile she'd ever seen. What the hell is that about? She didn't like it. It was almost like he was lying to her, and he never lied to her. She knew it. "Bash?" She blinked. What could she say? 'What are you hiding from me?' What was the answer... that everything wouldn't work out? Jillian was suddenly lost. "Is... is everything okay?" It was the best she had right then.

Bash saw her unease, and at least it made that false grin disappear. "Jelly... I guess..." He sighed, and sighed big. "I'm gonna miss you. You're... special. I really mean that."

Jillian froze, and one memory came crashing home; the day she'd shown up to second grade after having begged--thrown a fit, really--her parents to let her dye her hair a vivid, neon green. She'd thought it'd make her look so magical, so... special. The other kids had been merciless, of course; kids were nothing if not cruel little monsters. But the most disheartening was the side-eyes she got from the faculty too; like she was one of those kinds of kids. The pigeon-holing began in earnest.

"Mint Jelly."

Those two words, though she hadn't known it then, were a rope thrown into her pit. Bash saw her in the hall and made his declaration out of the blue, accompanied by a very pleased and self-amused grin. When Jillian had just scrunched up her brows in confusion, he'd flicked the tip of her hair. "Looks like mint jelly. I love mint jelly... Jillian. Heh."

"Th... thank-you." It'd been all she could say.

"You're as welcome as you are lovely, young lady." He'd hesitated then. "You know... I like marmalade too. It's a kind of jelly." His eyes danced when he winked at her, then went on his way.

It took about a month before she showed up looking like an orange. From then on, through every exotic dye-job of her naturally golden hair, she was Jelly, and Bash was her biggest cheerleader. Hell, he'd even intervened on her behalf to get an exception for hair and a few other things into the uniform rules. Everyone still had to wear the lame outfits, but after what Bash and Jelly got done, the students could at least be somewhat expressive. That went a long way towards her making some real friends.

It'd been rough to see the disappointed look on his face when, in tenth grade, she said that the nickname was too cutesy. Of course, looking back, her case was a bit undercut having come from behind some nice, strawberry-red tresses. Still, Bash had immediately adjusted himself and set about treating her like a proper grown-up.

Until today. Until right then. Until his sudden melancholy.

Until he called her special.

Now she wanted to be Jelly again, and for the rest of her life.

Face burning, Jillian shot to her feet, dislodging the strong, comforting fingers on her shoulder. "Gotta go!" She swiped at her eyes before she turned away. "I'm already... it's late... mom'll wonder..." Not true and didn't matter. She had to leave. Needed to.

Bash didn't make a peep as she fled. Coincidentally, after she got home, Jillian made it all the way into her bedroom without her mom or dad making one either.

No. The peeping came later.

__________

Tami swiped away a stray lock of blonde hair to wipe the sweat from her brow with a towel as she turned off the TV. An hour of aerobics only produced a light sheen; nothing like what came from the bloc she spent in the gym earlier that day. She chuckled to herself as she made her way to her bedroom, patting her washboard abs proudly. Pays the bills...

She hesitated briefly, frowning. If someone could read her mind, that thought would have made her seem like a prostitute, not a personal trainer. Problem was, Tami was in the midst of one of her rare moments of clarity.

Trainer? Me and the owner both know I'm there as eye-candy for the men, and false advertising for the middle-aged women. Her painted-on booty shorts and suspiciously ineffectual sports bras were more than enough evidence of how she actually earned her salary. That she'd been dedicated to a look-but-don't-touch directive at this gym only partially negated the whole prostitute label. In the end, she was selling her body, no two ways about it.

After that little time out, though, Tami shrugged. Who cared? She was basically a model, and no one called them hookers, or whatever. Jillian had a roof over her head, and Chad... well, Chad never said anything. He knew the deal. Her husband did what he had to, and so did she. If there was a little niggle in the back of her head, one that'd been there for years and years... well, so what?

Fuck it.

"Jillian?" Tami knocked on her daughter's bedroom door when she heard a noise from inside. "Honey? When did you get home?"

The sudden lack of all noise for a good thirty seconds told Tami that Jillian was in a mood, and she sighed. Dammit, it's Wednesday. What the hell? Usually the girl was a lot better on the weekdays. Great, in fact. Like an actual happy kid. It was the weekends that were reserved for the teenage angst. In yet another rare moment, Tami closed her eyes and gently rested her head on the closed door, feeling suddenly exasperated.

This isn't how it was supposed to be.

The sound of footsteps gave her enough warning to pull away and keep from falling on her face when Jillian opened the door. "Uh... hey mom. Yeah, I got home an hour ago, and you guys didn't..." The girl just shrugged. "Never mind. Anyway... um... here." She held out a piece of paper to her mother. Tami took it, and while she was scanning it, Jillian scratched her head, sheepishly. "I kinda did stuff that kinda pissed people off--"

"You're suspended?" Tami's own green eyes flew wide open in outrage, and Jillian gasped. She actually, audibly gasped, like a cartoon character. "How the hell can something like this happen? Is this going to keep you from graduating?"

"Mom?" Jillian looked just so, so confused, but Tami found herself unable to unclench even a little bit. "It's not all that--"

"It is all that." Tami fumed and started shaking that piece of paper furiously. "What happened to that guy you know? The secretary that you said is nice. Why didn't he do something about this?"

"Sec..." Jillian just shook her head. "You mean, Bash? Mom, he's a guidance counsellor. I've told you that like a million--"

Tami snorted. "Bash. The hell kind of name..." She trailed off, then settled herself. "I want to talk to him with you. Tomorrow. If he's a guidance counsellor, he'll have visiting hours, right?"

"Visiting hours? He's not in a hospital, mom." Jillian threw a hand out and waved it dramatically. "And why, after almost twelve full years of me going to the same school, do you suddenly want to meet him? You never did before! Fuck, I can count on one hand the number of times you even met with my teachers!"

"Language." Tami gave the admonishment absently, as she was barely even hearing her daughter's words, having decided enough was enough. "Chad!" She bellowed down the stairs to announce her impending arrival. "We need to talk!" If she'd had a mind to look, she would have seen Jillian's exasperated face-palm as she trailed behind her mother.

"Sorry, dad." Jillian got her message out first as she and Tami emerged into the man of the house's oasis. His special space away from it all. Chad looked up at the two women in his life like a trap had suddenly been sprung on him.

His tall, fit frame eased back in his desk chair warily, away from the computer he'd been tapping away on, and he shifted his face between his wife and daughter while running a hand through his own pale hair. "Okay... so what's this all about?"

Suspended. Future ruined. Death and despair. It all came tumbling out at once, despite how hard Tami tried to calm herself and stay focused. She had a problem with jumbling emotions--and how!--that seemed to always end tragically. Or at least semi-tragically. Even if the stakes in this instance were relatively low, she still felt like she'd failed herself yet again at seeing her husband barely stop from rolling his eyes at her. Dammit, this means something. Something has to mean something.

"Tami..." Chad spread his arms in a helpless gesture. "What's done is done. Jillian will be fine... right, honey?" At a bare nod from his daughter, the man raised his brows expectantly. "See? No need to stir the pot. We can't go back in time."

Tami stared at Chad, then shook her head once. "I see." Suddenly, it was like a fog got blown away from in-between her ears, and she looked over at her daughter like she was seeing the girl for the first time in years. "Jillian... tomorrow. You, me, and... Bash. I need to find out why this happened." Not a question. Not a suggestion. It was past time for this.

Jillian must have figured that this was just the latest in whims from her mom, and the cold finality of Tami's statement visibly took her by surprise. "Uh... okay. He's open... we can... um..." She stammered, then blinked. "4:00?"

To the side, Chad made a pleased noise, like it was all said and done. Tami just nodded, already preparing herself for the confrontation with the man who'd failed her daughter.

Past time... and hopefully not too late.

__________

Jillian couldn't stop playing with her hair, curling the--as of two days ago--purple locks around a finger and tugging again and again. "Mom... please, I... I really like this guy." When Tami abruptly froze outside the office door and gave her daughter a wide-eyed look of concern, Jillian felt her face flush, incensed. "Jesus, not like that! God, mom, he doesn't have a perverted bone... well, you know what I mean. And he's like... old. Cool, but, really, really..." She stopped under the glare of the woman who was pretty much the same age. "Anyway, please be nice. I still don't know why you want to talk to him all of a sudden, but he doesn't know you're coming, so don't go on the attack or anything. Please, again. Uh... thanks?"

Jillian didn't know how to deal with this; her mom actually giving a fuck about her life outside the house. She knew her mom loved her, she did, and the feeling was honestly returned, but the woman had always been so... so... out to lunch. Like, half in another world. This kind of vim was brand spanking new, and the confused eighteen-year-old had no tools to deal with it.

She suppressed a smile then. Bash'll handle it, easy. He always knows what to say.

Which was good, because her mom, apparently, either hadn't heard or hadn't cared about her plea for calm, which was shown quite clearly the second the office door was flung open.

"Okay, buddy, can you tell me why the hell you let my daughter get suspended for some of the dumbest reasons I've ever... ever..."

Tami stopped short the second that Bash looked up from his computer monitor. Jillian, mouth already open to apologize, choked on the words when she saw the look on her friend's face; like he'd been punched in the gut. That moment lingered, and Jillian was only aware that no one had said anything until her mom finally broke the silence.

"Bastian."

Bash closed his eyes, let out a breath, then steeled himself. "Tami. Good to see you again."

"It is?" Jillian's mom sounded like she was being lied to, and her voice was barely more than a whisper. Beyond that, she was still frozen, like she'd forgotten how to move. "It's... you?"

Bash tilted his head. "What's me?" He looked over to Jillian then, and a little grin popped into existence for a heartbeat before it disappeared. "Oh. Right. I suppose... yeah, it's me."

Without being invited, without even seeming to know she did it, Tami plopped bonelessly down onto an empty chair, heedless of the wrinkles she was putting into that smart, professional skirt and blouse she'd very obviously taken great care in picking out for the meeting. The one that screamed, 'I'm dead serious.'

After yet another long second of staring at the woman, Bash finally acknowledged Jillian's presence. "Jelly..." For some reason, hearing that silly nickname made Tami almost choke. "...could you please give your mother and me some privacy?" He glanced at the heavily-breathing woman who was completely lost at sea in front of him. "We have a lot to talk about, and you... um... you're better off not hearing it." He held up a hand to forestall her, already knowing what she'd say. "Yet. I swear... you won't be in the dark forever."

Jillian was torn. She trusted Bash, but this was killing her. How did they know each other? When did they know each other? Nearly twelve years of her going to the academy without a meeting like this answered some of that... and birthed about a zillion new questions to go along with it. In the end, though, the teenager recognized that she couldn't be told anything until there was something to be told. Which was what Bash and her mom were about to figure out.

Somehow.

With more of that same trust, and a whole shit-ton of anxiety, Jillian just nodded and got up. She cast one look back at the frigid room, and, just before she closed the door behind her, she took a last glance at her mom, and realized that the woman had forgotten she'd even been in the room.

That really did nothing to help the anxiety.

__________

Tami didn't even know she'd bitten Bastian on his huge shoulder until she heard the grunt of pain roll out of his throat... then the grunt of satisfaction rattle from hers as he lifted one of her thighs--exposed under her smart, bunched-up little skirt--and finished slamming his cock into her all the way to the hilt. The brick wall of his office was rough on her back, so she was rough on his; raking her nails in a wide swath across the bunching muscles there. Even over his shirt--opened so she could feel his chest on her, but not discarded--she knew she'd left a mark.