Sarah McMillan, after a flurry of confusion and shouting in the school's clinic, and subsequently its front office, was mercifully and justifiably allowed to leave school early that day. She was given a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie to change into, which, when the hood was properly utilized and combined with a pair of wide-framed sunglasses she already had on her person, served to obscure both her new appendage and her identity. And as she had driven to school in the morning, she could simply drive herself home without involving her parents.
Which, from Sarah's perspective, was the last thing she needed. It wasn't like either of them were planning to be home that night, anyway.
And so it was that Sarah McMillan arrived home, retreated to her bedroom, and shielded herself from the world within the pink, downy confines of several blankets, not even bothering to remove the borrowed hoodie and sweatpants.
She remained that way, just staring out into the distance, finding some speck on her bedroom wall to focus on, for several hours before the doorbell broke her out of her spell.
No. Nope. Sarah McMillan was not going to be seen like this. Eventually, whoever was at the door would go away.
Another ring.
Sarah found her wall speck again.
Her phone buzzed. Text message from Big Man Biff. "It's me at the door, babe. I just want to make sure you're okay."
Sarah let out a sigh. Biff was the one person on the entire planet that she might have even considered wanting to see in that moment: somehow, no matter what was happening, he always seemed unfazed, always confident and in control. Like some naive boyscout. Sometimes it was a little sickening, but if Sarah was being honest with herself, that's exactly what she needed right in that moment.
And her legs decided that she should be honest with herself.
Without replying to the text message, Sarah slid off of her bed and padded her way to the front door. She had hardly opened it before she was completely wrapped up in the embrace of Lakepoint High School's starting quarterback, her boyfriend, Biff Meadows.
Yes, this was exactly what Sarah needed.
"I didn't get the whole story, babe," he intoned into the crown of her head as she melted into his chest, "and if you don't want to tell me the whole story, that's okay. And if you want me to leave, that's also okay. But I want you to know that I'm by your side, no matter what."
A smile formed on Sarah's lips for the first time since gym class. Despite his words, she knew Biff wouldn't leave her even if she asked him to. He'd weasel his way into making it sound like she wanted him to stay, and usually she'd eventually even agree. But Biff was lucky today: Sarah didn't want to have that verbal tête-à-tête today, and she did want Biff with her. She needed physical affection, and here was Biff. So once he released her from his bear hug, he stepped all the way into the house and lead her by the hand, as if it was his house, into the living room.
And for about half of the way, Sarah blindly followed. But as they passed the staircase, a feeling came over the cheerleader that was welcome, but unfamiliar. It was as though shame was no longer an emotion she recognized. Like if she was persistent enough she could force her opinion without the need for her usual manipulations. And more than that, that she deserved to have her opinion followed, because that was just the natural order of things.
And so Sarah stopped, tugged Biff's arm slightly, and said "No, babe, we're going upstairs to my room."
Had Sarah ever called Biff 'babe' before? The word felt unfamiliar, but comfortable, on her lips.
"I thought we were going to sit on the sofa and talk," the football player turned to face his girlfriend.
"I never said that, babe." There it was again. It just felt natural to call her boyfriend 'babe.' She squared up her posture and swung around Biff, putting her arm across his back to guide him towards the stairs. "Come on, this is where we're going."
Sarah's voice seemed to hold such authority that, despite himself, Biff found himself a little cowed by it. What was this feeling? He was always in control of whatever situation he was in, but now, right in this moment, he'd ceded control to Sarah. He wanted to cede control to Sarah. As they took their first few steps upwards, Biff felt Sarah's arm slide down his back, felt her hand place itself firmly on his butt cheek, felt her give him a firm squeeze. And, lord help him, it felt good to just let her.
