Loglet: Jennie - A Day In The Life

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So what's life like outside the mansion for one of the graduates?




The sky was overcast that day, high steel grey clouds blotted out the pale wintry sun. Some people would be brought down by the lack of sunlight, but not Jennie. For someone who had grown up in a desert where sunny days were all the days that ended in "y," cloudy days were still a little thrilling. It was a testament to her personality these days that cloudy days seemed to cheer her up.

"Good morning Jennie," the cashier said as Jennie slid into the small convenience store just a few blocks from her university. It was the first one off her subway stop, and it had become routine to stop there for pre-dance supplies. She plunked a bottle of water of the counter and few Emergen-C packets, along with a thing of gum.

"Hey Ken," Jennie gave the cashier a small smile as he pulled down a packet of cigarettes down and put them on the counter in front of her other purchases. "However did you guess?"

"It's Monday," his grin was much larger and showed his chipped front tooth.

"Why, you would think I come in here a lot or something," she said, pulling out exact change and laying on the counter before putting the water and gum in her shoulder bag, stuffing the packet of cigarettes in the front pocket.

"You are the best part of my day," replied Ken, teasingly. Ken was also pushing 70 and probably said this to all of younger female regulars.

"Aw, you're such a sweetie," Jennie replied. Once she would have teased or flirted with the septuagenarian cashier mercilessly, but now her replies seemed mechanical. Jennie was finding it difficult to dredge up the care necessary for such things. Pleasure was hard to come by. Sure, there were times when she felt proud, like when she did well in a DR run or received a good grade. But usually her days were nothing more than a routine to her. She even rarely had sex anymore, finding it boring and too much effort.

"Ta, Ken, see you Wednesday," she gave him a little wave, before zipping up her jacket and pushing out into the street.

Once outside, she lit up a cigarette and drew in a lungful, letting the smoke burn her throat. She'd started back up during the summer, when the nightmares had been at their worst. She'd promised herself that she would quit once she could sleep through the night. But now that she could, she didn't feel so inclined to giving it up just yet. Besides, no one knew about it anyway. No harm, no foul. Plus there was the added bonus of keeping her warm on brisk winter days.

She stuck in her earphones, throwing a a glance at the sky the same color as the concrete beneath her feet, and began the march up the few blocks to her class.

----

"So then he says, like, 'I just don't feel like talking about it,' and I just lost it. I mean, Charlie is awesome in everything else. He can talk for hours and hours about things like zen philosophy, middle eastern politics, hell, even the latest independent movies, but when it comes to personal stuff about him? All I get is a shrug," Marnie blew her bangs out of her eyes with a frustrated sigh and turned to the side, stretching her other calf.

"Dude, seriously, dump him," Jennie mirrored her friend's movements. "I mean, the guy has obvious communication issues. If he's not giving you what you want, find someone else."

Both girls had met their first day in Ballet 201, and bonded immediately as they were the only girls who did not look like the waif-like wannabe prima ballerinas. Jennie with her increasing number of tattoos and brutal honesty and Marnie with her large frame and penchant for saying whatever was on her mind at that exact moment. They watched each other's backs against the more heinous of the bitches, and in exchange for Marnie covering whenever Jennie had a "health issue" or "Family emergency," Jennie would offer her sound advice on Marnie's extremely complex love life. Jennie unfortunately only had two answers to every problem, which were "dump his ass" and "fuck him and see if it's worth it."

"It's different," Marnie snorted. "I don't know that you'd understand, Jennie."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jennie moved to her other side, stretching out the muscles in her thighs and stomach.

"Like, you're all about having unattached sex, right? I'm more about sex that's more than just sex."

"Just because I prefer as few complications in my life as humanly possible, does not mean I don't understand about things like that," Jennie moved the stretch to the other side, bending her arms out gracefully in front of her. "If a guy can't tell you what he's thinking, even if it's about a freaking sandwich he just ate, then what happens when the heavy shit goes down?"

"I just don't know," Marnie sighed. "I mean, he's so good in everything else."

"You just gotta ask yourself is it worth it?" Jennie added as she began the first of their warm-up exercises, moving through their forms mechanically, as she could now do every movement in her sleep. "I mean, what will he do when something bad happens, like to him even? Support goes both ways, and how can you feel like you can trust someone when they don't even trust you?"

"I never thought of it like that," Marnie said, nodding. Her movements were a little more enthusiastic than her friend's.

"Like, look at me. I am not a bastion of healthy interpersonal relationships, this I will be the first to admit, but I know what I want and what I need, and I get it, end of story." Jennie shrugged.

"Even if it's just meaningless sex," Marnie retorted.

"I keep telling you, meaningless sex is the way to go. You get what you want without all of the douchebaggery afterwards," Jennie said with an evil little smile.

"You may be able to subsist on the sexual equivalent of cheetos, but I need something more substantial, you know?" Marnie sighed.

"But I like cheetos," Jennie said. "And just because I have cheetos all the time doesn't mean I don't get the other essential parts of my diet through other means. But you, my dear, need more protein. Definitely. A variety even. Hot, tasty protein. Mmmmmm. Yummy."

"Oh God, Jennie," Marnie moaned. "Why did you have to go there?"

"Because it makes you all red," Jennie replied cheerfully. It was at this time their dance professor noticed the chatter from the corner of the room, and barked at the girls to remain silent. Both dutifully faced the mirror and began to work through their practiced choreography for the remainder of the class.

----

Later she sat on the wooden bench in the changing room, rubbing her feet and poking experimentally at a blister on her big toe and trying to decide if it was worth popping or not. Marnie was still waxing poetic about Charlie and brushing her wavy brown hair. Jennie was only half-listening, making the right "uh-hmm" noises at all the correct intervals, when a heavy messenger bag connected with the side of her head. Jennie almost fell off the bench and grabbed the side of her head in pain.

"Ow, what the FUCK?" she snarled, looking up at the culprit. Whitney Ford, five-feet-eight-inches of tall, blonde, willowy grace, gave Jennie a wide-eyed look.

"Oh Jennie honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you! God, I'm just banging into you all over the place. Wherever I go, there you are!" Whitney had the kind of beauty frantic love poems were written about and then hidden in a drawer. Her personality brought most would-be Lord Byrons back to earth, however. The most heinous of the heinous bitches, Whitney never lost an opportunity to express her displeasure with the fact that Jennie breathed the same air that she did. Her best friend Madison Raya was a darker-haired version of her, and what was worse, also shared an English class with Jennie. Listening to Madison whine about the "pseudo-feminist bullshit" they had to read every week was usually a low point of Jennie's day.

Madison and Whitney had just snagged plum roles in the spring dance show, while Jennie had been relegated to general ensemble. She'd missed the auditions due to other commitments. The kind that were unavoidable. So it wasn't too big of a sacrifice. Still, if the girls became any more insufferable Jennie was going to find it hard to not have a power "oops."

"Whitney, totally not in the mood today," Jennie snapped, rubbing her head. "So let's not play the pretend, ha-ha, oh silly me I just clocked you accidentally on purpose bullshit, n'kay?"

Madison giggled and mimicked Jennie's "N'kay" in a higher-pitched voice. Jennie didn't know why, but that absolutely infuriated her every time that happened.

"Sorry Jennie," Whitney said again with a smile that said she wasn't. "Try not to miss rehearsals this week, we don't like being held after because somebody can't bother to show up on time. It's not like the rehearsal schedule is posted on Bill Evans' door or anything. I'm surprised you haven't seen it."

"I'm surprised you can find someone to read it to you," Jennie replied innocently.

Marnie snorted while Whitney's eyes narrowed.

"You know, Bill's been questioning your dedication lately. I'd be careful if I were you, or you might find yourself cut," the blonde girl sniffed. She and her friend turned and left the locker room, bags slung over their shoulders. They almost knocked over a girl with long brown hair and glasses on the way out. The girl muttered an apology, but they didn't even seem to notice her.

"Well, lahdee-frickin-da," Jennie made a rude gesture after the two girls.

"You know, it's not fair. All that grace and talent, and they're both completely worthless human beings," Marnie said with her fists on her hips.

"Bill's been questioning your dedication lately," Jennie mocked in a nasal sing-song. "Since when is Whitney Ford on a first-name basis with the head of the dance department?"

"I would say since she started fucking him, but since she lacks his preferred genitalia, I would sincerely doubt that," Marnie shut her locker and sat down next to Jennie. Jennie pulled on her socks, noting sourly that they didn't match.

"I'm sorry that this stupid little show is not the center of my universe," Jennie sighed, trying not to fixate on her socks and forcing herself to put on her shoes. "I do have more important things in my life."

"And one of these days, you're going to tell me what they are," Marnie said mischievously, bumping Jennie with a shoulder.

"One of these days," Jennie promised.

"So? After class coffee?" Marnie got off the bench and stretched.

"But of course," Jennie affected a French accent and extended a hand, letting the larger girl pull her to her feet. Once upon a time, a girl like Whitney Ford would have found herself at the hands of a severe beating applied by Jennie, or at very least a nasty prank. But Jennie couldn't seem to dredge up the care for it. It just wasn't really worth it. Jennie rarely seemed to feel anything beyond numb these days.

And that was just the way she wanted it.