Title: Brown Paper Sack
Author:
heron_advocateFandom: Hey Arnold!
Pairing: Rhonda/Nadine
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I neither own Hey Arnold nor make any money off this.
Song Prompt: "The Way It Really Is" by Lisa Loeb
Word Count: 369
A/N: Written for the Bigass Femslash Lesbian Girllove Hey Arnold Fanmix! Hopefully this doesn't suck too much. D:
Nadine sits at the end of her lunch table, alone, with her lunch. It's a plain, brown, paper sack, same as every other day. She glances over to where Rhonda's sitting a few tables over, chatting animatedly with a group of seniors. On the table in front of her is her custom-made lunch sack. Nadine isn't sure what it's made of, but she thinks it's silk - or something equally extravagant. The words "Rhonda Wellington Lloyd" are embroidered on the front of it in curly, large print.
Rhonda never sits with her at lunch, Nadine sadly reflects, sighing as she digs out her lunch.
Peanut butter and jelly, plain potato chips, a cup of pudding, and a soda. Same as every other day. Nadine sighs again. Was this really the way things were supposed to be? Was it just her imagination, or was something terribly wrong?
---
"Aren't we best friends, Rhonda?"
"Of course we are, Nadine," Rhonda responds dismissively, studying her nails. "I'm just expanding my horizons, that's all. Daddy's always saying that it's not what you know, it's who you know. You understand, right?"
She finally looks up at Nadine, smiling that charming smile of hers (the one that makes all the male teachers melt into a puddle of goo). Nadine momentarily forgets that she's hurt (and that there's anyone else in the crowded cafeteria). She somehow manages to summon a smile in return.
"Yeah, I understand," she answers simply. Nadine wonders if Rhonda notices her superficial tone of understanding, but she doubts it.
"Good," Rhonda says, apparently satisfied that she's settled all of Nadine's doubts. "I'll see you later, then. We'll have to get together, okay?"
Nadine nods in response, but Rhonda is already gone.
---
Maybe it shouldn't bother me this much, Nadine thinks, glad that the bathroom is empty as she tries to erase all evidence of crying, but it does.
She stares at her reflection in the mirror, disgusted at herself for caring so much about something that had seemed to trivial to Rhonda.
Maybe that's how it was meant to be, she thought sadly. Rhonda and I don't belong together any more than her silken tote belongs with my brown paper sack.