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The lead-up to the premiere of Workin’ Girls has been an excruciating experience. Ruth has spent long days and nights at the Starlight Theater, cramming all of her hopes and dreams and anxieties into this amateur musical.
Her grades are dropping. Sure, Ruth is doing well enough that the beginning of April to the beginning of May in her senior year isn’t going to stop her from graduating, but come on! She’s been getting Ds, can barely stay awake in class, and is even crankier and hornier than she is usually.
Pete is sick of it. He knows Ruth. She’s going to fuck this up and she’s going to embarrass herself in front of everyone there and then she’s going to cry about it. Everyone else is going to be mean to her for valid reasons and he’s going to have to do the awkward, insincere “oh no, it’s okay! You did great!” or else he’s a jerk. So no, he’s not shelling out twenty dollars to see Ruth’s social suicide. Pete told her and Richie that he’s not coming, and he’s sticking to that.
He. Is. Not. Coming. He made it clear weeks ago that he thinks this is a bad idea that's just going to get Ruth hurt and he's not supporting it. Today, he's just going to stay huddled in his bedroom and play as much Jedi: Fallen Order as he can manage.
His phone buzzes, so Pete checks it quickly. He'd hate to ignore a real emergency just to spite Richie. Pete should have ignored it; it is, in fact, just a bitchy text from his best friend.
Rich Bitch
really not coming? fucking typical
Pete
Dude. I told you I wasn’t coming weeks ago
Rich Bitch
I was hoping you’d stop being the WORST
Pete reacts with a thumbs down and hopes that ends the conversation.
Then, he goes right back to Cal Kestis and his holocron adventures. His phone buzzes. Again.
“I swear to god, Richie!” Pete mutters. He grabs his phone to make sure that nothing’s wrong, and sees a text from a different number.
Ted
where r u?
Pete
… In my room?
Ted sends a picture of Richie sitting in the house of the Starlight Theater captioned: thought you and hawaiian shirt kid were attached at the hip?
Pete
We aren’t.
Ted
AND headgears in this!?!?!? y the fuck aren't u here?!?!?!
He sends a picture of Ruth’s section of the program. Oh god, Richie actually helped her photoshop it to show- Pete deletes the picture from his chat immediately, but he can never delete it from his memories.
Pete
Jesus Christ, dude. That’s more of Ruth than I ever wanted to see.
Ted
cmon, seeing a pair of tits wont kill you
Pete
Seeing Ruth's might.
Ted
i think she likes ME better since IM looking at her tits right now
Pete
Perv.
Ted
your just jelly she likes me better now! cuz im seeing the hooker show
Pete
It’s not about hookers!
Ted
no its totally about hookers
Pete
Are you there alone?
Ted
no???
Pete
Ask whoever you’re with if it’s about hookers. I dare you.
A few blissful moments of nothing. Then- Ted is typing Ted is typing Ted is typing-
Ted
okay well billiam says its not about hookers but hes a boring prude so- ITS ABOUT HOOKERS
Pete
Whatever, Ted.
Ted
curtains closing, gtg!
Pete sets his phone down and goes back to his gaming. If he really starts grinding today, he can replay the Darth Vader fight before the end of the weekend. That's the only thing he's excited about this weekend, but it's better than nothing.
About an hour later, his phone vibrates again.
Ted
U WERE RITE BRO
Pete
?
Ted
ur gf shat the bed
Pete white knuckles his comforter. He knows Ted just calls Ruth that to get a rise out of him, and he’s not going to let him. Pete is not a five year old that gets upset when Ted pretends he doesn’t know how to say the names of Star Wars characters anymore. He’s not! He can stay cool and collected through this. He can be mature.
Ted
u shoulda come tho. a bita that spankoffski charm mighta helped her remember that one line
Pete tries not to rise to his brother’s bait, but he’s not a saint.
Pete
She’s NOT my girlfriend, Ted!
He has a minute to stew in his frustrations before the next text comes through.
Ted
were the “she SHOULD be ur girl” club
Pete frowns at his phone as he pulls up the picture his brother sent. That’s Ted with his signature shit-eating grin, Richie throwing up a peace-sign, but the third person is-
Pete
GRACE CHASTITY!?!?!?!
Grace Chastity? Who thinks dating before marriage is a sin? There’s no way that she would willingly be in a selfie with Ted, especially one he labeled the “Ruth should be your girl” club.
Ted
is that her name? thot it was ruths 2nd bff
ya know! cuz she came and u didnt
Pete
I thought you said Ruth sucked?
Ted
oooh yah, totes. just givin you shit, kid. this other weirdo DOES think you could “turn ruth straight” and get her into heaven, tho, so. don’t ever say i’m the least woke person u know again. cuz im not!
Pete
Dude.
Ted
ITS THIS BITCH
Pete
I think intermission is over, man.
Ted
ssshhhhh, ur not hanging up. IM hanging up. gtg byyeeeeee
Pete goes back to his video game. He builds up his skill tree and he changes the color of Cal’s poncho and he inches closer and closer to that final match-up where he physically can’t beat Vader. (Now that’s good video game storytelling if he’s ever seen it.)
His phone doesn't vibrate again for another... long duration of game, actually. When it starts buzzing, it keeps on going the way that it does for a call. He pauses his game and grabs his phone. The call is from an unknown number, so normally that would mean it’s a robocall, a scam, or both. The number starts with Hatchetfield’s area code, though, and Pete hasn’t gotten a text from Ruth, Richie, or Ted since Act II started. It’s been two hours since that, now. The show should be over. They should be flooding him with notifications about what a dick he is for not coming and how he owes Ruth ice cream for it.
Reluctantly, Pete answers the phone call.
“Hello?” he asks cautiously.
A commanding woman’s voice comes through his phone. “Is this Peter Spankoffski?”
“Who’s asking?” he asks, trying to sound unflappable. Mainly he just sounds like a whiny brat.
“This is Detective Shapiro with the Hatchetfield Police Department,” she says firmly.
“Oh,” he responds, “yes! I’m Peter Spankoffski!” He does not want to piss off a cop. The police in this town are corrupt as a bootleg of the Star Wars Holiday Special straight from the original VHS.
“I tried to call both of your parents before you,” she says, “can you get either of them on the phone with me?”
“Uh,” Peter says, “I would, if they weren’t in Atlantic City? ” This is the third time they’ve been down since New Years. Fuck, the way he said was probably rude.
“Sorry!” he adds, hoping that fixes it.
The detective lets out a long sigh. “That’s… unfortunate. I wanted to speak with them first.”
“Are they in trouble?” Pete asks cautiously.
“No,” Shapiro says, “should they be?”
Pete giggles. “No! Of course not!” If his parents act like the fucking Wormwoods from Matilda , that’s between them and the elders at Lakeside Presbyterian Church. He’s just got two months before he turns eighteen, thankyouverymuch. He can’t afford to have his parents sent to jail when he’s this close to college.
“Uh huh,” Shapiro says.
Pete tries not to breathe too nervously over the phone. God, he feels like Ruth. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, kid,” she says, “it’s just- this is something really unpleasant, and I was hoping one of your parents could deliver the news since you’re a minor. It mighta hit a bit easier that way."
Pete feels his stomach drop. “What happened?”
“This is gonna be hard to believe in a little town like Hatchetfield,” Shapiro tells him, “but what happened today was worse than anything I ever saw as a cop in Chicago.”
That’s not reassuring. "What happened?"
Shapiro takes a deep breath and then starts by saying, "I am so sorry." After that, she delivers the news of what happened that day at the Starlight Theater. The news is gutting, and visceral, and awful- but how he reacts is not as important as what led up to that reaction.
We all knew the emotional aftermath would be horrible. Now, we have the specific context for the grief, with all the survivor's guilt and the shame and the could-have would-have should-haves all mixing together in his uneasy stomach. Dying loved ones can't always give their two weeks notice.