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It frustrates Jackie when girls can’t see their own worth. Cuts deeper than she’s willing to admit. Maybe because she recognizes that flaw too intimately, buried under the layers of confidence she wears like armor. She’s hardly perfect when it comes to self-love, she knows that. But that doesn’t mean she’ll stand by and let the girls around her crumble under their own self-doubt.
Not on her watch. Not on her team. She’s the captain for a reason. Was trusted with the responsibility of molding these girls into the best, fiercest versions of themselves. Jackie takes that seriously, like it’s her personal mission to keep them whole, even when she struggles to keep herself together.
Jackie believes, truly, that honesty and compassion are the foundation of strength. She tells herself that every girl deserves to be so deeply in love with the best version of herself that she’d never settle for less. If they can’t see it yet, Jackie will fight tooth and nail to make sure they learn.
That’s why, when Misty talks about Ben, looking small and uncertain, clinging to the hope of something she can’t force into existence, Jackie doesn’t hesitate. Her voice is gentle as she says, “You deserve to be with somebody who really wants to be with you.”
She means it. Because Jackie knows better than most what it’s like to ache for someone who looks past you, who smiles at you like you’re just an afterthought. She knows the empty feeling, the gnawing jealousy, the creeping shame. She knows how it makes you desperate, crazy. How it can twist you into a person you don’t even recognize.
If she can spare Misty even a fraction of that hurt, she will. Even if, deep down, she’s still trying—and failing—to spare herself.
“Look,” Jackie says, suggesting the mirror. “You’re beautiful.”
Misty puts her glasses back on and reaches for the makeup case, her fingers brushing lightly against the polished edge. The mirror inside gleams under the daylight, clear and perfectly reflecting her face. She stares at it uncertainly, almost like she’s afraid to look too closely.
Jackie leans in and gently tilts the case, angling the mirror so Misty has no choice but to meet her own eyes.
Funny, how she’s never really seen Misty before, not like this. Never noticed the soft curves of her face, the stubborn glint in her eye, the way her hair, wild and untamed, frames her like a halo if you look at it in the right light.
Jackie knows how cruel people can be. She’s watched it happen day after day, how Misty gets mistreated, ignored, laughed at like she’s invisible or worse, some joke to fill the space. No one deserves that. Not even a girl who can be—if Jackie’s being honest—a little intense, a little too much sometimes.
Maybe that’s the tragedy of it. Maybe Misty had so much goodness inside her once, and the world just stomped it out before she had a chance to realize it. Jackie can see the cracks, the way Misty latches on to anyone who shows her a scrap of kindness, the way she clings, desperate and fierce. She projects all that hunger for love outward instead of finding it within herself.
It’s sad. Worrying. It makes Jackie’s heart ache in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
She knows she’s too late to undo all the damage, no pep talk could erase years of being treated like you didn’t matter. But she can try to patch up some of the wounds. She will.
She meets Misty’s wide eyes and says, quieter but with all the force she can muster, “You deserve to see what I see.”
Misty blinks, her expression shifting. Something shy and fragile blooming there. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice small but heavy with something that makes Jackie’s throat tighten. Gratitude. Hope.
Jackie offers her a lopsided smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, the old mattress sagging slightly under her weight.
Misty hesitates, bitting her bottom lip like she’s wrestling with herself. Then, she puts the case back on the bed and says, almost too quickly, “Can I ask you something else?”
Jackie nods, her smile widening just a little. “Yeah, of course.”
She leans forward a little, elbows resting casually on her knees, trying to make herself seem as unthreatening as possible. She knows Misty spooks easy, like a stray dog that’s been kicked one too many times.
Misty starts talking, “Would you–” then freezes, second-guessing herself. She shakes her head, laughing nervously. “Oh, forget it. It’s too much.”
Jackie keeps her voice soft, playful but sincere. “Hey, I’ve already done your makeup and your hair, so we’re basically at a sleepover,” she says. “You can ask me anything.”
Even though, deep down, a flicker of anxiety stirs in her gut, she means it. Because Jackie knows that sometimes the questions that are hardest to ask are also the ones you can’t unhear once they’ve been spoken.
Still, she holds Misty’s gaze steady, silently promising she won’t flinch. Whatever it is, she’s ready. Or at least, she hopes she is.
Misty’s the one to drop her gaze, her fingers fumbling to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. When she speaks, it’s barely more than a whisper, “Would you kiss me?”
Oh.
Jackie’s face twists in surprise, her whole body stilling. The question hangs between them, delicate and strange, like a balloon that might pop if she even breathes too hard. She presses her lips together, thinking slowly.
That’s not at all where I thought this was going, she muses, almost numbly. She’d braced herself for something about Ben, so, honestly, she’s relieved it isn’t about him. So tired of boy talk, of pretending it’s the only thing that matters. This... this is different. Unexpected, in a good way.
Jackie shifts slightly on the mattress, the old bed frame creaking under her. She looks at Misty, really looks and feels the weight of the question settle in her chest.
Apparently, Misty reads Jackie’s sudden silence, and the startled twist of her face, as rejection. Her eyes go wide, panicked, and she blurts out, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that, you know, I’ve never– and it’s hard–”
She stumbles over the words, flustered and desperate to take them back. Before she can spiral further, Jackie moves.
In one swift, instinctive motion, she reaches out, placing both hands firmly on Misty’s shoulders, grounding her. Then, Jackie leans in, cutting Misty off with a gentle press of their lips.
It’s nothing like Jackie expected, and everything she didn’t know she needed.
She’s always wanted to kiss someone with soft, tender lips. Someone smaller, more delicate than Jeff’s rough mouth and too-big hands. Of course, she’d always imagined it would be Shauna, with her secret smiles and reckless, betraying eyes. But surprisingly, somehow, she’s okay with it being Misty.
At first, it’s a little awkward. Misty’s glasses bump Jackie’s nose, and there’s a brief, fumbling moment where they both shift to find the right angle. New territory for both of them: Misty’s first kiss ever, Jackie’s first kiss with a girl.
Still, there’s something sweet about it. Relieving, same as breathing fresh air after being underwater for too long.
Jackie pulls back just slightly, her forehead almost resting against Misty’s, feeling her own heart hammer against her ribs. And for once, she doesn’t rush to overthink it. She just lets herself be here.
With Misty. With this new, strange feeling that doesn’t seem so scary after all.
So, Jackie closes the distance again.
Misty instantly lets out these soft, breathy little gasps against her mouth, and Jackie feels them like sparks across her skin. They’re cute, almost unbearably, and Jackie wants to hear more of them. She shifts closer, sliding her hands up into Misty’s hair, tangling her fingers gently through the messy strands.
Misty seems to understand the silent cue. She tilts her head, instinctively following Jackie’s lead, their mouths fitting together more easily now, like they’re figuring it out together, piece by piece.
It’s all soft, and cozy, and impossibly safe. Jackie feels like she’s floating, like she’s been lifted out of the dirty, broken world they’ve been trapped in and dropped somewhere lighter and better.
Who would’ve thought, Jackie marvels, almost laughing into the kiss, that Misty Quigley of all people would be the one to sweep me off my feet?
For all the shitness surrounding them—the danger, the food scarcity, the sheer unsafeness of the wilderness—somehow, against all odds, it still knows how to give back a little good. A little magic.
Jackie lets herself fall into it without fighting, all worries and fears forgotten.
When they finally break apart, it’s slow, like neither of them really wants to. Jackie lingers for a moment, her forehead resting against Misty’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Her hands slide back from Misty’s hair to her shoulders, just holding her there, steadying them both.
Misty’s eyes are wide behind her glasses, her cheeks flushed pink. She’s staring at Jackie like she’s just been handed the moon. Jackie swallows hard, suddenly aware of how quiet everything’s gotten. Just their breathing, the faint creak of the bed, people talking outside beyond the walls.
For a second, Jackie doesn’t know what to say. She’s not even sure what she’s feeling. There’s warmth, definitely. Surprise. Something fluttery and sweet lodged just beneath her ribs, beating softly like a secret. But also confusion, not about what she did, but about what it means.
Was it just practice? A harmless trial run in the name of kissing someone else someday? Or did it matter, to Misty, that it was Jackie kissing her? That maybe, hopefully, Ben could finally be replaced and forgotten?
Jackie doesn’t have the answers, isn’t even sure if she could ask for them out loud. She only knows she’s not sure she could ever let Shauna go, not fully. That ache still lives inside her, constant and unresolved.
But right now her mind is all clouded and she can only think about Misty.
Misty’s the one to speak first, “Was that okay?”
Jackie blinks, caught off guard by how vulnerable she sounds. She lets out a quiet breath, something close to a laugh. “It was more than okay.”
Strangely, it really was. It made her feel wanted. In a way that didn’t feel performative. It was fresh.
She looks at Misty and no longer sees the weird girl everyone picks on, the clingy outsider. She sees someone brave enough to ask for what she wants. Someone kind enough to make Jackie feel safe, even if unaware.
“Do you feel weird?” Misty asks, already pulling into herself a little, like she’s bracing for the answer.
Jackie considers that. Then shakes her head. “I feel...” She searches for the right word. “better.”
Misty smiles at that. A real smile, small, but so full of light it makes Jackie’s chest ache a little. Like she just gave Misty a gift.
“You do?” Misty whispers, like she’s afraid saying it too loud will shatter the moment.
Jackie nods. “Yeah.”
There’s a pause, not awkward, just quiet, and Jackie lets it settle between them. The bed creaks slightly as she shifts, her knees still angled toward Misty. She catches herself studying the curve of Misty’s cheek, the way her glasses sit just slightly crooked now. She almost reaches out to fix them, then decides against it. It feels too tender.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Misty says, almost to herself.
Jackie shrugs one shoulder, trying to sound breezy, but her voice is softer than she expects. “I didn’t think I would either.”
They both let out a laugh, low and surprised, like they’re coming down from a high they didn’t realize they were riding.
Then Misty asks, cautious: “Do you... regret it?”
Jackie opens her mouth. Closes it. Looks down at her hands in her lap before answering. “No,” she says finally. “I don’t.”
And maybe that’s what surprises her most, the honesty of it. She doesn’t regret it. Not even a little.
A knock startles them both, sharp and sudden against the doorframe.
“Misty?” Mari’s voice cuts through the quiet. “We need help with the food. Come on.”
Jackie jolts slightly, blinking as the moment shatters like thin glass. Misty straightens fast, already pulling away, her hand brushing nervously at her jeans as she stands.
“I–I should go,” she mutters, not quite meeting Jackie’s eyes.
Jackie wants to say something. To ask her to stay. But the words don’t come.
Misty’s already halfway to the door by the time Jackie speaks a quit, “Okay.”
Then she’s gone, the door creaking shut behind her. The room feels colder without her.
Jackie stays frozen there for a minute, staring at the spot where Misty had been.
The spell is broken, but something inside her still buzzes, unsettled and restless.
She knows she should get up, should throw herself back into the plan she’d been nursing all day. The one where she went after Travis, let him look at her the way Shauna wouldn’t. The one where she took control of something, anything.
But somehow, she can’t make herself move. The anger at Shauna is still there, a low simmer in her gut, and kissing Misty—sweet as it was—hadn’t been enough to quiet it. Hadn’t filled the void inside her.
Still, the thought of seeking Travis out after that, of forcing something just to feel wanted... it turns her stomach.
So for the time being, she just sits there on the sagging bed, staring at the door Misty slipped through, feeling more confused and alone than ever.