Chapter One-Pushing Ahead of the Dames

If she says she can do it, then she can do it, she don't make false claims

But she's a queen and such are queens that your laughter is sucked in their brains

- David Bowie, "Queen Bitch"

"Carmela Largo," the professor called, squinting down at the list of students.

For the fourth time that day, she very patiently raised her hand and when acknowledged, she said, "I go by the name Amber."

"Duly noted, Miss Amber, thank you." The professor resumed roll call as normal, and Amber looked down at her desk in a daze, still tired from the previous night's events and too lost in the copy of Fight Club she was reading in a .pdf on her phone to care what anyone else's name was.

The tiny girl who sat in the desk in front of her, with black hair in an undercut, was tapping her foot gently, and the sound would have, on any other day, possibly annoyed her, but today the steady, quiet beat was keeping her grounded.

It was Friday, the last class of the last day of the first week of her sophomore year. She hated the repetitive, confusing way that sentence sounded in her mind, but she also didn't have the energy to phrase it any other way. She'd been living with her older brother Pavi and his eccentric roommates for the last couple of weeks, gradually moving things into the apartment that she would be sharing with one of his other friends, and tonight, she was going to be officially staying at the apartment her first night.

The new roomie's name was Magdalene, called Mag by those she was close to, and nicknamed "Blind Mag" among her peers because of her terrible eyesight, which she sometimes remedied with contact lenses, but she could typically be seen in large, black-framed glasses that drew even more attention to her massive blue eyes than usual. She was a Vocal Performance major, a little quiet and bookish at first, but Pavi chuckled and said that she tended to really open up once you got to know her. Amber wasn't sure if she considered that to be a good thing or not, as Pavi's friends were a little more "out there" than Amber was a fan of. However, Mag had a steady desk-job at a clinic and that seemed to be a good sign. Her half of the rent was guaranteed because of her father, and it seemed that Mag would easily be able to provide her portion of it.

Her nerves were getting worse, the more she thought about living on her own, without the protection of her father or her brothers, but she knew they would be a call away if she needed them- and besides, nothing sounded better than being away from her father. A summer living at home with him again, after having the taste of independence that the dorms had offered, had been absolutely miserable, and that she was ready to be away from.

Amber, you're my daughter and I love you, but you're terrible.

It was funny, so funny when Bob Belcher said it, but not so much when Rotti Largo, health insurance executive extraordinaire and shitty fucking excuse for a father said it to his motherless 19-year-old daughter. Luigi didn't think it was funny when she called him late at night sobbing. Pavi didn't think it was funny when she drank herself into a stupor each time Dad actually let her go over to his apartment. Her friends didn't think it was funny at all each time she lost contact with them because Dad took her phone away again-

Not gonna think about Dad, not gonna think about Dad, not gonna think about Dad…

Obviously this reading thing wasn't doing much to distract her from her pain, so she pulled out her notebook instead, turned to a blank page, and turned to one of the other things that brought her joy, sketching. Soon there was a face on her paper, and long dark hair curling around it, half a vicegrip and half a soothing warm scarf to protect that frail neck from the cold.

She drew a lot of characters, not so much by choice, more by accident. People were easier than landscapes and plants and animals, or at least to her. She always wondered who these people were that she drew, and if the fact that the same three nameless people graced her notebook constantly was some sign that she was a lunatic, but all she knew was that Rotti fucking Largo was not anywhere near this notebook, and that knowledge was enough.

When it was finally time to leave class, she stuffed her books into her backpack and her phone into her bra, fished her car keys out of her purse, and walked to the parking lot. Before getting inside, she checked the backseat to see how much stuff she still had to bring in, and she saw with relief that it was only the last four boxes of the World-Famous Amber Carmela Largo Sweet CD Collection, which could be handled and sorted onto her shelf in about 20 minutes, tops, which left plenty of time for lounging in bed, finishing what little reading homework she had, and then whatever the hell she wanted to do.

As she sat down in the driver's seat and checked her phone one last time before she started to drive, she saw a text from Luigi that she must have missed, and it simply read: Call me when you get out of your Lit class.

With a sigh, she dialed him and plugged the phone into the aux cord so she could drive in peace while they talked.

"Hello?"

"What do you want, brother dear?" she asked.

"You left all your Twenty One Pilots CDs at my apartment," he said matter-of-factly.

She sighed. That would explain why she hadn't been able to find Vessel the other night. "Shit. When did I do that?"

"It was like two days ago, I don't remember why you brought them over here, but they were on my coffee table and I figured you would want them back eventually. I'm going out to get groceries later, so I might come by and bring them to you, unless you were going out tonight or something."

"Going out the first weekend of school starting back sounds miserable, so no, definitely not doing that. I'm just gonna finish organizing the World-Famous Amber Carmela Largo Sweet CD Collection, which that's not gonna take long, then I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want for the rest of the night."

"What an ambitious plan. Remind me your address again?"

"It's 237 Zdunich Lane."

"That's the worst street name I've ever heard. What apartment number?"

"17. It's the one with the cacti outside the door."

"Okay. I miiight stop by later tonight. See you later, maybe."

"Mmmhmm." She hung up, and made the last two minutes of the drive to her apartment in silence, lacking even the energy to press play on the car stereo and listen to the mix she'd made last week that sat waiting to be played. Since she didn't spend much time in the car during the school year, she realized she hadn't even played it all the way through once yet.

When she got to the apartment, she turned the door handle out of habit as she dug for the keys and she noticed with some surprise that the door had been left unlocked- she had only met Mag a few times, but she didn't seem like the type that would leave the door open. She felt a sting of guilt, remembering that she'd brought her desk lamp here before her 9 a.m., meaning it had probably been her own careless mistake. She'd have to be more careful next time.

She went into her room, carrying the first of the boxes, and nudged the light switch with her elbow.

"Surprise, motherfucker!"

She nearly dropped the box in absolute shock. Luigi sprang up from her bed, and Pavi somersaulted out from the bathroom (fucking showoff), both of them throwing handfuls of glitter.

"W-what the...what the absolute fuck?" she demanded, hugging T-U of the World-Famous Amber Carmela Largo Sweet CD Collection to her chest as if the music could protect her from her own less-than-trustworthy siblings.

"We're throwing you a surprise housewarming party!" the Pavi insisted with a flourish.

"And we brought some good stuff!" Luigi motioned to the desk, where several bottles of wine and hard liquor were accompanied by three glasses and a small ice bucket.

She let out a laugh, but she wasn't sure if it was out of relief that her apartment had not in fact been broken into, or amusement at her brothers' antics.

"We told Mag, and she let us in on the secret location of the spare key, but as it happens, somebody left the door unlocked this morning," Pavi pointed out with a theatrical emphasis on all the right words, shooting Amber a suggestive look as he poured himself a glass of Chardonnay.

"You should really be careful about that; you never know what weirdos are just going to waltz into your apartment and set up camp in your bedroom." Luigi took the box from her hands, gave her a playful kiss on the forehead, and started to arrange them on the bookshelf by the door, almost as carefully as she herself would have.

Between the two of them, the WFACLSCC was quick work, ten minutes at the most. Pavi offered his help, but two of them working at the bookshelf was already a little crowded, and he didn't have the kind of detail-oriented eye that was necessary for the careful art of CD arranging. When they were finished, the three Largoes played a vicious game of Cards Against Humanity, with especially high stakes- winner got to pick the movie they would watch. Pavi was staunchly advocating a Julia Roberts marathon, Luigi wanted desperately to make his younger siblings understand the greatness of Rocky, and Amber just wanted to sing along to RENT.

Well, the three Largoes tried to play a vicious game of Cards Against Humanity.

Pavi got a little too drunk too quickly, and refused to play by the proper rules of the game, blurting out answers to all of the black cards instead of actually using the cards in his hand. After thirty minutes, Luigi and Amber gave up, and she conceded victory to Luigi, who at first felt guilty and promised she could watch RENT if she wanted to, but she insisted that he could pick, as she could watch RENT at any time. With an absurd, victorious grin, Luigi jumped over to her DVD stack, put in Rocky, and settled into Amber's beanbag chair with a grin.

They watched the movie in peace for a few minutes, as Amber worked on a huge glass of Jack and Coke. Pavi rolled off Amber's bed and crawled over to Luigi, begging to do his makeup, and despite not being wasted out of his mind, he was buzzed enough to agree to it, even knowing that Pavi planned on taking photos of the finished look for his makeup portfolio. Amber thought for a moment that Luigi would regret it when he was sober, but then she remembered that he was vain as hell and probably really enthusiastic about the idea of being featured in Pavi's portfolio.

As Adrian and Rocky shared their first kiss, and as Pavi contoured Luigi's already-prominent cheekbones with a surprisingly gentle touch, Amber heard the front door open, and Mag slid into the doorway of her room nervously.

"Looks like you're all settled in, huh? Sorry I wasn't able to help, rehearsal tonight and then I got dragged out for drinks."

Amber looked at her for a long time before attempting to answer, trying to take in what she was seeing. There was an exceptionally short, high-waisted black lace skirt hugging Mag's hips, and she'd paired it with a snug pink crop top that barely held her surprisingly perky breasts. Her long, thick black hair was falling in gently teased waves, and her usual glasses had been traded for contact lenses.

"Magsy!" Pavi exclaimed, dropping his brush and darting toward her for a hug. "You look so ravishing," he murmured teasingly, squeezing her waist.

"Thank you, that was the intention," she said with a giggle, throwing her arm around his shoulders.

"Sorry about Amber, she's drunk, she has a hard time with words after she's had too much. She says hi, though. And I can't remember, have you met Luigi?"

"I have, good to see you again. I think you went to Darren's with us once?"

"I did, hi," he said with a gentle wave. "Do I look pretty?"

"You do, you have me beat!" she laughed.

"Pavi's putting me in his portfolio," he said matter-of-factly, taking a large sip from the wine glass beside him.

"Awesome," she said matter-of-factly.

"You should go put on something comfy and join us! We're throwing Amber a little apartment-warming party, we have drinks!" Pavi started to ruffle the hem of her skirt teasingly, and she held it down hesitantly.

"I think I will, just give me a moment to take off all this makeup," she chuckled. "See you guys in a moment," she waved shyly before departing.

As soon as she left the room, Amber remembered how to speak- but just barely.

"Shit," she breathed.

"She's hot," Luigi agreed.

"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" Pavi demanded. "She's more of a casual dresser most of the time, you know, jean jackets and little loose skirts and leggings and stuff, I mean, it's cute, she looks good, but when she dresses up… God. She could have anyone she wanted."

"She sure fucking could," Amber murmured, tipping back her head to take a long swig of her drink.

"I would do anything for that girl," Luigi groaned.

"Well, brother dear, you're, er, not exactly her… type," Pavi murmured, attempting to convey some semblance of discretion.

"What do y- oh. Oh, okay." Luigi nodded, and Pavi promptly went back to doing his makeup, neither of them seeming interested in saying more on the matter.

"You're not going to use pink lipstick on me again, are you?" he demanded.

"No, pink wouldn't complement this look at all."

"Pink doesn't look good with my complexion, you should try a mauve or something."

"I was thinking purple, actually, but we shall see," he sang lightly.

Amber swirled the drink in her hand, and stared into it, trying to think of something other than those thighs, and Pavi, seeming to notice the strange state of mind that she was in, tried in his funny drunken way to start a conversation.

"So what are your classes like? Meet anybody?"

"I've met a couple people. There's a girl in my Lit class who is sweet, I don't remember her name. She's a freshman, I think."

"Ahh, the little ones are so cute. Have you met all the new Musical Theater majors yet?"

"Not yet, I'll probably see them at auditions. What about you?"

"Yeah, the peer mentoring thing that I do. There's some talented little people coming into the Department, we'll be leaving our school in good hands."

"Pavi, you realize I'm a sophomore, right? You're the one graduating at the end of this year, not me."

"Well, you know what I mean."

Mag came back into the room, donning loose pajama bottoms, a short snug wifebeater tank, and her glasses, and Amber expected that she would feel better, but instead, when she sat down next to her on the bed, when Amber was close enough to her to see that her beauty lay not in any makeup or in clothes, but in the way she was shaped and the scent of her and the careless river of her sable hair...well, then she was just mad. A woman should not be allowed to be this stunning.

Mag turned to her, fidgeting with the drawstrings of her pants, and smiled. "So, good first week of school?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's been good. It's been… good."