The Shit-Stirring Pick-Me Trap

The guy I used to blow up dog shit with when we were kids got a new girlfriend.

This new girlfriend called me a Pick-Me. She said I was just pretending to be one of the guys so I could steal her man, and that my entire childhood friend group was trash.

I didnt say a word. I just squeezed my girlfriends hand a little tighter.

She froze.

"You... you have a girlfriend?"

I, Harper, the unapologetic architect of the Great Dog Crap Explosion of 2005, had returned.

My first day back in the States, after my parents forcibly repatriated me from Europe for college, happened to coincide with a welcome-home dinner thrown by my oldest friend, Connor.

Connor was one of the kids I grew up in the dirt with. Our little cul-de-sac crew consisted of six people: four guys, two girls. I was one of the girls.

The other girl, Natalie, is currently at Harvard, perpetually stressed and entirely too busy for our nonsense. She is the only respectable human being to emerge from our circle.

The remaining four were the guys: Connor, Mack, Coop, and Miles.

How did we all become friends?

Its incredibly simple.

We grew up in the same suburban neighborhood. One sticky summer afternoon, after a torrential downpour, a massive puddle formed in the dirt lot at the end of our street. Some neighborhood dog had left a massive pile of shit right in the center of the depression. By the next afternoon, the sun had baked the water, rehydrating the turd until the entire puddle transformed into a bubbling, natural biological weapon.

Mack, who was five at the time and an absolute idiot, pointed at the murky water and said, "It looks like a big bowl of soup."

Connor, four and a half and an even bigger idiot, asked, "Can we drink it?"

I was five years and two months old. I answered his question with direct action. I grabbed a heavy tree branch, took aim, and slammed it right into the center of the hazard zone.

Splat.

Foul, brown water erupted into the air.

We spent the rest of that golden afternoon chasing each other around the street, dipping sticks into the biohazard and launching it at one another until the entire neighborhood smelled like a landfill.

Eventually, our respective mothers dragged us home by our collars. I got the lecture of a lifetime from my parents, my mother shouting, "Harper! Are you a young lady or a feral animal?!"

I was a young lady.

But I was a young lady who knew how to make a bomb out of dog crap.

So, three years later, when I finally sat down at the table with Connor and the boys again, Macks very first sentence to me was:

"Harper, do you still think about the soup?"

"I do," I deadpanned. "I also remember that you licked the water that splashed on your cheek and your mom had to take you to the clinic for three days of preventative rabies shots."

The private dining room erupted into laughter.

This was our dynamic. We survived each other's ugliest, loudest, most unpolished phases. We kept each other humble through mutually assured destruction. Anyone with a fragile ego would have been exiled from our circle back in kindergarten.

Connor poured me a beer. "Harper, listen. My girlfriend is coming tonight. Do me a solid and maybe lets not talk about feces?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You locked someone down?"

Mack leaned over, rolling his eyes. "Two months now. Treats her like shes made of spun glass. He wouldn't even let us meet her until today. We're only getting the privilege because of you."

Coop twisted the knife. "Yeah, he said he had to introduce her to his 'most important childhood friend.' We were wondering who that was. Turns out, it's you, Harper. The rest of us are basically dogs to him."

Connor kicked Coop under the table. "Can you guys just be normal for ten minutes?"

I nodded solemnly. "Alright, alright. I'll play the part. Perfect Southern belle. I got you."

Five minutes later, the door to the dining room opened.

A girl walked in. White sundress, long flowing hair, wide doe eyes, and skin that looked like it had never seen a harsh ray of sunlight. The way her skirt swished when she walked made it look like she was floating on a cloud.

Someone was floating right behind her.

No, it wasn't a person. It was Connors soul, tethered to her wrist.

Connor stood up, wearing the kind of dopey, worthless grin that only belongs to a man who has entirely lost his mind. "Guys, let me introduce you. This is my girlfriend, Paige."

Paige.

She kept her chin tucked, looking up at us through her lashes. The angle, the wide-eyed apprehensionshe looked like a startled fawn that had just wandered onto a busy highway.

"Hi everyone. I'm Paige."

Her voice was soft. Like cotton candy dissolving in hot water.

Mack and the guys immediately dropped their degenerate personas, sitting up terrifyingly straight and doing their absolute best impressions of civilized society.

I stood up too, ready to go through the standard American social pleasantries.

But as Paiges eyes scanned the room and landed on me, she faltered. She physically shrank back, hiding slightly behind Connors shoulder.

Connor quickly stepped in. "Harper, tone it down, you're scaring her. She's shy."

Me?

I hadnt even opened my mouth. I just stood up.

Alright then. I sat back down.

Connor pulled out the chair next to me for her, making the introductions. "Paige, this is the Harper I told you about. We grew up together. Ride-or-die. She just got back from studying abroad."

Paige offered me a smile. It was so tight, so constrained, so... forced.

I brushed it off. I reached into my jacket pocket.

Crap. Id been in such a rush to get here, I forgot to buy a welcome gift. I usually wouldn't care, but meeting a friend's new girlfriend empty-handed felt like bad form.

I glanced down at my wrist. A diamond tennis bracelet. Cartier. Id bought it for myself literally that morning.

Without a second thought, I unclasped it and gently slid it across the table toward Paige. "Hey, I didn't have time to prep a proper gift, but take this. Nice to meet you."

Paige froze, staring down at the glittering diamonds.

Connor froze, too.

The air in the room suddenly turned very heavy.

Assuming she was grossed out because it was already worn, I scratched the back of my neck. "Look, if you mind that I had it on, just hold onto it for now and I'll buy you a fresh one in a box tomorrow."

The moment the words left my mouth, Paiges eyes welled with tears.

What?

She pushed the bracelet back toward me with trembling fingers. When she spoke, her voice was thick with a sob. "Harper, I know you're Connors best friend... but you don't have to do this."

Do what?

I was genuinely baffled. "I think you're misunderstanding me. I literally just forgot to bring a gift"

"It's fine." She cut me off, the tears now actively pooling. "I know. I know the kind of money your circle comes from. I know I don't fit in with Connor's world. But I'm not with him for his money. I work hard for what I have. I don't need your charity."

I stared at her. Then I turned my head slowly to look at Connor.

Connor grimaced, leaning in to whisper furiously in my ear. "Harper, Paige didn't grow up with a lot. She's fiercely independent and she hates feeling like a charity case. You tossing a Cartier bracelet at her makes her feel like you're mocking her."

My brain short-circuited.

Mocking?

I tried to course-correct. "I swear I didn't mean anything by it, I just thought"

"Harper."

Paige spoke up again. This time, she stood up. The tears were actively rolling down her cheeks now, but her spine was rigid, playing the part of the tragic, unyielding heroine to absolute perfection. "I know you meant well. But I might not have money, but I have my pride. I don't want your handouts."

You could hear a pin drop in that dining room.

Mack and the guys exchanged panicked glances.

A familiar spark of temper flared hot in my chest.

But I swallowed it down. I remembered the very last thing my mother said to me at the airport before shipping me back to the States: Harper, if you start drama the minute you land, I am donating your entire sneaker collection to Goodwill.

I took a deep breath. Then another.

I forced the most pleasant, customer-service smile I could muster onto my face. "Okay. You don't want the bracelet. That's fine. Give me your Venmo. Name a number. I'll just send you the cash."

Paige went entirely pale.

Connor went entirely dark.

"Harper!" His voice snapped like a whip.

I was officially out of patience. "What?! She doesn't want the jewelry, so I offered cash. I've bought gifts for everyone else's girlfriends in this room! Why is this so difficult?"

"Paige isn't that kind of girl!"

"Then what kind of girl is she?" I threw my hands up. "I give her jewelry, she says I'm mocking her. I offer her cash, she says... I don't even know what she's saying! I'm literally just trying to say 'welcome to the group,' why is this a federal offense?"

Mack hastily stood up to play peacekeeper. "Alright, alright, let's dial it back. Harper didn't mean anything by it, Paige. She's just got no filter. She's a blunt instrument. Don't take it personally."

It was the wrong move. The second Mack tried to smooth things over, Paiges crying escalated from a tragic weep to a full-on breakdown.

She looked at Connor. Then at me. Then at Mack.

Her lips trembled. "I see. I get it now. You guys grew up together. You're the real circle."

"I'm nothing. I'm just an outsider." She looked right at me, her chest heaving. "You didn't have to do this, Harper. If you want me gone, just say it. You don't have to use your money to make me feel small."

Excuse me?

I used my money to make you feel small?

Giving you diamonds was an insult? Venmoing you was an insult?

What did she want me to do? Get down on one knee and pledge fealty?

"Connor." Paige turned to my childhood best friend, her voice breaking on his name. "I clearly don't belong in your world. We should just break up."

With that, she turned on her heel and sprinted out of the restaurant.

Connor looked at me. There was a lot in that look. Exhaustion, blame, and a little bit of... something else I couldn't quite place.

Then he ran out after her.

The door clicked shut.

Silence hung in the room for three agonizing seconds.

Coop was the first to speak. "Bro. What the actual hell just happened?"

Mack scratched his head. "Harper, you were... a little intense."

I sat back in my chair, staring at the glittering Cartier bracelet still sitting innocuously next to my plate.

Miles, the slowest processor among us, finally spoke up, his words dragging out. "Hey... does that Paige girl seem a little... you know?"

"A little what?" I asked.

Miles searched for the word for a solid ten seconds before finally finding it. "Like... a professional victim?"

The four of us exchanged looks. We sank into a deep, collective silence.

After a minute, I asked the room, "Does Connor realize?"

Mack shook his head. "If he did, he wouldn't have chased her."

Coop sighed heavily. "It's over. Connor's an idiot. He's going down with the ship."

I rolled my eyes. "Let him drown. He picked her. Now he gets to sleep in the bed he made."

What I didn't know at the time was that Paige wasn't just my best friend's exhausting girlfriend.

She was about to become the inescapable shadow of my college existence.

To be precise, she was about to become my roommate.

Later that night, my phone buzzed with a text from Connor.

[Connor]: Harper, don't sweat what happened tonight. Paige is just really sensitive. I talked her down. We're good.

[Connor]: I'll buy you dinner to make up for it.

I texted back an "OK" emoji and left it at that.

Id known Connor for twenty years. I knew exactly how he operated. When he locked onto an idea, a team of wild horses couldn't drag him away from it.

In middle school, he liked a girl in the grade above us, chased her for three years, and she ended up dating the captain of the track team. In high school, he fell for another girl, chased her for two years, and she moved across the country for college.

Now, there was Paige. Two months in. The absolute peak of the honeymoon phase delusion.

Anything I said right now would be used against me. It was better to say nothing at all.

But the universe has a remarkably twisted sense of humor.

On the first day of the semester, I dragged my suitcase into the dorms, pushed open the door to Room 408, and saw someone sitting on the bed near the window.

White dress. Long hair. Doe eyes.

She looked up. I looked straight ahead.

The air in the room instantly turned to concrete.

The sweet smile froze on Paiges face. The textbook in her hands slipped and hit the floor with a loud smack.

"Hi," I said.

"Harper?" she whispered.

I took a slow, deep breath, dragged my suitcase inside, and located my assigned bed.

It was the top bunk. Directly above hers.

Karma is a sick joke.

Fine.

I started unpacking. She stayed frozen on her bed.

About five minutes of excruciating silence later, she finally spoke.

"Harper... about what happened the other night. I misunderstood your intentions. I'm sorry."

I paused folding my shirts and looked down at her. She had her face tilted up toward me, eyes wide and glistening, the absolute picture of earnest, vulnerable apology.

I gave a single nod. "Don't worry about it. Water under the bridge."

She smiled. It was so sweet it made my teeth ache. "Thank you, Harper."

I smiled back, turned around, and kept unpacking.

My internal monologue, however, was crystal clear: If I can't beat her, I'm just going to avoid her like the plague.

For the next two weeks, I executed this strategy flawlessly.

When her alarm went off in the morning, I was already out the door. When she went to sleep at night, I was just walking in. Library, dining hall, the bleachers by the athletic fieldsI didn't care where I was, as long as it wasn't Room 408.

There were four of us in the suite. Besides Paige and me, there was Dakota, a golden retriever of a girl from the Midwest who loved everyone, and Lauren, a brutally silent premed student whose only form of communication was aggressively turning pages of her biology textbook.

Dakota, true to her nature, hated tension.

By the third day of classes, she cornered me. "Harper, do you have beef with Paige? Why are you always avoiding her?"

I waved a hand dismissively. "No beef. I just have a heavy course load. I leave early and come back late so I don't wake her up."

Dakota bought it.

Paige, however, did not.

She decided to go on the offensive.

During the second week of the semester, the humanities department hosted a mandatory storytelling showcase for freshmen. "The Moth" style.

I had absolutely zero desire to participate, but my advisor mandated that every seminar class had to send two representatives. We drew straws. I lost.

Paige had volunteered.

On the day of the showcase, I walked up to the mic and delivered a wildly inappropriate five-minute stand-up routine about almost burning down a flat in London while trying to boil pasta. It was pure filler.

When the results were posted, I ranked second to last.

Paige ranked third.

Walking back to the dorms, I was actually in a fantastic mood. Obligation fulfilled, no expectations to advance to the finals. I could go back to coasting.

I pushed open the door to Room 408.

Someone was sobbing.

Dakota was sitting on the edge of Paige's bed, rubbing her back. "Paige, please don't cry... third place is incredible..."

"But it's not fair," Paige sniffled, her voice trembling. "I prepared for weeks. I rewrote that speech a dozen times. I know I should have gotten first..."

Dakota patted her shoulder sympathetically. "I know, but the judges are subjective. You still placed!"

"It's not that." Paige lifted her tear-streaked face, looking at Dakota with tragic intensity. "Dakota... I need to tell you a secret. But you can't tell anyone."

Dakota leaned in. "What is it?"

Paige lowered her voice to a fragile whisper. "I have it on good authority that someone... stole my draft."

Dakota gasped. "Who?!"

Paige didn't answer. She just wept softly.

I was standing perfectly still in the doorway, caught in the awkward limbo of whether to walk in or back out slowly.

Paige suddenly looked up and locked eyes with me.

She flinched, then violently ducked her head, shrinking into herself.

It was the look. The specific, calculated look of a victim terrified of her abuser.

My brain stuttered to a halt.

She... she isn't implying what I think she's implying, is she?

Dakota slowly turned around. The look she gave me was incredibly complicated.

I crossed my arms. "Spit it out."

Paige shook her head frantically. "Harper, it's nothing! I know it wasn't you."

I exhaled, feeling the tension drain out of me, and stepped fully into the room.

But before I even reached my desk, Paige whispered, "It was probably just a coincidence... great minds think alike, right?"

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Think alike?

My speech was titled: How to Make Microwave Ramen Taste Like a Michelin Star Meal While Drunk.

I hadn't read Paige's draft, but I had been sitting in the auditorium when she delivered it. I remembered her topic vividly. It was titled: The Unseen Struggles of First-Generation College Students.

How, in God's name, did those two concepts "think alike"?

I turned slowly to look at her.

She immediately curled her shoulders inward, casting her eyes down in terror, looking every bit the bullied innocent.

Dakota was now staring at me like I was a villain in a Lifetime movie.

I let out a harsh laugh. "...I got second to last."

Paige blinked, looking up. "What?"

"I said, I ranked second to last. If I had stolen your brilliantly crafted emotional masterpiece, don't you think I would have placed higher than the girl who talked about her cat for six minutes? I was second to last."

Paige froze. A slow, hot flush crept up her neck.

Dakota blinked, the gears finally turning in her head. "Oh wait, yeah. Harper talked about ramen. Paige, your speech was about first-gen students. Those have literally nothing in common."

Paige looked down at her hands, her voice dropping to a microscopic whisper. "I was just... thinking out loud. I never said Harper stole it..."

I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own skull. I ignored her entirely, climbed up the ladder to my bunk, put on my noise-canceling headphones, and booted up my Switch.