Churlish

As in:

It was only the third week of classes and already Marci was struggling with how to help Tanya assemble herself for the rigors of Stanton Kerr Middle School. The schoolwork wasn’t the issue as Tanya was never in danger of slipping below a “B” in anything. But this, to Marci, was the problem with Tanya. She was so blandly over-achieving that she was becoming an object of jealous derision in the hallways, parking lots and locker rooms.

It was a hard subject to broach. How do you tell a friend that her seemingly effortless perfections were causing her stock to crash among her peers?

“What do you mean ‘be less ambitious?’” Tanya asked, when Marci first brought it up. “I’m just trying to do the work. I’m not trying to show anyone up.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to lose your homework once in a while,” Marci complained, “or skip out on a test. You know, create some drama, develop an edge.”

Tanya sat there for a few moments with a puzzled look on her face.

“Why?”

Marci just groaned, and walked off.

When they came back to the subject the following week, it was after the first of the nasty notes had been surreptitiously pinned to Tanya’s skirt in French class.

“I don’t get it,” she told Marci, “why anyone would write these things.”

“Look Tanya,” Marci shot back, “I think the thing is you’re just not wearing anything. You’re just a blank wall that people want to throw paint on. And you’ve got to, you know, beat them to it.”

“And what would that look like?” she asked.

“Well, you know, try something on. Be rockin’ happy, or outraged, or be churlish for once, just to see if it gives you some space.”

Tanya lowered her cheeks and looked impatiently over the rims of her glasses at Marci.

“Can’t I just do a nose ring?” she asked.