Entry tags:

fandom: jem and the holograms, femslash/yuri, rating: pg-13

Reading Lessons: Jem and the Holograms Fic
Author: Bitterfig
Title: Reading Lessons
Fandom: Jem and the Holograms
Pairing: Roxy/Stormer (allusions to past Stormer/Kimber)
Summary: Set after the Roxy Rumbles episode. While Stormer is helping her with her reading, Roxy finds out her friend was in a relationship with Kimber Benton when the two of them were cutting an album together. This knowledge forces Roxy to examine her own feelings for Stormer.
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 2295
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, some sexual content.

Reading Lessons

Pizzazz didn’t have the slightest clue I couldn’t read till it was more or less broadcast on national TV. Stormer on the other hand figured it out about a week after I met her.

That’s the way Stormer is. She notices things about people. It sort of makes her a sap but I guess it’s nice to be around saps sometimes. You feel like you matter.

Stormer was all concerned that I couldn’t read so she did a lot of stuff to help me. When she wrote a song she’d teach me all the words before she took it to anybody else and she’d go over set lists and stuff with me so I never looked dumb onstage.

When I finally decided to learn to read, I almost felt sad about it. Being illiterate sucked but I’d kind of liked that Stormer and I had this special secret thing between us that no one else knew about. I was afraid I’d miss that, miss her.

“I guess you’re glad you won’t have to waste your time covering up for me anymore,” I said when I saw her.

“You bet I am,” Stormer answered. “From now on I can spend my time doing you some actual good, helping you learn something useful.”

I guess I should have said I didn’t need any help but even I had to admit that I did. There was a reason I’d never learned to read before. It was hard, and I’ve never liked doing things that are hard for me. Stormer and I still got together, only instead of her reading lyrics to me I’d try to read for her, word by painful word, almost sick from knowing that a five year old could do better.

It was just like before, a big, shameful secret. I knew that if Pizzazz or Jetta found out anything about it they’d bust a gut laughing at how stupid I was. Just thinking about it made me want to break something, to tear up the books with their words I couldn’t seem to figure out…

I did once, just ripped the pages out of the book I was trying to read and scattered them like confetti. I thought for sure Stormer would throw me out on my ass after that but she didn’t.

“Now you know how I feel when I’m trying to get you and Pizzazz and Jetta to take me seriously,” she said. “We’ll work on it again tomorrow. It’ll get easier.”

She was right, it did get easier. Everyday I could read a few more words, signs in windows, magazines people were holding, menus in restaurants… Before I’d been running in place as fast as I could, day after day just trying to seem normal. Now things were opening up for me on all sides.

I was actually excited by being able to read stuff. Stormer helped make it interesting for me. She picked out stories and books based on movies and TV she knew I liked. A lot of them were myths and fairy tales from other countries. They were simple stuff, written for kids, but full of crazy witches, cannibal monsters and trolls. It was like having a zombie double feature you could take with you anywhere. She also helped me read magazines that had stories about the Misfits. Turned out Cool Trash wasn’t much harder to read than Dick & Jane. Another thing she’d do was go through her albums with me and I’d read the titles and the lyrics and the liner notes and all that out loud. It was almost like fun. She had a million records, about 99% of which I’d never heard of. At first I thought they must all be nobodies and has-beens, but sometimes when we were taking a break from lessons she’d play me something. Bob Dylan or Nina Simone or Leonard Cohen, and once you got past the weird croaky voices there were some pretty good songs.

Most of my lessons were at Stormer’s apartment. I liked going over there. I actually felt more comfortable than I did at my own place. When I got my first big check as a Misfit, I bought a fancy condo but it never felt like I really belonged there. I felt like I was locked in a showroom, I was afraid I’d break something. Stormer’s place was sort of small, filled with records and musical instruments, paintings she’d done, family stuff. It felt like home.

Or maybe she felt like a home. It’s hard to explain but I felt really good around her. It seemed like she was helping me not because she felt sorry for me but because she wanted to see things to open up for me, wanted me to become better. I felt sort of like a flower growing in her care.

Then I almost blew everything. That’s the way I work, I guess I’m just built for disaster.

One afternoon we were all in the studio rehearsing some new songs we were supposed to play on the Late Show that night. We played through a couple times then Pizzazz got bored, like always, and decided it would be more fun to crash this record signing Jem was doing downtown. It sounded like a cool idea but Stormer thought we should keep practicing because she’d worked really hard writing three new songs just for the show.

So of course Jetta and Pizzazz started picking on Stormer, saying how she was being all dull and prissy. Any other time I would have gone along with them but I remembered what Stormer said the night I ripped up the book, about how frustrated she got when we wouldn’t take things seriously. I didn’t want her feeling that way if there was anything I could do about it so I spoke up and said that maybe we ought to practice some more.

“You two can do whatever you want,” Pizzazz snapped. “I’m gonna go have some fun.” Then she stomped out followed by Jetta. I looked at Stormer, she looked at me and we took off after them. We ended up having a great time causing trouble at the record signing but we didn’t exactly get (or deserve) a standing ovation on the Late Show.

And I’d managed to get Pizzazz pissed off at me. We might have had a great time trashing Jem’s record signing, but the next day it was pretty obvious that Pizzazz hadn’t forgotten or forgiven my siding with Stormer.

“So what’s up with you and Stormer?” She wanted to know. “Seems like you two are awfully tight lately, always hanging out together.”

“Is she learning you your letters?” Jetta piped in. That was exactly what she was doing but I couldn’t let them know that.

“Nothing like that,” I muttered. “What do you want to know for anyways? Since when is what I do your business?”

“We were just concerned is all,” Pizzazz snipped. “We don’t want a scandal in the band you know.”

“No I don’t know,” I said. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Stormer pallin’ around all the time. Just seems kind of funny. People are starting to wonder if you’re girlfriends.”

“I think they make a sweet pair of lovebirds,” Jetta said.

“I’m no lez, why would anyone think something crazy like that?” I wanted to know.

“But you must know, Roxy dear,” Jetta said, “our dear friend Mary has a bit of reputation as a muff diver. Don’t you know she and Kimber Benton were a hot item when they were making that record together? It was all over the tabloids but then I suppose you won’t have noticed, what with your literary deficiency.”

I just gave them both a sneer but the next couple times I saw Stormer, I kept coming back to the stuff they’d said.

I got nothing against lezzies. Back in my old neighborhood in Philly I’d see a couple of them around, rough, manly women who worked on the docks and the railroads. I sort of admired them, being open about what they were like that. Stormer though, she wasn’t like that. She was pretty. She was more girly than I was. She loved dressing up in skirts and heels, wearing make-up, shopping, stuff like that. She sure didn’t look or act like any lez I’d ever encountered, but in a weird way it sort of made sense. She’d never talked about boyfriends or liking guys, girls always seemed to take precedence with her.

It all really confused me and after a couple of days I couldn’t seem to think of anything else but was she or wasn’t she? Did she like girls? Did she do it with girls? Had she done it with Kimber Benton? I mean, Kimber was sort of boy crazy but I could see her being up for it; I could totally see the two of them kissing and making out.

I didn’t like how clearly I could see it. I was thinking about it way too much.

“What’s up with you?” Stormer wanted to know when I’d flubbed up a simple sentence for like the tenth time in a row. “You’ve been off for days, you can do this but you’re not even trying.”

“I’ve got something on my mind,” I growled.

“Want to get it off your mind? Tell me what’s bothering you.” Stormer said.

“It’s nothing.” I told her. “Jetta and Pizzazz were saying some shit.”

“Jetta and Pizzazz are always saying something. What was it this time? Are they pickin’ on you about your reading?”

“Nah, they don’t know anything about that.”

“What is it then?”

I’m not big into talking about my feelings, but I thought that if I just said it right out she’d deny it, we’d have a laugh then maybe I could stop thinking about her making it with Kimber Benton.

“I heard you were a lez,” I said, flat out, no beating around the bush. “That you and Kimber Benton had a thing. Is it true?”

Stormer blushed red as the flower in her hair but her china blue eyes were steady on me and her voice never faltered.

“Yeah,” she said. “Kimber and I got together while we were making the Back to Back album.”

I’d expected her to deny it, even if it was true. I’d wanted her to deny it. I had no idea how I was supposed to respond or what to say. Being dumbstruck makes me feel dumb and I don’t like that one bit so I went on the offensive.

“So you really are a lez,” I said. “Is that why you’re helping me with my reading, trying to put the make on me?”

“Do you really believe I’d do that?” Stormer asked. “I’m helping you because you’re my friend and I want you to have a better life.”

“I know,” I said. “I didn’t mean it. I just don’t get it. Have you had other girlfriends while you’ve been in the Misfits, while we’ve been friends?”

“Kimber was the first, but I’ve always liked other girls.”

“Are you two still...”

“No. We decided to cool it when I came back to the Misfits. Kimber isn’t sure what she wants. She liked me, I think she liked me a lot, but she also likes dating guys.”

“Wants everybody to keep thinking she’s Miss Goody Two Shoes is more like it. You can do lots better than that prissy little wimp.”

“It’s not like that, Roxy. I’m not mad at her or anything. We still care a lot about each other. Kimber’s just trying to figure some things out and I understand because I’ve got a lot to figure out myself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve known my secret for a long time, why didn’t you tell me yours?”

“That was one of the things I’ve been trying to figure out. I was trying to figure out how to tell you when everybody found out you couldn’t read, and then when you made the decision to try and learn, I just wanted to help you. I didn’t want you to have to deal with my stuff on top of your own. I’m sorry I kept it from you, I feel like you’re a special friend, Roxy. I don’t want that to change but it seems like both of us are changing.”

“It sure does. It’s okay I guess, that you didn’t tell me. It’s not like you were afraid of me or something. You were thinking of me. Nobody else does that. I haven’t said anything but it’s really nice that you think about me.”

“Thanks, Roxy.” She said, squeezing my hand in hers.

“Do you ever think about me that way?”

She laughed. “Wait a minute, first you accuse me of trying to put the make on you then you want to know if I think you’re cute.”

“Do you?”

“Sure I do. You’re the kind of bad-ass rock chick I used to dream about when I was a skinny little band geek.”

My turn to blush.

“Really?”

“Really.”

I kissed her, a kiss sweet and twirly as an icing rose. I think it surprised me more than her.

“Not yet,” Stormer said. “Not now. Wait till you can read on your own. Then if you want to kiss me, we’ll both know it’s more than gratitude.”

“Forget gratitude, how about jealousy. If I’m so special what are you doing messing around with Kimber Benton.”

She smiled. “Either way, it’s better to wait, okay.”

“Yeah, okay.”

So we went on like we had been, except it was nothing at all like it had been. Everything was opening around us as she helped me with my reading and I learned.