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Janine means everything to me she to me is so relatable to me because she is an accurate depiction of a a 26/27 year old. Sheâs exactly like me, optimistic, happy, over explainer, empathetic, thoughtful, and I have bad social cues. Thereâs so much in her that resonates with me and Iâve never felt more seen in my entire life. I love seeing her grow and Iâve felt so proud of her while also hoping I grow as well. Janine is very misunderstood and seen a annoying for wanting to help and not acting in the way a neurotypical person does but thatâs just who she is. They may not have said sheâs autistic but I believe she is. Sheâs also just a young adult working through life and itâs hard and scary. Janine is smart, talented, resourceful, capable kind, caring and a delight to have around. I could go on and on on why I think sheâs incredible. In conclusion sheâs an amazing woman whoâs flawed and complicated messy and has trauma but is still a great person who I love. Janine is my favourite character on television and Iâm so happy Quinta made her and plays her.
One week to go until the start of the Abbott Elementary Rewatch and our Janine Teagues/Quinta Brunson Appreciation Week! Weâll be watching the pilot episode on 8/6/23.
Summary: After the end of yet another long work day, Melissa comes to collect Barbara. [Post-1.01]
CW: Emotional Infidelity
AO3 Link
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At precisely five past three, there are two blunt knocks on her halfway open door. Barbara doesnât even have to look up from the reading diagnostic that sheâs skimming to know that itâs Melissa dropping in to either say goodbye or to forcibly collect her at the end of yet another long day. She glances up anyway, her golden-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose, and smiles softly.
For this is habit between them, long-established and well-loved traditionâas baked into their daily routines as their shared communions at their favorite round table in the teacherâs lounge or their little rendezvouses at the copier, where they trade new bits of gossip with their elbows pressed on top of the machine.Â
Melissa comes to look for her at the end of every dayâof course she does.
And Barbaraâs enduring role is to simply let herself be found.
âThe ops are upstairs with Jacob,â the younger teacher says, leaning against the door like itâs both habit and home. Her vivid hair is haloed by the ring of Barbaraâs sunflower wreath, and the effect is lovelyâall that scarlet, crowned in pops of autumnal gold.Â
âQuick. You ân me can make a break for it if we hustle.â
âGirlfriend,â Barbara canât help but chuckle, âyouâre fooling yourself if you think I ever belong in the same sentence as the word hustle. I donât hustle, Iââ
ââsedately shuffle from place to place?â Melissa grins, waggling a mischievous brow.
ââgracefully swan from one destination to another,â she finishes with a mock sniff, unable to be especially affronted when Melissa laughs like she does, so loudly, with the entirety of her belly. âDonât tease! Youâre not making it anywhere quick either on that hip of yours."
They both have a bad something or another. Melissaâs bad hip and Barbaraâs bad knee. They're mutually bad backs. They complain about these grievances to each other often, especially now that itâs fall and the cold is starting to seep into their bones.
âSheesh, donât remind me,â her friend half-smiles. âAlmost threw it out again lugginâ that new rug to my room.âÂ
But then she half-grimaces too, lightly rubbing the affected area with three fingers, and Barbara frowns just as immediately, pushing her playfulness to the side along with her classâs reading report.
"You should really go see a specialist about that, you know.âÂ
âAnd let some rich quack put me on a bunchâa painkillers? Hell to the no,â Melissa scoffs easily. She has distrusted doctors for as long as Barbara has known her, thinks theyâre all two-bit charlatans and overhyped clowns. The only person she ever goes to see is her second cousin, Frankie, a general practitioner whose practice is adjoined to a pizza joint that may or may not also be a money laundering front.
Barbara doesnât like to think about that fact very often.
âWell, at least come here and get yourself an Advil for the road,â she exhales, making the more expedient decision not to press the point. Theyâll have that row another day, and itâll likely be spectacularâas their rare arguments usually areâbut thatâs future Barbaraâs cross to painfully bear. âYou know I hate it when youâre hurting.â
âI hate it when Iâm hurting too,â Melissa quips, always a snarker, even in the pits, but all the same, she obediently peels herself off of the door and limps on over, one plod of her clunky boots at a time. Barbaraâs heart inexplicably plummets into her gut when the second grade teacher decides, apropos of absolutely nothing, to partially lower herself on the edge of her desk, rattling her pencil cup with her added weight.
Her sheer and overwhelming presence.Â
Her leopard-spotted blouse and those tight black pants. The way the leather rasps when her thighs brush together as she incrementally shifts and makes herself comfortableâcozy evenâon Barbara Howardâs extraordinarily immaculate desk. The endless cascade of her fiery red hair and the saints that are perpetually worshiping at the altar of her marble bosom. The slight citrus smell of her favorite perfume.
âWhat?â Melissa chuckles, apparently seeing something complicated in Barbaraâs expression, something that Barbara would probably shy away from in the uncomplicated honesty of a mirror. Sudden heat crests within her. It becomes a knot in the column of her throat, becomes a ticking time bomb, a violent pleasure, a pleasant wound. âYou prefer I keep my ass off your stuff?â
She has less than three seconds to decide which is worseâhaving Melissa Schemmenti on her desk or not having her there. Neither of these options frankly brings her closer to God.
âYouâre being absolutely facetious,â she finally mutters, not looking the second grade teacher in the eye as she dives down to retrieve her purse. She makes quite a meal out of rifling through it for a bottle that she handily keeps in a side-pocket.
âThat isnât an answer.â
âYour question was hardly appropriate enough to warrant a response.â
âSo Iâm being naughty, huh?â Melissa guffaws. Melissa jokes. From Barbaraâs limited perspective, itâs all a joke to Melissa: her innuendoes and habitual crassness, the intimate geography of their bodies in relation to each other.Â
Their closeness in general.
In so many more ways than one.
Sheâs always like to flirt with Barbara, no matter their respective marital statuses.
Nothing ever truly inappropriate, of course, calling her hot mama here or lightly ribbing her about them being work wives there. And that was all fine and good until one day, after many, many years of them being the very best of friends, Barbara suddenly collected the punchline like a baseball bat to her gut.
Until one day, every touch and casual glance, every hon and other pet name lightly thrown her way, actually did something to her.
Set her eternal soul on fire for one thing.
Condemned her.
(Saved her.)
Condemned her.
âThat word has an entirely different connotation, and you know it.â
âI mean, depends on how youâre using the word.â
âMelissa!â She groans, flushing, feeling nauseous, vaguely suspecting that sheâs flirting back.
âOkay, fine, fine. Iâll stop being a cagacazzoââ Melissa chortles obliviously and goes to get up, but before Barbara can capably stop herself, before morality can catch up to the rest of her usually well-ordered senses, she impulsively places her free hand on her best friendâs knee.Â
They both shiver violently upon first contact, stunned silent, both incredulous that she actually dared.Â
Melissaâs cheeks blanch and then just as immediately color, all the mirth draining from her face and becomingâŠÂ wellâŠÂ Barbara doesnât know.
(Barbara doesnât want to admit the mirrored emotionâeven to herself.)
(Especially to herself.)
âYou donât have to get up,â she croaks, withdrawing her hand as though burned, cupping the pill bottle she finally retrieved like itâs the only thing keeping her from kissing her colleague. Surely, there are other barriers, though.
Surely, there is her wonderful husband.
Surely, there is God.
âI was just⊠joking.â
âMe too,â Melissa says quickly, eyes averted. âI was just joking too.â
And they both laugh then because theyâre both jokingâobviouslyâa little too loudly to ever sound entirely sincere. Still, they grant each other the kindness of overlooking this inconvenient truth. Still, they laugh and unpleasantly laugh.
(Thatâs how thisâwhatever this is that exists between themâkeeps going after all: this almost tango, this halfway song-and-unending-dance. This terrible thing. This beautiful thing. This unfathomable sin. This simultaneous grace.)
(Theyâre a chemical collision that keeps never, ever happening, and thereâs primal relief in the fact. Thereâs unspeakable sadness too.)
âHere,â she says, untwisting the cap of her bottle and finally shaking an Advil into the palm of her hand. Extends it. An offering. A perfect opportunity to move on from the stickiness of the moment.Â
Melissa takes it. Her fingers scrape Barbaraâs lifelines.
âTake a swig of my coffee,â she continues weakly, all her atoms thrilling at even that barest touch. âI donât mind.â
âThanks,â Melissa grunts, popping the pill into her mouth and hastily lifting the aforementioned drink to her lips. Her nose promptly screws up in disgust.
âBlegh. Too flippinâ sweet.âÂ
An unsurprising criticism coming from this particular woman. Melissa usually takes hers black.
âItâs just French Vanilla creamer.â
âItâs a milkshake in a mug is what it is,â she shakes her head fondly. âDonât how you flippinâ stand it, Barb.â
âOh, well, believe it or not, I have my sundry vices too,â Barbara chuckles lightly. They both do. And itâs far more genuine this time, perhaps simply because itâs the kind of banter theyâre more accustomed to. It's familiar territory, safe and solid ground. They wonât get themselves in trouble joking about their coffee preferences, and Barbara almost convinces that she doesnât regret their capacity for discretion, their exercise of extraordinary and remarkably Christian restraint.
âYou? Vices?â Melissa arches an amused brow. âGet outta here, Mrs. Barbara Howard, perfect woman of God.â
But she stops herself; she disciplines her wayward tongue.
Sheâs spent decades upon unceasing decades constructing the meticulous reputation that her friend is proposing that she has achieved. And that gratifies her, of courseâsure, yes, absolutely. Her lifelong project of embodying excellence beyond excellence has clearly been a quantifiable success.
But still, there is something in her that instinctively balks at Melissa elevating her to a lofty pedestal. She wants the whole world to believe that she is perfect but needs just one personâthis personâto understand that itâs all just a well-executed and beautifully performed facade
Sheâs saved from trying to resolve this frankly unresolvable contradiction, though, by Melissa suddenly wincing again, her hand going to her hip as she shifts a little on the desk, and Barbara latches on to this microgesture and readymade excuse gladly. She leans forward, shoving her own thousands of invisible hurts away.
âYou should have told me that your hip was bothering you, sweetheart,â she murmurs seriously, still flexing her fingers around the Advil bottle, resisting the urge to reach out and help her friend, to work her fingertips into the sore tissue there⊠discovering the plump softness⊠the forbidden fruit⊠of her rosy skinâŠ
She briefly turns away, coughing into her own shoulder.
Ridiculous impulse.
Absurd.
âWe could have gotten one of the Three Musketeers to shoulder an additional load.â
âPssh,â Melissa rolls her eyes, âI donât think Jacob could lift a log if the log was a two-by-four with the word log written on top of it.â
âFoul!"
âBut Iâm right,â the younger teacher grins.
âThe two arenât mutually exclusive,â she agrees as Melissa laughs again, all mischief, so playful and unapologetically loud. Barbara swats at her arm, always pretending to be the sanctimonious one between them.Â
A smile smuggles itself at the corner of her lips anyway.
ââSides,â Melissa eventually shrugs, âit was worth it to see the pipsqueak all happy.â
âMm,â Barbara shakes her head fondly. âThat Janine.â
Sheâs certainly a handful, thatâs for sureâovereager and overzealous, clearly overcompensating for something thatâs likely above Barbaraâs thoroughly abysmal pay grade to ever fix. But even still, the young lady has a kind heart and an admirable passion for what she does. Sheâs good with her kids and tries hard to be better for them every day.Â
Those traits alone arenât sure signs and predictors that sheâs going to survive this Sisyphean hell of a public school system, of course, but theyâre certainly not going to hurt her chances either.
After a year of having known her, Barbara likes herânot that she'll ever admit as much to her, though.
âA flippinâ mess.â
âOh, beyond a shadow of an entire doubt.â
âThink sheâll last?â Melissa asks, which is a pretty remarkable question in and of itself. No new teacher has stayed long enough recently for either of them to bother caring. Their investment is hard won, fought for, far from easily earned.
Theyâve both been endlessly burned in the past, or rather, more accurately still, theyâve mutually spent their lifetimes burning themselves trying to care for other people.
âIf life has taught us one thing,â she starts thoughtfully, âitâs that good things rarely doâŠâ
Before she can continue, though, Melissa cuts her off with a short laugh like a bark.
âHa!â Her verdant eyes twinkle. âWhat about us old bats then?â
âExceptions to the rule clearly.â
âClearly,â the younger teacher mocks.Â
âGirlfriend!â She chides, laughing. âLet me finish.â
âOkay, okay, go on telling me about how shit the world is.â
âVulgar,â Barbara shakes her head in a long-suffering manner, âand not where I was going with that sentence anyway. Good things rarely last, yes, but who but the good Lord ever truly knows? Perhaps Janine will surprise us in the end. Maybe Mr. Hill too.â
âOh, look whoâs beinâ all facetious now,â Melissa grins as she finally sidles off the desk, straightening up on the tiled floor with a thud and a slightly pained grunt. She towers over Barbara now, whoâs still in her rolling chair. The skin of her leopard-print shirt stretches across all her delicious curves.Â
âAt least itâs not the same thing as being naughty,â she mutters, glancing away as her friend seizes with laughter.
âSemantics, schemantics, Barb. We both sound like total lesbos sometimes, yâknow.â
Barbara can't help herselfâshe splutters incoherently, accidentally dropping the Advil bottle sheâs been fiddling with for the last five minutes. It rattles and comedically rolls somewhere far beneath her desk.
âW-what?!â She eventually gets out, now gripping the arms of her chair. âWe donât? I could never. Melissa! You and Iââ
âGod,â Melissa goes on, all her features alive with raucous delight, positively shit-eating. She taps her chin with one finger. âCome tâthink of it. Iâd make one hell of a good lesbian if I didnât also like dudesââ
âMelissa! Be serious!â
âI am serious,â the second grade teacher laughs, not sounding particularly serious at all. âAbout who I am anyway. Donât worry, hon. I know you play for a different team.â
But that last sentence, even if itâs a part of the jokeâof this game of fluster-Barbara-Howard-senselessly that Melissa is expertly playingâsuddenly veers into an earnest sadness that Barbara canât quite unhear and her friend canât just as quickly disguise.
âShame,â Barbara mumbles without really intending to, but the word slips from her mouth before she can catch it and scold it for being reckless anyway.
âShame,â Melissa agrees and tries another smile. It's an exhausted, little thing; it slumps like a body in the darks of her eyes.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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so i'm taking part in the abbott rewatch and honestly??? abbott is such a gift
some of these things i'm noticing in the rewatch??? beautiful
like:
Janine being a Buzz fan for the ambition (i mean predictable but also i love her for it)
Andrew's sassy pencil throw is a mood ngl
her student Erica calling her Janine like they're friends outside class??? maybe my brain is overthinking by calling this foreshadowing lmao
Janine thinking twice on her Xanax rug thing and realising that it's actually a good one to use forever
"Back That Azz Up" for kids BARBARA PLS
Janine calling Barbara "mom" and basically babbling excitedly to her at how great a teacher she is and how she wants to be like her đ
the staff room being upstairs???? i hadn't noticed it before but now it's 100% an important factor to me because that means all the ground floor teachers have to go upstairs instead of the upstairs teachers coming down
also is it the upstairs hallway that's white because a lot of the later interviews are in a warmer brown corridor (downstairs) i think
they're sitting at different tables in the pilot - they're sitting further from the kitchen counters here
as much as i disliked Ava in the pilot originally, her calming down that other teacher (Tina. her name is Tina.) showed a hint of professionalism that we see more of later (she wrecked that literally 5 seconds later in true Ava fashion though)
Barbara smiling every time she fires a shot
five year old bra. that's so HARSH Barbara. also the fact that she noticed (and the bra is probably older than that)
Jacob talking about Africa đ he truly does need to stop
...i feel like Janine's ENTIRE CLASS calls her "Janine" and not "Miss Teagues" and that's great tbh. absolutely hilarious. but it also shows the differences in power and respect between classes because Melissa's kids would never call her "Melissa", and she and Janine teach the same grade
Barbara's expressions are genuinely wonderful
why is Jacob trying so hard. i love him but also why is he like this
Janine absolutely keeps her shawls as emergency cover ups for kids with bathroom emergencies
"that was disgusting... but she seems nice" the beginning of the fall ladies and gentlemen
Janine walking straight into Barbara's classroom like she's always a welcome guest lmao. where was the knock on the door, Janine.
that smirk on Barbara's face when Janine starts gloating like she knows something's about to go wrong
Gregory, Janine and Jacob walking together down the corridor. the after school squad begins. except we all know Gregory is just walking there because he wanted someone to follow and Janine was his first choice
"am i even a Sagittarius?" Janine your exaggeration is simply glorious
Ava's nicknames for Gregory are incredibly imaginative and i may need a full list of them
the way Jacob was about to start making comments on Janine's hair đ
Sheena refusing the food đ how bad was that pizza???
Gregory definitely followed last minute to see what was going on with Janine because at that point he's known her for less than a week (maybe even a day) and he's already đ for her
veryone just wanting Jacob to not talk or bring in one of his "inspirational quotes"
Jacob why are you trying to hug this stranger past a rug
that small smile on Gregory's face that he clears as soon as the cameras appear
Barbara bringing in the odor and stain spray for Janine đ„ș
that blue dress that Janine wore? i want it
anyway i really re-enjoyed the pilot, it just brought back a whole lot of feelings and revealed a whole lot more about the characters than i thought it would. it may be surface-level understanding of the characters, but it leaves you wanting to learn so much more about them through the show.