Alive Again

Reese sat in her mother’s car, looking back and forth between her notebook and the numbers on the house. It had taken so much effort to be here and now she was losing her confidence. Kennedy was inside by now, probably anticipating her arrival. Her hands were trembling and her throat was dry. All day Sunday she had practiced what she was going to say to him, but now that she was at his house... well, she could only think of how in the hell she had gotten here in the first place. It hadn’t been easy, that’s for sure.

She had been a woman on a mission that morning and everyone could see it. She stormed through the halls with her head held high, and power walked past her peers. They watched her progress and remained silent in her wake. Then an annoyed Clare followed her sister’s path, only where Reese had turned right, Clare went left. Then the whispers started and didn’t seem likely to stop—ever.

Kennedy was at his locker, sorting through a mess of old lunches that his locker partner had left behind. Reese stood behind his open door, forcing herself to calm down. Sunday she decided that she was going to talk to Kennedy about whatever issue they had. Only this time, she wasn’t going to approach him at school, or cause a scene. She was going to tell him that she was going to go to his house after school. She didn’t know where he lived, but she would get directions from John at lunch.

Kennedy shut his locker and turned. He took a step back, startled to see Reese. He quickly rearranged his features to hide his stunned surprise, but not soon enough to hide his fear. In hindsight, Kennedy had realized that his e-mail might have appeared insulting or bitter to Reese. Unfortunately for him, there was nothing he could do after he hit send.

“Look,” Reese started, her voice low, “I’m coming over after school today.”

Kennedy nodded dumbly, and Reese wondered what he was thinking. Did he believe that she was going to kill him and bury his body in his own backyard? Perhaps he was wary of the Wallaces now and thought Reese would try to seduce him.

“I’ll see you around four, or something.” Reese didn’t give Kennedy a chance to react. She wasn’t giving him any room to wiggle his way out of their talk. If he didn’t go home right away after school, she’d wait outside. She was completely determined and nothing—not even Kennedy—would throw a wrench into her plans.

Reese was antsy all day; she was like every other high school student—just wanting lunchtime already! The sooner she got directions to Kennedy’s house, the sooner she could go hide in the library and read her book for her English project with John. When the bell for lunch finally sounded, Reese realized that she would have to stall for time, as there was no guarantee that John would sit with her if she got to the cafeteria first. What if by the time she got there he was surrounded by people—by Kennedy?

She bit down her anxiety and stood beside the doors, waiting for John to enter. He came in with Jared, laughing about their previous class. She followed them to a table and plopped down next to them, startling the two seniors who hadn’t heard her approaching. She was pleased by their reactions.

“Can I have directions to Kennedy’s house?”

John and Jared hadn’t hidden their confusion. Reese raised her shoulders and widened her eyes. She didn’t think the request was too tedious. Deep down, though, Reese had known that the request was just unexpected.

“I can always go ask someone else,” she had suggested to them, beginning to get up from the table. John reached out and gripped her wrist, tugging her back down and closer to him.

“No, no, it’s just... weird. Why do you want to know how to get to Kenny’s?” Jared had asked with practiced caution. He obviously hadn’t forgotten her little show with the J-cam.

“Just, because...” Reese allowed it trail off and offered another shrug of her shoulders. She had been afraid of the inquisition, mostly because she didn’t have the answers. John had still been staring at her like she had fallen from the sky. It only took a moment before a slow smile began to break out on his face.

“You’re going to fix things, right?”

Reese didn’t know how to respond to that. Was she going to fix things? She settled on a truthful answer.

“I’m going to talk to him.”

That was enough for John. Reese offered him a blank spiral notebook and he began to furiously scratch out instructions for her. They ended with a street and a house number. It was the same house number that she was currently sitting in front of as she struggled to find her earlier determination. There was still a chance for Reese to drive away, go home and pretend none of this happened. It would quell the nausea and put her at ease.

Things would be simple. She could ignore it. Unfortunately, those ideas were shot when Kennedy opened the front door and began to stare at her. Reese sheepishly opened the driver’s side door and got out. For a moment they just stood there, watching each other. Kennedy nodded his head and entered the house. Reese took that as the guy-version of an invitation.

She reached in the car to the plastic bag on the passenger seat and sighed, mentally preparing herself for this conversation. From there it was a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. Reese gripped the plastic bag close to her chest with one arm and shut the door silently with the other. She tested it twice to make sure it had actually shut and then ventured into Kennedy’s house.

The entryway was typical, family pictures and a decorative key rack, a closet and a set of stairs. Reese looked to the right, into the living room and easily recognized the back of Kennedy’s head. It was the part of him she was seeing most of lately. Reese tentatively ventured into the room, focused on the couch where Kennedy was sitting. She stood in front of him, tilting her head to try and see his face, but he was deliberately avoiding her gaze.

“You can sit, you know.”

Reese sat on the edge of the couch and hugged the plastic bag. The crinkling caused Kennedy to look over, and she quickly pulled the bag away to reveal its contents.

“I washed and ironed them for you,” she admitted quietly. Kennedy stared down at his neatly folded clothes.

“I um, left your shirt upstairs.” Kennedy’s voice was low and as quiet as Reese’s. He stood up and disappeared from the room, leaving the tension and Reese in his wake. She surveyed the room, the television and the video games spread everywhere, a bookshelf and a coffee table with rings on it. These things didn’t hold her attention; she was focused on various pictures of Kennedy and his brother.

Those damn butterflies just didn’t know when to die. Various pictures had immortalized moments in time where Kennedy’s smile blinded and his eyes glimmered and he just looked so happy. Reese used to have this idea that he could make her that happy, or share that happiness with her. That notion wouldn’t die and her heart thudded pathetically in her chest and she realized that whatever hold Kennedy had on her wasn’t gone and she really, really wished that it would leave.

Because Reese already had someone willing to share their happiness with her, even if it wasn’t as abundant and she had these butterflies and her heart skipped beats and it felt better, safer. She didn’t feel like she was going to be sick or like she wasn’t enough or that he was too grand to be true. But most importantly she had these feelings under control and tucked under a blanket of denial for an eternal slumber.

Kennedy returned and held out the familiar red flannel. Reese didn’t hesitate to grip the fabric and cuddle it to her chest. It smelled of Kennedy—and with a jerk of her gut she realized that the smell reminded her of her father. Her eyes stung and she swallowed hard repeatedly to keep her emotions at bay.

“I don’t care about you sleeping with Clary, Kennedy.” For the first time since Reese had entered the house, Kennedy sought to make eye contact. His eyes were hard, and his lips taut.

“Yes, you do, Reese,” She recoiled like he had struck her. “You liked me, or you like me, and it took all of this and John to tell me that.” Kennedy expected her to deny it, with her carefully composed blank expression. Instead, she surprised him by speaking calmly and honestly.

“I did like you, a lot. I think that maybe, I could have loved you.”

The two lapsed into silence. Kennedy was staring down at his hands, and Reese was watching him. She had anticipated a reaction, but it seemed as though Kennedy had just retreated into himself. She allowed the silence to drag on. She was the type of person that could thrive in a silence, but this was the kind that felt awkward to her. The air was thick with things unsaid, and Reese was tired of that feeling smothering her and Kennedy.

“What are you thinking about?” she prodded.

Kennedy looked up from his hands and stared intently at Reese. He looked to be carefully choosing his words. Finally he began to speak, annunciating his words slowly to articulate just the right meaning.

“I’m thinking that I might like you.” Kennedy paused, and held his tongue while Reese processed his confession. It wasn’t much of a confession; Kennedy wasn’t sure if he truly liked Reese, or if it was just the idea that she had liked him that was appealing. He didn’t want to lead her on, but he did want to be honest with her. From the moment she had confronted him at school, he had been anticipating every direction their conversation could turn to and the versions where he lied left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You might like me,” Reese repeated, testing the words on her tongue. They felt heavy.

“Well, I’ve never really thought of you that way, and now I’m kind of thinking of you that way… and it’s not so bad.” Reese tore her eyes away from Kennedy’s. They were so sincere that she felt her lungs restricting and her heart swelling. This couldn't be happening. Boys are complicated, and she didn’t need complicated—she had Clary, and that was enough complication in her life.

“Well you better stop trying to picture me that way,” she said, her voice shaking toward the end.

“Why? What’s so bad about thinking of what could have been?”

Reese already knew the answer. “Because you’ll end up getting stuck on me and what could have been. You won’t move forward. Maybe I could have been a safe bet.” Reese’s thoughts began to drift to her father, but she reigned herself back to the conversation at hand. “Or maybe I would have been as unreliable in a relationship as my sister is. It’s best not to think about it, because I don’t think of you that way anymore.” It was a little white lie. Reese didn’t want to think of Kennedy like that anymore—her body just wasn’t listening to her brain.

“Do you even think of me at all?” Kennedy wasn’t sure if he was ready for the answer, but would regret not asking.

“Of course; I think of how we can be friends now and I won’t feel like I’m going to throw up if we make eye contact for more than three seconds.” Reese smiled at Kennedy and they both began to feel at ease for the first time in days.

“In that case, do you want to have lunch together tomorrow, off campus? We should hang out after school too, make up for lost time,” Kennedy suggested with a boyish grin.

Reese nodded in agreement.

“I’d like that.”