Alive Again

Reese was always one of the first twenty people in the cafeteria at lunch. Her classroom was right next to the cafeteria and Reese always sat closest to the door to make a quick exit and avoid that post class chit chat. Reese Wallace always moved through the school like she had a purpose. It was no different at lunch—she had a very straight forward set of goals. Get her lunch, get a table and pretend to be absorbed in her book.

Lunch was that time of day where Reese felt most unsure. Who would sit with her? What would she overhear? Reese had no excuse to ignore her fellow students at lunch, her book was a feeble defense, and she had no regular group to sit with. Getting to the cafeteria early and choosing one of the tables in the middle was her only comfort. She could avoid that awkward seeking for a free seat and trying not to intrude on the many cliques.

Today Reese knew of at least one person who would approach her table. Clary would need the money from her older sister if she planned to eat. Reese did not feel up to eating today—the events of the day had made her quite nauseous. Had she never made plans with John she would have gone home sick though in all honesty Reese would be going home tired. It was only the middle of the day and she could barely keep her eyes open. The temptation to just lay her head down on the table and sleep was overwhelming but Reese knew the din of students would only allow her to rest her eyes and gain no energy from it whatsoever.

In a span of two minutes the cafeteria was in full swing with tables occupied, conversations raging and students waiting impatiently in line to buy their lunches. Reese rested her elbows on the table and let her head lean heavily on her palm. Her eyes were trained on the doors waiting for a familiar face to enter. So far her table had remained depressingly abandoned. Kennedy walked in and glanced around the large room with an almost lost expression. His eyes met Reese’s and his facial expression changed from shocked to guilty and then to a scowl before he turned and left.

Reese stopped watching the door then and glared at her idle hand on the table surface. Why did Kennedy get to act like he was a victim and it was Reese who had done him wrong? She had been accommodating in every aspect that she could have been given the situation. It was in no way her fault that he had stupidly had his heart toyed with by her promiscuous sister. And not to mention he had the nerve to wear her coveted flannel shirt.

Her angry train of thought was derailed by a bright orange box being shoved into her face. Reese leaned back from the table and followed the hand holding out the box to see John. His expression vexed Reese as the curve of his crooked smile was softer and more sympathetic than it should have been. Her glare had softened but she still looked like a petulant child. He wiggled the box, causing the contents to bump against each other in a nearly musical sound.

“I saw them in the vending machine and thought of you.” Her lips quivered and fought her subconscious resolve to be miserable. She smiled and accepted the box of candy from John and gestured for him to take the seat next to her. Reese’s Pieces were her favorite candy of all time—she detested the Reese cups. She enjoyed the crunch that Reese’s Pieces offered her and the vibrant orange and yellow of the smooth circular candies. She had no admiration for the brown ones—they were neither bright nor particularly spectacular. Her fingers eagerly opened the box and she dumped a generous amount into her palm. Without thinking twice, she tilted her hand into her mouth and chewed savagely at the candy.

John watched his friend, his smile growing softer and more affectionate by the second. Reese offered the box to John and hummed a non-verbal question. He shook his head, declining her offer of the candy. He knew that the Kennedy and Clary disaster bothered Reese more than she would let on. John had noticed those fearful but wistful glances she gave to Kennedy when she thought no one would see. Reese wasn’t an affectionate individual, everyone knew that. She was more guarded than the President.

Reese popped several more Reese’s Pieces into her mouth and smiled softly, as the peanut butter had melted in the confines of the candy’s shell, leaving Reese with orange food coloring on her hand. She didn’t scoff or show any acknowledgement to the dye other than to wipe her palm on her pants. John let out a low chuckle. One of these days Reese was going to realize that the vending machines at school didn’t sell Reese’s Pieces.

John always had very subtle ulterior motives when he brought her candy. One of his many ulterior motives was entirely innocent; he just wanted to see Reese happy even if it was very brief. He had never been caught before but this time he felt his questioning might make the buttering up a little too obvious.

“So, uh, are you going to try out for baseball again this year?” Reese quirked her eyebrow, and John noticed the distinct resemblance between her and Clary when she did so. The two sisters were so opposite—first off Clary had been blond while Reese had kept her dark chocolate locks of hair. Sure their faces bore the same resemblance—both had these nearly sinful pouty lips—but Clary wore shiny lip gloss and Reese wore... well John didn’t know but it wasn’t lip gloss.

“That’s not until later in the year, I probably will though.” John wanted to yell when he saw that guarded expression on Reese’s face. His opportunity was gone now—she had been so happy and carefree before. He should have just asked about Kennedy and had it done with but no instead he had to try and beat around the bush.

Reese was once again lost to her thoughts. She was torn between emotions when it came to baseball. She didn’t know how to feel because baseball had been something she and her father both enjoyed. He taught her how to throw and catch and coached her on how to hold the bat during t-ball. Baseball was fraught with happy memories of her father. Yet when he left Reese couldn’t bring herself to stop playing the game—she loved it too much. Her mother and sister weren’t pleased, Clary especially didn’t enjoy having to sit for seven innings, but allowed her to continue with the sport nonetheless.

She had already had to give up her first name; she didn’t want to lose her favorite sport as well. Reese was good at baseball—people usually saw her as dainty and delicate. She had scored more homeruns because of that presumption than she could count on both hands. She wasn’t a powerful hitter but she was like a bullet and could usually be an inch from third before the ball was captured. She wasn’t afraid to slide home or get hit by the ball.

“Hey Clary,” John greeted warmly. Reese admired him for being able to do that. He had this way of speaking that made everyone feel appreciated and welcomed. Even when John had been openly rude to someone his voice was still so damn wonderful and amiable. Reese really couldn’t put her finger on it. Instead of focusing on his unique tenor, Reese looked to her younger sister. She stood with her hip jutted out just slightly, most of her weight on one leg.

She didn’t look like she had just gotten out of a relationship. She was smiling at John in that coy way she used when she wanted to appear innocent. Reese knew that to John, Clary was innocent. He saw her irrevocably as Reese’s little sister. He had not yet adopted her new name—Clare—and instead still called her Clary like he had for years. Wordlessly, Reese rooted through her pockets for the five dollars Clary had not yet asked for.

The sooner she got Clary away from her friend the better. Clare looked down on her older sister and ripped the money out of her hand without so much as a smile or a thank you before she was strutting away. In typical Clare fashion she swiveled her hips. If someone was watching she was going to make it worth their while. Clare had to roll her eyes as she walked away from her sister—sometimes Reese could be so damn naive.

Clary left a silence in her wake as Reese focused on her last Reese’s Pieces. John was staring a hole in the side of her head, but she pretended not to notice it. She was getting so good at ignoring his eyes sometimes she could convince herself that he wasn’t looking at her at all. Then she’d do something stupid like look over in his direction and be caught up in a staring contest. Reese always felt trapped when she looked at him in those moments of silence like there was some silent communication that she didn’t know how to translate. She then waited for John to speak—or she herself would break the silence.

“So, a bunch of the guys from the team are going to have a game this Friday after school just for fun and then we’re going to go get pizza. They asked me if I could ask you if you wanted to go. They missed you over the summer.” John was prepared for Reese’s answer, for it was always the same.

“I’ll see if I can make it.” It was an uncommitted answer. John had known that Reese was going to say it, but the disappointment wasn’t placated by the premonition. It wasn't that Reese didn’t want to go; it was just that she never knew if she could. Unlike Clary, Reese couldn’t just make plans. Reese had responsibilities. She was the reliable daughter, and she couldn’t just leave her mother like that. Her mother worked two jobs already and could barely control her youngest daughter. Was it really fair for her to come home and do the dishes?

No, and that’s why Reese could never commit to any gathering with her friends after school or on the weekend.

“Look if it’s a matter of not having any wheels, I’ll drive you.” Reese began to tear the cardboard package. The material was bendable, but more importantly it was capable of being torn apart. Reese wondered who could relate more to the box, Clary or herself. Reese was flexible when the pressure was applied, much like the waning paper of the box. Clary looked nice; she was colourful and bright, like the box. Clary had given away everything that was inside of her and was emptier than she let on.

Reese threw the mangled box onto the table. She glared at it with disdain. She was thinking way too much about a simple candy container.

John wasn’t going to let Reese ignore him, he was well aware that she had heard him. He leaned closer to her, bringing his mouth so close to her ear that Reese felt his breath each time he exhaled. Reese swallowed and bit down on her tongue. She wanted to lean away from him, but didn’t want to be rude.

“Is it money, Reese?” His voice was soft, tender and considerate but Reese reacted like he had shouted.

“I’ve got to get to my locker, while the bitches are away. I’ll see you later, Jolly.” Reese pushed herself away from the lunch table, John stood and for a moment it seemed like he was going to pursue her. She had left abruptly, a sure sign that he had offended her. But Reese had also used part of the nick name she had for him. John decided that Reese wasn’t too mad, and just needed some space. He turned away from Reese’s retreating back and joined some of his other friends at another table, determined not to take her sudden departure personally.

Reese’s footsteps were quick, and fell heavily against the linoleum. She enjoyed the dull throb of her heel; it distracted her from her embarrassment. She avoided eye contact with the stragglers, her mind too wrapped up in what John had just said to really notice them. How dare he bring up financial matters, to insinuate that she couldn’t afford to go out for pizza! Like trivial things like that even remotely came into consideration when she was invited places. She had more important things to think about.

She turned the corner sharply, only to hit a proverbial brick wall. Halfway down the hall, abusing his locker was none other than Kennedy Brock. Reese could see his dark expression, even from this distance. It wasn’t as angry as his body language; it was like a rain cloud. Reese didn’t fight her instincts; she let her feet move her toward him.

Kennedy slammed his locker shut, letting his palm linger on the cool metal. Reese picked up the pace, determined to catch Kennedy before he ran off.

She easily pushed her hand into the crook of his elbow, squeezing slightly. Kennedy glanced back at her and let out a sigh. He didn’t say anything to her, but he didn’t shake her off either. Together they walked down the hall, her fingers applying pressure every few moments to remind him that she was still around. Try as she might, Reese cared about Kennedy.

“How’re you holding up?” Reese asked, squeezing Kennedy’s arm again. She was jarred when he stopped suddenly and turned to face her. His arm slid out of her grasp easily and he gripped her upper arms, almost painfully.

“How you could be related to that girl is beyond me. I should have known better, Reese. And you know it, so don’t act nice when you just want to be mean. I had plenty of warning, it was my mistake. Don’t feign your concern, I won’t tell anyone that your daddy left you in the middle of the night. I certainly won’t tell anyone that he couldn’t even hold out until your birthday.”

Kennedy released Reese, and briskly walked out the front door of the school without looking back. Reese brought her hands up to rub the spots where Kennedy’s hands had just been. She knew that it ought to hurt—he was holding so tightly. But she couldn’t feel anything. Her mind was blissfully wiped blank, she was hardly aware of anything going on around her.

The bell rang, signalling that lunch was over. Students began to clog the main hallway; they had to swerve to avoid Reese. They stared at the eldest Wallace sister with rude expressions of curiosity, but she couldn’t see them. She was staring at the spot where Kennedy had disappeared, with a blank expression. Her head was tilting slightly to the right, her lips parted in the smallest expression of surprise. No one bothered to stop, no one asked Reese if she was okay, but they all asked each other.

What happened to Reese Wallace at lunch? The rumors started being spun, like intricate spider webs. Whispers and murmurs about the embrace between John and Reese that morning. Some people commenting that Reese and John argued at lunch. Someone mentioned that they hadn’t seen Kennedy at lunch.

The late bell rang, and the last of the stragglers headed to their appropriate classrooms, some throwing confused glances at Reese over their shoulders. Soon there was only Reese, solitary and shut down. The silence seemed to drag on, pressuring Reese until she moved. At first she just blinked, slowly and then she lifted her head.

And then she was walking out of the school. Reese just wanted to go somewhere to be alone.

Home seemed like the perfect place to go.