Alive Again

Reese wasn't at school the next day. Kennedy Brock was also among the absent that day. The halls were alive with murmured rumours about the duo. Clary took advantage of her sister’s absence to make some headway with John. She convinced him to call Reese, to ask her if he could bring her anything. He went as far as to offer to deliver her previously forgotten backpack.

And just like Clary hoped, Reese accepted John’s offer. John was polite when Clary had asked if she could get a ride with him, since he was going to her house anyway. She had suggested that they stop at a grocery store or a gas station on their way to get Reese some candy. John had blushed and Clary had smirked, because she had let him know that she was onto his little secret. On the drive, Clary asked John if he had heard about the party going on Friday. John had indeed heard about it and said that he might check it out after baseball. Clary asked if Reese was going to baseball, John said that he didn’t know. The way he said it made it sound like he really wanted her sister there.

Clary had known that Reese would hear John pull into the driveway, that her eyes would follow his movements and analyze every one of them. John acted just as Clary had thought he would; he carried her bag and Reese’s bag up to the front door. Clary had anticipated Reese meeting them at the door, and was sure to send her older sister a smug smile. She wanted Reese to think that she was playing games with John. Clary was playing a game, but it wasn’t going to be the same pattern that Reese would be able to follow. Clary knew that John cared much more for Reese than Kennedy had, and so if she were to go after him, she’d need to use Reese.

She took advantage of John’s kindness and his caring for her older sister to get the upper hand in an undeclared war. She brushed past her sister and jogged upstairs, where she paused to listen to their conversation.

“Are you feeling any better?” John asked. He spoke with such affection and genuine caring, but of course Reese would be oblivious to it.

“Yeah, I caught up on all my sleep,” Reese replied.

“So you’re going to be at school tomorrow?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Reese answered.

“Good, I’ll see you then, I guess. Oh, and I put a little treat for you in your bag,” he responded, and then he left. Clary listened to Reese opening her backpack and the sound of Reese’s Pieces sliding around in the box. Clary smirked and slid in her room, undetected. Everything was falling perfectly into place.

Wednesday morning Reese woke up feeling anxious about the day ahead of her. Watching John and Clary interact the day before had left Reese feeling strange. She felt like maybe she had been wrong about John, that maybe he wasn’t immune to her sister. The way he had smiled and carried Clary’s bag, it made her uneasy... and maybe a little angry.

She had to go to school today. She had to see John, and she had to keep Clary away from him at all costs. Clary had already begun to play her games—Reese had witnessed it with her own eyes. Clary was smiling at him and he was smiling at her, and not at Reese. Before, Reese hadn’t given a damn about what people said. Now she was going crazy with wonder: what had Clary and John talked about? How far in over his head was he? Would Reese lose John as she had lost Kennedy? She knew that was a stupid question. She had never had Kennedy to begin with. And she certainly didn’t have John.

Reese pulled her hair into a side ponytail, allowing a breeze to caress her neck. Her bangs fell messily over her eyes, and she rushed through the process of eyeliner, mascara, and chap-stick with SPF protection. She picked up the first things in her drawer that were clean—a plain white muscle tank and a pair of jean short shorts.

“Clary, I’m leaving in ten minutes!” Reese called in warning. She slung her bag over her shoulder and left her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Clary and Reese’s mother would be home for most of the day, while they would be in school. Reese just wanted to check on her mom and make sure that they could take the car. Reese didn’t bother to knock on her mother’s bedroom door, knowing that she would sleep through the noise.

Her mother slept in the middle of the bed, her arms and legs spread, to take up the whole mattress. Her face was half-buried into the pillow with the blanket smothering her mouth. Reese crept up beside her mother and perched herself precariously on the edge of the mattress.

“Mom,” she whispered, even though she knew that it wouldn’t do anything. She reached out a hand and gently shook her mother, successfully startling the single parent into consciousness.

“Reese? What’s the matter?” she slurred.

“Nothing, Mom, we’re going to school. I just wanted to check that we could take the car.”

Her mother nodded, looking at Reese through her sleep-filled eyes.

“Have fun at school,” she told her eldest. Reese couldn’t help but wonder if her mother knew she was using irony. There was no way that today would be fun. School hadn’t been fun for Reese since Clary started high school. Reese never vocalized this to her mother, though. She preferred to suffer in silence—besides she would be graduating this year.

Clary met Reese in the hallway, and the sisters walked in tense silence to the car. The car had always been a piece of shit, clunking and clicking and unreliable. Unfortunately, their mother had been unable to purchase a new vehicle. Reese somewhat blamed Clary for this. Clary had been the one that insisted that they needed laptops, wireless internet, cell phones, and new clothes each school year. That doesn’t even touch on how often Clary feels the need to redecorate, which means paint and brushes and new furniture from IKEA.

But even so, Reese would never want to get rid of the old clunker. It held too many memories of happier times and family trips. The car ride consisted of Clary fiddling with the radio and Reese listening to her walkman. Morning car rides rarely consisted of conversation unless a third party was present. Clary hardly waited for the car to come to a complete stop before she jumped out. Reese watched Clary move toward her group of friends—though Reese wouldn’t give those judgmental gossip queens that specific title.

Reese walked with determination, past all the faces that didn’t stand out. She was reluctant to admit it, but she was looking for John while also keeping an eye out for Kennedy. She wasn’t quite ready to face Kennedy yet; she had no idea how to approach him. She didn’t even know if Kennedy wanted to be approached by her. Reese just didn’t know whether or not to let the situation die. Actually, she did know when the situation could die. Reese would let go of Kennedy when he returned her father’s red flannel shirt to her. No matter what happened in the future, Reese Wallace would get that shirt back. Even if that meant she had to go to his house. Of course, she would return his clothes as well... as soon as she found them.

She never saw Kennedy but heard whispers that he was absent from school again. The whispers didn’t just stop with that fact (which was that he hadn’t shown up for school), no it went on to speculate why. Reese heard that she and Kennedy had a secret love affair and that yesterday they spent the entire day in bed, until Clary caught them. She heard that she and John had dated, but then she cheated on him with Kennedy and John had sent him to the hospital. Her favorite theory, however, was that Kennedy and Reese had been secretly dating, when he slept with Clary and then Reese got her revenge by starting a relationship with John without formally calling off her relationship with Kennedy.

Reese would never speak up and correct these misinformed people. She would never stand up on a table in the cafeteria and announce that there was very little truth to these statements. She wouldn’t tell people that yes, Clary slept with Kennedy. She wouldn’t tell people that she had never dated John or Kennedy. She would never tell people that she and Kennedy were avoiding each other for several reasons. She wouldn’t tell anyone that Clary fucking him while she had to listen was only one of the reasons. Reese definitely wouldn’t admit to anyone that she had had a crush on Kennedy when he had fucked her sister. She wouldn’t tell anyone—not even her mother—that what Kennedy had said about her birthday, had acted like a gun to her head.

She especially wouldn’t say any of this to John. So of course, when she finally found him (or rather, he found her) at lunch, it was all he wanted to discuss.

He had approached Reese at her locker because she wasn’t interested in being in the cafeteria today—not when so much of the gossip circulated around her. She hadn’t seen him coming, and he decided to have fun with it. He leaned against the locker next to hers and waited until she shut her locker door. Her reaction to his sudden appearance fell short of his expectations. Reese didn’t yell or jump violently or even place a hand to her wildly beating heart. She merely looked at him and mirrored his position against the lockers. She leaned her shoulder against her shut locker and crossed her foot behind her ankle.

“Hey,” she greeted with a smile.

“Hey,” he returned, giving her his crooked smile. Reese was relieved to see that Clary hadn’t been around John during the day. She hadn’t been able to locate her tall friend—which had never been a problem for her before—but she had found her sister several times. Clary was never around John and that was all Reese could hope for.

“How has your day been?” Reese asked, to break their silence.

“Well, it’s been alright, I guess. It’s getting better.” John gently nudged Reese with his elbow, pushing her back a bit. She laughed and used the locker to push herself back into a comfortable standing position. And then John’s smile dropped and Reese knew that they were about to have a conversation that she wouldn’t like. She vowed not to leave John in anger, for it might drive him straight to Clary.

“Reese, did you and Kennedy fight on Monday?”

Reese thought those words over carefully. To count as a fight, she would have had to retaliate. It wasn’t a fight. Kennedy, like Reese, hadn’t had the energy to get angry or overly emotional. He had been tired and he had said things that were supposed to hurt. They might have hurt her, had she not shut down at his rough grip.

“No, why do you ask?”

John’s eyes left Reese’s face and trailed down to her arms. His fingers gently trailed down her arm, circling the tender purpling skin. Reese looked down at the bruises that Kennedy had given her—she had noticed them in the shower last night but had forgotten all about them this morning. Reese should have been smart and worn a long sleeve shirt to hide them, to avoid the rumours and the questions.

“Where’d the bruises come from, Reese?” John answered her question with a question. His voice was tight and controlled. Reese saw the effort it was taking him to stay calm and knew that she couldn’t point the finger at Kennedy. If she did tell John, he’d react negatively toward Kennedy.

So she chose silence. That seemed to be enough evidence for John. He started to mumble and vent about how much he was going to hurt Kennedy when “that pussy shows his face.” Reese leaned away from John, and watched as his face grew steadily angrier. It was getting to the point that John was beginning to frighten her.

“John, stop it,” Reese said. She gripped his wrist and pulled his clenched fist toward her. Cupping his hand in both of hers she began to smooth out his fingers. John watched her begin to rub his hand in a soothing manner.

“I know what you and Kennedy are doing,” John stated in his forced calm voice. Reese’s confusion showed on her face. How could John know what they were doing when she didn’t even know? Perhaps Kennedy had told John something, they were friends after all. But Reese had a feeling that Kennedy hadn’t said anything to John that most people didn’t already know.

“Enlighten me then, what are we doing?” Reese asked, forcing an indifferent tone of voice. She had a feeling that she wasn’t going to like this conversation. It might be one of those conversations where she doesn’t like what she hears and John doesn’t like what he has to say. But that was exactly it, he had to say it and she was going to listen to it.

“You two are avoiding each other. Reese, don’t you see it? You two have been skipping school to avoid this situation. I don’t know what went on between you two before, but now it’s like you can’t face each other. I have no clue what’s wrong with Kennedy, or what happened between you two, but I do know that it has to be fixed.”

“Why do I have a feeling that you want me to fix this?” Reese asked in defeat.

“Because...” John let his reasoning trail off. Reese knew what he wasn’t saying. She’s your sister. Somehow that made every broken heart Clary left behind Reese’s responsibility.

“So, Clary fucked and chucked him and somehow it’s up to me to clean up the mess?” Reese asked, but the question was rhetorical. “No, John, that’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to console every guy who thought with his dick instead of his brain. I’m not going to do that anymore, I’m not going to get involved in Clary’s shit.”

“I was going to say because Kennedy cares about what you think. He’s not skipping school because he got fucked and chucked. He’s skipping school because he’s afraid to face you,” John admitted.

“Well, that’s stupid. I’ve always been the one to care about what he thought about me. Why should he care about what I think? He’s confident and nice and athletic and well liked. Kennedy is so much better than playing into Clary’s hand. Sure he hurt me, because I liked to think that he considered me but I know he didn’t or he wouldn’t have done it. The point is, Kennedy is entitled to make mistakes—“

“Look who we have here. Wave to the camera!” Reese watched John’s eyes divert from her, for the first time in what felt like hours. They grew in size, showing his surprise. He, like Reese, hadn’t been expecting an interruption in their conversation. Reese was scolding herself; hallways weren’t the best place for semi-private conversations. She was aware of the situation. How many people had walked by and heard snippets of their conversation? It was then that she noticed the camera being thrust under John’s nose and she realized that she was fucked. Had any of that been recorded? It could come back to haunt her—to an outsider it could be incriminating. Reese wasn’t aware of moving, not of how shaky she suddenly felt. She did, however, feel like she was burning under the pressure of their audience. Jared Monaco, an acquaintance of Reese’s and a friend of John’s. Next to him looking wary and slightly panicked was his friend Eleanor Marc. Reese had seen her around, but for the most part they didn’t interact. That was entirely her own fault, and she knew that.

“How much of that did you get on camera?” Was Reese going to be persecuted for her words about the boys Clary had dated? Some of them were good people who were thinking with their hearts. Reese couldn’t stand the idea of Kennedy hearing her opinion on them. Had they recorded her praise of him? It surely would sound like she had feelings for Kennedy. Reese was a private person; she stayed out of these situations. She was only in the yearbook twice: once in the team photo for baseball and the picture that said she was a student.

Reese hadn’t meant to sound so demanding or on edge. She had hoped to sound curious, but the reaction Jared had to her words only gave proof that she had failed. Reese was slowly coming apart at the seams. The chubby ginger hesitated to answer Reese’s question. Every time he had seen Reese (usually at a show), she had been quiet. She tended to speak only when she had something worth saying. It was usually dry and witty. Her voice now betrayed her, sounding urgent and worried.

“Not a lot?”

Reese sighed as Jared began to inch backward and lower the camera. Her eyes lingered on his—and she almost let them hypnotize her. They were a fascinating green-grey color that kind of reminded Reese of celery. He blinked and she shook out of her daze only to be thrown back into her insecurity.

She hadn’t meant to lose control. She felt embarrassed and anxious. Reese felt herself losing control, her lip was quivering and her eyes stung and she wanted to run and pretend none of this had happened. Eleanor stepped forward in an almost defensive pose. It was an odd sight to see, this tiny girl standing forth to defend a boy so much bigger. Reese just barely resisted the urge to move backward—not that it would have done her any good. She was already pressed into the lockers.

Eleanor was a pretty girl; she was small—smaller than Reese’s 5’6—and had a mess of prominent freckles along her cheeks and nose. Her hair was long and dark—the same kind of dark brown of her eyes. Reese remembered John mentioning her once. He had stopped by to say hello on his way to hang out with Jared and Eleanor. And then Reese felt John squeeze her shoulder.

“Chill, Reese,” John soothed his friend. She had been on the verge of a breakdown beforehand, being more honest with him than she ever had. “They didn’t hear anything. What are you two doing, anyway?”

“My documentary for Film and Digital Media class,” Elle answered after a brief silence. The petite girl placed her fists onto her hips in a mom-like action. “Jared took it upon himself to be the camera man, but... I think I’m going to fire him now. Is everything alright?” Reese felt a twinge in her stomach, at the way Elle interacted with Jared. The glare... the stance... it all seemed so... fun. And then Elle’s question caught up with Reese’s mind and that twinge turned into a sucker punch. She had been hoping that they wouldn’t ask about the conversation she and John had been having.

Reese was stunned, trying to think of anything she and John could have been speaking about. She needed a lie quick. And nothing was coming to mind. Reese was staring almost unseeingly at Elle, her mind a torrent of plausible reasons. John cleared his throat and gave a barely noticeable squeeze to Reese’s shoulders.

“Well we—“

Reese cut John off—seizing the moment.

“Actually, I was just leaving.” Lying came easily to Reese, and so she said the first thing that came to mind. “I, um, left my lunch in my car. Ah... good luck with your documentary.”

Reese focused her eyes on Elle, speaking mostly to her. She wished that Elle could read into what Reese wasn’t saying. She was trying to tell her that she was sorry for the scene and wished her well. Reese didn’t need any more enemies, especially not an enemy that was a friend of a friend of a friend. Reese couldn’t fathom the idea of looking Elle in the eyes any longer. She needed to make a fast escape before John could stop her and force that sensitive conversation on her again. He was angry and that made him reckless.

Reese easily slipped out from under John’s hand. She had surprised him more than once in the last ten minutes. Her speed-walking ability was probably most surprising of all. She had been weak with John; she was giving him too much power and too much honesty. She was doing what Clary did, stirring up problems between friends. Reese had never wanted John and Kennedy to be at ends, especially not over her. Reese was going to have to fix things with Kennedy—before John tried to.

Disoriented and drowning in thoughts of how to talk to Kennedy, Reese walked past her car. She was only brought back to reality when she nearly stepped off the sidewalk. Reese tried to shake off this new feeling, this sudden worry and caring, when she turned to head back toward her car.

“Shit,” she cursed, easily spying her rather tall friend exiting the school. John was looking around the student parking lot, searching for her car. Reese began to jog toward her car, but the sudden movement attracted John’s attention.

“Reese!” he called out to her, but she was determined to pretend like she couldn’t hear him. Unfortunately, John’s longer legs made his strides more powerful and he caught up to her quickly. Reese had barely gotten her key in the lock before he was putting his hand on the door, forcing it to stay shut. Reese squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard, not quite prepared for another confrontation with him.

John hesitated, his hand half-raised to reach out to his friend. There was so much that he could say, so much that he could do, but nothing was coming to mind. He settled for letting his hand smooth down her hair and travel to her shoulder. He gave it a slight squeeze before his hand seemed to ghost down her arm until it was enclosed over hers. He gently pulled the key from the door and took a step closer to Reese. John hesitated once more, not sure how Reese would react if he leaned down to whisper in her ear, but decided to risk it anyway. He was done with raised voices and being angry, all it did was chase her away.

“Stop running.”