Alive Again

Reese was feeling pensive. Yesterday had seemingly flown by, all because of John. She could feel her face heating up at the mere memory of their little interaction in the parking lot. He had stood so close to her, his chest nearly touching her back. His much larger hand engulfing hers made her knees weak. John was rarely so bold. It had a dizzying affect on her, his unique scent surrounding her. She had been entrapped by him, one hand on hers and the other keeping her caught between him and her car. And the last straw had been when he leaned down to her ear and spoke. He had only said two words, three syllables, and it had sent her into a convulsion.

She couldn’t sleep. Her mind kept going back to that moment in the parking lot. Sometime after he uttered his plea, she had ended up in a comforting embrace and could have sworn she had felt his lips in her hair. Then again, it could have been him heavily exhaling. With her mind constantly racing, Thursday morning dawned too soon. Reese felt like she had just closed her eyes when her alarm went off.

Her hand hit the snooze button—she didn’t trust herself not to go back to sleep. Today was Thursday, also known as the day that she was going to face Kennedy Brock. Reese was tempted to skip school again and avoid a potential conflict. She wasn’t too keen on having anymore bruises either. Reese consoled herself by telling herself that Kennedy might not even be at school today.

Still, she was conscious of how she dressed that morning, unlike every other morning. Reese actually sifted through her closet to find clothes that wouldn’t give Kennedy anymore ammunition. White is the color of friendship, of surrender and usually meant peace. Near the back of her closet, there was a long sleeved white shirt that felt a little big on Reese. Despite the heat, Reese decided to wear jeans. She really didn’t want Kennedy to be able to compare her to Clary.

Satisfied with her peaceful appearance, Reese left her room en route to see her mother. When passing Clary’s door, Reese knocked in rapid succession. Confusion swept through Reese, her mother’s bedroom door was open and the bed was made. Sitting innocently on the pristine covers, were the car keys and a note. The note was basic: here are the keys, take care of your sister, and what time she would be home at. Tonight she would be home by nine, which meant that Clary and Reese would be able to see their mother for longer than twenty minutes in passing.

Reese had been hoping for a conversation with her mother to stall the inevitable trip to school. The ride seemed more tense than usual, but that might have all been in Reese’s head. She was just anxious about seeing Kennedy and possibly having him yell at her in public. At this point, Reese wasn’t sure what to expect from him. She had thought she knew him quite well, when it turned out to be quite the opposite—Reese didn’t know him at all. The perfect Kennedy that Reese had in mind would never have gripped her so tightly or said those things, and he especially wouldn’t have slept with her sister.

If she could, Reese would avoid talking to Kennedy Brock until she died. Unfortunately, she didn’t want John involved. She wasn’t stupid; she knew that John was aware of her slight crush on Kennedy. She had all but screamed it from the rooftop yesterday.

Despite not wanting to arrive to school, Reese and Clary were there almost thirty minutes before class started. This gave Reese a chance to seek Kennedy out, if he arrived at all. She wandered toward the hall where his locker was located. She figured he had to go get his stuff, because he left without his bag on Monday, and according to John, Kennedy hadn’t been to school since. The halls were too silent, Reese’s breathing sounded too loud, and her footfalls made echoes. It was a shock to her that he hadn’t heard or looked up at her approach. He was half inside his locker, digging around through papers. She could hear them crinkling and the metallic clang, whenever Kennedy’s fist came in contact with the locker. Reese tentatively moved toward her friend—if she could still call him that.

Having had so much time to calm down, she wasn’t that angry with Kennedy for what he did. Anger took too much energy. How people could be so hateful was beyond Reese’s comprehension. She had barely been able to stay mad at Kennedy for twenty-four hours.

Reese almost wished this were a dream. Then with each step she took toward Kennedy, the hall would expand and she would never reach her destination. That wasn’t the case though, and all too soon, she was standing next to him. He ceased his movements and eased himself out of the locker, as if having sensed her presence. For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Kennedy looked tired—he had that haunted, sleep deprived look that college kids and single mothers had. His expression was blank, but his eyes seemed dim and his complexion a little on the pale side. He obviously didn’t care about how he looked, his clothes were crinkled and the colors clashed. His hair was sticking up in all directions, looking like it hadn’t seen a brush in days.

To Kennedy, Reese looked tired too. Then again, he had started to notice that she almost always looked tired. She didn’t hide her haunted, sleep deprived look from people—they just got used to seeing it day in and day out that it almost looked natural on her. Her lips were pulled up in a tired half smile. It looked forced and reluctant. Kennedy almost never saw Reese smile, it was very rare and very timid—like her mouth wasn’t used to forming that way. She looked like an angel in her white shirt, seeming more delicate than ever to him.

“Hey Kenny, can we talk?”

Kennedy had feared this. She wanted to talk, most likely about Clare. He wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation, let alone with Reese. His ego (and though he hated to admit it—his heart) was still badly bruised. John had finally coerced Kennedy out of hiding, saying that it only fuelled the rumours.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Kennedy spat, and Reese was taken aback by the venom in his voice. He regretted taking that tone with her, because she hadn’t done anything and yet she always seemed to be taking the brunt of his hurt. But he didn’t apologize or take it back either, because it was true. He had nothing to say to Reese and everything to say to Clare.

At quarter to the time class started, the halls were beginning to fill up with groups of friends preparing for the day. Kennedy slammed his locker and intended to get lost in the crowd. He had taken five steps before Reese called after him, surprising more than just him with her volume.

“I want my shirt back!” Reese didn’t know what made her say it, but she knew it was true. If Kennedy was so careless and willing to toss her aside, she at least wanted her shirt back. She refused to lose that token of affection to a boy with no tact. Kennedy waved over his shoulder, acknowledging her statement but not stopping.

Reese was pouring gas on the sparked rumours, creating a wild fire. Kennedy Brock had, in his possession, Reese Wallace’s shirt. They had to have hooked up right? They school was in an uproar over the scandal. Kennedy was the man; he scored with both of the sisters, something no one else had done. Maybe it had been a threesome.

She tried to ignore the whispers and the stares, going as far as to hide in the library during lunch. Her day had been ruined, all because of her own big mouth. If she had just kept quiet about the damn shirt, then people would still be speculating. They wouldn’t have any proof, and Reese would have been able to blend in. She tried so hard not to let it get to her, but it did and John saw that. Of course, he hadn’t been given the chance to comfort his friend; she had run to her car at the last bell.

Reese was delusional if she thought that by escaping school, she was escaping drama. Clary had been giddy, bouncing in her seat and surrounded by anxious energy; this could only mean that she had heard good gossip, found a new boy, or had discovered a party. Reese didn’t ask her of course, she didn’t want to know. She especially didn’t want to know if John had anything to do with her sibling’s excitement.

Their mother was quick to pick up on the mood when she got home from work. No matter how tired she was, she could always tell when something was wrong with her kids. It always seemed that if Clary was happy or excited, Reese looked even more sallow and sick. She had yet to figure out the connection between one child’s happiness and the unease of the other. Reese was so rarely happy (which her mother didn’t like to think about, if she could help it) that it didn’t seem to matter to Clary, or affect her in any way.

“Mom.” Clary’s voice was loud with excitement and eagerness. Their mother began to share some of her eldest daughter’s unease at this warm greeting. She had barely stepped through the door when her youngest was bounding toward her. Clary wasn’t one to act excited to see her mother, in fact Reese and their mother were under the impression that she liked being without parental supervision. Reese wasn’t as much under the impression—she knew that her sister enjoyed the absent parent. Reese waved from her favorite chair in the living room—placed right below a lamp and beside the stereo speaker.

“Hey baby, how was school?” This wasn’t a question that was asked every day at five o’clock while the family sat down for dinner. Clary and Reese might get asked how school was once a month. Clary faltered—school had been hell. Her friends had made snide comments about Kennedy and Reese all day. Of course Clare played it off like it didn’t matter (Clary had said it so much that she almost believed it by now) and told them who she was considering now, which was John. The appeal of going after the seniors had long since worn off, but John was a whole new territory. He had this untouchable quality to him, something admirable and challenging. Her friends doubted her; because it was so obvious that John had his heart set on one girl—the one girl who couldn’t see it.

That one girl happened to be Clary’s older sister, not an unattainable girl, but the unattainable girl. Many boys had tried, but none had succeeded. Clare was positive that her sister hadn’t even been kissed yet.

The highlight of Clary’s day had been when Jessica had told her about an upperclassmen party, one which they were easily able to get invites to. This was exciting for the sophomores—it was a senior and college party.

“It was fine, I got an A on my biology test, and Danielle invited me to a party tomorrow. Can I go?” Clary asked eager as can be. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and nibbling on her bottom lip. Her mother had paused in the midst of kicking off her shoes.

“I thought that you, your sister, and I could have a family dinner tomorrow. I don’t have to work, for once.” Her tone was clipped and a forced calm. It’s hard for any mother to accept that their kids are growing up and prefer to hang out with friends than them on a Friday night. It’s even harder when it feels like you’re missing it, and that’s exactly how Reese and Clary’s mother felt.

“So, I don’t understand why I can’t go. The party doesn’t start until after dinner.” Clary’s tone was already getting defensive, the volume increasing and her attitude showing.

“Because, Clary, I’d like us to spend the night like a family.” Reese watched the conversation from behind the safety of her book. She was tensing with each response, the conversation becoming more like a tennis match, and was prepared to sprint to her room.

“If you hadn’t noticed, Mom, we aren’t much of a family! You’re not around much are you? I kind of prefer it when you aren’t around trying to make Reese and I act like something we aren’t!”

Reese swallowed. Clary always went for the low blows when she was arguing with Mom. She was capable of reading between the lines, and of understanding her sister’s comments. Their mother was always taken aback by how brash her youngest daughter could be. But she, like Reese, was still capable of hearing the things Clary didn’t say.

She was saying that their family hadn’t been repaired since Dakota left. She was saying that their mother had as good as walked out on them, too. She was saying that she and Reese weren’t kids, they weren’t friends, and they had lost that sisterly bond. Reese felt her stomach clench with guilt—she kind of agreed with her little sister. She and Clary had been living more like roommates for five years. They were rarely in the same room as each other and barely acknowledged each other in passing. They had lost their sisterly bond, they weren’t friends, and Reese wasn’t going to be a kid for long, not that her birthday would be widely celebrated.

“We are a family, and we’re going to fucking act like it Clarissa Mae Wallace.”

Reese hid her smirk behind her book. Her mother could stand tall and rigid, glare at Clary and give her the full name treatment, but she could never do that to Reese, not that she ever gave their mother a reason to.

“You know, this is so unfair. Reese gets to go play baseball with all her friends!”

This was news to Reese, as well as news to her mother. Suddenly the aggressive, angry mama bear look was directed at her, and she tensed even more behind her book.

“I don’t recall Reese telling me that.”

Reese wanted to die. Her mother’s voice was calm—too calm; the kind of calm that left a person shaking in fear.

“Yeah, when did I ever say that?” Reese was quick to jump to her own defense—she hadn’t accepted any offer of baseball.

“You said it to John. I asked him if he was going to the party on Friday, and he said that he might if you wanted to go after baseball and pizza.”

“When did you talk to John?” Of all the questions Reese could have asked her sister, she asked this one. It wasn’t a concern that John was under the impression that she had accepted his offer—and that she might go to a party with him. What was a concern, to Reese, was that he and Clary had spoken without her to witness it.

And Clary had asked him about the party. Had she been working her way up to asking for a ride? Was she going to ask him to save her a dance (did John dance?) or see if he wanted to meet up? Would Clary ask him out right if he wanted to fuck her? No, her sister had more tact than that... at least Reese hoped she did.

“I sat with him for a bit at lunch.” Upstairs the phone rang—Clary had a nasty habit of not putting them back where they belong. Their mother stomped upstairs, acting like a petulant child, while the sisters had a stare down. There was a malignant glint in Clary’s eyes and a cold calculating look in Reese’s. It was silent downstairs between the two, Reese was trying to form a question—the words were on the tip of her tongue.

“Where was Kennedy?” He wouldn’t have sat with John and Clary would he?

“We thought he was with you,” Clary smirked and Reese glared—her sister spoke with a faux innocence that only she seemed to be able to pull off. Reese couldn’t be the only one to see through her disguises, could she? Reese wondered if Clary had wanted people to think that she and Kennedy were more than they were. Right now, they weren’t anything—not even friends. What was Clary’s angle?

Clary wanted to laugh at Reese’s expression. On the outside, her sister seemed composed and indifferent—but Clary could see it in the way her jaw was clenched and read the blind panic in her eyes. She wanted to know what had happened at lunch but would never compromise her pride and ask. It had never fazed Reese when people would talk about her—because most of the time they didn’t know her and probably never would. However, this was Clary and John talking about her—two people who she knew and who knew her. It was putting her on edge, and Clary loved it.

Their mother reappeared on the stairs, looking down at her two silent children. In one hand she gripped the railing, in the other the cordless phone from the living room.

“Clary, you can go to that party, and Reese, you can go with your friends. I’m not going to be home tomorrow, after all.” She informed.

Clary didn’t act grateful or even happy about this. She scoffed and stormed past their mother. For a moment Reese and her mother just stared—her mother looking perplexed, while Reese counted down in her head. The slamming of Clary’s bedroom door echoed for five seconds.

Looking at her mother, Reese could see all the hurt and the exhaustion. She desperately wanted to know why her mother had changed the plans so suddenly, but felt like she had lost the right to ask about her mother’s business after Clary’s display. She didn’t want her mother to be hurt or sad and therefore didn’t want to step on her toes with her inquiry. She felt like somehow, she had let her mother down. No, actually, Reese felt like Clary had been letting their mother down enough for the both of them.

“I can stay home tomorrow,” Reese offered, to appease her mother. She got a forced smile in return, and saw the affection, the acceptance and the pride in her mother’s eyes.

“No baby, you go have fun with your friends.”