The Wall Between

Dallas heat beat down on Clarke’s skin as she bushed a lose strand of hair behind her ear. She gnawed on her lip, teeth worrying at the already chapped flesh. She had chewed on her the entire class session, knowing that she was going to be getting her quiz back. A red pen had marked the letter D+ on it, circled with the ratio of how she had done. Clarke had known the moment she took it that she didn’t do well, one of the nights that she had to move to her living room to study.

Clarke’s feelings were not as bright as the yellow of her shirt. She had dressed in yellow, a crop top that let just a small amount of flesh peek out in hopes that the shirt would bring her good luck. Bad luck couldn’t follow you like a cloud if you were dressed as bright as the sun, right? At least, that’s what Clarke was telling herself.

But there it was, a D. A quiz grade that had brought her down to a C. In her program, she was not allowed to get below a 79. Not that she was striving to get only a 79. Clarke was generally a straight A student, but for some reason, Anatomy and Physiology 2 were kicking her ass. She was having trouble wrapping her head around things, and establishing what was what. Bones she could do. Muscles as well. But everything else? She was struggling wildly.

Not sure what else to do as she walked to her car, she pulled out her phone, dialing her brothers number. Collin answered after three rings. “Sweet baby sister,” he said in a singsong voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh shut up, I call you three times a week, Coll.”

“I’m only teasing.” He paused for a second and added, “Hey you’re out of class right? Do you want to catch some lunch?”

“Actually, that sounds amazing. Can I ask Piper to go, though? I was supposed to see her sometime today and I’d have to start studying after lunch.”

“Yeah, call up Pipes and I’ll meet you somewhere.”

“Sammy’s?” Sammy’s Bar-B-Q was one of their favorite places to eat and Clarke was starving. She wanted to sate her appetite with insane amounts of food until she felt like she was going to explode, and then she wanted to not think about how hard she was going to have to study that night. “I need a lot of food.”

“Absolutely. I’ll meet you guys there.”

Few things like the promise of a lot of food, her best friend, and her brother could make Clarke feel better. Getting into her truck, she turned up her stereo as loud as it could go, blasting Red Hot Chili Peppers through her speakers. Clarke loved all types of music. Every genre, every type of strain, every sound. It didn’t matter. She of course, had her favorites, but she could find love in every song. Some of them spoke to her mind, some of them spoke to her heart.

As she drove through Dallas, the vibrations running through the steering wheeler calmed her, muttering the words as she drove on the interstate to Scar Tissue. Piper’s apartment was on the way, Clarke turning off almost as soon as she had gotten on the interstate, picking up her phone and speaking into the phone to text Piper.

When she pulled up to Piper’s loft apartment, the blonde was already outside, moving from the busy sidewalk to the car. People blared their horns as Clarke stopped in the middle of the street. She didn’t care, pressing her middle finger to her drivers-side-window as took a swig of water from her tervis.

Piper yanked the door open, yelling, “Fuck you!” A horn outside of the truck was blaring until the blonde got in and closed the door, making an angry sound as she looked at Clarke. “People are so rude! As if they can’t wait for two seconds for me to get in a car! It isn’t like this is the busiest street in all of Dallas!”

“People are impatient.”

Piper made a face. “Why do you sound dead inside?”

Clarke continued into traffic, her eyes sliding to look over Piper. Her hair was down and she was in a black cropped-top and high waist jeans, her lips a fiery rogue. Clarke assumed the lipstick was new and she was trying it on for size. “Says the girl who is wearing all black.”

“I got new boots,” Piper muttered, sticking her foot up on the dash to show them off. They were cute, Clarke had to admit. Made of black leather with a stretch of fabric in the side for bending room. “Acne Studios.”

“You’re my size, right?”

“Yes, if I could just get you out of,” Piper said, straining against her seatbelt to look over the center console and down at Clarke’s foot pressing on the gas. Clarke grinned. “Those fucking converse. Seriously, I think you wear them everywhere if you’re not in heels.”

“They’re comfortable and they go with everything.”

“Are you going to wear them on your wedding day?”

“Perhaps I will!”

“You absolutely will not.” Piper leaned back into her set, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. Both her feet were on the dash, now. She was drumming along to the song change; an old one by Oasis that Clarke couldn’t remember the name to. “I will not allow you to wear those damn shoes for the rest of your life.”

It was a known fact that Piper didn’t actually hate Clarke’s converse. Clarke had been wearing them ever since they had met, worn and tired. But they were shoes good for all times. She could wear them with a sundress and still look cute, she could run in them if the time came for it, and she could do farm work in them, even if it made them extremely dirty. Clarke couldn’t think of anything that she couldn’t do in them, except attend something formal.

“I got a D on my quiz,” Clarke admitted finally. Though Piper was not a particularly patient person, she had learned the easiest way to get things out of Clarke was by pretending Clarke wasn’t upset. Clarke would eventually blurt out whatever it was, as was her fashion. “I’ve now got a 74.”

“Did you feel like you were ready when you took it?”

“No, I completely blanked.” Piper made a sound and let her silence fill the gap. She was waiting for Clarke to say more, and Clarke did want to say more. She turned onto a narrow street, careful to avoid a group of bikes. “It was one of the nights where Tyler was loud.”

“I enjoy that we used his name now, instead of just ‘neighbor.’ Do you always get lower grades when he’s loud?”

“Yes.”

“Have you mentioned it to him?”

“No, I mean I can just move to my living room and study there. I just need to figure out how to not be obsessed with studying in my…” Clarke made a face as she realized how dumb she was about to sound. “Study.”

“Clarke, I’ve been at your house when he’s doing his thing. It actually sounds like there is a war of cats going on in there. I don’t exactly know what it is that he does to make these girls sound like they’ve been touched by the gospel, but you can hear it in your apartment, everywhere C.”

It was true. Clarke had been making breakfast two days after she had offered to keep Marshall and heard him. It bothered her to a normal degree, but she put on music and drowned it out. It was not a difficult thing, to ignore the sounds that Tyler made. It was just something about his business and her study time conflicting that was becoming an issue.

Clarke had discussed it with him before. She remembered the way he had leaned against the wall while she asked him to keep it down, and how he said he would. It had been one of the first few times where Clarke had a conversation with him. She even remembered the way his lips curved in a smile at her, like he was amused at something he had thought of.

Making a mental note to warn him that she had to study the next few nights, Clarke parked her truck, backing in with ease. Piper sighed when Clarke didn’t continue the conversation revolving around her neighbor and jumped down from the truck, Clarke meeting her on the other side. Knowing Piper was resisting pushing the matter further, Clarke threw her arm around her best friend, pulling her in roughly to her side.

“Okay, whatever,” Piper laughed, shoving Clarke lightly away. “Is Colls meeting us here?”

“Yup.”

“Free lunch.”

Clarke laughed loudly. “The best part.”

A sense of ease started flowing through Clarke. She never mediated or did yoga, or really did anything that was considering cleansing. But this was as close as she could get to it, to feel like the toxins were seeping out of her skin. Piper and Collin where Clarke’s favorite people. Of course, her sister was one of those people as well, but her sister was a mother and a teacher, and had little time to listen to Clarke sigh and talk about a bad grade on a quiz.

When telling Collin about it, he kissed her on top of the head and told her it wouldn’t be the end of the world. She knew that it wouldn’t be, but it sounded better coming from him. Clarke knew all these things, that a D wasn’t her death sentence and that she could bring it up with one amazing test grade. But it was that slight fear of knowing that her program required a certain number that bothered her.

Numbers were something of a bother to Clarke. It wasn’t that she was particularly horrible with math. She had passed math classes and never struggle with them. It was putting numbers on things that sat unwell with Clarke. A number to a weight of a person, their size, a number to how much their jobs were worth paying. How many people you've slept with, how many relationships you've had.

It was all very strange to her and for some reason, it bothered her.

Sharing an impossible amount of ribs between the three of them, Clarke let the happiness fill her up as Collin talked about some of his clients that he worked with. He, as well as Reed that Clarke worked with, were personal trainers. Collin had been athletic his entire life until his injury. And he figured out that he could still be athletic, just not in the way that he had always planned on. Clarke admired him for not drowning himself in some sort of office job while hating the way his football career went. It couldn’t be helped and Collin exuded that.

As he always did, Collin paid the bill even though the two girls tried to argue, albeit meekly. It was something he had always done for them. He had adopted Piper as a younger sister too, for as long as she had been friends with Clarke. The three of them were always loyal to one another and protective, something that Clarke was extremely thankful for, despite Piper having been madly in love with Collin once upon a time.

On her way home, Clarke shot Tyler a text. She had written it and then rewritten it nearly seven times before Piper snatched it from her and sent one herself. All it said was that she had two tests for the next two days and that any silence would be greatly appreciated. Clarke’s palms were sweaty at the thought of texting him, but not because she was nervous for a reply or that he would think something of the text. It made her nervous simply because any time she had given him an inch of conversation, he took it upon himself to become friendly.

Not that she was complaining. Tyler Seguin being friendly just flat out made her nervous.

At home with Dixie chewing on a new bone, Clarke made herself a huge cup of coffee and grabbed countless books and put them on her desk. Her desktop was turned off, pushed all the way back against her wall. She sat down in the desk and pulled her feet up onto the seat. Within minutes she was sucked into her textbook, pen in her hand writing down things of importance.

Clarke lost track of time. Her eyes burned from her lack of blinking for long periods of time and when she flinched at the vibration from her phone, it was the first time she looked up from her book. The clock told her she had been note taking and highlighting for over an hour. She took a swig of water and pulled her phone towards her across the desk, pausing when she saw Tyler’s name flicker across the screen. He had texted her. Her heart hammered and she took her fingers off of the screen, chewing on her lip. Clarke then shook her head, reminding her that she had text him earlier about having to study. Sliding her finger across, she read it easily.

Are you home? Clarke licked her lips and decided that she didn’t need to respond with anything more than a ‘yes.’ She sent the text and felt nervous, despite it just being an answer to a very simple question. He could have just knocked on the door and see if she answered. Her phone lit up again and she glanced at the text. Can you do me the biggest favor in the world?

Need someone to watch Marshall?

No, I took the wrong duffle this morning and I don’t have any of my shit for practice and you’re the only person I can think of that can navigate my house and that I trust.

Trust? Clarke made a face. He didn’t know her that well. What if she was a thief? She could go into his house and steal all his valuables and never see him again. Or she could be a creep and go through his underwear draw and smell his shirts. Clarke laughed out loud at the thought because she was neither of those things. But going into his house was something she had already done. So she told him that she would do it if he gave her the address to the arena they practiced in and if she described the bag. He did both, as well as telling her where the spare key was. (Under the mat, the most obvious place.)

Finding the key, Clarke let herself into his home. It looked the same as before, just emptier without his bright presence. Marshall came lopping up to her and she bent down smiling, sparing a few minutes to give the lab a few kisses on the head and pet him. When she had given him a considerable amount of love, she trailed to the living room where he said the bag should be. She found it on the floor in front of his impressive flat screen and picked it up, making a sound. It was heavier than she thought it would be but she could manage fine, putting it on her shoulder.

“Later, Marsh,” she cooed at the dog, letting herself back out of the apartment. Clarke didn’t feel odd just letting herself in and out like she thought she would. She felt fine and glad that she wasn’t still staring at her textbook straight on, though she knew she needed to switch gears and start studying for another class.

Tossing the bag in the passenger seat, Clarke punched in the address of the arena Tyler was at. Apparently they practiced in a different place than they played, which really made no sense to Clarke. She had only been to one hockey game in her life and it had been when she was a little girl with her two siblings and her father. From what she could remember it was enjoyable, but she never understood the game.

Looking at the map as Clarke pulled onto the road, she realized why Tyler picked their building to live in. Not only was it close to where he played, but it wasn’t far from where he practiced. It made it easy on Clarke to find the building, park and haul the bag out of the truck, despite her small frame. She hurried along and walked into the front door, instantly lost. Someone standing in the lobby looked up at her and pointed her towards the set of doors on the left.

Walking quickly she followed the way they pointed, walking into a small arena. The rink was small and simple with only one small set of bleachers. It was obvious this wasn’t used for any kind of game, just practice. A few people sat in the stands and Clarke instantly felt awkward standing and looking at the players on the ice, having no idea which one was Tyler. Until she recognized the leaning figure near the glass where a door was open to the ice. Rolling her eyes at his stance, Clarke hurried over to him.

“Did you stuff this full of bricks?” She asked him, surprising him. Tyler turned around. He had skates on his feet and an under armor t-shirt straining across his chest. Clarke wondered if he wore it because he knew it showed off his impressive build. She held out the bag to him. “Seriously, I workout and it weighs a ton.”

“Maybe you’re working out wrong.”

She pulled the bag towards herself as Tyler reached for the bag. “I can always just take it back home.”

Tyler grinned. “I’m kidding. It has a bunch of shit in it from tape, gloves, shirts and all sorts of weird stuff. You probably aren’t interested.” He took the back from her hands and she crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the cool of the ice chilling her. “You’re a life saver.”

“It’s what I do. Is that all you needed?”

“It is.” He looked up at her as he pulled out tape from his back, tossing it to the person he had been talking to. Clarke smiled at him and nodded her head. He was dressed in full attire, the number fourteen pressed on his practice jersey with the name Benn across the back. Clarke was unaware of which brother this was, but her brother told her there were two. “This is Jamie, by the way, the captain. Jamie, this is my friend Clarke.”

Clarke held out one hand and shook his. He had to remove his glove to shake her hand, smiling kindly at her. “I’m his neighbor.” Tyler shot her one of his unreadable glances as he put the bag on his shoulder. She mentally smacked herself, not sure why she needed to make the distinction. “If that’s all you needed, I’m going to head out.”

“Why don’t you stay? It’s not technically open practice today but it doesn’t matter.”

“I have a lot of studying to do.”

“Yeah and I bet you have books in your car.” Clarke made a face at him and he laughed loudly, the sound filling her. “I thought so. Stick around, it won’t kill you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She has a point,” Jamie quipped. “Tyler tends to send pucks flying into the stands.”

Tyler clapped his captain on the shoulder. There was certain ease to the gesture that made Clarke think they were good friends. Obviously they were on the same team, but Clarke though there was ease between them that mimicked the ease between her and Piper. “He’s joking. I’ve never known anyone to watch a hockey practice suffer from life threatening injuries. Sit, Clarke.” He gestured to a bench. “If you make it through practice, you can study all you want later in blissful silence.”

Tyler skated away from her. Jamie hesitated by the wall and Clarke examined him. Dark hair that was pushed out of his face with either sweat or gel, round but handsome features, and brown eyes that had that same genuine kindness that Tyler’s had. “You don’t have to stay.” He glanced to where Tyler was standing in line to take a shot at the goal. Clarke didn’t follow his line of vision, fixing her eyes on the man in front of her. “He asks for a lot sometimes. But you don’t have to stay… unless of course you want to.” Clarke shrugged for an answer and he smiled. “I see. It was nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Perhaps you’ll stay and watch him make a fool of himself, neighbor.”

Jamie skated away from her. Clarke looked at the bleachers. The people in them didn’t seem to be family or friends as much as they were people who worked with the organization. Clarke thought about the huge D that had been circled on her quiz and let her eyes go back to the rink where Tyler took a puck and took off with it. He was graceful, cutting across the ice smoothly before pulling his arm back and slapping the puck. It went wide, hitting the glass with a sound loud enough to make Clarke flinch. He glanced her way and grinned.

After a trip to retrieve books, Clarke took a seat on the edge of the bench next to her. Her interest was piqued and Clarke was nothing short of curious, her eyes glancing back and forth from the different jerseys with numbers on them. Tyler’s was stamped with a large ninety-one.

Once again Clarke was struck by how odd it was that people were assigned numbers. Whenever she thought about Tyler in terms of them, forty-nine had always come to mind. But now there was another added to the equation. Ninety-one or forty-nine, it didn’t matter. Clarke found herself settling in and alternating between taking notes and watching practice.