<<Chapter6 Chapter 8 >>

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Jamie thought very seriously about turning back around and waving Marie down to come back, but Jenna kept flashing a brilliantly happy smile at him as she waited patiently at the front door, it's deep red paint reflecting on her cheek in the dark moonlight. His hand hovered over the door handle for a few moments, key inserted, before he finally turned it and opened the door. Jenna burst through the threshold, feet pattering across the floor as she ran for the dining room, which was always the place he went to wait for them. He'd sit at the table calmly, usually reviewing the bills with an utterly stoic expression on his now weathered face. Jamie stood at the door for a few moments, tip of his nose beginning to warm from the chill outside, crossing his arms over his chest to ward off the remainder of it. He could feel the cool air begin to dissipate in the warm interior as Jenna called "Daddy!" happily. Jamie waited for a response, nose wrinkling at the smell of bitter coffee in the air. The man said nothing. Jenna repeated herself several times before Jamie heard a shuffling, and he finally answered in a gruff voice, "It's past your bedtime."
There was an attempt at a nurturing tone in this, but through everything the attempt shattered before the words even left his mouth. Jenna seemed to pay this no mind, which was typical for her. She was too young to understand those types of subtleties.
"Tuck me in!"
"Of course."
Jamie stood silently at the door, unsure if he could move. He did not snap out of this feeling until his father passed by, Jenna held awkwardly in his arms. He stopped when he saw Jamie at the door, opening his mouth to say something, only to close it a few moments later, furrowing his dark brows as he turned away to head down the hall. He knew his feeble attempts would be lost on his son. Jamie watched his father until he was out of sight before making his way to the kitchen, taking the spot he knew he'd be in for quite a while while he tried to squeeze some explanation from the man. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the clock on the microwave in the kitchen, wondering how long it would take this time. 10 p.m. on the dot. He stared at the glowing green numbers until he could no longer read them, eyes unfocused, vaguely overhearing his father reading a familiar story in Jenna's room. He shivered slightly, shaking off the last remnants of the cold night air, turning to look at the piano on the other side of the room. That was why the man waited for them here. He felt her presence in that piano, just as everyone else did. But he would never touch it again. He avoided the instrument, and relished in it's presence all at the same time. For hours at a time he would sit, watching it as if it would suddenly come alive with her, as he slowly sipped away at the flavor of the day. Judging by the heavy scent, he guessed it was strong coffee today. A quick scan of the conjoining kitchen confirmed this, as a steaming cup was sitting on the counter in the darkened room. Jamie took a deep breath, pulling off his hoodie and exhaled heavily, focusing his hearing again. The door at the end of the hall clicked shut as he hung it on the neighboring chair, and footsteps followed. Jamie tensed the moment the man stepped in the room and turned into the kitchen, stopping momentarily to grab his coffee. Looking down his straight nose with a stoic expression, he stared into the cup for several prolonged minutes, adjusting his square glasses before hastily dumping the liquid into the sink, dropping the cup in behind it. Jamie narrowed his eyes as his father opened the fridge, which was now fully stocked, and pulled out a crystal clear beer bottle. The frown on Jamie's face deepened, the man was far more frustrating under the influence. It seemed like a very long several moments before he finally took the seat across from Jamie, slouching back in the chair as he popped off the beer cap and set it neatly on the table, adjusting it so the words on it were in perfect alignment. It had always been odd to him, that his father would so readily drink alcohol, a man who could not stand disorder, or lack of control in his presence. One of the many reasons Jamie was often half glad he was gone for so long. He opened his mouth a few times, as if prepared to say something, before finally uttering a word, bottle halfway to his mouth.
"Some of those bills are late."
Jamie furrowed his brows tensely, holding his tongue with great effort. It wasn't as if he hadn't expected that kind of reaction, late bills were a terrible pet peeve for his father, but he had still hoped the words wouldn't be uttered. He just kept his eyes trained on the man, carefully calculating an answer, noting the grey streaks beginning to run through his dark red hair, and the wrinkles forming between his neat brows. Martin Fioni had always been a well manicured man, and it seemed to Jamie that this had become more obsessive after his mother had died.
"What happened?" his father said mechanically, taking a slow sip from the tall bottle.
Jamie blinked a few times, wondering how he was supposed to answer that. What did he mean what happened? Did he honestly expect Jamie to be able to pay them all so easily? He had to know it was near impossible...if he expected it why didn't he just do it himself? Jamie couldn't count on both hands how many times this question had popped into his head.
"I didn't expect to have to pay them all." he replied curtly.
"Expectation gets you nowhere."
Jamie clenched his jaw, "So I shouldn't expect you to come back at all then. Expecting that certainly gets me nowhere."
"We all expect a lot of things," he replied, infuriatingly stoic, "it usually ends in disappointment, doesn't it?"
"Why were you gone so long." Jamie demanded, tired of playing this little game, averting his eyes to mask his fuming gaze. Was that supposed to be some sort of fatherly gesture? Teaching him a 'valuable life lesson'? As if he had any right to teach Jamie anything.
"What business is that of yours?"
"I think I'm entitled to know, considering..." he trailed off, grinding his teeth.
He didn't want to suffer the frustrating consequences if this discussion got too heated, although this idea was getting more and more appealing the longer the conversation ensued.
"I was busy."
"You couldn't be busy here?"
"No," he replied roughly, "I couldn't."
"You can't just leave for months on end-"
"Why not?"
"Because!" he exclaimed exasperated, "I can't DO this! I can't work enough to pay all of this! I'm not the one who's supposed to be raising Jenna-"
"That's what happens when someone dies Jamie," he interrupted bluntly, "the rest of the family helps out."
"Helping out?!" Jamie replied heatedly, "Helping out is one thing, completely taking over for you is another!"
"I'm working every day-"
"But I'm the one paying all the bills! I don't have a real job, I CAN'T have a real job. You expect everything in order when you get back-"
"Which it wasn't..."
"BECAUSE IT'S IMPOSSIBLE! I have school, and unless I can somehow rid myself of the need to sleep, or time suddenly decides to lengthen the day, then I can't possibly work enough to pay for YOUR responsiblities."
The man took a long swig of his beer, seeming to ignore the seething glare Jamie was directing his way. When he was finally finished, he placed the bottle on the table with a 'clink', and brought his eyes up to meet Jamie's.
"Well, you better figure out the solution soon." he replied simply.
He got up from the table and headed to the kitchen, tossing the bottle in the trash and heading for the refrigerator.
"What do you mean?" Jamie asked quietly, stomach dropping.
"I mean," he answered evenly, pulling out another beer, "figure it out, or you'll be in trouble. I'm leaving again at the end of the week. I don't know when I'll be back, but I've got some things to do."
"The end of the week?! But you just got here!"
"I'm sure you're happier when I'm gone anyway." he replied, voice low.
"Well...who's fault is that really." Jamie said under his breath, running a hand through his hair. It still held the chill from the cold outside.
The man paused for a moment, jaw clenching at Jamie's words. It was the first reaction he had shown any type of emotion through. The moment Jamie saw it however, was the moment it was gone. He looked away from his father, exhaling in frustration. What did he have to say to get through to him? It had always been a losing battle. Anyone aware of the situation told him to do something about it, confront him, say something to knock some sense back into his head. What was Jamie supposed to say? There were very few things that would warrant any sort of emotion from him, and the only type it ever was was anger. Having arguments like that even once a month was exhausting just to think about.
"Uncle Ryan came here while you were gone."
This seemed to grab his attention at least slightly, as he lowered his tall frame back into the chair across from Jamie, with a mildly interested expression on his face.
"What did he have to say?" he replied tensely, eyes trained diligently on his son.
"He said if he comes back in a few weeks and you're not here..." Jamie trailed off, unsure he was ready to commit to this threat, but in all honesty he was at his wits end. Something had to be done, or else everything would fall farther apart than it already was, "he said he would call the police."
His heart thudded heavier in his chest as he uttered the words. A shade of color left his father's face as he took a long drawn out swig of his drink, seeming to delay his need to reply to this.
"Did he?" he finally mutter monotonously, "Why would he do that..."
Jamie stared at him for a few moments with disgusted shock, then got out of his chair quickly, suddenly temper so flared he couldn't sit still any more. He was poised and ready to hurry out of the room before he said something that pushed too far, but before he could stop himself, he turned around to face his father.
"Mom would never be okay with this." he cut across, voice tremulous with utter frustration. Talking to him was like talking to a giant impenetrable wall of ice. He never wanted to do this to his father, he didn't want him arrested, he saw no other alternative but to threaten him, or turn his mother against him. She more than anything was his last resort, the only thing that seemed to stir anything in the man. If he could just stay for a few weeks and wait, just leave a little bit less, for shorter periods of time..."She'd have called the police on you YEARS ago."
He could see the terrible expression forming on his father's face, even mentioning her was asking for the worst, but everything else he tried was useless. So he plowed on, strangely encouraged by the man's quickly rising temper, allowing the words to spill like poison from his lips.
"She would hate you for this."
His father stood very slowly, the acid of his son's words draining the color from his face, and walked swiftly up to him. Jamie flinched, taking note of just how much taller his father was, but held his ground as the man grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward.
"DON'T-TALK-ABOUT-HER." he said through gritted teeth, pulling him closer.
Jamie did not reply, he merely held his father's stare, waiting for him to let go. Maybe he had broken down that external emotionless barrier, but he could see it had done hardly anything to get through to him. They stared for a good few moments longer before his father pushed him away suddenly and stormed out of the room, heading down the hall and slamming the bedroom door behind him. Jamie stared after him a while, mind a little numb from the encounter, then finally looked away and fixed his shirt, glare still fixed on his face. He stood there for a few more moments, looking from the hall, to the bills setting on the table, frown deepening before his eyes finally rested on the piano at the other side of the room. The tension in his shoulders slowly melted away as he walked towards it, drawn to its comforting presence. There had been many nights with far worse outcomes than this, and far worse arguments, but that did not make it any easier. Of course, it wasn't entirely his father's fault, he provoked the man purposefully, he just wasn't sure there was another way to get the words to sink in, as if they ever did at all. Jamie ran a finger along the top of the piano, cringing slightly at the dust that had settled there. One hand rested on the smooth surface, the other raised as he studied the dirt stuck on his fingers. His hands were shaking. He quickly shoved them in his pockets with a deep frown, and started for the hallway slowly. As he passed the living room, he saw a light out of the corner of his eye. Squinting into the darkened room, he headed for the source of the dim light illuminating the front window, blinking a few times as it extinguished. He leaned in close to the chilled glass, peering out at the small portion of street visible between the trees. There was a car parked there. He had seen this car several times in the past few weeks, but he could never see the driver in the absence of his headlights, which were turned off the moment he parked it seemed. Jamie squinted, trying to make out some features, or even slightly more than the general outline of the driver's silhouette. It wasn't long before the car lights turned back on and the mysterious figure drove away. There were only two houses on Jamie's long street, their house and the McCormick's, and whoever it was seemed more keen to pull as close to his house as possible. Jamie pulled back from the window, watching the car zoom past again before it disappeared the way it came, not even the driver's silhouette visible anymore from the bright headlights. Whatever the reasoning for this, he was too tired at the time to think on it, and headed off to bed, dragging his feet as he went.

Marie opened her eyes groggily the following morning, feeling for some reason as if she had been hit by a mac truck. She jumped when she heard her phone ring again loudly, turning to look at it with a surprisingly intense glare. So that's what woke her up.
"Yes?" she answered it with a sickeningly sweet tone.
Marie was never one to be happy when woken abruptly.
"Hey, it's Britney."
Marie blinked a few times, suddenly feeling very alert. She'd forgotten Britney had called her last night. In fact, in her grogginess, and her frustration the previous night, she had forgotten briefly about the little rendez-vous they had planned before. A block of ice dropped into her stomach upon remembering, and feeling restless, she threw back the covers and got up.
"Oh...hi." she said shortly, combing out her hair in the mirror.
Not that Britney could see her really, but for some reason Marie felt she should look a little better than just woken up. Though it was a large part of her preparatory mask for the day, so perhaps it did make a bit of sense.
"Um-sorry about the other day..."
Marie waited a few moments, hoping for an explanation. Britney however, just continued right on without a word as to why she never showed.
"I was thinking we could get together for brunch today..."
Marie glanced at the clock. It was 11:30 already. She felt a little flustered at being so pressed. There had to be time set aside to prepare for such an encounter.
"Er...okay I guess. What time and where?"
Marie was a little late when she showed up at the cafe. It was a lovely little spot situated right beside the park she and Jamie had been to, so their terrace overlooked the fall foliage and the small lake there. It was a cold day, but the colorful leaves dotting the canopies in the park was too beautiful not to gaze at for a while, so she waited outside, ignoring the chill numbing the tip of her nose and chin. She couldn't help but feel Britney would not show again, though it had only happened once. Things ingrained themselves quite quickly with her. At least, gossip and past embarrassments never seemed to leave her very swiftly, if ever at all. Marie took a deep breath and exhaled, watching as her breath turned smokey in the cold air. She walked up the sidewalk to the front of the short white building and took a seat on the decorative bench there, situated between two tall rosebushes. She grinned at a few people that walked by, catching eyes with several as they entered the cafe. It was quite busy, though this was probably due in part to the lack of restaurants and things in the neighborhood. She sat back on the bench, shivering slightly at the chill that seeped through her jacket from the wood. How long should she wait this time? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? Stealing a glance at her cell phone, she sighed. It was already twenty minutes past their meeting time. With a slow gaze around, she decided she may as well wait a while and enjoy the scenery.
"Marie?"
She jumped slightly at the mention of her name and snapped her gaze in the direction from which it came.
"Teddy..."
He hurried over to her, grinning face almost half covered by a cushy brown scarf, parting with an older squat dark haired man and an even squatter dark haired woman, whom she assumed were his parents, as he resembled both of them quite a bit.
"How are you?" he began, shoving gloved hands into his pockets, "I haven't heard from you in a couple days..."
"I know-I'm sorry...would you like to sit down?" she said hesitantly, wondering if it would even matter for Britney to see them together anymore.
Teddy glanced back at his parents, who nodded with small smiles, his father's grin disappearing beneath a bushy mustache, and headed for the entrance. He turned back to her with a shrug and took a seat, sitting so close she could feel the heat passing between them in the chilly air. She smiled slightly at the redness of his nose and cheeks, a pang of guilt ringing through her. She had been ignoring him slightly, not returning some of his calls, and generally acting the complete opposite of what she should, and would have.
"How was your thanksgiving?" she asked, stealing herself to scoot a little closer to him.
He took notice of this and smiled slightly, "It was very good of course, I'm pretty convinced my dad could win a national best stuffing competition. What about you?"
She giggled, "I actually went to Josh's house for thanksgiving this year."
Teddy raised his eyebrows, "Really? I didn't know you two were good friends."
"We're not really, I don't know him all that well. It was more because Jamie is his best friend, the guy who's been helping me with drawing after school. He goes every year. It was really good, and lots of fun."
Teddy nodded, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, "So....have you been really busy lately? Or..."
"Oh er..." she winced slightly, "I've been...preparing my portfolio...the teacher approached me about scholarships."
The lie almost seemed to burn as it crossed her lips, what was she doing? Stealing a page from Jamie's book, making excuses...Teddy nodded understandingly at this however, seeming to brighten a bit at hearing a valid reasoning.
"So have you finished? When will you know?"
"About the scholarships you mean? Well....I'm not sure exactly, but portfolios are due december 15th."
"Oh wow....not a whole lot of time left is there?"
She shook her head with a slightly bitter smile. Portfolio reviews were beginning to worry her. Not because she feared not being finished, but moreso what would happen should she be accepted. If she got into the program then what? She would have worse worries than who she was speaking to during the day. It would be easier to hide the fact that she was sneaking to the art room for certain periods, than to keep quiet her fellow classmates, and hide the scent of oil paint on her clothes when she left. What would she do should they find a bit of paint on her? Or spotted a portfolio in her locker? It would be horribly incriminating evidence, especially with Jen more aware of her strange after school art ventures. What had she even been thinking attempting this?
"You okay?" Teddy asked quickly, noting the pensive look crossing her face.
"Yea..." she exhaled, watching her breath as it dissipated in the air, "I just-I don't know what I'm going to do if I do get in."
"Celebrate of course!" Teddy said with a chuckle, obviously misreading her statement entirely.
All too suddenly, she felt far too exhausted to even attempt to correct his assumption, just thinking about next year was tiring. At least she would have Jamie there with her. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"Of course." she giggled back.
"So, I was thinking we could do something this friday?" Teddy said happily, snaking an arm behind her.
She smiled coyly, "I think that could be arranged."
"Sorry to interrupt..."
It took every spec of Marie's resolve not to jump back from him at the sound of her voice. The look on her face made it twice as hard. She stared down at them with her cool icy eyes, arms crossed, as if she had just caught someone in the act. After a few seconds however, Britney slowly dropped her defensive stance, redirecting her gaze almost sheepishly. It was such a switch Marie was almost convinced she had just witness two entirely different people.
"So you finally show." Marie bit back, not discouraged by this apparent change.
She was thoroughly surprised by her own fortitude however, and from the look on Britney's face, the other girl was as well.
"I'll call you about friday Teddy." Marie said with a grin.
Teddy looked back to her and nodded, moving away so she could stand. Marie did so, brushing off her skirt and straightening her shirt. She leaned in hesitating at first, heart pounding against her ribcage, and planted a quick kiss on Teddy's lips, right in front of Britney. It was more to make up for Marie's lack of affection over the past week, but it seemed almost like a challenge to the other girl. She had no clue where this bravery was coming from, though likely from Britney's recently fallen status.
"Shall we go in then?" Britney said stiffly.
And they left Teddy on the bench with a goofy smile on his face, waving to Marie as they entered. The second she stepped through the threshold was the second she felt the fake smile plaster across her face. She was suddenly very aware of how covering her makeup was, she felt she could peel a layer away and reveal herself again. While Britney was standing beside her however, it was locked in place, like a layer of stone spread heavily across her features. They took a seat in a booth in the far corner, a small window beside giving them a glimpse on the park. Britney was constantly looking around the small crowded cafe for familiar faces, ignoring the girl across from her. Marie blinked a few times, struggling against herself. She'd never felt more uncomfortable in her life. Even with Jen and company she often felt at home through familiarity. But here, Britney was acting strangely, claiming to have things she wanted to say, away from the scrutinizing eyes of her 'friends'. It was more than enough to send a block of ice into Marie's stomach every time the girl opened her mouth to speak. The waitress came by, taking their orders, and leaving nonchalantly, as if the horrible tension in the air around them was nonexistent.
"Okay." Britney said, watching the woman waddle away with their requests, "I know this is weird...I mean, me coming to you..."
"Just a little." Marie said, putting a measured amount of impatience in her voice, hoping to push the girl to go faster.
Get this over with, fast, like ripping off a band-aid.
"But you and I-I think we have...some things in common."
Marie raised her eyebrows. This sentence seemed to settle her nerves slightly, but for what reason she couldn't say.
"You're probably not going to believe anything I say about this. But...well...I guess I'll just spit it out. I've never felt right about teasing people. I've never wanted it...I just...I felt forced. I...didn't want to be them. I hate this stupid circle we've made for ourselves, but I'm so used to it I don't want to get out of it..."
Marie's jaw was hanging slack, her words hit home like nothing she'd ever heard. It took her a few moments to compose herself and revive her skepticism after hearing such words from the likes of Britney, but she couldn't help remembering that brief fleeting wonder she had, if the other girls had been wearing masks as disguising as her own.
"Why should I believe that?" she asked in spite of herself.
Britney sat back, obviously prepared for this, "I used to have an older brother you know."
Marie raised her brows, clearly not expecting such a deviation from the topic. It was known school wide that Britney was an only child, spoiled as only an only child could be.
"Used to?" she inquired quietly, curious all the same.
"He's dead."
Britney said this so matter of factly it took Marie several moments before she comprehended those words with a blink. She opened her mouth a few times to say something, but couldn't seem to muster a response.
"He was...different, my brother." Britney continued in light of her shock, "He liked all the things I liked I remember. He was a few years older than me, but we would play dress up with my mom's clothes, and put on little shows for eachother, he'd always play dolls with me. Instead of legos or race cars he'd ask for doll houses and things for christmas...my parents didn't really seem to think much of it. Then again I was little, what did I know? Of course when he got older he stopped playing with me, like all siblings do I guess. My mom told me he was just growing out of a phase."
She paused, stirring her icy water with a straw noisily. Marie immediately began to wonder what this had to do with anything, when she continued, again scanning the cafe with her pale eyes once more, voice hushed slightly.
"He was fourteen when that happened, I was nine. We weren't close anymore, I didn't see him much around then. But I remember that's when it started. He came home one day with a black eye and bruises all over. He just went to his room, and didn't even come out for dinner. It happened a lot after that. I used to hear him complaining about the kids at school to my parents, he didn't have friends, they all made fun of him, they all teased and bullied him. My dad just told him to stand up for himself, stop taking it, they tried to get him to take karate classes and stuff, but it didn't help. It just kept happening. My brother was too nice to hurt anyone." she had a sad smile on her face, seemingly reminiscing for a moment before returning to her story, "Then I came home from school one day...and they were all fighting so loudly. I didn't know what was going on so I just ran to my room and listened. My brother came up after, coming into my room and sitting with me, crying for a while. He said he was gonna leave. I asked him why, and he said mom and dad wouldn't understand. He was sixteen then." she shifted in her seat, keeping her eyes forcibly averted from Marie's gaze, "I found out later what happened. My mom had come home to find him in his room with all of her makeup, putting it on, wearing one of her expensive gowns. That night he tried to run away, but my parents caught him before he could leave. They grounded him for a month, as if he would have had anywhere to go anyway."
Britney was leaning into the table, eyes averted as she began picking absently at her napkin, pieces of it scattered around the table.
"I went in to visit him one night. He was just laying in his bed, facing the wall. I tried to cheer him up but he told me nothing would help. Nobody understood. Nobody cared. I told him I did, but he said it was only because I was too young to understand what was happening. Maybe he was right, maybe I didn't fully understand. But I think I would have...I think I wouldn't have judged him...he didn't give me the chance though." She almost sounded bitter when she uttered those words, "my parents found him dead the next morning. He'd killed himself during the night."
Marie stared wide eyed at her, absorbing the wealth of information she had just received. She'd never expected such a story to come from Britney, she'd always had deep seated assumptions that the girl had the smoothest, most unblemished life imaginable. The way she carried herself lent to this, as did her spotless reputation. Marie couldn't formulate a reply to this, so Britney continued a little awkwardly.
"I got really scared after that, about being left out, being teased. I didn't want to end up like that. Maybe the opposite reaction of what I should've had. I should have defended every one of the kids I teased because of Daniel...but I thought if I could be on the other end, that it wouldn't happen to me..."
Marie scoffed at her. Maybe she hadn't had an experience like that, but she had no idea how a history like that could lead Britney down such an opposing path. For all the trouble Britney had caused her over this subject, she just couldn't stop the venomous words from spilling out of her mouth, "Yes, you should have defended them. The way you tease people I wouldn't be surprised if one of them ended up like your brother."
Instead of a scathing remark in comeback like Marie expected, Britney merely nodded, "I know."
Marie snapped her mouth shut, still eyeing the other girl suspiciously. Was she actually admitting her wrongdoing? Though, based on the sheepish way Britney seemed to be acting now, it wouldn't much surprise her.
"Now I have that opportunity. To fix things... The dance was some kind of weird revelation I guess. I mean...last week I chickened out. It's kind of scary giving up everything, but I don't really have much to give up now I guess, it was given up for me. So...I guess I'm...sort of- turning over a new leaf...and I wanted to say I'm sorry. You were right."
"Sorry it took so long ladies," the waitress interrupted as she scurried over with their plates, "there was an accident in the kitchen. If you need anything else let me know!"
Marie was ready to ask her for a pinch. Did Britney actually just utter the words "I'm sorry" and "you were right" to her? She'd been almost positive these words did not exist in Britney's vocabulary, and Marie had never had the guts to even attempt to squeeze them out of her. She was the head popular, the alpha female, she bowed down to no one. Yet here she was, serving herself to Marie on a silver platter, hoping for something in return. Friendship? Help? What was it?
"Why are you telling me all this?" Marie said, a little more coldly than intended in the wake of her shock.
"Because you're the one that would get it. You're the only girl in that group I thought I could really be friends with."
Marie sat back in her seat, staring with unfocused eyes at her plate of french toast. She had snapped at Britney for not knowing better, when she herself had even less of an excuse. What history did she have that held her in this place? With a heavy exhale, she picked up her fork and began swirling the syrup around her plate.
"Who am I acting this way to you?" she began quietly, unsure of the information she was about to release. But for some reason, telling Britney at least a small amount of what had been on her mind seemed like a good idea, "Maybe I didn't tease people or bully them, but...what I'm doing is just as bad...I'm enabling it."
Britney was watching her silently. Marie could tell by the way she was chewing her lip she was holding back inquiry. This new side of Britney was like nothing she had ever witnessed before. A complete one eighty. Perhaps that was the reason she felt comfortable divulging when she wouldn't have thought on it for a moment before. Maybe she could try being friends with Britney...real friends. They were after all coming from the same place, stuck in the same trap. Maybe now was the time for second chances.
"So...how is the omelette?" she asked conversationally, as she stabbed a piece of french toast with a grin.
Britney looked confused for a moment, then snickered upon realization, steering smoothly away from the topic in all politeness. Apparently she had forgotten her breakfast even existed.
"Well...I'll tell you in a second."

Marie sighed as she walked slowly into the art room that Monday. She felt oddly exhausted from the weekend, and all the things that had happened. It had been a rather interesting weekend, exhaustingly so. After her little meeting with Britney she had received another phone call from her. They chatted a little awkwardly at first, growing a little more comfortable as conversation ensued. Marie had found herself a little worried about whether or not she was supposed to be friendly with Britney at school as well, as seemed to be becoming a regular issue for her. When she showed up that morning she had expected a rather difficult inner and outer conflict. Luckily for her, or maybe not, Britney had been absent that day. It was several long moments of walking past paint splashed tables before she even remembered she had been waiting for Jamie to return. So, when she finally recalled halfway to their table, she snapped her gaze up to find him seated, head resting heavily on his hand. He looked like he was ready to doze off, one hand twirling his pencil as he stared down at his sketchbook with a very serious expression on his face. It was becoming a common occurrence now, that every time she saw him a million questions would run through her head. Things she had been wanting to ask him seemed to build and build until she could hardly think for the few moments that they filled her mind to the bursting point. She quickly cleared her head of all but the one question she dared ask him today, though if it proved positive she would most likely venture further. He hardly seemed to notice her as she hurried over to him, and it didn't take her long to realize why he was not greeting her, and what sort of mood he was in. It practically radiated off of him.
"Hey." she said cautiously.
"Hey Marie." he said quietly, offering her a slightly weary smile before resettling his gaze on his sketchbook.
She put down her bag and peeked over his shoulder, slightly encouraged at his surprising warmth. It was a list of things, names she didn't quite recognize.
"What is that?" she asked slowly, surprised to see no doodles or sketches anywhere.
"Eh...heh," he hesitated, "I'm trying to figure out how many pieces I need for my portfolio. I have nicknames for them see?"
"Oh...wow..." she said with a frown, "that's quite a lot..."
He just nodded with a slightly bitter chuckle and continued to jot things down.
She waited for him to continue, but he didn't, resigning himself to scribble down things in a frustrated manner. With a slight frown, she slowly went to pull out her self portrait and put it on the easel. Hardly anything had gotten done on it since Jamie had been gone. She felt odd finishing things without having him over her shoulder helping her when she asked for him.
"So..." Marie began hesitantly as she pulled out her supplies, "you were gone a really long time...were you sick?"
Jamie took a few moments to reply, still scratching and scribbling, "Um...yea...nasty case of the flu..."
"Oh," she replied, "Josh said you were just busy or something."
He didn't even look up when he retorted, "Ah...well...sick of being busy, or busy being sick."
She shook her head with a short laugh, unwrapping her paints and putting the brush down on canvas hesitantly, "Always evasive."
"Of course." Jamie mumbled, leaning closer to his sketchpad.
After a short while of silent work, during which Marie was almost positive he could hear the thoughts buzzing through her mind, Jamie finally put his sketchbook down and dropped his pencil on top of it with a defeated sigh.
"What's wrong?" she asked, not putting the effort into expecting a real answer, as she tried to figure out how she would blend into dried oil paint.
He rubbed the back of his neck with furrowed brows, "I don't think I can do all of this..."
It took her a few moments to comprehend what he had just said, too shocked she had gotten a straight sentence out of him.
"What do you mean?" she finally replied, dipping her brush in turpentine absently.
"There's no way I have enough time from now till december when reviews happen. I need at the very least, four more paintings!"
She frowned and turned to him, ignoring the garish white streak she'd just caused with the turpentine laden brush. What did he mean not enough? There was no way he didn't have enough. Then she thought about it, realizing that only a portion of the time spent in the art room together had been time when he was working as well. Most of the time he spent helping her, teaching her certain techniques and critiquing her.
"It's all my fault!" she cried.
Jamie raised his eyebrows at her over-dramatic exclamation, offering a crooked smile and shaking his head.
"No, it's not your fault at all..."
"But you hardly ever actually work on your own stuff when we're here, you're always helping me-"
"It's really not your fault. I've been busy...and...I guess I just haven't been feeling much like painting lately."
She gasped, like this was the most horrible tragedy she had ever witnessed. Jamie chuckled a little at her, but she continued to be horrified.
"What do you mean 'haven't been feeling like painting'?! You're always doodling out ideas!"
She turned around with a huff and tore her painting off the easel, running to the storage closet and grabbing a brand new canvas, then placed it on the easel instead. Jamie's eyebrows were raised so high now they almost met his hairline.
"PAINT!" she instructed, jabbing a paintbrush at him.
He blinked a few times, then took the brush from her and stood slowly.
"What about your-"
"I have plenty of work for my portfolio now!" she said, pushing him over to the easel forcefully.
"Alright alright!" he laughed, taking a place in front of it, grabbing the palette as she shoved it under his nose.
"You know this isn't really going to help me get my work done on ti-"
She turned him back around forcefully, "Don't talk! Just paint!"
"Bu-"
"No buts!" she exclaimed, taking his seat and shoving her face in her own sketchbook to hide her amusement.
It took him a good few moments of glancing slightly dazed back at her before he shook his head and seemed to give in. She watched him closely, calculating how long he had been standing there merely staring at the blank canvas before he finally began to work into it. A warm toned wash went on it entirely first, dulling the brightness. Though she guessed this may have been a bit of a time consumer, for as soon as it was done he stood and stared at it for a good nother twenty minutes. She was readying to get up and physically force his paintbrush to canvas when he put his first stroke down. Then a second, third, after the fifth stroke she was convinced he was at a constant pace. With a triumphant grin, she stole herself to be wrapped up in her sketchbook, using Jamie to practice her gesture drawing as he painted on the canvas in increasing fervor. The longer the day went the faster her gestures had to be, before she gave up entirely ten minutes before it was time to leave. She sat back in her chair, shoving her sketchbook in her bookbag and smiling as she watched Jamie continue to paint. Giddyness bubbled up inside her suddenly, she was oddly excited to see him again, though it wasn't as if they had really spoken much. It was just a strange relief, as if she'd been holding her breath for an extended time, and had finally let it go. Jamie had stopped painting now, and was studying the canvas pensively, back to her, body blocking her view. She stood, curious to see what it was that had gotten him so inspired. He backed away when he spotted her walking up from behind, laughing a little nervously as she stepped up. She raised her eyebrows at him curiously before taking a look. It was a portrait, still slightly sketchy, but the subject looked familiar. Long wavy red hair, hazel eyes, small straight nose...a deep blush rose swiftly in her cheeks.
"Eh-I'm sorry...I uh..." Jamie fumbled, "It just kind of happened-"
"What are you apologizing for?!" she asked flustered, stepping up to examine it closer.
She just kept blinking at it, recognizing her softened features in mid realization on canvas, but a little overcome with disbelief. It seemed so soft and delicate compared to Jamie's usual work. This caused even more of a flush to rise in her already cherry red cheeks.
"It's just a color study really," he said bashfully, "I wanna finish it in watercolor I think..."
"Do-wha...I mean....do you want me to...model for you?" she stumbled over her words, cheeks so hot she couldn't bare to turn and look at him.
"Oh...well....that would be great! I just...I don't wanna take up your work time..."
"Why don't we do it after this? Are you too busy?" she replied, finally braving a turn around, facing him but still not quite meeting his gaze.
"Actually...no. I'm taking a break from work for a while. I mean...well-you mean stay here longer or..."
"Why don't you come over my place! You can bring Jenna too. You could eat dinner with us and work in my studio."
Jamie gaped at her, blinking several times, "You-have a studio?"
"Yes!" she said happily, finally raising her eyes, the prospect of this becoming more exciting with every sentence.
The giddiness that had welled up inside her previously had just increased tenfold. She waited impatiently for a few moments while Jamie seemed to think on it before he finally answered.
"Okay. Well actually, that sounds great!"
It was at that opportune moment that Josh walked in swiftly, looking horribly melancholy compared to his usual chipperness. Marie's smile faded slightly, Jamie's completely wiped off his face. Josh nodded with a grimace at Marie, which she guessed was intended to be a smile, and pulled Jamie aside. Marie began putting her things away, trying very hard not to eaves drop. She kept finding herself pausing when she picked up a snippet of words, and having to force herself to continue to distracting. It was a short conversation, and within a few minutes of chatting their voices were back at a more normal level.
"What are you even doing here then?" Jamie said quietly, "Don't worry about me I'll walk home, you go..."
"That's a long walk-"
"This is more important. I'll ask Marie for a ride or something okay? Just go."
Josh nodded solemnly, turning to leave but Jamie stopped him, "Let me know how he's doing okay?"
Josh nodded, averting his eyes, "Thank you."
Then he hurried back out of the room, picking up his pace to a jog as he left. Marie stood as Jamie came back over, brows furrowed deeply, revealing that small endearing wrinkle that formed between them.
"Is everything okay?" she asked slowly, mourning the excitement that had so quickly died.
He passed her and began packing up his own things, covering the paint palette with seran wrap for later use.
"I don't know yet." he said gravely.
She chewed her lip nervously, helping him with his brushes as he carried them over to the sink. It took a great deal of effort for her to halt the questions before they came pouring out of her mouth like a waterfall.
She chewed her lip, debating on further inquiry, but deciding against being nosey for once in her life, "Do you need a ride?"
"You don't mind?"
"Of course not." she replied casually, grin slowly returning to her face.
"That would be great, thanks." he said with a small smile, scrubbing the brushes with brush soap and tossing them in the large container.
"Do you want to start the painting tonight?" she asked, following him back over to the table, toweling off her hands.
"Yea, okay. I mean, if your family doesn't mind-"
"Of course not! My mom loves company."
"What about your dad?" Jamie asked as he packed up the easel and drug it back into the store closet.
"He does too, but he's working tonight anyway."
Jamie brushed his hands on his jeans as he closed the storage door with a nod and a smile, "Okay then!"
She beamed in return and walked out to the parking lot with him, chatting happily. For once her curiosity was held at bay, too oddly excited he was coming to her house to worry on what had just happened. What an interesting week this was going to be.