"Did you get a good look at the picture?" Claire wanted to know, leaning over closer to me and her hair brushing over both mine and her knees. Distracted for a moment I forcibly shook my head and tapped my fingers along the flowers stitched on her quilt.
"Nah, just a group of people I didn't recognize," I shrugged like it didn't bug me but deep down it really did. Who were they? Why didn't I know about them? Why did seeing it make mom cry? And why did she hide it when I tried to take a look? And why did Claire have flowers on her quilt when I had never once in my life heard her mention a specific fondness for them? But that's me always one to stay on point.
"So you didn't recognized anyone?" She continued, obviously not hearing my thoughts and / or answering them for me. I shook my head and sighed, falling back dramatically onto her pillows and sinking about a foot into them. She giggled and I grinned at the sound of it and stared at her ceiling, remembering when it used to have glow in the dark stars on it until one night they decided to lose suction all at once and making Claire and me wake up screaming that the sky was falling. The sound of a doorbell rang from downstairs and I turned my head to look through the doorway and was blocked by the edge of the pillow puffed out around my head. Unhand me ye beast!
"Probably Zach," Claire guessed and holding out my arms so I could take them and she could lift me back into sitting position – not without a few cracks in my spine and an attempt to pull her down with me first. I climbed off the bed to follow her and holding her hand as she jogged down the stairs, bouncing slightly on the last step and springing forward to the mat before pulling open the door and leaning on it.
"You know, I get that you're sort of socially slow, but you know you're supposed to call someone before you come over," she teased and holding an arm back to welcome him as he did and taking a brief but uninterested glance at the stairs to note that I stood there.
"What and Jess doesn't count?" He asked, nodding over to me and half an acknowledgment and half so that we all knew it was me that he was referring too. And not of course ... the many other Jess's we knew in the world who fit better to the comment. I had a factory of them stashed away just in case this very moment arose and I wasn't around to occupy it.
"Of course not, I'm Jess," I answered for him and walking around the banister so I could stand on equal footing beside them. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, amused and starting digging through his backpack pulled over his front.
"I found the tape," he said, remembering his original purpose and searching through the multiple pockets and zippers that didn't seem to have a place to go to but were there just for the fun of it.
"What tape?" Claire asked sounding uninterested and taking my hand to lead me into the kitchen with our hands between us swinging.
"The tape of you trying to kill yourself twenty times," Zach hissed after us and leaning urgently over Claire's shoulder to say it. "I found it! Look, I was looking for my PSP under my bed, right?" I nodded, no matter how sarcastically. "And there it was." He completed his search through his bag and pulled out a small tape in a homemade case that she quickly took from him and turned between her hands. "You're safe." Breathing a sigh of relief she leaned over and hit him hard in the arm.
"I thought this was supposed to be good news," he protested, clutching his arm and pulling back in case I wanted to do the same.
"Well, I can't believe you had it this entire time!" she declared and dramatically holding it up to the light so that it almost looked angelic. "Why didn't you look there before?"
"I did," he insisted, still clutching his arm and on the cautious lookout for another hit. "I tore my room apart. I must have checked the bed, like, fifty times." Footsteps creased on the footsteps and we innocently backed up and separated as Sandra came to the bottom of the stairs and set Mr. Muggles delicately on the rug. Please, thing that fluffy you could drop it from a fifty foot building and it would still bounce. I grinned at the image and Sandra looking up as if hearing the thought and disapproving.
"Good morning Mrs. Bennet," Zach greeted politely as she started to lead Mr. Muggles into the kitchen, already wearing a leash and a fashionable little sweater. Little bugger was more fashionable then I was. Though I probably would have forgone the leash. Standards and all. "Good morning, dog." Zach raised his eyebrows down at him and I felt my liking of him spike.
"Morning, sweetheart," Sandra leaned in to peck me on the cheek and out of habit I met her halfway before she continued through into the kitchen with Mr. Muggles's leash wrapped around her fingers and something confused and sick in the pit of my stomach. "How are you, Zach?"
"I'm all right. Claire keeps punching me though," Zach shrugged and so I hit him in the other arm so we'd be even and I'd take half the blame. "Jessica too." Sandra sent an obligatory look of disapproval over her shoulder at us and I held up my hands so she could see they were punching free and Claire stuffed the tape into her bag and pull the flap closed over top.
"Your dad's plane is going to be late," she continued and Mr. Muggles back in her arms and nodding along as she spoke. "I won't be home until eight or so. I'm trusting you to hold down the fort." She looked at Claire as she said it and as affectionately as it was knowing – as well as I did though less affectionately – that I couldn't be trusted with the responsibility.
"Because Lyle never listens to me," Claire answered dryly and raising her voice as Lyle walked in behind her and rolled his eyes over his Game boy.
"Well, he will listen to you today because he knows what a big day it is for Mr. Muggles," Sandra explained as a way of an answer and Mr. Muggles licking her chin recognition. Claire looked over to me with her eyebrows raised and I "pretended" to gag as Sandra looked back and I turned it into a timely cough. "And he doesn't want to stress us out. Whew, does he?"
"Sure," Lyle answered slowly and just as disturbed as the rest of us.
"Will you three help me out to the car?" She lifted Mr. Muggles over the counter and to Claire who took him paws, fur, leash and all with neither of them looking too pleased about it. "Your dad left on the sprinkles last night. And I don't want him to get his paws soggy." Yes, God forbid. She handed the doggy designer bag to me and I quickly handed it over to Zach before the weight could fully settle and making him painfully exhale as it hit him in the chest.
"Here we go," Sandra excitedly jogged for the door and we obediently followed her single file as she did.

I kicked my shoes off at the door as I simultaneously dropped off my jacket and became entangled in them both so I was glad there was no one around when I finally pulled myself free and stepped away least I get dragged back in.
"Mom!" I called but stopped myself on the end of it before I could remind myself out of the stupid habit. I waited anyway and felt disappointed when I didn't hear a reply but even angrier with myself that I had expected one. The floorboards creaked under my feet as I went over to the staircase and peered into the office on the other side where she sometimes worked and where I once looked up unsavory porn. It used to be dads and since ... then we had made a habit not to go in there unless out of extreme necessity. I pressed my fingers to the handle and peered through the blinds covering the inside to see if I could see anything and an ache in my stomach that pulled me inwards to see something – anything – that might make it go away. I cautiously opened it and was rewarded with a low sharp whine as I stepped inside and could smell the dust that layered everything and made everything look one hundred years older than it actually was. Desk, chair, book shelf, books ... pretty standard of any office but I wasn't and it sobered me knowing that. I ran my fingers over a line of books on the shelf and briefly looking at the titles before sitting in the chair and rapidly spinning myself so the world felt hazy and for a moment I felt like myself and like my misery was hidden under sarcasm and defence mechanisms and instead of on the surface where anyone could see. I gripped the desk to stop myself and as I felt the world return to normal remembered how when I was little I used to try and spin him in it and make him dizzy but because he was big and I was small he'd only laugh and have to do it himself. He used to laugh a lot. Near the end he stopped but my earliest memories were of him laughing. About something. Anything. Angry with myself I wiped at my cheeks and riffled through the papers without being entirely sure what I was looking for but looking anyway. I opened a drawer and saw that it was filled of old pens, paper clips and other boring office supplies and contemplated making a necklace out of the clips just to wear it to practice and see what Jackie would say. I swept them together from the back and pulled out the drawer farther to see it there were more when it came off its tracks and fell with a loud bang onto a stack of papers stacked underneath it. Papers went flying and I cringed and waited to see if anyone would hear and come yell at me before remembering that there wasn't and that I could be as much a delinquent as I wanted and no one would notice. I knelt anyway and shoved the drawer aside and started to pick up the paper clips and pens before one of the spilt papers caught my eye and I paused to look at it. It was a photograph sticking out of a folder and I pulled it carefully into my lap so none others would fall out and opened it so it spread across my knees. It was a picture of me when I must have been eight or so – hair in pig tails, couple teeth missing and a grin that was too big for my face. My eyes were smiling too. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. It was stapled onto a file and I lifted it so I could read what it said but only getting basic medical information about my age and any birth defects. Turns out I was relatively normal – besides the bitterness and perpetual sarcasm thing. But that came later. I gathered it to toss it back into the pile when I saw the second page and turned it so I could read the rest:
-Shows signs of genetic abnormalities
-Bring in for testing and DNA sample
-Possible hereditary for her father
-Invisibility / force field manipulation

I froze, scanning the words and not comprehending what I read before another photo fell out from the file and I barely lifted it up to see it but knowing who it was before I even needed the better look: It was Mr. Bennet.

The car honked angrily at me as I ran past and clutching my bag over my shoulder and to my side so I wouldn't accidentally drop it and tempted to give the drive the finger just to show him what I felt about almost being run over. He didn't seem to care either way and drove around me as I ducked into the trees lining the sidewalk and my heart pounding so fast in my chest I felt dizzy and sick. Genetic abnormalities? Hereditary from her father? Invisibility / force field manipulation. It didn't make sense. Or it probably did in some parallel universe but in this one I had drawn the line at invincibility and occasionally the ability to sneak into class unnoticed. But I didn't even know about that until six months ago so how did dad know about it before I did when he had been dead eight years. What did it mean testing? And what was Mr. Bennet's picture doing in the mix. I didn't even know who he – or Claire was – until I was almost nine and yet he knew my dad before? How? Why? And what the fuck was his picture doing with my file about apparent genetic abnormalities? And how did the quiet, bald man fit in to everything or was he just some random guy who had nothing to do with anything but just happened to show up at the worst times?
"Whoa!" I stumbled back as Zach suddenly braked in front of me and balancing his foot off the pavement to keep himself from falling over. I offered him a courteous smile before ducking to move around him but he caught my arm and stopped me.
"Whoa are you okay?" He asked, the biking nearly falling on him as he tried to keep it up and hold me at the same time and one having to give so he allowed himself to stumble as it hit the pavement but loosening his grip as he did.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I insisted and stepping over the twisted wheel and nearly cutting myself as it continued to spin. Damn excuses for transportation.
"Hey," He grabbed my arm again and remembering something I didn't want to I shoved him back hard so he fell back over the fallen bike and landing painfully on his back. It came at a price but it made me stop and I watched as he nervously lay there before looking up at me and looking more concerned than hurt that I had shoved him. It sank into my skin in pieces and the ground came up underneath me as my knees hit the grass and I was crying and with no idea why. It felt good though. Hurt but felt good and I clutched my bag to my chest and cried as I wanted to throw the papers out of it and rip them into tiny pieces and rewind the last six months – eight years – of my life so that I never knew I had a "gift" and never had any reason to cry myself to sleep with no one there to come in and tell me that it would be okay. I saw Zach move out of the corner of my vision and felt something lightly press to my shoulder that I presumed was a hand but wouldn't be surprised if he was secretly acrobatic and that it was actually his ankle.
"Jessie?" He asked it quietly as he knelt beside me and I turned to bury my face in his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in closer to him. He smelled like cologne and pencil shavings and about a dozen half hearted jokes came to mind in connection between the two but I pushed them aside as my fingers wrinkled in his shirt and distantly I could hear birds singing and how awkward it sounded when it should have been stormy and dark. If what I learned from English class was anything to go from ... which it usually wasn't.
"Hey, hey. You okay?" He pulled me away slightly and held me by my shoulders so he could look at me properly and I caught a glimpse of his eyes through his hair and was struck by how pretty they looked. That or I was clearly having a break down.
"I'm great," I shrugged off and wiping my eyes, thanking my aversion to make up and how it probably would have made me look like a dripping raccoon at this point. No more attractive then I usually was but hey you got to keep it where you get it. Or something.
"Are you sure?" He was squinting at me slightly as if trying to find the girl he –and everyone else – saw on a daily basis and finding no place for her under the tears and shaking. "Because ... you just kind of had a breakdown." He tried to smile to ease and I found I appreciated it no matter how poor the effort.
"I don't break down," I insisted but not moving from where I sat and my fingers still on his arm. "At least not in public anyway." I tried to smile to match his own but I heard what I had just said instead and saw his eyes grow sad at how depressingly honest it was and showing me exactly why I didn't break down in public. That and it just became a nuisance if it was a daily occurrence. "I'm fine." I brushed off my jeans and awkwardly stood up so he did as well and watching me as I prolonged my efforts just so I wouldn't have to meet his eye.
"Okay, if you say so," he shrugged it off and leaned over to grab the handlebars of his bike and straightening it so the wheels again stood and I felt bad for pushing him over it. "So, where you headed?" He looked up as he said it and the front of his shirt damp and twisted from where I had been holding it.
"Claire's," I gestured behind him to demonstrate and hoping he'd leave it at that and bid me farewell. He didn't though and if he had been anyone else – with maybe the exception of Claire who was always an exception – he might have already been running off to brag that he witnessed the great stoic Jessica Newport break down and that I wasn't as bitter as all that. Well I was but somewhere deep down there I was still human.
"I was heading that way myself do you want a ride?" He patted his handlebars as he said it and I could almost taste the lie in his voice that it wasn't where he was going at all but was offering me anyway.
"I'm good. Thanks," I started to walk away from him and waiting for the moment when he would stop watching me and thus the prickling in my neck would go away. It didn't and so I stopped, taking a deep breath before walking back to where he stood and keeping my head low as I did. I stepped up over the wheel and turned so I could sit on the handle bars so I could lean against his chest and the metal bar of it digging into my ass. He steadied me against him for a moment before pushing off and starting to ride down the street.

"So are we going to talk about it?" He asked, another car passing by us and someone from our school – who knows who they all look the same – whistling and cat calling as they went. Yes, riding a bicycle together how sordid.
"About what?" I asked, running my fingers over the rubber of the bar and bits of it coming off into my hand. Playing dumb. Most people assumed I was anyway so it was just easier to play off it sometimes then actually making the effort of a conversation. He laughed and I could feel the vibration through my back.
"What happened? Back there," I think he tried to gesture back because the wheel wobbled and he quickly steadied us least we fall onto oncoming traffic. As amusing as that would be.
"I pushed you and was so overcome with regret that it broke me," I answered dryly and I felt him laugh again as he turned down Claire's street and I could see her house at the end of it. Funny how it – and the people inside – were more like home then mine was. I felt a pang when I found that included Mr. Bennet and shoved it down to the bottom of my thoughts were they still focused on the file and that photograph.
"Is that the story you're going with?" He wondered and a rock bumping under the wheels so I bounced and felt the pressure of the bar even harder on my ass. There were jokes about that. Many jokes.
"I don't have to "go with" anything. I've made my peace with it," I tried to shrug but almost lost my grip and decided that the sarcasm in my tone was enough.
"You know ... you don't have to be like that all the time," he sighed and sounding exhausted from saying it. I tried to turn to face him but was once again faced with the dilemma of my position and having to look forward.
"Like what?" I wondered, more curious then wanting to fill the answer with something between the lines of "I'm perfect" and "I am what I am."
"Like ... a bitch," He stuttered over the word and I wasn't sure if he just didn't like saying it or that it was me he was saying it too. "I mean. You act all tough and mean all the time but you're actually a pretty awesome person and you should let people see that more. They might make fun of you less." He leaned his forward as he said it and his chin brushed my shoulder so I stiffened and unsure how to take the affectionate contact. Unless it was Claire or Sandra of course. But that was more out of habit then knowing what to do.
"Listen ...," I started, all ready with an impassioned speech about that it was who I am and that high school wasn't exactly the time or place to "be yourself" (whoever that might be) when I was interrupted mid thought by yelling up ahead and the sound of Claire's voice.
"Lyle!" I could just see over and up the lawn to their house Claire running after Lyle on the green and her arms out and gesturing at us as we approached. "Don't let him get away!" Zach came to a stop in front of Lyle, blocking his path and I threw myself off the front of it and after him but I only caught his ankles and dragged myself up the hill to where Claire had already fallen running after him.
"Lyle!" Now Zach had taken up the chase and after him and I skidded to a stop beside Claire to pull her up and back on her feet as Lyle bolted into the SUV parked in the driveway and closing and locking the door behind him. All three of us came to a stop on the driver side almost at the same time and people up and down the street now watching us and not sure how to handle the appearance of four teenagers playing "tag."
"Argh!" Claire pounded her fist against the window and Lyle shrank back and onto the passenger side.
"Why do you want us to kill him again?" Zach asked, just now thinking of asking. Why bother though? Just go with it.
"Because he found the tape and then he stapled me," she answered, breathing hard from anger and the run and holding her hand out to demonstrate. Even knowing that I wouldn't find anything I took her hand anyway and ran my thumb over the back.
"Help! Somebody help me! My sister's a freak!" Lyle yelled it over his shoulder and attracting the attention of a neighbour mowing his lawn before turning back to grimace at us and the look losing its effect from the fact that he made the same face when he didn't like dinner. Claire wasn't as optimistic of it though and continued hitting the window and grunting in frustration.

The back of the SUV awkwardly moved up and down and whined as Zach jumped on it and holding onto the bars of the top to keep himself from falling off.
"Come on, you can't stay in there forever!" He called before losing whatever leverage he had and bouncing off the back and to the other side. I watched as he went, arm resting against the window and something very subdued about waiting someone out and no pizza to fill that time. If it were me in the car that would get me out in a hurry. But then again I might just get bored. Or never take the tape in the first place. But the world was full of what ifs and I was biased when it came to Claire so there was that to contend with.
"Just give me the damn tape," she burst out and tears of frustration in her voice as Lyle ignored her and continued to watch it from inside his seat. He paused for a moment and stuck his tongue between his lips.
"I'm gonna put this thing on YouTube. Make like a million bucks," he threatened but the sound coming off hollow with how scared he really was and looking away before he could get a good look at either of us.
"YouTube's free idiot," Zach pointed out and leaning against the passenger side window.
"You're not helping," Claire said tiredly and rolling her eyes at him. She turned back to Lyle and growing serious as he cautiously looked to her. "Lyle, no one can see what's on that tape." I turned from her to look at and was struck by how light his air looked in the cloudy afternoon light.
"Is that your natural hair colour?" I wondered and the three of them turning to look at me with varying degrees of confusion and amusement.
"Are you high?" Claire asked, more curious then concerned and I gestured with my fingers to a small amount and she rolled her head back over her arm and trying to hide a smile.
"Are you an alien or something?" Lyle demanded, finally getting somewhere with his questions. "Are you guy's aliens too? I always knew there was something off about you." He pointed accusatory at me as he said it but I was too out of it to be offended.
"What? My personality?" I asked dryly and my elbow slipping on the window so I slid down it a bit but Claire righting me again.
"Yeah, yeah," said Zach, going with the idea as we turned to him. "We're gonna ..." His voice lowered and became raspy. "We're gonna anal probe you."
"Zach!" Claire chastised and I wiped my smirk off my face so she wouldn't think I found it funny. "Stop scaring him!"
"I'm not coming out until mom and dad get home," Lyle insisted and nervously licking his lips as he stared at the steering wheel and again avoiding our eyes.
"No, no, no. You cannot tell them," Claire pleaded and I straightened as her voice became shaky and my insides beginning to ache at the sound. "Lyle, please they cannot find out about this."
"Why not?" He asked but his voice quieter now and less scared then it was a moment ago.
"Don't you get it? If they found out, mom and dad would think it was a mistake to ever adopt me. We wouldn't be a family anymore. Please," her fingers tightened on the glass of the window as she begged and I watched her and the movements of her face and her fingers and her voice and everything and was reminded again just how deeply and hopelessly I loved her. There was a silence around the thought and I looked up, suddenly afraid that I had spoken aloud but then Lyle slowly unlocked and opened the door and I laid that brief panic to rest. He stepped out of the car and held out the tape to her which she took and slipped into her back pocket and holding there for a moment so she'd remember the feel and if that went away.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"Whatever," he shrugged off and she wrapped her arms around him with her head against his neck and he briefly obliged her by patting her back but the moment ruined by Zach jumping out at them and yelling which Claire retaliated with by hitting him in the arm but this time I didn't take half the blame of.

"And what did it say?" Claire asked, leaning forward so her hair brushed over mine and her knees but everything was settled so it didn't distract me this time and all I could see was the words on the file and the photo of Mr. Bennet and the fact that we'd had it for almost ten years and never once did I think to look and try to piece it together to make it make sense. Even now it didn't make sense. Was my mutation – mine and Claire's – just genetic shit that didn't belong? Was it a disease? Was it hereditary – from my dad? But then where did she get hers if not from her birth parents? Why were they who figured this out and how and why were they going to do the "testing?" And what did Mr. Bennet have to do with it if any of it? Or his friend – the quiet man I'd come to call him in my thoughts and wish I didn't every time I did. None of it made sense and I was the last person to be asked about something like that and yet here I was. Life was funny sometimes.
"That it was hereditary. That it was abnormal that they wanted to do tests," I rambled off the list and growing more agitated as I said it out loud with no cushioning of sarcasm around it to make it seem less realistic. Anything can look pathetic if you think it in a certain way with a comical detailing around the sides.
"Tests? Who wanted to do tests?" She was leaning forward more intently now and I could smell the scent of her perfume crisp and sweet and making me dizzy.
"I don't know, it said," I turned back to the foot of her bed to where I'd sworn I'd left my bag but finding the space empty but for where I dropped my jacket. I rapidly looked over the other side before climbing off the bed and looking under the quilts. Shit no ...
"What?" Claire asked and stepping off the bed to join me.
"I can't find my bag," I said and sprinting over to her dresser and looking under it but no logical hiding place for it and no logical reason why I would hide it in the first place. If it was me it was safe but it wasn't ... A door opened and closed downstairs and we both stiffened at the sound.
"Maybe dad can help us look," she offered and opened the door to jog down the stairs. Everything inside me went cold and I tore after her as I heard her and Mr. Bennet were talking in the kitchen and I stood on guard as she said something and he laughed and I ducked before he could look my way and into the den / office. It was dark inside but I could see from the kitchen lights and saw my bag draped over the desk with the flap of it closed. I sprinted over to it to hug it to my chest as the light switch turned on and I turned around to see Mr. Bennet behind me and Claire behind him.
"Oh good you found it," he smiled tiredly and the light reflected off the frame of his glasses to make him look warmer but for the first time since I had known him I didn't know any love or affection or even wariness or suspicion. I felt fear. I felt anger. And I felt hate. That he had pretended that nothing had happened when it did, that he was in "league" with the quiet man, that he was standing before me with a tired smile on his face and looking every inch a loving father and husband while mine was dead and rotting and my last remaining memories of him were tainted by a file and a photo of him that brought up questions I didn't want to ask with answers no one would ever be ready for. And least of all me.
"Yeah I did," I held it up so he could see and holding it into my stomach. He nodded, waiting for me to say something next and I couldn't think of anything when I could feel that force building in my stomach that when unleashed could crack walls and break windows and I had only felt the full force of once.
"Well ... we better get ready for bed," I gestured to Claire behind him as she raised her hand and waved so we'd recognize she was there. "Night." He barely finished out his own goodnight before I rushed by him and up the stairs to Claire's room with the sound of her footsteps loud behind me. I dumped my bag on my bed as she closed the door behind us and my hands stilled as I reached inside and came back empty.
"What is it?" Claire asked, at my side and lifting the flap as I tore through it again but only finding an old chap stick and some crumbled Kleenex.
"It's gone," I said quietly and with panic settling and smothering my chest. The bag was empty. The file – and papers and photo – were gone.