Temporary Insanity
Chapter Eleven: Delicate
"Dude, get your hands off of me…"
"North, this is for your own good. Sweetie, when Bitchface finds out she's pregnant you'll be thanking me for pulling you away," the sixteen-year-old girl keeps one stern hand on Dylan's shoulder as she pushes her way out of the crowded house party. She sighs with relief when the two finally make their way outside. "You wanna tell me what you're doing here?"
"I came to see Devin and hookup with Cecelia," Dylan honestly responds. His fingers are loosely looped through the key ring that holds the keys to William's SUV. An expression of amusement stretched across his face as he begins to jingle the linked metal objects.
"It's been forever since I've heard you say that," the girl frowns and looks at the boy with pity written across her face. "I thought that sister of yours snapped some sense into your thick skull and you were done with the partying scene?"
"She tried. She failed. I'm back," Dylan grins and stretches his hands up to the sky. His happy-go-lucky expression turns to one of curiosity as he looks her up and down. "What are you doing here? I thought you were too good to party with us normal kids?"
"Yeah, well, you know how I love it when Devin, that idiotic brother of mine, throws parties at our house and doesn't tell me beforehand," Brooke Ferris mutters sarcastically while racking her fingers through her chestnut locks of shoulder length hair. The shiny tresses are parted on the left side of her head which causes her bangs to fall diagonal across her forehead. "I tried to go in there and pretend I didn't change, but it's all bullshit."
"My name's Brooke Ferris," Dylan imitates in a high-pitch girly voice. "I use to be a major cheerleader party girl, getting wasted, famous for my table dancing routines. Then I went to counseling, learned to express my feelings through catchy little pop songs and got a record deal, happily ever after. The end…"
"My name's Dylan North," Brooke starts with an evil glint in her eyes. "I think I'm the shit with my pretty electric guitar, emo haircut and whoa, C+ in Algebra II! I just might not have to go to summer school next year. Oh yeah, damn, forgot about that F in English. I'm skinny as hell and wear tight clothes to show off all my skinniness and make all the girls drool…give me a break."
"It's nice to see you haven't lost your sparkling personality," Dylan says with a smirk, more entertained than offended. He lifts the rim of the bottle of beer to his mouth till the last drop of liquor taints his lips. His actions cause Brooke to raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
"You know that if you do win that Battle of the Bands we're going on tour together, right? If you're gonna get drunk and possibly high after every show…it's going to be a long summer," Brooke replies matter-of-factly as she pulls her cell phone from the pocket of her fitted black leather jacket.
"I had like…three beers and some weird fizzy thing Rodge made me drink," Dylan admits while pushing his brown bangs away from his eyes. "I'm hardly buzzed."
Dylan had a strange and bad reaction to the liquor he swiped from Mrs. Munion and it happened again with Rodge's offering. Dylan simply swallowed the liquor and ignored the nausea. Once he got into it, got lost in the music and grinned like an idiot, he was completely fine and spent a good half an hour making out with Cecelia on the couch. That was before the usually MIA Brooke Ferris walked in and forcefully dragged him away.
"I'm still calling William…"
"Calling your ex-boyfriend while wearing your current boyfriend's jacket?" Dylan asks with a raised eyebrow as he leaned heavily against William's SUV for support. "Not your smartest idea, Ferret…"
"FYI, this is my jacket and my name is Ferris. A ferret is a little mammal thing," Brooke replies with a shiver, not much of a fan of the rodent family. Dylan shuts his eyes and slowly slides down the grill of the SUV and into his sitting position on the gravel driveway. "Damn it, the one time I really need Will and he doesn't answer. Oh well, I guess I'll just call Phoebe to come get your ass."
"NO!" Dylan practically yells with eyes that snap open so suddenly. Brooke's startled for a moment before she presses her finger against the green button on her cell phone. Dylan struggles to his feet and grasps onto Brooke's shoulder to keep him from falling on his face. With his other hand he takes her phone and snaps it closed. "She's already…upset and probably doesn't want to come get my ass at the moment."
"Fighting, huh?" Brooke asks as she pried her phone from his sweaty hands and stuffs it into the back pocket of the dark jeans she's wearing. "Phoebe and you are practically conjoined at the hip. What would make her that upset?"
"Good question," Dylan mumbles under his breath as he racks his brain for a good lie to tell Brooke. "Creative differences…she's totally obsessed over this Battle of the Bands thing and I can't write with her. I said a few things, she got mad and I left."
"Ah, the drama that comes with being in a band," Brooke smiles fondly and stares up at the bright stars glistening in the dark night's sky. She smiles over at Dylan, mischief shinning in her hazel eyes. "So how are Hunt and Rodge?"
"Hunt's got football," Dylan says and takes a quick look around the dark driveway packed with cars and tipsy teenagers. "Everyone seems happy so I'm assuming they won the state championship. You saw Rodge inside, passed out on the living room table and, uh, Silver thinks he's cheating on her."
"Wow, only now she's catching on?" Brooke giggles. "Poor S."
"Same old, same old," Dylan shrugs though his face is anything but content. "We're falling apart, B."
"You wanna get out of here?" Brooke proposes so suddenly that Dylan has to pause and think about what she's just said. She's staring back at her house where dozens of strangers are drinking cheap booze and trashing the place.
"Where did you have in mind?" Dylan asks warily. Brooke throws her leather guitar case into the back of William's SUV and slams the door shut. She steals the keys from between Dylan's fingers and slides in behind the wheel. Dylan's rather annoyed that she left his question unanswered, but follows her, his arms falling at his sides, holding an unopened beer.
After twenty minutes of driving down dark, Connecticut coastline, Dylan's scared shitless.
"The person who taught you how to drive should go to jail for a long time…"
"Shut up, North," Brooke orders as she kept one hand rested on the steering wheel and the other draped halfway out the window. She pulls up in front of an old church with windows boarded up and graffiti covering the rotting wood. "We're here. Are you sober enough for a little walk?"
"Must I remind you that I only had a couple beers," Dylan asks and tugs the door handle, pushing it open and escaping into the night. He drags his feet towards the little chapel with Brooke at his side. She pulls open the squeaky door and Dylan walks right in, a bit reluctant yet intrigued. "What is this place?"
"This is where I come when creative differences get a little too much for me," Brooke answers, leaving her guitar case across a pew. The only light filtering in through the crumbling roof of the abandoned church is supplied by the moon. "Silver and I used to play in here all the time when we were little. It's also where I wrote my first single."
"While your producer and backup musicians fed goddess Brooke grapes straight from the vine," Dylan teases with a chuckle and sits down on a pew, hoping his weight won't break it. Ignoring his comment, Brooke pulls a silver lighter from her back pocket and lights the few candles that surround what was once an alter.
"My producer has a name, you know. It's Nate," Brooke informs Dylan who couldn't care less. "We look incredibly hot together and he gets me. I don't know what everyone's problem is."
"You two are really going out?" Dylan gasps, his eyes widening with disbelief. Brooke simply scoffs and unpacks her guitar; violently strum her hot pink pick against the strings of the acoustic beauty. "I mean…I was just teasing."
"It's supposed to be a secret," Brooke shushes him, rolling her eyes. "I mean, he's twenty-three and I'm sixteen. We've been to dinner once or twice. The tabloids caught on pretty quick, but no one believes them anyways. I'm just a local teenage artist. No one's taking me seriously yet. I don't know why he's so shaken up about it."
"Why are you telling me all of this?"
Her shoulders go up in a shrug and the corners of her lips pull back in one of the sweetest smile he's ever seen. Brooke sighs, "I've been so busy working on the album and promoting the album and fighting with my family that I don't really have any friends."
"You've got me," he reassures her with a grin. "You've got me and the twins and Silver."
"We haven't talked since…last summer," Brooke sighs, nervously picking at her candy apple red fingernails. "Listen, I'm sorry for dumping all of that on you, Dylan. It's just…I've been keeping it all in for so long the second I saw a familiar face, I just…well, told you."
"Brooke, it's cool," Dylan nods as he undoes the top of his beer bottle and takes a long sip. "I kinda get what you're saying…I think. It's like, if you love each other then that's all that should matter. There shouldn't be stupid rules and stupid laws to keep you apart. Why can't they just let us be?"
"Whoa, North, you got all deep on me there for a second," Brooke says teasingly as she glances up at him before refocusing back on her guitar. "You got some secret undiscovered lover I don't know about?"
"Believe me, if I did, you'd be the first…or second to know," Dylan says with a little laugh. He considers telling Brooke about Phoebe and him, but shakes the thought from his head. "So is Nate worth leaving William?"
Brooke wears a pensive expression while Dylan thinks back to a time when William Beardsley and Brooke Ferris were voted Campus Cutest Couple. He's the tall, dark and handsome school president and she's the hot, coveted captain of the cheerleading squad. She's known the Norths since they moved to New London and started dating William a couple months after Frank and Helen's wedding.
Brooke jokingly entered a singing contest once and a producer heard her sing, instantly offering the teenage girl a record deal. From then she left New London High, dedicating most of her time to working on her album, though she does have a private tutor helping her work towards her GED. Now it seems she's apparently too busy to have friends, canceling every time they call to try and hang out. Dylan's actually surprised he ran into her tonight.
"Is Silver cheating on Rodge with you?"
"So out of left field, Ferret," Dylan laughs, amused by such a ridiculous idea. "And you couldn't be more wrong. Now answer the question."
"God, stop calling me that," Brooke pouts, though secretly likes stupid nicknames. "Well, Nate wasn't even in the picture when William and I were together. With Will, he just…we weren't right for each other. He was just so…clingy, you know? He was so afraid to lose me that he held on so tight and I guess it ended up pushing me away in the end."
Dylan nods, again not understanding how one can fall out of love so easily. "Tell me about this Nate…"
"I can't stand him." Brooke says this and Dylan can see that sparkle in her eye. He knows he's never seen that with Silver and Rodge and wonders if he looks that way when he talks about Phoebe. "He's a jackass, but once you get past his defenses he's as harmless as a puppy. God, he's a genius with music. He can take lyrics I just scribble onto a cigarette box and make it something beautiful. Nate gets me like no one else and when he holds me I feel…alive."
"That's great for you, Ferris," Dylan says with a faint smile, slightly envious. "Wow, you certainly stepped up from Miss Head Cheerleader to Pop Princess with a record deal and finding love…or something close to it."
"Forbidden love," Brooke corrects, her voice containing a sad undertone. "It's the hardest kind, you know, being forever frowned down upon by society and all. If anyone found out, he could be accused of pedophilia and go to jail. I mean, we never did anything besides make out, but still−"
"I think I'm in love with Phoebe…"
Silence…
Silence…
Silence…
Mid-rant, Brooke forgets every word, her face instantly going blank before twisting into a quizzical expression, her head tilted slightly to the side. Dylan stares down at his sneakers, his knee bouncing up and down in a violent fidget. He looks so nervous. Dylan has no idea why he chose that moment to share his true dirty little secret. Hearing her tell him about her situation with Nate must have triggered something within him, probing him to share a little in return. The truth is, they could probably relate, being in similar situations and all.
"Wow, we have more in common than I thought. We're both screwed over by love," Brooke says with a small smile as she leans her guitar against a pew and snakes the beer bottle from Dylan's hand. She takes a gulp of the warm liquor and sighs loudly. "Wow…"
"You said that already," Dylan reminds her.
"Well, it's not everyday you find out Dylan North wants to nail his sister," Brooke smirks wickedly and Dylan to glares, standing as if he's going to storm out. Broke chuckles and grabs onto his sleeve, forcing him sit back down. "Oh, so you can tease me about the leather jacket and the grapes, but one little comment from me and you go all emo?"
"You have not seen me emo, Ferris," Dylan warns as he reaches over to reclaim his beer bottle. Brooke sends him a devilish grin and pulls the bottle just out of his grasp. "I need it more…"
"Actually, you know, it's kinda hot," Brooke praises with her famous smile, adorable dimples going into full effect. Dylan simply shakes his head and downs the rest of the beer. "What? Phoebe and you together doesn't seem so farfetched to me. You two always seemed closer than most siblings. I mean, you're adopted so I say go get her, Tiger."
"Too bad she already made it clear that she doesn't want a relationship," Dylan frowns, the empty bottle falling from his grasp and hitting the concrete floor. He gingerly takes Brooke's guitar into his hands and strums his bare fingers against the strings. "It's incestuous apparently…"
"Well, it's gonna take some time, Dyl, take things slow. I mean, it isn't going to be like your string of groupies or even that god-awful three months you spent kissing Cecelia's ass. It's delicate," Brooke tells him, probably the most honest advice he has ever gotten. "Am I really the first to know?"
"Sorry, Ferris, that cherry has been popped by the one and only Cheerleader Christina Beardsley," Dylan replies, Brooke's facial features twisting into a pout. "She kinda walked in while Phoebe and I were…um…having a moment."
"Poor Tina," Brooke mutters, amusement written across her pretty face. "Like a half-clothed moment or a fully naked one?"
"Dude!" Dylan shouts, the music abruptly stopping, leaving the two teenagers in complete silence. "Not that it's any of your business, but we were just kissing-borderline making out and Christina walked in and God, why do I tell you anything?"
"You're a victim of my irresistible charm," Brooke replied before she yanked her guitar away from the scruffy boy. "The whole forbidden love thing, I seem to associate it with this song…"
It starts out soft and slow, much different from the pop hits Brooke usually spews.
We might kiss when we are alone
When nobody's watching
We might take it home
We might make out when nobody's there
It's not that we're scared
It's just that it's delicate
As Brooke sings and delicately stroked the strings of her acoustic guitar, Dylan sits back and listens to the lyrics. Brooke seems so focused with eyes closed, listening to the sound of her own angelic voice.
So why do you fill my sorrow
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known
And why do you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you
Why do you sing with me at all?
Dylan understands. In a way the song slightly defines his relationship (if you could call it that) with Phoebe. The expression on Brooke's face as she sings is so tragic and damn heartbreaking. He knew how she feels. They're two musical souls who were screwed over by love.
"Nate reminds me all the time that despite him having to remain professional in public, he does care and we aren't just doing all of this for nothing," she smiles gently to herself.
"Lucky you," Dylan chokes out and looks away. It seems that Brooke and Nate have their whole relationship worked out. The only thing standing in the way of them being together is the age difference and the conflict of interest, seeing as they're working together.
"It's time to get home, North," Brooke mumbles, giving him a pat on the back before she goes to pack up her guitar. Dylan walks out towards the SUV while Brooke lingers for a moment in the chapel. She's chattering on her cell phone and Dylan lies out across the hood of William's SUV, staring at the sky and the pale moon that seems brighter than most nights.
Does he really have the courage to fight for them? More importantly, what about Phoebe, does she? Are they really willing to fight for this? That's the only way things are going to work out.
The ride to the lighthouse is a silent and rather bumpy one. Dylan pretends to sleep, his head leaning back against the headrest. It's past his curfew, two o'clock in the morning to be exact. Brooke carefully drives up the hill with her headlights off, something they've done tons of times in the past.
"Northy, wakey wakey, sleepyhead," Brooke sings as if she's talking to a little child. He doesn't react to her sweet voice so instead, she sticking out her index finger and roughly poking Dylan in the belly. He groans and shifts, eyes fluttering open. "We're here."
"How are you getting home?" Dylan asks groggily. Brooke sits, contemplating his question. She hasn't thought out that far in advance. "Come inside. You can crash on the couch."
"Yeah, that'll be fun," Brooke says sarcastically though Brooke's sarcastic sounds like enthusiasm. "Then I can wake up, smelling like smoke and alcohol and sit at the breakfast table with the General and your other seventeen siblings. Oh yeah, don't forget that one of those siblings is my ex-boyfriend and the other is your secret undercover lover!"
"He's actually an Admiral," Dylan corrects with a smartass smile and Brooke presses her lips into a pout. "Brooke, I don't have time for this. Just stay in the basement. No one goes down there besides Phoebe and me. Then tomorrow morning I can bring you home because I'm sure as hell not going to school."
"Yeah, I heard about the fight," Brooke nods. "It's all everyone talks about on Facebook."
"Thanks B," Dylan sneers, grumpily jumping out of the car.
"If we get into trouble your head's so on the chopping block," Brooke warns him, already pointing an accusing finger. The two abandon William's SUV and walk around the house, the moon shedding light on the dirt path. Dylan easily twists the doorknob of the back door to the basement and pushes it open.
"You seem to know the path pretty well. What, are you used to bringing home young and impressionable girls through the backdoor, Dyl?" Brooke asks teasingly causing Dylan to laugh aloud.
"Only ones named Brooke Ferris," Dylan replies with a chuckle. Brooke glares and shoves him playfully from behind causing the two to stumble in through the door. There they're greeted by a distraught Phoebe and a shocked Christina.
"Hi guys," Brooke greets cheerfully, awkwardly waving at her two friends sitting there with confused expressions. "Wow, you sure do stay up late at the North-Beardsley's…"
"Yeah, because I was worried and waiting for Dylan to come home," Phoebe admits which caused Brooke to smile. She's about to comment how Phoebe's concern for Dylan is cute, but is cutoff. "But it looks like I was just wasting my time."
"What, are you jealous, Pheebs?" Dylan jumps in, his hand slithering across Brooke's hips.
"Whoa, Romeo," Brooke says quickly in her trademark husky voice. She quickly pulls away from Dylan and notices he isn't even looking at her. His full attention is on Phoebe. "Don't bring me into this already tangled web."
"I can't believe you told her!"
"According to you, there was nothing to tell her about anyways!" Dylan shouts back with utter frustration, throwing his hands up in the air. "I don't get you, Phoebe. You don't want me, but you freak out when you see me hanging out with Brooke? I don't have time to do this dance with you. I'm getting tired of it."
"I'm confused, Dylan!" Phoebe defenses herself. "I can't live in impulse like you do. I can't just do things without thinking about the consequences first. I need to think before I act."
"What are you trying to say?" Dylan asks, offended. He's walking closer towards Phoebe who stands her ground. He never expects anything less.
"You're drunk," Phoebe observes, close enough to smell the putrid stench on him. "I can't deal with you when you're like this. We'll talk later."
"Whatever," Dylan mutters carelessly. Phoebe shakes her head and runs up the basement stairs, probably to her room. Christina looks helplessly between Brooke and Dylan before chasing after Phoebe. Dylan collapses on the couch with his head in his hands and Brooke frowns beside him, squeezing his shoulder in a comforting manner.
They say nothing. There's nothing left to say.
Delicate © Damien Rice
