Cosmic Responses
"Whadda ya mean 'he won't notice'?" Chloe whispers.
Rachel rolls her eyes. "You don't have to whisper. He wouldn't leave his office if the house was on fire."
"It sort of is…" Chloe says. She can't see out the windows, but she knows what lurks on the other side of that stained glass: a fire big enough to consume all of Arcadia Bay in minutes if it was close enough.
Rachel is either deaf or pretending not to hear that last bit as she pads down the stairs in her bare feet and makes her way to the china cabinet in the dining room.
"Sherry anyone?" she asks, peeling open the door and reaching for the glass bottle of fino.
"I'm more into the harder stuff, myself…" Chloe says. "But I think I've given up the right to be picky."
"Sherry it is."
Rachel carefully closes the cabinet door and tucks the bottle under her arm. The two girls make their way back upstairs to Rachel's room and sit cross-legged on the bed.
"Are you sure he won't see it's missing later?" Chloe asks.
"Probably not," Rachel says, but she isn't sure if she's telling the truth or not. "I don't think he's been paying attention to much lately."
"Since your Mom…?"
"I say lately… I mean never," Rachel tells Chloe. "He's never paying attention."
"That's gotta be hard."
"It's like not having a D—"
Rachel stops herself. Of all the people she could've opened her big mouth and started to say that to, she just said it in front of Chloe Price. The only girl in all of Blackwell with a dead Dad.
"I think it might be worse than not having one," Chloe says. "You know what you're missing. He's right there, he's just choosing not to pay attention. My Dad didn't choose, he just died. It wasn't his fault."
"I… guess that's true… in a way," Rachel says.
She hands Chloe the bottle of sherry and watches her tip the bottle. She takes a wary swig and scrunches her nose.
"He likes this stuff?" she asks Rachel.
"I don't think anybody drinks because they like it. They drink to feel better."
"I thought that's just what we were doing," Chloe says.
"It's what everyone does," Rachel reassures her. "To feel better, or to loosen up so they can do things they know they shouldn't."
"I guess we're doing that too," Chloe chuckles as she passes the bottle to Rachel.
"No, we totally should be finding out who this 'Unknown' jackass is. It's hella creepy that they've been texting us cryptic shit and telling us what to do."
"They also sort of saved me one time…" Chloe says.
"When?"
"I was walking in the street and they warned me about a car."
"Would you have been walking in the street if you weren't distracted by the texts?" Rachel asks.
"I guess not."
"Then they didn't save you. They put you in danger."
"But they also told me about the spiked tea at the play," Chloe says. "They said not to let you drink it."
"Yeah, and it knocked Victoria Chase on her ass," Rachel laughs.
"But that tea was clearly meant for you, not Victoria."
"Listen, if they knew about the tea, they didn't do anything about it. And knowing about something like that makes them just as dangerous as the person who put it there. I don't care who it was for—you don't give knockout tea to someone you don't wanna knock out."
"You don't think they put it there to get Victoria out of the way so you could play Prospera?" Chloe asks.
"Fuck if I know," Rachel says. "But you don't poison somebody to get your dream cast—even crummy Victoria Chase."
"But what if something worse was going to happen if you weren't in the play?" Chloe asks. "What if being in the play saved you from something terrible?"
"Okay, like what?"
"I don't know… what if somebody had a hit out on you or something, and being on stage saved your ass?"
"What's with you and my ass?" Rachel asks.
"N-nothing! I meant it figuratively, not—"
"My figure or my ass, Chloe—which is it?"
"Jesus! You know what I meant!" Chloe says, snatching back the sherry and taking another swig.
Rachel laughs and reaches for the sherry.
"I wanna do something kinda weird," Rachel says, taking a gulp of sherry and then scooting it onto the dresser.
"Um…"
"It's fine, don't worry. I just wanna play another game," Rachel says.
"The last few times didn't go so well, princess," Chloe tells her.
"But this time is different."
"Different how?"
"I guess details about you based on your star sign, and you tell me if I'm right," Rachel says.
"What's the catch?"
"No catch," Rachel says. "Okay, maybe one catch. You have to hold my hands. It's how our energies will align."
"What the fuck?"
"Shut up and gimme your hands, Chloe," Rachel says, moving closer so the two are facing each other, legs crossed, knees touching.
Chloe eyes Rachel suspiciously but places her hands palm-up on her knees. Rachel places her own hands on Chloe's a takes a deep breath, closing her eyes meditatively.
"This is ridiculous," Chloe mumbles.
"And voluntary," Rachel reminds her. "Now close your eyes and transfer me your energy."
Chloe groans and does as she's told.
Sort of.
She thinks so anyway, it's hard to tell if you're transferring energy or just holding your breath.
"Now let's see…" Rachel says. "Chloe Price… you're a Pisces, aren't you?"
"I guess so…"
"This game doesn't work if you don't know yourself," Rachel says.
"Fine, yes. Pisces. Whatever," Chloe says.
"Good. Now… I'm sensing a lot of… residual teen angst here…"
"You don't need me to transfer my energy for that one," Chloe says under her breath.
"Okay, okay. But there's more. You've been worrying more than usual lately…"
"How do you know?" Chloe asks.
"A lady never reveals her tricks, or her age," Rachel says.
"Then you'll have no problem telling me."
"Are you suggesting I'm not a lady?" Rachel asks.
"I've seen no evidence," Chloe tells her.
"Maybe, if you're lucky, I'll prove it," Rachel replies, and Chloe can hear the smirk on her face just by the way she says, "if you're lucky".
"I'm not usually very lucky, if you haven't noticed," Chloe says.
"And not very good at hiding the fact that you've been biting your nails again."
"Again?"
"Just… I noticed a few days ago you had longer nails," Rachel says. "I assumed you've been biting them because you're worried about something."
"So you didn't get that from my energy?" Chloe asks, ignoring the fact that Rachel didn't really answer her question. Has she looked at Chloe's nails before?
"Okay, fine. Let me try again."
Chloe waits patiently for Rachel to spew some other bullshit about her Dad or her living situation or living in a trash pile.
"You're… stubborn," Rachel says. "But you're kind."
"Everyone's like that," Chloe says. "Try again."
"Okay… you're quick to fly off the handle about things that upset you—particularly injustice," Rachel says.
"Again, so is everyone."
"But you're also quick to forgive, especially after you've been slighted," Rachel says.
"Okay… maybe."
"And you're a cynic," Rachel says. "But I know you don't believe what you told Mr. K the other day."
"What, the whole 'twelve-year-olds can't fall in love' thing?" Chloe asks.
"Yeah. You don't think that's true."
"What makes you think that?" Chloe asks.
"Your energy, dingus," Rachel says. "And… the fact that you've been wanting to kiss me all afternoon."
"I'm sorry… what?"
"Or… maybe I'm losing my touch, I don't know."
Chloe lifts one eyelid just enough to see the princess' face. It's tangled up in a nervous sort of frown, almost like a person might look if they were embarrassed, but Chloe knows better than to assume Rachel Amber is even capable of an emotion like that.
"Maybe you are," Chloe says nonchalantly, watching Rachel's face morph into one of worry, biting her lip like she's thinking of something she can say to backtrack.
Then a smile starts to creep its way between her cheeks.
"And maybe you're really bad at cheating," Rachel says.
"Huh?"
"Eyes closed, Price."
"Hey, I wasn't—" Chloe starts.
"You were. Your energy gave it away."
"This game is stupid," Chloe says, taking back her hands.
"Then how come I know about the nightmares?" Rachel asks, eyes still closed.
Chloe frowns at her skeptically.
"What kind of nightmares?" Chloe asks.
"Give me your hands and I'll tell you."
Rachel thinks back to that time when she stumbled upon Chloe in the junkyard, fast asleep in her truck. She was mumbling something… but what was it again?
"Marshmallows," Rachel says.
Chloe takes her hands away from Rachel and scoots back on the bed.
"That's a stupid thing to have a nightmare about," Chloe says.
Rachel opens her eyes and leans on her elbow.
"What's goin' on with you, Chloe?" Rachel asks.
Chloe grabs the sherry off the dresser and goes for another gulp.
"Nothing's goin' on with me. I'm footloose and fancy free over here—I'm done with David, done with Blackhell, done with the stupid Prescotts and Arcadia Bay. I'm ready to get outta this town and not look back. I just need to get my shit together and pick a destination."
"Then why are you biting your nails?"
"Because this prissy little drama queen won't get off my back and thinks I have nightmares about marshmallows," Chloe says.
"Okay," Rachel says, admitting defeat. "Well why don't we listen to some music or something? I bought a CD from that guy at the Firewalk concert…"
"As long as you don't try to psychoanalyze my cosmic response to the undertones of the synth," Chloe says.
"Scout's honor," Rachel promises.
Chloe flops down into the pillows while Rachel digs around on her desk for the CD, finally finding it under her planner and sliding it into her CD player. She isn't sure why, but Chloe is somehow comforted by smelling like Rachel. Maybe James won't know the difference between the girls and Chloe can use it as camouflage to get through dinner tonight. They say dogs don't attack things that smell like their pack. Or is it wolves? Chloe can't remember. She doesn't particularly like either, but she'd much rather be cornered by a dog, that's for sure.
But she's hoping she's never cornered by anything, honestly.
When Rachel comes back over to the bed, she lays closer than Chloe would maybe like… but the problem is that she maybe does like it. Or is it the attention she likes? The undercoat of paint beneath the gold leaf that normally coats Rachel Amber seems pretty plain to Chloe. Knowing that makes Chloe feel a little better about being so human. Even bulletproof princesses have a pulse. And when Rachel snuggles up close to Chloe's left side, there's a moment where Chloe thinks that maybe this is some type of superpower. Maybe caring about someone like Rachel can be powerful enough to keep Chloe from being devoured by the messiness that comes with everything Rachel drags along.
Though if she didn't care about Rachel, she might not be in danger in the first place.
Maybe that's the trade.
Maybe caring is the superpower as much as it's the kryptonite.