After We've Said Goodbye, chapter 9
A/N: Okay, don't shoot! I know it's been like fifty years since I updated. . . but I swear there's good reason. Er. . . okay, I can't think of one. I was just lazy. No excuse. The next few chapters have been done for a while now. I guess school was getting the best of me. Well, here it is!
"I wonder why I got out of bed at all. . ." –Dido
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I guess I can see why Jessica and Anthony were going out. They just have so much in common.
Anthony interrupted Jesse and I when we were about the share our first kiss of reunion, and Jessica totally ruined the moment and interrupted us when we were about to try again.
Really. They're perfect for each other.
Although I would have to say I liked Jessica just a little bit more, considering she didn't push me into the fountain or anything. But then there was that whole "you got what you deserved" thing. That just made me a little suspicious.
I looked at Jesse sadly, and sighed in frustration. Why me? Those good old mediating instincts were kicking in, telling me that I would have quite a bit of work on my hands in the coming days.
On second thought, Father Dom, I don't think you can handle this one by yourself. Stray souls of peaceful Native Americans, sure. Very angry, very much alive, spiteful teenage girls? Not so much.
Jessica didn't appear to notice my presence on the fountain, and she wouldn't have noticed Jesse regardless, so she just kept rambling on in that possessed voice of hers. Her shoulder-length ebony hair waved about her neck as she stalked out from the cemetery gates, and I swear I even heard her cackle wickedly. I'm serious. It was like I walked out of the Mission's hallway and straight into the set of The Wizard of Oz. If Jessica started making any threats about getting Anthony's little dog, too, I think I would have been forced to chalk it up to watching too many Judy Garland movies the night before, and just go straight home to bed.
I couldn't just be hallucinating, though. No, I don't have that kind of luck. This was unfortunately real, and evidently something I would end up having to tidy up. So, I figured, might as well cut to the chase.
"Um, hey? Jessica? Jessica Winters?"
The girl stopped in her tracks. She looked over at me in surprise, her grayish-green eyes studying me with contempt.
"Who the hell are you?"
Oh, good one, Father D. You really made some improvements in the Vice President position.
I glanced at Jesse and raised an eyebrow. He looked at me with what could only be described as tentative encouragement.
"Be careful with this girl, Susannah. She does not seem stable."
This much I gathered. So, instead of rebuking her rather rude comment with an equally colorful one of my own, I simply said, "I'm Suze. I, um. . . I used to go here."
Jessica raised a slender, inky black eyebrow. She squinted her marine-fog eyes at me, looking me up and down. I could feel her gaze rest on my hair, which probably looked exquisite having been styled by the Pacific Ocean. Not. "Um, so?"
Okay, so she wasn't much of a conversationalist. I could handle that. In fact, it makes my job a heck of a lot easier when I could just jump right to the point and not worry about the long introductions.
I didn't feel any particular reason to be nice to her, considering she wasn't doing too much for me, so I just went, "So, I hear you and your boyfriend got into an accident a while back. Had a little too much bubbly, drove a little too fast?"
If she wasn't a little ray of summer sunshine before, she certainly wasn't now. She actually rolled her eyes and—get this—put her hands on her hips so one jutted out in annoyance. "I wasn't drunk, stupid. If I was, don't you think I'd be in jail right now?"
While the thought had crossed my mind, I wasn't too interested in talking about how much alcohol, or lack thereof, she had to drink on that particular night. Especially not after that comment. I don't take too kindly to being called stupid, so I shot a glare back at her that way surpassed her own. "Well, it was an accident, am I right? Or was it? Because you know, apparently someone thinks the 'cheating bastard got what he deserved.' Correct me if I'm wrong, by all means."
For a split second, little Miss Merit Scholar Cheerleader galore actually looked flabbergasted that I had heard her little fuming earlier, but it quickly faded. She stalked up to me so she was no more than a foot from my face. Jesse, who had been watching intently throughout the ordeal, stiffened and stepped closer to me as well.
"Are you trying to tell me that I killed him? Is that what you're trying to say? Because I don't know who the hell you think you are, coming to MY school in the middle of the night, thinking you know all about me, when you don't know a Damn Thing!" She squealed the final two words of her rant so loudly that my ears were ringing for a good ten seconds afterward.
I can't tell you how much I just wanted to ring her little softball-playing neck right there. First of all, I'm sure she permanently damaged my hearing somewhere down the road, and secondly, she called the mission *her* school. No way. I may have only gone there for two-and-a-half years, but it was way much more mine than it could ever be hers. I mean, I don't think anyone else could possibly change the school as much as I had.
Okay, granted that disfiguring the founder's statue, wrecking a couple classrooms, and leveling the breezeway don't really qualify as positive changes, but still. None of those incidences could be considered totally my fault.
But either way, this girl in front of me was looking particularly livid. I had no doubt in my mind that she had purposely driven that car into a tree, or whatever, to get revenge on Anthony, who she assumed was cheating on her, and I guess she didn't take too kindly to being found out. She was fuming, if the way she kept clutching her fists was any indication.
"Susannah," Jesse breathed beside me, "I don't know if this is such a good idea. . ."
I snorted. "Oh please, Jesse. There's nothing here I can't handle."
Jessica, who apparently thought I was talking to her, brought a fist straight up in between our faces. "*Don't* call me Jessie. Understand me? And stay the hell out of my business, or I swear I'll find you and send you straight to your grave, too."
Wow. This chick almost sounded like me. Well, except I only used that threat on people who were already dead. Usually, anyway.
"So you admit it! You did kill him," I smirked triumphantly. Wow, maybe I should consider working for, like, the FBI or something. That confession just seemed to slip right out of her lips. Yes, I've still got it.
I only got to ponder my possible career options for a second, however, because that one second was all it took for Jessica to demonstrate her increasing rage by slamming that fist right into my face.
I was more shocked than I was in pain, which is why, when Jesse let out an angry yelp and grabbed me so I wouldn't topple backwards, all I could do was reach up to touch the spot on my face that would probably be bruised tomorrow and stare at Jessica, fury building up. Oh, she was so going to pay.
Remember when I said I liked Jessica more than Anthony? Well, I take that back. No one punches Susannah Simon and lives to tell the tale. Dramatically speaking, of course. It's not like I was going to kill her, or anything, but oh, was the thought appealing.
If I couldn't kill her, I could give her a bruise or two of her own, which is why I broke free of Jesse's protective hold and lunged at the girl in front of me, tackling her to the ground with an elegantly-placed roundhouse kick to the stomach. Looks like all that kickboxing paid off.
"Bitch," Jessica spat at me from her new, grassy vantage point. Oh, the comebacks are just *so* original. Seriously. Can't people think of something else to call me besides that? It's really getting tiresome.
I just stood there, hands poised semi-triumphantly in a fighting stance, with a smirk on my face. "Eat dirt," I suggested.
Jessica didn't appreciate my offer, however, and leapt up again, ferocity twinkling in her gray-green eyes. She swung at me again, but this time I grabbed the arm that flailed in my direction and twisted it behind her back and a rather unforgiving angle. She let out an anguished yelp and struggled to free herself.
I, however, am far more experienced in the physical realm. It would not be easy to fight me and win, and I made sure she would know that, especially since she was the one who started it to begin with—something I would be sure to inform Father Dom of later.
"Listen up," I said to her, while noting that Jesse had sat back down—albeit tensely—at the fountain. "I know what you did. I also know," I gave her arm a quick jerk, since she kept struggling, "that your boyfriend is under the delusion that you're still the distraught girlfriend—"
"How would *you* know," she grunted through gritted teeth. "You never knew him," even in the moonlight, I could see her eyes narrow, "unless you were the bitch he was cheating on me with."
I scoffed, releasing her from my firm grasp. "Not quite," I said. "Anthony's not really my type, thanks. Besides, I'm kind of taken by someone way hotter."
Oh.
God.
How embarrassing. . . I didn't even want to steal a glance in Jesse's direction, but I'm sure his eyebrows were raised way up.
This night just keeps getting worse and worse.
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2004 by Carolyn
A/N: Okay, don't shoot! I know it's been like fifty years since I updated. . . but I swear there's good reason. Er. . . okay, I can't think of one. I was just lazy. No excuse. The next few chapters have been done for a while now. I guess school was getting the best of me. Well, here it is!
"I wonder why I got out of bed at all. . ." –Dido
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I guess I can see why Jessica and Anthony were going out. They just have so much in common.
Anthony interrupted Jesse and I when we were about the share our first kiss of reunion, and Jessica totally ruined the moment and interrupted us when we were about to try again.
Really. They're perfect for each other.
Although I would have to say I liked Jessica just a little bit more, considering she didn't push me into the fountain or anything. But then there was that whole "you got what you deserved" thing. That just made me a little suspicious.
I looked at Jesse sadly, and sighed in frustration. Why me? Those good old mediating instincts were kicking in, telling me that I would have quite a bit of work on my hands in the coming days.
On second thought, Father Dom, I don't think you can handle this one by yourself. Stray souls of peaceful Native Americans, sure. Very angry, very much alive, spiteful teenage girls? Not so much.
Jessica didn't appear to notice my presence on the fountain, and she wouldn't have noticed Jesse regardless, so she just kept rambling on in that possessed voice of hers. Her shoulder-length ebony hair waved about her neck as she stalked out from the cemetery gates, and I swear I even heard her cackle wickedly. I'm serious. It was like I walked out of the Mission's hallway and straight into the set of The Wizard of Oz. If Jessica started making any threats about getting Anthony's little dog, too, I think I would have been forced to chalk it up to watching too many Judy Garland movies the night before, and just go straight home to bed.
I couldn't just be hallucinating, though. No, I don't have that kind of luck. This was unfortunately real, and evidently something I would end up having to tidy up. So, I figured, might as well cut to the chase.
"Um, hey? Jessica? Jessica Winters?"
The girl stopped in her tracks. She looked over at me in surprise, her grayish-green eyes studying me with contempt.
"Who the hell are you?"
Oh, good one, Father D. You really made some improvements in the Vice President position.
I glanced at Jesse and raised an eyebrow. He looked at me with what could only be described as tentative encouragement.
"Be careful with this girl, Susannah. She does not seem stable."
This much I gathered. So, instead of rebuking her rather rude comment with an equally colorful one of my own, I simply said, "I'm Suze. I, um. . . I used to go here."
Jessica raised a slender, inky black eyebrow. She squinted her marine-fog eyes at me, looking me up and down. I could feel her gaze rest on my hair, which probably looked exquisite having been styled by the Pacific Ocean. Not. "Um, so?"
Okay, so she wasn't much of a conversationalist. I could handle that. In fact, it makes my job a heck of a lot easier when I could just jump right to the point and not worry about the long introductions.
I didn't feel any particular reason to be nice to her, considering she wasn't doing too much for me, so I just went, "So, I hear you and your boyfriend got into an accident a while back. Had a little too much bubbly, drove a little too fast?"
If she wasn't a little ray of summer sunshine before, she certainly wasn't now. She actually rolled her eyes and—get this—put her hands on her hips so one jutted out in annoyance. "I wasn't drunk, stupid. If I was, don't you think I'd be in jail right now?"
While the thought had crossed my mind, I wasn't too interested in talking about how much alcohol, or lack thereof, she had to drink on that particular night. Especially not after that comment. I don't take too kindly to being called stupid, so I shot a glare back at her that way surpassed her own. "Well, it was an accident, am I right? Or was it? Because you know, apparently someone thinks the 'cheating bastard got what he deserved.' Correct me if I'm wrong, by all means."
For a split second, little Miss Merit Scholar Cheerleader galore actually looked flabbergasted that I had heard her little fuming earlier, but it quickly faded. She stalked up to me so she was no more than a foot from my face. Jesse, who had been watching intently throughout the ordeal, stiffened and stepped closer to me as well.
"Are you trying to tell me that I killed him? Is that what you're trying to say? Because I don't know who the hell you think you are, coming to MY school in the middle of the night, thinking you know all about me, when you don't know a Damn Thing!" She squealed the final two words of her rant so loudly that my ears were ringing for a good ten seconds afterward.
I can't tell you how much I just wanted to ring her little softball-playing neck right there. First of all, I'm sure she permanently damaged my hearing somewhere down the road, and secondly, she called the mission *her* school. No way. I may have only gone there for two-and-a-half years, but it was way much more mine than it could ever be hers. I mean, I don't think anyone else could possibly change the school as much as I had.
Okay, granted that disfiguring the founder's statue, wrecking a couple classrooms, and leveling the breezeway don't really qualify as positive changes, but still. None of those incidences could be considered totally my fault.
But either way, this girl in front of me was looking particularly livid. I had no doubt in my mind that she had purposely driven that car into a tree, or whatever, to get revenge on Anthony, who she assumed was cheating on her, and I guess she didn't take too kindly to being found out. She was fuming, if the way she kept clutching her fists was any indication.
"Susannah," Jesse breathed beside me, "I don't know if this is such a good idea. . ."
I snorted. "Oh please, Jesse. There's nothing here I can't handle."
Jessica, who apparently thought I was talking to her, brought a fist straight up in between our faces. "*Don't* call me Jessie. Understand me? And stay the hell out of my business, or I swear I'll find you and send you straight to your grave, too."
Wow. This chick almost sounded like me. Well, except I only used that threat on people who were already dead. Usually, anyway.
"So you admit it! You did kill him," I smirked triumphantly. Wow, maybe I should consider working for, like, the FBI or something. That confession just seemed to slip right out of her lips. Yes, I've still got it.
I only got to ponder my possible career options for a second, however, because that one second was all it took for Jessica to demonstrate her increasing rage by slamming that fist right into my face.
I was more shocked than I was in pain, which is why, when Jesse let out an angry yelp and grabbed me so I wouldn't topple backwards, all I could do was reach up to touch the spot on my face that would probably be bruised tomorrow and stare at Jessica, fury building up. Oh, she was so going to pay.
Remember when I said I liked Jessica more than Anthony? Well, I take that back. No one punches Susannah Simon and lives to tell the tale. Dramatically speaking, of course. It's not like I was going to kill her, or anything, but oh, was the thought appealing.
If I couldn't kill her, I could give her a bruise or two of her own, which is why I broke free of Jesse's protective hold and lunged at the girl in front of me, tackling her to the ground with an elegantly-placed roundhouse kick to the stomach. Looks like all that kickboxing paid off.
"Bitch," Jessica spat at me from her new, grassy vantage point. Oh, the comebacks are just *so* original. Seriously. Can't people think of something else to call me besides that? It's really getting tiresome.
I just stood there, hands poised semi-triumphantly in a fighting stance, with a smirk on my face. "Eat dirt," I suggested.
Jessica didn't appreciate my offer, however, and leapt up again, ferocity twinkling in her gray-green eyes. She swung at me again, but this time I grabbed the arm that flailed in my direction and twisted it behind her back and a rather unforgiving angle. She let out an anguished yelp and struggled to free herself.
I, however, am far more experienced in the physical realm. It would not be easy to fight me and win, and I made sure she would know that, especially since she was the one who started it to begin with—something I would be sure to inform Father Dom of later.
"Listen up," I said to her, while noting that Jesse had sat back down—albeit tensely—at the fountain. "I know what you did. I also know," I gave her arm a quick jerk, since she kept struggling, "that your boyfriend is under the delusion that you're still the distraught girlfriend—"
"How would *you* know," she grunted through gritted teeth. "You never knew him," even in the moonlight, I could see her eyes narrow, "unless you were the bitch he was cheating on me with."
I scoffed, releasing her from my firm grasp. "Not quite," I said. "Anthony's not really my type, thanks. Besides, I'm kind of taken by someone way hotter."
Oh.
God.
How embarrassing. . . I didn't even want to steal a glance in Jesse's direction, but I'm sure his eyebrows were raised way up.
This night just keeps getting worse and worse.
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2004 by Carolyn