A Street Over and a World Away

Chapter 5: The Revelation

Jackson knew he wasn't going to like whatever his father had to say before he even sat down. It was a Tuesday evening and his parents had just come home from a parents' night at Beacon Hills High. He found it irritating that they went to parents' nights at all, especially his father, who practically lived at his office. He skipped out on most of Jackson's lacrosse games and other events, but these he pulled himself away for? Fuck that.

Parents' nights didn't matter anyway. All Jackson's teachers ever told his parents was that he was a very good student, and some added that he had a bad attitude, but as long as Jackson's grades were good and he didn't get in serious trouble, his parents didn't hassle him.

Tonight, however, Jackson could tell there was a problem. As soon as his parents got home, his father called him and Isaac to his study.

Isaac Fucking Lahey. He's the problem isn't he?

"I just came from your school," his father said to them as Jackson sank into the chair next to Isaac's across from his father's desk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson noticed Isaac fussing with the cast on his hand. He wondered what nervous habit the loser would pick up once that cast finally came off.

"Jackson, your grades are excellent," his father said, smiling at him. "Well done. I'm proud of you, son."

Jackson grunted like he didn't care, like he wasn't inwardly glowing from the praise and the approval on his father's face.

"Isaac...yours aren't."

Jackson bit back a laugh. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he would enjoy this conversation after all.

Isaac visibly swallowed and squeezed his cast harder. "I'm sorry." He looked up like he thought Jackson's father was about to hit him.

Newsflash: he's not like your piece of shit dad, Lahey.

"I've been trying. I-I'm just not getting it."

"I know." Jackson's father folded his hands on his desk. "Your teachers said that, that you were clearly trying, and doing marginally better, but you're behind in most subjects."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

LOSER!

Jackson's father raised a hand. "It's not your fault."

Then whose fucking fault is it?

"Your previous home environment wasn't conducive to academic achievement."

Careful, Dad, you might want to stick to one-syllable words.

"That's why Jackson is going to tutor you."

"WHAT?!"

"Calm down," his father said with a stern look.

"I will not." Jackson glared at Isaac. He was staring into his lap, shoulders hunched around him. "Hire him a tutor if you want him to have one so bad. Why should it be my responsibility?"

Jackson's father didn't answer right away. Instead he refolded his hands on the desk and sat back in his chair, his gaze lingering on Jackson and Isaac each in turn. "I know this arrangement isn't what either of you would have chosen, but I've made my decision and it isn't up for debate. I'm sure you'll both work hard and impress me with the results."

Jackson frowned and tried to tell himself that his father was wrong, that he wouldn't work hard, that he wouldn't try to make his father proud of him by helping Isaac improve his grades. There was no way that should have been Jackson's responsibility, and it would serve his father right if he blew it off and let Isaac fail. Yet he couldn't ignore the involuntary spark of determination that flared in his gut. His father was challenging Jackson to make him proud; no, worse than that, he was telling Jackson he would be disappointed if he failed.

Jackson glanced at Isaac, already determined to do whatever it took to bring his grades up. He was visibly upset, and Jackson found himself uncharacteristically wondering what Isaac was thinking. Was he as worried as Jackson was about disappointing Jackson's father? Did he think Jackson's parents would kick him out if he couldn't do better in school? Was he simply dreading the thought of spending time with Jackson as much as Jackson was dreading spending time with him?

He sighed. It didn't matter. They had work to do. "Let's go, Lahey. Get all your school stuff and come to my room. We'll figure out a game plan."

Isaac raised his head and looked at Jackson with a terrified expression on his face. It was the right reaction. Jackson was going to make him work his ass off. He figured if a gorilla could learn sign language and a parrot could learn to count, then even someone as dense as Isaac Lahey should be able grasp the fundamentals of algebra.


Jackson was scary. Isaac had always thought he was scary in a mean, douchebag kind of way, but now he was reconsidering things. Now he decided Jackson was scary in a color-coded-notes, flashcards-are-the-currency-of-education, why-yes-I-can-recite-this-history-book-line-for-line kind of way.

"Solve for X," Jackson said, flipping open Isaac's Algebra II book and pointing at one of the problems from his homework.

Isaac's cheeks burned as he stared at the problem, at a loss for how to even begin. Eventually he took a wild stab at it and began randomly moving variables from one side of the equation to the other.

"Stop." Jackson flipped back a couple of units and pointed at a problem from the beginning of the year. "Solve for X."

Isaac sighed and looked up at Jackson, shaking his head.

Jackson grumbled and closed the book, and Isaac briefly thought Jackson might have been letting him off the hook. Maybe they could work on American History or English Lit. He was much better at those. But his hopes were dashed as Jackson went to his shelf and pulled out an Algebra I book - because of course Jackson had copies of old textbooks meticulously archived in his bookcase of crazy.

"Solve for X," Jackson said, pointing at a problem in the middle of the book.

Isaac glared at him, but breathed a sigh of relief as he glanced at the equation and realized he actually did know where to start.

"Good," Jackson said a few minutes later as Isaac finished and he looked it over. Jackson's tone was laced with sarcasm and condescension, and Isaac heard the unspoken, Good – at least you're not completely brain dead.

From there Jackson skipped forward a few more units and made Isaac do another problem, repeating the process until they settled on a unit near the three quarter mark that seemed to be where Isaac's skills petered out. To Isaac's surprise, as soon as Jackson had marked the page with a sticky note he closed the book.

"You're not going to teach me how to do it?"

"Not yet. Just figuring out what we're up against. Chemistry next." Jackson said it cruelly, like he already knew it was Isaac's worst subject. Oh right, there had been a question about best and worst subjects in the questionnaire Mr. Whittemore had made Isaac fill out. It figured that Jackson had actually memorized Isaac's responses. Isaac was beginning to think Jackson memorized things for fun in his spare time. He could probably rattle off all the ingredients in his toothpaste if Isaac asked.

Chemistry was much worse than Algebra, and Jackson seemed personally offended that he had to explain to Isaac what valence electrons were and why they mattered. Try sleeping overnight in a freezer with your arms twisted behind your back, and then see how important the Bohr Model seems, asshole!

They repeated the process with the rest of Isaac's classes until Jackson was satisfied that he knew all of Isaac's weak spots – Oh joy! – and then he reviewed Isaac's schedule for the week.

"You have a chemistry test tomorrow?!"

Isaac flinched. Jackson looked ready to hit him. "Uhm...yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me that three hours ago?"

"...You didn't ask?"

Jackson clenched his jaw and slammed the English Lit book against the desk. "Go to bed."

"Uh what?"

"Go to bed. Right now. You're getting up two hours early to study."

Isaac looked at his phone. "It's not even midnight yet. I'd rather study now and–"

"You need a full night's sleep. Tomorrow I'll show you how to cram to learn stuff short-term for the test, but I'm still making you learn it the right way later."

"Why?"

Jackson huffed. "So that when I ask you what a valence electron is in three months you'll actually know."

Isaac smirked. "Are you planning to ask me what a valence electron is in three months? 'Cause that's kinda weird, dude."

"Go the fuck to bed, Lahey."

Isaac chuckled and left Jackson's room. If he hadn't known better he would have sworn Jackson was fighting to keep a smile off his face at the end there.


"Jackson, how's lacrosse going?" Jackson's father asked, leaning back so Vicky could refill his water glass.

It was Sunday evening and they were having their weekly family dinner. Jackson had been waiting for the question.

"Friday's the championship game." He shrugged and speared a floret of broccoli with his fork, trying to act casual. "It starts at six in Riverdale if you wanna come."

"Of course we'll be there, honey!" His mother clasped her hands together and squealed. "This is so exciting!"

"Thanks, Mom." Jackson redirected his attention to his father, still waiting for his response, but his mother interrupted again.

"Isaac, sweetie, you're coming to the game too, right?"

Isaac coughed and glanced at his plate, then briefly over at Jackson before dropping his gaze again. "Yeah, uh sure. I'll come."

"You don't have to," Jackson said, glaring at him.

"Oh he wants to!" Jackson's mother insisted. "Don't you want to, sweetie?"

Isaac hid his mouth behind his glass of soda and mumbled an unconvincing, "Yeah."

Fuck, he just has to intrude on everything.

"Honey, why don't you have a party for the team to celebrate after the game? We'll provide the alcohol!" Jackson's mother said as she took a swig of her own cocktail.

"Lana, for christsake, they're in high school."

"Oh that's right." She frowned but then a sly smile lit her face and she winked at Jackson. "Well we won't notice if any alcohol goes missing."

"Dad?" Jackson asked.

"We will notice," Jackson's father answered, glaring at his mother. "We can't have drunk minors leaving our home. If anyone drinks at all – however that happens – they have to stay the night."

"I meant are you coming to the game?" Jackson asked, keeping his face carefully neutral.

"Friday? I need to check my sched–"

"David." Jackson's mother's tone was harsh, and from the corner of his eye he noticed Isaac flinch and snap his head up in surprise.

"I'll certainly do everything in my power to be there, son," his father answered.

Jackson recognized the guilt already on his face. He grunted in acknowledgment and cut into a piece of chicken, his fork and knife clinking against the plate.

So you're not going to be there. Got it.


Isaac fidgeted with his cast for perhaps the last time as Mr. Whittemore drove him to his doctor's appointment to have it removed. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and he didn't understand why Mr. Whittemore was taking him instead of Mrs. Whittemore.

"Relax, Isaac, everything's fine," Mr. Whittemore said with a reassuring smile.

Isaac breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

"I just wanted us to have a chance to speak in private."

Isaac inhaled again, this time through gritted teeth as dread pooled in his stomach. It wasn't that he didn't like talking to Mr. Whittemore. The man had made it a point to spend one-on-one time with him on numerous occasions over the last six weeks that he had been living with the Whittemores, and Isaac found him pleasant and easy to talk to. The problem was that Mr. Whittemore had taken time off work for this, and Isaac knew he wouldn't do that unless it was something serious.

"My grades have been better since Jackson's been tutoring me," Isaac blurted out, at a loss for why else Mr. Whittemore might have been angry with him. It was true too. It had only been about a week since Jackson had started tutoring him, but he had done significantly better on all three of the tests he'd taken in that time, even chemistry.

"I know. You're doing great, son." Mr. Whittemore clapped Isaac on the shoulder. "I hadn't expected such immediate improvement. I'm very proud of you."

The blood tingled in Isaac's veins. That was the first time Mr. Whittemore had called him 'son,' a term which until now he had exclusively used to address Jackson. Isaac tried not to over-think it. Lots of men Mr. Whittemore's age might generically call a guy Isaac's age that. Nevertheless, Isaac was beyond relieved that Jackson hadn't been around to hear it.

"Thanks," Isaac answered quietly, feeling an unfamiliar glow of pride.

"Your father's trial is coming up."

"What?!"

"It's next week."

Isaac gaped at him.

"They want you to testify." Mr. Whittemore sighed and tapped the steering wheel. "I tried to arrange for you to meet with the judge privately or pre-record a statement, but they want you on the stand."

"I-I can't. I don't know what to say." Isaac's heart raced. The idea of seeing the man in person after all this time was terrifying.

"I'll help you prepare, but all you'll have to do is truthfully answer the questions the attorneys ask."

"You...you're not going to be my attorney?"

Mr. Whittemore shook his head. "You won't have an attorney. There'll be a prosecutor representing the state and your father will have a defense attorney. Ms. Newcastle will be present on behalf of CPS, and of course Lana and I will be there with you for moral support, but we'll also be testifying as witnesses since we overheard the final incident, and because we want you to be placed in our custody."

"Like...permanently?"

Mr. Whittemore smiled and squeezed Isaac's shoulder. "Yes, we'd like that very much."

"Are-are you sure?" Isaac asked. It felt less weird than it had when they had first taken him in because he had gotten used to living with them, but he had still always assumed in the back of his mind that there was an expiration date on the arrangement.

Mr. Whittemore laughed and gave Isaac the warmest smile he had ever seen from the man. "Positive."

Isaac nodded slowly as he absorbed the information, finding that he actually believed it. There was just one problem.

"What about Jackson?"

"He's coming around, don't you think?"

"I guess." Isaac shrugged. Jackson had been less hostile since he had started tutoring him. He frequently got frustrated with Isaac when he didn't know something Jackson thought he should know, but overall he was more patient than Isaac had expected, and he seemed to be enjoying showing off how smart he was.

A few minutes later they pulled into the parking garage for the doctor's office and Mr. Whittemore turned off the car. However, he didn't make a move to get out and stopped Isaac as he started to.

"Isaac." Mr. Whittemore waited until Isaac made eye contact with him before continuing. He looked uncharacteristically nervous. "Are you happy with us? If you're not and there's anything we can work on, then that's what we'll do, but...this is your decision. We want you, please don't doubt that, but if you think you'd be happier somewhere else, we'll understand. We want what's best for you."

"No, no, no," Isaac repeated, stunned by how devastated Mr. Whittemore looked at the possibility of him leaving, like it was physically painful to him. "I'm happy. I'm-I'm the happiest I've been since my brother died. I want to stay."

"Oh thank god!" The next thing Isaac knew, Mr. Whittemore had pulled him into a tight hug, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and squeezing him close.

Isaac returned the hug as tightly as he could with one hand still in a cast, trying to ignore the flood of emotion he felt and the way his composure was slipping. "Thank you," he whispered.

After a little while Mr. Whittemore pulled back, clapping Isaac's shoulder again as he smiled at him. "Come on, son, let's go get that cast off your hand."


Jackson was in a good mood when he got home from lacrosse practice that Wednesday night. He was confident that Beacon Hills was going to win the championship on Friday. Their final practice had gone well. If anything, Liam's ability to better control his anger allowed him to be just as aggressive, but more focused. Aiden and Ethan were still doing their freakishly well-coordinated twin thing, and Jackson was sure they would mop the field with a team unfamiliar with their tricks. Meanwhile, Danny was blocking everything that moved, and Theo's constant need to show off was propelling him to hone the skills necessary to actually back that up. Even Greenberg was shaping up to be solidly mediocre. As for Jackson, well there was a reason he was team captain. He was stronger, faster, and a better shot than anyone else on the team. He was also an expert at legally taking down his opponents. Riverdale was going to get crushed!

Jackson texted Isaac as soon as he got out of his Porsche. He had showered after practice and had already grabbed a bite to eat with Danny and the twins. Now he just wanted to get his babysitting duties over with for the night and help Isaac with his homework so he could have the rest of the evening to himself. Maybe he could talk Lydia into sneaking over after everyone went to bed. He had given her a key to his house the week before. It was time she use it.

Isaac hadn't answered his text by the time Jackson went to his room and put away his things, and he wasn't in his own room either. Jackson grumbled and sent Isaac a second, more hostile text, as he walked around the house looking for him. Vicky pointed Jackson toward the parlor and when Jackson walked in he was surprised to find his parents there as well.

"Homework. Let's go," Jackson said, snapping his fingers at Isaac after grunting a perfunctory greeting at his parents. He didn't verbally acknowledge the fact that Isaac's casts had come off and the crutches were gone, replaced by only a leg brace, but he silently hoped it would make Isaac less of an unbearable klutz.

"Homework can wait," Jackson's father said. "We need to have a family meeting first."

"A family meeting?" Jackson asked, rolling his eyes. He didn't bother pointing out that a family meeting shouldn't have included Isaac.

"Come sit down, honey," Jackson's mother said, patting the space beside her on the couch.

Jackson's father was sitting next to the couch in the wing-back leather chair he preferred, and Isaac was sitting on the couch on the opposite side of Jackson's mother.

"Is this going to take long?" Jackson asked, reluctantly settling into the empty space beside his mother.

"Son, the trial for Isaac's father is next week."

"So he's leaving soon?" Jackson couldn't keep the smirk off his face.

His father glared at him as his mother placed a hand on Isaac's arm.

"No, assuming Mr. Lahey is convicted, he'll be stripped of his parental rights."

"Okay," Jackson said slowly, a sick feeling settling into his gut as he anticipated where this conversation was going.

"And we'll finally be able to adopt him."

"What!?" Jackson jumped to his feet, furious. Anticipating the news hadn't dulled the sting. He glared at Isaac and waved his arm at him as he shouted, "Him?! You want to adopt him?!"

"Baby, sit down," Jackson's mother said with one of her patented tight-lipped smiles as she tugged on Jackson's wrist. Her other arm was around Isaac's shoulders now, and Jackson hated how fucking comfortable Isaac looked with the gesture, the way he leaned into her as he stared at the floor between his feet.

"I will not!" Jackson turned to walk out of the room, but before he could take a step his father was on his feet, blocking his path and placing restraining hands on each of his arms. Jackson narrowed his eyes on the man. "Let go."

"Sit down." His father's voice rang with authority and the look he gave Jackson brought him up short.

"Why?" Jackson asked, jaw clenched as he tossed himself back onto the couch. "Why him? What-" –Jackson forced the tremor out of his voice– "What's wrong with me?"

"Oh honey, nothing's wrong with you!" Jackson's mother kissed his cheek and rubbed his back. "You're incredible!"

"Don't touch me," Jackson said, stiffening under her hand. He leaned over and glowered past her at Isaac. "I swear to god, Lahey, you will never–"

"That's enough," his father said, his hand on Jackson's shoulder. "Stop talking now before you say something you'll regret."

"I won't regret it." Jackson's blood was boiling. His parents had basically just slapped him in the face, told him he had never been good enough. Now all that was left was for them to tell him they regretted ever adopting him, that they wanted Isaac Fucking Lahey instead. He didn't care if his father grounded him until he was eighteen, he didn't care if he took away his car and canceled all his credit cards, Jackson was going to tell Isaac exactly what he thought of him. His head snapped back in Isaac's direction. "Lahey, you are a goddamn–"

Jackson's eyes went wide as his father clamped a hand over his mouth. And what the actual fuck?! He was treating Jackson like he was a child throwing a tantrum in public.

"He's your brother!"

Jackson shoved the man's hand away from his face. "He is not my brother! I don't care if you do fucking adopt him! He'll never be my fucking brother!"

Jackson stood and tried to push past his father but he grabbed him and held him in place. Jackson really didn't want to raise his hand to his father, but his temper was reaching its breaking point.

"I don't mean your adopted brother." His father's voice was calm, quiet, and the look on his face was unsettling. "He's always been your brother."

A cold terror crept up Jackson's spine and he quit struggling. "What?"

Jackson's father let go of him and took a step back so that he could look at Isaac too.

"What?" Isaac asked, his voice soft and brow furrowed with confusion.

"You're fraternal twins."

"What?!" Jackson and Isaac asked in unison as Isaac jumped to his feet too.

"Be careful, sweetie, your leg," Jackson's mother said to Isaac as she too stood and gestured to his leg brace.

Isaac ignored her and addressed Jackson's father instead. "W-we can't be twins. That's impossible."

"What are you talking about?" Jackson demanded, folding his arms across his chest. This had to be some kind of twisted joke, something his father had said just to shut him up.

"Everyone sit down," Jackson's father said as he reclaimed his own seat.

Jackson was tempted to use the opportunity to run out of the room, but by this point his anger had mostly been replaced with confusion and disbelief. He sat numbly back on the couch, joined a moment later by his mother and Isaac.

"We owe you both an apology," his father said, taking a deep breath. He actually looked rattled, his normally unflappable composure shaken, and in that moment Jackson knew with a world-shattering certainty that it was true. Isaac Lahey was his brother.

"Please don't be angry," his mother pleaded, squeezing Jackson's knee and Isaac's arm. "We had no choice. Mr. Lahey wouldn't have let us adopt Jackson if we hadn't agreed to keep it a secret from you boys."

"You said my biological parents died in a car crash before I was born, that my mother was already dead when the doctors operated." Jackson looked between his parents in disbelief. "Why would you make up something so horrible?"

"That-that is what happened to your mother, honey."

"But my father..." Jackson trailed off. Apparently his biological father was alive and well, awaiting trial for beating his fucking secret twin brother.

"I thought my mother abandoned us when I was a baby," Isaac said, his voice detached.

"I don't know why that's the story he went with," Jackson's father answered.

"How could Cam not tell me?!" Isaac asked, anger flaring in his voice for the first time that evening.

"I don't know if he knew, sweetie. I got the impression he didn't," Jackson's mother answered, reaching for him again. This time Isaac did pull away.

Cam. Camden Lahey. It felt like Jackson's head was going to explode. Despite everything he'd been told his whole life, he had a biological parent who was still alive, but he also had two biological brothers, one of whom was dead. What the fuck was Jackson supposed to do with that?

"How could he not know?!" Isaac was shouting now, as loud as Jackson had ever heard him. "He was five years older than me. How could he have not noticed twins around the house?"

"We took Jackson directly home from the hospital," his father answered. He cleared his throat and waited for Isaac to look at him. "We wanted to adopt you both but–"

"But I was the only one he didn't want," Jackson finished, filling in the pieces. Why did it hurt that that asshole hadn't wanted him too?...but why hadn't that asshole wanted him? Had Jackson been defective even as a baby?

Jackson's father hesitated before he answered, his tone modulated and neutral. "He said he couldn't handle twin babies and a preschooler running around."

"Me and Jackson don't have the same birthday," Isaac said, as though grasping at straws. That shouldn't have hurt either, but it did.

"Well you do but..." Jackson's father turned and gave him an apologetic look. "Jackson your birthday isn't really June fifteenth. It's June thirteenth like Isaac's."

"You lied about my friggin birthday too?!"

"It would have been suspicious if you had the same birthday," his mother answered, pleading with her eyes for him to understand. "That's why we've always celebrated your whole birthday week and given you some of your presents early."

"Oh really?" Jackson stood up and glared down at her. "I thought that was because you loved me. Guess I know better now."

"Jackson." His father grabbed his arm but Jackson yanked it away and gave him the most hateful look he could manage.

"My whole fucking life is a lie!"

Jackson stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

-000–

End Note: So, what did you guys think? Was it a surprise or something you saw coming? I tried to do some foreshadowing without laying it on too thick because I didn't want it to be completely obvious, but I hope it didn't come totally out of left field in a bad way either.

Feedback, opinions, and constructive criticism are always very welcome and very appreciated.