Chapter 12 - Keila (Originally Published: 23 October 2015)

"Eleanor?"

Keila's eyes shot open.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

Out of reflex, she pulled the covers over her naked form in case Phillip were to wander into the room again. The hallway light was bright, and she had to squint to see him standing there in his bathrobe, talking to a picture on the wall. "Baby, wake up." She nudged her boyfriend.

"You're looking beautiful as always, darling."

"Hnn?" Guy groaned, irritated with her prodding him.

"Wake up. He's doing it again." She nudged him once more.

Sitting up, Guy looked around the floor for his pants. With no luck, he grabbed a pair of fleece trousers and pulled those on instead. Keila watched as he stood at the door to his room, facing Phillip in the hall.

"Come on, Dad. What are you doing?"

Phillip smiled a big toothy smile. Keila could see he wasn't wearing his glasses. "Your mother and I were just talking, lad. She's making your favourite for supper." He turned to look at the picture again. "No one can cook quite like you can, Eleanor. Although, Bartholomew is getting quite good. Perhaps you could teach him a few things?"

Keila lay her head back down on the pillow, staring blankly ahead. The ornately framed photograph on the bedside caught her eye, and her gaze remained frozen on the happy Carson family as they waved at the cameraman.

"Dad… Mum's dead. Remember?"

There was a long pause. "Surely you're mistaken. I just saw her."

"No, you were just dreaming again. She's been dead for ten years."

"I… I don't remember." Phillip's voice shivered under the cold cloak of doubt.

"I know, Dad. I know. Let's get you back to bed." She didn't see Guy wrap an arm around his father's shoulders. Nor did she see him carefully guiding Phillip back to his room, but she knew the motions. This routine had become more and more frequent in the past year.

Phillip's slippers made a light plopping sound against the hardwood floor, growing fainter. "What… What happened to her? How did she go?"

Keila covered her head with a pillow, not wanting those words to ever reach her ears again. Hearing it once was one time too many.

After a while, the bed sank down under the weight of her boyfriend's return. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him sitting on the edge with his head in his hands. His shoulders shook with a quiet, muffled sobbing.

Keila sat up and moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his midsection. She kissed the nape of his neck before resting her head against the freckled skin of his bare back.

"He's getting worse," Guy said, his voice cracking.

She didn't say anything. It was true, and denying it wasn't going to do anyone any good.

"It's not going to be much longer until everyone else realises it too. He'll lose his job. What am I supposed to do?" A long, low whine escaped him. "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know, baby. I'm sorry. I wish I had the answers for you."

Guy turned to look at her, his face contorted by despair. It hurt her so much to see him go through this. She kissed him, wishing that she could somehow take all his pain away and bear it herself. "Come back to bed, please," she said.

His skin was cold and clammy against her back as he crawled into bed behind her. Their hands sought each other in the darkness, tangling together desperately.

Keila stared into the night, watching hidden objects slowly come into focus as her eyes adjusted to the lack of lighting. They lay like that for hours, aware that the other was just as awake, but too stricken with grief to say anything.

Sleep came bearing no rest, but fitful terrors. Keila tossed and turned, trying to shake off the grip that her memories had on her.

She was already awake when their alarm went off, her heart leaden with the weight of half-remembered nightmares. Guy reached over to shut off the blaring device, taking all his warmth with him when he moved away.

Pulling the covers over her bare shoulders, Keila turned around to face him.

When he settled back against the pillow he looked at her for a long time before reaching out and touching her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said. "I'm sorry I can't make you happy."

He scooted closer, making a quiet shushing sound. "Don't ever say that." He kissed her forehead. "You make me plenty happy."

"That's not what I meant."

Guy shook his head. "I don't care. I have you and that's all that matters."

As much as she wanted to lay in bed all day like this, she knew they couldn't. Keila placed a kiss on the tip of his long nose. "Let's get ready for school."

"So, there's this beastly fungus growing out of one of the sinks in the boys' bathroom, yeah? And I'm in there with Derek S., and I tells this fuckin' kid, 'I dare you to eat that.' And he looks at it all disgusted, like. Then, he scrapes some off with his finger and eats it!" Guy guffawed obnoxiously, grabbing his stomach when it hurt to laugh. "You should have seen it! His face turned the colour of the mould!"

"Charming," Phoebe said, sarcastically.

Keila was turned off by Guy's stories as much as the next person, but that was her boyfriend. Only she was allowed to shut him down like that.

The redhead turned to Marceline, looking up at her through thick eyelashes. "It's quite a bit cold in here."

Like a puppet being pulled into motion, Marceline shrugged off her leather jacket and draped it around Phoebe's shoulders. "Is that better?"

"Much."

Keila wanted to barf. Leslie was seated in the row behind them, watching the show unfold in front of her. She seemed to pick up on Keila's disgust, and an evil grin grew across her stupid face.

One of the doors to the auditorium swung outward, drawing their attentions to the comfortably dressed girl walking down the sloped walkway.

"Bonnie!" Marceline jumped to her feet, rushing up to meet her. Now it was Keila's turn to gloat.

Bonnie immediately hugged her, tiptoeing to wrap her arms around Marceline's neck despite being the same height. They both seemed so cheerful and happy. Marceline squeezed her, leaving no space between them.

Keila could read people easily, and though Phoebe's face betrayed no emotion, the look of intense jealousy glittering in her eyes exposed her true feelings. Keila revelled in the knowledge that she was seething beneath her cool façade. Behind them, Leslie just looked annoyed.

The two girls talked, both of them smiling like huge dorks in each other's presence. I haven't seen Marce this happy in a long time.

Bonnie kept glancing in their direction though, probably curious as to why the two vastly different groups were together. Her eyes passed over Phoebe more often than not, Keila realised.

"I'll see you in class," Marceline said, and with another extended hug, Bonnie departed.

She reclaimed her seat, seemingly unaware of the tension in the air.

"What was that about?" Phoebe asked, pointedly.

"She just wanted to see me before she went to class." Marceline couldn't stop smiling, and Keila felt sorry for how hopelessly in love she was. It'd been that way since they were kids though, she should be used to it by now.

Guy had more stories to tell. His accounts of the strange and gross happenings in Whitewater were his biggest source of entertainment. As usual, Bongo only sat and listened. Secretly, Keila hoped that one of her boyfriend's stories would scare the two undesirable girls away, but she had no luck there. Phoebe didn't seem to care about anything at all - or if she did, she never showed it - and Leslie actually laughed at some of his stories.

When the bell rang, she followed Marceline out of the auditorium. They'd taken to hanging out there in the mornings and at lunch, despite her protests. No one wanted to deal with how wroth Finn was with their lot. Keila merely didn't want to deal with the theatre kids, but she was the only one who seemed to be bothered by them.

"Giving her your jacket, Marce? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two were still shagging."

"We're just friends. That's it." Marceline's eyes warned her with a piercing glare to drop that notion.

Keila scoffed. "Just friends? It looks to me like she has you under her thumb."

Marceline ignored the remark. Likely she knew it to be true. Neither girl said another word until they got to class.

Andrews was probably Keila's favourite teacher. Although, if anyone asked she would feel obligated to reply that it was Guy's dad. There was nothing wrong with the way Professor Carson taught, to be fair, it was just that Andrews was super laid back. All they ever did in music class was either play with the studio software on the school computers, or have a free day in the music room doing whatever they pleased. Most people just sat around and talked, but Keila quite liked to play with the many instruments the school had to offer.

Today happened to be a free day. She sat with her best friend on the floor with a couple of acoustic guitars. They weren't really Keila's preference, but thanks to Marceline's little stunt the other week they were temporarily banned from using any amplifiers.

Keila missed playing the other instruments, to be sure - the action on acoustics was higher than what she was used to, and it hurt her fingers.

"Have you talked to Finn recently?" Marceline asked, all of a sudden.

Keila was practising a guitar riff, but paused to concentrate on the conversation. "No. Why would I? Finn hates us now."

"I don't know. To apologise? I've been thinking of talking to Jake about what happened."

The short blonde boy was on the other side of the room. He was a good kid, maybe even cool, but their worlds were too different. He'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Jake's not the type who would accept an apology from us. There's no point in trying," Keila said.

Stubbornly determined, Marceline set her guitar down and got to her feet. She took three steps towards him, stopped, and turned around, her eyes wide with fear. "I can't do it."

"All right, I guess this is important to you. Do you need me to go with?"

Marceline's fingers twitched nervously, tugging at the red hair tie around her wrist. "I'd really like that."

Keila set her own guitar to the side and walked alongside Marceline. Jake was sitting by himself, playing viola to the sheet music in front of him.

Her friend looked nervous, so Keila put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "You got this, Marce," she whispered.

"Hey, Jake?" Her voice was soft and sincere.

The Mertens boy turned around in his seat. "What do you want?"

Marceline took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I just wanted to say… that I'm sorry." There was not a question of what for.

"Well, you did. Now leave me alone."

Keila rolled her eyes. Somehow she knew he wasn't going to hear them out, but she was mad. Marceline at least tried, and that was all he could give her? "For fuck's sake. We're all sorry for what happened, Jake. Can't we just let bygones be bygones? We're all friends here. We should be able to get past this and move on with our lives."

Jake shook his head. "No. No, we're not. Just because Marceline and Bonnie are friends, doesn't mean we have to be. I want all of you to stay far away from me and my brother."

"I never did anything to Finn," Marceline said. There was a defensive bite to her words.

Jake looked up at her, like an overconfident Pug staring down a Doberman. "You know, you gush a lot when you're drunk."

Marceline froze, shrinking in on herself.

"I can see you know what I'm talking about. I didn't out you or anything, just so you know."

"Thank you," Marceline said, softly.

"But I will. If you ever come near me or my brother again… I'll tell her everything." With that, Jake turned back around and picked up where he left off on the sheet of music, putting a metaphorical distance between them.

As they sat back down in their spot, Keila asked, "What's he talking about, Marce?"

"We were drunk that night and… I told him everything."

There was no need for explanation. For Marceline, there was only one "everything." Keila hugged her. "I'm sorry, babes."

The rest of the class seemed to pass by in a haze of missed beats and discords. Neither one of them could concentrate after talking to Jake. Marceline was too upset, and Keila just hated to see her best friend feeling sorry for herself.

By the time literature class rolled around, Keila was ready to go home. The world of Whitewater High School was one she did not belong in. Between the many cliques and clichés, she was one of the few people with no communal affiliation.

Bea was sitting in the back of the literature room, beaming brightly when she saw Keila walk in.

"How are you, sweetheart?" she asked, sitting next to her friend.

Bea threw her hands up in a shrug, her long sleeves making a fwopping sound as they flapped back and forth. "I'm okay! How are you?"

"Much better now that I get to see your pretty face," Keila said. The younger girl blushed and hid behind her sleeves.

"You're friends with it now, are you?" Leslie said from the front of the room, sneering at Bea and Keila sitting together.

Keila rose to her feet, ready to fight. What kind of friend would she be if she let Leslie push Bea around? Mrs. Jefferson shot her a challenging look then, and she realised that taking action would be a big mistake. Keila's record was clean, with the exception of one pardoned offence, but she knew if she got in trouble here then Earle would find some way to make this about Mr. Carson, or Marceline, or someone else she cared about. She'd find another way to settle this. Soon enough.

Scowling, Keila sat back down. Wealthy kids were one of the world's greatest evils, she decided. "You think she'd be more open minded with the whole gender thing," Keila muttered.

Bea tilted her head to look at her. "Why do you say that?"

"Her dad's a well-known psychiatrist. Guy's therapist used to make him go to Dr. Peterson after his mum died. I don't know. I just imagined he would have taught his daughter not to be a steaming pile of shit."

Keila's young friend wrinkled her nose. "That isn't very nice to say. I know Leslie is mean to me, but you don't have to be mean to her as well."

That was true, and it didn't make Keila feel all that great about herself. Eager to change the subject, she rooted around in her bag for a guitar catalogue, or something. She found what she was looking for and pulled out a tattered old magazine. "Do you want to look at this with me?" she asked.

That piqued Bea's interest. She sat backwards in her seat so she could look at the catalogue and all its bent, worn pages with Keila.

"Do you have any of these?" Bea asked, resting her chin on the desk.

Keila turned the page towards the middle of the catalogue and pointed at one that'd been circled with a red pen. "I have this one. It's a PRS guitar. Took me forever to save the money for it."

"It's really pretty. I've always wanted to learn how to play," Bea said, leaning in to get a closer look at it.

"I could teach you, if you wanted," Keila said.

"Really? That would be brilliant." She smiled at her before turning her attention back to the catalogue. "You look at this thing a lot, don't you?"

Keila couldn't help but chuckle. "I do. I suppose it's like my porn, yeah? Boys like gash, I like guitars."

Bea made a face at that.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Keila spent all her time with Guy, and sometimes forgot her courtesies.

"It's okay. I'm just not really used to it."

After class, Keila walked Bea to lunch and said goodbye. Her friends would be in the auditorium again, she knew. If she felt like she had a choice, she would rather put up with two angry Mertens boys than two snobby rich girls. She suffered through it, though, the same way that she managed to get through physical education with Leslie.

After leaving the gymnasium, Keila made her way to the art class where she knew both Bonnie and Bea would be coming from. Honestly, she was kind of missing Bonnie's face and the younger girl's contagious optimism. She could do with a dose of both of their presences. When Keila spotted the two girls in the hallway, she waved cheerfully to them, smiling at the flappy-sleeved returned wave from Bea as she headed in a different direction for her next class.

"I've noticed you and Marce seem closer now," Keila said, as she fell in step beside Bonnie.

"We are." Bonnie's eyes crinkled when she smiled. "She finally told me why she's been so distant around me… and I think we're going to be okay now."

That gave Keila pause. "Wait, really?" She studied the other girl's face. "How do you feel about that?"

The smile faded, turning into the worrying of her lip. "Honestly, a little offended. I can't believe she distanced herself from me because she thought I would judge her for liking girls."

"Wait… that's what she told you?"

Bonnie tilted her head, her eyebrows knitting together. "Yeah. Why?"

Because that's not entirely why. Keila couldn't say that though, so she shrugged it off. "Oh, nothing. I'm proud of her for coming out."

"Me too," Bonnie said.

They turned down the hall to their history class, only to find the rest of the students were gathered outside the room as well.

"I guess Ms. Pearl is running late today," Bonnie said, leaning against the wall.

Phoebe and Leslie stood away from the group, likely deeming themselves too good to stand near the rest of them. There was a boy standing next to Phoebe as well - one of the school's rugby players if Keila recalled correctly - and though he was talking to her, Phoebe paid no attention to whatever he was saying. There was something more fascinating about her cuticles than a person showing genuine interest in her.

It only caught her attention when he asked her to see a film with him over the weekend. Phoebe's response wasn't a proper answer - she smiled, exhaling mockingly through her nose.

"What a fucking bitch," Keila blurted.

The chattering of their classmates dwindled to a stop as they became aware of what was happening around them.

Phoebe cocked her hip to one side. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Keila was so sick of her pretentious, self-entitled shit.

Phoebe crossed the hall, daring to get right in her face. "Say it again."

Keila could feel the blood pounding through her veins, her nostrils flared. If Phoebe didn't get out of her face…

"I think she's forgotten herself. Isn't she supposed to be nice to you now?" Leslie said, with a stupid grin on her face.

Shit. She's right.

"I'm waiting," Phoebe said, ignoring her friend.

Keila couldn't repeat it. Not without pissing off Marceline. She unclenched a fist she hadn't realised she'd made.

Phoebe's face was set in stone, with the exception of one raised eyebrow. "That's what I thought."

For a split second, Keila could care less if Marceline got mad at her. She wanted to knock Phoebe's perfect teeth in. Luckily for her, Ms. Pearl rounded the corner before Keila could lose her temper.

"My apologies for being late. I was held up in a meeting." She unlocked the door and let them in.

"What was that all about?" Bonnie asked when they sat down. She looked taken aback by Keila's simmering rage.

After taking a few long breaths to calm herself, Keila said, "It's complicated. Do yourself a favour and stay away from those two."

Bonnie was staring at the other girl, like she had earlier that morning. It only just now occurred to Keila that Bonnie had been eyeing not Phoebe, but what she wore. Fuck. Marce's jacket!

Lowering her voice, she turned back to Keila. "Are Marceline and Phoebe..?"

Without meaning to, Keila laughed out loud. "Phoebe wishes she was worth Marceline's time. Trust me. There's nothing going on there." Of that she wasn't certain, but it seemed to put Bonnie's mind at ease for the moment.

"Bauers, turn around in your seat. Class is starting," Ms. Pearl said.

Keila pulled her cell phone out and hid it under the desk. Then, she sank down in her chair so that she could see the screen, checking to make sure that her phone was on silent. She opened her messages to the conversation between her and Marceline, but paused. If she sent a message to Marceline directly, she would realise that Keila wanted to talk to her about something heavy and would probably never respond. She backtracked and chose the group chat she shared with her three best friends instead. "Hey, Marce. What are you doing after school today?"

Ms. Pearl was going on about the creation of Parliament or something. As usual, everyone else in the class looked like they would sooner watch a documentary about the creation of bratwursts than listen to her droning on about anything at all. Keila's phone vibrated in her lap.

"Aren't we doing something later?" It was Guy.

She checked to see that Ms. Pearl wasn't looking in her direction, and replied. "Sorry, babes. I forgot. Marce, I'll be home in the evening if you wanna come 'round."

As Keila stared at the whiteboard at the front of the room, she caught sight of Bonnie's furtive glances towards Phoebe. The jacket still bothered her. Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie. When are you going to realise…

"Am I staying at your house tonight?" Guy asked. He took his motorbike helmet off to get a better view of her.

"Sorry, love. I think I'm going to ring Marce and see if she wants to stay over. It's been awhile since we had some time alone together."

"Right-o. Is your mum gonna take you to school in the morning then?"

"If she has time. We can just walk. Or get Bongo to get us," Keila said.

They shared a long kiss, and Keila was sure that if her five younger siblings were home they would be watching at the window, giggling at the two of them. Let them laugh.

She said goodbye and watched Guy drive away until he was no longer visible to her, then she went inside. Her mother was standing in the lounge sorting through some papers, a contemplative look on her face.

"Hey mum," Keila said. She let Imani kiss her on the forehead. "How was work?"

"The usual. I saw Marceline sneaking through the garden earlier. Someone ought to tell that girl she isn't fooling anyone."

Keila chuckled at that. "Where's she now?"

"Asleep when I went to check on her. Find out if she wants a cuppa, yeah? I'll put the kettle on in a bit."

When Keila entered her room, Marceline was still asleep. She threw her backpack onto the bed, laughing when it landed on the sleeping girl, and even more when she startled awake and nearly fell out of the bed trying to get away from whatever had attacked her.

"Morning, sunshine."

"Piss off," Marceline said, none too happy to be woken via projectile impact.

Keila sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm glad you decided to show up."

Marceline stretched, looking at her with sleepy eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I only came for the kids," she said, jokingly.

"How'd you get here?" Keila asked, kicking off her shoes. She laid down next to Marceline, putting her cold feet on her friend who swatted at her with a stray pillow.

"Bongo dropped me off. He said he needed to ask me something, but when we hung out he didn't want to talk about it."

"Huh." Keila would talk to him later, if she remembered. Bongo always told her everything. "Mum's making tea by the way."

Marceline turned on her side to get a proper look at her. "That's well and good, but what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Right, that." Keila pursed her lips. "Can you tell me why Jake Mertens thinks he has some kind of leverage over you? I know Finn's mad right now, but he can't force you two not to be friends."

A groan. "I told you already. I told him everything."

"You said that, yeah. But Bonnie says you came out to her this past weekend."

Marceline pinched the bridge of her nose. "When I said I told him everything, I meant I literally told him everything." She shook her head sadly. "At that party… He said he knew Bonnibel. I was really drunk, and when he said her name I got excited. I couldn't stop talking about her and… And I told him."

Keila studied her for a moment. "What if you just told her?"

"I can't! She'd be so uncomfortable."

"I don't think you're giving her enough credit, Marce." She thought about how hurt Bonnie looked that Phoebe was wearing Marceline's jacket. "What if she wasn't uncomfortable? What if, maybe, she liked you back?"

Marceline rolled off the bed and sat in the chair by Keila's desk. She'd never been able to handle confrontation comfortably. "She's straight as a… Something straight. Besides, it would never work."

"You won't know until you try," Keila said. "Why do you think it wouldn't work though? You two are great together already."

"Because." She fiddled with her hair tie, unable to look at Keila. "Bonnibel is… always has been… Perfect. And I'm, well, me." She gestured to herself. Keila's eyes followed slender fingers to all the scars she'd obtained from clumsy late nights and pointless fist fights. Marceline's hand swept upwards, now pointing to her head - to the emotional bruises that Ash left on her already fragile psyche. "She deserves someone who isn't so messed up. Someone who could give her the whole world if she asked for it."

"I think you should tell her everything you just told me, you big dumb cutie."

Marceline shook her head, dejectedly looking down at the floor. Her eyes trailed over the cigarette burns in the wood, charred reminders of times she and Keila had been too drunk and too careless. "It doesn't work like that, K. Nothing works like that." She slumped down in the chair. "The underdog doesn't really get the pretty girl in the end."