Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you, I do not own. This is entirely a work of fan fiction for personal amusement and fulfillment. I make nothing from this and own none of it.
Note: This is the third time trying to fix the formatting failures for this chapter. Hopefully it works this time around.
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Part Two
Chapter Seven: Antigone in ExileThe golden hour of Arcadia Bay's mornings used to be something she didn't see very often. Nowadays, with her sleep so irregular, it might seem likely that it would lose some of its beauty but it had not yet. She opened her eyes. A pale-gold glow splashed across the ceiling and, she knew by the warmth, across herself. Quiet, steady breathing tried to lure her back to sleep, but it was not her own. She turned on the bed, carefully beneath the red sheet. In hastily scribbled letters, the wall bore the phrase, "I'd rather have a life of 'oh wells' than a life of 'what ifs." Her eyes, still a little hazy, trailed down from the text to its author in the bed beside her. This was the beauty of the golden hour.
In her sleep, one arm over her eyes, Chloe was bathed in the light of the sun. She looked, for that quiet moment, like the bronze statues of ancient Greece would have looked in their hayday. God damn, girl, you've got it bad. Rachel stifled a half delirious laugh but not even the worry of the coming day could wipe the smile off her face. Still, there was shit to do before lunch and the post-lunchtime festivities. Chloe-Watching is actually a lot of fun, and all, but I need a shower. Taking some care not to wake the girl, she allowed herself to brush Chloe's hair back, just once. Rewarded with little more than Chloe turning over in her sleep, Rachel rose and crossed to the window above Chloe's desk. If she was awake, that would have resulted in a far cuter reaction.
Rachel was not a fan of climbing in and out of windows. With the air starting to cool just slightly in the mornings and in the middle of the night, she was back to her jacket and that did nothing to help her balance as she climbed out onto the roof. She fell down (unfortunately loudly) on all fours as her foot was momentarily hooked on the windowsill before she could get lose. Carefully, she waited until she was sure she was steady and crawled toward the edge. Her palms stung from the impact. It was certainly not too terribly cold this morning, even for being into early September, but the downside was that the sound of vehicles starting suggested some of the early risers of the neighborhood were out and about. I need to get down from here right now. The last thing she needed was to be spotted on someone's roof first thing in the morning. It was a little more difficult getting down than getting up but Rachel found herself a solid enough looking grip on the edge of the roof and lowered her feet to a small lattice structure up against the wall. It didn't look like it was strong enough to hold her but having snuck in at least three times suggested otherwise.
When she finally hit the ground, Rachel took a moment to wipe her sore hands against her knees. I've never been the most athletic, but getting up is way more of a workout than getting down. She shot one last look at Chloe's open bedroom window. Chloe was visible in it, leaning over her desk to look out at Rachel, rubbing at her eyes. Instead of speaking and giving herself away, Rachel blew a kiss and hurried from the yard, digging her phone out. Okay, so I'm not a ninja like you, Chloe. I hope I didn't wake up her mom. Or step-douche, for that matter. Rachel let the worry slide off her.
Making for the nearest bus stop, nearly a block and a half away, she opened her phone. At least six separate missed messages (most of which had been sent well before she fell asleep too few hours ago) waited for her. Four of them were from her father, the last of which began, "I am your father and you will…." Rachel did not bother to open that particular conversation. As she crossed a still quiet road, she opened the messages from her mother.
Mom
When are you coming home? It's been two days. I'm not trying to upset you honey, but I'm really worried about you.
Sera called, Rachel. She wanted me to tell you that she thinks she'll be able to leave the rehab center very soon. I love you, please call me.
She felt a tinge of regret at both missing her biological mother's call and at her mother's worry. Still, Rachel could not exactly continue on without going back to her house. It was not due to any particular affection for it, right now. In fact, she was rapidly reaching the point where leaving it for good was not only appealing but it was becoming a possibility. I wouldn't have to wait a couple of years if I just up and left this fucking town. There was, though, a reason to remain and that reason was hopefully going back to sleep so she would not be grumpy by the end of the day.
Me
I'll be at the junkyard when the time comes. Mind picking me up?
Not expecting an immediate response, Rachel put her phone away and waited rather impatiently. There was plenty to be said for having mobility. Chloe had a provisional license and could technically get away with driving them both around together but she hadn't really intended to wake Chloe up. She really, really does not do well without a full eight hours. Grinning despite herself, Rachel climbed onto one of the few busses their little town had running, especially that early in the morning. The ride was fast and she wasn't surprised to receive no response from Chloe before she stepped off the bus. Sera should be out in a couple of months and then we can figure out what's going on there, Rachel thought, looking over her mother's message one more time.
This stop was, at least, much closer to her house than the last one had been Chloe's. Just down the street, the house rose up above its neighbors. Really, Rachel had always been aware that they lived somewhat richer than most of the town, even through the veil of a pair of private schools a town over and then Blackwell Academy. The word some might use was affluence, but after seeing the difference between her home and even Chloe's, she was more inclined to believe it was opulence. Not inherently the root of all evil, that opulence was not what made her heartbeat pick up as she approached the front door. It was the concern of who waited behind that front door. They're always up first thing in the morning. Both of them. She tried not to think about it, given how nicely the morning had started, minus the whole climbing out of a window.
Not even the emergence of a mental image of Chloe as an ancient bronze statue of Athena put her smile back in place. Filing that thought away for another time, Rachel pushed open her front door. For a moment, there looked to be an empty path between her and the stairs up to her room. Like a soldier behind enemy lines she bee-lined straight for her objective and like far too many since the beginning of time, the enemy was laying in wait for her. It wasn't his voice which announced that he was watching, it was the sound of ice in a glass, first.
"So you do remember where you live," her father slurred at her from his favorite chair. Rachel turned, stopping at the bottom of the steps. "Have you also remembered how to answer your phone?" His voice rose in anger. Hair sticking up at odd angles, he looked as if he hadn't showered in a little longer than herself. "Well, young lady?"
"Drinking at seven in the morning?" Rachel asked, placing a foot on the bottom step. Almost subconsciously, the man's hand shook the rocks in his bourbon. "Careful you're not becoming an alcoholic. I hear addicts tend to turn up dead in this town." She did not let herself watch the end of the change in his face but could imagine the slurring man becoming enraged. "Besides, it's going to cost a lot to get hooch in the can." The sound of him setting the glass down on the table beside his chair was all the answer she got before she turned and climbed the remaining stairs. Coming from their-her-bedroom, her mother stopped, her face twisted into a look of dignified concern.
Feeling almost as angry at her-after all, she let him stay even after what he had tried to do to Sera-Rachel tried to look away from her, to her own bedroom door. This was the best she could do to send a message that none of this was okay, not what her father had done and not what her mother was doing by letting him stay in the house instead of telling him to hit the road. She has got to have more spine than that. I know she does. She felt her mother's hand reach out and rest on her shoulder and shrugged it off immediately but turned around to face her, to look into that face trying to mimic grace. Rachel had never done much more than roll her eyes at that habit of her mother's but right now, she was angry, seething. Her shoulders rose and fell in time with her breath.
"Rachel," even looking into her daughter's livid face did nothing to temper the woman's urge to maintain this prim and proper facade. "You really need to answer me when I try to call or text you. It's not alright for me not to know where you are."
"You'd have just told me to come back and as long as he's here, that's not happening," she responded, turning the knob on her bedroom door. "I'm getting some shit and getting out of here before he decides I'm too much trouble to keep alive, too." The urge to tell her that, if she had any common sense she'd put him out on the curb along with his precious sherry was not a productive one.
"Rachel, this is still your home."
"The guy who tried to have my 'bio mother' killed is downstairs having a sunrise bourbon," she said by way of rebuttal. For not the first time she thought she saw agreement in her mother's eyes, underneath that stupid mask of the good, affluent housewife. All she could tell for sure was that her mother looked exhausted. She was still capable of feeling plenty of empathy for her mother, even pity, but something was wrong about her father still being in the house and it made her angry. Imagine being confident enough that you'll be exonerated in your murder for hire scandal that you can start drinking at seven in the morning. Rachel turned the knob and opened her door. Actually, maybe he's just scared shitless. I hope it's the second one. He's got a lot more time to drink himself to death now that he doesn't have one of those pesky jobs to worry about.
Without looking back at her mother Rachel shut the door, smiling an ugly smile to herself. I guess I won't be sneaking any breakfast from the fridge. She set aside a change of clothes and then brought down a couple of bags from her closet. A couple months ago Rachel had taken them back from Chloe and unpacked her own supply, leaving more than a few shirts and pairs of pants hanging in Chloe's closet. This time she emptied most of the room of clothing into each of those bags and packed away a pair of letters from Sera and her copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream on top of that. With one last look around the room Rachel tried to think of anything that would be immediately necessary. Failing that, she carried the clothes set aside and her packed bags into the bathroom across the hall, locking the door behind her.
While the water warmed up, she stripped away two day old clothing, feeling a little bit of disgust. At least it's not super hot outside anymore, she thought, digging her phone from her discarded jeans. Underneath the earlier messages from her mother, she added one more line to the conversation.
Me
If you can, I would like to see if it's not too late to apply to stay in the dormitories this year. It's a better alternative than where I would end up going.
Rachel didn't bother to say that she was fairly certain if she went to Joyce Price (soon to be Joyce Madsen) and asked to sleep on their couch, she would almost definitely agree. The only problem with that was that David would go out of his way to make sure that she did stay on the couch. He had made it no secret what he thought of the two of them sharing a bed the first and only time she had been caught sleeping beside Chloe during one of his 'impromptu' drug use checks. Sometimes, Rachel thought as she stepped into the shower, I think Chloe is a bit dramatic about the guy. Other times, he does something incredibly creepy like come into her room unannounced in the middle of the night. Rachel understood exactly what he thought might be happening, but, it had not. At least, not yet.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, having added a brush from the drawer beneath the sink to her bag, Rachel took one last look down the hall and left the house. Her father was still in his spot downstairs but he did not try to speak to her as she descended the stairs. She responded to the sound of ice clinking against glass with the front door slamming shut. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She did not check it, yet. Pausing to let a car go past her first, Rachel crossed the street in the early morning light and made for the edge of town.
It used to be I didn't have any kind of problem finding somewhere to hang out, Rachel thought, as she ducked into the cement structure that she and Chloe sometimes used as a hangout in the middle of the old junkyard. Home, school, play practice, maybe a party, it didn't matter. Now nothing. With the school year only three days away from staring, she at least had that to look forward to and if they had rooms left (don't they usually keep two or three open, whenever possible?) she might have a dorm room to look forward to. For the moment though, all she could think to do was to base herself here. Rachel took a second to slide the impromptu door, a tall, rusted piece of sheet metal, back over the entranceway. I mean, what happened? Deep down, though, Rachel knew the answer.
She had never been close to anyone before Chloe. Everyone before that was an 'activity friend' someone she hung out with in the context of some shared activity like the play, or a club or even in one case a quickly aborted attempt at a girl's soccer team. Instead of upsetting her, the idea that Chloe might be her first close friend was at least comforting in one way: at least she had one now and, to top it off, Chloe was probably far more than a friend, not that either of them had gone out of the way to put a name to it it. Rachel looked around once. No one's touched a damn thing, she thought with pride as she trailed her eyes over the various items they had salvaged together from the junkyard to decorate their little hideout. Once, only once, some jock from Blackwell had actually wandered into the place after a party. Rachel, once she found out, had decided to make his life a bit of a living hell for a couple of days and managed to secure relative safety for their special spot. She still wouldn't tell Chloe how she did it and that, she was pleased to say, annoyed the girl spectacularly.
I wish I could have just stayed there, she thought as she lowered one of her bags down onto an old, busted bench and set about trying to kick dirt and leaves into a far corner of the structure. But since David the Dicktator can't find Chloe's stash, he's in a really shitty mood. I don't know what would happen if he pulled another surprise inspection and found me in the same bed as her. Especially how we fell asleep last night. She glanced at the plastic taped over one of the 'windows' of the structure and glanced about. Come to think of it, sleeping out here would be a lot warmer like that, too. She did, however, take a second to dig a sleeping bag loose from her other bag and stretch it out in the cleaner corner of the room. After a quick glance at herself in the filthy mirror set against one wall, she eased herself into the bag, clutching A Midsummer Night's Dream.
I can't believe I'm probably going to have to sleep out here, she thought, settling a now far more empty bag behind her head for use as a pillow. I mean, Chloe was fine to do it, but she's Chloe. She's kind of a badass. Rachel popped the book open. Okay, so I read this a couple years ago, but if this is what the fall production is going to be, I probably ought to refamiliarize myself. Especially with Helena, she pondered, or, maybe Hermia? Whatever the case, in that way she found herself a sleeping bag in the middle of a junkyard reading Shakespeare and trying not to wonder just when her life got so damn weird when her phone started to ring.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," she greeted instantly. "Sorry for waking you from your eternal slumber this morning."
"Yeah, yeah," Chloe responded, though Rachel could hear her smiling. The sound of the truck's engine starting in the background made Rachel pay more attention. "So, where should I meet you? We've got to go secure the package if we don't want to be late."
"I'm at our spot, in the junkyard." Chloe did not respond at first, though Rachel could hear her backing her ride from the driveway.
"It didn't go very well going home, then, did it?"
"Not at all," she responded, shifting in her bag and laying her still-open book down on her chest. "I don't think I've got one of those right now. I'm trying to get a room at Blackwell." Chloe whistled on the other end of the line.
"That bad?" Rachel told her that unfortunately, yes it was.
Sitting up on top of the bag, Rachel continued reading until she heard the familiar rattle of the old, half-salvaged truck. Before she hid her bags beneath couple of old metal signs, she freed a small, green folder and a cloth bag about the size of her fist. No honking came, but she still had to slow down and remind herself to slide the sheetmetal back over the entrance before getting into the truck. A little eager despite some trepidations, Rachel threw the door open and slid in rapidly. On the seat between she and Chloe was a similar folder, this one black. She stacked her own on top of it and then moved them both to the other side of the seat as she scooted closer to Chloe. Before she could actually greet her properly, they had a first.
For a lot of people, it might have been a small first but she knew better. The one thing that was clear to her by now was that when Chloe felt she felt more than anyone Rachel had ever known. It was part of the reason she wanted the blooming punk to join her for the school's play this time around. So, when Chloe leaned toward her and placed her lips against Rachel's cheek in place of a greeting, she smiled, widely. Maybe some of their yearmates at school would consider this silly, childish, but neither of them had gone out of their way to put a label on their relationship. This might not be a label but it was a stage forward, a confirmation of sorts and it was as comforting to her as it looked to be embarrassing to Chloe, who looked once into the rear view mirror and, pink in the face, began to back them up through the exit.
Consider that a good sign, Rachel told herself as she pressed close enough that Chloe could rest an arm across her shoulders. So she did. They talked about nothing in particular during the trip from the junkyard to the school, though Rachel thought about asking Chloe how it felt to be coming back onto school grounds for the first time since her suspension (if one discounted The Tempest.) Instead, she allowed things to be light, to be almost as calm and warm as those first few moments after she had woken up that morning. That being said, when they finally managed to find a spot in the absolutely packed student lot, the tone began to change a little.
"Wow, this place is busy," Rachel mused, stepping down from the truck. It shifted as Chloe got out behind her.
"Yeah, well, not everyone gets here as early as our target does. They're probably all moving people in." Rachel followed Chloe toward the dorms. Looking down at her phone she could see that the only message she had from her mother was a query about where she was, not at all an answer to her request for the woman to look into getting her into a dormitory room. To that end, Rachel put her phone away and kept an eye out, which is how she spotted the blue-uniformed man with the thick mustache staring at her from up against a brick wall. She nudged Chloe and gestured toward David, who was currently glaring daggers their direction.
"Oh, right," Chloe said, giving the man a wave and a far too wide smile. "I forgot to mention." Rachel waved too as Chloe continued forward, pulling from, of all things, her jacket pocket, a small wrapped package and passing it over. Rachel unwrapped it and, upon realizing she held what amounted to a bacon sandwich, she raised an eyebrow at Chloe, even as her stomach growled in recognition of food. "Mom says, 'next time, just tell her to come down for breakfast.' David says, 'Grrr, Gronk angry, Gronk smash." Rachel smirked, looking for signs of embarrassment on Chloe's face but maybe, just maybe, she'd already had her fill of being embarrassed over that. "Weirdly enough, when someone falls down on the roof, it's kind of loud."
"Woops," Rachel added unconvincingly before taking a bite. Up ahead, Dana and her father were pulling open the door to the dormitory. Chloe sped up a bit to catch the door behind them before it could shut and Rachel followed, wrapping up half of the sandwich and storing it away. Fuck it, who's going to hate on cold bacon?
"Oh hey, Rachel," Dana greeted. Her familiar smile was tinted by no small degree of pity, but Rachel did not acknowledge that. "How you doing?" I'm going to have to get used to people feeling sorry for me. The idea made her stomach turn and she understood better why the girl in front of her had trouble making friends with other Blackwell students.
"I'm alright," she replied, glancing back at Chloe. Chloe was technically between her and Dana, as well as the girl's father who was carrying a fairly loaded down box toward the stairs. Chloe, however, was still rather closed off toward most of the school even though Steph and Mikey had long since firmly opened doors on that front. In fact, as a result of them, Chloe had even brought Rachel into a new 'activity circle.' "Chloe and I are visiting someone who just moved in."
"Oh cool," Dana glanced next at Chloe and, more unsteadily, greeted her. "How goes, Chloe?"
"Everything's pretty good," the girl responded, following Dana up after her father. "I've been allowed back in, this year."
"Oh yeah? Are you going to do the play? Mr. Keaton absolutely waxed poetic about you, last year." Rachel grinned at the back of Chloe's head.
"If Rachel gets her way," Chloe responded. "The jury's still out on that one. What about you?" She's gotten way better about talking to people she doesn't know, after all. I know she still hates it. If that doesn't scream 'most improved actress' I don't know what does. They reached the second floor, passing someone on their way down who Rachel did not recognize. Another new dorm student? Once Dana and her father disappeared into her room, Rachel was left with the cool feeling in the pit of her stomach and the uneasiness sneaking in as Chloe walked down the hall and knocked on the door to room 222.
Okay, Rachel, pull it together. It was not exactly true to say she had been looking forward to this moment. Despite appreciating everything that the room's occupant had done for her or for Chloe and even enjoying their conversations via text from time to time, she could not help but feel a little off-put when Max opened the door to her dorm room, looking more than a bit frazzled. Look, maybe you're right about her or maybe you're wrong but it doesn't matter. This is Chloe we're talking about. Besides, the last time Max was in town was really intense. You're probably reading into it a little much. Rachel tried not to let the hug the girl shared with Chloe before letting them both in bother her.
"Rachel," Max said. "How are you doing?" It was a genuine query backed by what looked like a genuine smile. For a second, it was easy to forget that this was the girl that knocked Damon Merrick on his ass not once but twice without much hesitation. Rachel had seen what happened to the her after those moments of violence, but even with that severe reaction kept in mind-including the whole passing out in Frank's RV shortly after Rachel arrived, thing-she couldn't help but think that Max was a lot more than just a photography nerd and possibly a lot more than Chloe's childhood friend.
"I'm alright, I mean, considering everything that's going on," she added. It was hard to imagine opening up too much to Max about how things had been since she turned in her father. That being said, she already had, at least a bit in texts. Maybe it was harder face to face. "The trial's coming," she told the girl, her face grim. Behind them, the springs in the tiny twin bed assigned to Max cried out in protest as Chloe flopped emphatically onto it, overtop disturbed covers and a bit of laundry.
"Hey," Max said, suddenly.
"These beds suck," Chloe responded as she turned over onto her back. Rachel found herself rolling her eyes in unison with the brunette opposite of her.
"They're not supposed to be used like a trampoline, Chloe," Rachel answered, trying to gesture her over. Met with only an extended tongue, she contemplated a few ways to react that might leave Chloe rather speechless and filed those, too, away. "So, got the papers?"
"And the dice," Max answered, gesturing to a small bag and a folded pile of papers on top of her mini-fridge. Rachel turned her head slightly and did her best to read Max's face. Immediately, it screamed of someone who was uncomfortable. Why? Because of me? Because of being in the dormitories? That'd take some getting used to. That will take some getting used to. When Max had retrieved the bag and paper, as well as a tall, metal bottle of water from the fridge, she turned toward Chloe. "So, your friend's fine to have me join in?"
"Yep," Chloe answered. "We held off on starting a new campaign, you know, after someone ended the last one." As the girl sat up, drawing the beanie on her head down farther over her bright blue hair, Rachel looked pointedly away. "You know," Chloe continued, tauntingly, "someone whose mage wiped the party." Rachel now spoke over her, rather emphatically.
"So Max, how was moving in? Ready to go?" Max snorted and then agreed amiably enough. She was halfway to putting the paper and her dice into her messenger back when she suddenly hurried to her desk and closed her laptop.
"Okay, yeah, now I am."
"Let's go," Chloe said, rising from the bed looking and sounding as if she had been robbed of her fun in teasing Rachel. Perhaps to drive her point home, Rachel reached out, wrapped her arm around Max's and lead her from the room ahead of Chloe. Just let this not all blow up in my face, please.
At least if Max is crazy for Chloe, then today can still be called a session of Luncheons and Lesbians, Rachel thought. And Mikey, but at least we're all playing for the same team.
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