Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you, I don't own. This is a work of fanfiction for personal amusement, fulfillment and maybe a bit of self-therapy. I make nothing from any of it. Cheers.
Chapter Twenty: Dine in Hell
October 19th, 2010
She stuffed the plastic bag beneath her arm so that she could use her other hand to balance as she descended the stairs. The house was unusual in its silence. She so rarely came home so early in the day, when both her mother and David were at work. If Keaton didn't demand I bring in what I have of the outfit today, I wouldn't have done it today, either. She could get used to spending time in the house in some silence. Or well, not in silence, just alone. Blaring music throughout the house, laying in the backyard with a smoke or, better yet, a smoke and Rachel and Max; these all sounded like great ideas. If she had thought to bring either of them along with her, she might even slow down and indulge in just that.
As it was, Chloe came off the bottom step a little quicker and harder was necessary, rather in a hurry to get to campus before practice started and get the okay on her costume (and the inevitable criticism) so that she could just relax for a few minutes. Her hand found purchase on the doorknob. At the same time there came a clattering noise from the kitchen. It was a noise so uniquely 'silverware-hitting-the-floor' that it could be nothing else. Okay, but David's still busy making faces at Blackwell student who moves funny and mom's at work so… who? For a moment she let go of the doorknob and made for the kitchen only to walk face first into her mother, who was coming around the corner at the same time.
"Oh shit," Chloe said, pressing a hand to her chest in a gesture she didn't realize she'd picked up from Max.
"Chloe," her mother said, clearly looking relieved as well. "I think we just scared the dickins out of each other." Chloe thought she would have chosen more colorful language but she had already gotten away with shit. "I didn't hear you come in, I wondered who in the world was coming down my stairs."
"I didn't know you were here, either," Chloe told her. Her toes worked against the inside of the boots. She felt the nerves come on all at once.
"Well, that's because I called into work after you left," her mother said, crossing her arms as if about to note how quickly Chloe ran from the house. If she does, she'll just make me want to do it now. Chloe took a moment to look into her mother's face. She found no immediate signs of illness. Oh god, please don't let it be the kind that comes only in the morning. The woman's arms uncrossed. Okay, let's not start that again. "What brings you back before practice?"
"I was supposed to submit a costume for approval but I only have about half. Still trying to come up with the big final touch. Mr. Keaton told me to bring it in anyway, so I decided to run back before practice." She hoped that maybe that would be all she needed to say and then her mother would let her go. For a moment, some small corner of her mind asked if that was how things really needed to be between her and her mother. She brought David into my life and gave him power over me, Chloe reminded herself. Do not forget what he was going to do to you because you called him out for following teenage girls around. Chloe thought not for the first time that it would have been better if Ms. Grant had gotten there a second later. "Well, I think I need to get back to campus."
"Wait," her mother said, voice firm, as if catching her in a 'gotcha' moment. Chloe stopped halfway turned toward the door and spun back around. Shit, here we go. "Why is it that you didn't come home last night?" the woman asked. Chloe sighed. She had been aware that sneaking in that morning had probably taken her a bit more effort than usual and given her away. Chloe decided to try the truth with her mother for once.
"I stayed at Steph's place last night." That was true. Chloe and Steph had shared a pretty good night, all things considered. It was impressive how fun it could be to just sit in front of the television with someone when they bore you no ill will and had not done you wrong. That seemed to normally only happen on Friday nights after the campaign session wound down. It was fun, and all on Fridays but Steph had offered to put her up for the night and Chloe had jumped at the idea. She slept outside of her house as much as possible. "
"How about not asking permission or answering calls or texts?" her mother asked. There's the gotcha. "Nothing?" she asked. "No?" Sighing, her mother stepped forward, though far from aggressively. "Then let me try. Maybe it's because you knew you were grounded for not coming home last week and weren't supposed to be anywhere but at school or in these walls." Keeping the bag under her left arm, Chloe shrugged.
"That is what David told me. Not what you told me. Unless you're going to look me in the eyes and tell me he has the right to hand out rules and punishments for me, now I'm going to disregard it like 90% of the hot air that comes out of his mouth." Don't tell her, she told herself. She won't believe you. She will never believe ill of David Madsen. Not something that bad. "Well?"
"Chloe, of course he has that right." Chloe closed her eyes and exhaled. Surprisingly, they did not burn, they did not begin to water. I do not accept that. A bitter laugh bubbled up alongside rage the likes of which she only ever saw in Rachel's eyes. Chloe slammed her left fist hard against the front door. Pain through it, but she knew what that pain felt like. Any damage done was only skin deep. It was going to be little more than an annoyance. "And just what are you thinking?"
"You know your gallant, chivalrous war hero is going around accusing me, Rachel and Max of being the school's drug runners, right?" For a moment her mother looked at her as if searching for a lie or wondering if she was making a joke. "And do you know why? Because he was following Max around one day in town and saw her walking on a beach about a mile away from where a drug dealer's RV happened to be parked." The fact was that Chloe knew damn well Max had been there to buy weed from Frank. Chloe hadn't gone to him since May and her own stash was now nonexistent. What upset her was that David had no evidence of Max even visiting Frank, had not seen it, but didn't assume that he could be wrong. He just assumed the worst. "Then he thought Rachel and I's date the other week was us buying drugs to run. And I wonder that he just so happened to be in Edgeton the same day I was. I've never known him to go there." Her voice was rising. She hated the feeling of losing control of her anger. She hated the shaking arms and legs. She could not stop them, not yet.
"You know what, Mom? I'm no angel and neither are Rachel or Max. Maybe, just maybe he's right and all of us smoke weed." Dancing around it was only going to piss her off. "Let's pretend, you and I for a second that he is 100% right about that. Maybe she was buying weed from that dealer for herself. Or maybe she was out for a walk because she's having a hard time adjusting to living at the school and Rachel was busy that day and I was fucking here being told what a worthless piece of shit I am. Or maybe, and here's a crazy thought, she just committed the crime of wanting a burger and a nice view while she ate." Joyce began to stand straighter, her face to grow more serious. Chloe didn't know how to interpret that, lost in her frustration as she was. "Let's say it's any of those three. He didn't even consider any of those possibilities. He didn't consider that he was wrong. He assumed immediately the worst case scenario about Max because she hangs out with me and then, using that as an excuse, he assumed it about Rachel and I. And don't you dare try to tell me it was a coincidence he went to Edgeton for the first time since he moved in here on the day I wanted my girlfriend and I to be away from the people who keep making us out to be assholes instead of a couple of scared teenagers whose parents have turned their backs on them."
The last sentence came out as if she had sucked poison from a wound and was spitting it in disgust. Genuine hurt crossed her mother's face and, as she had when seeing it many months ago, Chloe felt pleased at that. She only got through to her mother when she was at her most open and honest about her feelings. She'll go back to complaining that I lie and hide things from her in a couple of days, that we don't talk enough. When I tell her the truth she dismisses it unless I tell her the whole truth and stop trying to protect her feelings. Then she recoils and acts hurt. I get to be the bad guy. I always get to be the bad guy with her. If I restrain myself, I'm dismissed. If I'm honest, I'm a monster and she's the poor victim of the bad bad juvenile delinquent.
"We aren't saints," Chloe repeated, pulling the front door open. "Me and Max least of all, but the idea that we're running every hard drug under the sun into the school for the popular rich kids to get high off of during their uber private parties is actually not just personally offensive to me, it's intellectually offensive. If you want to know about who your hubby to be really is why don't you as-" Chloe shut her mouth so hard and so suddenly against her words that her teeth hurt from clicking together. The click resounded in her head. She had been close to telling her mother about David nearly punching her a week before. If she didn't believe me, I definitely wouldn't be able to look her in the eye. "Maybe you think David's right and I'm a total monster, but Rachel is going to be an amazing actress one day. Max sometimes loses her shit when faced with a math test but she's going to be in galleries some time really freaking soon. Neither of them are risking their futures for a cut of anything like that. They're worth a damn."
"You are too," her mother called at her back as Chloe stepped onto the porch.
"David goes out of his way to tell me otherwise. You back him up in every way, at every turn. Don't you dare lie to me, not about that." She shut the door behind her to cut off any response. I want to break shit. Turning a full circle once, she found nothing that jumped out at her. A long time ago there might have been a lawn gnome or a plant pot about to meet its demise. Those things were always more the domain of her father who thought that something cute or funny on the doorstep put people in a good mood when entering your house and, who could be a rude houseguest in a good mood? There was nothing.
She was left with anger and hurt and destructive energy and there was nothing she could take it out on that wouldn't cost more than it was worth. If I drive like this… Chloe swallowed the thought. She had made a promise to Max and Rachel a long time ago not to get behind the wheel when she was angry. Chloe would never take her rage out on either the Frankentruck or her mother's house. Not with all of the work her father had put into maintaining it before he passed. David's made himself right at home but his number one priority was his fucking car.
She turned and looked first left, then right. There was no good target in sight, with the exception of the mailbox which she would have happily destroyed if she had access to a nice solid baseball bat. Whoever said petty vandalism never solved anything has never wanted to brain a mailbox. Chloe left her keys in her pocket and descended from the steps of the porch to the walkway leading toward the road. As she passed the bushes in her front yard, either hand reached out to brush them and finally, with a loud thunk her boots connected to sidewalk.
"Fuck this," Chloe yelled, head thrown back. Her vocal cords strained against the yell, her neck ached in response to the angle of her skull and eventually her lungs protested that they were trying to expend air they no longer had. By the time she turned left and started running along the sidewalk, she was already gulping in great heaving chestfulls of breath. For some time, until she shut her mouth and forced herself to breathe deeply and relatively evenly, she could not really pay much attention to where she was going other than 'roughly in the right direction.'
Despite the cooling air of the day, when Chloe got to campus and approached the stage clutching her plastic bag full of clothing to her chest, she was drenched in sweat so thickly that her hair stuck to her forehead and her shirt clung to her to a point where she imagined wringing it out would provide an almost comical effect. She had recovered her wits about her enough to not want to think about how she smelled or about how stupid she was going to feel begging David for a ride home if Steph were to say she was unable to take her back after practice. She was also acutely aware that she was late.
Arrayed on the stage, several of the actors' heads rose one by one to see her. Steph was first. Clearly not caring if she was interrupting what by then had to be the tenth runthrough of the opening scene, Steph snapped her fingers hard, drawing Max and Rachel's attention almost immediately. Mikey, who had agreed to work on the crew, also jerked his head up. This was Steph's Pay Attention gesture, the one she often used to call them to order when they got wildly off topic during tabletop play. (It was easier to get lost and confused on what they were doing sometimes, than people thought. Their first session in a dungeon last week had been proof of that.) It was also very effective.
When she nodded toward Chloe, those three and a few others turned to look. Rachel and Max were on their feet and off the stage almost immediately. Standing center stage, Hayden went silent. If Chloe's cheeks could have gone more red after the exertion of running (and then jogging) the distance to school, they would have. Mr. Keaton made a dramatic noise and declared that they were going to break for the first time that night. Chloe was simultaneously embarrassed and moderately impressed with herself that she had made that trip on foot in such good time.
"Chloe, what in the hell?" Max asked, stopping just short of her. Chloe was treated to a preview of Max's outfit for a modern-day Puck, in the shirt she had slung over her shoulder. One look at it suggested it was a far more blatant flavor of hippie than Max herself was. Of course she'd make Puck a hippie. For a second, Chloe smiled. "Did you fucking run here?" Chloe did want to answer but there didn't seem to be any saliva left in her throat. Mr. Keaton was talking to Eliot on stage, she saw, looking past Max just once.
For some reason she hadn't even noticed Rachel come up on the other side of her, despite seeing her leave the stage at the same time as Max. The girl reached out and rested a hand on her left shoulder. Chloe could swear she heard a squish as the hand pressed down. That's gotta be gross, she thought, turning her eyes on Rachel. She didn't want to tell either of them about the conversation with her mother or that she had let herself get so worked up that her alternative to driving angry was to run however many miles to the school. It's not likely I can particularly hide it from them, though, Chloe thought.
"Sorry I'm la-" she coughed. The back of her throat felt like sandpaper.
"Oh, hold on," Max said, before looking down to open the messenger bag at her side. She sounded exasperated. Chloe watched in confusion as Max dug into the bag with one hand and pulled up on it with the other to bring it into easier reach without setting it down. She came up with her green-tinted metal water bottle. Over Rachel's shoulder and past her worried eyes, Steph was approaching. Chloe accepted the bottle when it was shoved into her hands rather than let it fall.
"Not vodka?" she managed to wheeze, mostly jokingly. Chloe didn't think Max would actually hand alcohol to someone likely to be dehydrated but she still didn't particularly appreciate Max slugging her lightly on the shoulder. The cap of the battle came off with a nice, appreciative thunk and she turned it upside down, lifting her head up. I'll go fill the damn thing up, empty it and then fill it again for her. At some point her other hand dropped the bag to her feet, uncaring as it landed on the ground between them. Surprisingly cool liquid poured across her dry tongue and down her sore throat. Better than the vodka, mostly, she thought to herself once it was firmly empty. "Shit, that was good," she rasped, popping the cap back on it.
"Now, mind telling us what happened?" Rachel asked her. Steph stopped behind Max and crossed her arms, a firm look on her face. When Max reached for the bottle, Chloe lightly slapped her hand.
"I'll refill it for you," Chloe told the photographer, before turning to face Rachel. At multiple points during her run, she wished Rachel was there alongside her. Not that I wanted her to suffer with me, or anything but, misery does love company. "Um, my mom was at the house when I got back," she said, when she realized that all three of the girls around her were looking askance at her. Rachel squeezed her shoulder comfortingly at that. It actually ended up kind of hurting, but Chloe didn't say anything. The contact itself was pleasant. "I sort of lost my cool with her and rather than get in the Frankentruck and have a wreck halfway here and hurt someone I decided to kind of go on a run? Then I never turned around." Chloe shrugged. Rachel's arms were around her before she could stop the girl and she knew that the thespian was basically getting soaked in her sweat. "Rachel, relax. Everything's okay. I just got a workout."
"It's not okay when you don't answer your fucking phone and no one knows where you are after David- you know." Chloe looked over the top of Rachel's head and saw recognition and understanding in Steph's dark eyes. Rachel's hair smelled of some type of flower. Steph uncrossed her arms and then, hurting Chloe almost as much as the miles' long run itself had, a look of pity shot across her face. God damn it. For a moment, Max reached out as if to place a hand on her cheek and Chloe wondered if this was going to be the moment things got stressed to the point of an argument or discussion between the three of them.
At the last second, Max pulled back and Chloe gave in, hugging Rachel tight. She hoped neither Max nor Steph had seen the relevant thoughts and fears on her face but Chloe figured that her emotions were pretty raw and close to the surface. Rachel slowly disengaged from Chloe, as if to show that she didn't give a shit if Chloe was drenched in sweat or worse. A pair of lips pressed against the tip of her nose and then Rachel pulled away completely. This time, Chloe was definitely blushing.
"I am a massive asshole and I'm sorry," Chloe finally told Rachel, then Max and, for good measure, Steph. "But while I was running I fell into some kind of bush and I think I figured out what was missing from our 'fairy queen' costumes." I hope Mr. Keaton and Rachel go for this. Because I'm running out of ideas.
October 23rd, 2010
Rachel pulled her eyes away from the dark phone screen for the hundredth time to her mother's face. Two tables away, a tall 40-something who Rachel had never seen before but immediately knew as Sean Prescott from his fancy dress (not to mention that his son had his eyes) yelled into the phone that he had hired whoever he was speaking to to 'look after my son, not make these baseless implications and accusations.' Rachel's eyes wandered away from her mother's concerned, if polite face to once more glance around the restaurant. It was impressive how quick she forgot how to be comfortable in a place like this. One of about two "good" restaurants, if you asked her father, this place was so expensive that a fair portion of the town couldn't afford to eat there except on special occasions. And sitting this close to Overlord Prescott… yeah, not a good sign.
"Rachel, are you listening?" Rachel snapped her head back around and for a moment, one of those rare instances, she looked at her mother with her actual face. Today it showed the woman discomfort and concern. It took one long, shaky exhale to put a mask on that was more fitting. Did you ever think that's where you got it from? Rachel asked herself, staring at the 'prim and proper affluent woman' opposite of her. Did you ever think that you two are playing the same game? Rachel shook her head, to answer honestly. "Honey, what's wrong?" She wanted to tell her mother that this place felt fake to her. She wanted to tell her mother she hadn't heard from Chloe for eighteen hours and that was unlike her. She wanted to tell her mother that she thought she was losing her girlfriend.
The problem was, her mother was going to respond as her mask allowed her. My entire life you've worn that face, she thought as she opened and then shut her mouth as if unable to speak. Instead of answering, she lifted a glass of water from just in front of her plate and drained a good half of it. How many times have I talked to the real you? God, have I ever? And have you ever actually talked to me? Is this what we're supposed to be? I could tell you all of this and would you only respond as the mask allows you? Rachel shook her head as she sat the glass down. This is nuts, you're hurt over something that might be as simple as a broken phone charger. Rachel knew that that was a cop out. The Price-Madsen household had a landline and if she wanted to talk to Rachel at all and had no other way, Chloe could have come to see her.
"I got lost for a moment," she said, which felt like a pretty lame excuse, but it was pretty close to the truth.
"Are you well, Rachel?" her mother asked, leaning across the table slightly to pat her hand.
"I'm sorry," Rachel told her, in as cheery a voice as she could manage. She shrugged. God damn it, Price. "I'm sorry I really don't know what to say." Even without the constant specter of the cute bluenette's silence and unresponsiveness standing over her shoulder, Rachel had to admit that this whole lunch was throwing her off. The last one had, too. It was just pretense. Rachel wore her nice clothes; a respectable blouse and dressy pants and she put on a bit of light makeup and talked about things in a manner that you would expect the privileged daughter of a wealthy family who sent her to a prestigious boarding school to talk. To top it all off, she was biting back every thing about the big murderous elephant sharing a house with her mother. He might as well have been sitting at the table with them for as uncomfortable as she was looking her mom in the eyes. Though, I'm on quite a streak of not seeing his ass. We wouldn't want to ruin that, now would we? Perhaps she was so caught up in that that the truth came out accidentally. Perhaps she just needed to find out who would respond, her mother or that mask. "Honestly, Chloe and I are having trouble and it's really upsetting me." Her mother waved her hand dismissively.
"You're young. If there's meant to be something between you, you will both get past it." This was said emphatically enough but there was something about the tone of her voice that suggested she was forcing herself to say it. Rachel was forced to confront for not the first time that her mother disapproved of the punk who obviously smoked and had an attitude. Perhaps it was because she was involved in Rachel learning the truth about Sera. Rachel looked down at the pale linen tablecloth. Or maybe she was just an elitist. Or maybe she's a closet homophobe. Which of those would be worse? Her mother returned to the leafy green salad on her plate. Rachel, having felt a little rebellious, stuck with her far too expensive cheeseburger.
"So," she said, after giving herself time to swallow a fairly large bite, "practicing for the play has been kind of intense this time around." This one was a bit of a gamble. Her mother could either break their truce by asking to bring her father to the play or not. Worse still would be if she dared to do it without asking. That would be some kind of nightmare, Rachel considered. I mean, I'm supposed to be a little miffed off early on in the play but I would hate to get all hotheaded the minute I saw the bastard.
"And how is practice going?" her mother asked, apparently choosing the safer, fairer route for the moment. Rachel watched the woman set aside her fork again as if it was impolite to even hold a utensil while they spoke. Perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, Rachel picked hers up, speared a bit of her baked potato on the end and lifted it.
"Well Chloe had this really great idea for a twist on the play, and most of the cast got behind it. Since then everyone's gotten really good about memorizing their parts." Rachel kept the potato-ladened fork halfway aloft, trying to read something from her mother other than slight discomfort with her horrible manners.
"Isn't that lovely?" the brunette responded. She paused to wipe at her mouth with a napkin, removing the absolutely nothing that was present. Rachel almost lost the war against rolling her eyes on the spot. "How are you finding Titania?" Mom's had a love-hate relationship with Shakespeare since she was in school, Rachel recalled. Photos of her mother's performance as Juliet in her own high school play could still be found if one knew which attic-bound box to dig into. For a moment Rachel lamented that if she and Chloe were going to play any two lovers in the Shakespeare canon that they couldn't go out in a proper murder suicide as in that 'tragic love story.' In reality, the story was about a pair of teenagers who let their lust overrule everything, even to the point of leaving seven bodies in their wake, but that final image would have really stuck in the craw of anyone who might be concerned by same-sex imagery in the play.
"In the end, I think I like her better than any of the other leading lady roles. None of those were characters I think I could play very well. All too damsel-in-distress for me. I think I can get away with Titania." She tilted her head a bit. "Besides, acting opposite of Chloe is helping. I'm on stage with her and Max for a lot of the opening act." As if she hadn't heard a word of what Rachel was saying, especially in relation to her girlfriend (Rachel's eyes snuck to the still and silent phone on the table beside the silverware) her mother folded her napkin up on the table and made a point that Rachel hadn't seen coming.
"You know, you really are such a good actress," Rachel shut up, aware that she was now to be privy to something her mother had been working up to all meal but was only now coming out with. "And I really wish you would do more with that. This is the sort of thing you should celebrate and take full advantage of."
"What do you mean, mother?" she asked, speaking through the constraints of her own mask as was now proper and expected.
"What do you want to do with your life?" This was not the first time her mother had asked her that question. It was not even the first time she had brought it up over some private meal between them. However, this time felt different in that Rachel suspected that, lurking there somewhere inside that dark pantsuit, her mother was harboring an answer and a specific agenda.
"I'm not sure," she replied, half-honestly. The truth was that one of her major overarching was to blow Arcadia Bay like the glorified popsicle stand it was. Once they graduated, Max would have no reason to stay in Arcadia Bay and thus, Chloe would not have as much reason to want to stay. For Rachel, she was coming to understand that the only person other than the aforementioned girls who she had left to feel connected to, her adoptive mother, spoke through a mask at her so often. She had agendas and maybe they were even motivated entirely by love, but that just meant that they were the wrong actions for the right reasons. It was difficult to let go of the idea that one day Arcadia Bay could wake up and she would be a ghost to it and that would be alright.
"My friend Laura is still in the Film, Theater and Television department at UCLA," Rachel closed her eyes, this time. She imagined the open road, the cab of the Frankentruck, Chloe behind the wheel. The image was comforting. Imagined Rachel was just reaching at for Imagined Chloe's hand when yet another closed overtop her free one. Rachel opened her eyes and shook the thought and all of its implications away. Her mother's voice rose in pitch slightly, as if to signify that she did not enjoy this behavior out of Rachel while she was trying to decide her daughter's future for her. "She might be willing to pull some strings to get you in when the time comes."
"Mom, that time is still a ways away." The restaurant around them was nearly empty. Herr Prescott was picking at the last bits of his ribeye. This was not the society or the life she intended for herself .
"It might sneak up on you far quicker than you expect, Rachel."
Maybe.
She got back to campus a little under three hours later. The light was beginning to dim a bit by that point and Chloe still had not contacted her. There were no other distractions in her mind as she traveled the campus' well maintained paths. She excused herself from a potential conversation with the groundskeeper, Samuel quickly, who returned to repairing a bit of low fencing outside of the dormitories. Rachel tried to keep a friendly connection with Samuel. Much like Max and Chloe, Rachel was of the opinion that for some reason, Samuel knew a lot. If there was something to observe about a person, the man generally observed it. His strange speech patterns made him the target of gossip for both parents and student with bad attitudes about those different than themselves, but Rachel couldn't recall a moment where Samuel had done anything more aggressive than ask a student not to scare the squirrels. He likes nature, leave him the fuck alone, she thought to herself, before shutting the door of the dorm behind her, and on that line of thinking.
That of course, left Chloe and her silence. Rachel actually felt like she had had enough of thinking about that. All I want to think about now is the back of my eyelids. If Chloe's finally done with me, I can wait until tomorrow to find out.