Author's Note – So, this was supposed to be a three-parter. I was wrong. It's going to have at least another section - might be two.
Anyway, Shockingly, I am not American. I have never been to America so I am basing the houses off of the rich mansions that plague all early 2000's teen dramas and SitComs.
Trigger Warning - Does it even need to be said... Depictions of abuse and injuries. Oh, also panic attacks.
18.
"Brett, what happened to you?" Chloe had covered her mouth as she absorbed the image before her. His torso was mummified within their wrappings. A purple mosaic absorbed the majority of his face. His features could not hide the tightness as he turned his head to the side in his failed attempt to hide the mark. She was never supposed to see these. She's too good for that.
"It's nothing. I had a match yesterday." The redhead took a few steps toward him. Her arms mirrored his. She could feel the restriction crossing them provided, yet she couldn't bring herself to release herself from her hold. Denial had never worked well with her in the past. He couldn't help but watch as her face twisted with emotions. Warring between a soft concern and a tender hatred for whoever had caused this. Maybe for himself.
It finally settled on the same morbid curiosity that had trapped Aubrey in this situation. "Is it always this bad afterwards?" She had placed her hand gently on his jaw, leading his face to centre on herself. Her hands were always so soothing. Brett sighed as he leaned towards her touch.
"I lost. The other guy caught me off guard." His voice was gentle. As if this was normal. Which it was, he thought bitterly.
Chloe smiled sadly at him. Her eyes held a certain level of personality that always led to her true emotions, it was something that had always been endearing to him. But seeing them frown back at him with worry was something he never wanted to witness. "You'll get him next time. I know you will." Her voice was soft, but the effect still stung him. I better. She was so sure despite not knowing anything about what happened. Brett let himself feel the hope and belief that she was showing.
"Thanks, Chlo." His face was fully turned towards her now. A pinch in his smile as his cheek objected did nothing to quell his small sense of peace. James materialised around the corner at that instant. A smile burst onto his face as he absentmindedly passed Brett a button-up to wear.
"Shortcake!" He trapped her in a bear hug. Spinning her dizzy. "How have you been girl?"
Her shocked squeal generated a happy giggle from both participants. "Jay-Jay, you're back?"
"Have been for a whole 24 hours. It took you long enough to come visiting." She swatted playfully at his arm when he went to ruffle her hair.
"You know it's times like these that I'm shocked you are even related to Bree."
He bent forward and put on his biggest pout. With all the seriousness of a childhood crush, he questioned her. "Is that why you love me?"
"Oh, we totes are going to have three sons and a daughter." Her voice dropped a few octaves with the weight of her sarcasm. Nevertheless, the twenty-year-old fist-pumped the air with caffeine-induced eagerness. And people consider Jesse flamboyant.
"Yes! Do you hear that sis? I'm going to be a father!" The man's head darted back into the house to be met with the amused, if admittedly fearful, Aubrey.
"What the hell?" They continued to ignore Brett as the two golden retrievers continued to rally ridiculous banter between them. He looked toward Aubrey but the girl just appeared resigned to her fate.
"They've been like this since they met." Was her only response. "Chloe, good to see you." As she emerged to greet them at the door.
"Bree!" The girl went in for a hug. The redhead's eyes peeked over the other girl's shoulder. "Hi, Stace."
"Hey, girl." She flourished with a small wave.
"Sorry to interrupt you guys." It had made sense that if Brett was here then Stacie was too. They were practically inseparable nowadays. Aubrey's inclusion only secured their interactions. "If I had known you were busy I would've phoned first."
"Don't worry about it. Brett and I were just leaving." The brunette turned towards the head cheerleader. "We're still on to work on the project tomorrow though, right?"
"Of course." Nodding in acceptance, Stacie forcibly dragged Brett out of the building, ignoring his half-hearted complaints in the process.
Aubrey hovered around the entrance, simply eyeing the light-hearted shoves between the two leaving. Only when they were out of sight did she return her attention fully to her guest. "So, what brings you around?" With faux nonchalance.
"I thought we could hang out, just the two of us. It's been a while since that happened."
"What did you have planned?" Chloe could feel her cogs working overtime to come up with an idea. She hadn't thought of an excuse before she got the girl alone. Never mind the girl's brother and her ex-boyfriend being around.
Chloe's smile brightened at that. "Does James still leave his 'embarrassing' DVDs here?"
"As if he would be seen dead with half of those." Aubrey snorted with rhetorical sarcasm. "You know he blamed you for the Burlesque DVD he got caught with, and that was my Mother."
Laughing, Chloe dragged the girl to her room. "Perfect, let's go." The redhead took up the authority of setting the pillow pile to perfection on the bed as her friend worked on setting up the movie. Was this really what she was meant to be doing? Laughing and watching movies while Stacie was running around who-knows-where. While Aubrey appreciated a good distraction when it came up, something was missing from this one.
Where was the light chortle from Stacie when they would make a crude remark, something that always ended with a halfway decent snort? Or the soft lulling hum from Brett's soothing singing voice as he tried to back up any songs that appeared on the radio as someone cooked. Even Tex's soft drum was not appearing at the moment, and he was in the room.
Nevertheless, she got herself wrapped up amongst the covers with her best friend. Trying to pay attention to the answers with nothing but all her concentration. They laughed at the funny sections and the redhead had cried at the break-ups, but Aubrey couldn't bring herself to shed a tear in solidarity. She just wasn't in it today. But each part that forced her away from the 'reality' of the movie brought her closer to the world around her. Truly allowing her to take in the surrounding room.
The mascara-splotched pillow from Stacie's hidden breakdown that first day. A cluster of holy socks in the far corner from Brett's attempt at cleaning. The lost notebook which held an assortment of rude images that she had drawn of Brett before she knew about all of this. Even the pillows that they were leaning on were somehow more cherished than before. Why couldn't she place her finger on why that was? But even the thought process couldn't hide her friend's distress. Each action she was showing was becoming hilted with a forced layer of insincerity. The laughter was barked rather than free-flowing and the smiles would slip off the moment Aubrey's head turned slightly away from her as if she couldn't see the shift. Not to mention the constant checking eyes that would be pointed her way, as if to start a conversation. Overall, she was abnormally less gleeful; her answers have been more clipped without the added passionate rambling and her head had been absorbed in her room as if it were going to bite her. It honestly reminded her a little of Stacie, even down to the crinkled brow from her conversation restraint. She was hiding something.
"Are you alright Chlo?" Sure, it was whispered, but it did get the point across despite the volume.
The girl's head whipped upwards with confusion. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
Aubrey kept her eyes on the TV, not wanting to give her a way to see her emotions. "You seem down."
"Do I? huh." The girl thought for a moment. "Just been thinking a lot I guess." The lighthearted shoulder shrug did little to discard the feeling that was arising.
"Yeah, what about?"
"You're hiding something from me." It was spoken so quietly, almost completely emerging from a passing thought. That if Aubrey hadn't been frozen on the spot, they might have ignored it. How'd she known? "Why are you hanging around Brett? You couldn't even stand him, to begin with."
"I miss judged him?" She hadn't meant for her voice to lilt towards the end, turning it into a question.
"You don't sound so sure about that." The redhead sat back, resting her head lightly against the bed's backboard. She consciously avoided turning towards Aubrey. Her eyes glazed past the flashing lights on the TV, ignoring the soft sting her eyes started to produce.
"You dated him, can't be that bad right?"
Chloe gave her a side-eye look. "We also broke up." She had a point.
"True, but you tried to stay friends with him. You might be very forgiving Chlo, but even you have your limits." While the belief may have been well-meaning, the context left a bitter taste in Chloe's mouth. The truth weighed heavily amongst a layer of secrets.
"You're right I am forgiving." She seemed to understand something Aubrey didn't if the look on her face was to go by. Her own head nodded along with her thoughts. "What's going on between you two?"
"We're somewhat friends?" What is she getting at? Chloe tipped her head in disbelief. The wind escaped her sails.
"Just friends?" She was hinting at more. Pushing almost helplessly to that being the right thing to ask. Aubrey's arms started to grasp her head, eager not to do anything out of frustration. Even with her fingers lacing themselves between her golden locks she couldn't bring herself to add any pressure.
"Yes!" She hadn't meant for a half-shouted denial.
The redhead's eyes widened at the abrupt change in tone. "Are you sure about that?" It wasn't confrontational, more of a stilted curiosity.
"What are you getting at Chloe?" Aubrey deadpanned.
"You two are hiding something. Might even have Stacie in on it too." And back to the conspiracy theorist. Is this what it was like to talk to me?
"What are you on about?"
"You're hiding something about them!"
Ice ran through her at that accusation. "Stop!" She had lost all tone with that clipped sentence, not that the other girl noticed in her pursuit.
"What's Brett doing in your home? Shirtless." She started to deteriorate. All semblance of control was thrown out the window as her thoughts started to pour out of her.
"He fought yesterday. Stacie brought him over to patch him up before they went home."
"Wouldn't Professor Mitchell know about his fight anyway?"
Aubrey looked down slightly dejected. "He doesn't like it when Brett loses. He makes Brett… practice more if he does." She tried to hide the hollowness she felt when saying those words.
Chloe deadpanned her face. "But that would be once he heals. He gets to rest in his bed, getting catered for until he is good to take care of himself." She was pushing an accusation into her suggestion, almost not believing it herself.
"No, he would get a day to recover then get back into making sure it didn't happen again." Aubrey sighed. "Look, Stacie was worried about him and called me. Professor Mitchell was marking up some homework, so she asked me because I was nearby." Her body nearly recoiled in an attempt to keep a neutral tone when uttering his name.
"So, why didn't they go back home? If it was just convenience that they messaged you, then why did they stay."
"I told you, Brett wasn't up for the practice that is waiting for him."
"Then why isn't Stacie home? Why do you have Tex, when you told me your parents hated cats? You aren't hostile towards Brett and haven't been for a month. What's going on Bree? Let me in." Both eyes were pleading with the other. Begging for an understanding to reach between them. "Please Bree."
"I can't" While Aubrey was willing to bend the truth to protect confidential information from time to time, staring into the glistening crystal blue puppy eyes almost hurt.
"Why?"
"I promised someone. I can't tell anyone anything."
"Sounds lonely." There was something bitter in her voice. "I seem to remember making a promise too; one with no secrets. Although I made that one with my best friend. It's been a while since I've spent some real time with her though."
"I'm sorry. A lot has been happening recently."
Chloe couldn't stop a sound of pure condescension from forming in her throat. "I wouldn't know though, would I?" It broke the blonde hearing her be so… negative. This wasn't the Chloe she was used to. The bubbly puppy had a smile reserved for everyone. Even Brett after he had ghosted her…
"I'm sorry." She repeated.
"So you've said. I can handle you keeping a secret from me for a while if it was for someone else. I get those, if it isn't yours to tell then don't." Aubrey went to speak but Chloe persisted. "What I can't handle is getting side-lined by you and then getting lied to right to my face. It makes me feel like I'm nothing. Do you know how that feels?" Aubrey's mind flashed back to Warren's threat to her grades. She had been powerless even with all the evidence. She had felt like she was only a pawn to the man, which she technically was.
"Yes."
"And you continually do that to me. I get you keeping their secrets, but what about me? When do I matter?"
"You always matter Chloe." She was desperate. Her body wanted to reach forward and simply smother her with affection until she understood that nothing happening was meant to be malicious towards her.
The girl's body deflated before she could even attempt to. "But not as much recently, right?" Her whole body sunk in on itself. Believing it as if it was the truth.
"There are some things that are more urgent right now." Even she had to wince at the blunt phrasing. "I didn't mean it that way." But the girl was already backing away, her head shakes did nothing but loosen the tears that had risked falling. "Chloe, I did-"
"Let me help you out. I'll take away a distraction for you." Chloe walked towards the door. "Let me know when things clear up." With that, she left.
"Chloe!" Her hands clenched around her hair. "Dammit." She resigned herself to the spot, not even stopping herself from sliding down to the floor.
19.
Aubrey didn't know how long she had remained on the floor. Only that the door hadn't opened back up again, nor had her phone rang. She didn't think it could've gotten worse than the blowout but somehow not having anyone check up on her was souring her already abysmal mood. How hard was it to get some reassurance?
When it reached around dinner time, she started to move. Her stomach had growled loud enough to scare Tex away and she had felt hollow enough that the added lightness in her stomach had been more annoying than worrisome. She didn't know if or when the others would return but she was willing to make the most of her time alone to adjust to the new dynamics.
She was now protecting the boy she once hated and bullied all the while her friendship with his sister started to have a rift all because she was wanting to help him, and her best friend had just run out of there after she snapped the usually preppy girl's spirits with language that was once reserved for her new friend. Life sure was funny.
Reducing herself to eating the leftover food from the refrigerator, Aubrey tried to preserve her dignity with some pure green tea. No burnt leaves in her mug nor were there any added artificial sugars. All organic and handpicked.
It didn't work when paired up with reheated chilli that was as far from authentic that you could get. It had left a bad taste in her mouth that she couldn't get down half of it. Opting to hug her mug towards her as she sat down at the window, perching herself on the cushioned windowsill. A book in her other hand as she tried to hide her worried thoughts. She hadn't checked which book she had selected, not even caring that her eyes scanned over the words instead of engaging with them.
Her mind transformed into that of a maladaptive daydreamer than a hard-working student. She could only focus on every scenario before thinking of another probable outcome. But with each scenario passing, a sense of ease came flowing with it. She knew some outcomes were inevitable, but she also worked out how to change them. Some honesty could ease outcomes. Others needed some more tact while some outcomes were necessary for it all to work. Even with the slight acidic burn that appeared at those, she was more at ease than she had been for a long time.
Even with everything going on, she could tell that someone had returned to the house.
"You know Lizzy, you might have changed a lot since we were kids but there was always something that stayed the same." Her head tilted towards him, not turning around completely from her perch. "You always were an overthinker. I remember when you would sit up at night freaking out that the door was locked. You would always toss and turn before going downstairs to check on it. Then you would check a third time, I think you even made it halfway up the stairs before going back for a fourth time one time."
She continued to stare down at her book. "What does that have to do with anything?"
James chuckled. "You are sitting in front of the window, relaxing. I've been standing long enough to see you flip the pages of your book, you are reading it not just looking busy. You wouldn't be able to do that unless you already thought things through." Aubrey placed the book down completely. He had her attention. "I know you, Aubrey; you always have a plan. What is it?" He took the other side of the bay window. When she turned towards him with a slightly lifted brow, he pointed upwards. "They went to your room. Found them at the library waiting for your signal." She nodded. Sounds like them.
"I didn't know what to do, to begin with. Like you said I panic over the slightest of decisions then they came in with… this and I couldn't let them do that alone. It wouldn't be right." She dragged her knees towards her chest. "So, I started to wonder what would happen if things got bad. Well, worse. I didn't think that I had been dragged too far into it but when I started to truly pay attention to Brett, I realised it was worse than I thought." She looked up at her brother. He nodded his reassurances.
"I had started to look into this with someone, you know Luke?" He nodded again. "Well, we started to investigate into what was happening before Brett pulled the whole boxing card and got Luke off his trail."
Again, James nodded. "But not you."
"But not me." Aubrey agreed. "You watch true crime dramas; the evidence just wasn't right for the story he was telling. So, I continued digging. Confronted him about everything." Aubrey gave a humourless smile. "Even lifted his shirt to prove me right."
"I wish I was surprised."
Aubrey's face contorted into something akin to a toddler's mocking face. "Anyway, I forced him into telling me everything." She seemed to think over her statement again. "Well, some things. He told me less than what he told you. It took me almost getting him killed to get the truth from him, even though that was like pulling teeth out. But it was much worse than what I had thought yet somehow it was glaringly obvious. I had thought that Brett was simply getting hurt at school, I had made him a target, so it wasn't much of a stretch. It had explained a lot; he didn't want me to help, he never mentioned anything to his teacher of a father, and he would always get protective around Stacie. I just thought he was saving her from my wrath." She chuckled mirthlessly.
"I'm not understanding why you're so calm if it didn't go the way you thought it was."
"Because I am an overthinker. I had thought about everyone who would react the first night I nursed his wounds. If things came out, it was three teenagers versus an adult. The odds were stacked against us unless things changed. Our futures would all go up in smoke for trying to 'frame' a teacher. The scandal might bring forward a small amount of attention to stop him from doing anything worse, but..." Aubrey took a deep breath, her eyes closing in the process. She didn't want to think about what could happen then, what still might. "So, I did a few things. Some I am proud of, others not so much. To start I got the cheer team to lay off him, no-one can claim bullying had done it if things had gotten better, it worked because like wildfire, the whole school knew he was off-limits. The only person who ignored it to a degree was Tom. Chloe would keep him in line enough to distract him." The blonde stopped abruptly, her thoughts going down the rabbit hole as she reflected.
"And the ones you're not proud of?" Her brother prodded gently.
"I got proof." She looked toward him, showing no malice with her next words. "I took photographic images that all contain time stamps as irrefutable proof of his injuries." Aubrey looked back outside. "Without Brett's permission." Was uttered so softly that James almost missed it.
James sighed, his head falling into his hands as a way to block his embarrassment. "Aubrey."
"I know, I didn't think about it until it was already done, but by then it was too late."
"Does he know at least?" She kept silent. "He's going to find out you know." That wasn't a question, it was a warning.
"I know. I was just trying to help but then everything that happened, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them. I thought I would be helping them by having them."
"What's your plan, Aubrey?"
"Build a case?" Aubrey smiled sheepishly at him. She seemed so much younger than the exhaustion would let her be.
"How?"
"We get evidence. I have photos, of both Brett and their home. Even if we can't get an abuse charge we might be able to pin it on negligence which gets them out of his care."
"And into the foster system where they can get split up or put in a worse house."
"Or they get emancipated and live on their own without having to worry about Warren."
"With what money?" He countered.
Aubrey turned back to him, her body displaying pure uncertainty. "They could get a job?"
"When all the publicity dies down enough to let them have a generally okay life away from him as they continue school, which they can't afford, to move onto a mediocre job for their day-to-day life."
Aubrey's arms worked their way up to frame her head as she rested them upon her knees. "What do you suggest then?"
"We get Warren to fall into something he can't argue his way out of. Like you said the wounds can all be explained as bullying but the house pics can get labelled as fake or framed. Audio recordings while plausible can get doctored and are an unreliable source of information on their own. Having four kids say their side of things wouldn't be as believable to the court so you're going to need some adult witnesses. Someone respectable to the community, more so than an educator."
The girl's eyes played ping pong with the way they were moving with each thought. "Someone like a mother?" Her face was a contrast to her previous fear.
"Mom might work, but she's not here." His arms lifted to gesture around them.
A look came over the girl, one that grew a sensation of fear in her brother. He hadn't seen that look since they were kids. "What if she was?"
"And how would you do that exactly? She's in Tennessee last I checked." His body leaned forward for an answer.
"You don't need to worry about that, just give me a week and she'll be here." A scheming gleam was etched into her irises now as she worked up enough effort to move from her spot on the windowsill. "Thank you, James." He could feel the shiver crawl its way through his body. This was not going to end well.
James had to watch as each day they went to school, his sister would return with the face of a victor. He could tell that she hadn't included the Mitchells in her scheme. Something he was determining whether it was a good sign or not. But when she came back early with both siblings on either side of her whispering reassurances to her, he was sure that she had finalised her plan. Even with a tear-stained face, her smile of glory was intimidating.
He had tried to put it out of her mind, but it would always emerge at the slightest hesitance she exhibited. But for the group he had decided to let it go, choosing to enjoy the moments they had shared. After all, he had kept Brett's secret so why should he work up a tizzy over hers?
They had started to play a game night just the four of them. He had no idea what would make them decide this was a great bonding exercise, but he was pretty sure someone was going to bite someone's head for real by the end of this. He couldn't even be sure who would do it. But between laughter and shouting they would have moments that seemed to be calculated, almost as if throwing three of the most competitive people in the world into the longest game imaginable would be a bad idea.
James was sure he wasn't hiding his amusement at this fact correctly. Aubrey would always have this perfect poker face that would remain calm during one of the other's loud accusations of cheating as she stole their hotels. Whereas Stacie seemed to be playing the more subtle cheaters game, the casual rolls that were a touch too weak to not try and fix her chances at getting the right number she needed. While Brett was just chaotic when playing games, his entire strategy was hopeful thinking and accusations. Half the time there wasn't even a base for his thoughts, hell he could probably win by confusing the others into submission.
"Aubrey Jane Posen!" reverberated its way around the house towards the girl's bedroom. Each person within halted in their laughter. Even James' light-hearted teasing gave way to concern as the girl in question paled at the voice.
Who was that? Brett looked toward the blonde as she started to stand up. Not even speaking an explanation as she left. The Mitchell siblings turned towards the other boy searching for an answer.
"Mom's home." That was all that was said. He looked after his sister wondering if this was a part of her plan. From her face, it wasn't.
20.
The Blonde had never understood an expression that would come up when she was reading. But seeing the look on her mother's face truly made her stomach drop. A hollow pit took its place causing her throat to tighten as a way to preserve what was left. She hated it.
"You're home early mom." Even by the calculations.
"Of course, I am! I got a very concerning message from one of your teachers about possible plagiarism. I had told him that it couldn't possibly be true. That my darling baby would never do anything that way, but he insisted. Do you know how humiliating it is to have to argue over the phone about your own child's integrity?" Aubrey knew she wasn't supposed to answer. That it would only at fuel to the fire but she couldn't help herself from defending her reputation.
"It was Professor Mitchell, wasn't it?" Her mother's brown eyes bore into her as if she had confessed to murdering.
"So, it's true? My baby's a thief!" There was a level of indignation that seemed almost unfair considering the circumstances.
"No, ma. He had brought up his concerns, but I provided him with proof of my research. He even acknowledged that they were accurate to the text we were working on. I didn't tell you because I thought that I had cleared everything up."
"Why didn't he mention this to me?"
"I don't know." What angle was he working here? He couldn't get far with false accusations alone.
"I have a conference with him tomorrow to discuss this. I would very much like to understand what I will be walking into."
"Of course, mama. I can get you a copy of my notes if you would like?"
"Please." With that, her mother walked to the kitchen. Aubrey headed towards her bedroom for the notes. Her mind ran a mile per minute. Even if he mentioned that she had started to come out from under his thumb, it had to be serious for him to even bring her mother into things. He was starting to feel threatened.
"Mom's home." Was uttered in lew of everything as she wandered across to her rucksack. Her fingers scanned each folder before coming across an unassuming manilla paper flip-over Stacie watched as her friend stared blankly at the folder in her hands. "Do you need any help?" She kept her voice low to prevent any startled recoil. This was more than expected. The blonde looked at her through her fallen locks of gold.
"I've got this, you just make sure Rocky over there stays seated until I get back." Brett let out a sound of indignation as she left the room.
The flimsy cover was as firm as any hardcover when she slid it over to the only adult in the room. "This is everything I've worked on. You can keep this copy if you'd like, I've got it saved on my laptop." Her fingers lingered only long enough to give it one last tap upon it before curling around the waiting mug. The heat calmed the chill that filtered throughout her.
Her mother moved to open the folder, flicking through the pages with expert manoeuvrability, barely reading anything that wasn't highlighted or underlined. Her smile tilted upwards at each flip of the page. "You always were thorough Kitten."
"I learned from the best."
"Don't let your father hear you say that. His ego's already big enough."
Aubrey smiled her agreement. They had never been a family of long conversations. Terms of endearment supplemented with 'I love you' and silent gestures would switch out the typical family day out.
"What's going to happen tomorrow?"
"I'll do what any good lawyer would; I'll display the evidence," She lifted the folder slightly in her fingers. "and tell him the story you will tell me happened."
"What if I was lying?"
"Then you would have to have a good reason for it. I know you kitten; you are many things and even in your… bitchier moments you always stood your ground." Mrs Posen laughed at the affronted expression on her daughter's face. "Even if you did cheat, you did your research afterwards, but I wouldn't do it again if you did."
"Yes, mother."
"You want to tell me what happened?"
"I can't tell you everything." Her mother looked towards her, wishing to ask more but resigned herself when her daughter's eyes sparkled with apprehension. She reached forward to grasp Aubrey's hands in her own.
"Then tell me what you can." And so, Aubrey started to spin a tale.
Professor Mitchell was sitting idly at his desk watching the clock tick away. Every stack of paper sat rigidly in its piles, each with clear markings and notes littered on the pages. With each tick the clock produced his eyes would follow the hand around the clock face until finally, the long hand snapped towards the three, it was time.
Just like he expected the door was knocked on three times before he uttered permission to enter. He watched as a statuesque blonde entered with purpose. Her purse sat precariously by her side as her otherwise well-kept apparel worked hard to make her seem professional. Unlike the other parents he had seen for meetings, she was the one that gave off an air of authenticity about it.
Even with his otherwise empty schedule, the professor looked down at his planner. "Mrs Posen, I presume?" She was, after all, the only person he had expected to see.
Her piercing green eyes opened slightly with acknowledgement. All she uttered was, "We did have an appointment." before coming to a halt near the two chairs sitting by his desk. He gestured for her to sit down as he resorted to his position. She grudgingly laced her handbag over the back support before lowering herself onto the misshapen plastic.
His eyes widened minutely before resting on hers, his throat seemed to have gotten caught in the air as he coughed slightly to himself. "That we do. As I mentioned in my email, I am a bit worried for your daughter at the moment."
"Yes, the cheating." She uttered before crossing her legs, her heels pointing towards the desk. Keeping a loose target on the man.
"I know that as a parent you wouldn't want to think she could be capable of doing this, I would be the same if this was my daughter." The teacher reached into his desk drawer, lifting out a pile of papers the top page streaming with yellow highlights. He cuts the pile in half. "This here is your daughter's work." He slid the top half over, leaving it on the desk. "Whereas this is a mixture of previous years' on the same topic." He placed the pile next to the other, allowing the page to be compared at a single glance.
Mrs Posen leaned forward, taking in the choppy layout of the second pile, clearly cut and pasted from his previous students' work. There was no context over what or where it was supposed to correspond in her daughter's work. She flipped the pages as the man continued to speak.
"Unfortunately, she didn't hand over any 'research' she did, and there were far too many similarities for it to be purely a coincidence. I was hoping that it was just a misunderstanding, but it just got worse the more I went through it." The blonde only gave him half her attention. The so-called similarities were so far far-fetched that only someone with a passing skill in English could call them identical.
Nonetheless, she was forced to give him the benefit of the doubt. "While I will admit there were sentences that were strung together partially the same way, how would she get her hands on these works that your students have done? It would be unlikely to find these just by scrolling through the internet."
The man ducked his head sheepishly, if it weren't for the slight annoyance in his eyes, it would be believable. "That would be my fault, I printed a few off as an example for their format in an essay."
"So, you gave high schoolers pre-written exam papers that you considered excellent to learn from and weren't expecting them to copy some aspects of?" A single brow rose.
"Well, yes, when phrased like that it seems like an obvious thing to happen."
She rested her elbows on her knees, and each finger on her left hand remained in a poorly disguised fist hanging by her side as she gestured with her other hand for his attention. "Did anyone else in the classroom fall into the same problem?" Her arm was reminiscent of that of a politician's.
His eyes flittered away for a moment. "A few of the more athletically inclined seemed to have taken the same route." He nodded along to confirm his own story.
"But you singled out my daughter?" She let him stutter over a few words before taking pity on him. "I know for a fact that my daughter had done her research, and while there may be very vague similarities between some wordings that could simply be subconsciously done.
"And before you even say that it was all those on the sports teams that were guilty of this, did you stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, they could have studied and helped each other on this? They all have practice at the end of a school day after all. It would give them enough time to work on it between different exercises."
"This would still be considered plagiarism in the final exam. She could get disqualified unless she gave evidence that this was her points that she researched, which I had asked for but was not provided with."
The parent kept eye contact as she reached into the purse at her side, sliding out a manilla flip over the folder. "Like this?" She gave him the folder as she watched his jaw pulsed with tension. He flipped through, his eyes skimming over the words like it was a sick sense of Déjà vu. "My daughter's not a cheat, but I will speak to her about the wording in her sentences." She swiped up the piles that sat on the desk as well as Aubrey's folder. "If that's all, I will be leaving." She ignored the man's protests as she walked out the door. "Thank you for your time." Ever a woman with manners.
Aubrey's mother spent five minutes in her car outside her house. She had gone over the meeting in her head as well as her daughter's words the night before. While she was all for independence among kids, this seemed more than a simple squabble with a teacher that she was led to believe. She had seen first-hand that man's face contort to gain sympathy when she wasn't falling for his tales completely. A hateful teacher would have just snapped, claiming the child was a menace or incompetent at learning; this man was acting, placing up a façade so that she would believe his tale of woe.
But between the melodrama playing in her head, she watched through the window as her daughter's typically serious or judgemental face lit up in a full belly laugh. Her face was red from exertion to regain her breath and the two people around her were laughing harder as they watched her struggle for air. She had met Stacie before, the girl was charismatic, but this was the first time she was completely relaxed in her skin. While before she could be carefree, it had always seemed like there was something warring within her mind, refraining from fully giving in. Seeing the boy beside her, it seemed that it had been cleared up. His face wasn't as scarlet, and his laugh had died off after three chuckles, but his smile was that of pride as he took in the atmosphere around them. While his smile would grow while looking at her daughter, his eyes would always linger on Stacie, looking at her for reassurance.
She had missed seeing Aubrey so carefree. The closest she had gotten since was whenever the redhead, Chloe, was brought over but even then, it was few and far between that she was away from work long enough to witness it. The thought brought an end to her simple smile. There were only a few things in life she regretted, and being there for her family was high on that list. Sure, she would try to make it home for the holidays or special occasions but there was no way to reschedule half of her appointments. Her clients needed her. And from a young age, Aubrey would always say that it was alright...
Annabeth expelled a breath. This wasn't the way today was supposed to go. She was going to go to the school, explain to her daughter and let that be. But she couldn't help but noticed the clear thoughts that the teacher had for her daughter. Something felt off. She took one last look at the kids before leaving the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Her heels for the first time in decades felt uneven when she walked. The small wobbles in her legs continued down her path.
Even if she wanted to, she couldn't help her feet dragging slightly on the floor. Practised precision could only get you so far but her shield collapsed slightly when at home. Once her kids reached a certain age she found they were far more conscious of her exhaustion than they once were.
"Want to tell me why he has it out for you?" Mrs Posen raised a hand upwards like she was trying to wave an idea into her mind. "I know you said he had it out for you but this-" She gestured towards the files. "- this seems more premeditated than anything a mild grudge would produce." Aubrey walked towards the folder she had stolen from Warren. While many things crossed the younger girl's face, surprise only spawned for a singular moment. Whatever was happening to her, the fact that a teacher would go to these lengths made sense to her. With bated breath, she asked the question she wish she never would have to.
"Is-" Another breath. "Is he taking advantage of you?" Her voice shook and her breath caught itself in her throat.
Blue eyes snapped towards her. "What! No! Gross. Why would you even say that?" The elder woman had to hold in her sigh of disbelieving at the level of indignation in her voice. Her hand never left its place on her throat. She could feel a level of sickness from this path of questioning was going to bring her.
"Your teacher is trying to tarnish your future. Why would he do that if you didn't know something you shouldn't?" She almost wanted to take back her phrasing, but it seemed to break down something within her daughter. She had hit the nail on the head there.
Aubrey's shoulders slumped inward. Conflict warred within as her hands pulsed into fists. "It's complicated mom." Her fingers danced along her side.
"Then uncomplicate it. Tell me something. Tell me anything." She had never thought that she would have to beg her daughter past her baby days. Shockingly, begging your daughter to not be affected by a predator wasn't the same as wishing her to eat carrots.
"He's our father." She looked toward the cheerleader. "That's why he's after her. He's hurting her to get to us." Stacie seemed framed behind her brother. One hand holding onto his shoulder, the other playing with the hem of her shirt. The ruby material frayed slightly under the attention.
But her answer had stumped the mother. She couldn't fathom why a parent would punish a child based on their friends unless they were bad examples. From what she had witnessed, they were mild-mannered, if a little shy, but well-behaved kids. Which would leave him blaming Aubrey, who was a straight-A, head cheerleader. It didn't add up. "Why?"
"You don't have to " Aubrey started. But Stacie paid her no mind.
"Yes, we do. You have let us stay here, and we love you for it, but she's worried for you." Stacie turned her attention to the matriarch. "Aubrey's been allowing us to stay here. Wa- Dad found out and gave her an ultimatum; Force us back home or fail. She chose us."
Mrs Posen stopped talking. Her mind worked over the last few sentences on overdrive. Her daughter was protecting these kids from their father, who was bad enough to fail a student on that premise alone. She had been warned about this outcome enough that she had a folder based solely on the project that got her a meeting with the man. And despite everything, she was willing to give up her future for this cause which meant one thing; something horrible was happening in their home life. Something bad enough that these repercussions were deemed worthy of receiving.
"I need you to go back home, I need you out of this house." Her voice felt hollow. She couldn't muster enough energy to even sound a fragment of how apologetic she felt. Her entire body was so heavy that it was only with partial numbness that she could lift her hand to her head to try and rub out the wrinkles. Her stomach felt hollow, every inch of her rejected the thought of throwing innocents into the line of fire, but she had to think of her home. Her kids. Her responsibility.
"Mom, you can't do this! You don't know the whole story." She knew her voice was getting too loud, too high-pitched to get anything positive in return, but her emotions were controlling her at the moment.
"All I am asking is for some space. My daughter is being threatened by her teacher and it's their fault. No offence." She directed the last sentence towards the siblings, seeing them cringe at the thought. She reached forward to caress Aubrey's face. Tears swam in her eyes. "I am worried for you. And I know you want to protect them, but I want to protect my baby."
"But I am not your baby anymore." While the words would be indignant, her tone was low, almost sad to mention this fact. "You can't protect me from every problem that comes my way. I'm 17 now, I am capable to make my decisions and paying the price knowing what will come from it."
"I know you can, and I know you want to, but this is still my house. And I can't let this continue here. You can make your own decisions, but it won't be here." She turned towards Brett. "I won't force you to go back there. I won't, but you can't stay here. I can't risk my little girl." The boy nodded mutely before turning and pulling his sister along with him. The soft thumps and mumbled voices took them upstairs.
"You don't know what they're going through. You can't do this."
"You're right, I don't know what they are going through. But I do know what it's doing to you. They seem like great kids, and if you are sticking your neck out for them then it must be something serious. But I know you have other people that you can call for them to stay with. You have an entire cheer team that waits on you hand and foot, surely there is someone who will take them that doesn't put you in danger." A singular tear broke free from their eyes. "I am sorry for them, and I will help how I can, but I need you to be safe. I will give you until ten o'clock to figure out sleeping arrangements, and I will see them there myself if you want me to, but I can't give you any longer than that." With that, she walked out of the room, allowing herself to breathe out from exhaustion. Every fibre of her being wanted to reassure Aubrey that everything would be okay, that she would fix anything that came from this. But nothing she could say would fill a promise, they would simply be empty words falling on deaf ears. She was left with the pain of no reassurance. Of being the bad guy, the villain in this side of their story. Her shoulders were wracked with guilt. Only the soft pine of her door stopped the house from hearing her. Even as she rested against it.
21.
They hadn't meant for it to be this way. They were supposed to have hidden away with very little contact with the outside world, only coming up for air when the times demanded it. They had been a unit, undivided in their tasks, only in the ways they were to go about things. But nowhere they were, standing frozen at the door about to ask the person that had inadvertently taken the brunt of their actions without knowing why. They were assholes. All because they knew she would. She was the person they could count on the most, she was the person who would be willing to put her feelings on the back burner so that they could find sanctuary for the night. Even if she was the last person they had tried to contact they still felt the weight of the decision they were about to make.
Brett was starting to wish that he
"I know we are the last people you would want to see just now, but we must ask, can we please stay the night?"
"Why can't you guys stay at your place?"
"I fought with mom. I don't want to say something I'll regret. I need a night to calm down." Chloe's eyes lingered over the other two for a moment, almost expectantly but they wouldn't speak.
Brett's silence wasn't so much of a problem as the boy swayed on his feet, his exhaustion could be felt from where she was standing. His eyes drooped further into the floor than his eyes were locked onto. Stacie, on the other hand, stood to his side, angled slightly behind him. She could see they had a hand locked together with a quick almost pulsing reassuring rhythm to each other. Chloe sighed at the image and turned her attention back to her friend. "I want answers."
The redhead could feel a glare embed itself into her soul but paid little attention to it other than a slight adjustment to her cardigan in an attempt to work the shiver into something more casual. "Deal."
"Wha-"
"Deal." Brett agreed with Aubrey, ignoring the way Stacie looked at him. He didn't mind so much being in a disagreement with her but the heartbreak that would be displayed in her eyes made the ground suddenly more appealing than it once was. Even the fact that her hand had not left him did little to provide a reprieve from it.
Chloe took one last look at the trio before shuffling towards the side, holding the door open wider in invitation. "Come on in." Once everybody had walked into the premises Chloe couldn't help the minute scan she did of the street. But all that met her was the vacant dark road and the abandoned sidewalk. Even with the pods of light that came down from the lamps, it still held nothing more than the typical night. "You can take them up to my room, I need to grab some extra blankets for everybody." She didn't even wait for a response as she brushed past them to the kitchen.
She barely paid attention to the sounds of them moving throughout her house. She slumped against the countertop as tears made themselves known to her. Her head tilted back as she prayed they would not fall, no amount of burning would distract her from the task at hand. If she let them fall now, they would never stop. Her hands brushed violently at her eyes, reddening the skin further than was normal with rosy cheeks. Each brush became more violent, more forceful until her emotions caught up with them. Every movement of her arm waved more anger into her head.
She couldn't contain it until she moved to swing the cupboard door open, she had no reason to hide in a room if there was no one loitering outside it. She grasped hold of the first pile of blankets she could, subconsciously drying her hands with the material, and took them upstairs. With one last sigh, she kicked the door open slightly, thankful that the door was left ajar.
The sight that welcomed her wasn't one she was expecting. Yes, Brett had been exhausted and Stacie hadn't left his side but she was expecting some diversity in their poses. Instead, Stacie was hunkered in the corner with Brett by her side, allowing her to use his shoulder as a pillow. Neither of them spoke above a hushed whisper. Whereas Stacie's head left her gaze fixed elsewhere, Brett couldn't keep his in one place. Each second had his head rotating to take in another aspect of her room. Every so often something would require a double-take that had his lips raising slightly in a nostalgic grin. It was oddly disarming.
Aubrey was stuck in a trance towards her roof. Her eyes skimmed the pattern that the brush had left behind but never acknowledged any other parts of her surroundings. Walking closer, Chloe could tell that Aubrey was in a world of her own; the typically by-the-book had now become a maladaptive daydreamer from the looks of things. Chloe should be relieved that she was making things light but there was a hint of something dark hidden beneath her features. The redhead dropped the blankets onto the bed, uncaring if they fell neatly.
"Do you want to get comfortable or shall we have that conversation just now?" Not knowing what to do with her hands Chloe placed them on her hips. Just like a superhero, she thought with mirth.
Brett felt the fabric of his shirt tighten its way around his bandages. While they helped to keep him secure they had a terrible habit of catching onto the fabric of his clothes. "I'd like to get changed." He spoke with a slight distortion of his lips.
"How about we don't have this talk?" Stacie's scowl translated into her remark.
"Same." Aubrey pointed towards Brett. "I'll help if you want?"
Before Brett could give his answer Stacie hushed her shout for them to hear. "Why should we? Chloe doesn't need to know this. It's not her problem." The girl's face focused on her brother's as a mild beg. For what though?
He couldn't stop the confusion from contorting its way into his being. "What's gotten into you? You've wanted people to know for a while, now you're getting cold feet?" He was genuinely surprised enough to stand up for a better look at her.
She gave a mildly hysterical hand flick. "What's gotten into me? You have turned me down every chance you got. We could have avoided all of this if you just listened. But as soon as someone bats their eyelashes in your direction, you change your mind. What happened to you, Brett? I thought we were a team." Her voice was breaking with each passing moment. She was pleading with him. Please. Explain.
"We are a team. It's just expanding that's all." Brett wrapped his arms around his sister, not caring at her wriggling attempts to free herself. "I love you Stace, and I would do almost anything for you. And I am sorry that it has taken me so long to realise that you were right but now is the time. We have people in our corner that are willing to fight for us. That was something we didn't have before." His voice was reduced to a soft tomber. Whispering the words once he was close enough for her to hear him. Even if it meant he had to hunch over to be at ear level with her. His body forms a barrier against the world around her. Their brand of armour.
"But why now?" She stifled out.
"Because it's real now. And I was a coward before. I didn't want to admit something was wrong. I was scared, Stace." Tears started to drown his throat. "I did this, and I'm so sorry." Their bodies were wracked together. Their grief uniting as one.
"What are we going to do, Brett?"
"What we have to." Brett's arms locked themselves around her. "We can't stay here forever, Aubrey might be able to convince Mrs Posen to let us stay a night here and there but." His throat tightened at his next words. "But we might need to speak with Warren."
Almost instantly Stacie started to react, her arms gently pushing his away from her. Every aspect that once echoed her distress was replaced with irritation. Brett's eyes closed as he was forced to take a step back before she started to speak to him. Her head latched onto him, almost searching for some sort of tell that this was a sick joke on his part. Even with her legs wobbling under her sudden lurch upright, her voice was as strong and loud with disbelief as it had always been. "You cannot be serious!" I wish I was.
"It's not ideal-"
"Not ideal? Not ideal is being held up in your ex's house after being kicked out. Not ideal is the fact that we are homeless. Speaking with him? That's suicide and you know it."
"Not for you it's not." A moment of silence passed between them before her hands came up to beat at his chest.
"God, will you stop with this hero complex you're developing!" She hissed. I can't lose you. "I need you Brett, and you can't be here if you're dead in a ditch due to some stupid perception you have of yourself. We need you alive and with us." With me.
"But-"
"No! You have already gotten hurt so many times for all of us. Not once have you actually stopped long enough to let us help you." Stacie stopped him with a look. "Don't even say it. You have tried to take everything on by yourself, only letting us intervene in certain aspects when you can't even move. So, let me help. You'll let Aubrey step in to intervene but not me. I've been here since the start but you won't let me do anything more than dressing your wounds. Why?"
Brett's mouth flexed in thought. Different excuses feeling wrong to vocalise. "Because I love you. You are my responsibility."
And you're mine. "I can take care of myself, Brett."
"You shouldn't have to."
Stacie dragged his face to focus on hers, her bloodshot eyes swimming with desperation. "Nor should you." Her body wrapped around his in a tight embrace. "She can get us out of this. We don't need him."
His arms followed her example and held her close. "We'll find a way," I promise.
They stayed in each other's arms for as long as they could, only stepping back when the bedroom door opened forcefully. Chloe strutted her way into the room, paying Aubrey no attention as she slowly trailed behind her.
She continued past them, only slowing slightly before resuming her course. The siblings finally part completely in the situation.
Her hands reached towards her movies, the small shelf hung between her wardrobe and her bedroom door. She skimmed mindlessly at the case covers, her fingers floating from title to title before she reached the cheesiest comedy she could find. She barely looked at the blonde when she reemerged to take her other side on the bed.
"What's happening?" Stacie rubbed her eyes. The red rims accentuate their colour in a horrifically beautiful way.
"What does it look like? We are going to have a movie marathon." Chloe replied with more pep than needed.
Neither of the siblings commented although a look was shared, and they took up their perch on the bed. Brett let Stacie take refuge in the rapidly depleting space as he sat precariously on the edge. One wrong sneeze and he would be evicted.
No one spoke throughout the movie, nor did anyone dare to move. The peaceful tranquillity was as fragile as the silence between them.
22.
Aubrey was, unsurprisingly, the first one to wake up. Even at peak exhaustion the body clock she had honed still kicked in. Even with the natural wake-up call, her eyes were painted with sleep delirium. The pink walls provided nothing to her whereabouts but confusion. Her first few attempts to move were thwarted by the heaviness she felt around her. It wasn't so much a deep-seated ten-pound of pressure, more of an exterior if by the third attempt her eyes opened enough to gather the appearance of red over her chest. Her head tilted to the other side and saw chestnut.
Her efforts were in vain and eventually, her head fell back against the bed. Her eyes locked themselves back onto the ceiling she had spent a few hours studying the night before. From the texture to the line depth, the thought was placatingly relaxing. After the third skim over, her eyes started to droop. The heaviness lowered them until finally they were securely shut. Her breathing slowed and the weight on her chest became nothing but a weighted blanket in her thoughts.
Brett, unluckily, was the next one to wake up. He managed not to jolt the bed as he awkwardly shuffled his way from the pile in the centre of the bed. Instead, he was partially thankful he was towards the end, although one bad roll and it would be a painful reminder of why mattresses were better, it did allow fewer eyes on him leaving. He gently laid a small throw cover over the three ladies before wandering his way into the bathroom.
He didn't waste time showering. Choosing to simply wash his face and slip into comfortable casual clothes. No need to dress, so long as the majority of things are covered all should be good. A set of joggers and a simple hoodie worked wonders until they would need to leave the house. Or meet the parents. The thought stopped him short. He looked back over his clothing choice. He hadn't even had a chance to zip up the hoodie before he had thought that.
His reflection betrayed him. The mirror did nothing to reassure him, they were doing the right choice. His bandages weren't needed at this point, so all that remained on his torso were bruises that covered the entire spectrum of the rainbow. He could handle the more brownish, yellowy ones, he could simply pretend he had fallen off the bed. That the prominence in the lower areas of his ribs was simply from landing on something. It was the purpling blue that haunted his vision. They were exposed across his chest. The span of which was stretching towards his collarbones like an emblem. Instead of Superman, he was Destructoboy.
His eyes fell shut but the image remained. The universe has a sick sense of humour. Here he was stuck in the same situation that he had tried to avoid during the summer. He was hurting Chloe again, just in a different way. They shouldn't have come here. It was cruel.
Tap. Tap. Tap. A soft knocking got his head to lift back up, his eyes glaring at the timber frame through the mirror. He pushed himself off the sink towards the door. His arms swinging beside him. Only when he reached the door did he try to right his hair, one hand through did little to tame the bird's nest but it was enough to flatten it towards his scalp. The grease helping at the moment. He pulled the door open gently to avoid any unnecessary noises.
Chloe smiled at the head that emerged out of the room. Her eyes were on him, but they never truly landed on his own. "Sorry, I was wondering if I could.." Her voice tapered off as she loosely gestured with her head towards the door.
"Oh, right. Let me just grab my clothes." His head went back into the room but the door remained open. Chloe's eyes followed behind him. "Hey, Brett?"
"Yeah?"
"I, um, I'm here for you okay?" Her lips looked pinched as she tried to smile reassuringly at him. There was more she was wishing to say.
"I appreciate that, thank you." Brett smiled awkwardly as he shuffled past her.
"Course." The door shut with a soft click behind her. Brett couldn't stop himself from releasing a breath. They really were in Chloe's house. He'd never thought that being trapped in the girl's house would affect him so much. It was one thing to know you were to stay the night at your ex's house, it was another to absorb that fact. His heart paced faster and his hands had an almost constant film of sweat upon them.
"This is going to be awkward." He muttered to himself.
Neither of them spoke to the other, only sharing looks. Both are too focused on righting their thoughts than starting a conversation in the same room as their friends. Only when Chloe nodded meaningfully with her head towards the door did they leave the others.
"What did she tell you?" Chloe looked at him before he expanded his question. "Aubrey, you guys spoke last night, didn't you?"
Brett followed closely behind her as she lead the way down the stairs. Her voice was an even level, careful enough for eavesdroppers, but not shameful of the subject matter. "Yeah, she didn't say much. Just that you guys were kicked out of her house, she wanted to cool down before she said something she regretted to her mom." It was a normal conversation. Nothing like...
Brett froze on the last step. "That's it?" There was a deal. Chloe never hid from honesty.
Chloe turned yet again. Her head tilted as her arms reached out to brace herself on the doorframe around her. Her body swayed, almost fidgeting with gravity. "Well, she did say something about breaking a rib?" Brett's arm wrapped around himself, the phantom pain too indelible.
"Yeah, that wasn't a fun day." He mumbled.
Chloe's hands tapped the wooden frame as she forced herself still. "Want some coffee?" So nonchalantly spoken that Brett felt himself feel lighter. Never one for awkwardness.
"I would love a mug." His voice was airy.
"Perfect." She spun on the spot, her hair whipping with her as she left for the kitchen. He could only make it the edges of a small smile as she did so. His eyes tracked behind her. Taking in the exaggerated sway of her hips, the way she bounced- Brett jerked his head. Not the time, the place and definitely the circumstances. She wasn't his girl anymore... Heat radiated through his cheeks, his eyes fluttering to the floor in concentration. Get a hold of yourself.
His feet shuffled himself back in step with Chloe. Her movements were fluid as she flitted her way around the kitchen. One arm reached the mug holder while the other worked to reload the machine. She never could make herself one with instant. The sun streaming in only highlighted her ethereal aura. The light bounced from all surfaces. The white cabinets seemed to glow under the attention.
Once she was confident the rich nectar was pouring correctly she let herself turn her attention towards her guest. "I don't want to rush you, but I need something to keep myself sane." She locked her arms over her chest. Hugging her arms. "Aubrey's story- it was confusing and filled with so many logic jumps I got vertigo."
"What has she told you?"
"As I said; You were kicked out of her house, and somehow you wouldn't go home leading you here before she got in more trouble. That you started to stay with her after she hugged you hard enough she broke a rib." Even her face scrunched up with confusion, he couldn't blame her, it wouldn't make much sense without all the context. "And that you are now friends because you let yourself be the bad guy to me?" A small beep let her turn towards the coffee machine. "Did I miss anything?" Her voice wavered with an edge to it.
"Yeah..." His entire being was downtrodden. This was not going to be an easy conversation. He was glad when a mug found its way into his hands. His fingers tapped against the heated confines, and even as the tension built, he never unclasped completely. "She saved us, me." His lips twitched with a grimace. "I got hurt, badly, and she came to get us right away. Let us stay in her room until I was healed enough to go to school... even afterwards." He could feel gravity try to pull him down. Each word pushed him further into a trance. The chair beside him was the only thing that support him.
"Why didn't you go to the hospital, Brett?"
"I thought it would bring more problems. I've learned that it might have been easier to explain if I had now." He forced himself to take a breath. "Aubrey blamed herself for it. I think she still does."
"She does." Brett looked at her for confirmation. "It was the night we all hang out last, right?" He simply nodded. "She mentioned something about guilt last night. About how she couldn't leave because of it." She was staying because of it... Brett's head fell into his hands. How could he be so blind? He had dragged her into this. Pinned their survival on her. All she had done since was because of him. He had forced her hand. Played with that guilt and now destroye-
"Don't do that." Chloe had sat at the island in front of his perch. Her hands inching towards his arms, hesitant. "You can't spiral, okay." Her eyebrows raised in concern.
"It's my fault."
"How? You were injured. She had come to collect you. She let you stay with her. And we both know that Aubrey is not the type of person to let you overstay your welcome. If she let you stay so long then you were wanted, Brett." Chloe tilted her head closer. "I might not know all that is happening but I do know my friends. I know her just as well as I knew you. And they are my favourite people." When she saw he had finally settled enough to drink his coffee, she sat back in her chair, smirking into her mug. "Even if you both have major socialising problems."
"Hey!" Brett let a smile flash on his face.
"What, you know it's true."
"Doesn't mean you can say it out loud though." He decided to exaggerate a petulant toddler huff. "Might hurt my feelings."
She shuffled forward in her seat. Her voice goes babyish as she reaches to pinch his cheek. "Aww, I'm sorry. Will you ever forgive me?"
His chest raises a foot before releasing the breath he had in a sigh. "Suppose so."
"Yay!" She goes for one last pinch before a fake cough interrupts them. Neither body moved but both heads turned towards the culprit. Both Aubrey and Stacie stood in the doorway. Only Aubrey's fist was held in front of her mouth. "Having fun there?"
Chloe's smile grew further and cemented itself to the pinch. "Oh totes, have you seen this baby face." Her voice remained babified yet seemed more comical than the previous attempt.
Aubrey seemed to put on a show of thinking as she made her way towards them. "He is pretty cute, in an annoying type of way." She teased, cooing when his face bloomed red.
"Got all the girls after you, Brett." Stacie patted his shoulder as she reached for some water. "Nice going." Finishing it off with a ruffle of his hair.
"Stop it." He mumbled his face somehow turning a darker shade.
"Aww." All three joined in, much to his embarrassment.
"You know what, I don't need to get ganged up on. I'm going to get changed into something more..." His voice trailed off, his words failing to come to mind. Only the wide smile on his face gave away the lack of truth in his objection.
Brett stared at the scene before him. While he had been jealous in the past because of this, his heart was filled with something else this time. A chilling motivation surged its way throughout his body. A soft chill took permanent residence within him. He took in the way his sister's face lit up with laughter, or the brightness in Chloe's eyes, even the softer smile that remained on the Aubrey Posen instead of her head cheerleader snide. Where he should have been elated at the elevated atmosphere, there was nothing but discontent and fear.
It should have always been like this. He had condemned the people with his presence, and they would never stay this way. There would always be a threat to them and anything they cared for. He needed to save them, he just didn't know how. They wouldn't let him do the necessary things. Nor would he be able to desert them. There were a lot of ways to get the desired results, but hardly any would be logical, some may have undesirable consequences and almost all of them would result in pain in one way or another.
23.
Brett woke up the next day with determination brewing within him. He might not be the smartest person in the room but he was one of the more unswervable of the lot. Stubbornness did run in the family after all. His eyes flittered across the bed, both Chloe and Aubrey were wrapped up around his sister. Neither was willing to let the girl take the floor as she had suggested. Although it might be contagious.
The pillows scattered with strewn hair made only comfortable with the two cheerleaders getting used as well padded pillows by the brunette. Her body occasionally snuggles closer to Chloe's unconsciously. She looks so relaxed. Brett hovered long enough to carefully tuck the blanket further up their bodies before tiptoeing out the door. Sparing only a single glance at the slumbering bodies.
I love you.
He hadn't dressed himself to the sevens, never mind to the nines, but school wasn't supposed to be a fashion show. He was thankful for that. He could barely remember the last time he was allowed to wear an actual t-shirt. Every time he had attempted it in the last month, either Stacie or Aubrey would insist that a button-up would be more comfortable. Which it was. But he would never try to admit that out loud. Those girls could gloat until the cows came home. He was glad that he chose to wear a t-shirt today, the material hung to him in a comforting bind. A sense of normalcy.
Brett reached the bottom of the stairs when his stomach plunged, he chanced one last look up the stairs, his heartbeat in his ears. His eyes clenched with weariness before he huffed out a breath. He had to do this. One last step and he was completely on the ground floor. His stomach doing flips and his throat going dry. He turned towards the front door, the world blurring around him. Not quite tunnel vision, the image of the door had pulsed in and out of focus while he took a step backwards, falling down the stairs. His mind was only partially aware he was glad he was facing backwards to them, letting him sit carefully a few steps up as he tried to seize his breath. His hands clenching and easing in his lap has his features tensed. His limbs tingled, his feet felt like ice blocks, and all the while the world spun around him. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Too loud. You're too loud. Too dramatic. Too much. Shut up! Shut up!
He wasn't sure how long he was sitting there. His chest hurt and his hands had started to cramp from all the movement. He could feel his lungs vibrating from his attempts to ease his breathing down to something more regular. His hands still shook but his shock was easing up enough to let him feel the extent of his hesitation. He could feel the tether wishing him to remain indoors. Away from danger. Away from people. Safe in bed. Safe with friends. Yet he still pushed himself to stand on uneven legs. His body feels seasick while doing so.
His body lumbered its way into the kitchen, attaching itself to each secure structure as he passed it. His mind memorised the noise level he was creating. A crash here, a nudge there. the soft thud of his hands against the marble countertop was nothing in comparison to his heavy footsteps. His hands wouldn't attempt to open any cabinet door, let alone trust himself with fragile glass. He instead reached towards the tap. Glad that it was tall enough that he could stick his head underneath. Relishing in the chill of the water flow.
"What do you think you're doing?" He hastily pulled his head out from the sink. Using the tea towel beside him to allow him a sense of decency. There Aubrey was, leaning in the middle of the doorway, arms crossed and her expression matching that.
"Going to school?" He spoke noncommittally as if that was perfectly normal an hour early on a Monday morning.
"You Brett, are plotting something. I want to know what."
"What makes you say that?"
"You don't need to go to school, you need rest. You could hardly move this time last week and the only way we got you out was by dumb luck." Aubrey took a step forwards, ignoring the technical points that would be suspicious on any other day. "So, what are you planning?"
He met her gaze evenly. "I want to end this. End it all, for everyone. I can't keep hurting them."
"You're. Not." She punctuated each word to drill it into his thick skull.
"But I am!" His tears broke free, his hands clenched at his side, desperately searching for something to cling to. Redness started to consume the soft blue striking a violent string of veins to take over. His eyebrows drooped and his chin wobbled as he struggled to keep his voice steady. "They, you, are all in trouble because of me. I could have stopped this ages ago. Saved you the trouble, the threats. I should have stayed away from Chloe, and helped Stacie away from the basement. Stopped you from risking your future for some kid that couldn't even fight back. What kind of person does that Aubrey? I'm a coward. I did this to you."
"You didn't do this. He did. He took advantage of a young kid. He is the one that chose this. He chooses to fight because he knows he will win, but he can't win. He won't. You didn't make it this far only to give up this close to the finish line." She didn't let up even as his face clenched in restraint. "You finally have someone on your side. An entire team of them. Me, James, Chloe's a little lost just now but she will try her damnedest to help those she loves, and potentially my mother. Although that might be more to do with my part in this. Either way; we have an adult, three popular cheerleaders, and my brother." She took another breath. Here goes nothing. "I'll ask again; what are you planning? And, how can I help?" Her posture reflected the hesitant eagerness in her soul. From the stiff shoulders to the inquisitive stare, she was never shifting her stance.
Brett could practically feel his body's wish to collapse backwards. He was never one to confront situations head-on. There was always going to be an argument. "I need you to stay away." Instantly, Aubrey's mouth opened to object. This has to work. It has to.
Brett stood outside his office, taking deep breaths. It had to be done. It has to be done. He worked the mantra over in his head while he stood there. He knew what was bound to happen wasn't going to be good but nothing could happen that hadn't before. With that sadistic safety note in his head, he walked into the room. Not stopping with a knock. He looked up from his papers.
"What can I do for you?" His tone was fluffy as he continued his use of red markers on the papers.
"To tell the truth." Brett could feel the relief envelop him as his voice proved to be strong, holding together without the shakes his legs started to exhibit.
Even with his voice holding strong, his eyes gazed over him, uncaring of his presence before returning to the work at hand. "I don't lie, Bratt, something you should work on replicating."
"Now we both know that right there is a lie itself. You may have a level of charm towards others, but we both know it doesn't work on me. I know the truth and it isn't what is coming out of your mouth at the moment."
"Is that so? I was under the impression that you were becoming troublesome, perhaps surrounding yourself with bad influences." Warren looked up over his glasses. "Or is it you that is the problem? Honestly, with all the drama, you are surrounded by, it's starting to get worrisome."
Brett was starting to get a sinking feeling. Warren was too calm. Too collected. Looking casually beyond his father, Brett could see the hands ticking by. Despite everything, there was still too long between intervals for his plan to work. Only five minutes to go.
"Maybe I was raised wrong." He knew better than to make it a question.
"Perhaps your parents simply needed to provide a strong hand to guide you better." Warren flexed his right hand. The large family ring sat paired with his wedding band. The large cluster of metal that made up the coat of arms was an intimidating side to behold. There's too much distance.
"Or maybe a gentle coaxing could have sufficed." Brett shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, bouncing anxiously on his feet. "My mother was always one to help me with my problems. She had a way with words that just soothed anyone's soul."
"You do not get to mention her!" It was a sudden bark of anger. Brett subconsciously stepped away from its source. "You have no right!" The professor had stood from his chair to face Brett, his hands clutching the marker until his knuckles were bleached.
"She was my mother." His voice fell silent. The unwavering strength has slipped away.
"But she was my wife! MY BELOVED!" Warren stepped around his desk. "You do not get to stand there with your self-righteousness when you were the one to kill her." He had stopped his walking short as his head turned towards the doorway. His hand went to smooth his hair out in a poor attempt at composure. "You killed her. You took her away, so do not stand there as though you are a victim."
"I was fourteen." Spit splattered from between his clenched teeth. Nevertheless, Warren rolled his eyes at the excuse. Brett continued, his voice picking up the volume as his jaw eased its tension. "I was fourteen and afraid, so I called my mother." Warren opened his mouth. "No! I was scared and alone. I phoned the one person I could trust, and she reassured me she was coming to get me. So, I waited for her. I was lost in that field; I didn't know what happened until the day after.
"I was trapped and alone and instead of helping me, you were too busy at work so you sent mom to get me. She was only there because you were too busy for your kid." Brett took a breath. "You sent mom out there, not me. Do you even blame the person who caused it? The person who swerved into her. No, you blame the kid who was too traumatised that he let you mould him into a punching bag for your guilt!" Warren stormed up to Brett. His arms shaking by his side in barely concealed rage.
"You don't know what you are on about boy."
"Don't I? I have the scars to prove otherwise. I know that my wrist was burned raw from the rope, I can still feel the crackling on my cheeks from the tears I wept. You were the one frozen in grief, the person who didn't weep a single tear for his 'beloved'." Brett didn't flinch back as he felt the heat radiating from his father's rage. "You are the one who got her killed. Not me. You killed her. You-"
Brett's head turned to the side, his eyes blinking slowly as he tries to get his bearings. The furniture seemed to blur into the background. Or was it the other way around? He could make out a high ringing in his right ear as a muffled repeated thumping came from his left. He couldn't stop his hand from trying to block it out. Why's it so loud? Whose radio is piercing with static? Why was the horn still going off? There wasn't a fire alarm scheduled today. It took a while for his bearing to align back up to be coherent again. His face flinched more from the volume of the words than the meaning behind them all. He had heard them all before in different retellings of this story anyway.
"If you didn't fuck up at school so badly, they wouldn't have taken you there in the first place. You just had to get picked on enough that they thought tying you up like a scarecrow was reasonable. You are the one that brought her towards that field and I am the one that was forced to dry Stacie's tears from your own doing. You are not allowed to cry for the mother you killed when you are the one to take my wife. My soulmate. I died that day with her, and it's your fault. You earned every one of your punishments and you know i-" His voice was cut off by a dry chuckle.
Brett's voice was low, almost whispering his words as he turned back towards his father. He was whispering a secret that only he knows of. He kept his eyes wide, the tears falling free as he braced himself on one arm. His legs curled under him. "Now, now professor. We wouldn't want to make a scene, would we?"
Warren's expression twisted from anger to confusion before falling blank. The colour drained further into his body, as his mind registered the words. His body twirled towards the door only to be met with the wide eyes of Ms Reid, the school's receptionist.
The woman's mouth was moving but his ears registered none of it as English. She might as well have been speaking Korean but her partner seemed to understand her perfectly as the man ran towards the fallen boy. "You're a bloody idiot, Brett, you know that." The man whispered. Brett's head turned to focus on him. Taking in his blond hair and bulky build, Brett couldn't help but smile at the irony. Of course, it would be Luke that found him.
"I know." It worked though.
Meanwhile, the centre of the room was filled with the hushed whispers of faculty members. Only the hissed capitalisations of words were audible from where the students were sitting.
"What Do-" She looked back at the scared faces before lowering her voice again. "-you think you are doing, Mr Mitchell?"
"I was just-"
"You weren't doing anything. You never raise a hand to your students."
"I didn't, we were just-" The woman cut him off.
"Just?" His eyes clenched slightly before he tried to speak again.
"I was preparing him for his next match." His voice was smooth, his thoughts now concise. He was speaking slowly as if she was one of his lesser students. Or his son.
The look she gave him was one of disbelief. Her lips poised to almost tut at him but barely refrained from doing so. "While I commend your dedication to the extracurriculars of your children, do not under any conditions assault a child on school grounds. I will be required to write a report on what I have witnessed." There was a calculated edge to her speech pattern as if she was thinking over her word choice in advance.
His arms raised slightly in front of him raising upwards and downwards. The gesture did nothing to fan her annoyance away. "I don't think that will be necessary. I was simply helping my boy with his dodges." He planted a disarming smile to cement his words.
"You dodge a punch in boxing, Professor. Slaps are rarely thrown in a match." Luke interjected.
"Exactly why he needs the training. From the looks of things, he needs another few lessons before he goes back in the ring." The edge from his voice formed a matching set in his eyes. Brett visibly flinched away at the words. Something no one could avoid witnessing.
"I think he may need a nurse, Mr Davidson." The blonde nodded before hooking himself under Brett's arm, securing him upright. Both boys grunted from the pressure. Brett's legs took a second to adjust back into supporting himself, whereas Luke was not expecting the lack of assistance from the other kid.
"Let's go, man." Luke chuffed, failing greatly to hide the exertion.
Brett shuffled with him, not even attempting to turn towards the adults. It was only once he reached the door did he return to himself. Stopping the awkward shuffle that was inevitable to happen. He reached for the door, slamming his palm into the window initially before sliding towards the handle. His grip turned white as he pulled the door open. Why would they close it? It didn't hide anything, to begin with. With a small sigh and the door was open. The two of them made their way out into the empty hall.
Brett walked straighter once the door noisily shut behind him. Enough that Luke could remove himself from being the walking and talking support frame. "You alright?" Luke didn't dare stop walking. Continued in their stride as if that would make everything better than it should be.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Good." Luke seemed as if he wanted to ask more, something was itching its way to the forefront. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do this."
"But I could have stopped it. I told Aubrey she was crazy, I stopped things with her because I thought she was crazy for thinkin..."
Brett looked at him with a twisted sense of amusement. Seriously? No wonder they dated. "You didn't know, and neither did she. You wouldn't've been able to do anything."
"But she persisted, I could have helped her. I could've done something."
Brett couldn't help but laugh. Halting them both in their spots. "You sound just like her you know."
"Really?"
"Yeah. She blames herself more than she needs to as well."
"Huh."
"Yeah."
"She knows."
Brett snuck himself a smile. Not even a question. He looked at him by the side of his eyes, worried that any more head movements would throw off his gait. It was going to be an interesting couple of weeks.