The Jesters Fool- Chapter 7

A young adult novel following Brooke Taylor a senior at a prestigious boarding highschool-- however her year is disrupted by a string of mysterious murders

Monday morning and Lexis alarm blares through our room. I grimace, pulling my pillow over my head and fighting for an extra few minutes of sleep. I can tell through the thin fabric of my pillow that the dorm light has been flipped on, and I can hear Lexi bustling about the room, getting ready for the day in her obnoxious morning person way.

“Wake up!” She calls, pulling my blankets off of me, and ripping my pillow from my hands, “It’s disney day little princess!”

“I’m not dressing up,” I protest, fighting for my blankets back.

“Oh yes you are,” She laughs, “I already have your outfit planned, and if you get ready quickly I’ll do your hair too!”

Her offer to style my hair is just enticing enough for me to push out of bed and slowly shuffle my way over to the bathroom where I tiredly revel in the warm water of the shower. 

From our r0om I can hear Lexi shuffling around, digging through our closets to make the most princess-y outfits she can imagine. Brushing my teeth I can’t help but wonder what she has planned for me. She’s obviously going to go as sleeping beauty with her blonde hair, and her favorite color being pink. But there aren’t many princess options with short brown hair. Add that to the list of reasons why I regret chopping my once waist-length waves off.

“Look!” Lexi exclaims when I step into our room. She- just as I predicted- is wearing a short pink dress with puffed sleeves, her hair is already curled and she has added an excessive amount of blush to the tip of her nose. In her outstretched arms she's holding a purple dress and pink ballet flats.

“Purple?” I ask, turning my back to her so that I can put on the dress. It falls to just above my knees, the waist is nicely cinched with a corset style top, and the fabric falls nicely out over my hips, creating a flattering figure. 

“Rapunzel after she cut her hair,” Lexi beams and I smile at her brilliance, “Sit down, I want to do your hair in those cute scrunched waves,” She giggles as I obey her command and allow her to meticulously crimp my hair.

My phone buzzes with a message and Lexi hisses as she burns her hand on the hot wand when I move my head to check the messages, “I am so sorry Lex, I will try my best to hold still now,” I apologize, as she nurses the red and slightly blistered skin.

“You’re good,” She grits out between her teeth, trying her best to practice her patience. “Who messaged you?”

She pulls her hand away for a second so that I can pick my phone up and check, “Marcus, he wants to know who he should go as.”  I know the answer already so I respond without Lexis input.

Marcus: Do I look like any disney princes?

Me: The witch from Snow White

Marcus: So you’re already going as the sea monster from Little Mermaid?

Me: Figure your outfit out yourself. Loser.

Lexi laughs with me as I read the conversation out loud for her, “He kind of looks like Prince Eric.”

“I wouldn’t tell him that, it will give him a big head,” Eric is hot�" a personal childhood crush of mine�" and Marcus is, well, Marcus.

“I sent my mom out to buy us crowns from Walmart,” Lexi says, changing the topic as she finishes spraying my hair with some long lasting texture spray. Walking over to her desk, she opens the first drawer and pulls out a package of plastic princess crowns, “It’s a five pack, so there's enough for the boys too!”
“I’m sure they will be thrilled,” I giggle, as she opens the bag and places a gold crown on each of our heads. “You’re so pretty, Lex,” I sigh, half jealousy, looking up at her through the mirror.

She pushes my shoulder playfully, “Nothing like you Brookie.” She says it to be nice, I wish that she meant it.

Checking my phone for the time I let out a gasp of shock, “We gotta hurry, Lex, class starts in five minutes!”

“No breakfast?” She whines, but after checking her own phone to confirm the time she grabs her backpack and rushes for the door. 

I make it to Pre Calc just as the tardy bell rings, and I fling myself into my seat, desperate to not be marked absent. Mr. Jackson casts me a  look of disdain, but then decides it would be more work than it’s worth writing me up as late, so he lets my dramatic entrance pass. 

“You look good today,” Trent whispers, and I can feel my face rush with heat. He’s wearing a blue suit with matching pants and a nice yellow button up underneath.

“Who are you supposed to be?” I whispered, scrutinizing his long brunette hair that he has pulled back into a short high ponytail. The hairstyle is rather becoming on him, and I wonder if he got the idea for it during one of his past shows.

“The prince from Beauty and The Beast,” He says, rolling his eyes at my idiocy. “Which princess are you supposed to be?”

“Rapunzel.” Jackson gives us a warning look and I drop my voice into a low whisper.

“The blonde, with long hair?”
“She cuts it and it turns brown at the end,” I tell him, adjusting the plastic crown that has begun to dig into the top of my head.

“Oh.” He pauses for a second, “She’s the hottest princess, hands down.” I slap his arm, earning another glare from Jackson, and I sit back in my seat, shutting up. 

For the rest of class I can feel Trents eyes on me, and after the bell rings, while I gather my stuff up to go to second period. Trent waits behind for me as I sling my backpack over my shoulders, “You have theater now, right?” I ask, trying to make small talk. He nods, still watching me.

“I’ll walk you to your class though, our teachers chill, Ms. Gratiano never marks people tardy.” He falls into step beside me as I leave the math and science building and begin my trek to the other half of campus where the religion building, which is connected to the chapel, is located. 

“You sure?” I ask as we pass the auditorium, it’s a large building located in the center of campus, outside is a small outdoor stage with some weather-decayed bleachers set up in front of it. 

“Yeah, we’re just going over audition basics for the freshman anyways, not much I need to learn from that.” He continues to inform me all about the audition process�" and how amazingly talented he is�" for the rest of our walk to the religion building. 

“Thanks for walking with me,” I smile, waving at Marcus, who I can see through the glass door, coming to class from the opposite half of the building. I ditch Trent and walk inside quickly, meeting up with my best friend in the hall.

“You should be keeping your distance from him, Brooke,” Marcus whines, shaking his head. He thinks I’m pathetic, and it’s humiliating.

“We’re just friends, Marcus,” I defend myself, “He offered to walk to class with me because he doesn't have anything to do in second period, that’s all.”
“Whatever.” We open the door to room 118 and take our seats, “You really should have higher standards in guys, Brooke.” He mutters, loudly enough for the whole class to hear, just as Aaron enters the room. 

Aarons eyes go wide with a shock for a second, looking at me in confusion, before shaking his head and letting out a short sharp laugh. As he takes his seat at the opposite half of the room, I feel as if I’m drowning in awkward tension. “Marcus, why did you have to say that so loud?” 

“I’m actually so sorry, I wasn’t even thinking about him,” He confesses, “I’ll talk to him after class if you want, so that he knows he has nothing to be mad at you about.”

I shake my head, “And tell him that I already like someone else?” 

“I knew you liked him!” Marcus exclaims triumphantly, once again loud enough for the whole room to hear. He clamps his hand over his mouth as I give him the most vile look I can muster. “I’ll be quiet now,” He whispers, pulling a bible out from under his desk and cracking open the cover. 

Men are so incapable of basic societal common sense, it’s embarrassing, “Maybe you should talk to Aaron after class, but keep it super casual.” I tell him, tucking my hair behind my ear, no longer needing it to shield me from my humiliation.

“Sorry,” The bell rings and our conversation falters as class starts.

At the end of the lesson I reach under the desk, in an attempt to return my bible to its place. It slips from my hands before its weight is fully on the metal shelf and it falls to the ground. Marcus reaches down for me, putting my bible away and giving me a shy smile. “Do you really want me to talk to Aaron?” He whispers, as the rest of the class lines up at the door, waiting for the bell to dismiss them into the hall.

“No,” I sigh, he can think what he wants. Marcus nods, and then picks up my backpack, handing it to me, as we also go to wait at the door. 

I fidget awkwardly with my dress, the corset like top digging uncomfortably into my ribs, “Lexi has a crown for you,” I grin, remembering her little surprise for the guys.

“Does it happen to look like yours?” He asks, stealing mine from off my head and messing up my hair. I smooth it down indignantly, as he tries on the princess crown that was definitely made for a five year olds birthday party. “I feel fabulous,” He grins, taking out his phone and checking himself out in the camera. “I’m keeping this one.”

“I’ll be crownless until I see her again!” I exclaim, indignant. I stand on my tiptoes trying to reach up and snatch my beautiful crown back from its new home atop his head. I only succeed in grabbing a handful of his dark brown curls, and I earn a very pained and angry look from him. “Can I please have my crown back?” I pout, the bell rings and the class spills out the door and into the hallway. He shakes his head no, and I continue to try to jump up on him and steal my crown back all the way to our third period study hall. 

We settled into our normal coroner in the back of the room. Most seniors just go to the senior lounge for study hall but Marcus and I like our privacy in a little corner that we have claimed, where no underclassmen would dare come and bother us. We both sit on the floor, our backs pressed against the wall. “So, how long have you liked Trent for?” Marcus asks, and my face reddens with his question, “Did it ever end? You’ve secretly been desperately in love with him for years?”

“Marcus,” I brush my hair behind my ears and think, “I don’t even know, it just all hit me the other day.”

“Romantic.” He looks into my eyes after staring at me quizzically, searching for a deeper answer that I’m refusing to give him. After an uncomfortable moment of silence he reluctantly removes his princess crown and hands it back to me. I take it gratefully and slip it onto my head.

“How do I look?” I ask, adjusting it slightly as I feel it slip to the side.

Marcus smiles, but it doesn’t change his eyes, which have taken on an almost sad look, “You look beautiful, Brooke, you always do.” 

I can hear the truth in his voice, and I turn away from him, not wanting to see how the sentence splayed itself on his face. “Thanks,” I mutter.  “Do you think he likes me?” I’m not sure if I want to hear the answer, but I’m also desperate to know his best friend's interpretation of his flirty attitude.

“I don’t know, Brooke,” He stiffens slightly beside me, “Honestly, he might. But he also could just like the attention from you.”

“You think he might be using me?”

“I don’t know Brooke!” He snaps, opening his backpack and grabbing out a notebook and pen, beginning to work on his homework and tune me out.

“Sorry I brought it up,” I respond, defensively, grabbing my stuff and heading out of the room and into the senior lounge.

Marcus hasn’t talked to me since our fight. Two days later and he still hasn’t said a word. He completely ignores me during meals and during all of our classes together. It seems like the rest of our friends are refusing to take sides and get involved in our petty argument because they’re all acting the same as they usually would.

“You have to be the bigger person here, Brookie,” Lex tells me on the way to breakfast, “I hate that you two are fighting and it’s really awkward for the rest of us.”

“Yeah, I know.” I glance down at my white shirt, triple checking that it doesn’t have any stains. In theory white out day would have been cute, but I cannot trust myself with white clothing. At some point today either this shirt, the white jeans I borrowed from Lexi, or my already dirty shoes will end up getting stained. It's an inevitability.

Lexi and I get into line for breakfast, she grabs a bowl of cheerios, and I grab what is potentially a blueberry bagel, and a glass of water. I’m not taking any chances with colors today.

Everyone looks up from the table with their newly awkward tension, filled with a hopeful anticipation that things will have returned to normal. I set my tray of food down, keeping my eyes on the ground, refusing to even give Marcus the dignity of a glance. 

I feel the table shift as Marcus frustratedly stands, “I’m sick of you being so petty, Brooke.” He growls, snatching his tray with aggression, scanning the room for a new table to join.

“Me? Petty?” I stand up as well, walking over to his space and getting into his face, “You were the one to stop talking to me?”
His dark eyes turn to Trent for a heated moment, “You know why�" stop playing dumb.” He goes to shove past me, his tray brushing against my arm, the pressure upsetting his glass of orange juice and spilling it down the front of my shirt. He stares at me for a long moment of silence. Everyone around us is watching to see who will snap first.

Marcus’ eyes, a moment ago filled with hatred now glimmer with laughter as he presses his lips together to conceal his grin. I let out a giggle, trying to wipe away the orange juice with no avail.

“That’s not gonna work,” He pulls my hands away from my body, and attempts to wipe at the stain with a napkin. “I’m so sorry, Brooke,” He laughs again, knowing that I have forgiven him for everything.

“It was my fault,” I whisper to him, turning to the rest of our table, I announce, “I’m going to go change into something less stainable.”

Lexi eyes her jeans carefully before I leave, making sure that Marcus hadn’t ruined them. “I’ll come with you,” Trent pushes up from the table. Marcus moves to stop him, but Trent walks past him anyways, acting as if he hadn’t seen his tense body and obvious protestation.

“Thanks,” I smile, grabbing my backpack from the floor and heading out into the cool October morning. “I told Lexi I couldn’t be trusted in white.”

“She should really know you better than this by now,” He laughs, playfully pushing my shoulder. I stumble slightly off of the sidewalk, my shoe landing in a puddle of mud. I cast him an bemused look as I shake off my shoe, watching in horror as several splashes of mud find their way onto Lexis white skinny jeans. 

“Hey, has everything been alright with Marcus?” I ask suddenly, the regret of not speaking to him for the past two days washing over me.

Trent shrugs, “I honestly don’t know, he’s been cold to me the past couple of weeks.” 

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” I confide to his best friend, “I’m worried.”

“Brooke,” Trent grabs my arm, and I turn to look at him, “Do you think he likes you?”
“So what if he did?” I laugh nervously, “Why would he be mad at you?” Trent raises his eyebrows slightly as my face flushes.

“I suppose you have a point.” He shrugs, opening the door to the senior dorm for me. He follows just behind me up the stairs to the girls floor and into my room. 

The five minutes to class bell rings and I turn to him with fear in my eyes, “We’re going to be late to Jackson's class.”

“No we’re not.” He looks so calm, as I throw my closet open, desperately looking for a new shirt.

“I’m counting down the seconds in my head,” I say, panicked. I normally could care less about getting a tardy, but one from Jackson might send me over the edge.

“We’re not going to be late brooke,” Trent assures me.

“How do you suppose we’ll get there?” I snap, as the one minute bell rings and I finally find a white t-shirt.

“Because we’re ditching.” He smiles as my face falls.

“No way.” I protest, rushing into the bathroom to quickly change. “Jackson would have our heads!”
“Brooke, do you really want to walk into that man's class late?” I shake my head no, coming out of the bathroom, after changing. “Besides this way we can finally spend some time with each other.”

I smile at the thought. Trent and I haven’t had a moment to ourselves all semester. “Fine, but you better have some good gossip for me then.” I push my hair behind my ears, and sit on my bed cross legged, awaiting his life updates.

He sits down next to me and sighs, “Where do I even begin, I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

“I miss how close we used to be,” I confess with a sigh, and he reaches out, placing his hand on mine.

“You were my best friend.” He tells me, and for a moment, with his confession, and his hand against mine I forget how to breathe. “I regretted breaking up with you because I lost my best friend.”
“Trent,” I put a hand to my chest, trying to steady my nerves.

“I’m so serious, Brooke,” He tells me, “I loved you.”

My heart drops and I think I’m going to be sick, “No you didn’t.” I can feel my legs shaking, and I wonder if he can feel my anxiety. “We were freshmen.”

No matter what I did feel for him then, or what I do feel for him now, it is far from love. I’ve never loved a boy�" not romantically. 

“Wow, sorry, that was a lot.” He mutters, pulling his hand away from mine and moving to the other side of my bed, putting some distance between us.

“No, no. That’s okay,” I stammer, “Thanks for telling me. I guess that’s something I needed to know.”

“Don’t worry about it or anything, okay?” Trent asks, concern crossing over his face, “I’m over you and stuff now.”

My heart drops further, an adverse reaction to his sudden statement. Am I disappointed by this?  “Of course,” I tell him, determined not to let him see the sadness in my face.

“I’m just telling you this because I want my best friend back.” He reaches out his hand to me again, and I grasp it tenderly. He grins and gives me a curt handshake. Three years in the making has brought us to this moving moment of reconciliation.

“You think Marcus is gonna be jealous?” I ask, thinking of my other best friend, who I have, admittedly, been awful to lately.

“Green with envy,” Trent confirms. The bell for class to end rings, and Trent once again walks me to my religion class, claiming that he doesn’t mind being a minute or two late to theater.

“I don’t like the way you look at him,” Marcus mutters after I take my seat. The bell for class has already rang, so we speak softly so as to not disrupt the lesson. “You know he doesn’t see you like that.”

“Marcus,” My voice is sharp, trying to silence the conversation, “We’re not doing this again.”

“I want you to be careful, that's all.” His tone is insincere but the expression on his face leads me to believe him.

I lean towards him, acting as if I dropped my pencil and need to retrieve it, I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear, “I don’t need you to protect me.”

He grimaces at my words, hardening his demeanor, and turning to his bible where we’re supposed to be reading. I can tell by the awkward rise and fall of his shoulders that he is trying his best to control his quick temper, and I know it is best to drop the subject, despite the fact that he was the one who brought it up�" again.

When class is dismissed Marcus walks away without saying a word to me, and I sigh, already knowing that I have re-earned the silent treatment. Something about the chronically awful mood that teenage boys seem so often to be in grates on my nerves as I march to my third period study hall, alone.

Marcus chose to sit in the senior commons, and since I don’t know if I can so much as handle his presence at the moment, I sit in our normal corner in the underclassmen study hall, wishing that I had my best friend to talk to to help pass the hour.

My phone buzzes with a text from Lexi and I sigh in relief as I read her message.

Lexi: Come to the choir room- we have a free period !!

I like her message and make my way out of my building and across campus to the fine arts hall. Outside the wind has picked up, and it bites my cheeks, burning my lips. By the time I make it inside of the arts building, my hair is a matted mess, and I giggle, knowing that I can force Lexi to braid it for me.

My face falls as I step into the choir room, seeing Marcus seated on the floor next to Lexi and Trent. The door clicks as I re-shut it and he turns to me, giving me a grim, awkward smile as I make my way over to the group. I sit in between Lexi and Trent, keeping my distance from Marcus. 

I can feel his eyes boring into me as I shift closer to Trent, and I wrap my arms around my legs, as if a kind of shield. Although not unwanted, the close proximity to Trent makes me slightly uncomfortable as I run through the events of this morning in my head, with him sitting right there next to me. I wonder if he’s thinking about it too, as he hasn’t said a word to me since I entered the room.

“Your hair looks awful,” Lexi finally breaks the silence, and I let out a sigh of relief as both the boys shoulders drop, the tension of the circle having finally been broken.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to fix it for me,” I respond, with a cheeky smile, trying to run my fingers through the tangles.

“It would be my pleasure,” She grins, grabbing two hair ties out of the front pocket of her backpack�" she’s the type of girl who is always armed with extras, whereas I’m constantly losing mine. 

The boys talk quietly between eachother, mostly entranced in how Lexi tenderly runs her fingers through my hair, braiding the short brown waves with ease. She gives me the two little pigtail braids that I wore so often when I was younger, and it makes me feel safe. The hairstyle brings back memories of inexperience and naivety, and I cling to the emotions throughout the rest of the day.

“Hey Brooke,” Lexi calls into the bathroom, as I finish blow drying my hair. I give myself a last look in the mirror, before stepping back into the dorm room, casting a curious expression on my roommate, waiting for her to go on, “What are you wearing for mustache day?” 

You know a dress up day is bad if even ever-stylish Lexi is at a loss for what to wear. “I’m not doing it,” I tell her simply. Although this has been the statement that I have made at the start of almost every morning this week, I stand firm in my decision today. 

Lexis face contorts for a second, as she decides how to respond, “I hate that you and Marcus are always fighting now.” She tells me as I pull a Timberline hoodie over my head.

“I know,” I sigh, “I hate it too, and I know it’s so weird for everyone else.”

“Can I-” She stops but continues after I give her a prompting look, “Can I ask what this is all about?”

“Lex,” My voice comes out serious, and I clear my throat, trying to make my impending declaration more light, “I like Trent.”

Her face falls, and I’m afraid she’ll be upset with me too, “Well duh.” She just shrugs.

“Duh?” I exclaim, “That’s all you have to say?”
“It just makes sense,” She giggles, “Everyone can tell that you and Trent have something going on.”

“In what way does that give Marcus the right to be upset with me?”

Lexi looks as if she pities me, as she reaches out her arm and squeezes my hand for a second while saying, “You have to know he has feelings for you, Brookie.”

I scrunch up my nose in shock and disgust, “He doesn’t.” I say sharply, “I love him too much for him to ruin it.”

“Isn’t that a little selfish?” She asks, as we head out to the dining hall.

“Selfish that I want my friend to stay my friend? No.” I end our conversation, wrapping my arms around myself to shield me from the cool Minnesota air.

Lexi and I sit at our usual table, the boys are all already seated. “Good morning.” I say, pointedly, to Marcus. He glances up from his plate, relief washing over his face as the sound of my voice washes over him. 

“Morning,” He responds nonchalantly, but I can tell that he’s glad I’ve forgiven him. Our friendship has progressed past apologies, and now a simple word is enough to end a vicious argument.

As I take my seat I take a second glance at the boys and can’t help but laugh at the fact that they’ve all drawn mustaches in permanent marker across their faces. Lexi makes a face, also noticing, “You better not even dream of kissing me until that washes off.” She warns Thomas, who immediately starts rubbing at his upper lip with vigor.

“Give me twenty minutes and it’ll be gone,” He promises her, earning a solid pat on the back from Trent, who gives him a playful smirk.

“So what are our plans for the dance?” Lexi asks, abruptly changing the awkward conversation that she accidentally incited.

“I told some of the guys from theater I’d go with them.” Trent shrugs apologetically, “It was when Marcus and Brooke were fighting, and I wasn’t sure if they’d cool down before Saturday or not, so I wanted to play it safe.” My heart falls, I had been very heavily secretly hoping that he would ask me to the dance. 

It’s not like homecoming at Timberline is a huge deal or anything, kids get ready in their dorms, eat a catered dinner in the dining hall, and then the whole school walks across campus together and over to the gym where we dance for a few hours before we’re forced to go back to our rooms for the night. It is very much not a romantic sort of night, and the only people who go as couples are normally the people who are already dating. Unfortunately for me, it meant that there was very little chance I’d be asked by anyone at all. And now my chances of going with Trent as my date are completely over. 

“It’s fine,” I tell him, trying my best to mask my disappointment. Glancing over at Marcus, a terrible idea starts forming in my head. I’m about to potentially manipulate my best friend, and my crush, who is also one of my best friends. But maybe it will be worth it? “I was thinking of asking Marcus if he wanted to go with me anyway.” The words have left my mouth and I cannot take them back.

Marcus’ arm goes limp on the table and he gives me a look of surprise, his face coloring just slightly. “No shot.” He calls my bluff, but I shake my head, denying his very valid accusations.

I real back my manipulation just a bit, “I just figured since you’re my best friend you wouldn’t want to say no to being my date,” I tuck my hair behind my ear, staring him in the eyes challengingly, “But if you don’t want to, that’s fine-”

“No!” He interjects, quite enthusiastically, “No, it’d be cool to go with you.”

“Well, I am pretty cool.”

“Should I- Can I make you a sign or something?” He asks, his face splitting into a grin and his eyes lighting up with inspiration.

I give Lexi a nervous look before nodding to him, “A reaction like that cannot be good,” I shudder, before bursting into laughter.

Will Trent want me again if he thinks I’m into Marcus? Were my friends right that Marcus liked me? Am I betraying and using him by doing this?

 My conscience haunts me throughout the first half of my day, until Marcus comes marching into my fifth period, a triumphant smile on his face as he flips around his poster that he made. It reads, in his big obnoxious lettering: “I mustache you to accompany me to hoco”.

“Marcus,” Mrs. Anderson makes a face at the boy, “I understand interrupting my class for a homecoming proposal, but one this… awful?”

I giggle and get up from my desk, wrapping my arms around his neck in a tight embrace, “I like it,” I laugh, admiring his uniquely odd sense of humor.

“Yeah, Mrs. Lexi’s mom,” Marcus turns to Mrs. Anderson, pulling away from me with a proud grin, “It’s brilliant.”

“Get out of my classroom, Marcus,” She laughs, shooing the boy out and closing the door behind him. Once she’s turned her back to the door, he turns back and waves to me through the small window. I smile to myself and wave back. My plan has been set in motion. 

Author's Note

please leave any and all critiques and comments, I GREATLY! appreciate them, thank you