The Jesters Fool- Chapter 9

High school senior Brooke Taylor navigates a year filled with murder and secrecy, trying her best to make it out alive.

The entire Taylor Swift discography is blaring down the girls dormitory hallway, as we get ready for the dance in synchronized panic. The whole floor is a flurry of flying dresses, smudged makeup, and the obnoxious constant clicking of high heels against linoleum flooring. The vague scent of burned hair is coming from mine and Lexi’s bathroom, as she styles girl after girl for the dance.

“Okay! That’s it!” She exclaims, ushering a sophomore girl out of our dorm, her hair curled in delicate ringlets around her face, “I’m closing up shop! I need time to get myself ready!” A few girls sigh and stop hovering in the hallway outside of our room in hopes that she’d have time to do up their hair as well. “Sorry ladies!” She calls after them, closing our door and heaving a sigh of relief as she gets her first moment of peace all day.

“What time are the guys meeting us up here?” I ask, applying another layer of blush across my already too-pink cheeks.

She checks her phone, taking a moment as she scrolls through old messages, “five-thirty.” Her face sets into a look of panic as she repeats, “Five-thirty.” 

“You still have two hours, Lex,” I try to calm her,  checking my phone for the time. 

“Two hours is fine for you!” She exclaims, staring at herself in the mirror, “You already have your makeup done, and I’m the one who's going to do your hair!”

I make a face at her, as I lay my homecoming dress across my bed, staring at it in thinly veiled adoration. It’s a beautiful shade of dark blue, and when I saw it in a boutique this summer, I knew I had to have it. Most girls wait to buy their dresses until a month or two before the dance, but I’ve had mine purchased and ready since the end of May. My mom was less than thrilled that I hadn’t consulted her about it before I bought it, but she approved of it nonetheless. “Dress first or hair first?” I ask her, as she pulls out her makeup bag and starts to frantically slather foundation across her face.

“Dress�" but don’t rush me, art takes time.” She refuses to use the beauty blender next to her elbow, instead opting for her hands to quickly blend the product in. I have often noticed her use her hands while doing her makeup�" a habit that I hope she breaks before she goes to cosmetology school.

“You take all the time you need,” I giggle, grabbing my phone and going to Marcus’ contact. 

Me: Have you started getting ready yet???

Marcus: I thought you knew me

Marcus: I’m not putting my tux on until moments before I leave the door.

Me: you’re not doing any makeup for me?

Marcus: I know you like it when I keep it natural.

I giggle, glad to have such a sweet and funny boy as my best friend.

“Trent does not have you giggling over something he sent you, does he?” Lexi asks in disgusted horror. I flush, realizing that this is the type of reaction that girls have when they have a crush, and I’m too ashamed to admit that it was Marcus and not Trent who had me acting like this.

“Ew.” I say instead, shutting my phone off before responding to his message. I can’t be blushing like this over my best friend. It’s because he’s my date, I reason to myself, unwilling to consider any other options.

“Do you think anything will happen between you two tonight?” She asks, and I look at her in horror for a moment before I realize she means Trent.

“If he doesn’t start anything, I’m making the first move,” I tell her, swelling up my chest in pride.

“Oh?” She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow as she drags eyeliner across her lid. I nod, deflating a little at the thought of having to be the bigger person, but I like him so much that it makes me feel sick, just sitting around doing nothing.

I watch Lexi as she finishes off her makeup with a sparkly dot of highlighter at the tip of her nose. She scrunches up her face in the mirror, checking where the makeup leaves odd lines, and then adds another layer of setting powder over the new creases. Satisfied with how she looks, I follow her into the bathroom where she starts straightening her already pin-straight hair. 

“Don’t you think that's a little pointless, Lex?” I ask, twisting my own natural waves around my finger. 

“I’m going to curl yours.” She says, giving me a pointed look through the mirror and I giggle. “Go put on your dress while I finish up my hair,” She tells me, as she begins to add a waterfall braid. I watch mesmerized for a second as her long blonde hair slips delicately between her fingers.

The silk fabric of my dress hugs my body, embracing my curves, rather than following in my usual habit of suppressing them. Wandering over to the mirror, I see a woman. Her lips are full and her eyes are bright. She is a naive woman, but blossoming into new life. “You look beautiful, Brookie,” Lexi sighs, glancing out of the bathroom and taking in my appearance with me.

“Are you ready for my hair yet?” I ask, breaking my grown-up trance and seeing once again a timid teenage girl.

“Yep,” She gestures towards the counter where the hair curler is warming. I stand much taller than Lexi and she has to bring in her desk chair for me to sit in while she gets my hair prepped. She puts a hand to my temple, protecting my eyes as she sprays heat protectant. “I am trying my absolute best not to ruin your gorgeous makeup,” She giggles.

My phone buzzes, but I don’t look down to check the message, too scared of earning Lexis wrath by an unexpected movement. It buzzes again, this time a call coming in. Marcus’ name lights up the screen, and with Lexis permission I hit accept, placing the call on speaker.

“Hey,” his voice sounds weird, choked.

“What's up?” I crease my brow, despite the fact that he can’t see me.

“I need to say something�" before tonight.” Lexi freezes behind me, her breath stopping with her stiffening body.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alone right now?” Lexi squeezes my shoulder.

I lie, “Yeah.” 

“You’re my date.” He starts, and I want to compliment his brilliant observation, but I bite my tongue and hold myself back, “I want to be your date.” His tone shifts on the last word.

“You are my date?” I play dumb, if I know nothing, he can’t be mad at me later.

“Yeah, okay.” He pauses for a minute, “Sorry for bothering you, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay, love you.” I hang up before he has a chance to say a word.

“Brooke?” I can tell Lexi is judging me. “What are you getting at?”

“It’s just for one night,” I promise her, my chest tight with peremptory regret, “I just need Trent to see us together for one night.” 

“I don’t think this will end well,” She warns me, her voice coming out too sweet. A sign that she thinks that I am in the wrong.

I snap at her, my anger with my lack of relationship skills coming out against her, “You don’t get a say here Lexi.” She finishes my curls before I speak again, “Your life is perfect.”

“I’m not judging you,” She says slowly, treading on glass, “I just don’t want you to end up getting hurt.” My heart hurts when I realize how rude I was to her. My best friend and probably the only girl that I can turn to. As much as I love Marcus, I could never have the type of bond with him that I have with Lexi. 

I apologize to her, for the sake of femininity. For the sake of solidarity and unspoken understanding. “Lex, I didn’t mean it.” I confess.

“I know, grumpy.” She giggles, applying a light layer of hairspray over my synthetic curls. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” I promise. And I mean it. This is something that I will fight to fulfill. I can’t risk letting my best friend down.

Two simultaneous knocks sound against our door. Lexi and I turn to each other, grinning. One last once over before we meet our dates. “You look great,” Our voices ring out in unison, our feud officially ending. 

Lexi opens the door, and the guys fall into the room, hands on our waists to support themselves as they take their best friends in. “You look good Brooke,” Marcus blushes. I bite my lip, hesitant to flirt back, but batting my eyes and giving him a coy smile comes on easily.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” I finger the navy blue material of his suit, he took the matching colors with your date thing very seriously. My fingers danced against the exposed skin on his wrist for a moment, freezing, before moving up his arm.

“You clean up nicely,” Thomas smiles at me, finally breaking his gaze from the mesmerizing image that is Lexi.

“Thank you,” I giggle, dropping my face in a well practiced flattered blush. Marcus’ hand comes to rest on mine, squeezing my fingers reassuringly. 

“We should get to the caf for dinner,” Lexi smiles, ushering the group out of our dorm and down the hallway. Marcus and I follow a few steps behind Lex and Thomas, and as we walk along, our arms brush.

“Stop touching me,” I mutter with a flirty giggle, drawing even closer to him. 

“Stop?” He asks, extending out his hand and grasping mine. He looks like he wants to continue to speak, but I squeeze his fingers and give him a smile instead. We walk like this into the cold fall evening.

I pull Marcus closer to me, forcing him to block the wind from my barely clothed body. Homecoming dresses are cute and all, but definitely not made for walking outdoors in early Minnesota Autumn. “You cold?” He asks, laughing and wrapping his arm around me for the remainder of our short trek.

“Yes!” I shudder as my body is wracked in a sudden chill. My heels scuff slowly against the pavement, as if my feet are weighted down by the freezing air, and I feel unable to move on. Two steps away from the cafeteria doors, and my body is rooted to the spot.

Marcus gives me a playful shove, and I stumble forward, grabbing Lexi’s arm, the two of us breaking our way into the caf together. “Warmth!” She cries, embracing me in her giddy excitement.

Marcus and Thomas follow after us, shaking their heads at our outrageous display. After we calm down, we make our way to our usual table, and to my dismay I see Trent already seated with his theater friends, on the opposite half of the room as us. 

I awkwardly catch his eye, and I press myself closer to Marcus, a sly smile playing on my face. “What’s this all about?” He asks me, his face coloring a shade of red.

“Still cold, that’s all.”

“Mhmm.” He lets my answer satisfy him, contented by my close proximity.

Lexi's hand finds mine, and she squeezes my fingers. I turn and am greeted by her grim face. “What’s the matter?” I whisper, casting a dirty side eye at Thomas in case he is the reason for her mood.

“The dinner is pasta.” She whines and I giggle as she preemptively mourns the loss of her dress. 

“You’ll be fine,” I squeeze her hand back before dropping it to her side, “I’d be more worried about your date.”

Thomas glares at me, accompanied with a good humored smile, “Your lack of faith in me is devastating.” He responds, wrapping his arm around Lex so the couple is now standing the same way that me and Marcus are.

We make our way to our usual table, which is partially taken up by a group of underclassmen, but we don’t make them move since there’s only four of us tonight. Trent, I decide, is not worth my attention right now. It would be better to avoid him during dinner and put on  a show of being infatuated with Marcus. Then at the dance, I can reveal my true feelings.

Once we’re settled at our table the boys go off to get us plates, following some weird Timberline chivalry tradition. 

“I wish we could just skip the dance,” Thomas laughs as the whole student body begins to make their way to the gym. Lexi hits his arm, indignation washing across her face.

“We could never skip the dance! It’s the social event of the semester.” Her sarcastic comment takes a moment to land on Thomas; he stares at her aghast that she would enjoy something like this. “I’m kidding,” she giggles, quickly kissing his cheek before laughing at him some more.

“Boys are so stupid.” Marcus says, in a mock imitation of my voice.

“You know my favorite thing about you?” I ask him, a playful smile on my lips. He raises his eyebrow in response, “The way we agree on everything.” Marcus grins, squeezing my hand in his.

I allow Marcus to drag me to the dance floor, following very closely after Lexi and Thomas. My eyes, naturally, do a quick scan for Trent, but I can’t find him. My heart falls a little bit at the idea that I might not see him at all tonight. That would make my whole plan be for nothing. That would make what I am doing with Marcus unjustifiable, if I gain nothing from this, and lead him to lose everything.

We dance, because that is what dates do at dances. I allow my body to brush against Marcus’, I allow myself to get close to him. It’s not unenjoyable though. Part of me wishes that I had done this with him sooner. If I had allowed myself to have feelings for Marcus earlier, we might have had a shot at being happy together now. But I am almost completely in love with his best friend, and besides, it would be weird for me to have feelings for Marcus. He knows everything about me, and as much as I trust him with my secrets, I am unsure if I can trust him with my heart.

My emotions are too conflicted. The music is overstimulating, the intense volume making my head pound. “I’m gonna go get water,” I mutter, pulling out of Marcus’ firm grasp, and stumbling towards the gym exit. 

As I escape the claustrophobic room, my body sags against the wall to the floor. I take a deep breath of air, my eyes shut as I try to soothe my nerves. “Are you okay?” I glance up at Trent, who is hovering over me, concern splayed against his kind face.

“Yeah,” I blush, he is the last person I wanted to see me like this, “Just got a little overwhelmed. I don’t do well with crowds.”
“I remember.” He laughs, moving to sit down next to me. He wraps his arms across my shoulders, a tender display. “It was one of my favorite things about you.”

“My lack of social development impressed you?” I laugh, the humor of my joke not quite reaching my eyes, and I can feel how fake my facial expression must look.

“No.” With his free arm he takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently, “It was just a little quirk you had, and I always found it cute.”

“Oh ew,” I laugh, rolling my eyes, half in amusement, half in disgust. “Never say that again.”

“You’re quirky?” He asks, and laughter flickers in his beautiful eyes.

“Do you want to dance?” I answer in response, and he nods, helping me to my feet and walking with me back to the gym. His hand feels warm in my grasp. We make our way through the dancing bodies, and just as we manage to make an open spot, a slow song comes on. 

“May I have this dance?” He bows to me cordially.

“Save your theatrics for the stage,” I grin up at him, as he pulls my body close to his. The proximity to my crush makes me flush with embarrassment. I’m almost a woman, and here I am, shy to dance with a boy who makes my heart skip a beat.

As the song progresses I feel myself losing my nerve. I have to make a move now, before I lose my chance. “Trent,” I clear my throat, my voice came out barely over a whisper. “Trent,” I try again, this time his name is crisp, the diction feeling almost foreign against my tongue. I am determined to ask him a question that will seemingly seal my fate. I hesitate. Feeling as if I have lost the moment.

The music lowers, to a point where our breath comes louder than the notes. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, I press myself tighter against Trent, trying to mask it. His fingers shift against my waist, sending a chill through my body.

“Brooke?” He asks, and I lift my head to look at him. My eyes focus on his lips rather than his gaze. I am mesmerized. My determination to declare my feelings for him returns.

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?” I ask, pressing up on my toes, bringing my face nearer to his.

He swallows, closes his eyes in a moment of thought, and then he stiffens. “Yeah- no, yeah. It would be weird.” His hands fall from my waist, he now stands in front of me, fully unconnected. My face drops, my heart sinks. I had the first move and still lost the game. “I’m sorry Brooke, I can’t do this.” He runs his hands over his eyes, and before he shakes his thoughts loose enough to express his reasoning, I’m walking shakily away. Fingers pressed against my lips, ashamed.

Something possesses me, and suddenly I have one target as I march on new legs. Marcus’ silhouetted back is to me, and when I approach him, I snake my hand down his arm, ensnaring him in my desperate grasp. He turns away from the group of guys he was talking to, and looks down at me. 

My eyes are glossy, but I have blinked away all of my unshed tears. He opens his mouth, about to ask me a question, but my hands cup his face and guide his lips to me before he can get anything out. 

We kiss, his fingers tangling in my hair, my hands migrating to his neck, clinging to him as if he is my support. This is wrong, horribly wrong, but it feels right. 

“Brooke?” He pulls away from me, eyes clouded with the desire to kiss me again.

“Marcus?” I replicate his tone of voice, tilting my head to the side and biting my lip. 

“What just happened?” His hands are holding my arms, he stares into my eyes.

“I kissed you.” Short and sweet, nothing more. 

“Why?”
I tell him a lie, but I also think it is the truth. “Because I wanted to.”
“Why?” He asks me again, this time he sounds demanding.

“Because you’re my date. And I wanted to kiss you.” With his hands still around my upper arms, I reach up enough to wrap my arms around the back of his neck, once again lowering his lips to mine. I am greedy for another kiss. Another rush of power.

With a completely feigned passion, I let my best friend believe that I want him. I can feel the eyes of the whole room settle on us, and I satisfy my ravenous hunger for revenge by knowing that Trent is watching. He sees as I kiss another man. One who will do anything for me�" despite the fact that I don’t truly want him. I grow warm from the attention of judgmental eyes settling on us, and I finally break away.

Have I made a mistake by kissing Marcus? I thought that claiming Trent would seal for me a fate of happiness and love. What if by turning to my best friend instead I have condemned myself? “Marcus,” I breathe his name like a prayer, a plea for redemption.

“Brooke.” He replicates my tone, his prayer is of praise rather than remorse. “I like you. I have, for a long time now. Probably since I met you.” He rambles on and my body feels cold. The room presses in on me, but I feel worryingly alone.

“I have to go-” I push past him, unable to hear another word. Everyone's gaze shifts as I make my escape. In a school with very little drama, this will very likely be the scandal of the year.

I don’t leave alone. Marcus follows after me of course, like the boy who hates conflict that he is. I run ahead of him, bare feet against the cold cement.

I make it into the dorm building before he catches up with me. I could make it upstairs, and lock myself in my room, but this is a confrontation that I have to have. Steadying myself with a breath, I turn to my best friend, a grim look on my face.

Marcus starts first, because he’s the more mature of the two of us, “You didn’t kiss me because you liked me.” I shake my head, no response coming to my tongue. He continues as he notices I am at a loss for words, “I feel like you’re using me, Brooke.” His voice is sad and his eyes are pleading, waiting with bated breath for me to deny his accusations.

“I am.” Is all I can say, because the truth is being drawn out of me with his cutting gaze.

“You knew I had feelings for you!” He steps closer to me, he’s the only thing that fills my vision as I stare at him straight on, “And you were in love with Trent, and I was okay with that.”

“Why?” My volume raises, making him flinch.

His voice booms throughout the common room, matching my tone, “Because I love you.” Tears burn my eyes as his forced confession falls at my feet. Realizing that he just yelled that, he clears his throat before continuing evenly, “I wanted whatever you wanted because I was in love with you.”

“But you didn’t want me to be with him,” I shake my head furiously, determined to play the victim, “You hated that I liked him. You kept telling me that he didn’t want me.”
“Was any of that a lie?” He lashes out in his anger. I stiffen, unsure of how to continue. “Did he want you, or did he shut you down so you came waltzing over to your second best option?” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Is all I can say, as I wipe furiously at my face, desperate for the hot tears to stop burning my skin. 

“Too late for that.” He mutters, pushing his hair off his forehead in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” I try again, but my voice comes out high as if I have told a lie.

“That's not good enough!” I’ve never heard so much passion in a single person's voice, and fear begins to fill me as I look at my best friend. Anger has corrupted his normally sweet face, danger playing against his crazed smile.

“I need to go,” I mutter, turning from him, knowing that I have destroyed everything. He lets out a sharp laugh, grabbing my arm and dragging me back to him.

“You hurt me, Brooke.” He growls, and when I turn my head to look at him, I see that he has finally begun to cry, to show the emotion that was previously only visible from his voice.

“You’re hurting me,” I grit out, as my arm goes numb in his clutch. He lets go of me quickly, and I pull my arms against my chest, a red handmark wrapping around it.

“I’m so sorry,” He moves as if to touch me, maybe in what he thinks will be a comforting manner, but he pulls back at the last moment. Perhaps he is scared of what will happen if he makes contact with me again.

“It’s my fault.” I mutter, beginning to head upstairs. “We’ll talk later, goodnight Marcus.”  He mutters something under his breath as I glance back one final time, seeing Lexi enter the dorm building. She glares at me for a moment, before I finally leave them behind me.

I can hear Lexi’s key in the lock of our door as she lets herself in. Light flows into the dark room as the door cracks open and she slips in, a mere shadow, her homecoming dress an unwelcome remnant of tonight. I lay in my bed, baggy sweatpants and Timberline t-shirt contrasting with my styled hair and heavy makeup. 

“You asleep?” Lexi whispers, she hopes that I am, that she can avoid an awkward conversation with me. 

“No,” I whisper back, sitting up against my pillows and pulling my knees to my chest. “Lexi, I feel so awful.”

“That makes sense,” She half laughs, barely concealing the sarcasm behind her voice. “I don’t expect Marcus to forgive you this time.”

I can feel the tears of before starting to sting my eyes again, and I wipe my face angrily, upset with the fact that I do not have better control of my emotion. Mascara coats the back of my hand in a thin, streaky layer, “I don’t want him to.” I confess, “I am so awful.”

“No,” Lexi moves slowly to my bed, perching herself beside me and resting a hand against my legs, “You’re not awful, you’re just in love.”
“I’m not in love.” I fervently deny her accusation, knowing that no matter how much I feel for Trent, it will never be love. 

“It's an obsession. I crave him�" it destroys me.” Lexi nods silently, hand stroking my leg, stiff with anxiety. Her acrylic nails send chills through my body as she draws patterns against my pants, and I cry in comfort, my best friend watching, her presence becoming a stabilizer to me.

After allowing me to sob into the silence for a few moments Lexi stiffens, hesitant to speak. She clears her throat finally, “I told Marcus to stop pursuing you, that you would never be into him.” 

“Thank you,” I mouth to her, because my voice is too choked by tears to be genuinely audible.

“Anytime.” She squeezes my knee before hopping off my bed and heading over to her own half of the room, beginning to get ready for bed. “Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight Lexi,” I muster a faint smile, and blow my friend a kiss.

Lexi catches it in her hand and tucks it safely into her bra, close to her heart. “Goodnight Brookie.” She smiles before turning out the lights, climbing into her bed with a full face of makeup and unbrushed teeth.

Author's Note

Please share any critiques and potentail edits with me-- I would greatly appreciate it!