The Jesters Fool- Chapter 11

High school senior at the prestigious Timberline Academy, Brooke Taylor, must navigate a year of death and secrecy-- and try her best to survive it.

Awkwardly I walk into the cafeteria, alone. As the door flies open before me the student body pauses, all turning to stare at me. The girl who had laid next to a dead body. The girl who had touched a corpse. The girl who was utterly alone because her best friend had died�" probably a homicide. The girl who had ‘survived’. 

Despite the frantic whispers and hungry gazes around me, all I can focus on is Marcus. My remaining best friend. The boy whose presence I need to comfort me right now. His back is to me, he probably doesn't realize I have entered. I haven’t spoken to him since homecoming, and I feel bad about avoiding him. But I haven’t spoken to anyone since then�" besides the headmistress and the cops and other various investigators, hired both by the school and Lexi's parents. Besides the endless interrogations, I have been a recluse. My life for the past three days has centered around the death of my best friend, and nothingness.

My feet drag more than fully step as I make my way over to our table. Thomas is not in his seat. I’m sure he is in his room weeping, mourning his girlfriend. Trent sees me though, he stiffens. He knows I love him, he knows what I have lost, what I have suffered. He offers me a curt nod, unsure of how else he can express his condolences to me. Marcus finally turns around, eyes settling on me. He bites the inside of his cheek as he stares me down. My knees feel weak, as I wait to see what he will do next.

“Come here,” Marcus mutters, pushing himself away from the table and wrapping me in his arms. I suddenly cannot remember the last time someone held me. I cry against his bicep, his shirt sleeve absorbing my tears the second that they leave my eyes. “We’re going to get through this, Brooke,” He comforts me, and I remember that Lexi was his best friend too. Her death impacts everything. Marcus and I will never be the same.

“I love you,” I choke out between sobs. Marcus doesn’t respond, but he does smooth my hair down. I cringe as his fingers tangle in my unmanaged curls. I haven’t showered since before the homecoming football game. 

“We’re going to skip classes today,” He informs me as he tries to work through the knots in my short hair. I wince as he pulls, he is trying to be gentle, I can tell, but it still hurts.

“I’ve already missed two days,” I counter, but I don’t argue as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and leads me out of the cafeteria. “I didn’t eat.” I observe once we are out in the cold morning air. My wet cheeks burn against the biting wind.

“I grabbed food for you already. I was going to bring it over to your dorm. I thought you were going to lock yourself in there again all day.”

Marcus stops and begins to open his backpack. I place my hand on his arm, stopping him, “I’m not hungry.” 

He gives me a quizzical look, “Alright.” He slings his bag back over his shoulder and we continue walking to my dorm. 

“Hey Marcus,” We are on the girls floor now, a few doors down from my dorm. “They offered me a new room.”

“I think you should take it.” We stop and stare at mine and Lex’s door. We stare at the welcome poster that we had stuck there together. Marcus presses one of the corners, trying to make the tape stick firmly. “I’m scared to go in here.”

“She died in my bed.” Marcus’ face goes white. I can tell there is more he wants to say, but he refrains, shaking his head sadly. “I want to stay here so that I can still feel close to her.”
I push the door open and Marcus blanches to an even lighter shade as the scent of bleach hits us. My sheets were stripped off my bed almost immediately, the blood soaked fabric being taken as evidence. The tile floors were doused in chemicals, as a team of professionals purged the room of any signs of death. I watched as Lexis' blood seemingly evaporated, the last portion of her eroding away.

“You need to take care of yourself,” Marcus tells me, helping me recall why we are here. I shake my head, already making my way over to my bed. I wrap myself beneath my brand new blankets, the warmth of them helping to thaw the pain induced by tears practically frozen to my face.

Marcus comes to the edge of my bed, scooping me into his arms; like a parent grabbing at a misbehaving child. He carries me to the jack and jill bathroom, finally setting me on my feet before the sink. He makes a face, regarding me. I do not know what he is thinking, but after a moment he leaves me alone retreating back into mine and Lexis dorm. 

With his absence, I slip my overworn hoodie over my head, before reaching to turn on the shower. “Brooke!” Marcus exclaims, I turn to see him dragging my desk chair in one hand and dramatically covering his eyes with the other. I glance down at myself, not finding my sports bra to be too revealing.

“Shut up,” I mutter, grabbing the hoodie from where I discarded it on the floor and pulling it back on. The neckline pulls on my hair, and I wince as it tugs at my tangled curls. Marcus pulls my chair up to the sink before stepping around me and shutting off the shower. I give him a quizzical look as he grabs my hand, and seats me. He cradles my head in his hands, gently tipping my chin back as he wets my hair in the sink. Thankfully my hair is short�" less knots for him to have to work through. 

Marcus grabs bottles of shampoo and conditioner from a shelf in the shower. They are Lexis, but I don’t correct him. I watch as he struggles to squeeze the product into his hands before he lathers it into my hair. “Close your eyes,” he urges, I oblige, trying to avoid the burn of the soap. “Good.” He cups his hands and releases more water over my soapy roots.

Marcus finishes and turns off the water. I stay where I am until he snakes his hand behind me, wrapping a towel around my shoulders. “Thanks.” I give him a small smile as he takes a second towel and begins to rub my hair dry. I know this will cause frizz, but I’m too tired and disheartened to correct him, so I let him take care of me how he wants. Despite his best efforts, my hair still drenched the back of my shirt. Marcus leads me out of the bathroom and grabs a clean Timberline hoodie out of my closet. I retreat back into the bathroom, switching out my clothes, before I finally migrate to my bed.

“You know it’s bad to sleep with wet hair.” Marcus perches himself on the end of my bed, resting his hand against my shin.

“Yeah, well, a lot of things are bad right now.” My face feels red and flushed as I recall Lexi's death for what feels like the millionth time. “Everything is bad.” His fingers wrap around my leg, squeezing in an almost reassuring way. 

He doesn’t answer for a moment, just looks at me in the weird way that he recently developed where he doesn’t show any emotion. “Only Lexi's death is bad.” His voice is soft while his eyes grow sharp. The juxtaposition unnerves me as he continues, “Everything else is going good.” He tries to crack a smile. I flinch.

“She was our best friend. We owe her the decency of being upset�" hurt.”

“She’s dead, Brooke�"”

He tries to continue but I cut him off with a harsh interjection, “Stop saying dead! It sounds gross.”

“It was gross. There was blood,” He pauses for a second before whispering, “You know.”

I pull myself off the bed and distance myself from him. My back pressed against the wall, I take Marcus in. The way his skinny body looks strong, his jaw is set in defiance�" as it often is when we fight. His shoulders are broader than I remember, but perhaps that is just because he is tense. “What is wrong with us?” I ask, feeling sick for the loss of both of my best friends.

“I’ve been asking myself that since you kissed me.” I gasp, my hand subconsciously going to cover my lips. They are chapped beneath my fingers, my hours of crying and the dry Minnesota air, partnered with my lack of hygiene the past few days have taken a toll on them. 

In all honesty, I had forgotten that I had kissed Marcus. Now the sensation of his lips against mine, the desperation of the moment are recalled back to me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I press my back harder against the wall, praying that the cinder rocks could just absorb my body. 

“Don’t be sorry. You know I love you.” I hold my hand up to silence him. The effort of raising my arm exerts me, and I cannot bear to look at him.

“Not right now.” My knees give out beneath me. I half expect Marcus to jump up, catch me in his arms, hold me. I half want him to. But he watches in silence as I meet the floor. My body too tired to move, I remain where I am, until after several tantalizingly long moments, Marcus finally arises, hovering above me.

“We need to talk about this.” I know he’s right. The tension between us. This unrequited love has been corrupting our beautifully pure and perfect friendship for God knows how long. I need to address it�" kill his love for me. But the idea of any other form of death is too great for me to bear. 

For now, I will foster the idea of Marcus’ love for me�" solely for the sake of preserving our friendship. I will let him down easily when I am less distressed when we have less to lose. “You know I love you too�"” I begin, but the ‘as a friend’ bit is lost as he helps me to my feet. Protective arm around my shoulders, he helps me back into my bed.

“Let's not fight anymore,” He tells me. I nod my head in agreement, feeling my eyes go heavy, as sleep begins to take over. “Promise me we won’t fight.”

There will always be conflicts between us, I think. But with my blurred vision and chapped lips and wet hair, I feel too desolate to dispute. I fall asleep with a man, who claims to be in love with me, sitting at the foot of my bed, taking me in. If I could love him too this moment could be romantic, but I cannot force my heart to want him. My heart had craved his best friend, my heart had been almost in love. Now I was too sore over Lexi’s death to even think about Trent, much less find a way to want Marcus.

Author's Note

Please leave any and all critiques and comments, your feedback is so greatly appreciated