The Jesters Fool- Chapter 15

High school senior Brooke Taylor navigates an unexpectedly tumultuous year filled with death, secrecy, and decaying friendships

The worst thing about the time between Halloween and Thanksgiving is the end of soccer season. 6am practices on a crunchy, frost covered field is not my ideal start to the day. I always go without breakfast, eating early in the morning always makes me feel sick. So my head is light, my body is cold, and my limbs are stiff. And that’s how the Timberline girls soccer team starts our mornings three days out of the week.

Through the fog of the morning I see that someone has beat me out to the field today. It’s unusual for any of the girls to beat me outside, especially when they’re all loitering in the cafeteria, unwilling to step out into the cool early winter air. Whoever it is, is standing over by the far goal, wearing all black. She either has her face covered by her hair, or she is turned away from me, and she is wearing baggy clothes so I can’t  tell who it is by stature. “Good  morning,” I call out, hearing the footsteps of a few of the other girls as they start heading to the field from behind me. 

I stop in the middle of the field, but through the fog and my blurry morning vision, I still can’t make out who’s across the pitch. I figure it’s someone from the community nearby, it’s not completely unusual for people to use our fields when we’re not practicing, and I’m sure no one suspected 27 high school girls to wake up before 6am to play soccer on a frosted over grass. I start leading warmups while Coach goes over to kindly inform the visitor that the area is about to be occupied.

As we begin our routine leg warm ups I hear a muffled scream, and I turn to see Donley staggering back, “You okay Coach?” I call, beginning to run towards her, to make sure she’s alright.

“Brooke!” Her voice is a shriek, “Stay back! I don’t want anyone seeing this!” 

“Seeing what?” I force down a breath. After Lexi’s death, not much else can phase me�" I believe.

“It’s Aaron. The one from the guys team.”

“What’s wrong with him?” I take a few hesitant steps closer.

“Brooke, please do not come any closer!” She yells at me again. “Aarons dead. I don’t want you to see.”

A chill creeps through me. A chill that haunts me�" maybe it’s his spirit coming back, still pissed at me for rejecting his kiss last night. “Dead?” This can’t be real. Last night I heard his voice, felt his living presence, his warm lips as they tried to steal against mine. “I saw him yesterday, how is he dead?”

“He’s hanged himself.” Donley finally walks over to me, her body trembling. “This poor school, what is happening here?”

We walk back to center field together, all eyes of the team on the two of us. A teenage girl and barely older woman both completely shaken by devastation. The girls all heard our conversation of course, but Donley repeats to them anyways: “Aaron Rashid is over there. He is not alive. It looks like he hanged himself�" please do not speculate why, it’s disrespectful to the deceased.” No one moves, we all hold our breaths in unison, “Go. Practice is cancelled. Take long, hot showers, skip class if you need to.”

The girls slowly turn, silence still heavy around them, the wind coming louder than any of their whispers. “You need to go too, Brooke.” Coach puts her arm around me, seeing that I am more shaken than the other girls, “I know this must be so hard, especially after Lexi, but it will be okay.”

“Coach,” My voice breaks, as I begin to confide in her, “He came to my room last night. He was drunk, he smelled really strongly of alchol. He told me he loved me. I told him to leave.”

“Did he seem aggressive?” Donley asks, searching my face for answers that I don’t have inside of me to give.

“He kissed me, but when I pushed him off he left. He seemed controlled.”

“You poor girl.” She shakes her head slowly, “Please know this isn’t your fault.”

I stand in a hot- or as hot as they get- shower, in the girls soccer locker room, numbly listening to the buzz of excitedly-scared teenage girl voices. Headmistress Romanovs voice cuts over the speakers at exactly 7:49 AM, as water soaks into my hair.  “Students.” She addresses, and I can hear the way her lips are drawn taught through her tone, “Classes are cancelled until further notice. We will gather for an emergency school assembly at 8:30 this morning when the first hour would traditionally be held. All of you will be expected to sign in outside of the auditorium. Anyone not present will be put on immediate suspension, or could face expulsion depending on what their academic standing is. Thank you for your obedience and support in this unprecedented time.”

As we left the soccer field we had  been instructed to not say a word about Aaron. We were told that Romanov would address the school before we spread any unintentional rumors. Only a few whispers, that I could hear, were spoken about the situation, and they were stopped quickly, as the speaker would be given a dirty look. Following the murder of Lexi, the students of Timberline had learned to have a reverence and respect around the topic of death, especially the unwarented and tragic ones.

“Hey Brooke, do you mind if I walk to the assembly with you?” Elizabeth asks, as I pull a shirt over my head, after sitting in a secluded corner of our locker room for 20 minutes after my shower. “I’m pretty shaken up right now, and I’m sure you’re not doing any better.”

“I think I would fall on my face if I tried to walk there alone right now,” I try to offer her a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. She matches my expression, as she interlocks our fingers, and we walk down the hallway hand in hand. A feeling of feminine companionship and comfort that I haven’t felt since Lexi died, starting to fill me. 

We join the line outside the auditorium of students slowly filing in. I pop off my phone case and pull out my ID, scanning it on a magnetic strip once we reach the doors, then I stick it back into my case for safe keeping, and follow Elizabeth into an empty row. I close my eyes, dropping my head between my knees. I only look up when I feel a strong hand on my back. I meet Trents troubled eyes.

“Hey, do you know what this is all about?” He asks, drawing small circles with his fingertips against my tense back.

“Yeah, I do.” I bite my lip, unwilling to elaborate despite the confused look he gives me. 

Marcus, who is sitting next to Trent, leans across him. Marucs’ eyes are red but I think from a lack of sleep, and for once not the overuse of drugs. “Brooke, what’s going on?” He whispers.

I just shake my head, keeping my eyes ahead, and allowing my back to slowly relax from Trents touch. Even if I tried to form words, they wouldn’t come out right. It’s better for me to just stay silent, Marcus will unfortunately learn the reason for this meeting soon enough.

Romanov walks onto stage as the 8:30 bell rings. She stands, head bowed, hands folded in prayer until the tone ends. She then looks around the assembled students, shaking her head slowly. “This is a sad day. A tragic event joining in with the attrocities our school has faced this year.” I steal a breath as Trents hand stills, and rests heavy against me, the distress reposessing my body, stronger than before. “In our senior class, we have lost the life of yet another valued student.” 

Gasps break out throughout the auditorium, a sob breaking free from one of the girls behind me, and when I turn my head, I see it is Mackenzie, Aarons sister. My heart breaks for her. She will have to listen to the announcement of her brother's death yet again, this time as she is surrounded by the rest of her peers. 

Am I selfish? For letting these deaths affect me so much�" for not even so much as thinking about the other people impacted? Their other friends, their families. And yet I feel like they’re surrounding me. “Marcus,” I whisper in a voice so quiet so that Mackenzie will not hear and think that I’m insensitive, turning around to face him, “I’m so scared.” He places a firm hand on my shoulder, giving me a slight, reassuring squeeze. “I feel like all of these deaths are surrounding me.”

For a moment, Marcus’ face contorts, a grimace forming on his lips, and his eyes creasing at the corners. “I’m sure they’re not.” He tries to comfort me, but now that he thinks about it, what if he sees the strange connection too. The nights before their deaths, I had an argument with both of the deceased. “I’m here to protect you.” Is all that he says. Which is not much at all in the way of reassurance.

My heart is heavy�" because what if, somehow�" this is all my fault. I’m not a murderer, and I don’t think that I prompted a man to suicide. But I have the guilt of two innocent deaths weighing on my conscience. 

“Although, Aarons death appeared to be self-inflicted,” Romanovs voice finally drowns out my thoughts, “Upon police investigation, there is the question of another murder.” The room goes silent. An auditorium full of hundreds of kids, and not one of them has anything at all to say. Because in what world would a teenager expect to find out that there is a serial killer living among them? In what world would sheltered rich kids expect to be warry of their lives when attending a prestigious boarding school. No one thought that daddy's money would fail to buy security good enough to prevent a string of murders from occuring in their high school. 

The collective silence of Timberline becomes unnerving, and the campus heaves a sigh of relief as the headmistress continues, “Each student is to remain in their dorm rooms. Doors must remain locked, until someone from faculty comes to walk you to their parents car when they arrive to pick you up. Classes are cancelled for the rest of the semester. We will continue our investegation in compliance with the Ely Police Department. God willing, we will return for a safe and productive second semester. However, shall our leads run cold, it would not be safe for all of you to be here. So please consider looking into backup schools, should for some reason�" our search be unsuccessful.” 

Everyone looks around in stunned silence. School is done�" maybe forever. Maybe Timberline will have to close! 

“What if my roommate is the murderer?” Trent asks, warrily, his joke landing flat. “I just have to lock myself in a room with him?” Marcus stiffens, upset by the comment.

“That’s not funny, man.”

“Yeah?” Trent counters, obviously annoyed, “And your the authority on humor over here?”

“Class clown, man.” Marcus scoffs. He’s had his senior superlative locked in since we were freshman. Now, if school closes, he’ll never get it imortalized.

“Come on, Marcus, it’s not like he was accusing you. You guys are on opposite ends of the hallway,” Elizabeth tries to break the uncomfortable silence that has settled. 

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes and Trent glares at him slightly. 

A crackling noise once again silences the room as Romanov brings the microphone to her lips, “Proceed to your dorms now, please.” Her voice, although oddly controlled for the panic she must be feeling, holds a hint of pleading within it. “Do not enter anyone else’s dorms. Stay in your own rooms. And I will remind you one final time�" do not open the door for anyone who is not a faculty member. Thank you.”  She goes quiet, and the seats of the auditorium folding up as students stand is really the only noise besides a few whispered conversations.

The shock of death is so poignant, it has muted our campus. It has caused a dread around the cancelling of our classes. A fear so deep, people are too afraid to walk closely to their peers. Even long established friends refuse to be in step with one another. Kids eye their roommates warily, as they depart for the same location.

Two students dead, and not a single clue as to who is the killer. Male, female, townies, or a dorm dweller. No one feels safe, perhaps they will never feel safe again.

I part a sea of students as I stand outside of the dorm building. Everyone splits around me, desperate to get in, wanting some semblance of  safety. I just stand outside for God knows how long, too sullen to enter. I have to go inside, lock myself in a room where I will be alone�" the room where my best friend died besides me. I will flinch at every sound, and shudder whenever a trea branch taps against my window. Death has surrounded me�" it’s only reasonable to feel that I am somewhere in this circle of potential victims. 

A hand gently cups around my shoulder, solid like a mans, but too ginger to be Marcus. I turn, eyes falling on Trent. “Hey,” I breathe, air getting trapped in my chest.

“Brooke.” The way he says my name makes me blush, “Can we talk for a minute, before we’re quarantined from eachother?” I nod, slowly and follow him behind the building. With a dense overgrowth of trees, and poor lawn-keeping, the odds that anyone will come looking for us back here are very slim. We are completely alone, and given the circumstances, that should probably worry me. But because I had loved him briefly, and known him for so long, I feel completely safe. How could someone whom you have shared deep feelings with plot ill for you?

“You know, at homecoming…” He starts.

I turn my tired gaze from him. I knew he had wanted to talk about it, but he  needed to pull me away from safety to do it? “I humiliated myself, Trent. I ruined my friendship with Marcus. My best friend died that night. Yes�" I know homecoming.”

“I just�"” He stutters, feeling ashamed, the reality of the situation being put into perspective to him. “I wanted you to know that I liked you.”

We suck in a heavy breath, in unison. “You liked me? Then?”

“Yes.” His voice is quiet.

“Why wouldn’t you kiss me then?” I sound more hurt than I am, honestly after weeks away from him, my feelings towards that aspect of homecoming night have lightened a considerable bit.

“I couldn’t kiss you Brooke.”
“Clearly.”

“I couldn’t kiss you because Marucs made me swear I wouldn’t do anything with you.” His confession falls off his lips in an almost foreign language. I knew that Marcus wanted me, but to make his best friend promise to leave me alone is crazy. “He didn’t seem like himself anymore. He was really, like, aggressive, when he made me promise. I just, I couldn’t break it. Not in front of him.”

“And so when I kissed him after you turned me down, that’s why he got so angry?”

“I’m assuming.” He looks at me gently for a moment. “What happened that night, Brooke?” 

“He was just mad. He grabbed my arm, hard. He left such a nasty bruise. But he didn’t mean it. And now, I know why he was so upset so…” My defense for him rolls off my tongue so naturally.

“That’s scary, Brooke. How do you feel safe with him?”

“He’s my best friend, Trent. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” He shrugs. With a deep breath, he leans in and kisses me. I pull away quickly. And although this is all I thought I wanted, I realize that I have no feelings for him. Perhaps too many stolen kisses from Marcus have corrupted me.

“What was that?” I press the back of my fingers against my mouth, almost hoping to wipe the memory of the kiss away.

“I just thought, maybe you still had feelings for me.”

I shake my head slowly, “No. Not right now, I don’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” He quickly apologizes.

“It’s fine, Trent. Let’s forget about this, forget about homecoming and any promises you were cornered into. None of that matters.” A melancholy feeling settles over me, after giving myself closure after years of wanting him. “We need to get inside, Trent. I don’t want to get locked out here.”

“After you,” He nods, smiling polietly, and guiding me out from behind the building. 

Nobody is in the lobby of the dorms when we enter. Nobody except Marcus, who’s eyes darken as he watches Trent follow behind me. “The two of you should have been in here already.” Marcus says, contempt in his voice.

“We just needed to have a quick conversation,” I walk past him, towards the stairs.

“What do the two of you need privacy to talk together for?” He follows me quickly, and Trent quickly catches up to him, ready to defend our honor.

“I was just apologizing for homecoming,” I try to force a smile. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t embarrass him.”

Marcus stops walking, and stares up at me before his hand darts out and grabs my wrist, pulling me back down a step. His grip is strong, but not so hard that he will bruise me this time. “Apologizing to him? You think you embarrassed him?” He laughs as he says it. “Brooke, you humiliated me! You made me look like a fool!”

“Come on man,” Trent breaks in, cutting the heavy tension settling around us. 

“It’s alright, Trent. I do owe him an apology for that night too.” I glance at him, and offer a small smile, “You can go up to your room, we’ll be alright out here.” He gives me an ‘Are you sure?’ look and I nod, prompting him up the stairs.

“Did he tell you anything else?” Marcus almost whispers, and I can hear the thick anger in his voice.

“Yes! And how dare you interfere in my life like that Marcus!” He looks taken aback that I would snap like that at him.

“I wanted you Brooke, is that so wrong?”

“When it prevents me from making my own romantic choices�" it is!” I pause for a moment, feeling tears come to my eyes, “Especially when if you hadn’t done that, maybe I would have come to love you on my own.” I feel used, maybe my feelings for Marcus weren’t forced, maybe they were all masterfully manipulated by him.

“Do you love me Brooke?” I don’t answer. I’ve told him no too many times to feel like it is worth repeating myself again. Instead, I march up the stairs. Marcus, hopeless, stays frozen in place. 

Author's Note

Okay, we are nearing our final chapter, so please leave me as many critiques and points I can improve as possible! Thank you :)