195note1: it's been over one year since i last updated! the date was kind of what spurred me into writing again. it's been so long, but the clique is still so dear to my heart. here's another chapter. all three POVs for your reading pleasure.
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get me off of this; i need confidence in myself
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massie;
Massie woke the next day to the soft warmth of the morning sun drifting across her bedroom. She could only ever sleep in complete darkness, so it took a moment for her to realize that someone had forgotten to draw her curtains. Inez might also have opened them for her early in the morning, anticipating that she would have been up by now though, so she didn't begrudge her maid. Normally, Massie wouldn't have minded waking up to the sunlight, but today her skin already felt warm to the point of clammy.
Her lips felt chapped, her jaw ached, and her throat burned.
If she had any energy left, she would have wondered how she ended up back in her house, in her bed, but she didn't.
For hours, Massie lay exactly where she was, flat on her stomach, and watched the sun move across her bedroom floor until it reached her legs and traveled up her body.
She didn't make any moves to draw back her curtains so that she could go back to sleep, but neither did she make any moves to get up.
Her entire being felt numb.
She wondered for a moment how something that could bring her so high could bring her so down. Her stomach rumbled. Massie couldn't even remember the last time she ate, but the taste of bile lingering in her throat and the smell of alcohol lingering on her dress ruined whatever appetite she might have had.
Wanting to feel the sun on her back, Massie lifted her hand to brush her hair away, but her hand shook with the effort. For some reason, the sight of her frailty made her want to cry. She lowered her hand and clenched it into a fist slowly so she didn't have to see. The sight of her weakness triggered a twinge inside her chest.
Her memories were coming back to her, slowly.
She'd done it again.
Her memories of last night were punctuated with fleeting pictures, passing feelings.
The country club floor carpet pressed roughly against her face. The sensation of being shaken awake and the sight of Kemp's frantic eyes. The scent of blood and alcohol and bile up her nose. The feeling of a cold hard toilet against her face as Derrick tugged her hair back. The texture of Derrick's soccer jersey against her skin when he leaned over her in the tub. The feel of warm water bathing her skin, against her body, down her hair, on her face.
Massie squeezed her eyes shut. That hadn't happened last night. That was last summer.
Her memories were merging. It was all blurring.
Massie forced herself to focus on the present. On the now.
Only, right now, there was only the overwhelming sense of loss, of emptiness. She didn't know exactly what happened last night, but she did know that she was alone and that her head was bare. She hadn't accepted a crown.
She'd lost.
Massie pressed her face down hard against her pale down comforter, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She sucked in a breath of fluff—inhaling the faint scent of her own hairspray and the lavender of her maid's laundry soap—and choked midway. The numbness had fractured, only to be replaced with a sharp burning in her chest and a sting in her eyes.
Her moment of weakness could be forgiven. There was only so much a person could take.
The vibration of her phone on her bedside table buzzed across her self-pity party. Massie forced herself to sit up and pull herself together. Hating herself for giving in to her emotions and honestly a bit grateful for the interruption, Massie wiped her face and reached over for her phone. The screen read 'Liz Goldman'. She cleared her throat and picked up right before it went to voicemail.
"Hello?" she croaked. She cleared her throat again.
"Hey Massie," Liz's nasally voice breathed through her speaker.
"Hey," Massie forced herself to say back. She had no idea what this call could be about. Something must have happened last night for Liz of all people to be calling her. They might interact sometimes through the Council, but Massie knew Liz would probably have given up her proclaimed gymnastic skills before calling her voluntarily after what happened with her best friend, Becca Wilder.
"It's Dean Wiseman," Liz answered her unvoiced question.
Oh. Massie raked a hand across her mused hair and rubbed her throat, wishing for water. It wasn't that she was particularly worried, just exasperated. She didn't have the energy to deal with Dean Wiseman today. He was hopeless. He needed Massie to guide him through every single procedure and freaked out over any potential incidents. Massie was starting to get fed up having to hold his hand through everything. He asked for her almost every day.
"What's going on?" she asked, already dreading having to fix whatever problem had occurred while she was out of it last night.
"Do you remember anything from last night?" Liz asked her impatiently.
Massie narrowed her eyes at her tone. No one spoke to her like that. Still, she couldn't deny that last night was a bit of a blur. But it would be a cold day in hell before she admitted anything of the sort to Liz.
"I remember a bit," she finally gritted out.
"Well, you missed the Homecoming announcements. You were supposed to organize the Court, present the crown to the winner, and be on hand for any incidents, but you weren't. Wiseman called your phone about fifteen times, but you never picked up."
Massie digested this for a moment before she realized that Liz was fishing for a response.
"So?" she finally snapped, completely fed up. The pounding in her head hadn't receded.
Realizing that Massie wasn't playing around, Liz hurried to finish. "He discovered that the punch had been spiked, that students were drinking, and basically blew it on stage." Massie froze, but Liz powered through this time. It seemed like she couldn't get the words out fast enough. "He received an anonymous tip that you were one of the students drinking."
"What?"
"He said that it was the only explanation as to how you could have been so irresponsible. He said that alcohol must have been the only explanation as to why you, as Student Body President, could have disrespected him and all of Westchester Prep like that."
Massie felt her jaw unhinge. There was absolutely no way Dean Wiseman would have said something like that about her.
"Since he's fixing your mistakes and consequently making his own decisions now," Liz snapped, obviously referring to Dean Wiseman's decision to remove Becca as student council president, which she correctly attributed to Massie's influence, "after last night's events, he's decided to crack down on the school's recreational drug and alcohol use. As a result of this, he can't possibly let what happened at Homecoming yesterday slide. He asked me to call you personally… to let you know that he's asking you to step down as Student Body president. Effective immediately."
An incredulous laugh bubbled out before Massie could stop it. "You can't be serious."
"Oh," Liz replied cruelly. "I am. I'm totally serious. He called me this morning and told me. He asked me to break the news to you."
This couldn't be happening. It was too early, too much, too fast. Massie couldn't bring herself to think of anything witty to say in response. Her entire life was falling apart. It seemed to be one thing after another. Again and again and again.
Her chest was burning again. Massie fisted a hand over her heart, wondering if she was having another panic attack.
"You know, I would almost feel sorry for you," Liz continued through the phone. Masse was no longer listening. Her ears were ringing and her heart was in her throat and it was all she could do to keep it together again. God, how low had she sunk? Fighting for control in front of a LBR like Liz. "…If this wasn't almost a repeat of what happened to Becca. It's almost like karma. What comes around goes around, right, Massie?"
Liz's taunt snapped her out of it.
She took in a deep breath.
"No," she finally said. "This is nothing like what happened with Becca."
There was silence on the line. Liz must be wondering why she was so calm.
Because Massie wasn't going to just accept what society had to say about her. She wasn't going to accept her supposed lot in life, her condemnation with supposed dignity, and recede meekly from the spotlight to make it easier on everyone. She wasn't going to suck it up, give up, give in. Massie wasn't going to take it, on her knees, shamed.
No way.
There was no universe where Massie wasn't fighting her way up. No universe where Massie wasn't already on top.
She smirked. "I wasn't drinking last night."
"That's not what Dean Wiseman thinks," Liz finally replied, anxiety flickering in her tone.
As Liz's fear built, Massie felt hers recede. Her heart raced again, but in a completely different way. The way it always did before something big. Something built up and tore down with just a few words and a flick of her hair, with red lips and a flash of a smirk. She sat up a bit straighter, pulled herself together a bit more.
"Oh, we'll see about that," Massie told her. She smiled wickedly. "Thanks for this call, Liz. As just the messenger, I'll cut you some slack. I know there's no way you could have turned down doing to dirty work for Wiseman, Being a follower is just in your nature. But as for being the rat, you'll be lucky with just a charge of libel from me."
Liz gasped. "I didn't—"
"Didn't you?" Massie interrupted carelessly.
"No—I—" Liz stuttered in a rush. "I'm not a rat. I didn't say any—I didn't tell Wiseman that you were drinking."
Hook. Line. Sinker. Even Liz knew she was done for if she was branded a nark.
"If not you, then who?" she asked.
"Claire Lyons," Liz practically shouted. She couldn't seem to shift the blame fast enough. She might have been willing to do Wiseman's dirty work, but she drew the line at taking the fall for something like this. Even she knew Massie's wrath was a dangerous thing. Massie would have smiled if her heart wasn't suddenly pounding a mile a minute. The tightness in her head became a hundred times more painful. "Claire told Wiseman you must have been a few of the students drinking too, after—after he caught Dylan—"
Massie didn't even know why she was surprised. She fought past the anger building inside her like thunder, the heat rushing through her veins like fire, and tried to think calmly. She already had her next steps; she already knew what she had to do.
Massie stood up from bed slowly. She had gotten what she wanted and everything she needed. She was done wasting her time with Liz Goldman. It was best to let her fester in her growing terror anyway. Massie hit the end call button and tossed her phone back onto the bed.
She was done wallowing in dark thoughts and depressing self-pity. It had to be all action now.
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derrick;
Derrick leaned back further in his seat on the terrace bench and took a long drag from the blunt in his hand. The courtyard terrace overlooked the house grounds, providing a view that could have almost relaxed him if he was in the right state of mind for it. He wasn't. Derrick exhaled and watched the haze of smoke obscure his view.
Homecoming week was finally over, but he wasn't looking forward to the shit show that Monday morning at school was going to be.
He resolved not to think about it at all until then. He took another hit.
Derrick choked on his exhale when the terrace doors slammed open, hitting the back wall with a bang.
His stepmother, Kendra Block, stood at the entrance to their backyard. Derrick's eyes watered from the smoke in his lungs and throat. He quickly placed his head down between his knees to try to hold in his coughs. Derrick choked again and sucked in a breath at the burning in his throat.
He had forgotten this feeling. He hadn't choked on a hit since he was a freshman. Derrick dropped the still lit blunt to the ground and kicked it down the extended balcony columns, hopefully into the cobbled path below and not the grass.
Fuck. What a waste.
His stepmother, Kendra Block, had the same sharp eyes as her daughter Massie, and an even crueler disposition.
"Derrick," she greeted when he finally looked up again.
Luckily, he was saved from responding when his stepmother continued, "There you are. Your father and I have been home almost an hour. Come in and greet us. Your father wants to see you in the study."
Derrick flinched at being reprimanded, and then fought the urge to scowl. Kendra wasn't his father's first companion since the death of his mother, but she was his first marriage since. Kendra was the only one who he didn't consider a complete bimbo. She came with her own fortune and she was the only one who was even close to his father's age. She was also the only one with a daughter in his grade, and the only one who moved in and completely transformed his childhood home.
She wasn't his mother though.
Derrick grunted in response. He got up from his chair casually and slowly slipped by her into the house without a real greeting to her. He felt a thrill in his stomach when he felt her glare burn into his retreating back at his blatant disrespect.
The temporary thrill in his stomach turned into an uncomfortable clench when he stopped at the doors to his father's study. Why hadn't his dad told him he was coming home today? More importantly, why hadn't Block?
He dismissed the thought of his stepsibling quickly. Fuck, he needed that blunt. He pushed open the study door without knocking.
His father was facing his computer screen, blatantly ignoring his open study door and his son standing in the doorway. Despite the fact that this was par the course, Derrick felt a flush crawl up his chest. His fingers were starting to tingle from the aborted hit he took. He stepped further into the room just to prove a point.
His father probably hadn't even been expecting him. It would just be like his stepmother to lie.
He stepped over to the bar in the corner and fixed up some drinks. He poured some Macallan and a splash of water into two glasses and approached his father.
At the presentation of drinks, Charles Harrington finally looked up. He didn't bother with a greeting either; he launched straight into the heart of the matter.
"What's this drama I'm reading about your Homecoming?" his father asked him, gesturing at the email the Headmaster must have sent out just this morning. Derrick sneered. That was quick. Of course. It figures that something like this would come up the exact time his parents came home. Why would they choose Homecoming weekend of all weekends to arrive back? And of course, his father would pick tonight of all nights to pretend to start giving a shit about his life.
His father took a long swig of his scotch. Derrick watched him dispassionately. Apparently, he didn't see the irony.
"It's nothing," he tried to brush off, "a few students were drunk in front of Wiseman, so he pitched a fit."
The whole thing was so stupid, it was mind numbing. He doubted there was a night anywhere in Westchester where someone was drunk or high or—
"Apparently, the police found drugs as well," Charles cut in.
Derrick placed his drink down on his father's desk.
Suddenly, the situation was a lot more serious.
"Some students were discovered in possession," Charles told him, draining the rest of his drink and reaching over for Derrick's. Derrick stood frozen as his brain processed this. Discovered? The police? "They're going to start mandatory drug testing at the Academy next week."
Derrick felt his stomach swoop.
"That's bullsh—"
Charles leveled a dark look at him. His father's earlier casual demeanor had faded and replaced with something that was not to be messed with. Derrick shut his mouth at the implied threat.
"I already sent an email agreeing with this course of action," his father told him, standing up and brushing off his suit. Derrick's mind absolutely boggled at the complete hypocrisy. His jaw almost dropped.
'You've got to be fucking kidding me.'
"I didn't think I'd have to warn you, again, to tread carefully."
Derrick burned red hot at the bullshit spewing from his father. He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw to hold himself back.
"Now, come," Charles told him from the doorway. "Let's get this meet and greet dinner over with."
Derrick willed his breathing to slow back down, as he wracked his brain for a reason to excuse himself from the torture of another night of masquerading as a pretend-family with his father, stepmother, and stepsister, who would undoubtedly be sucked into the same boat as him by her harpy of a mother. With everything that was currently going on in his life, he'd probably kill someone. Maybe himself.
"Meet and greet?" he asked.
"The new girlfriend you're insisting we meet," Charles supplied as he headed down the hall.
Derrick whipped his head up. What the fuck?
Derrick followed his father into the hallway, feeling a different kind of dread pooling in his stomach. If he hadn't been so off kilter, he would have picked up on all of this a lot sooner. He should have known something like this was coming. It was probably the exact reason Block hadn't told him their parents were coming home today.
Derrick gripped the stair banister and looked down their extended balcony to the foyer, confirming his suspicions.
His stomach clenched uncomfortably again. It was Claire, standing at his estate entrance, shyly handing her coat off to Kendra's maid, Inez.
Derrick gnashed his teeth together.
Massie. This was Block's doing. He just knew it.
At the same moment the realization hit him, Claire looked up and met his eyes. Her surprise at seeing him widened her bright blue eyes and stretched her pink lips into a slow smile.
Everything about Claire Lyons was warm—from her pale pink dress, to her light blonde hair, to her sweet smile.
Just looking at her softened his anger.
The door to his stepsister's bedroom opened and Derrick cut his eyes away from Claire to Massie from down the hall. She had come out at the sound of the doorbell, and was mirroring his position, observing Claire. From her position though, she remained unseen by anyone but him.
Massie's amber eyes met his and held them.
Derrick could physically feel the unspoken words charging the air around them, settling heavy inside his gut. His heart warred with indecision when she stepped closer. Wearing an all black dinner dresses that hugged every curve, Derrick was once again reminded that his stepsister was the polar opposite of Claire Lyons.
As if to highlight herself as the perfect counterpoint to her, Massie was all harsh lines, red lips, and sharp eyes.
If Claire was warm, then Massie could only be cold.
Ice Queen personified.
It was Derrick's first time seeing her since Homecoming. Their time apart had not been long enough. Neither had the distance and the out-of-sight, out-of-mind mentality he had been trying to adopt curbed any of his anger at her. It all came slamming back into him without a moment's notice.
If Derrick were sane, he would hate her.
Instead, he was half hard just meeting her eyes.
"You did this," he accused, gripping the banister tightly.
"Maybe," Massie demurred, gliding her hand along the same banister on the opposite end. "You've never had a steady girlfriend before. It's a momentous occasion. So, enthusiasm, Harrington! I know it's in there somewhere. Find it and try it out."
Massie walked down the stairs slowly, apparently intent on making a grand entrance. He followed her.
"Oh, I'm ecstatic," he snarled, following closely behind her heels, "for everything to come crashing down around you. I hope you know that you're playing with fire, and if I burn, you burn with me."
Massie raised a skeptical brow at his words.
Oh, but he meant them.
She had no idea how much he meant them.
Derrick exhaled through his nose slowly. There was no use stewing over something that he couldn't help. What was the point in stressing over something he couldn't control? None of this was anything he couldn't handle. One day at a time; one thing at a time.
The muscles in his body slowly relaxed and he huffed a laugh. "I figured you hated her guts, but to subject her to dinner with our parents?" That was fucked up, even for her. He wouldn't have done that to his own worst enemy.
Massie flashed him a wry grin over her shoulder. If he hadn't known better, he'd have said she looked almost regretful. But he did. He knew Block. Nothing curbed her when she was like this. At any perceived slight, she returned it tenfold. She wasn't satisfied until all her rivals were ruined, crushed, and buried so deep there was no hope of climbing back out of the hole that was Westchester's high society.
She was never satisfied.
He used to like that about her. Block was relentless; she never gave up. She wasn't afraid to call anyone out on their shit and never let anyone get away with demeaning her. She gave as good as she got. There was no situation she couldn't handle; nothing she couldn't take care of.
Block thought she was fearless, and in many ways, she was.
But in some ways, she wasn't.
"Like I said," Massie tilted her head at him with a slow smile. "A special occasion. Don't you want our parents to meet your girlfriend?"
"It's not that special. I've had girlfriends before," Derrick corrected her.
"Never like Claire Lyons, you haven't," Massie shot back. Derrick couldn't tell if she was excited or bitter about it. Knowing Block, it could even have been both. "When have you ever dated exclusively? Taken a girl to Homecoming? To meet your parents?"
Derrick narrowed his eyes. That was all organized by her.
He reached over and nudged her chin. "I guess you're right. It can't really be helped. Who really needs to date when you can just cut straight to the win? What's the point when girls are so easy to please… before you even have to please them?"
"Disgusting," Massie snapped, but her eyes were twinkling like she was trying hard not to laugh. She stopped before reaching the bottom step and smiled at Claire with that same practiced good-girl smile she used on their teachers, on their parents, on the school. He hated that smile.
Claire smiled back.
"Careful," he told her as he passed her. "You're included in that category."
Massie crossed her arms over her chest and widened her eyes at him. If Claire wasn't watching their interactions like a hawk and trying to listen in, she would have been glaring. "We dated in middle school," she snapped under her breath.
He grinned deviously. "I didn't mean that category. I think we both know which one you fall under."
Derrick knew he hit his mark when there was a deadened silence from Massie. Derrick stepped around his stepsister and reached out to Claire. Maybe he could convince her to skip the dinner completely. No one deserved to be subjected to the torture that was their family dinners.
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claire;
Massie and Derrick's home was a literal mansion. Claire could say that with absolute certainty from just standing in their front foyer, but of course, like everything else is Westchester, it was all substance, no soul.
She'd seen most of their house the last time she was here. It was all the same. No family pictures, no family mementos. There was nothing to indicate that the Harringtons or the Blocks spent any time in the house together, only recently dusted antiques that probably haven't been touched by any of them in years. Nothing to indicate a real living breathing, close-knit family lived here.
Suddenly, with an agonizing ache, she yearned for her own home back in Florida. She missed her father and her brother so much it was a physical hurt deep in her chest.
Derrick's warm brown eyes were the only thing holding her ashore.
"Derrick," she breathed when he came down the stairs and swept her up into a hug. "Hi."
"Hi," he grinned back. His smile had a bit of a bite to it, but Claire was slowly realizing that he got like this sometimes. His home life, his parents, and his stepsister were all sensitive topics that twisted his smile from joyful to sardonic and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.
She was standing at the heart of everything that made Derrick uncomfortable.
She let Derrick put his arm around her and lead her into a sitting room.
"Okay," he said, once they were secluded enough. "What did she say to get you to come tonight?"
Claire took a seat on one of the chaise lounges and tucked her hair behind her ears. She knew exactly who he was referring to, but she couldn't resist the urge. "Who?" she asked, even though she knew perfectly well.
"Block," Derrick stressed.
Massie. Of course he was talking about Massie. Claire felt a flush of something unidentifiable crawl over her. Massie Block seemed to be tied to Claire in every conceivable way. There was no escaping her. Claire was standing under her roof. Claire was holding her stepbrother's hand. Claire was barely on equal footing with her even as Council President. Massie Block was also all anyone could talk about, the Council, the Board, her peers, Dean Wiseman.
It was implied that she was probably one of the many students drinking at Homecoming, but she was still somehow Student Body President.
Claire couldn't understand.
"Oh. Massie?" Claire pretended to suddenly realize. "Nothing really. She just told me your family was finally back in town and extended me an invitation to dinner." She paused for a moment, wondering if she should say more. "She mentioned that your parents really wanted to meet me."
"Of course she did," Derrick muttered under his breath. At her confused look, Derrick shot up from his seat. He took his hands in hers and squeezed. He had a feverish gleam in his eyes. "Let's get out of here."
"You mean—leave?" she asked. "Right now?"
"And miss the first dinner we'd be having as a family since the beginning of summer?" a voice cut in from the entrance to the sitting room. Derrick jerked in surprise. Claire wasn't surprised; this was Massie's house too. At the brunette's words though, Claire felt her stomach clench. That couldn't be true, could it?
How could Derrick consider leaving, even for a moment?
A moment later, Derrick's parents were sweeping into the sitting room.
"You must be Claire," Derrick's stepmother greeted, leaning in for a quick air kiss. "I'm Kendra and this is Charles. It's so wonderful to meet you. Dinner should be ready any moment now. Should we all head to the dining room?"
"What will you be having, Claire?" Charles asked from the bar where he had started mixing the drinks for them all.
"Oh, I'll just have a water," she tried to answer, but Kendra was already graciously herding them all out of the room. The main dining room was as grand as Claire expected. A too long table, distantly spaced, with dinner already prepared and laid out. Inez, who had received Claire earlier, had placed starters and soup out for them all.
Derrick had a pinched look on his face. Claire brushed her hand against his and beamed encouragingly at him. The look on his face lightened and he smiled back. Derrick pulled out her chair for her and she slid in. She couldn't read his mind and had no clue why he seemed so apprehensive. Maybe he didn't want her to meet his family? She almost offered to leave, before she remembered that she was the guest of honor. But she knew the moment she offered to go, Derrick would come too.
There was no way she was going to deprive him of time with his family after such a long time apart. She had trouble understanding his dilemma. She would have given anything to be sitting together with her family again.
Claire launched into easy greetings with Massie. She worked hard to push past her instinctual feelings and hoped that her feelings of resentment wasn't noticeable in her face. She enjoyed her warm bisque soup and worried absentmindedly about Derrick.
"What's wrong?" she whispered, when the arrival of Derrick's father with the drinks drew attention away from her. "You look really—" Claire cut herself off. How did he look? Uncomfortable? Anxious? Disturbed?
She couldn't tell because he had that mask on again. The one she hated.
"Yeah," he agreed, his mind to mouth filter on autopilot. "This fucked up family is what's wrong."
Her fingers tightened on his arm. "Derrick," she pleaded desperately.
He slid his arm from hers and grabbed the drink his father handed him. Claire watched uneasily as he chugged the alcohol. Her stomach swooped at the easy way he drained the beverage. Charles had given her alcohol too. She set the glass down on the table and didn't touch it.
Inez arrived with the main course, and Charles, Kendra, and Massie launched into discussion about their summer vacation. Claire couldn't believe that they hadn't caught up on the summer vacation talks when it was almost approaching late fall. Derrick had the same impassioned face throughout all of dinner. He and Massie updated their parents briefly on school and by the time the main course was almost done, everyone finally turned their attention to Claire.
"So Claire, where was your family from again?" Kendra asked.
"Orlando, Florida," Claire answered dutifully. "My mother and I only just moved to Westchester recently."
Charles cleared his throat loudly, chugging down his drink. He had barely touched his dinner and was flushed red from the alcohol. He gestured for Inez, who was standing nearby, for a refill. Suddenly, Derrick's face changed from impassioned to very, very tired. Across from her, Massie took a small sip of her drink.
"That's different!" Kendra turned to them with a sharp smile. "I haven't heard that one before. How are you liking Westchester so far?"
"It's very… different." Claire answered diplomatically. Massie smiled like she knew exactly what Claire meant with her ambiguous answer.
"And Westchester Preparatory Academy?" Kendra prompted. "Charles and I both graduated from there. We're very proud alumni. Have you seen the new wing in the Harrington building?"
Claire's throat itched for a drink, but she didn't reach for hers. She cleared her throat. "I actually haven't yet. Derrick never mentioned it." She cast a look at him, wondering why he never mentioned the close ties he had with the school.
Derrick reached over and took her hand under the table. Claire's heart lightened a bit at his unspoken support.
"I very much enjoy Westchester Prep," she told the table, "but I also notice a lot of things that can be improved. I'm just really glad that I have the opportunity to be able to implement and put into place those new changes."
This caught Charles' attention. "You're the new Student Council President I've been reading about?"
Claire nodded shyly.
Charles cut his eyes to Derrick sharply. Kendra cleared her throat and Massie's glass clinked when she placed it back down on the table. Claire wondered at the byplay.
"Good," Derrick's father finally said. "I hope you know what you're doing, boy. I can only hope that Claire will be a good mitigator for you after—"
Derrick finally broke. His fork clattered loudly on his plate when he dropped it. "Jesus," he cried.
Claire burned in her seat. With both confusion and curiosity.
"Charles, please," Kendra finally interjected, a few seconds too late. The table had already descended into unbearably uncomfortable silence. Massie had turned ashen and Derrick was fuming.
"No offense meant, Claire," Charles finally tried to clarify after prompting from his wife. Casting another look at his son, Charles couldn't seem to help continuing, "I only meant that there are certain things that are bound to happen twice and knowing my son's personality, I don't have much reason to believe–"
"Charles," Massie cut in, saving them all from Charles' drunken tirade. Claire was eternally grateful. "Regardless of all that, I'm sure that you didn't mean to cast aspersions on Claire's character. Claire's a great Student Council president. In fact, she's the one that proposed the idea of mandatory drug testing. We're implementing it Tuesday morning."
Claire didn't miss the fact that Massie only stood up for her. Massie never once looked in Derrick's direction, but then neither once did Derrick look in hers.
Inez set another round of drinks down at the table for them. Charles still hadn't touched his dinner, but already there were three empty glasses in front of him. Underneath the dining room table, Claire laced her fingers through Derrick's.
"Drug testing is exactly what the Academy needs, if only there was a chance in hell my son will pass," Charles announced. Derrick's hand tightened over hers painfully. Charles took another swallow of his drink and meet Claire's shocked eyes directly. "Luckily, he's dating you. My son has a lot on the line. We can't have any barriers standing in his way."
Her heart was suddenly in her throat. The entire evening was so surreal. She couldn't believe what her boyfriend's father was implying. Even Kendra or Massie didn't seem to know how to respond. Claire couldn't fathom their family dynamic.
Finally, Derrick stood up and pulled her up with him. Their hands were still interlocked.
"Where do you think you're going?" Charles asked in surprise. He looked at them completely poleaxed, as if they had just announced that they were getting married. Like, the entire affair hadn't been completely uncomfortable for everyone involved and he was surprised they were even considering leaving.
"I'm taking Claire home. She has a lot to do before school starts back up again," Derrick told them calmly. His eyes were tight, but his carefree smile was back in place. His stance and posture and tone was so casual, Claire almost questioned whether the last few hours actually happened.
Charles eyed them sharply again.
"Come right back home after. You have soccer practice tomorrow morning. You need to be on—"
"Oh, but what about dessert?" Kendra interrupted, tossing her cloth napkin down on her plate and making to stand up. Inez must have sensed her distress, because she hurried over to clear their plates. For the first time all night Massie seemed to slip from her calm demeanor, she rolled her eyes and reached over for her drink. They all knew this farce of a family dinner was over.
Claire's heart ached at the vision they all made. They were so divided, so different from her family.
She stood up and stepped closer so she was by her boyfriend's side.
"Kendra," Derrick said, still calm as storm. "Fuck dessert."
What Derrick really meant was fuck this. Fuck dinner. Fuck this fake reunion. Fuck this family. Claire didn't swear, but in this one instance, she was in complete agreement with her boyfriend. They walked out of the dining room, past the sitting room, through the foyer, and out the front door together, their hands interlocked the entire way.
.
note2: 'yeah kendra, fuck this family!' me - shouting at my computer screen as i type. thanks for reading! please review if you like.