Chapter Text
“Listen up. Here is the plan. I – “
“I don’t fucking care what the plan is, Price. I want my money.” The fork almost disappears in Frank Bowers pranks. He digs it in that disgusting brown mush in front of him and shovels it into his mouth. I don’t really understand why he is using a fork at all, as his face is almost sunk into the shit, which he called beans.
If stepshit will ever tell me again to ‘clean this pigsty’ I will show him around in Frank´s RV. He has no fucking idea what a pigsty looks like, as he clearly has never been in here. It smells like wet dog mixed with dogfood, beans heated up in the microwave and weed – which is the less nasty smell. Dishes are piled up in the sink on the left-hand side for whoever knows how long. Empty beer bottles are sitting on the only table the RV has, next to Frank´s laptop. The door to his bedroom (or whatever you wanna call it) is only ajar. I look away, as I don’t want to think about, what Frank Bowers is doing in there. I look down to my feet and see newspapers on the floor and I close my eyes for a second as I see Rachel´s face on one of them. Don’t let the pain come up. Not now, Chloe. You have to fucking focus!
I open my eyes and look directly at Frank Bowers.
“You want your money? Cool. So, listen to me”, I reply with emphasis which doesn’t allow any other answer. Nathan agreed to meet me in Blackwell. I can´t avoid that grin on my face, as that idiot doesn’t know what will await him. Guess he doesn’t think I will go that far and blackmail him. Maybe I just want to share the news with at least one person. I know that Frank couldn’t care less about high school drama. But if the plan goes wrong, it also means that he will never see his money. At least that should concern him.
He stops, the fork midway in the air. I bet my ass that his dog, whose name would be more appropriate for a porn actor, can eat well more behaved like my drug dealer.
I want to explain my plan, but before I can even say a word, he says:
“You are so not in the position to order me around, kid.” His voice his low and I get chills down my spine. “Last time I remember you owe me three thousand bucks.” He gestures to the door with his fork and loses a few of his precious beans, which fall down on the floor. “Now move your ass out of my goddamn car, get the fucking money and we are even.”
Okay, no backup here, Chloe. I didn’t expect him to be super interested in my life, but at some point I thought we were at least friends. Kinda. Or something like that. Is there even a word, when you become friendly with your drug dealer? Or if he saved you from two drunk punks in the mill while a concert? He killed his friend Damon to protect me and Rachel three years ago. Why is he such an ass now?
I am so over it. I am so over people who pretend to be there for me and then back out when I need them.
Angrily, I expelled the air I held. “Fuck you, Frank!”
He laughs bitterly. “You wish.” But he doesn’t look away. He lowers his eyes and frowns. “Are you still hanging up these posters?”
I cling to them, more than I need to. They are the wall I need between him and me. Between this disappointed feeling of being let down (again) and a person I thought was kinda a friend. What is a fallacy (again). And these posters are all I have of Rachel. Except for long gone memories that nobody can restore.
“Do you have a problem with that?”, I answer coldly.
Frank goes back to shovelling food in his mouth. With the beans in it he speaks: “Once I thought you were smart. But I doubt that nowadays.”
“Nobody asked you to rank my IQ, Bowers.”
He puts the goddamned fork down. Looks at me. There is something in his eyes, I can´t really point out. Something … that mirrors my feelings in an absolute weird way. I swallow. But that feeling stays and I press the posters closer to my body.
“Chloe.” His voice is … flat. All his anger left it. There is just … this feeling. “Stop putting these posters up. Rachel left you here to go to LA. Accept that finally.”
“Rachel. Would. Never. Leave. Without. Me.” I growl. Anger is building up inside of me and if he says one more wrong word it will set free and I can´t guarantee anything then.
Frank sighs and grabs his fork. There is something heavy in this movement. No more joy in your beans, Bowers? What's wrong? “Whatever. Get the money.”
Happy to leave the smelly RV and get out of this weird sensation I got I rush to the door and yank it open. I have never been an outdoorsy kid – at least not since I have nobody to enjoy it with anymore – but I take a lungful of fresh air, shut the door and pull my middle finger up at it. Pompidou sits next to the RV-door and looks at me like he is asking himself what I am doing. Good question, doggo.
I cross the Blackwell parking lot, hurry up the steps and find myself on the outside of the campus.
In the far away distance I can see Justin and Trevor skating and listening to music. They were always fun to hang out with. Since … I vehemently brush the thought aside. Not now, Chloe. Not now. The statue of Jeremiah Blackwell, which is build into the fountain, doesn’t look that mighty anymore. A few years back, I felt the pressure of Blackwell's leitmotif every fucking day. Future needs excellence. Such bullshit. I should have drawn more graffities on it when I had the chance to. Not that I don’t have one now, but it doesn’t give you the same thrill when you are not an active student these days, I guess. Every time I have been here since I got kicked out three years ago I am amazed that this building has no power over me anymore. It is just another shithole of Arcadia Bay. Not more, not less. I am happy that I am not a part of this entitled shit nowadays. I never fitted in, everybody made that as clear as possible.
Except for one person.
I swallow again, just as the thought of Rachel comes to my mind. And now we are entering the minefield again! Carefully, I let my view rest right before Justin and Trevor, who are sitting close to the stairs, which lead to the road. It's almost as if I could see my truck parked right at the end of the stairs. Principal Wells is approaching it, just to give me another lecture how and where to park properly (look how I parked today, asshole! Took even two handicapped parking lots!), when Rachel is running towards me, jostling around him and almost jumping into my car. I smile at that memory. She has always been that happy whirlwind. Never standing still. Always in motion. Always up to something. And I was so happy to be dragged along. To follow another one of her crazy ideas. I follow the road with my eyes, that leads up to the lighthouse – or the junkyard.
Our hideout.
I press the missing persons-posters closer to my chest. Blinking rapidly. And I can´t prevent that Frank´s words are finding their way into my brain. ‘Stop putting these posters up. Rachel left you here to go to LA. Accept that finally.’
What … if that is true? Would Rachel really leave without me? Would she do that to me? How could she? She knew how badly and desperately I needed to get out of here. Away from all the memories of Dad. My best friend Max. Away from the step-führer my mom thought was a good idea to marry.
“Fuck you, Rachel”, I mutter. I am not even strong enough to say it loudly. Because I don’t mean to. Not really. I miss this girl so fucking much. The worst thing is, all these memories feel so far away. Almost like they never happened. I was happy. I was truly happy around that time. Because I had someone, that I was important to. After Max left into the nowhere where phones and letters apparently don’t exist, Rachel was exactly what I needed. That guardian angel that helped me out of that shit. I don’t even want to dig deeper into these emotions. It was a fucking dark time.
And now she is gone.
Like Max.
Like dad.
Like everybody who mattered to me.
I hate her so much for that, she is my absolute weak point and makes me cry like a little kid every time I think about her. I straighten my posture. Lock my view with the entrance door. “You are Chloe fucking Elizabeth Price. You can do that.”
I follow the path that leads to the main entrance of Blackwell Academy. Ms. Grant, my former science teacher stands beside the stairs leading up to the wooden doors.
“Chloe. Nice to see you.” Her deep voice always calmed my inner storm. She was the only teacher I really liked. And yeah. Maybe I miss her classes sometimes. I think I could have learned a lot from her.
“Ms. Grant.” I nod in her direction, not really up for a chit-chat. I have things to do and places to be.
She points out the posters in my arm. “Hanging them up again?” Her smile is genuine and she really seems to be interested in what I do and how I feel. I feel sorry that I don’t feel like talking to her.
“As the police is hella useless and no police officer of Arcadia Bay give a shit where Rachel is, I take care of it.” To be honest, that is just one side of the coin. I hold on to the improbable hope, that Rachel will be found. And I don’t really know what else to do. Her parents gave up. The police gave up. Fuck, even Frank seems to gave up. Nobody seems to care. These posters won´t do anything. I am not that stupid to believe someone will call that number and Rachel will be back in my arms. But at least I am doing … something. And it gives me a pretext to be seen around Blackwell when I blackmail Nathan.
“You are a good friend, Chloe. I am sure that Rachel knew that.”
Uhm. We have been more than that, but I don’t need to discuss that with my ex-science teacher, I think. Also her words almost bring back the goddamned tears I want to get rid off so badly.
“Thank you”, I bring forth. “I …” I am unable to form a proper sentence and just lift the posters up wordlessly. Ms Grant nods and I feel dismissed.
I take the first step and enter the school building. When I open the door and find myself in the foyer again all of the Blackwell-ness hit me. The smell of cheap cleaning products. Hallways where nobody ever opened a window and the used up air. Chatter of students fill the long hallways, some of them are listening to music. There are the trophies from diverse sportteams and Samuel, mopping the floor, humming a tune to himself. I have been a part of this, even though I haven’t really been. And yet, I'm struck by the fact that it feels exactly like it did at that time - only minus the fear.
I don’t look to the right or left and stop right in front of the door to the bathroom. Lost in thought, I place the posters next to the door, as I don't need them in the bathroom for the time being. I remember the last time I have been in here very clearly. Three years ago I painted thousands and thousands of graffities on the walls, mirrors, doors of the toilet cabins, even the floor. I remember mostly the quotes that had made me angry or hurt at that time. The three dots that stood for Max's lack of answers. The giant middle finger on the floor … I shake my head and the memory floats away like an ocean wave. I take a deep breath. I showed this shithole once what I think of it, so I can do it again with Nathan.
He fucking drugged me and I have evidence of it. If he doesn’t want to cooperate with me - it´s his problem, not mine as I will turn his life into living hell. You don´t mess around with Price unless you want to pay the price. Easy as that.
He can do nothing to you. He has no other options than to follow along with me blackmailing him. Be the pirate you always wanted to be!
I finally put my right hand down on the doorknob and open the door. Before I can even fully enter, Nathan shithead Prescott stands in front of the first sink. Just the sight of him already makes me angry. At least he kept his promise to meet me here. His hands rest on the outer sides of the sink. For a second I just stand there and ask myself why I am even doing this. Fuck Frank and his money. I am so over this. I am so over Arcadia Bay.
Nathan doesn’t even look at me. “So what do you want?”
I roll my eyes at his stupid question (Well. What could I want, asshole?!) and while I shut the door behind me, I turn around to the bathroom stalls. One by one I push open each door to see if anyone is there. “I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say.” Fortunately there is no one here. “Now, let's talk bidness –“
Nathan interrupts me. “I got nothing for you.” His voice is deep, but it reminds me of a predator lying in wait. Ready for the next attack.
I refrain from checking the bathroom stalls and turn to him. “Wrong. You got hella cash.” Now I stand one step behind him and only see his mirrored reflection. He is still bent over at the sink. His hands are also still on the porcelain, as if he is looking for support. Obviously, he is afraid. I give a shit if it´s because of me, the situation or because he knows that he fucked up. I enjoy every second of that. He deserves that and so much more. God, I fucking hate that guy!
I want to roll my eyes but something is catching my attention. A blue butterfly sits on the edge of one of the sinks. What does an animal like that doing in here? How did it get in? Where did it come from? Its wings are flapping and it almost seems as the air is pulsating around it. I feel a strange energy emanating from the animal, an energy that seems to pass directly to me. I frown and turn back to Nathan, because this is far more important right now.
“That's my family”, he corrects me and shakes his head a little. “Not me.”
“Oh, boohoo, poor little rich kid.” I lift my arms up a little. “I know you been pumpin' drugs 'n' shit to kids around here.” I walk towards him and now I stand between the sink and the wall. Like him, I rest my hands on the sink and lower my face to his. He is afraid. I can see that in his eyes now. I just have to put a little bit more pressure on him and then I have him where I need him. And most importantly, I'll finally have my money. “I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them.” The closer I move my face towards him, the more he turns away from me. Good. I like that. “Man, I can see the headlines now –“ I definitely can!
“Leave them out of this, bitch.” He barely moves his teeth apart and yet it feels like he is spitting these words at my feet. Still he is not looking at me.
I am so angry, that I don’t care if someone could hear us as I say louder: “I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass”, I give him a push so that he staggers to the side without resisting. He seems strangely impassive, as if none of this concerns him, “who begs like a little girl and talks to himself –“ Again I push him to the side.
There is a metallic click. Everything happens so fast I can hardly see and understand what is happening. Nathan is looking at me. His hand moves towards his jacket. And then there is gun.
Wait, what?!
A. FUCKING. GUN.
“You don´t know who the fuck I am.” Like that stupid gun is giving him more power his voice is clear and powerful. “Or who you're messing around with!”
I automatically back up into the wall, hands lifted into the air. Nathan standing in front of me, fully erected and confident of victory. Fuck, that was not he plan! I look away from him, suddenly afraid, that every wrong movement will make him pull the trigger. My heart is beating so fast, I can hardly hear anything. My knees feel like jello and I try not to pass out. Everything went so well! Who could have thought that this psychopath carries a gun to school?!
Nathan is coming towards me, I can almost smell his sweat, the gun is pointing to my stomach now. Between us exists only a hand length distance and I do not like that at all. I lift my right arm up, put the left hand on his arm to try and move it away from me. I don’t want to die. At least not here in the bathroom stalls of fucking Blackwell. Not before I know what happened to Rachel. Oh, god. Rachel …
“Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!” My voice is so shaky I hate it. It gives away how afraid I am and I don’t want Nathan to enjoy that kind of fear. He already had the pleasure.
I look him straight in the eyes. All I see is hate. And fear. It feels so strange to see my feelings mirrored in them. That is definitely not the last thing I want to remember from my final moments of my life. Images from dad, mom and Max appears in my head. Rachel, and our hideout -
“Don't ever!”, with his free hand he hits the wall next to me “tell me what to do. I'm so sick of people trying to control me!” Again, he hits the wall.
I try to hold the eye contact. To make him SEE that what he is doing is leading to exactly nothing. “You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs –“ Still my voice is shaking.
Nathan is looking directly into my eyes. His angry glaring makes me even more afraid of him and that gun. “Nobody would”, hitting the wall, “ever even miss your punk ass would they?” His words hurt more than a gunshot ever could.
I try to say something but at that very moment, the screaming beep from the fire alarm breaks up our conversation. Nathan immediately averts his eyes and I shove away his arm in which he holds the gun.
“No way”, he mumbles absently.
Before he can turn his attention back to me, I push my right knee right into his groin and push him to the floor with all my force.
“DON´T EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN, FREAK!” I shout at him, look at him one last time, open the door and storm out of the bathroom.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
Did I almost die in the bathroom of Blackwell Academy?!
What a fucking exit!
My eyesight is blurry from the tears that are building up. Since when I am such a cry-baby, Jesus fucking Christ! I catch the posters and run out of the hall which is filled with students. I need to get out of here before I run into any teachers or even worse, Principal Wells. I definitely don’t need to see another dick today.
I crush the door open and I don’t care that I lose some of the posters. Maybe Mrs. Grant is calling my name while I rush down the stairs, but I can´t listen properly. I run across the campus, push students away that are in my way and hustle down the stairs to the parking lot to my truck. I see Frank´s RV behind it and it looks threatening, how it towers over my truck.
I can´t pay Frank. I can´t. I am so fucked.
That. Was. Not. The. Plan.
Before I can form another thought, I throw the posters I still have in my hands into the back of my truck, almost jump towards the door of the driving-side and shut it behind me. My hands are shaking so much, it feels like a relief to hold on to something and I clung them around the steering wheel. I breathe in and out, close my eyes, open them again and start the ignition. I need to get the hell out of here, before Nathan finds me again or even worse, Frank realizes that I hella fucked up.
I step on the gas pedal full throttle and drive off.
.. but I don’t come far.
Right in front of my truck are two students – clearly fighting with each other. A brunette girl with a shouldered bag and a grey hoodie and … no fucking way. Nathan Prescott? Jeez, why of all people?!
I immediately slam on the brakes as the girl falls to the asphalt right in front of my truck and I almost run her over. There is a short silence which is only disturbed by my squeaking brakes. Everything happens so fast I am not even sure in which order the events take place. Nobody says a word and Nathan is not moving at all. I feel that something is moving at the front of my truck like somebody is holding onto it. I see brown hair and slowly the girl is standing up.
When I fully see her, my heart is skipping a beat. I can´t believe what I see. I move closer to the front window.
No. That can´t be true. This is not real. What is wrong with this hella crazy day?!
“Max?!”
“Chloe?”