Jesse stood in the middle of the kitchen, panting like she had run a marathon, staring at the stupid plastic packet of sliced ham lying innocently on the table, surrounded by carnage. She had ransacked all the drawers for anything sharp to pierce the impregnable packaging so she could make her damn lunch, finding only forks. Well, now the pack looked like it was on the wrong end of buckshot, but the ham was still out of reach. Fucking perfect.
"Daniel!" she yelled into the depths of the house, just as a middle-aged man came into the kitchen with a messy stubble and a steaming mug of coffee. He flinched at the volume, scratching his chin.
"Mornin' t' you too, sunshine." He yawned and cleared the scattered spoons from a chair, collapsing into it with a grunt. "And you should really call me Mr Mercer."
"I'll call you that when you act like an adult." She spat back at him, eyes blazing with frustration. "Did you really take all the knives out of the kitchen? What sort of fuckery is this?"
"Language." Daniel Mercer sighed, knowing his comment would fall on deaf ears and sipped his coffee. He looked at her over his wide-rimmed glasses and made a point of pausing for slightly too long.
"That I did."
"Now why in the hell would you…"
"You don't need a knife to make a ham sandwich. You do know the packet has a corner you could peel?"
Jesse groaned and flicked her russet braid from her shoulder.
"That IS usually the case, unless it's been sealed with aerospace-grade adhesive!" She slapped the abused packet towards Daniel, who stopped it from flying off the table with his mug.
He gave her a long, hard look.
"Y'know why, Jesse"
She rolled her eyes and turned to the toaster. Mr Mercer was a busybody of ungodly proportions, but he was right. She knew exactly why. That didn't mean she couldn't bitch about it.
"Ah, sod it. Bread and crisps will have to do." She crouched and fished out a packet of Lay's out of a pile of tins, instant ramen and cereal boxes and began to crush it in her hands as if it made a vicious insult to her entire being. She could hear Daniel huffing in disapproval behind her, but carried on. Jesse knew she was being difficult, but how else was one to respond when a man who wasn't her father or even a legal guardian was being so damn controlling.
"Please stop making that abomination." Mr Mercer piped up at last, after finishing his coffee "I had leftovers from last night's dinner and made you a packed lunch. Just get dressed and come outside. I'll drive you to school."
He stood up, putting the abused ham packed back into the fridge. He frowned at the yawning space inside, containing only an open tin of sweetcorn and a bottle of soda, but said nothing when closing the door and grunting his way to the exit, not waiting for a response.
Jesse waited until the front door closed and sighed, leaning on the counter. Daniel Mercer was a deeply irritating man. Every day it was one excuse after another. Got too much Chinese takeaway, so I brought you a chow mein. There was an offer for ground beef at Costco, so I made too much meatloaf; you should have it.
He would drive her to school, grunt his goodbye, and probably return to the house to tidy up the mess in the kitchen and go grocery shopping. Jesse leaned back, breathing in deeply like her therapist kept telling her, and exhaled slowly, trying to shove down the boiling anger she was trying to misdirect at the only adult in her life who seemed to give a shit. She should have done the groceries. And should NOT have destroyed the kitchen. It was embarrassing to be so uncontrolled and emotional all the time. She was fine by herself, calm even. Mr Mercer just seemed to be there exactly when her emotions spiralled out of control. But the kind bastard wouldn't even call her out on it, or give her a lecture like her damn therapist, the judge or the defence attorney. He would just grunt and get things done. Fix the leaking faucet, deal with the broken stove, cook her proper food as a real parent should.
She was breathing heavily now, trying to keep the stupid tears from leaking out of her eyes and ending up going outside, to the battlefield that was school, with a puffy face. She had to get it together. She was doing fine on her own before, and she should be able to do so again. Even if relying on the kindness of her social worker felt so painfully good.
As she was leaving her house in a comfortable blue tracksuit and a cheap old backpack on her shoulder, she suddenly heard a familiar voice beckon her from across the street. Shit. She forgot about Adam coming home! It took everything she had not to fully bolt towards the broken old Camaro and calmly get into the passenger seat, pointedly ignoring Mr Mercer's raised eyebrow.
"Ain't that your friend? Why didn't you greet him back?" he asked, the car already running but not pressing on the gas.
"I don't want to be late for school," she lied. Mr Mercer seemed not to buy it but took the car out of the drive-through onto the road anyway.
They drove in awkward silence for a few minutes, but Jesse knew it was just a matter of time before the bleeding heart next to her would pipe up again.
"You know," he began carefully, like she was made of goddamn glass. "It is good for you to maintain relationships with people in your support network. If I recall correctly, Adam has been your friend from childhood and seems like a decent fellow."
"Yeah, very decent," she replied petulantly. "Saint Adam is the preacher's son. Just came back from a Youth Camp. Would totally welcome me with open arms after he sees the damn news from the last two months."
Daniel hummed in apparent understanding. He didn't press the issue further, the careful, caring idiot that he was. She wished he would. She was begging for a fight. For someone to confront her and let her vent the scalding steam that had built up inside her over the last few weeks. She was equally glad he didn't. He, of all people, didn't deserve her wrath in the slightest.
***
She found the furthest corner in the cafeteria and tried to be invisible. She wasn't short by any standards, but she was all lean, sinewy muscle that she had learned to compact into some pretty tiny spaces for self-preservation. A nondescript ordinary girl in ordinary cheap sportswear sitting in a corner by herself should have been easy to overlook. But everyone in this horrid school was staring at her. She hoped that the arrival of the flashy foreign twins, looking like something out of a teen TV show, would gather all the attention she was desperate to avoid. But gossip dies last in a small town like this, and while the new kids were mysterious, her story was the juice that kept the networks busy all summer.
Fuck them, she thought savagely; I'm just here for lunch like everybody else. She opened the Tupperware box, carefully wrapped in an old tote bag with the faded logo of Seidokan Aikido dojo, and snorted. Lasagna. A huge chunk of it, with fresh salad on the side and a thermos of green tea. Leftovers, he said, the damn liar. She dug into it with relish, trying very hard not to get used to the care in this gesture and the feeling of warmth that spread through her starving body. It wouldn't last anyway, and the loss would hurt all the more.
Just as the warm stringy cheese had begun melting in her mouth, a shadow obscured the afternoon light from the windows in front of her. She raised her head to find a girl she didn't recognise. She must have just transferred, or a freshman. Medium height, looking like a typical all-American apple-pie cheerleader, except she was dressed in a surprisingly modest long skirt and a sensible blouse. Nothing like Carter and Saul, who were even now competing in who could get away with a few inches less on their already short skirts. And then she saw the glittering golden cross, polished to perfection and reflecting the midday sun. Great. She'd rather have a vicious gossip girl than a bible thumper any day.
"You're Jesse Ashford, right?" The pretty girl asked, eyelashes fluttering innocently, before placing her tray next to Jesse and sliding into a chair. "May I sit here?"
Jesse grunted non-commitally. The blonde clearly wasn't going to take no for an answer, and this lasagna was too good to put down. She distantly thought she started picking up David's habits unintentionally, and shrugged, smiling to herself. She probably looked mental, but she didn't care anymore.
"I'm Monica Warren." The blonde's smile strangely didn't meet her eyes as she was staring at Jesse expectantly. For a second, Jesse genuinely thought she was going mental and should have known who this bird was. But no, the name did not ring a bell.
"You might have heard of me," she continued before Jesse finished chewing her mouthful "I am Adam Penhalyn's girlfriend."
And there it was. Jesse snorted with amusement and focused back on her food. Goddamn Saint Adam. Apparently he was catnip to psychotic freaks, who flocked to him desperately trying to control every aspect of his life. From what he wore to who he talked to. And of course, Jesse, whose many sins included such things as being a bad influence, having a mouth like a sailor and having the misfortune of being a girl, was a threat to be eliminated post-haste.
Out loud she said, with a slight sarcastic bite to her voice, "Sorry, haven't heard of you. But congratulations!"
Monica's perfectly sculpted brows furrowed ever so slightly. "You don't have to be so abrasive, you know. I simply wanted to come over and have a chat….about Adam's future."
Jesse's quizzical face elicited a slight smile as she continued. "I know what you must think of me. This is an uppity know-it-all who has only been dating Adam for barely a month, coming here, telling me what to do." She paused for dramatic effect. Jesse just chewed.
"But let me be frank with you." Miss Warren leaned over, light blue eyes blazing with intent and some kind of righteous judgement, the effect of which was enhanced by the dangling crucifix. "I take Adam's future very seriously. And you are a very big threat to that future."
Jesse just stared. She was pretty sure Adam's new handler had a few screws loose, getting right to the point and threatening her after barely a minute's acquaintance.
Monica leaned back into her chair, mask of a pleasant smile back on. "Unlike dear Adam, I DO check the news now and again. And I was mortified to know that my darling's most precious childhood friend was involved in such…" she paused, looking her over with searing judgement in her eyes that was unmistakable now "...a horrid incident. But I believe in not judging a book by its cover, and decided to talk to you in person, in hopes of coming to an agreement beneficial for all."
Jesse almost choked on the salad. She was ninety per cent sure Adam's girlfriend did not just proposition her, all things considered. But you never knew with these religious types.
Monica pointedly ignored the spluttering noises and cocked her head innocently "I am sure you know that Adam is the star quarterback and the school's unofficial idol, I must say. Good looks, clever mind, impeccable manners and morals." She blinked slowly, staring right into Jesse's soul. "And you are a reprobate."
"A what?"
"A sinner," she said with the zeal of a true preacher, "Who by mere proximity would tarnish Adam's reputation, well-being and damn his soul to hell alongside hers."
Jesse glared at her, putting the fork down with force "Oi, don't cross the line, Miss Pious. I know what I am; you don't have to lecture me about that. And I wasn't going to get close to Adam anymore anyway. For the same reasons. So no need to swing your righteousness around; you'll poke someone's eye out with that." She pointed forcefully at the metal cross and returned to her food, mood soured.
Monica gave her one assessing look over and beamed. "Wonderful! I am glad we came to a mutual understanding. Hope you have a blessed day, Miss Ashford."
The blond harpy swirled gracefully out of her seat, picked up the tray and sauntered over to Carter and Saul, greeting them in that nauseating fake high pitch. Jesse huddled back into her corner. A few months ago, such blatant disrespect would have made her truly put the fear of God into Miss Warren. But as things stood, the bitch was right.