The shade from the brutalist school building did nothing to relieve the afternoon heat. Jesse watched the sky absentmindedly, hoping that the sparse clouds might provide some entertainment. No luck. That seemed to be the motto of this shitty day.
After shovelling the remainder of her lunch into her mouth, Jesse slunk out of the cafeteria to spend the rest of recess in blessed solitude. The back of the school was facing a concrete wall, with a sad patch of grass surrounding the equipment shed, which doubled as a smoke room. So far, apart from a few students also escaping the battle royale of recess politics, she was alone at last.
This wasn't going to work. Her life before this summer wasn't grand, but after the events of today, she honestly didn't know if she could handle it. She thought she managed to suppress the raw fear that gripped her when she first saw the headlines. Keep calm and carry on. Good motto, but sometimes it really wasn't worth the effort. Maybe she should just drop out of school and get a vocational job.
"You look upset," Jesse swore loudly as her full body jolt cracked her head against the wall.
"Fuck's sake, Ian! We talked about this!" she hissed, rubbing the back of her head, glaring at the sneaky bastard next to her. Ian, in all his five-foot-five skinny glory, made as much noise as a cat when he moved.
"I honestly don't know what you want me to do," he protested. "I started talking in a lower tone of voice specifically not to startle you."
"You could have tapped my shoulder. Or put on shoes that make noise when you walk, not whatever those are." She pointed angrily at his loafers. She sighed at Ian's visible cringe at both of those options.
"I'll just tie a bell to you and call it a day." She settled back down, head throbbing.
"That sounds like it would be very disruptive."
Jesse shrugged and closed her eyes. A few moments passed before Ian piped up again.
"You didn't answer my question."
"Huh? You asked one?"
"Yes."
"... You are going to have to repeat it, mate."
"Sorry. People usually don't like it when I repeat questions." He cocked his head slightly. "You look upset."
Jesse stared blankly at him for a second and replied. "Yeah, well. You know. People staring at me like I am a freakshow. Being verbally assaulted by Adam's new harpy girlfriend. Not being able to open a packet of ham because my house no longer has knives in it. Kind of fucks up your day."
"That sounds rough. I am sorry that happened to you." Ian frowned, clearly confused about the last point, but restraining himself from asking.
"Why do you sound like a pre-recorded HR message?"
He flushed slightly, near invisible with his olive-toned complexion. He was fidgeting with his hands again, which in Ian-speak meant that he was almost bursting from the impulse to elaborate, but holding himself back again.
"Go on. Tell me before you have a stroke."
He immediately exhaled. "So, I've read this Reddit post about neurodivergent people struggling to express empathy, right. So when talking to neurotypical people about their problems, we shouldn't give unsolicited advice on how to fix it, share our own relevant experiences or offer humour to lighten the situation. We should say that."
"Say what?"
"That. 'That sounds rough. I am sorry that happened to you.'"
Jesse stared at this adorable alien and burst into laughter. It was one of those full-body convulsions that made her struggle to fit large gasps in between spasms and weeping from effort. To his credit, Ian patiently let it pass, even though he looked flabbergasted.
"Right." She managed after her stomach began to hurt. "First of all, you think I am neurotypical? Me, of all people?"
Ian shrugged. "Pretty much, yes. You are just deeply traumatised."
"Wow, thanks. I mean, you're not wrong." She chuckled.
"Second, please don't take advice on how to talk to people from Reddit. We talked about this too."
"I know. I just… wanted to try it and see if it'll work better." He seemed younger than usual, head bowed slightly in shame.
"You know what? It actually helped. I haven't laughed in…" she hesitated, trying to remember. "Wow. In two months. So thanks!"
Ian smiled shyly. The companionable silence between them stretched as it always did. Comfortable and safe. Jesse even began to feel her tight back muscles relax and the constant feeling of dread that accompanied her everywhere ebb away.
"Adam was looking for you." And there it was again. Well, at least she got a minute of respite.
"Great. I don't want to see him."
Ian hesitated. "You really should talk to him."
"Absolutely not. And don't even start with me. You know why."
He paused, fiddling with his wristwatch, probably overanalysing the next thing he wanted to say in his head again. This usually endearing quality started to piss her off.
"I think," he began tentatively, "you should talk to him, not because he deserves to hear it from you first, but because you need to tell someone properly. I assume no one actually asked you to tell them what really happened from the beginning, did they?"
Jesse froze, clammy palms tucked into her jacket pockets.
"You did," she said, voice on the verge of cracking. "And I told you."
"I don't count." The dismissive attitude made Jesse flinch, but before she could protest, he continued. "I'm the safe choice. I don't judge. But I also can't give you the catharsis you need. Adam is different. You want his approval. And that's why you have to tell him everything. You'll never move on unless you do."
She looked up at him, angry tears that she shoved back earlier this morning trying to escape once again.
"You know what?" she said with a slow, measured pace. "You're right. I do want Adam's approval. So do you, so does everyone in this damn school. And yes, I am afraid. Everyone I've talked to, present company excluded, had the same fucking expression on their face. Judgemental pity. And I don't want to…. I can't bear to see that look on Adam. I just can't. I'd rather he hear it from someone else, decide to never talk to me again and leave it at that."
She was breathing heavily, jailbroken tears finally wetting her jacket sleeves.
"You know he would never do that," Ian said softly, hand hovering over her shoulder, unsure. "Adam will listen and understand. That's why you have to tell him, Jesse."
She was wiping at her face furiously now, tears fully obscuring her vision.
"Maybe you're right," she sobbed quietly.
"Well… it's good that you think that, because he is coming this way."
"Fucking hell!" Jesse sprang up, looking around frantically and spotting the blond mop of hair reflecting the sun like a beacon heading her way.
She broke into a run. Belatedly realising that that was a big mistake, because Adam was a quarterback and she was still winded from all that emotional drama earlier. He caught up to her in no time.
"Ok, ok. Hold on." She panted, doubled over.
"Are you done? Can we finally talk now?" Asked Adam, waves of suppressed anger rolling off of him, covering her with a thin sheet of sweat.
She looked into his stupidly honest blue eyes, frustration and concern warring for dominance inside, and gave up.
"Fine. But not out in the open, ok?" Jesse pointed to the shed.
After he closed the door behind him, Adam turned, folding his hands across his chest expectantly. She expected a stern look, but instead got the usual pleading puppy eyes. Goddamn Saint Adam and the holy horse he rode in on.
"Jesse. I don't know what's going on, but please, talk to me. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. If you are concerned, you know I refuse to listen to gossip, so your version of whatever happened is the only one I'll hear."
She sighed. "I know, dumbass. Got to warn you though, it's a gruesome tale. Are you sure you want to hear it? No going back."
Without hesitation, he nodded.
No avoiding it now. Rip the plaster off.
"Alright. So, a few days after you left for your bible camp trip, I came home after running some errands and rather than use the front door, decided to pop in from the back. I opened the door and lo and behold, my dad was straddling my mom on the ground, hands on her neck, choking her. Probably had been for a while, as her face was literally blue. So, in an attempt to stop him, I grabbed whatever was nearby, which happened to be a carving knife, and proceeded to stab him eight times in the back. Why eight, you might ask. Well, he didn't let go on the first try. The rest were just me going with the flow. So I stand there, knife in hand, the bastard bleeding out on the floor probably already dead, my mother slowly regaining her consciousness and beginning to scream in horror. So, I called the police. They showed up after around thirty minutes, which in other circumstances is quite a slow response if I might say so myself, took one look at the scene and took me into custody first."
She took a deep breath, refusing to look Adam in the face. "I have no idea how long I spent in holding, while the detectives, the coroner, the paramedics and whatnot were deconstructing the crime scene, but eventually they chucked me into juvie to keep an eye on me while they were figuring out what happened. Apparently they found enough to satisfy them that my shitface of a dad was the criminal here, considering the years of abuse we had to endure. I had a hearing; they ruled self-defence or something along those lines and let me go until the actual trial. Which is scheduled for March."
"You'd think the shitshow would end there, right? Well, to salt the wound properly, when I got out of juvie and came home, my mom went missing. Packed her shit, got in the car and left somewhere. My social worker, who drove me to my house, had to drive me back again so that they had to have another hearing about what to do with me. I am a minor, but almost seventeen. So after a lot of back and forth, they let me live on my own in the house, with my social worker visiting and keeping an eye on me until the trial. They're still looking for my mom."
She paused, steeling herself and finally looked up at Adam. "So that was my summer vacation. What about you? Heard you got a girlfriend, congrats!"