Everything Short of Clarity
Disclaimer: I own nothing, got it?
Rating: Hard R, for sexual and adult themes, underage drinking, and drug use.
Word Count: 2437
Ships: Alex/Isabel. Kyle/Tess. CC/UC.
Summary: [AU. No Aliens.] How can you confess how you feel when not everything's out on the table?
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The weeks quickly ran by and soon the students were well into September.
Everyone was busy with sports, academia, and clubs, and the seniors had early
graduation preparation added to their lists. Though at least a quarter of the
senior class took honors’ courses, their homework load was not nearly as
tedious as it had been in the past.
Alex was always one to go straight home, eat, and finish his homework early. In
his mind, only long term projects and difficult assignments deserved
procrastination. Since he didn’t have either, he had driven back to school and
was now sitting in the gym, watching the girls volley the ball over the net,
warming up for their match against East Roswell High.
Glancing to the entrance of the building, he smiled at the bulk of students that
had arrived to watch the game. Before he returned his gaze to the court, Alex
waved over Kyle and Tess, who had just arrived.
“Hey,” Alex said, scooting to the edge of the bleacher to make room for them,
“So Kyle, ready for us to whoop your toosh?”
“Right, Whitman, but sorry I’ve seen these girls in action, and, surely, it’s going
to be one hardcore match.” Kyle wrapped his arm around Tess’s waist and she
laid her head onto his shoulder, relaxing into him.
“Hello, Alex,” Tess said. “Long time, no see,” she joked.
“Yeah, really,” he chuckled. “Did you finish your Econ assignment? There’s one
word that I couldn’t find its definition, neither in the chapter text nor the
glossary.”
Tess pursed her lips then responded, “I started it in class, but that’s about it. I
haven’t touched it since school let out.”
“Seriously, Whitman, you have got to be the only guy I know who finishes their
homework before six o’clock,” Kyle quirked an eyebrow upward then shook his
head. “Pathetic.”
“Shut up. Was I talking to you?” he said, looking up to the court when he heard
the coach’s yell for the girl’s to head in and let the other team warm up. “I don’t
work, and the only extracurricular I have is tae kwon do, and that’s not
school-related. So getting it done is easy, especially since the load’s been light,
thus far.”
“I’m glad for that,” Tess piped up, waving at a girl who jogged past. “Since early
admissions starts in July, what’s the point in having to do so much?”
“Exactly,” Alex nodded. He paused to glance at the girls rummaging through
their bags, drinking water, and doing last minute stuff for the oncoming match,
then proceeded, “Where’d you apply to?”
“Well, I applied to some of the universities here, ASU, and, my highest aim,
Tulane, but I seriously doubt I’ll actually get in; hence the reason for the safety
schools.”
“See, I nabbed a smart one,” Kyle said proudly, kissing Tess’s forehead, which
she in turn smacked him playfully on the chest.
“You’re not as much of an idiot as I’d thought you’d be,” she said, keeping her
gaze to the court as the timer on the scoreboard went off and the girls began to
scurry onto the court.
“Hey!” Kyle responded in indignation. Alex just laughed.
“Anyway,” Alex rolled his eyes. “What about you Kyle? Have you applied
anywhere yet?”
“Yes, he has,” Tess smiled, looking pointedly at her boyfriend.
“Yeah,” Kyle paused, taking a moment to watch the girls play. “Damn! Come on,
Eileen!” he yelled to a girl of medium build and blonde hair. “Anyway, I applied
to some of the in-state universities, but that’s about it.”
“What about Notre Dame? What happened to scouts and scholarships?”
“They’re there, but they are all looking at players like Dave and Wayne. I’m a
short shit compared to them.” Kyle sighed, running his free hand through his
hair.
“Unfortunately, they’re dumbasses,” Tess interjected, punching Kyle in the
thigh.
“Ouch! You’re so violent!”
“Whatever. Kyle, you at least have a decent GPA compared to those dicks.
Scouts don’t just look at players who would easily make the cut; they also have
to look at players who could make it through the academic standards.” Tess
huffed, irritated. “You can make it into Notre Dame.”
“Tess is right, man. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Alex shrugged his shoulders
then turned his attention to the game, where East Roswell had just
scored.
“Yeah!” Kyle cheered.
Alex shook his head and saw that Isabel was staring at him, smiling as drops of
sweat descended her face. He waved to her, flashing her a toothy grin and an
encouraging thumbs up to show his support. She nodded her head and went
into a crouched stance, a new determination on her lovely features.
The game became more aggressive as things progressed, and the whole
audience was enthralled by the girls’ abilities. Both teams had very impressive
players, some who could spike the ball hard into the floor and others who could
serve with amazing accuracy. Now in their third and final game, the girls were
exhausted, but continued to play with as much fire as they began.
“God, Isabel looks like she could use a pick-me-up,” Kyle observed, noticing
Isabel’s flyaway strands, sweat-drenched face, and jittery stance.
“I think they all look like they could use one,” Alex supplied, sitting on the edge
of his seat.
“Go Courtney!” Tess screamed when the tall girl served the ball over the net.
Courtney gave Tess a quick smile as she shortly jogged to her position.
“This is so hard to watch,” Kyle put his hands up over his face and peeked
through his fingers. “This seriously sucks when you’ve attended both
schools.”
Alex nodded, remembering when the district had redrawn the boundary lines
and Kyle had been given the choice to go to East or West, and had chosen to
go to East Roswell, so to save his dad the burden of paying a district fee. Plus
the fact that an old coach Kyle’s dad had admired during his years was now the
football coach at the newer school had also had an influence in his
decision.
“It must,” Alex agreed, wincing when East Roswell made game point.
“Crap.”
“Isabel almost got that one, too,” Kyle said, glancing at Tess who was intensely
captivated by the match.
“Yeah, she did,” Tess trailed.
“But she’s tired,” Alex finished for her, and then admitted, “She should’ve been
switched out halfway through this game.” Clapping his hands, he cheered,
“Come on, team, you can do it! Eyes on the prize!”
Tess, Kyle, and Alex watched as East Roswell served the ball, which Liz handled
beautifully to her teammates and got it over the net. One of the taller girls on
the other side spiked the ball with such a force you could hear the sound
echoing off the gym walls. Isabel jutted her arms forward and dove for it,
crashing hard onto the floor. Though, it had seemed more to Alex that Isabel
was not fully aware of what she was doing.
Unfortunately, Isabel did not keep her hands in their locked position and the ball
hit the floor before her team could even realize what was happening. The girls
from East Roswell had begun to celebrate, but Alex had noticed that Isabel had
not got up from where she laid on the linoleum.
“Oh, God,” Tess whispered, standing up and letting her left hand cover her
lips.
Before anyone deemed it necessary to call an ambulance, though, Isabel came
to, and Alex found that he could breathe again.
The next day, Alex ran up to the Evans jeep in the school lot just after he
parked his ‘rabbit’. He gave a quick wave to Isabel’s brothers as they walked
tiredly toward the school while Isabel searched through her book bag for
something.
“Hey,” Alex smiled, pretending that he didn’t have a question burning at the
back of his conscious.
“Hey,” she replied, fatigued. Her eyes had dark crevices under them, like she
hadn’t slept a wink the night before. She put a pen in her mouth that she had
found at the bottom of her back pack. “Where is it?”
“What exactly are you looking for?” he asked, opening her door to the large,
black jeep.
“My homework,” she answered shortly. “I did it last night after the game, and I
swear to God that I put it in my binder, but it’s not there.”
Alex nodded, not quite sure what to say, but then wondered, “After the game?
Did you not pass out after your guys’ loss, or were you just so frustrated
beyond belief that you felt the need to scare me half to death?” She had given
him the opportunity to ask, so he figured he’d take it.
Isabel gradually stopped her rummaging and quietly faced Alex, her eyes
seeming darker than he had first imagined. “Not exactly,” she responded,
having taken the pen from out of her mouth. “I didn’t mean to frighten anyone. I
was just . . . frustrated, and angry, and beyond pissed,” she told with a slight
staccato to her voice. “I should’ve called you last night, but I had so much to do,
and it was late,” she trailed off.
“Bullshit,” he bluntly pointed. “Isabel, that wasn’t frustration. You may have
fooled your parents, but – here I am – your best friend. I know full well that you
passed out, because, frankly, you were exhausted by game three on that
court.” Isabel cast her head down, taking a few moments to flip through the
pages of her history book. “What’s the big deal, Iz?”
“My parents can’t know, and you won’t tell them.”
“Now you’re being melodramatic.” He came around to the other side of the
vehicle and sat in the passenger seat. “Is it like last year? You know, when you
were out sick with Mono for, like, a month?”
“No, it’s not Mono. At least, I hope to God it’s not, because there’s no way I can
miss another month of school. Having to lie in bed, do homework, and then all
the makeup work that can’t be done at home? God, I don’t think so.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, a single tear sliding down her face.
Isabel slammed her book shut with a frustrated sigh and jammed it back into
her backpack. Alex took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze, to which
she brought her body and arms around to wrap him in a hug.
For a moment, Alex couldn’t breathe as the scent of her shampoo invaded his
nasal orifices, along with the feeling of her soft hair brushing against his cheek.
He would’ve closed his eyes and cherished this moment like any guy with a
crush on their gorgeous best friend, but his concern overrode any other feeling
coursing through him. He had inkling as to what was ailing Isabel, but even the
suggestion would have her swatting his arm and saying not to worry. She was
too proud to ever give in and confess.
She pulled away, but kept her hands on his shoulders and bit her lip in
amusement at his worried eyes. “Alex, really, it’s probably nothing. Now,
please,” she grinned, “stop looking as if I’m at death’s doorstep. I’ll be
fine.”
Alex nodded, but proceeded to let his preoccupation simmer at the back of his
mind. “Okay, but promise me this?”
“What?” she questioned as they both got out of the car, having heard the first
warning bell.
“Get some sleep tonight. You look, uh, bad.”
Isabel rolled her eyes and let him place an arm around her shoulder, giving her
a friendly shake as they walked to their first class.
Later that day, Maria DeLuca ran to her third hour class, cursing her teacher for
keeping her later to speak with her about her grade, as they were halfway
through the first quarter, and her mark in math was not exactly up to par.
Though, she really didn’t care, as she had always been horrible at math, and a
lot of times would ask Liz for help with the God-forsaken subject. After the usual
lecture from her instructor, he didn’t even bother to make her a late pass and
had said that she had sufficient time to get to her third hour, but, unfortunately,
most teachers did not take into consideration that a person ran into friends in
the corridors.
Reaching her next class as the late bell rang, she threw open the door and
quickly apologized to the teacher for being late as she walked down the ramp of
the giant art room. She adored the instructor of this class, as she wasn’t as
judgmental as some of her other ones, and the woman had an oddness to her
that reminded Maria of her mother, but only enough so that they were still two
completely different people.
Seating herself at one of the tables, she greeted her classmates to receive
hellos from around the table except from one person, who she never
remembered having sat at her table.
“Why are you sitting here?” she asked rudely, her eyes squinted in
muted anger.
“Forced to,” was his answer. She watched as he moved his chair back and set
his black-booted feet on his corner of the table. “What’s it to you,
Blondie?”
“One, the name’s Maria,” she articulated,” get it right, and two, the spiked
hairstyle? So late 90’s,” she took her long hair and put it up in a
ponytail.
“Whatever.” He took his notepad from his backpack and dropped it onto the
table.
“You didn’t answer my initial question. Why are you sitting here?”
“Togetherness,” he said bitterly, taking his pencil and pointing it toward their
strangely dressed teacher, “and group work.”
Maria blinked in disbelief, “Group work? As in project that involves more than
one person?”
“You’re a smart one.”
The girl between them cleared her throat and said, “Yeah. We have three
weeks to make, like, a mosaic that represents the school. You know, like, spirit,
and academics, and all that jazz.”
“Like, yeah,” Michael said in response, receiving a glare from the girl.
“Ugh! Get over yourself, Guerin. That angry, sulky teenage boy routine is so not
cool.”
“That’s the point,” he tipped his head back, glancing pointed at the blonde
chatter box. “From what I remember, headbands went out in the 80’s,” he
added, referring to Maria’s brightly colored hair piece, and turned back around
toward where the teacher wrote out the instructions for the day.
Maria fumed, not bothering to speak to him for the rest of the class.