BROOKE HAD ONE FRIEND WHOM SHE WOULD RATHER NOT CALL A FRIEND AT ALL. Of course, she wanted nothing more than to have someone to talk to during break and lunch, to giggle and gossip with, to talk about movies and boys and current events.
This girl, however, was not the person to fill that for her. Not in the slightest.
Brooke liked River well enough. They had been introduced when the art teacher pointed out that the two both had names relating to a type of small body of water. How their relationship grew was a question Brooke could never answer because it came almost abruptly, yet crawled its way in slowly.
She made her way down to the art room for lunch, as she always did, sketchbook safe in her bag. She sat her lunch tray down softly on one of the tables and began to eat, always cleaning up before she started drawing.
She ignored River who was sitting by herself, casting glances over to Brooke, clearly trying to gain her attention. She just continued to eat, pretending that she couldn't see her, focused on her sandwich.
She sighed as she thought about school. She didn't do any extra curriculars like her sister, and she wasn't above average in any of her classes. She was at a school for gifted students, but she should be at a regular school. She wouldn't be excelling at the regular school, but at least she wouldn't feel as incompetent.
By the time she had finished her sandwich, she was thoroughly upset and ready to rip apart her sketchbook or the table. Instead, she reached over and opened the sketchbook up to a new page, keeping the back of the Stark Industries picture blank.
She didn't want to finish her picture of Liz until she was truly alone and, knowing River, this wasn't the safest place to draw something personal. So she decided to draw fan art.
She liked fan art well enough, it wasn't the sort of art she ever really did, unless she just wanted something to take her mind off things. She didn't watch many TV shows or watch many movies, but she did like drawing the superheroes around the city, as well as movie superheroes.
She had already drawn Iron Man's mask, so she might as well draw Captain America. She had seen a lot of him in those educational videos they were forced to watch, but she hadn't seen much of him in the past few months; something had happened and while it had been all over the news, she didn't really pay much attention to it.
The problems of heroes were of no import to the regular people. For the most part, at least.
"What're you drawing?"
Brooke had to refrain from sighing as she heard River's voice right by her ear. She didn't look up from her phone where she was pulling up references of the superhero, deciding that she would draw him more of a doodle than a full realism.
"Captain America," she said softly, placing her phone down, placing the sketchbook down flat and bending over so her perspective wouldn't be off.
"Why?" River asked, her condescending tone making Brooke grit her teeth.
"Because I want to?" she replied, trying to keep the bite out of her words.
River made a sound under her breath, sitting down next to her, sitting close as she stared at Brooke's sketchbook, waiting for her to continue. Brooke tried to contain the anger in her chest, wondering why the girl bothered her so much.
Tuning her out, moving the sketchbook just enough so she could be hidden from her peripheral vision, she continued drawing Captain America. Whatever had transpired those months ago were lost on her, but she didn't like the idea of the Avengers—the people who were supposed to keep them safe from the greater threats in the universe—were now split up.
So she drew him knitting. She didn't know how to knit and, because River was next to her, she couldn't look up a reference of it on her phone, but she wanted to draw him knitting. A big man like him knitting, it was a nice thing to imagine; it humanized him.
When River finally caught on to what she was drawing, she snorted. "Captain America doesn't knit."
Brooke grit her teeth, taking a deep breath. "I know. That's why I'm doing it."
She continued to work in silence, trying not to listen to River breathing or sighing, focusing on choosing the right shade of blue and red, smiling when she came up with the idea of him knitting an American flag blanket.
"I could do a whole superhero series on this," she mumbled to herself, humming. She would need to redraw the Captain America one, as the anatomy wasn't her best, but she liked the idea of a series of drawings like these.
She didn't normally do drawings like these, but she could sell prints online for spare pocket change, and it would be nice to have something to work on when she didn't feel the great need to make something to help her vent.
"Why?" River scoffed, "I mean, what's the point?"
"Well," Brooke sighed, too tired to get upset by this point, "I could sell prints. I mean, a series of superheroes, this could be great. Hey, I could even donate the proceeds for those charities that help the damage control in some places..." she tapped at her chin, thinking of the possibilities.
"Yeah, but would people really buy them?" River asked, raising her eyebrow, "I mean, really?"
Brooke's hope was crushed. She sighed, leaning back and staring at the picture with a new criticism. River was just saying what the two had been saying for a while, their art wasn't anything spectacular. River wasn't the best artist, neither was Brooke. Both always said that no one would really like their art, despite Brooke winning several awards.
She nearly ripped the picture out.
She stopped herself, just as she was about to tear it out of the book. She convinced herself that it was because she didn't want to ruin the binding of the sketchbook, not because she would do anything with it. Like River said, no one would buy prints of this picture.
She scrapped the idea of a picture series a few moments later.
She listened as River rustled around in her backpack, pulling out her own sketchbook, which was different than the one she had been working on at the start of summer, though it was only a few pages in.
Brooke was notorious for flying through sketchbooks, whereas River found it difficult to find time to work on her art. That was why the two were on different levels, not that they would admit it; it would hurt River too much to know that Brooke was better than her.
Something River could do much better than Brooke, however, was make characters. River was constantly making characters, drawing them in her sketchbook and making up elaborate stories that she never follows through with. Whereas Brooke used her art to vent, River used her characters, giving them as horrible stories as possible, piling problem upon problem on them until it's too overwhelming to hear about them.
Brooke wished she could teach her friend about moderation, about "less is more", but she couldn't make characters herself, so she was in no place to talk.
The two girls began to work in silence, Brooke trying to think of something else to work on; she honestly did want to continue her knitting series, but she wouldn't continue in front of River. So, instead, she began to draw Liz.
Whenever she had nothing to draw, she drew her sister.
It wasn't a finished piece, rather a series of small bust sketches, something she used to do all the time back when she was starting out. She practiced drawing her sister in various other styles, which helped her find the style she normally drew in.
Even in the most private of Brooke's dealings, Liz still shaped her life.
By the time the bell had rung, she had two full pages of her sister from different angles. She closed it quickly before River could see it and begin insulting her sister the way she always did.
Gathering her things, she rushed to her next class, barely stopping to call a goodbye to River as she went, something she felt simultaneously proud and guilty for.
She had been told time and time again that her relationship with River wasn't the best for her and she should make some boundaries, but she never understood that; how could she be a good friend if she kept putting herself first? The people who told her that didn't know anything about her regardless, so she took their words with a grain of salt.
"Brooke!"
She whirled around, nearly tripping, as she heard the sound of her sister's voice. She shoved her sketchbook into her bag and adjusted the strap, watching as Liz made her way over, smiling widely.
"How's your first day, where were you during lunch?" she asked, slightly breathless, towering over her, hands on her lips.
The younger Allan girl shrugged, motioning down to the art room. "It was alright. And I'm where I always am."
"Nice," Liz said, nodding.
A silence passed over them and Brooke glanced at the electronic clock on the wall, not wanting to be late to class. "Um..."
"You should probably get to class," Liz said, stepping away.
"Yeah," she agreed, sighing in relief. As she started to walk, she caught herself, asking, "What class do you have now?"
"I have leadership, so I'm not doing anything," she said, shrugging, "I wanted to take another AP, but you know, being school president."
"Yeah," she said, again, struggling to keep the smile on her face, "Okay, bye."
"Bye!"
Brooke turned on her heel and sprinted up the stairs, not stopping until she burst through the door to her class, just before the bell rang. She gave her teacher an apologetic smile, sitting down quickly, trying to catch her breath.
"Are you okay?" her seat partner asked, laughing that worried sort of laugh people had when asking questions, something Brooke utilized constantly.
"Oh, yeah," she breathed, waving her hand flippantly, "I just...ran. My sister tried talking to me, so I was a little caught up."
"Oh," they said, still laughing, "Your sister's Liz, right? The senior?"
"Yeah," she said, struggling to keep her smile up; when the conversation turned to Liz, it was all over.
"You sister is really, really nice," they gushed, "I mean, she's so great."
"Yeah, she is," she agreed, bitterly, "She's super great." She said the words like they were poison, spitting them out and turning away.
"Oh, is she super awful at home?" they asked, noticing her reaction, "That's what my sister is like, so it bothers me when people say nice things about her. Sorry."
Brooke shook her head. "No, it's fine, and, no, she's actually just as great at home."
That was the bothersome part. If Liz were awful at home, then Brooke would have some warrant to be upset. But Liz was perfect at home, doing the dishes without being asked, doing things with her mother, being the perfect daughter while Brooke hid up in her room, pretending that she didn't want to spend time with the mother who forgot about her, sighing whenever she was asked to do anything because that was the only time they acknowledged she existed.
Class began and she never did find out what her classmate thought of her negative feelings towards her perfect sister. That was fine by her, they wouldn't remember her name by the end of this anyways.
No one remembered Brooke when there was Liz.
º º º
No one ever texted Brooke unless they were parters for a project, or if they were River. Unfortunately, no partner projects were assigned, which meant the loud ringing from outside of Brooke's bathroom door were texts from River.
She sighed, wrapping a towel around herself, stepping out of her bathroom and into her bedroom. She was glad to have her own bathroom, sharing with Liz would be a nightmare all to itself; standing next to each other, looking into the mirror, that would kill her.
She sighed as she could sight of the flashing of her phone, lighting up with every new text she received, the time between texts growing shorter and shorter as River became increasingly more aggravated at the lack of response.
She skimmed through the texts, seeing River's initial, which was asking if she wanted to know something cool. Everything else was a series of texts trying to get her attention, her name spelled in elongations or capital letters or a mixture of both.
from: River (8:15 pm)
Wow you're a great friend
you know that?
Brooke gritted her teeth, anger pulsing in her chest. She tried to avoid conflict as much as possible, but behind a screen, she felt enough power to stand up for herself against a regular occurrence.
to: River (8:25 pm)
I was in the bathroom, sorry
my life doesn't revolve around you
She tossed her phone to the side, knowing that she would receive a long winded text rant in a few moments, depending on how long it took for River to type everything out. In the meantime, she went to get dressed, rubbing her temples, feeling a headache coming on.
By the time she returned to her phone, dressed for bed and tired beyond belief, she found four long tirades of texts from River, which she opened and closed without reading, catching sight of just enough words to know that the girl was angry.
It didn't matter. In the morning, the two would pretend it didn't happen and be friends again, just like normal.
Brooke glanced at her sketchbook. While in the shower, she had felt the sudden urge to draw something. Now, she just wanted to sleep.
So sleep she did, though a restful sleep she did not find.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
( 10.19.17 )
Googles: How to write good endings to chapters.
I'm actually getting upset as I write River and Brooke's interactions because I have been in Brooke's exact same position, though to a different extreme and with different circumstances, but the gist is the same, and so this relationship is something Brooke will overcome throughout the story.
The family dynamics will appear in the next chapter, I'm looking forward to getting to that because that's what we're here for. We're also here for Ned, but the boy will appear soon, but we gotta set up some stuff first, you feel?
Anyways...thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!