Awakening Foster Kelly

by Cara Rosalie Olsen

  She opened her mouth again, and this time was able to push words through partially gritted teeth. “But . . . it doesn’t really matter what I think, does it?”

  Enough time had passed that I wasn’t exactly sure what this was in reference to. Figuring it out, however, did little for my wondering. I gave my head a hard shake, trying to rid and dispel the nonsense I had just heard from my ears. Emily never said but. She also didn’t renounce her opinion—not to family, not to friends, and certainly not to people she disliked.

  She turned to me then, annoyance having dissipated and replaced with something equally as expressive, but much less hostile. Leaning in, a smile already spreading on her face, she said into my ear loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t let Jake fool you—I’m the nice one.” The fluttering of hope I’d been clinging to a moment ago flourished, bursting into vivacious flapping. She pulled away, eyes already in search of Dominic, the smile subdued.

  She took a deep breath and let it out extravagantly. “It doesn’t matter what I think because”—her eyes darted toward me conspiratorially—“Foster has decided you’re not a scumbag.” She tossed her glossy blonde hair—still wet—to the other side, intentionally slapping Jake in the face with it. She smiled first at me, then at Dominic. “If you haven’t already, you’ll soon figure out she’s one of the smartest people on the planet. Based on that I’m going to tolerate you, until you prove me wrong or screw everything up.” The words were harsh, but her tone was not. In fact, I was more than surprised by her seriousness, sincerity and overall manner. “Not that it makes any difference to me which one it is, but for Foster’s sake, I’m hoping you prove me wrong. I would rather not have to ruin you,” she concluded, a smirk tempering the threat of destruction.

  For once Dominic looked completely and genuinely shocked. I didn’t blame him; I was having a difficult time convincing myself this was really happening, that I hadn’t wandered into a daydream and concocted this fortunate turn of events. No one spoke a word for a solid minute, so stunned were we at Emily’s proffered deference—as far as I knew, this had never happened before. A moment later, I realized Jake was just waiting for the perfect moment to play his part.

  He began to mock-sniff, then adding a light sob to the theatrics, threw an arm around his sister and nuzzled his large skull into the space between her neck and shoulder. “That,” he squeaked, sniffing uncontrollably, “was just . . . so touching,” he sobbed.

  Thinking to myself that Emily had allowed this to go on for much longer than customary, I watched as Dominic’s eyes widened, then quickly narrowed to deceptively casual slits. Beside Emily, my view of Jake was limited, but I turned just in time to see her hand strike Jake in the face with the speed of a snake. Jake rose from her shoulder, entire face obscured by a brown napkin. I waited for it to fall away, to reveal his laughing smile—only it didn’t. After closer inspection, I realized this was because there were damp spots that kept the napkin adhered. Damp with what, though? Then I saw it—the shock of bright red peeking out near his hairline—and gasped.

  “Jake!” I called out, horrified and panicked. “You’re bleeding!”

  Before my eyes, the napkin was deteriorating, clinging to his cheeks, nose, and chin, forming long wrinkles in the thin paper and tearing in the areas where the substance was thickest. Jake didn’t move. In fact, as I looked around I saw that no one, including Maddie, seemed to be troubled by his harrowing state. Dominic and Emily had similar looks of amusement, burgeoning smirks pulling at the corners of their mouths, Maddie looked somewhat irritated but not worried, and Jake . . . well, it was only a guess, but he appeared to be . . . licking himself?

  “Unfortunately not,” Emily said mildly, and reached up to remove the napkin.

  Relief saturated the sickness in my stomach instantly. It wasn’t blood as I had rashly presumed, but ketchup. While distracted by his histrionics, Jake’s eyes remained tightly shut and blind to what had been going on right under his nose. Emily had taken the opportunity, stealthily maneuvering the napkin smothered in ketchup into her grasp. I don’t know what led me to making such an outlandish presumption; perhaps all of my daydreaming had affected my instincts. I lowered my half-risen body, straddling the bench so as not to miss anything else. Whatever the reason, seeing it was only Jake’s pride wounded and not the fragile bones of his face, was an immense relief. Not only that, it was becoming harder and harder to squelch what hummed and tickled the inside of my throat. Stained and streaked with red goop, Jake was certainly a sight. I didn’t know what anyone else thought of this, plainly because I could not take my eyes off him. I pressed my lips firmly together to keep the laughter contained. And then I didn’t wonder what everyone else was thinking.

  The roar of laughter was so loud, even though there were only four of us, nearly every voice in the cafeteria faded into silence and every head turned to see what the commotion was all about. Then there was much more than four people laughing. Jake was clearly not amused. He took two fingers and wiped them along his lower eyelids, blinking. The fine hairs lining his face from hairline to jaw soaked up the pigment. The cottony eyebrows absorbed the ketchup like dye. It pooled in the hollows of his cheek, dripped from his nose and chin, and gripped his eyelashes so that they formed dark pink triangles. It was everywhere.

  When the laughter died down enough for a single voice to be heard, Emily snatched another fry and swiped it across Jake’s cheek, declaring, “Now that’s touching.”

  “Well played, Em,” Jake congratulated with sincerity, his white teeth a stark contrast against his skin. “I’ll give you credit for thinking quick, even if it wasn’t all that original.”

  Emily laughed, rolling her head to the side. “This isn’t an art show—it’s war. And in war, you don’t win with originality; you win with accuracy,” she said smugly. “Besides, no one would consider your face to be a masterpiece, Jake,” she said with cheerful disdain.

  “I’m going to have to disagree with you on that, Em,” Maddie chimed in, smiling affectionately at Jake. She wrinkled her freckled nose. “You are starting to stink, though. What happened to all the napkins?”

  “Pfft,” came from Emily, eyebrows merged with derision. “Yeah, well your opinion is slightly biased,” she replied, not unkindly.

  Maddie tossed her braided head from side to side. “Maybe,” she allowed, concentrating on Jake as she spoke, “but I’ve seen the Sistine Chapel in person, and frankly its beauty doesn’t compare to Jake’s.”

  Emily made a show of gagging, then reached for her water bottle and raised it to her lips. They curled around the opening in a smile just before she lowered the bottle a few inches from her mouth. “Well, it’s only fair God made him pretty, Madd,” she said. “Leaving him ugly and stupid would have been really mean, don’t you think?”

  Ignoring his sister, he grinned at Maddie. “Thanks, babe,” he said, not minding being doted upon in the least. “I think you’re hot too.” Maddie returned the smile, tawny eyes besotted and sparking with amorous delight. Seeing that both of them were no longer paying her any attention, Emily rolled her eyes and took a deep swig of water.

  “What is it?” Maddie asked, furrows lining her forehead. I couldn’t see what expression was on Jake’s face, but saw him shake his head once.

  “Nothing, really,” he said, sounding a little confused. “I just didn’t know you’d been to France is all.”

  Emily tried to bring her hand up to cover her mouth in time, but failed, spewing a mouthful of water all over Dominic. Or rather she would have, had Dominic not possessed the reflexes of a minnow or some other adroit amphibian. He flung his girth to the right just in time, inadvertently knocking into Jamie and narrowly missing the fine spray of fluid as it cascaded onto the bench where he’d been sitting. Jamie, surprised by the jostle, whipped her blonde head around, her expression quickly transforming into something noticeably less bothered.

  “Sorry about that,” Dominic said immediately, smiling politely as he p
ut a bit of space between their bodies. Jamie smiled brightly in return, sending a very clear message that he needn’t apologize for the accident resulting in the fortunes of their collision. Dominic turned away from her then, and his eyes went directly to mine. I looked away quickly, settling my gaze upon Maddie, but not able to avoid the deep flush warming my cheeks.

  Maddie scowled at Emily, round face puckered and reproving. “It’s a fair mistake, Emily,” she said defensively. “I might not have known what country it was in either if I hadn’t visited as a child.”

  Without a doubt—in fact, I was almost certain I saw her start to attempt this, then give up when the effort proved to be outside her momentary means—Emily would have responded to this statement with a snarky quip, vehemently denying Maddie’s claim of ignorance. At the moment, however, Emily had her face planted in her hands, shaking, gripped by a plague of hysterical laughter. Other than coercing air into her lungs to ensure she didn’t lose consciousness, she wasn’t capable of much else just now.

  Without even meaning to, I peeked back at Dominic and—Oh! He was still watching me. I continued staring right past him, as if I had suddenly decided to scan the room and see what everyone else was up to at the moment. My heart somersaulted in my chest, and again humiliated, I flushed, relieved when I saw him from my peripheral take his eyes from me and wad up a pile of napkins. He began wiping up Emily’s spittle off the bench.

  Emily remained incapacitated throughout all of this. Jake, narrowing his eyes at Emily, was able to gauge from his sister’s reaction that he’d misspoken. “What?” he said, a sliver of embarrassment in his voice. “So it’s not in France?”

  Maddie smiled sweetly, pulling her wide lips to the side and shook her head. “Italy,” she told him. “In the Vat—Rome.”

  “Oh.”

  Emily raised her head, teary eyed and spent, at the exact second a glob of ketchup dripped from Jake’s chin and splattered on his hand. In her volatile state, Emily found this hilarious and lost herself in another round of laughter. She wasn’t the only one, apparently. Dominic, having cleaned up the area well enough to reclaim his seat, began chuckling, holding out a handful of unused napkins to Jake. Instead Maddie took them, and using Emily’s water bottle, wetted one, assessing where to start.

  “Yeah-yeah, laugh it up while you can,” Jake warned, trying to move his head and stare menacingly at Emily. Maddie held firm at his chin. “I’ll get you back, you know I will.”

  Emily, grabbing a hold of composure, inhaled deeply and released a sigh of contentment. “Of course you will, Jake,” she said, clearing her throat. “What are you going to do this time? Drive me to insanity by telling me all your knock-knock jokes?”

  “We’ll see,” Jake challenged, lifting his chin so Maddie could remove the streaks running down his neck. She had him pretty well cleaned by now; only a little bit remained inside his right ear. “Maybe I’ll drop a house on you, like they did with your sister.”

  Emily’s face transformed into one of angelic innocence. “Oh, would that be our sister who lives in France?” Jake rolled his eyes, dismissing the jab without a speck of insecurity.

  “But that shouldn’t be too difficult for you though,” Emily added in an undertone, nodding thoughtfully. “Dropping something.” Jake tensed, Maddie froze mid-swipe, and I shut my eyes, warding off what intuition told each of us was coming next. “You’ve had more than enough practice doing that with the ball.”

  Up until now, Jake had handled the insults, criticism, and invective with the utmost dignity; amazingly so when you took into consideration he’d been besieged with ketchup and laughed at by a room full of his peers. This wasn’t abnormal, though—not for Jake. Perennially happy and possibly the world’s most easy going person, he wasn’t easily unhinged. Try as she might, and she did try often, Emily rarely was able to wedge herself far enough beneath Jake’s skin to make him genuinely angry or upset—except when she passed judgment on his abilities in sports, namely water polo.

  After seeing both Jake and Emily play in a multitude of water polo games, I very honestly would put them in equal standings. They excelled evenly; though in completely different ways. Emily was decisive and aggressive—naturally—and that worked to her advantage with stunning results. Jake, true to his form, was much calmer and cautious before acting on a play. He turned into somewhat of an enigma at the moment of immersion. If you were watching closely, you could see it happen, dark blue eyes filling with quiet strength. He sleuthed through the water, each move methodical, thought out. Beyond that, he was a shining example of what it meant to be a team player. If anything, Emily’s tactics appeared more impressive for two distinct reasons: she was much louder than her brother and her style was flashy, whereas Jake’s was humble. Still, I’d wager that if one did the numbers, the outcome would queue both Donahues equitably.

  What set them apart, as I imagined it did for most athletes or any involved in competitive interests, was confidence. Emily, by far, was the more confident player; she never questioned her abilities, and if by chance she was responsible for a bad play or didn’t place in a surfing competition, it wasn’t into insecurity she sank. She would expend no energy on analyzing where her mistakes were, zero time lamenting over the loss. What she would do was improve, train harder and offer no leniency until she was sure the same mistake wouldn’t happen again. Emily was tough on everyone; most of all, though, she was tough on herself.

  Jake, softer by nature, was the more forgiving of the two. He offered empathy where Emily would instead supply tough love. In nearly every facet of his life—except food, of course—he was generous and accepting, with himself and others. Truly he was an exceptional water polo player; though unlike his sister, exempt from the drive to be the best. Jake knew it, too, and was ninety-nine percent okay with this fact. Still . . . everyone, even the most humble, is subject to feelings of vitiated pride every now and again—which meant, whatever dignity had been displayed over the last ten minutes, disappeared the second those words left Emily’s mouth.

  Ever so slightly I inclined my head toward Dominic, seeing that he didn’t need a backstory to understand the gravity of the situation. The dark crown of his head was all I could see, his eyes instinctively cast down to give Jake the only thing he could: respect to blow up without an audience. He would have one soon enough, unfortunately.

  “Jake . . . she’s kidding. It’s okay,” Maddie soothed, trying to distract him with superfluous wiping. She glared at Emily’s profile, highly annoyed, then flicked her eyes back to Jake. I could only see the back of his head, but I could feel it coming.

  “Yeah, Jake, I’m only kidding,” Emily repeated disingenuously. Jake erupted like a snow-capped volcano, slamming his fists down and shaking the entire table. Everyone seated nearby turned, then eventually the remaining cafeteria dwellers tuned in.

  Jake whirled in place, jabbing a finger in his sister’s serenely bored face. “You . . . you are . . .” He gritted his teeth, blurring from the trembles of anger. “You’re so . . .”

  Emily gave encouraging nods, or so she’d have us believe. “Beautiful? Charming?” she said offering suggestions, face flooded with mock-sincerity. “Oh! I know. I’m so wonderful and you would like to take a moment to tell everyone how thankful you are to have me as your sister.” She smiled, taking hold of Jake’s finger and pushing it away. “Don’t bother, they already know.” I leaned away instinctively as rage instantaneously surmounted anger. Jake’s eyes were swimming with murderous thoughts, and the veins in his neck bulged at terrifying angles.

  He raised the finger she’d shoved away. “You are—” He paused, a smile of derangement pulling tightly along the outsides of his lips. “UGLY!” he roared.

  Emily laughed so hard that her eyelids were nothing but puckered wrinkles. “Jake,” she said, spurting laughter, “you do know that we’re twins, right?”

  “So what! We look nothing alike!” he countered, only to make Emily throw her head back and continue laughi
ng.

  “Come on, guys,” Maddie said, terse in voice. “Don’t you think that’s enough for one day?”

  “She started it!” was Jake’s tight-lipped, uncontrolled response. I could hardly blame him for forgetting that it was actually he who had started it, mocking Emily’s quite sincere speech to Dominic. I jolted, the shock of it hitting me all at once. At the onset of Jake and Emily’s spat, all that pertained to Dominic had simply been forgotten, and I, for all my frantic worrying, had ceased in being nervous for him. I wondered idly if we might circle back around eventually . . . I hoped not.

  “She’s an awful person,” Jake added petulantly.

  “Sticks and stones, brother,” Emily said in likewise maturity. “But, maybe you should let me hold them, hm? Wouldn’t want you to drop those, too.”

  Jake was no match for his sister’s sparring wit. Emily had a gift—if one was so inclined to refer to the acquisitioning of one’s composure and self-control as a gift—for driving people past the brink of insanity, straight to demented, all without breaking a sweat. Only a handful of times had I witnessed Jake this upset, and if I remembered correctly, all three times it had been because Emily had slighted his credibility as a water polo player. Besides that, Jake was extremely well liked by his peers—were he not, however, and this was the irony of it, Emily would never allow for even one second, someone other than herself to treat him unkindly. As a result, the caliber of Jake’s insults fell somewhere in between third and fourth grade.

  I watched him, red-faced, no longer from ketchup, struggling and searching for something useful, something that would undo his sister to the degree in which he himself was presently undone. Evidently, he had something. The color drained from his face and he released a long, fizzy breath.

  “Well,” Jake began, noticeably more controlled, though still a bit jittery with the expectation and release of ultimate offense, “at least coach didn’t have to special order me a bathing suit because certain parts of my body were too big to fit in any of the normal ones.” He shot a glance behind his sister, making a point to let his eyes linger near the body part he referred to. The crowd of onlookers took a collective breath inward.