The Mars Experience

Chapter 6: Bree

It's not like I was going to let her die last night. Donna might've, though, which is odd since she's always really nice to everyone. I slip on my red coat, a strong contender for the best jacket in the world. I've had it since I was little. It's waterproof, soft, and has two huge pockets with zippers, which is really uncommon to find in girl's clothes. It's unfortunate because it's already riding up on my forearms and I don't think I'll ever be able to find one like it again. At least I didn't turn out short like Donna.

Either way, we have more important things to worry about now. Nevertheless, I am excited to see how it all plays out. Today is the day we watch the ultimate throwdown. It's not like I asked for any of this. It's like that saying about fiddling while Rome burns. I wouldn't set Rome on fire, but it's not only a hassle to try to step in and help, but admittedly fun to watch too.

Since I'm done getting dressed, I peek out the hallway and into the rooms. Vacant and bizarrely silent, with only the sound of some showers running here and there. It's like going to a playground by yourself after you grew up. You visited and played in it every day when you were little. You're so used to the noises and commotion it becomes loudly dull.

I decide to go down to the back to see Arlo, the alley dog, while I wait. He only started responding to Arlo a few weeks ago, so I doubt that was his name, if he even had a name, before. "Arlo" fits him so well. His fur is black with hints of gray, and kind of rough to pet. He's a bit skinny even though I always feed him, but I guess it's because he walks around a lot.

As I head towards where he usually is, I see Athena has made it there before me. I almost head back, expecting to break up some sort of fight. Or, I guess, since Arlo's sweet, just get him away from her in case she has allergies. But, to my surprise, they're playing. I listen in before interrupting, and all I can hear is "Winston! I missed you!" in between various giggles.

"Hey," I approach. "What's going on?"

"Oh hey! Sorry. This is Winston. He used to live by my house before the construction. The loud noises scared him away and I never found him until now." She tries to look at me but focuses on Arlo, who jumps on her and licks her face. Even though she sneezes periodically, she keeps playing with him. Bewildering.

She deserves some alone time with her lost dog. I'm about to head out when I notice the clothes she's wearing. She looks like she's had a fight with a pig. The outfit is compounded of ruined jeans Donna wore every year during the county mud race, a grease-stained shirt, and mom's potato jacket. Donna made the jacket out of a potato bag in a mother-daughter sewing class. It may be scratchy, dirty, and dusty with sleeves that are way too long, but it still maintains the faint smell of her perfume. She wore it all the time. She loved that jacket.

I rush back upstairs and open Donna's door. "You gave her mom's jacket." I initially planned to be mad at her for giving a dying girl clothes that belong in the trash, but, now, I can't stop thinking about mom. Before I know it, I feel tears coming out my eyes. "Why would you do that? It's not gonna smell like her anymore."

As I wait for an answer, I hold my breath and count to ten, wiping away the liquid from my face.

She pulls me to the bed and puts a scarf over me. "I didn't give her mom's jacket. I made a new one last night. She would've needed something to wear."

I'm so jarred I forget the reason I was holding back my tears. "I thought you hated her."

"I do," she laughs. "But it wouldn't make sense for me to take her in and make her life hell, would it?"

She stops looking away and grips my shoulder, turning serious. "I'm only telling you this because I trust you. I can't make her feel welcome until I know this isn't some kind of elaborate plan."

She walks me over to her closet, where a cookie box holds the neatly folded jacket, some soaps, perfume, and jewelry. I can barely have a peek inside before she closes it back up to stash it.

I want to tell her she doesn't have to take care of us anymore. That it's not like when we were little. But what good would that do? I nod, giving her the scarf back, and head back to the guys' room's bathroom to wash my face.