Marney in the Middle

Chapter 21: Seeing is Not Understanding

A/N: A song accompanies this chapter (above). Also, I hope you all like this chapter. I went back and forth on whether to write from Reese's POV for a solid few weeks. So yeah, enjoy.
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Reese's POV

Malcolm's talking at me (nothing new there). But this isn't my fault. It's not like I literally invited that meth dealer and his druggy buddies over. This is supposed to be a party – not a good way to get arrested. He's the "smart" one; he needs to figure out how to get us out of this mess. I've got other things to do. Actually, where is Marney?

Tuning him out, I glance over his head into the backyard.

My heart drops into my bowels.

She's out there. Right out back. Sitting on the picnic table, busy straddling the meth dealer, who crashed my supposed-to-be-awesome house party to make his "product" in my parents' garage.

Wow...

I grimace and want to look away, but don't. Can't. Like my mind needs me to watch longer until it physically hurts. Getting there. My chest constricts until it's difficult to breathe. Why—

"Are you even listening anymore?"

That greasy creep has his hands all over her. Gripping her waist in the same way I did earlier, his mouth latched onto hers as if he's giving her mouth-to-mouth. That should be me out there. Stupid drug dealing asshole. First he ruins my party and now he takes my girl?

Shifting my weight from my left to right foot, I crack my knuckles. Not a chance. I'll deal with this the old fashioned way. The fight in me falters – he'll probably kill me. But I gotta, right? There's no other way around this.

I dig my nails into the palm of my hand and wince as he brushes her hair back from her face. Should be me. She smiles up at him before they resume kissing.

Why isn't that me? And why am I not mad her?

"Hello? Earth to Reese!" Malcolm waves a hand inches from my face.

I smack it away with a glare that's still leveled on the two of them swapping saliva. Is she worth getting my ass kicked? She's so weird. Like the weirdest girl I've ever met. But... I sigh as my shoulders hunch. Yeah, kinda worth it. No one's ever looked at me or even talked to me like she does. Seems like something I should fight for. Damnit.

Another bounce of my heart hits my bowels.

Maybe I could be mad at her instead of dealing with the meth dealer. It could me things simpler. Scratching the back of my neck, my brow furrows as I think that over. Probably not. There's nothing simple about girls. And.. to be honest, I'm not mad. Just.. confused.

Malcolm finally turns around to follow my gaze. I try to stop him.

He'll never let me live this down. I let this party crasher – the one that's not my fault – man-handle my date. He and the twerp will have a grand time rubbing this in my face.

I punch his shoulder. My knuckles dig into his flesh, jarring off his shoulder bone. He shoves me and looks anyway.

"Oh," is all he says.

"Let me guess: this is my fault, too?"

He faces me again. There's an odd expression there. His lips are thinned into a line, and his eyebrows are bunched in the middle of his big forehead. He glances down at his shoes and fingers a loose button on his yellow and orange plaid shirt.

"What?"

"I don't know," he mumbles. "She's drunk."

"You gave her alcohol?!" I put up my hands, eyes widening as I lean forward. Now I gotta kick both their asses. Just great. "Why would you do that?!"

"It wasn't me," he says with a glare. Stomping his foot, he rolls his eyes, "It was Donny. Who, by the way, is here because of you."

I grind my teeth together. Not this again.

"Anyway, that's not the point." Malcolm says after a low sigh. "We can deal with her later. Right now—"

"Shouldn't we deal with her first," I ask, trying to keep the hope and hurt from my voice. Screw if I let him know what this is doing to me. How she's affecting me. She's making me soft, I realize with a bitter twinge in my back.

Before her, I could be mad at anyone. Guy or girl. Now I can't even muster up so anger for this girl whose making me feel about ten inches tall.

"Fine. Both simultaneously." He glares above my head – a habit that irritates the crap out of me. "Right now we need to get this guy out of here before we get arrested, or worse, killed."

I gulp and nod in quick agreement. "How?"

He frowns and searches the kitchen. I follow his gaze, but don't find anything useful. Except the boiling water.

"I got it," I point to the pot, "We'll melt his face off."

"What—no! Don't be an idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot, Idiot." I punch him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" He grabs where I hit him, rubbing it with his hand. "Ok, fine."

"Well, think." Leaning back against the kitchen table, I cross my arms. "You're supposed to be the smart one."

"I am; give me a minute."

As Malcolm mulls over a solution, I catch myself watching them again. They're still going at it. She's so into it. Or maybe she's not. Maybe she's under some love spell that he slipped in her drinks. I roll my eyes, unlikely. That's just something Marney cooked up in one of her weird stories. Sighing, I push the memory of her telling me about them as far from my mind as I can.

Seriously, how long can two people kiss before their need for air forces them to stop? Obviously a long time. I do like her, but I sorta wish I didn't at this point. Girls are nothing but trouble. A heartache that isn't worth the time.

But she kinda is... maybe. I just want to know what's going on.

"I've got it," Malcolm announces before going to the phone by the back hallway/ laundry area. He dials without telling me what he's up to. Whatever. As long as he fixes this. Gets the meth dealer outta here and off Marney.

This sucks. People suck. Why would she do this?

Alcohol, according to Malcolm. Would that really make her do something like this? Kiss a complete stranger?

I shrug, possibly. Or maybe I've done something wrong.