Despite how jumpy Jamie feels when waiting for John, she doesn't point it out to herself. If she did, she knew she would criticize herself beyond what is necessary.
She wipes her face for the fifth time in three minutes, still feeling the tears she cried some hours ago. It stalls her thinking, slowing down her reactions. Still, she flinches instinctively when John jumps in front of her, her elbow reeling back into the locker behind her.
"Why are you so jumpy?" he scoffs, turning to walk home. Jamie follows silently, picking at her wraps.
"I'm always jumpy," she mumbles beneath her breath. In truth she was, looking over her shoulder no matter what. She's just not able to hide it like she used to. She blames Andrew for that.
His image flashes in her head, making her pace slow to a halt. It gains John's attention, noticing her silence for once. He looks at her before looking down the sidewalk, seeing they're not even close to their house. "The fuck you doing?" he scoffs, moving to stand in front of her.
She plays with her wraps once more before asking, "Do you put me before yourself?" She gives him a glance, hearing his silence.
"The hell you talking about?"
"Do you care about me more than you care about yourself?" she tries to clarify. For a moment there's only silence. It lingers too long, giving Jamie her answer before John can stutter something out. "Figured," she scoffs, walking past him. She doesn't get far as John pulls her back by her arm.
"I care about you."
"Bullshit."
"Where is all this coming from?" he groans. "We were fine until that jock got all in your head." She watches as his features soften, but it only makes her's harden. Her anger boils over when he leaned down to stare at her eyes directly before whispering, "He's messing with your head."
"Fuck you!" she barks, yanking her arm from his grasp. "It's always been you first. You always place yourself before me. 'Oh let me do this first. Help me first! We'll do what you want, just help me out first!'" she mimes him. A dry laugh leaves her, shaking her head at him. "That 'jock' you're talking about was there for me for an hour. An hour!" she emphasizes. "But we only talk for twenty of them. The other forty we were fucking." She watches his eyes become wide before narrowing. She sees the anger seething through him and running through his veins. And she fucking loves it.
"You fucked him?!"
"Yep. And you know what? Me being with him for an hour was more time than you could ever give me the seventeen years we've been alive!!!"
By the time she falls from her high, she finally notices how he seems to draw back, wanting to hide away like she wanted to do. But she doesn't let guilt take over her senses, knowing it's how he'll trap her again. Instead, she tells him something.
"I'm going out on a date tonight. You will deal with mom and dad on your own like you have forced me to deal with for weeks now. I'll update on what you've missed." She clears her throat, wanting to say these words for a long time now. "Daddy doesn't smoke cigars anymore, John. He smokes cigarettes, and you have to buy a new pack every week with your money. And Daddy doesn't eat turkey pot pies, he eats TV dinners now. He has a beard now, too, not stubble. And he doesn't hit with his hand, he hits with a belt now, John. You have fun with that while go fuck the Andrew Clark until I can barely walk tomorrow." With that, she gives her brother a pat on her shoulder, walking towards Andrew's house.
YOU ARE READING
the latter | andrew clark ✅
Fanfiction"You know how leftovers aren't as good as when you had it that first night?" Andrew nods slowly, a look of confusion on his face. "Where's this going?" he wonders, getting shushed in response. "So..." she trails off, "think of John as the food you...
