Chapter 12
With the weather being bad all through the last week, Clarke was glad to have some dryer weather. It hadn’t rained since Wednesday, and while the weather was still growing colder due to it being the second week of October it was nice enough to allow Clarke to walk to school that morning and not have her deal with Octavia, Bellamy and Raven in Bellamy’s truck for the upteenth time that fall. Most days she wouldn’t have minded it, but today was one that she just wanted to be alone during. Her mother had given her the option to stay home, just like she did every year, but just like every year Clarke declined it. She had to go to school, had to distract herself with her work and try and focus on anything but what the date was.
It was October 16th.
Jake Griffin died three years ago that day.
The thought alone sent shivers down Clarke’s spine as she walked to school, the beat to Halsey’s “Hurricane” being what her feet stepped along to. She had left far earlier than what she usually would have, but she really wanted to make sure that she would be alone. Abby had offered to drive Clarke to school but she declined, just like she always did. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful for her mother; she loved her mother dearly and she appreciated everything that Abby did for her. But it just wasn’t the same. Nothing had been the same since her father passed and as much as she wanted to blame some one for what happened, the only thing she could blame was the laws of physics.
As she arrived at the school she looked at the doors and contemplated going in right away. Going into the school meant starting the treacherous day all the sooner, and while she would rather get the day over with she wanted to postpone it for as long as possible. She made her way past the school and towards the football field. The music continued to pound through her headphones as she climbed up the bleachers, picking a spot in the middle as she looked out on the field.
She remembered how her father loved to come to Bellamy’s football games and cheer him on even if he was only on JV at the time. He would yell along with the crowd with every score of Arkadia and boo with every score of the opposite team. He would be so passionate over every little thing and Clarke found herself hugging the sweatshirt that was a few sizes too big for her smaller frame. It was dark blue and had the word “Yale” across the chest in big white letters- her father’s university. She had found it while she and her mother were going through his things, figuring out what to give to goodwill and what to keep. The moment she saw the sweater and remembered how he would wear it while tending to the The on long autumn nights, she couldn’t part with it. It still had a faint smell of his usual cologne, but Clarke knew that it had to be because her mother still bought a new bottle every year to spray his pillow with.
She felt the vibrations on the bleachers before she saw the person coming up the stairs. At first she had assumed it was one of the football players getting in morning cardio, but the person walked over to her and sat down next to her. The semi-familiar cigarette smell wafted in her direction and she let her eyes close- Lincoln was the person who had found her. A part of her was relieved that it was him and not Lexa or Octavia or Raven- as much as she loved them she didn’t want them to see her right now. Octavia always gave her sympathy on this day and Raven tried too hard to make her smile. Lexa wouldn’t understand what was going on because she didn’t know what day it was and what it meant to her.
She removed her headphones and paused her music, letting the silence flood over them. In the distance she could hear cars starting to pile into the parking lot; doors slamming and people conversing with their friends as if their lives weren’t affected by what day it was. They weren’t; they were the lucky ones. Lincoln wasn’t the one to break the silence between them.
“I thought you were Lexa’s ride.” Clarke mumbled, pulling the sleeves of the sweatshirt over her hands.
“I am. She wanted to come early- something about needing help from a teacher.” Lincoln replied, taking a drag from his cigarette.
Clarke didn’t question it. She remained silent, valuing it while she could. A few moments passed before she reached over, taking the cigarette from between his fingers and bringing it to her lips. The smoke had given her that same controlled breathing that it had at the beginning of the school year and she was grateful for it. She let the smoke out of her lungs and looked up at the sky, closing her eyes as she took another drag then handed it back to Lincoln. Still, the man was silent.
“Why do you always show up when I’m feeling emotional?” Clarke asked him, her arms returning to hugging herself.
“Gut feeling, I guess. That and the fact that Raven and Octavia showed up with Bellamy, but you didn’t. When I asked, Bellamy said that you walked to school.”
“So you came looking for me?”
Lincoln smiled. “Not exactly.” He stated plainly, ashing out his cigarette as if for emphasis.
Clarke nodded, getting the message. They were silent again.
“It’s.. the three year anniversary of my father’s death.” She whispered out into the open, as if she couldn’t believe it herself. The wind picked up slightly and tears pricked at her eyes, memories flooding to her.
She swallowed and squeezed her eyes closed, biting back the tears. She didn’t want to keep crying. The more she cried the more real it felt. Today had already felt like a dream that she couldn’t wake up from; the more she thought about it the more she just wanted to cry. Her mind was in a constant spiral of things that she couldn’t break apart or comprehend and she was starting to second-guess her decision to come to school that day. A hand on her knee made her eyes open and she looked over at Lincoln curiously, her brow softening when she realized that he had moved to open his arms. She leaned into him, letting his arms wrap around her. If she thought hard enough, she could imagine his arms were her father’s and that calmed her. Jake would have wanted her to be happy. To be okay.
So she tried her damnedest, even as Lincoln guided her into the school and to her first hour.
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She hated the looks that her teachers were giving her. Their sympathetic eyes rivaled Octavia’s and made her feel like she was made of porcelain, destined to break at any moment. Every time they passed over her name when asking questions she would sink further into the sweatshirt wrapped around her body and hope that the day would be over soon. The sooner the school day was over the sooner she could go home and brood until evening when the Blake’s would come over and they’d all have a cookout and a bonfire.
It was something that Bellamy suggested a few days before the first anniversary. Jake had loved to cook for both families and spend time with them all, and what better way to remember such a loving man than by doing what he loved to do with them? So it became a tradition. Marcus would run the grill and after they ate they’d sit around the fire, singing songs that Jake loved and sharing their favorite memories of him. It was bittersweet and most of the time nobody was dry-eyed by the time it was over.
When the bell rang Clarke had never been more grateful to hear the noise of ringing metal. The only downside to this was that her next class she shared with Octavia, who was without a doubt going to question her about why she had walked to school and why she hadn’t been answering any text messages, even if the day alone should have been a good enough excuse. While they did share drama with Lexa, Clarke just wanted to be alone. But she should have known that things weren’t going to be that easy.
“Ah, Clarke. Good, just the person I wanted to see.” Anya stated as Clarke entered the hallway to the main stage, causing the blonde to raise an eyebrow. “Act one, scene three. On the stage you go.”
They had started doing run throughs of the scenes that week. Clarke had forgotten.
“Anya, I can’t today, please-”
“Clarke, not knowing your lines is not an excuse. You’ve had the script for weeks, if you weren’t willing to put in the dedication you should have declined your role.”
“No, no I know my lines but-”
“Then you should have no problem getting onstage and performing them.”
“Anya please-”
“There are no excuses, Clarke!”
“My dad died today, Anya! Give me a freaking break!” Clarke yelled, immediately regretting raising her voice and closing in on herself. She shook her head and turned, quickly walking out of the drama room and out into the hallway.
Anya stood there, speechless and frozen until she shook herself out of it and walked onto the stage with a sigh. “There’s been a change of plans, class. We will run through scene three tomorrow. Onto scene four- John, Kyle, Wells, let’s go. We don’t have all day.”
Octavia had already been on the stage next to Lexa, but when she heard her friend yelling she felt Lexa stiffen next to her. The air had grown thin and the brunette’s first instinct was to run off after Clarke, but Octavia stopped her. “She’s.. I’ll go after her, okay? It’s a touchy subject-”
“I know what happened, Octavia, she told me. I just.. I didn’t know the day.” Lexa explained. “Please-”
Octavia met Lexa’s pleading eyes but she was torn. Shaking her head she grabbed the girl’s arm and walked offstage, not bothering to look back at Anya. She’d take the absence if it meant that Clarke was okay.
“We’ll be back, Anya!” Lexa called over her shoulder as they left, but once in the hallway Lexa wasn’t sure where to go. “Octavia, where could she-”
“Stop asking questions and just follow me.” Octavia grumbled, throwing her backpack over one shoulder as she headed down the hallway. They went into the nearest bathroom, just in case Clarke went there, but to no avail it was empty. Octavia pulled out her phone.
Text to: ALL
Octavia: If Clarke was to say, have a mental breakdown, where would she go?
Bellamy: Nearest bathroom?
Octavia: Tried that. Anyone else?
When a reply didn’t come in right away Octavia huffed, growing frustrated. She ran a hand through her hair and started to pace, thinking of all the places that Clarke could have gone. Lexa leaned against the cool wall, watching as Octavia paced. She fought the urge to chew her nails out of fear that something could happen to Clarke- her worries were going ballistic. Yes, she knew what happened with Clarke’s father but she didn’t know what day it happened. Clarke hadn’t told her that and if she had she would have tried a lot harder to be around her girlfriend that day.
Both Lexa and Octavia looked to Octavia’s phone on the sink when it vibrated.
Monty: The art room.
Octavia noticed that it wasn’t said in the group chat, but she’d question her friend’s reasoning at a later time.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When she left the drama room, Clarke really wanted to run all the way home. She wanted to cry her eyes out on her parents bed while she surrounded herself in whatever clothes her mother kept of her father’s and just engulf herself in his smell. But if she did that she would be removing the purpose in going to school that morning in the first place. So she went to the next best place.
Hannah Green’s art room had been a place that Clarke always felt safe. She had taken drawing as an actual class her freshman year before, but the art room had always been her refuge. The past two years she had spent her free period in the room, listening to Hannah teach the kids that were looking into art as a profession, hobby or just as an elective to graduate. She loved seeing the way that everyone expressed themselves and it didn’t hurt that she got to partake in the activities as well. If it wasn’t for the fact that Wallace had told her she needed to pick a new elective instead of retaking one or having another free period, she would have taken drawing again.
As she walked into the room with tears brewing at her eyes, she noticed how everyone was working. Which meant that nobody looked at her. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders as the smell of paint thinner and canvas met her nose; she could feel herself calming down instantly. Hannah met her gaze and gave her a soft smile, waving her over.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you in here, Clarke.” Hannah stated, leaning against her desk. “Don’t you have class?”
Clarke returned her smile and nodded shyly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Yeah but.. I kind of.. You know..” She sighed, trying to find the words. “It’s October 16th.”
Realization washed over Hannah’s face and she nodded, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I just kinda.. I needed to get away from class.. To try and calm down, y’know?” Clarke explained. “This room has been my safe place since it happened and well..”
“Say no more, Clarke, I understand. Unfortunately, we don’t have any free seats..”
“It’s okay- I can just stand on the side or something-”
“But the storage room is free.” Hannah grinned, nodding in the direction of the storage room. Clarke smiled at her and nodded, then made her way back into the storage room.
The room was exactly what a storage room was supposed to be. It was full of canvases of old students who didn’t pick up their work, extra paint and paintbrushes, tubes to hold art that was on paper and other various things. There was a table in the center of the room, with shelves on either side of the room holding the aforementioned supplies. Clarke stepped forward, running her fingers along the table and smiling at the splays of paint here and there when students got a little messy. Setting her bag on the floor she walked over to the canvases, running her fingers over the dusty material. One in particular caught her eye.
Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled the canvas out from the pile, removing the dust from the top and side. She swallowed as she put it on the table, looking it over and recognizing every brush stroke from years before. It was a piece she was working on for her father’s birthday her freshman year. It was a portrait- a picture that her mother had taken the summer before when they were at the zoo. Both herself and Jake were in the picture, her father trying to feed a giraffe but the giraffe had taken an interest in trying to eat Jake’s hair instead. He had a look of horror on his face but Clarke’s had a look of pure joy and laughter. It was one of her favorite pictures of him.
The painting had gone unfinished.
Her eyes scanned over the painting, noticing details she had immediately put in and how it all seemed to start with her father then branch out around the canvas. She remembered when she started painting it, how she couldn’t get the colors to blend to get the right color of blue and it took her almost a week in class to get the right color. She placed her fingers to the dried paint, a small smile forming on her lips as she felt the textured grooves in each paint stroke and how the colors blended together to form his face. The rest of the painting was merely outlined, a light pencil and suddenly stopped brush strokes from when she wasn’t able to entirely fill in a section. She took a deep breath and set the painting on the table, resting her hands beside it. She missed him. She really missed her father and at this point she felt like there was nothing she could do about it. As she stared at the painting, her heart hurting more and more with every glance at her father’s finished face, she found herself talking herself into finishing it.
So she did.
She gathered the extra materials that remained in the storage room and felt her body humming as she ran her fingertips over the bristles of the paintbrushes. The room was quickly filled with the scent of acrylic paint as she started making slow strokes, spreading color around and blending to make the illusion of fabric. She painted and painted well until the bell rang, and by that point she had only a quarter of the painting left to do. She heard people in the classroom start to pack up; conversations of plans for the weekend and what they’re doing for lunch that day muffled by the steel door. She stared down at the almost-finished painting and the glint in her father’s eye is what triggered her breakdown. It started off small, with few tears falling down her cheeks in steady streams and grew to where she was letting out broken sobs and had pushed the paint and brushes and canvas to the side, resting her head on the table.
It was only when she felt two comforting hands on her back that she realized she wasn’t alone. With teary eyes she looked up at Octavia, then at Lexa, and in that moment she was very grateful that she had the loving friends, and girlfriend, that she did.
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Clarke hadn’t talked to anyone else for the rest of the day, but she did accept Bellamy’s offer for the ride home. All the crying that happened throughout the day had her feeling exhausted, making her glad that she had time between after school and the bonfire. When she woke up, she talked to her mom about inviting Lexa, mentioning how even though she never got to meet him, Clarke wanted Lexa to be able to hear about how her father was. Abby had agreed, stating that Jake would have loved to meet Lexa.
Hours later had Clarke sitting in front of the fire, nursing a root beer as her friends talked amongst themselves. Marcus was grilling while Aurora and Abby set the picnic table for one of the last cookouts they’d be able to really have before snow started to fall. The blonde stared at the fire, her eyes red from the crying she had done throughout the day as she listened to the small talk that the Blake’s and Raven were making on either side of them. There was one spot free next to Clarke, where Lexa would undoubtedly sit when she arrived.
Her ears perked up when the small talk between her friends formed a rhythm, and she found herself smiling softly as she recognized the tune. She shook her head at them, watching as Octavia clapped the beat as Bellamy took over the verse.
“But man, he had it comin'
Now that Janie's got a gun
She ain't never gonna be the same!~”
She laughed as they all continued on, alternating the verses of one of her father’s favorite songs. It was the first time she had really laughed all day- most of it was spent crying or wallowing in her own mental pain. She hated thinking that he wasn’t around, but she knew that he would love to see her friends making a fool of themselves singing Aerosmith at the top of their lungs. When they finished the song she clapped for them, giving Bellamy the high five he offered.
Clarke glanced over her shoulder as Abby called them all to dinner, but her heart sank a little when she realized that Lexa wasn’t there yet. Was she not going to show up? She said that she was going to come, that she would be there. She said that she wouldn’t miss it, that she wanted to be there-
“I hope I’m not too late,” Clarke looked up, seeing the soft eyes of her girlfriend as she walked into the backyard. “I thought it’d only be necessary to have a bonfire with s’mores..”
Abby smiled at her and nodded, nodding for Lexa to join the rest of the teens at the picnic table. She took a spot next to Clarke and Clarke immediately placed her hand on Lexa’s thigh, like a warm, unspoken thank you. Lexa kissed her cheek then began to make herself a plate, showing no sign of uneasiness around the family setting.
“Did Lincoln not want to come?” Abby asked from across Clarke.
“He did, but he had to do some stuff for our mother. I assured him that I’d be able to get here just fine without him. He does send his condolences, though.” Lexa explained, noticing how Octavia seemed to deflate slightly and the way Raven’s lips tightened.
From then on they spent the rest of the night singing and laughing around the fire, using up the s’mores materials that Lexa had brought as they sat in a circle. Clarke had expressed tears of joy, tears of sadness and words of comfort, but one story stuck out to her.
“I remember.. It was not too long after we moved in next door.” Bellamy recountered, fiddling with the stick in his hands as he pushed a marshmallow on the end. “I was.. Six, Octavia was five. Her birthday was coming up at the time. Anyways.. You see that tree over there?” He asked, pointing to the big oak tree near the property line between the Griffin’s and the Blake’s yards. “I had gotten stuck in it. I was almost at the top- I was trying to get O and Clarke to climb up there with me, but they were too chicken to do it.” He let out a laugh as Octavia lightly punched his shoulders. “But uh, I couldn’t get back down, and I started crying. Octavia laughed at me and Clarke ran inside and got Jake. He came back out, reminded me of Superman, you know? Sure, he had a ladder but he was coming to save me. And that’s what he did. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal now, but hey, I was six. I thought I wouldn’t be able to get out of that tree.” He looked down at his feet and let out a sigh, chewing on his lip. “Jake was like a hero to me, even when we all grew up- even after Marcus and my mom got together, no offense,” Marcus shook his head and smiled. “He’ll always be like Superman to me.”
Everyone was silent for a moment until Bellamy’s marshmallow caught fire and he panicked, making it drop entirely into the fire. Clarke found herself smiling sadly as she leaned into Lexa, who was trying to remember the picture that Clarke was painting earlier. The way that Jake had looked, the way he held himself, it did seem very Superman-like and Lexa found herself wanting to meet him. Growing up without a father in general was hard, but growing up with one and then losing one had to be harder.
As the night came to a close Clarke buried her face in Lexa’s neck, taking in the way the natural scent of her girlfriend went with the smell of the sweatshirt that she still had on. Both gave her a different feeling of serenity but together, they made Clarke feel the safest she’s ever been. In that moment, watching how Lexa was intimately listening to the stories about her father and taking in every detail like she had to write a report on it, she found herself falling harder for the brunette, and Clarke wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be scared of what was to come, or if she should embrace it and face every hardship that was undoubtedly going to arise with her head held high, and her heart being protected by the girl who came into her life by ridiculing her about a no-phone policy.