The evening went about as normally as evenings do in the Gibson household. Eventually Jon said goodbye to Karyn and came inside. Eventually Zoe's mom, Linda, came home with little brother Mikey in tow, full of energy from his after-school karate lessons. Eventually Zoe's dad, Roger, came home completely sapped of energy from his day responding to emails. And homework happened. And dinner happened. And Zoe and Jon didn't really speak to one another.
And, in the end, eventually it came time to go to bed. And Zoe retreated once again to her room, looked around at her black lace curtains, the Nightmare Before Christmas figurines that lived atop her dresser, the half-burned votive candles, the open box of incense, the poster of bats in flight, and sighed. Whatever happened outside the walls of this room, that was for outside. In here, everything was pure Zoe. And with that thought, she got into bed and went to sleep.
To sleep, perchance to dream. For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?
"I just wish I knew how to get under Jon's skin. I wish I could make him understand what it's like to be the little sister."
The words from earlier in the afternoon echoed in Zoe's mind as she drifted away. How could she get under Jon's skin? Who was the best at getting under Jon's skin?
Zoe was sitting in the bleachers, front row right on the 50-yard line, at Lake Point High School's football field. It was empty, nobody else was there. Zoe scanned the area, turning her head. No, that wasn't true. Someone was there, near the endzone, just off the sidelines.
"Sarah?" Zoe called out, getting the attention of the be-uniformed cheerleader.
Sarah McMillan, legs planted astride, hands on hips, turned in Zoe's direction. Then she gave a short, smiling wave and began jogging towards the girl.
This was strange. The two girls never got along. They hardly ever interacted, being in different grades, but when they did it had never been friendly. As the cheerleader made her approach and sat down next to Zoe on the bleacher, the visual contrast between the two was stark: Zoe covered nearly head to toe in a long-sleeve black dress, black stockings, black boots, black hair, black nail polish, and Sarah in her white uniform with blue and gold trim, white sneakers, pink nail polish, golden curls. Even Sarah's semi-permanent smile seemed to contrast with Zoe's dour demeanor.
"So I heard you want to get under your brother's skin."
Yes, yes. If anyone knew how to do that, Sarah McMillan would.
"It's simple, you just need the right attitude. Act like you're better than him, and you will feel better than him. You just have to treat him like you don't need him... like he's been discarded. It drives him nuts."
Treat him like he's been discarded. The thought stayed in Zoe's head even as the dream faded, even as she found herself waking up the next morning.
