REESE'S BREAKFAST WAS ALWAYS ORGANIZED. Her whole life was organized, but she was the only person who had a breakfast layout, as her mother fondly called it, always laughing behind her coffee as she watched daughter spend too much time making everything perfect only to take it apart. Though, even when she did, it was all perfectly calculated and even.

"She should see someone about that," her step-father mumbled, bumping into his wife right outside of their kitchen, the two peering in to find Reese puttering around, her plate on the kitchen island.

"There's nothing wrong about it, she just likes to be organized," Reese's mother argued, not about wanting to start a fight so early in the morning.

Her husband sighed long sufferingly, the sound filling the hall and gravitating towards the kitchen to where the young woman was preparing her breakfast, stopping cold in her tracks at the sound.

Reese clenched her teeth, taking deep breaths as she tried not to let him ruin her day so early in the morning. Well, if one counted nine o'clock early, which she didn't, but with her being at home and not at boarding school, there wasn't much reason for her to wake up at her usual time.

Turning her attention back to her breakfast, she adjusted the fork and knife around her plate, making sure that her strips of bacon were diagonal and connected the top and left side of the plate, separate from her toast in the middle of the plate towards the bottom left, the scrambled eggs splayed out in a crescent-like shape along the right side, save for the tangerine which she placed in the top right hand corner.

Her glass of pomegranate juice was on the top left corner next to her plate, the butter on the upper right hand side, and the newspaper folded up and placed right above her plate, and she always made sure everything was aligned and organized before she began to eat.

She had a very careful system when she went about things and she didn't like them disturbed. Of course, she could be flexible, this wasn't a problem—so she claimed, though her classmates and family would argue differently—she just liked order.

And she just wanted things done right, which was why she often did things herself. She was well off, but that didn't mean she was lazy. She could do anything if she was taught and given time to learn, just like everyone was.

She took a few more calming breaths, not yet eating, wanting to wait until she was fully present in the moment to begin, adjusting her posture on the island barstool. Her back popped, relaxing her immediately, and she rolled her neck, finally ready to eat.

She picked up her knife and started on her toast first, as it was still warm and the butter was waiting, and she ate it as she spread the butter, which she had always been taught was the more civilized way to do it. Spread, then bite, spread, then bite.

As she did, she picked up the newspaper, beginning with the headline so as being able to more easily pick it up and set it back down.

The headline was about a serial pet murderer plaguing Coral Gables, and while Reese didn't have any pets, she had to worry about whether this individual would escalate to being a serial murderer, full stop.

"Mom," she called out, setting down the newspaper before continuing on to the details, "Can we adjust the locks?"

She didn't receive an answer, which meant that her mother didn't hear her, which was often the case given how large their home was. Unfortunately, however, her step-father had been just within range and was more than happy to share his unwanted opinions on the matter.

"You should stop reading the paper if it's going to upset you," he said, walking in through the door from the living room, right in front of her, immediately making his way over towards the fridge which was behind her to her right.

"It doesn't upset me," she said, her tone flat as she tried to take a deep breath, anger flaring in her chest at the sound of his voice, "I'm being proactive."

"You're being paranoid," he countered, and she gripped the knife in her hand as he continued, "You and your mother both, you need to stop investing yourselves in things that don't concern you."

Now, Reese was learned in the art or just letting her step-father run his mouth, knowing fully well that responding wouldn't do her any good.

But it had been some time since she'd had to deal with him, so she was a little rusty.

"Caring about things that don't directly affect you is part of being a productive member of society, but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that," she tsked, taking a sip of her drink, picking up the newspaper again, trying to focus on the tiny print.

The man scoffed, and that sound made her blood boil to the point of bursting, and she could hardly take a breath to calm herself before he spoke.

"You talk about being a productive member of society as if you've done anything worthwhile with your life," he said, and she hated how he spoke.

He spoke with the kind of conversational condescension only white men in power possessed. The kind of patronizing tone only found with men with ego larger than the wallets kept in their pockets deeper than the graves they dug for those they took down to get where they were.

Reese had hated him from the moment he stepped into her mother's life, and if it weren't for that same mother, she wouldn't have held her tongue for as long as she did, and as well as she did.

No matter what the sorry excuse for a step-father said, Reese was respectful. But, like all people, she had her limits, and when it came to him, her limit was reached when he breathed in her presence.

He was going to say more—he always did—but luckily for Reese, her mother felt the absence of life within the rest of the house and decided to go seek her out, stepping through the other door and into the kitchen to check up on her daughter while also making a beeline towards the fridge.

Reese took that short window to head back upstairs, only just barely remembering to grab the newspaper to take with her. "Mom, I didn't finish, you can have my food."

Her mother started to call after her, pointing out that she was trying to watch her calories, but by then Reese was already racing up the stairs, barely audible, but still enough to let them know where she was going.

Where she was going was her now-finished room, everything she and her mother had bought together now placed exactly where they needed to be, most things new and her closet filled with clothes that she could only wear at home or the occassional party that were few and far between now that the school year was crawling to a close.

She took a deep breath as she sat down in her pod chair, picking up one of the books that she had gotten at the library when her mother insisted that she go with her downtown, leaning back to keep from having to flex her foot to try and touch the floor with her toes, which always hurt her in the end.

Back in her dorm, she always had to deal with the sound of her roommate whenever she had to read. Of course, she and her roommate got along rather fine, but her roommate liked to shift around, working on both her bed and her desk, and Reese just wanted to read in pure silence; she liked to socialize as much as the next person, but it was frustrating when other people stepped in to talk.

Of course, she hardly had any time to read in the first place, so it wasn't too major of an issue, but it was one, and yet, strangely enough, she missed the sound of another person with her, because while her roommate often forgot to put certain things away on her side of the room, she always said 'good morning' to her and asked how she was doing and tried her best to make sure that Reese was as comfortable as Reese made her.

Now, she was alone.

By didn't even know how long she was reading for, but suddenly she was three quarters of the way through and had only moved to make sure her legs didn't fall asleep. She had to admit that the chair was a good investment.

She was excited to finish the book so she could write down the name of the story into her notebook. She didn't want to think too hard on it, but she did have a lot of habits and quirks when it came to her routine, but she was happy with the arrangement and, since she wasn't hurting anyone else, it didn't matter when her step-father said, she was staying the exact same.

But before she could finish the book, there was a knock on her door. She lifted her head, sighing when the door opened before she could give permission to the person to open it; she just wanted someone to respect her enough to wait before she was comfortable with them stepping into her own space.

Either way, her mother peeked her head inside, and Reese had to take a deep breath and let it go, because at least it wasn't her step-father; she was still upset, but she would get over it. She sighed softly as she leaned back in her chair, raising an eyebrow towards her mother.

"Rick and I were talking..." she began, and Reese immediately sighed, shaking her head and walking to her bed, signaling the end of the conversation.

But her mother was persistent and it seemed she and her husband had been talking about it for some time because she had a speech memorized, knowing fully well Reese wouldn't be willing to listen.

"You've just been holed up here, everyone else is in school, and considering the...circumstances with you being here now instead of later, it's probably best that you get a job," her mother said, splaying out her palms before clasping her hands together.

Reese scoffed, turning on the bed to look at her. "A job? Mom, are you serious?"

"It wouldn't be a major commitment and you'd still be focusing on your studies," she rushed to assert, as the plan was that Reese needed to focus on her work more than ever over the summer, "You'll be doing SAT tutoring."

Reese blinked. "You're kidding me."

"It'll look really good, and you'll be helping people, and-and you're not gonna be all alone for the whole summer, please, just do it, you're gonna get paid and everything," her mother pleaded, and she looked so desperate that the immediate argument rising in Reese's throat was caught, allowing her brain to interject.

Reese didn't need money. They were more well off than people who were well off in their state—and, arguably, in their country—so it wasn't as if she was wanting for much, especially money, but considering that her step-father made a great deal about her asking for some money after her debit card was stolen and she couldn't go into town to do her laundry.

It would also be nice to shove it in her step-father's face. After all, he thought she couldn't do anything with her life, so this would be a nice example as to why she was actually worth more than he thought she was.

She didn't need to prove anything to him—she had proven enough to herself and certainly more than enough to her mom—but she often dreamt of proving him so wrong that he was unable to come up with something to save himself, so there was that incentive stacked upon there as well.

Finally, she took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."

She didn't know what it said when her mother stopped right in her tracks—Reese didn't even realize her mother had continued talking throughout her entire contemplative journey—but she was gasping for air, not unlike a fish, gawking and gaping as if Reese had just admitted she knew the cure for cancer.

"You-you will?" she gasped, and Reese sighed, shrugging.

"I will, just don't talk to me about it unless you have something for me to do, I don't really want to, but I will," she said, and her mother took that clear dismissal to heart, commenting nonsense about how excited she was and how proud she was that Reese was taking on this responsibility.

Reese could only sigh as she stared up at her canopy bed, contemplating all her choices. She should be back at school, enjoying the last two weeks before summer started for everyone in the area. Instead, she was at home, and had been for teetering on a month, with nothing to do.

It was dull and monotonous and infuriating, but at least she had the power to do what she wanted. Now, her hours would be dictated on the tutoring she had to give to people her own age who would be averse to having someone clearly more intelligent proving their intelligence and hopelessly trying to aid them in their lack of good test taking skills and time management, but rather than acknowleding that it wasn't their intelligence that was the problem, they would just assume that Reese was self-absorbed.

She couldn't wait.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 01.11.19 )

It's been a hot second, but we're back ya'll, I'm really sorry, but we're gonna be meeting Scott next time, so let's get lit!

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!