by T. A. Kunz
“Yeah, and this Carrie girl must be the friend they were tip-toeing around talking about last night. She helped create the game and made the mask I wore while playing,” he explains.
“Apparently she went to middle school with a few people here,” I say. “Everyone I’ve talked to said she died mysteriously. I looked her up last night and could only find an old news story about how she fell off a cliff into Lake Wilson while riding her bike. All of her social media pages have been wiped clean, like she’s disappeared from the internet or something. I didn’t think you could do that, but apparently there’s a way.”
He frowns. “Wait, she’s dead? They were talking about her last night like she just left the group, not that she died.” He exchanges a look with me that reflects the same eerie uncertainty I feel. “Do you think one of them left this at your house for some reason?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I reply. “How did you meet these people? Did Lori introduce you to them?”
“No. They come into the café to hang out. I actually saw Lori with them before the party that night. My co-worker was the one who pointed out they’d all been friends since middle school.”
That has me rubbing a sudden chill from my arms. “Did they say what happened to Carrie?”
“No. They didn’t even mention her by name. Like I said, they kind of dodged the whole thing and focused on Lori. I didn’t think to ask more since she came up at the same time Lori did. I didn’t want to pry.”
My mind swirls with all this new information. “Funny that Lori never mentioned this group to me. The only one she ever said anything about was Carrie.” I shake my head. “This is getting really weird. Do you think I could meet this group?”
“You’re in luck,” he says. “One of them, Connor, asked me to go to the Homecoming game tonight. I planned to introduce you to him anyway.”
“Perfect. Maybe he can shed some light on this whole situation.”
“Yeah.”
Students begin passing by, filing into the school. I take the diary back from Donovan and tuck it in my bag. When I look up, I notice Donovan’s eyes are fixed on something over my shoulder. I follow his line of sight and see Harrison headed our way.
There goes my plan to avoid him today.
“Want me to intervene?” asks Donovan.
“No, it’s cool. He’s been really nice lately. I’m trying not to like him, but he’s making it very difficult.”
“What’s not to like?” he asks, elbowing me lightly in the side.
I flash him a “Really?” stare and he responds with a shoulder shrug.
“Good morning,” Harrison speaks up behind me.
A twinge of nervousness nips at my gut.
“I’ve got to get to my locker before class,” Donovan says as he begins to move away. Talk to you later, Drea. Later, Harrison.”
I try to send him a signal to stick around, but he’s already committed to his decision. My focus switches to Harrison, who’s all smiles.
“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he says.
“Sorry, no … I haven’t voted for you yet for Homecoming king.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask. I don’t really care about that. It does have to do with Homecoming though,” he says, moving closer to me.
I tense. My hand clutches my bag tighter at the mere thought of what he might want to ask me.
“Oh,” is all I manage to get out.
“Would you by any chance want to go with me to the dance tomorrow?”
His smile gives the question extra pizazz in the delivery department. My free hand brushes a few strands of loose hair behind my ear as my brain stalls on his question. The very last thing on my mind is the dance or any other normal high school activities. I seem to be one of the few who haven’t just up and forgotten about what happened to Lori. Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted by his offer.
“I don’t know,” I say and his face falls. “I appreciate you asking me. I do. But I’m just not sure I’m even going.”
He combs his hand through his hair and it bounces right back into place. “I get it. No worries. But if you change your mind, the offer stands.” He gives me a half smile. “You are coming to the game tonight though, right?”
I nod delicately. “Yeah.”
A twinge of guilt pricks my heart because the main reason I’ll be there is to talk with Donovan’s date about Carrie. He doesn’t need to know that though.
“Glad to hear it. I’ll see you there then,” he says.
I nod before he walks away.
He’s getting a lot harder to deny.
When I enter the school, the voting table shines like a beacon in the night with Addie positioned behind it. She tries to wave me over, but I duck into the bathroom. I can’t deal with her asking again if I’ve voted yet. I just can’t bring myself to see Lori’s name crossed out on the ballot. It’s too soon.
Add that to the ever-growing list of things I’m trying to avoid.
The bathroom dampens the low roar of the student body crowding the hall outside. Luckily, I have all the books I need for my first couple classes due to homework last night, so there’s no need to go to my locker before the first bell. Addie will have packed up by then and I can safely make my way to first period.
I head over to the bank of sinks lining the mirrored wall and brace myself on the one in the middle. My desperate desire to talk to Lori has hit a fever pitch. I want to confide in her about everything that’s going on. One thing I could count on before our falling out was her ability to make me laugh. I miss that.
The large window in the bathroom blows open, slamming against the wall. I flatten my hand over my chest at the startling sound. Wind flows through the space, ruffling my clothes as I approach to close the window. I shut it and click the latch. Girls usually come in here and smoke by the window, which probably explains why it was left open.
A gaggle of girls enters the bathroom, clucking like a bunch of hens. I duck into the nearest stall and perch myself on top of the toilet seat, pretending I’m not there.
“And here I thought Harrison was going to ask you to the dance, Sophia,” I overhear.
“Chloe, I don’t blame him for wanting to ask Drea,” Sophia replies, piquing my attention. “She’s the charity case of the season. First, she removes herself from all of her extracurriculars, and then her best friend is murdered. Harrison has always had a big heart when it comes to stuff like that.”
My cheeks are lashed with heat from the anger building inside me. Her words feel like multiple daggers in my back. I can’t believe my ears. Here I thought Sophia was my friend, my teammate, but she’s just a stereotypical mean girl in sheep’s clothing. I want to burst out of the stall and see the look on her face, but stop short when someone else chimes in.
“I hear that’s not the only big thing he has,” another girl says, causing the gaggle to giggle.
“Drea may have him for Homecoming, but I’ll have him for Senior Prom. Just wait and see, ladies,” Sophia vows.
“You might have him for Homecoming too, girl,” Chloe says. “Once he sees you crowned queen, he may just drop Little Miss Pity Party.”
“That’s definitely one positive thing to come from Lori’s death,” says Sophia with a smarmy titter. “She won’t take my votes for queen.”
That’s it. I can’t sit here and listen to this any longer.
I rip the latch on the stall door to the side and throw it open, sending it crashing against the neighboring stall. “Unbelievable! I seriously can’t believe you, Sophia.” It takes everything inside of me not to haul off and smack her across the face. “You’re an incredibly selfish asshole, you know that?”
All four of the girls spin to look at me. Their faces reflect their dismay. Sophia starts to say something, but I cut her off.
“You’re all just a bunch of catty little bitches.”
With that, I rush out of the bathroom, not giving them a chance to respond. I slam right
into a solid body and tumble to the hallway floor. My bag slides off my arm. I watch the contents spill out, scattering across the hall. My ass twinges in pain after the hard impact. My eyes drift up to see Trent standing there.
Great, just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.
“Damn, Drea, sorry,” he says, extending his hand out for mine.
I take it begrudgingly and he helps me to my feet.
“Yeah, well, I guess I was the one who ran into you, so no harm, no foul,” I say as I begin to collect my things and stuff them back into my bag. He bends down to help me. “Please don’t,” I tell him. “I may have let you help me up, but this isn’t some way for you to work off community service hours with me.”
“You know what, Drea? I’m really trying here,” he says as he stands back up.
“Trent, please stop trying so hard. One apology isn’t going to make up for everything you’ve done.”
“Fine. Have it your way.”
I notice the hall is focused on our interaction. Then Sophia and her squad exit the bathroom and join the crowd watching us. Their presence has my anger mounting.
“Just leave me alone, okay?”
“Maybe you should listen to her, Trent,” I hear Harrison say nearby. He moves past me and stands nose to nose with Trent.
“Harrison, stop. I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, okay? I got this,” I say through clenched teeth.
Trent says something in a whisper that I can’t hear. It drives Harrison over the edge. He grabs Trent by the shirt collar and shoves him up against the locker. The crunch of the metal echoes through the hall along with a chorus of collective gasps.
I grab Harrison by the shoulder. “Stop it! He isn’t worth this.”
He turns to me, his face flushed. The football coach shouts from down the hall and Harrison releases his grip on Trent. He storms off when he notices the coach approaching through the gathered crowd.
The first bell rings and the halls begin to empty. My eyes move over to Trent, who is busy adjusting his shirt’s collar.
“I hope you’re satisfied with yourself,” he says, glaring at me.
All of the anger drains from me at once. “Not really,” I murmur before taking off toward my first class.
I need to be better than this.
Donovan
I was supposed to be off work today. It was supposed to be a day I could put most of my focus on Connor. Then Marcus sent me an SOS text requesting my help. The owner was scheduled to be here to assist him but had to bail at the last minute due to a family emergency. So, here I am.
For a Thursday, it’s been pretty slow at The Pour Over. Thursdays are usually our busiest days, mostly full of students trying to get in some last-minute studying for tests on Friday. But today is the day of a special sporting event. I’ve never lived someplace where football is lauded this much as the one thing that brings the town together. Hell, even Marcus considered going, but only for a minute, and he loathes sports.
“We’re closing up early tonight for the big game, remember?” he calls out to me from the back room. “I never get used to hearing myself say that.”
His laugh has me reacting with one of my own.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve already cleaned all the empty tables and taken out the trash from behind the counter and by the entrance.”
He emerges from the back. “I realize this will sound very un-Marcus like, but I think this game is exactly what this town needs right now. To come together and catch their breath after what’s happened,” he says somberly before ducking away again.
I guess it’s a nice distraction, but I bet Lori’s family and loved ones won’t get the same from the game as the rest of the town. I, for one, am firmly in the camp of still a little paranoid about who did it.
I remove the pastry items from the display cabinet and begin making a box full of food donations for the local homeless shelter. It’s one of the owner’s big contributions to the community. He loves giving back.
The entrance door chimes, pulling my attention. It’s Deputy Owens.
“Afternoon, deputy. How may I help you?” I ask with a smile.
He removes his hat and sunglasses. “Hey, Donovan. I didn’t realize you worked here,” he says, tucking his aviator glasses into the V-shaped opening at the top of his buttoned-up shirt.
“Yeah, been working here since the summer. Mainly on the weekends, but I pick up shifts here and there during the week after school too,” I reply.
“Guess that makes sense why I’ve never seen you here. You’re at school when I make my coffee runs for the department.”
“Yeah. Hey, I know it’s probably a long shot, me asking this, but have there been any developments with Lori’s case?”
He shakes his head. “They’re ruling things out little by little, but there’s just not much evidence. I’d love to be able to give you more details, but I’m kind of out of the loop now myself.”
“No, I get that. I appreciate whatever you can tell me,” I reply, and then notice two more customers line up behind him. “So, can I get you anything?”
He takes a peek over his shoulder and realizes he’s holding up the line. “Uh, is Marcus here?”
“Yeah, he’s in the back. Want me to get him for you?”
“No, that’s okay. If you could just tell him to call me after you close up,” he replies.
I.
Am.
Gagged.
Why does Deputy Owens want Marcus to call him? Why does Marcus have his phone number?
The deputy places his hat back on his head and tips it toward me. “Have a good night at the game.”
“Thanks. I’ll have as good a night as I can while watching football,” I reply with a chuckle.
He makes his exit and I tend to the next two customers. I poke my head into the back area and see Marcus returning from taking out the trash.
A grin sprouts on my face. “Uh, question, Marcus.”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
He’s focused on replacing the trash bags in the empty bins and misses the look on my face. I lean up against the frame of the door and glance back to the entrance to make sure there are no customers waiting. There aren’t. My eyes return to Marcus.
“Inquiring minds would love to know why Deputy Owens is looking for you.”
He stiffens and then a smile tugs at his mouth. “Oh, is he here?” he asks, tossing a coy look my way.
“He was, but he left. He said for you to call him when you’re done here.”
He looks as though he’s trying not to fully express his happiness. “Oh, okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
He isn’t fooling me with this “playing it cool” routine.
“So, are you two…?”
“Maybe,” he replies with a dismissive wave. “We’ve got work to do, sir.”
“How did this happen?” I ask, elated by the news. I think I’m receiving some of his glee through osmosis.
“Work first, then gossip,” he says sternly, but his lips continue to struggle to keep the smile from creeping across them.
“Truth while we work,” I counteroffer, placing my hands on my hips.
He rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, prompting a pleased grin to light up my face. “He comes in here almost every day to get coffee. We’ve talked here and there, but it wasn’t until we bumped into each other at Mae’s that I knew he was bi. We just kind of hit it off, you know? It’s no big deal, really.”
I’m not convinced of that. His body language is telling a completely different story.
He likes him. I can’t blame him. Deputy Owens is a catch for real.
“That’s awesome, Marcus.”
“Uh-uh. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make more out of this than there is.”
“You two are so cute together though,” I say in a playful tone.
“Get out,” he demands with a finger point. I open my mouth on another reply a
nd he repeats, “Get out.”
I grin at him. My eyes trail out to look at the café. It’s a ghost town. It appears the last customer has left. The clock on the wall shows it’s two minutes past closing, so I move over to the door and lock it before flipping the flimsy metal sign to closed. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from Drea.
I can’t find the diary anywhere. Did I give it to you? I could have sworn I had it with me at lunch.
I think back to lunch and try to remember if I saw her with the diary, but come away with nothing.
Nope, I don’t have it. Could you have put it in your locker or left it somewhere?
The dots show up at the bottom of the message chain as she types her reply. Then it comes through.
I’ve checked everywhere. I still need to go home before the game. Let me know if you remember anything. And let me know when you get there with Connor. Even without the diary, I still have questions for him.
I type out, Sounds good, and then hit send before resuming packing up the box of food donations for the shelter. Connor’s truck appears in my peripherals as it pulls up in front of the café and parks.
I thought we were meeting at my house.
He rounds his truck and makes his way to the entrance. I meet him there, click the lock, and crack the door open so we don’t have to talk through the glass. The first thing I notice are his eyes. They’re shifty and apprehensive. Standoffish, even. A direct contrast to the slight smile on his face. When he looks at me, I see the worry just below the surface of his poor attempt at forced happiness he’s displaying on his lips.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask.
His smile fades as his hands dive into his pockets and hang out there. His shoulders tilt forward and his gaze shifts down to the sign on the door. “I forgot you guys were closing early today. Is it too late for me to come in?”
“Sorry. Marcus will be counting the money from the till soon. No one’s allowed in when that’s happening. Is something wrong? I thought we were meeting at my house.”
A heavy breath leaves his lips. “I went to your house first, but you weren’t there. One of your aunts said you were at work. I know I could’ve just texted you, but I wanted to do this in person, especially after the last time when I practically stood you up.”
