by Kai Juniper
"Since we started at Twisted Pine freshman year." She softly smiles. "I spilled my latte on my sweater on the very first day. I was so upset. I wanted to look perfect for this guy I liked. Kristen saw how upset I was and gave me her sweater. We were best friends that year."
"And then what?"
She shrugs. "We grew apart. We were still friends but once we had boyfriends we didn't do as much together."
A breeze blows and she shivers, hugging her arms to her chest. "I think it's getting colder."
"Alyssa, why are you here? I mean here, talking to me? Everyone else is giving me the silent treatment."
She pauses, still gazing at the field. "I liked what you said in there."
"You mean at lunch?"
"You're the first person who's ever stood up to him. And what you said is true. Braden does whatever he wants and we all just go along with it. People did the same thing to Kristen but they'd talk about her behind her back, saying she was a bitch and how much they hated her. They don't say those things about Braden. It's like you said, they treat him like a god. No matter what he does, everyone still loves him."
"Why? Because of football?"
"That, and because people are scared of him."
"Scared of what? That he'll turn people against them like he did to me?"
"That's part of it."
"What else are they scared of?"
She turns to me. "You know what he's like. You live with him."
"You mean when he gets mad?"
She nods. "He loses control. And it happens fast. One minute he's fine and the next he's completely lost it."
"Yeah," I say, thinking of the gun incident last night. "I've noticed that."
She looks down. "Don't tell anyone this but..."
"What? What is it?"
She hesitates. "I think he did it."
"Did what?"
Her eyes lift to mine. "Don't make me say it."
"You think he killed Kristen?"
"Kristen?" She shakes her head. "No."
"Andrea," I say.
She nods. "I'm not saying he did it on purpose. But I don't know, maybe he did."
"Why do you think he did it?"
She chews on her lip, turning back to the field and slipping her hand out of the sweater to smooth her long blond hair.
"Alyssa, why do you think he did it?"
"Do you think he did?"
"Yeah, but I can't say for sure."
"I can't either. I just have this feeling he did."
"Were you there that night?"
"I was, but I left around eleven. They think she died later."
"Is it true they were fighting?"
She nods. "It was so bad. They were screaming and Braden was throwing things at her. None of us knew what to do. Everyone's too afraid of Braden to confront him so we all just tried to ignore it."
"And Trystan didn't do anything?"
"Trystan worships his brother. He wouldn't try to stop him. I'm sure he assumed Andrea did something to provoke him. Trystan always sticks up for Braden."
I haven't even seen Trystan today. If I did, he'd probably ignore me like everyone else. He's loyal to Braden. He wouldn't take my side.
Alyssa gets up. "I'm freezing. I need to go inside."
I follow her down the bleachers. "Are you sticking around for the assembly?"
"I have to. Kristen would want me there."
"Hey, um, do you know if Kristen was dating anyone? Like recently?"
"Not that I know of. I knew she was still hanging out with Jackson." She glances at me. "I mean, as a friend."
"You heard I'm with Jackson?"
"News travels fast around here. I think everyone knew by midnight on Friday, maybe even sooner."
"And you're still talking to me?"
"I never had anything against Jackson," she says as we walk on the trail back to school.
"But you said all those bad things about him when we met."
"Only because I had to. He left here to go to Legion, which makes him the enemy. I actually liked him when he was here. I thought he was hot. I wanted to date him."
"But you never did?"
"I didn't have a chance to. He was always dating someone else. A guy that hot doesn't stay single for long."
"You don't think he..." I decide not to finish that thought.
"Killed Kristen?" She walks faster, rubbing her arms to keep warm. "No. Jackson doesn't have a temper like Braden. And I can't imagine him hurting anyone. One time he gave me a ride home and made us stop to pick up a dog that was in the street. Killers don't do stuff like that."
"Then who do you think did it?"
"I have no idea." She shivers as we go inside. "It's cold in here too."
"It's actually really hot. You might want to go home and rest. I think you're getting sick."
The class we skipped is getting out and people are heading to their lockers.
Peyton comes up to Alyssa. "Where'd you go? You missed class."
"I wasn't feeling well," she says. "I took a nap in the nurse's office."
Peyton eyes me, then looks back at Alyssa, taking her arm and turning her away from me. "C'mon. I have an entire pharmacy in my locker. Something in there will make you feel better."
What's the deal with Peyton? This morning she acted like we're best friends, then she turned on me at lunch and now she's doing it again.
At three, everyone files into the auditorium for the assembly. I go to the very back and sit by the door so I can exit right away when it's over.
"Attention," Principal Edwards says, tapping on the microphone. "Everyone quiet down. We're going to begin."
He's standing at the podium with Ms. Adams next to him in a chair. It's just like Jackson described. First the principal speaks, then the counselor.
"I am very saddened to have to gather you all today for the tragedy that happened last weekend," Principal Edwards says. "This is the third, and hopefully last, time that we've had to say goodbye to one of our own. This time is particularly difficult for me because Kristen was my daughter. I never called her my stepdaughter because I treated her as though she were my own." He wipes his eyes. "Her mother and I are devastated by her passing and struggling to get through every moment without her. She was our light. A sweet, innocent girl who wanted the best for both herself and those around her. She was a source of encouragement to many of you, which is why she will be so greatly missed by everyone who knew her."
I know you're only supposed to say good things about people after they die but this is a bit much. Sweet and innocent? That's a stretch. And the part about him seeing her as his own? It makes what I saw in the classroom that day even creepier.
He continues. "Daphne and I are determined to seek justice for our sweet baby girl. Her killer will not go free. He took her life, and now we will take his, as he serves the rest of his days in prison."
Ms. Adams rises up and says something in his ear.
He nods. "I may have gone a bit off topic there. This isn't about the man who did this. It's about Kristen. A celebration of her life. On that note, I'd like to offer the podium to anyone who would like to share a memory of Kristen or say a few words about her."
He looks out at the crowd. Nobody gets up or raises their hand.
"No need to be shy." He smiles but his tone is laced with anger that nobody is raising their hand. "Anyone?"
The auditorium remains quiet.
"I'll do it," someone calls out. I see Peyton rise from her seat in the middle row.
"Excellent. Thank you, Ms. Sanders."
He steps aside as she makes her way to the podium.
She clears her throat. "Kristen was one of my closest friends." She pauses and looks down, sniffling. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Principal Edwards says, putting his arm around her. "Take your time."
She nods as he steps away.
"I've know Kristen forever. We have so many memories it's hard to know which one to tell." She sniffles and Ms
. Adams hands her a box of tissues. She takes one and dabs her eyes. "One time Kristen and I dressed up as mermaids for Halloween." She laughs a little. "We didn't put the costumes on right. We thought the fin part was supposed to cover our shoes not just our ankles. We tried to walk and we both fell, right in front of a boy we liked." She smiles. "We always seemed to like the same boys. But neither one of us got Henry, the boy who saw us fall." She looks down, then back up at the crowd. "I just want to say that I'm really going to miss her. I already do. I keep expecting to see her in the halls but then she's not there." She turns away, crying.
Ms. Adams stands up and comforts her, then takes the podium as Principal Edwards helps Peyton off the stage.
"What Peyton is describing is common," Ms. Adams says. "When someone we love passes it's difficult to accept. You may still expect to see them, even though you know they've passed. You may doubt that they're actually gone, thinking it was just a bad dream. Grief is complicated and different for everyone."
She goes into a long speech about grief, finally ending just before four.
Principal Edwards returns to the podium. "Does anyone have questions for Ms. Adams?"
Nobody responds.
"If you do, or if you need someone to talk to about this, Ms. Adams will be available after school every day this week. You can also talk to her during class. Just tell your instructor before class begins." He checks his watch. "I see it's now four. You're excused for the day. Ms. Adams will be in her office if you'd like to speak with her."
I race out of the auditorium and wait outside for Trystan. As usual, he's one of the last people to leave.
"I'm not taking you," he says, walking past me.
"Like hell you're not," I say, catching up to him. "I'm not putting up with this silent treatment bullshit from you too. It's bad enough the whole school isn't talking to me."
"I'm talking to you." He stops at his car. "I'm just not taking you home."
I try my door. It's locked.
He gets in the car and I bang on the window. "Trystan, open the damn door!" He starts up the car. "Trystan, I swear to God, if you don't open this door I'll—"
He rolls down the window, laughing. "You'll what?"
"Forget it. Just open the door."
"You're not going home with me. Dad's picking you up."
"Brock is? Why?"
"He's taking you to counseling. The lady's in San Diego. I'm not driving you there. I'm going to the gym."
"Counseling is tonight? I thought it was tomorrow."
"Dad said it's tonight."
"Shit. Think I can get out of it?"
"No. Dad will make you go at least three times before he'll even consider letting you stop. That's what he did to Braden and me, and you're even more messed up than us."
"I'm not messed up!"
He laughs as he backs out of the space. "Have fun!"
As he drives away, I see Brock's car pulling up to the school entrance. I walk back there and get in the car.
"I thought counseling was tomorrow."
"She had a conflict. She had to switch it to tonight."
"Can we cancel? I'm not in the mood for this."
"That's perfect." Brock smiles. "She specializes in moody teenagers."
"Yeah, funny." I roll my eyes. "Seriously, though, I don't want to do this. I need to go home. Jackson is coming over."
"Jackson is with his father, talking to an investigator about the case. Roman mentioned it earlier when I ran into him while taking a walk."
Brock doesn't take walks. He must've walked down there, hoping to run into Roman. Does he not understand Roman is busy trying to save his son from prison? Casting his next movie is the last thing on his mind.
"Jackson's being questioned again?" I ask. "He already told them everything."
"The investigator isn't working for the police. This is a private investigator. A man who consulted on one of Roman's movies. They've hired him to see if he can find out who killed Kristen."
Why didn't Jackson tell me that? I text him to make sure Brock is telling me the truth.
Brock said you're meeting with an investigator.
My dad set it up, he texts back. I'll stop over when we're done. Probably won't be for a few hours.
Brock's taking me to counseling. He won't let me get out of it.
You can tell me about it later. Love you.
Love you too.
"Rumor," Brock says as I put my phone down. "I know you have strong feelings for Jackson but he may not be the boy for you."
"Do I comment on who YOU date? Because if anyone's making bad choices here, it's—"
"Enough," he says. "Tell me about school."
"Well, your son told everyone not to talk to me, so that was pleasant."
"Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
"Braden?"
"Who else? Trystan can be a jerk but he's nothing compared to Braden."
Brock gets quiet, then says, "About what you said this morning, have you told anyone else?"
"That you're my dad?"
"Yes," he says with a sigh. "Did you tell anyone?"
"Not yet," I say, not wanting him to know I told Jackson. "Why? Is it a secret?"
"Yes, and I'd like it to remain that way."
"Why is it a secret?"
"It would hurt the boys to know. I don't want them knowing I was unfaithful to their mother."
"My mom was the only one?"
"Rumor!" he says, sounding offended.
"What? Since I've been here you've had multiple women. You cheated on Morgan."
"She was my girlfriend, not my wife. And I didn't have children with her."
"I'll make you a deal. I'll keep your secret if you answer all my questions. And I want real answers, not made up ones. I want the truth."
"What questions do you have?"
"I want to know everything. When you met her. How long it was going on. Why you got involved with her and why she never told me. Why you never came to see me. Why you—"
"Okay, I get the point. You have questions. I'll try to answer them the best I can but you need to understand it was a long time ago. I may not remember everything."
"But you remember her, right? My mom?"
He smiles to himself. "I could never forget her. Your mother was unlike anyone I'd ever met."
The way he's smiling like that, and has that faraway look in his eyes, it's almost like he had feelings for her. Like this wasn't just some casual fling.
"Tell me," I say. "Tell me everything."
"Not now. We're almost there."
"When will you tell me?"
"Soon, but for now I need you to promise me you'll keep this between us."
"Okay, but I'm not waiting forever. I want to know what happened."
"This is her office," he says, pulling up to a white building that's curved on the sides. "Go inside and give her assistant your name."
"You're not coming in?"
"I have some errands to run. I'll be back in an hour to pick you up."
I open my door, then turn back to him. "Did you ever want to see me? When I was growing up?"
He lets out a breath. "Go. I'll be back in an hour."
He didn't answer me, which means he didn't want me. I already knew that but it hurts to have him confirm it.
I wish I'd never found out he's my dad. I'd rather have an alcoholic druggie dad than one who never wanted me.
Chapter Thirteen
"Rumor Halliway," I say to the receptionist. "Or Bennet. I don't know which name he used."
The woman looks over her appointment book. "Halliway." She smiles as she stands up. "Right this way."
I follow her down the hall to an office where a woman in a navy suit is waiting. She's older, maybe Brock's age, with short black hair, black glasses, and bright red lipstick. I already don't like her. The suit is too corporate and the red lipstick looks like blood against her pale skin. She doesn't even smile when she sees me.
> "Rumor." She shakes my hand. "Clarice Robbins. Thank you for switching your appointment to today. I have a conflict tomorrow."
"I didn't have a choice," I mutter, sitting on the high-backed black chair across from her desk. The top of the chair curves up to a point. It reminds me of the chairs in the haunted house Axl and I used to go to every Halloween.
Clarice sits down at her desk, a big wooden desk that matches the bookcases that line the wall behind her. Neither her desk nor the bookcases have a single photo on them. She either doesn't have family or doesn't want anyone to see them. Looking around the room, I see three other chairs like the one I'm sitting in, along with a small coffee table. There's nothing on the walls, which are painted white with white trim. It's a very sterile room. It makes me wish I was back in Ms. Adams office. At least it had some warmth to it with all the colors and the fluffy rug and the bean bag chair. Or maybe the warmth came from Ms. Adams. She was odd but at least she smiled, and she was nice once I got to know her.
Clarice is professional but cold as ice. And she still hasn't smiled.
"Let's get started." She holds a pen over her black leather-bound notebook. "Tell me about your mother."
"That's it? We're just starting? Don't you want to ask me some questions first?"
"I just asked you a question."
"I mean questions about me. My interests. Hobbies. I don't know, it just seems a little fast to go straight to my mom."
"We're not here to talk about your hobbies and interests. I don't waste my client's money asking about weekend plans or what you had for dinner. I get right to the issues, and from my conversation with Brock, it seems you're struggling to move on from your mother's death."
"It's only been a few months. I think it's a little soon to just move on."
"Tell me about your grief. What stage are you in?" She slides a sheet of paper across her desk, setting it in front of me. It lists the five stages of grief. She wants me to pick one? Isn't she supposed to be telling ME what stage I'm in?
"I don't need to look at it." I slide it back to her. "I had a lecture on this at school today. A girl in my class was killed and they had an assembly."
She writes something in her book. "You don't seem very upset about that. The death of a classmate? That's typically very traumatic for someone your age."