by Kai Juniper
"No. Nobody does. You're too smart to do something that stupid."
"People are saying that? People here at school?"
"Yeah. I thought you knew."
"What else are they saying?"
"They think you should break up with Jackson. A lot of people here think he did it."
"He didn't."
"I hope not. I always liked Jackson." She looks at her phone. "Bell's about to ring. I need to go."
"Hey, have Peyton go to the funeral with you."
"I don't want to sit with her. She laughs at funerals."
"Laughs?" I shut my locker.
"I know, it's weird. Whenever she's at church or a funeral she can't stop laughing. I think it's some kind of disorder. Anyway, see ya at lunch."
When class starts, Mr. Piedmont begins with an announcement. "Principal Edwards wants everyone to know the annual Twisted Pine Open House for family and friends has been postponed to a later date due to Kristen's passing. A new date hasn't been decided on but will likely be later this fall. A note has already been sent to your parents."
A girl raises her hand. "What about the football game Friday? Are we still having it?"
"Yes," Mr. Piedmont says. "The football game will go on as usual. Principal Edwards thinks it will be a good break from the sadness we've all felt this week. I'm sure Braden will be giving us another win, which is sure to lift our spirits at least somewhat."
Even the teachers worship Braden. It's so disgusting. No wonder his ego is so huge.
At lunch I return to the football table and it's like nothing ever happened. Braden gives me the death stare when he sits down but he doesn't tell me to leave. I smile at that. It's a small victory, but big if you consider I'm the only person who has stood up to Braden and won.
"What time are you going to the game Friday?" Dante asks, looking at me across the table.
"I'm not sure if I'm going. I haven't decided."
The table goes silent. The guys look over at Braden.
"She's kidding," he says. "She wouldn't miss seeing me play. Isn't that right, Rumor?"
I meet his stare. "I said I haven't decided if I'm going."
"Shit," Miles mutters, looking down at his food. The other guys do the same.
"What was that?" Braden says to me.
"I said I might not go. I have things to do."
He bolts up, slamming his fists on the table. "You're going to the fucking game!"
The other guys look at him, shocked at his outburst. I don't know why they're surprised. They've known him longer than I have. They should know he reacts like this when he's angry.
Kade leans over to him. "Braden, just—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Braden flips his tray over, spilling food everywhere. Everyone in the dining hall watches in silence as Braden storms out.
When he's gone, Wyatt looks at me. "You probably shouldn't have said that."
"Saying I haven't decided if I'm going to the game shouldn't make him react like that. It's not normal."
"She's right," Dante says. "Braden's fucking losing it."
"You would too if the cops kept showing up at your door saying you killed someone," Miles says.
"Where do you think he went?" Wyatt asks.
"The gym," Kade says. "Or the field. Somewhere where he can blow off some steam."
The room gets loud again as people return to their conversations. Alyssa walks by our table, sticking her boobs out and flipping her hair before stopping next to Peyton. She turns and bends over as she whispers something in Peyton's ear. Her ass is on display for Kade and he notices, his eyes glued to it.
Miles laughs. "Just tell her you're sorry and end this."
Kade looks at him. "No fucking way. She'll make me go to that damn funeral. I'm sick of funerals. I'm not doing another one."
"She's gonna hate you even more if she has to go with Peyton," Wyatt says. "The laughing hyena."
Miles spits out his food, laughing. "Shit, I forgot about that."
"She laughs at funerals," Dante says to me. "Said it's some kind of medical condition. She does it at church too."
Kade sighs. "If she has to go with Peyton, this breakup's gonna last for weeks." He gets out his phone and sends a text.
Alyssa hears the text notification and checks her phone. She turns back and smiles, just enough to let Kade know he's on the right track. As she turns back to Peyton, he sends her another text. She rises back to standing as she reads it.
Turning back to Kade, she says, "You will? You're not going to change your mind?"
"No, baby. Of course I'll go. Anything for you. I love you."
She runs over and grabs his face and kisses him. "I love you too."
"Let's get out of here."
They leave, hand-in-hand, and go out to the parking lot. They'll probably have sex in his car.
Miles throws a twenty at Dante. "I'm running out of money."
Dante laughs. "Told you it'd be today."
When lunch is over, I go to English and ask the sub what happened to Ms. Pruitt. I used to hate her but now I kind of like her. She's strict and her tests are hard but she seems to genuinely care about her students. I think she's made me her project this semester. She's determined to make me do well in her class. Like Jackson, she pushes me to do better than I think I can.
"Ms. Pruitt hasn't been feeling well," the sub tells me.
"Why? What happened?"
"I really don't know. They don't tell me those things."
"But she'll be back on Monday?"
"I'm not sure. Principal Edwards said Ms. Pruitt has asked for a leave of absence. I don't know if it's been approved."
"Leave of absence? For how long?"
"Again, I'm not told these things. I need you to take your seat. Class will be starting soon."
At the end of the day I go out to the parking lot, not sure if Brock's picking me up or if I'm going home with Trystan. I have counseling today so I'm assuming Brock will show up.
As I'm waiting at the school entrance, Trystan's car pulls up, the window rolled down. "Get in."
"You're taking me to counseling?"
"I'm taking you home. Dad will take you to counseling."
I get in the car. "I'm surprised you didn't leave without me."
"I'm being nice today." He speeds off. "Don't get used to it."
Chapter Eighteen
"I don't feel like going to counseling," I say, bracing myself as he takes a turn way too fast. "Did you like that lady? The counselor?"
"Hated her. So did Braden. We just sat there and didn't say anything. Eventually she gave up on us."
"Maybe I should try that. I was actually starting to like Ms. Adams. I'd rather go back to her instead of Ms. Robbins."
"Dad won't go for that. I told you he slept with her, right?"
"Ms. Robbins?"
"Ms. Adams. Ms. Robbins isn't his type. She's too old."
"She's Brock's age."
"Yeah. Too old. He likes them young."
"Isn't your mom his age?"
"Yeah, but that's different. When he was young he dated women his own age. Now he only wants younger women."
"I should still be able to see Ms. Adams. It shouldn't matter if he slept with her."
"It's not just about that. He doesn't want shit about our family being told to someone at school."
"Maybe I could get out of counseling. They made me go because I punched Kristen but she's gone now so maybe I could get out of it."
"Principal Edwards isn't letting you out of counseling. He thinks you killed her. To him, you're seriously messed up."
"You want to talk about messed up? You should've seen Braden at lunch."
"I did. What the hell happened?"
"The guys asked if I was going to Friday's game. I said I wasn't sure and Braden blew up. Tossed his tray and left."
"Did you tell him it's because you want to go out with Jackson?"
"No. I didn't even mention Jackson."
Tryst
an shakes his head. "I don't know what's going on with him. He's acting fucking crazy."
"Have you talked to him? Asked him what's wrong?"
"Hell, no. I don't trust he won't pull a gun on me again. I still can't believe he did that. I've never seen him act that way."
"What way?"
"Going from normal to crazy within seconds. I never thought he did anything to Andrea, and still don't, but I could see him getting angry enough to do it."
"To kill her?"
"Maybe. I don't want to think that way about him but that night he took out the gun, I started to wonder what he's capable of. If he could point a gun at his own brother, what would he do to some girl he was dating? I don't want to talk about this anymore."
Trystan turns up his music and we don't talk the rest of the way home. When we get there, I see a cop car pulling up behind us.
"Looks like you're finally going to get a ticket," I say.
Trystan sees the cop car in his rear-view mirror. "What the hell? I wasn't even speeding."
We wait for the officer to come up to Trystan's window but instead he walks right past us, another officer right behind him.
"Where are they going?" Trystan asks.
"To the house. Let's go."
We get out of the car and get to the front door just as Braden opens it. I'm surprised he's home. I thought he'd be at practice.
"What do you want?" Braden says to the officers as Trystan and I go inside. We stand behind Braden to see what this is about.
"We'd like to come inside," one of the officers says. He's much taller than the other one and seems to be the spokesperson, standing in front of the other guy.
Brock appears next to Braden. "What's going on here?" he asks the officer.
"Sorry for the short notice but we'd like to look through Braden's room."
"Do you have a search warrant?" Brock asks.
"No, but we thought we'd ask before going through the process to get one."
"You need to leave," Brock says. "You're not coming in this house without a search warrant."
The officer nods. "We'll be back."
He turns to leave.
"Wait," Braden says as the officer turns back around. "Go ahead and do it."
"Braden!" Brock grabs his arm. "They're not stepping foot in this house without a search warrant!"
"They don't need one." Braden folds his arms over his chest. "I have nothing to hide. Go ahead and look."
Brock yanks on Braden's arm. "Braden, this is MY house and if I—"
"Just let them look," Braden says, yanking his arm from Brock. "They're not going to find anything."
Brock takes a deep breath through his nose and lets it out. "Fine. His room is upstairs. Last one on your left."
Trystan and I step back as the officers come in the house. They go up the stairs to Braden's room.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Brock says to Braden.
"I'm sick of them treating me like a fucking criminal," Braden says. "I want to prove they're wrong and rub their fucking faces in it."
The four of us wait downstairs in the living room, Braden sprawled on the couch looking through his phone while Brock and Trystan anxiously pace the floor. I'm at the window, looking out at the waves. It's cloudy today, like it might storm, and the waves are choppy.
Ten minutes later the officers come downstairs, serious looks on their faces.
Brock walks over to them. "I'll show you to the door."
"I'm afraid we're not quite ready to leave," the tall officer says.
"And why is that?" Brock asks, anger in his voice.
"We found something."
"What'd you find?" Braden asks in a cocky tone. "Jock straps with my DNA?" He laughs. "Go ahead and take one. I have more."
"This isn't a joke." The tall officer motions to the other officer. The guy holds up a clear bag. I'm too far away to tell what's in it.
"What the fuck is that?" Braden asks, getting up from the couch. He goes over to look at it.
"It's a bracelet," the officer says. "It was worn by the victim the night of the party. Witnesses saw her wearing it but we didn't find it on her body." He takes the bag from the other officer and points to it. "It has traces of blood on it."
"Not mine," Braden says. He points to the bracelet. "That was never in my room. You fucking planted it there!"
The shorter officer goes up to Braden with handcuffs. "Braden Halliway, you are under arrest for the murder of Andrea—"
"What the fuck!" Braden yells, fighting the officer as he tries to cuff him.
"Officer, this doesn't prove anything," Brock says to the tall guy as the other officer continues to read Braden his rights. "A bracelet doesn't mean he killed her."
"He was the last to see her," the officer says. "They'd been fighting. The bracelet's chain is broken and there are traces of blood on it."
"So she broke her fucking bracelet and left it in my room!" Braden yells, struggling to get out of the handcuffs. "You can't arrest me because of some fucking bracelet!"
The officers go on each side of Braden, taking his arms and walking him to the door.
"Braden, go with them," Brock says. "I'll talk to the lawyer and we'll straighten this out."
"This is bullshit!" he yells as they take him outside. "We're suing your asses!"
When they're gone, Brock comes up to Trystan and me. "Not a word to ANYONE about this!"
"It's not a secret," I say. "It'll be on the news."
"You will not speak of it," he says, his eyes on me. "If anyone asks, you say you don't know. Understood?"
"Does this mean I don't have to go to counseling?"
"Yes," Brock says, rubbing his face. "Text Ms. Robbins and tell her we can't make it. I need to call up the lawyer and get down to the police station."
He races off, leaving Trystan and me in the entry. Trystan's standing there stunned, like he can't believe what he just saw.
"You okay?" I ask him.
He stares straight ahead. "What if he did it?"
"Guess they'll find out. If that blood is his, they might have their proof."
"It's not enough. They can't convict him on that."
"Are you sure no one saw anything that night? The night of the party?"
"Not when it happened. Everyone had either left or was passed out drunk."
"And her injuries were from the fall? They confirmed that?"
"Her neck was snapped. They think it happened when she fell but they said it's possible someone did it."
"Did she have other injuries?"
"She was scraped up from falling on the rocks." He pauses. "Her wrist was scraped. Right where she wore that bracelet."
"You think he might've—"
"I don't know," he says, looking away.
"What time did Braden get home that night from the party?"
"I wasn't here when he got home. I stayed at the party."
"Who was here? Just Brock?"
"I think so."
"You don't know? Who else would've been here? Did Brock have a woman over?"
"No, but your dad was here that day. I don't know what time he left."
"My dad was here? At the house?"
"He came to get money. Couldn't pay his rent."
"How long was he here?"
"Maybe a few hours? I saw him after school and when I got home the next morning, he was gone."
"Did you ask Brock what time my dad left?"
"No. Why does it matter? He was here, not at the party."
I glance down at Brock's office. "Come to my room."
"Why?"
"I want to talk without your dad hearing us."
Trystan follows me to my room and I close the door.
"What if my dad knows what happened that night but is afraid to tell anyone? Or was sworn to secrecy?"
"How would your dad know what happened?"
"Maybe he overheard Braden telling Brock."
"It wouldn't matter. I already know what
happened. Braden got in a fight with her, he left, and she fell off the railing."
"You're sure Braden was home when Andrea died?"
"Yeah. Dad saw him come in the door. He talked to him. Asked him why I stayed behind."
"Why DID you stay behind?"
He smiles. "I was hoping to get this girl. We were making out but her friend showed up and they left. After that I got wasted and passed out."
"So Brock is the only alibi?"
"Unless Uncle Devon was still here."
"What if your dad lied?" I ask. "What if he changed the timeline of when Braden got home to protect him?"
"He wouldn't do that."
"Really?" I say, raising my brows. "For Braden?
He sighs. "Okay, maybe, but I can't prove it."
"What if MY dad could?" I step closer to Trystan and lower my voice. "We need to find my dad. He might be the only one who knows what really happened that night."
Trystan walks around me, going to the couch on the other side of the room. He sits down, leaning over and staring at the floor.
"When would we go?" he asks.
My heart races. He's actually going to do this? He's going to take me to find Devon? I can't believe he's agreeing to this.
If we find Devon, I might finally get answers. Answers about Brock. My mom. What happened to Andrea.
"Sunday," I say. "We'll leave early. We'll sneak out."
"My dad will freak when he finds out. He'll have the cops looking for us."
"You're afraid to sneak out?" I say, smiling. "You've never done it, have you?"
"I didn't have to. He's never here."
"And now that he is, you're afraid to."
"I'm not afraid," he says, getting up.
"Then prove it. We'll leave at five. Your dad's not even up until eight. It's only two hours. We'll go there, look for my dad, and if we can't find him, we'll leave. We could be home by noon."
"Wait—this is stupid. We don't even know if he's there, and if he is, we don't know where to find him."
"I know it's a long shot but we have to try. We know my dad likes music stores and coffee shops so we'll try those first."
"We should try homeless shelters first. I doubt he has a place to live. Or we could try the beach. He used to sleep on the beach."
"In LA?"
"No, when he'd go places. He didn't have money for a hotel so he'd hang out on the beach all night. Beg for money. Get drunk."