by Kai Juniper
"I haven't been here forever," she says, looking around. She walks to the window. "Such an awesome view. I wish my family lived on the beach. Well, not this one after what happened." She whips back to face me. "Sorry. I shouldn't bring that up."
"It's okay. Everyone does. I'm used to it."
She walks back to me. "I'm starving. You ready to eat?"
"Yeah, I'll grab some plates."
She shivers. "I don't know why but I'm really cold. Do you have a sweater I could borrow?"
"Sure. I'll be right back." I go to my room and come back with a hoodie. "Does this work?"
"Perfect." She takes it from me. "Thanks!"
We go to the table to eat our pizza.
"When's the last time you were here?" I ask.
"A couple years ago. Braden and I were on the debate team and we met here to practice."
"Braden was on the debate team?"
"Yeah, but he wasn't very good. I did okay, but it took too much time so I quit. So where are you going to college?"
"I'm not going. I'll just find a job."
"Really?" she asks, looking like she's disgusted by the idea.
"I just don't think college is for me. I don't really like school."
"Yeah, but what are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure. I'll figure it out. My mom was an artist and she did okay."
As we continue to talk I realize Trystan was right. Alyssa isn't someone I'd choose to hang out with. We have nothing in common and all she wants to talk about is school. I'm relieved when it's time to leave for the game so I don't have to keep listening to her talk about the colleges she's considering.
The stadium is packed when we get there. The other team knows Braden isn't playing so they probably think it's worth showing up since there's a chance they'll win. The guys at lunch wouldn't even talk about the game. Normally they'd brag about how they're going to win but today they kept quiet.
"Get the ball, you shithead!" a guy behind me yells. It's almost the end of the fourth quarter and the score is 35 to seven. Twisted Pine is losing.
"This is painful," Alyssa says.
"I know." I cover my ears. "That guy is so freaking loud."
"I meant the game," she says. "I can't remember them ever playing this bad."
"It's because Braden convinced them they can't win without him."
"Obviously they can't," the guy next to me says. "Without Braden, we're fucked." The guy throws his hands up. "Another three points for the other team. And now it's over. Fuck!"
People start filing out of the stadium.
"Sorry I can't take you home," Alyssa says. "You sure you can get a ride?"
"Yeah, I'll find someone."
"Do you want to meet up later at one of the parties?"
"No. I'm tired. I just want to go home."
"Okay, well, maybe we could do something next week."
"Yeah, maybe."
She runs down the bleachers to talk to the other cheerleaders. She doesn't really think we'd hang out again, does she? We have nothing in common other than going to school here.
Looking around, I see that most people have left or are on their way out of the stadium. I didn't even get a chance to ask for a ride. Shit.
I call up Jackson. I know he doesn't want to come here but I'm desperate.
"Hey, are you home?" I say when he answers.
"Yeah, are you still at the game?"
"Yeah, it's over and I need a ride home. Could you maybe pick me up?"
"Sure. Be there in a few minutes."
He didn't even hesitate. He told me he'd never again come to Twisted Pine. He said he hated it so much that just driving up the road that leads to it makes him feel sick. And yet he'll do it for me. I love him so much.
When he arrives, the parking lot is almost empty.
"Thanks," I say, hopping in his Range Rover.
He stares at the brick building. "Lot of bad memories here."
"I know. I'm sorry I made you come here but I didn't know who else to call."
Three hard taps hit the window, startling us both in the dimly lit parking lot. I look over and see Principal Edwards leaning down next to Jackson, his eyes narrowed.
Jackson rolls down his window. "We're leaving," he says through gritted teeth.
"I don't want to see you here again," Principal Edwards says. "This is private property. We don't allow murderers here."
"I didn't fucking murder her," Jackson says, staring at Principal Edwards.
He stares back at him. "Justice will be served. Her death will not go unpunished."
Jackson whips the car around and speeds off. When I look back, I see Principal Edwards smirking as he watches us go.
"Jackson, I'm sorry, I thought he left. He wasn't there the last quarter."
"Forget it. I don't want to think about him." He reaches over and holds my hand. "I feel better already. I wish I could take you out but we should probably go home."
"I'm good with that. So what'd the lawyers say?"
"Not much. They're waiting to hear more about the evidence. The police still haven't given us details about the tie."
"Last night I was thinking about the case and I think it's time to tell the police what I know about Kristen and Principal Edwards."
"They'd never believe you," he says, speeding up as he goes down the winding road that takes us back home. "They'll think you made it up to take the attention off you and me."
"The police need to know. I don't care if they don't believe me."
“You can do what you want but if it were me, I'd keep quiet. If there was someone else that saw Kristen with Steven then the police would be more likely to believe you, but you alone saying that stuff will just seem suspicious. They knew you hated Kristen. The cops will think you're just trying to make her look bad. And they know you're pissed at Principal Edwards for accusing us. They'll think you just want to get back at him by accusing him of sleeping with this stepdaughter."
I sigh. "I really wish my phone would've saved those pictures I took of them. I would've had evidence."
"Talk to your lawyers and see what they say. I'm guessing they'll tell you to keep quiet."
We're on our street now and he slows down.
"You need to stop?" he asks as we approach Brock's house.
"No. Well, yeah, I do. I want to get some clothes."
"You don't need clothes tonight," he says with a sexy smile. "It's just you and me."
I smile back. "I'll need some for tomorrow."
He pulls into the driveway. "I'll wait here."
"Jackson, it's okay. You can come in. No one's home."
We get out of the car and go inside. I hear footsteps down the hall and the sound of a door closing.
"You said nobody was home," Jackson says.
"Maybe it's Brock."
"I'll wait outside."
"No, Jackson, just come to my room."
"Rumor?"
I turn around and see Maria coming toward us, holding a basket of laundry.
"Hi, Maria. I didn't know you were still here."
"I got a late start today." She eyes Jackson with a look of suspicion. "Are you going somewhere?" she asks me.
"I'm going to Jackson's place. I just stopped by to get some clothes."
Her eyes dart back to me. "You're spending the night?" she asks in a judgmental tone.
I don't answer. She's not my mom. She can't tell me what to do.
"How's Shayla?" Jackson asks, flashing that smile of his that tends to win people over.
It doesn't work on Maria. She thinks he's guilty. She's staring at him with disgust and anger, like he shouldn't be walking free after what he did.
"Don't talk about my daughter," she says. "Or TO her. Stay away from her."
"Maria, he didn't do it," I say.
"It's okay," Jackson says. "She can believe what she wants. Let's go get your clothes."
We head back to my room.
"Rumor, wait," Maria says.
"What is it?" I ask.
She comes up to me, holding her hand out. "I found these in a drawer in the kitchen. You might want to show Brock."
In her hand are some round blue pills with markings on them.
I pick one up. "What are these?"
"Some kind of drug," she says. "I don't know what they're for."
"You found them in the kitchen?"
"In Braden's drawer. The one where he keeps his protein bars. A new shipment of them was on the porch when I got here. I brought the box in and was refilling the drawer when I saw these pills. They were just loose on the bottom of the drawer."
I turn back to Jackson, holding up the pill. "Do you know what these are?"
He walks over to me and takes the pill. "Could be anything. We could try looking it up."
"Don't tell anyone I gave them to you," Maria says. "Especially Braden. You know how he gets when he's angry."
"I won't tell him,” I say. “I’m just wondering why he had them in that drawer. If he was trying to hide drugs, he'd hide them in his room, not the kitchen drawer."
"Unless he thought they'd search his room again," Jackson says.
"You're right." I take the pill from him. "I bet he moved them in case the cops come back to search his room."
"Here." Maria takes my hand and puts the rest of the pills in it. "I need to go, but please, don't tell anyone I found them."
"I won't."
She looks at Jackson.
"I won't either," he says.
She eyes him like she doesn't believe him, then turns and walks away.
"What do you think they are?" I ask, inspecting the markings on them.
"Something to help his performance on the field. He'd do anything to play better."
"Don't they drug test the players?"
"Private school. They don't have to. Even if they did, there's ways around it."
Jackson's already doing a search on his phone. "Let me see it."
I hand him a pill. He looks closer at the markings, then flips it over to see the other side.
"It's what I thought," he says, handing it back to me.
"What is it?"
"Adderall. A type of amphetamine."
"That's for ADHD. My friend in junior high had it. I didn't know Braden had it."
"He doesn't. He got the drugs illegally, probably from someone at Legion. They sell that stuff like candy there. It's easy to get."
"Why would he take it?"
"Makes him play better on the field. Sharpens his focus. Helps with endurance, stamina. It's become the drug of choice for athletes, especially football players, even at the pro level."
"And he just tosses it in a drawer? You'd think he'd be more careful about hiding it."
"You've seen how fucking crazy he gets if anyone touches his protein bars. That drawer is actually a good hiding place."
"Except when the maid refills the drawer." I look down at the pills in my hand. "What am I going to do with these?"
"Put them in a bag and do like Maria said. Give them to Brock. Let him deal with it."
"He won't do anything. Braden's got enough going on. Brock's not going to worry about this when Braden's been charged with murder."
"You still have to tell him. You don't want to be caught with it. At least leave it in his office. Don't keep it in your room."
Going to the kitchen, I find a plastic bag and toss the pills in it. I take it to Brock's office but the door is locked so I shove it under the door.
"Should I send him a text?" I ask Jackson. "Letting him know what it is?"
"It's better if you tell him in person. When's he coming home?"
"I don't know. He texted me during the game saying he was meeting his agent for dinner. I don't know if he meant here or in LA. Trystan said he was having Ana over tonight so maybe he'll be home later."
"Ana? The cook?"
"Yeah. She has a thing going with Brock."
"They're dating?"
"More like having sex. According to Trystan, she used to be a prostitute."
"No shit? I never would've guessed that. The one and only time I met her she seemed really quiet and shy. She wouldn't even look at me."
"I know. I couldn't believe it either. Hey, does Braden go to prostitutes?"
"Not sure. Why do you ask?"
"He always makes comments about not wanting a girlfriend and not wanting to take a girl on a date but there's no way he's going without sex. And when his friends complain about their girlfriends, he's always telling them to dump them and do what he does. I'm guessing he means going to hookers."
"It wouldn't surprise me if he did. He has the money to pay for it. And he can beat them around without getting in trouble for it."
"It pisses me off how much he gets away with. He does whatever he wants and doesn't get in trouble."
"Until now. His luck might be running out if they keep finding evidence that points to him killing Andrea."
"That bracelet they found doesn't prove anything. Even if she wore it that night, it doesn't prove he killed her."
"She was definitely wearing it. There's pictures of her online from that night. You can see the bracelet on her."
"They found blood on it. You think it's Andrea's?"
"Or Braden's. He cut his hand the night of the party during their fight. He said Andrea threw a glass at him and it broke when he tried to catch it, but who knows if that's true?"
"Nobody saw her throw the glass?"
"No. And there wasn't anything to clean up so either one of them cleaned it up or it never happened. I'm guessing it never happened."
"Then how did Braden cut his hand?"
"I don't know. I don't want to talk about it. Let's get your stuff and go."
We head back to his house. When we go inside, Roman is there.
"Dad, I thought you were coming back tomorrow," Jackson says.
"I was, but there was a party going on next door and I didn't want to deal with calling the police or trying to sleep through the noise. I think I might sell that house. The neighborhood's not what it used to be." He gives me a nod. "Rumor."
"Hi, Mr. Novak. How'd the casting go?"
"It's behind schedule. The studio's calling me day and night telling me to move things along or they'll halt production."
"Like not do the movie?" Jackson asks.
"They may not have a choice. If this continues, we won't have time to wrap up production for a summer release."
"This is because of me?" Jackson asks. "Because of what's happening?"
Roman rubs his hand over his jaw. "We'll figure it out. The studio execs are alarmists. They're just trying to light a fire under me to get things moving again."
"Dad, just go. Work on the movie. I've got this. I can work with the lawyers."
"Jackson, this isn't petty theft. This is murder. I need to be here for this."
"Can they move the auditions here?" I ask.
Roman chuckles, like it was a dumb question. "Like I said, we'll figure it out. We have our leads picked. We just need them to sign the paperwork. After that, thing's will go faster."
"Are you letting Brock audition?" I ask. "I won't tell him if you don't want him to know. I was just wondering."
"I might let him audition but I'm concerned about giving him the role."
"Why? Because of what's happening with Braden?"
"That, and because of our female lead. I don't want their past relationship causing drama on set."
"Past relationship? Wait—are you talking about Morgan?"
"It hasn't been made public yet, but yes, we've cast Morgan Kristoff as our lead. That needs to remain private until an announcement is made. Tell no one, including Brock."
I nod. "I won't tell."
Jackson takes my hand. "Dad, we're going to go watch som
e TV. We'll see you later."
As we're walking to his room, the doorbell rings.
Jackson stops suddenly. "Who the hell would be here this late?" The bell rings again. "I'll be right back."
He heads to the door. I follow him, wanting to see who's there. Roman's already at the door and opens it.
"Jonathan," Roman says. "It's rather late for a visit."
Jonathan Langly is one of Jackson's lawyers. I've seen him on the news, talking about the case.
Mr. Langly comes inside. "I didn't want to wait until tomorrow."
"Shit," Jackson says as his dad shuts the door. "Now what? They found something else?"
"No." He looks at Jackson. "This is regarding the evidence they already have, specifically what was found around her neck."
"The tie," Jackson says. "So whose is it? What'd they tell you?"
Mr. Langly takes a photo from his suit jacket and shows it to Jackson.
"No fucking way," Jackson says, staring at the photo.
I lean over to see the photo. It's a green and black plaid tie with initials stitched in black thread at the bottom.
J.D.N.
Jackson's middle name is Donovan.
J.D.N. Jackson Donovan Novak.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"What is it?" Roman asks, taking the photo from Mr. Langly. He looks at the photo, then over at Jackson, his jaw tightening. "What the hell does this mean? Did you—"
"No!" Jackson yells. "Dad, what the fuck? You seriously think I did this?"
Roman shoves the photo at him. "Then why do they have your tie? How the hell would anyone even get it from your room? You never have anyone here except—" He looks at me.
"I didn't do it," I say, backing away. "I've never even seen that tie."
"My parents gave it to me when I started at Twisted Pine," Jackson explains. He turns to his dad. "Accuse her again and you're out of here. I'm never speaking to you again."
Roman's eyes go to me, then back to Jackson. "Is there anyone else with your initials who goes there?"
"No. No one."
Looking at the photo again I see it's just like the ones they sell at the Twisted Pine bookstore. I saw them the day I went there with Maria.
"I didn't even know I still had it," Jackson says. "It was probably stuffed in the back of one of my drawers."
"Who else came over here who might've been in your room?" Mr. Langly asks.