by Pearl Love
“Tough luck, huh?”
Jeremy turned to find Patricia watching him with sympathy in her eyes. He shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal, but thanks for the sentiment,” he added with a smile.
“Hope it doesn’t take you too long.” She shot a furtive glance toward Tyrell. “Um, are you going to be okay here with, uh, him?”
Jeremy frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied before thinking of all the ways his and Tyrell’s forced interaction could turn extremely awkward very quickly. Still, it was none of Patricia’s concern. “It’s fine.”
She peered up at him with a searching gaze. “If you’re sure.”
“Yeah, but thanks.” He forced himself to smile.
Patricia mirrored his expression. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later.”
“Oh, hey, Patricia,” Jeremy called out as he thought of something.
She turned back, her brows raised in curiosity.
“I got an invitation in my locker about that party I mentioned.”
“Oh yes!” Patricia walked back over to him. “When is it again?”
Jeremy fished the folded piece of cardstock from his book bag. Nicole had gone all out for her special day. The invitation was obviously a professional job, the gold-embossed letters printed on the cream stationary in a fancy font he could barely read.
“Uh, next Saturday at 7:00 p.m. I think the address is in the Beverly neighborhood.” Jeremy had never been that far down on the South Side himself, but he was familiar with the general layout of the city, having lived there his entire life.
“Beverly,” Patricia said thoughtfully. “That’s, like, south of 95th Street, isn’t it?”
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Is that too far for you?” It would be quite a hike for him to get there, but he’d already committed himself to going, even though his original intent of using the event to get over Tyrell was a less valid excuse at this point.
“No, though my dad will probably insist on dropping me off himself.” Patricia winced in embarrassment. “He’s such a worrywart.”
Jeremy smirked. “Nothing wrong with that. So I’ll just meet you there, then, since I’ll probably be taking the bus.”
“Okay, that sounds good.” She glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I need to run. See you next week.”
Jeremy waved and watched her until she left the room. When he looked around, he noticed for the first time that everyone else was already gone except for him, Mr. Crabtree and, of course, Tyrell, who had already begun moving the stands from the percussion section to the back corner of the room.
“No slacking now, Mr. Michalak,” Mr. Crabtree said without looking up from his paperwork. “It’s Friday, and I’m sure you want to go home and enjoy your weekend.”
Jeremy sighed and grabbed his music stand and the one next to it. Tyrell was working steadily and seemed reluctant to make small talk. So, business as usual, then, Jeremy grumbled silently. They passed the next five or so minutes with only the sound of the music stands clanking against each other breaking the silence. Jeremy peered furtively at Tyrell for the tenth time, wondering if he should be the one to make the first move. Each time, however, he decided against it. Since Tyrell was the one with the problem, it was up to him to address it. Still, the awkwardness of not speaking was starting to get to him. Jeremy exhaled with profound relief when Mr. Crabtree’s cell phone rang.
“Yes,” Mr. Crabtree said, clearly aware of the caller’s identity. “Yes, that’s right. Monday night.” He sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew. “Same as the others? Damn it.”
Jeremy frowned as he made his sixth trip toward the back of the room. He’d reached the flute section, while Tyrell was clearing away the stands from the low brass section. He paused and looked thoughtfully toward his teacher. Monday? What had happened then, he wondered. In the next instant, he gasped. That was when that freshman had been found in Lincoln Park. Jeremy looked over at Tyrell, only to find his gaze captured by an equally startled pair of brown eyes. Apparently he hadn’t been alone in connecting the latest victim to the larger puzzle. For a moment, Jeremy thought Tyrell was going to ignore him like he’d been doing for the past week, but Tyrell’s expression hardened as he obviously made some decision.
Jeremy watched warily as Tyrell veered toward him instead of going back to where he’d left off in collecting the stands.
“He knows something,” Tyrell said in a low tone.
Jeremy blinked. “You think?” He looked back at Mr. Crabtree, whose complexion had gone from its usually ruddy hue to an ashen gray.
“I don’t know for certain,” Mr. Crabtree said as he worried his lower lip with his teeth. “The two since the beginning of term and that kid from track, yes, but otherwise….”
“Okay, maybe,” Jeremy agreed, unable to deny what he’d just heard. Mr. Crabtree might not be talking about the girls who had been found dead where he and Tyrell had had their eerie encounters, but there was no mistaking that the “kid from track” was Sam Baker. “But what can we do? We can’t just come right out and ask him—”
Jeremy stared after Tyrell as he clomped down the stairs and stopped right in front of the teacher’s desk. Mr. Crabtree had just disconnected his call, and he jerked as he noticed Tyrell looming over him.
“Yes, Mr. Hughes? Did you need something?” Mr. Crabtree glanced around and frowned when he saw that half the stands remained. “I really need to you finish up with those before you go.”
“You know something, don’t you?” Tyrell asked bluntly. “About the kids who have died?”
Mr. Crabtree did a credible job of looking completely confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tyrell growled, and Jeremy shivered at the sound, though in fear or excitement he couldn’t say for sure.
“I heard you. We both did.” Tyrell glanced back at Jeremy for emphasis. “Sam and those other kids all dying from heart attacks? I can’t believe that’s a coincidence, and neither do you, Mr. Crabtree. Am I right?” Tyrell braced his hands on the teacher’s desk and leaned forward, clearly intending to intimidate. “What is going on? Why are all of these people dying?”
Jeremy admired Tyrell’s forthright approach, but he knew it was doomed to failure when Mr. Crabtree merely returned Tyrell’s glare with an even gaze.
“Mr. Hughes, I’m impressed by your imagination. I heard from Mrs. Brooks that you’re quite the fan of literature. Perhaps you should channel that passion into writing.”
Tyrell reared back in shock at the artful deflection. “What?”
Mr. Crabtree stood and gave them both a smile. “Now, I really need to get going. I have to supervise detention today, and I’m running late.” He swept a meaningful gaze over the room. “Can I trust you two to finish up here without me watching over you?”
Tyrell tried to hold firm, but Jeremy could tell by the sudden slump in his shoulders when he bowed to the inevitable. “Yeah, sure.”
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy replied when his teacher looked at him for confirmation.
“Good.” Mr. Crabtree gathered up some papers and, after a final nod, left them in the room.
“Son of a bitch,” Tyrell said through clenched teeth. “He was obviously lying.”
Jeremy sighed. “Maybe. Probably,” he amended when Tyrell glared at him, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now. Not without something more concrete to confront him with. You have to admit it sounds crazy thinking a bunch of heart attacks have some sinister connection.” He hesitated but pushed forward, seeing as how they were actually speaking now. “Speaking of which, have you learned anything else?”
Tyrell shook his head sharply. “No, nothing other than about that kid who was found earlier this week. You heard about him, I take it.”
“I did, and I haven’t made any more progress either.” It’s now or never, Jeremy thought as he rushed on. “Um, maybe we could get together—”
“Let’s finish up with this,” T
yrell said before turning to run back up the stairs. He grabbed two stands in each hand. “I need to get home and check up on my grandmother.”
As excuses went, it effectively took the wind out of Jeremy’s sails. While he didn’t doubt Tyrell was telling the truth, Tyrell didn’t bother trying to hide his eagerness to depart. Jeremy pursed his lips in annoyance, but said nothing. Whatever truce they had drawn was clearly dissolved. They finished up their task without additional conversation. As soon as Tyrell cleared the last of the stands from his half of the room, he grabbed his backpack and left without even saying good-bye.
Jeremy slammed his remaining stands down with a noisy clatter, cursing Tyrell beneath his breath. What in the hell was his problem? Tyrell was obviously still concerned about whatever was going on, but he seemed as disinclined as ever to renew their brief camaraderie. “Screw him,” Jeremy muttered softly as he departed, turning off the lights as he went.
The sun was shining, though not as brightly as it had been a few weeks ago at that time of day. Fall had finally begun a few days ago, and the days were noticeably getting shorter. The fact that he wasn’t roasting was further testament to the rapidly changing seasons. Jeremy was thinking about how to best prioritize the homework he needed to finish over the weekend when he happened to catch sight of Tyrell. He was standing on the opposite side of the wide path that connected the front of the main building with the sidewalk. Jeremy wondered what he was doing there, since he’d said he needed to get home, but his confusion ended abruptly when he saw the pretty girl with braids walking up to Tyrell with a broad smile.
Right. Girlfriend. Jeremy rolled his eyes, mostly at himself, and continued on his way. As seemed their habit, the Jock Gang, as he’d come to call them, were hanging out in their usual spot. They always seemed to be there when Jeremy was leaving band practice, and he wondered if they had somehow memorized his after-school schedule. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. They didn’t always give him a hard time. Most often, they let him pass by unmolested. He hoped today would be one of those days.
Unfortunately, Jeremy soon realized his error. The blond ringleader gave him a nasty look as he approached. Once again, Ryan wasn’t there, and Jeremy realized the gang behaved whenever his homeroom classmate was present. Groaning, Jeremy squared his shoulders and prepared himself for whatever abuse they planned on handing out that day.
“Hey, cocksucker! You sure do got a pretty mouth.”
Deliverance? Seriously? Jeremy deducted points for lack of originality even as his face flamed with mortification. He knew he should probably report them to the principal or something, but since they hadn’t moved beyond verbal taunts, he didn’t feel like going through the hassle.
“You hungry?” This from a huge guy with brown hair, who was probably a linebacker or something. “I got something for you right here.”
Jeremy kept his gaze averted, but he could see the guy grab his package out the corner of his eyes. He grimaced as he heard nervous tittering coming from behind him. Having an audience made the occurrence far worse than it might have otherwise been, though Jeremy knew he should be glad he wasn’t alone with these assholes. He suddenly remembered who else might be watching and glanced back over his shoulder.
Sure enough, Tyrell was staring directly at him, but as soon as Jeremy looked toward him, Tyrell pointedly redirected his gaze away from the uncomfortable scene. Jeremy’s stomach plunged at the evidence of Tyrell’s indifference, and he wished he could follow his queasy gut into the ground. If he’d had any doubts about what his so-called friend thought of him, they were completely eradicated. Jeremy couldn’t remember anything hurting worse than the proof that Tyrell didn’t give a shit about him.
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
“YOU LOOK very nice, Tyrell.”
“What? Oh thanks.” Tyrell forced himself to stop searching around for a certain head of long, blond hair and pay attention to his date. “You too,” he added, meaning every word. The party invitation had stated that the dress was casual, so he’d opted for his nicest pair of jeans, cleanest pair of gym shoes, and the dark green collared shirt he wore to less formal church events.
Shaunteé, on the other hand, had gone all out. Her outfit was fairly simple, consisting of a navy blue pencil skirt and a matching top, but her blouse was made of some sort of sparkly material that shimmered whenever she moved. Her towering heels put her just shy of eye-to-eye with him, and she had done her braids up in some complicated arrangement he couldn’t even begin to figure out.
Shaunteé didn’t live far from Nicole’s house, so they’d made plans to meet up at the party right at seven. Tyrell had made sure to be a little early to keep her from having to wait for him. Not that it would have been a big deal. All of her best friends were in attendance, including the birthday girl herself, so it wasn’t like she would have been standing in a corner alone until he arrived. Her confident smile indicated she was in her element, though he couldn’t remember ever having seen her in an awkward moment for as long as he’d known her.
“If you were looking for Ryan, he’s over there with Jeff.”
Tyrell followed Shaunteé’s finger and found his friend and Nicole’s boyfriend loitering off to the side of the living room with several other members of the football team.
“I see him,” Tyrell said. “What about Cynthia? Is she here yet?”
“Nicole says she politely declined the invitation. Her loss.” Shaunteé let out a delicate snort. “She probably needed the time to soak all those calluses off her feet.”
Tyrell let that go, not wanting to get into it with Shaunteé about her ongoing cold war with Cynthia. He had learned from years of attending church functions that catty women were best ignored whenever possible.
“There’s drinks and snacks at the table by the wall.”
Tyrell recognized the hopeful hint in her eyes. “Can I get you something?”
“A glass of punch would be lovely,” she replied with a smile, clearly pleased with how quick he was on the uptake.
Tyrell weaved through the crowd of people crammed into Nicole’s spacious living room as he made his way to the refreshment table. Several acquaintances greeted him, and he was glad he recognized everyone he saw. He’d gone to parties where he didn’t know many of the other attendees, and they had always been miserable affairs. He might not be a social butterfly, but holding up the wall was never fun.
The thought of being a newbie made him renew his earlier search. Jeremy, however, was nowhere to be found. Tyrell hoped for a fervent moment that he’d decided not to come. Not only for Jeremy’s sake but for his as well. If things had been strained between them after the first time Tyrell had seen Jeremy being bullied, that was nothing compared to the gulf that had opened between them since the second incident. Tyrell was beyond grateful Cynthia hadn’t been there to see what a cowardly piece of shit he’d been. Being harassed like that was bad enough without having at least a fifth of the student body as a witness. If any teachers had been around, the players involved—Dunce and his crew of idiot linebackers—would have been suspended in a heartbeat. But, the same as Tyrell had done, everyone present had plainly decided it was best to simply stay out of it.
Tyrell suspected none of them were haunted by the pain and betrayal he’d seen in Jeremy’s beautiful eyes when he realized Tyrell was watching and doing nothing to help. An entire week had passed, and he had barely slept a wink since then. How could he when the last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Jeremy’s devastated face?
Jeremy hadn’t spoken to him after that, and what little progress they’d made in their investigation had ground to a seemingly permanent halt. Tyrell could hardly blame Jeremy if he never wanted to even see him again, and he almost felt sorry for Jeremy that they were forced to be together at least once a day in homeroom. Jeremy had stopped eating lunch with them, apparently having given Cynthia some reasonable excuse, seeing as how she hadn’t made a big deal about it. She’d subjected Tyrell to several highly s
uspicious glares, but that’s as far as she’d gone.
Tyrell sighed and tried to focus on his current surroundings. There was nothing he could do about it now, so he might as well attempt to have a good time at the party. Once he had his and Shaunteé’s drinks in hand, he looked around and found her standing with Nicole near the gathering of football players. He headed in their direction, and Ryan greeted him with a grin when he saw him.
“Hey, man, what’s up?”
Tyrell dodged nimbly as Ryan tried to steal one of the cups from his hand. “Not for you, idiot. Here you go, Shaunteé.”
She batted her lashes and took the cup with a smile, though she never halted her conversation with Nicole. A few other members of the dance squad wandered over, and the pitches of the girls’ voices grew higher as they hit a critical mass. Tyrell half expected them to break out into a cheer routine at any moment.
“So, you gonna hit that tonight?”
Tyrell frowned at Ryan. “Hit what?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “That, dumbass.” He pointed conspicuously at Shaunteé. “That girl is smokin’. Primed and ready to go, if you know what I mean.”
“Why don’t you say that louder?” Tyrell grated in a low voice. “I don’t think she heard you.” To be fair, the music was banging at a volume that made it difficult to hear anything. That didn’t stop the rush of mortified heat that flooded his cheeks at Ryan’s uncouth suggestion. “Whatever happens between me and Shaunteé is none of your damn business, Gage.”
Ryan held up his hands defensively. “Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. I know you’ll tell me eventually.” His irrepressible grin returned quickly, and he wrapped an arm around Tyrell’s shoulders as he angled them back toward the rest of the group.
The conversation turned inevitably to football and the approaching Homecoming game. Tyrell liked the sport as much as the next guy, but he couldn’t discuss it in the same depth as the players. Even the dance squad members seemed to be more knowledgeable than he was, which he supposed made sense as they practiced at the same time on the athletic field behind the Phys Ed building.