the school and nothing more. He could, but, for a reason I couldn’t deny, my intuition screamed otherwise. If I hadn’t met him before our first day, maybe, but not now. No more ignoring my instincts.
I hadn’t been exposed to anything interesting, ever. Dad’s method of grieving for the past decade and all the moving could’ve been interesting if we had ever gone anywhere good. Instead, my lackluster life compared to the thrill of a lecture on how good kids had it today. I’d heard that one a few times. Excitement rushed through me before I had time to reach for my pills. I needed to know. Who was Brian Austin?
I popped a caffeine capsule in my mouth and swigged from the water bottle on my nightstand. Then I hit the treadmill without coffee. The belt purred underfoot. I mulled over what I knew, which admittedly wasn’t much, and set out a plan to see what I could find out. Light as a feather, I ran to expend energy, for the first time, instead of find it. The pill was part habit, part trouble-shooting the inevitable headache that came without one.
As a future attorney, I would benefit from the investigation experience, regardless of how rudimentary. So, in this case, being nosy and paranoid came second to career preparation.
I rushed through my morning routine and hated that I’d fallen asleep. I’d managed not to dream in the short snippet of time. For that I was thankful. There were too many better things to think about. I swept my hair off my shoulders and buttoned my cardigan. I shoved a journal in my backpack to write everything down. Then I left without Pixie. I wanted to get coffee and make it to the wall on campus before the crowd arrived. I hurried so I wouldn’t forget anything from the night before. If Pixie saw me, she’d know something was up. I was dying to tell her my suspicions, but I didn’t want to sound as unstable as I felt about my new game.
Outside, it was funny how different everything looked in the morning. Sunlight glistened off the dew, still fresh in shaded places. The blacktop sparkled. The birds sang. Squirrels were hard at work preparing for fall. Girls filled the entire shop from wall to windows. The line for coffee stretched out the door. The silent coffee shop from last night had been replaced, filled now with shoulder-to-shoulder patrons, laughing, voices blending together. Dozens of my classmates clung to one another, talking, gossiping, and smiling. I grabbed my order and ducked out.
The walk to school gave me time to think. Ideas and theories swirled in my mind. By the time I reached my wall, I already had a pen in hand. I looked over my shoulder frequently for good measure. Mowers in the distance provided the perfect amount of white noise. I tossed my bag onto the grass and got comfy.
“Good morning.” One of the groundskeepers approached with a tip of his hat. I couldn’t be sure, but he looked like the one who had witnessed the awesome rumble I’d had with my locker. I jumped at the sight of him, feeling inept after my attempts at vigilance. I hadn’t seen anyone around or heard him approach, thanks to the mowers.
“Hi.”
“Beautiful day.”
“Yep.”
He paused, shoving up his cap to wipe his forehead. “You picked a nice spot. Private.”
Maybe too private. I considered moving. Did serial killers ever pose as janitors?
“Enjoy the stolen moments.” His voice changed on the final words. His expression fell.
He walked away before I turned back to my notebook. I hated that I hadn’t seen or heard him until he was right in front of me. He looked back over his shoulder twice before disappearing around the side of the school. I kept one eye on him, behind a veil of my hair, until he was gone.
I scribbled in my journal until my hand hurt, forgetting where I was, putting thoughts of the awkward exchange out of my mind. A long shadow grew over me. My muscles tensed. I hadn’t heard anyone approach for the second time, and it was early. Dad would be
I hadn’t been exposed to anything interesting, ever. Dad’s method of grieving for the past decade and all the moving could’ve been interesting if we had ever gone anywhere good. Instead, my lackluster life compared to the thrill of a lecture on how good kids had it today. I’d heard that one a few times. Excitement rushed through me before I had time to reach for my pills. I needed to know. Who was Brian Austin?
I popped a caffeine capsule in my mouth and swigged from the water bottle on my nightstand. Then I hit the treadmill without coffee. The belt purred underfoot. I mulled over what I knew, which admittedly wasn’t much, and set out a plan to see what I could find out. Light as a feather, I ran to expend energy, for the first time, instead of find it. The pill was part habit, part trouble-shooting the inevitable headache that came without one.
As a future attorney, I would benefit from the investigation experience, regardless of how rudimentary. So, in this case, being nosy and paranoid came second to career preparation.
I rushed through my morning routine and hated that I’d fallen asleep. I’d managed not to dream in the short snippet of time. For that I was thankful. There were too many better things to think about. I swept my hair off my shoulders and buttoned my cardigan. I shoved a journal in my backpack to write everything down. Then I left without Pixie. I wanted to get coffee and make it to the wall on campus before the crowd arrived. I hurried so I wouldn’t forget anything from the night before. If Pixie saw me, she’d know something was up. I was dying to tell her my suspicions, but I didn’t want to sound as unstable as I felt about my new game.
Outside, it was funny how different everything looked in the morning. Sunlight glistened off the dew, still fresh in shaded places. The blacktop sparkled. The birds sang. Squirrels were hard at work preparing for fall. Girls filled the entire shop from wall to windows. The line for coffee stretched out the door. The silent coffee shop from last night had been replaced, filled now with shoulder-to-shoulder patrons, laughing, voices blending together. Dozens of my classmates clung to one another, talking, gossiping, and smiling. I grabbed my order and ducked out.
The walk to school gave me time to think. Ideas and theories swirled in my mind. By the time I reached my wall, I already had a pen in hand. I looked over my shoulder frequently for good measure. Mowers in the distance provided the perfect amount of white noise. I tossed my bag onto the grass and got comfy.
“Good morning.” One of the groundskeepers approached with a tip of his hat. I couldn’t be sure, but he looked like the one who had witnessed the awesome rumble I’d had with my locker. I jumped at the sight of him, feeling inept after my attempts at vigilance. I hadn’t seen anyone around or heard him approach, thanks to the mowers.
“Hi.”
“Beautiful day.”
“Yep.”
He paused, shoving up his cap to wipe his forehead. “You picked a nice spot. Private.”
Maybe too private. I considered moving. Did serial killers ever pose as janitors?
“Enjoy the stolen moments.” His voice changed on the final words. His expression fell.
He walked away before I turned back to my notebook. I hated that I hadn’t seen or heard him until he was right in front of me. He looked back over his shoulder twice before disappearing around the side of the school. I kept one eye on him, behind a veil of my hair, until he was gone.
I scribbled in my journal until my hand hurt, forgetting where I was, putting thoughts of the awkward exchange out of my mind. A long shadow grew over me. My muscles tensed. I hadn’t heard anyone approach for the second time, and it was early. Dad would be
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