The smell of damp clothing and sticky feet filled the school gym. Christine found it odd that she would rather smell embalming fluid and dead bodies than sweaty high school students. The two things smelled just as bad, but the latter was more her style. High school was supposed to be a place of learning, but instead, it was a place for teenagers to hook up and have their hormones twisted into pretzels. Not only that, but the teachers kind of sucked. No one understood any of the material. Other than Michael, she was the only kid that really got what they were learning.
She could thank her dad for having all of the same classes as Michael. Being the daughter of an FBI agent and a world renowned anthropologist could do wonders when dealing with teachers and principals. Even though most of her teachers, especially science, were undereducated, but Christine would rather go to public school than private. It wasn't the cost, it really wasn't, but it was the uniforms and the smart snobby kids. In public school, she was known as the "genius" or "nerd" along with Michael, but in private school, so many other kids were smarter and would tear her down. The kids at her current school only made fun of her for being smart, if she transferred to private school, it would be because of her being stupid.
Michael wheezed beside her, his buttery fingers smearing his glasses lenses as he pressed them up his nose, "I really, really hate PE."
Christine gave a sympathetic smile, "You look like you're about to asphyxiate."
"I might as well," He said, swiping off his glasses before wiping them uselessly on his wet shirt, "Who even needs to play basketball anyways? Why can't we do something-"
"With dirt?" She cut him off, "You are so much like Hodgins."
"Well I am his son," Michael answered, "What about you? What would you rather do instead of this?"
"Karate," She answered simply, dodging a few players as they darted for the ball.
He snickered, "Of course you'd say that, you're great at it."
"You would be too if you had agreed on taking classes with me," Christine muttered, glancing over at the PE teacher.
Michael shrugged, "I didn't want to miss summer camp."
"With your dad?" She asked flatly just as their teacher blew the whistle.
"Booth, Hodgins, get your asses onto the court!" Their coach yelled.
Michael rolled his eyes, "Typical, picking on the weak kids while the cheer team sits on the bleachers looking all sexy as can be."
"Weak?" Christine scoffed, "Speak for yourself."
As school let out, crowds of teenagers swept into the parking lot and streets as they headed home. Christine and Michael walked side by side along the chain link fence, heading towards her house. Both of their parents had said they would be home late, and what could be better on a Wednesday night than finishing homework and mess around with household items? It wouldn't take long for them to find something to experiment on, and Christine did live right next to a forest with several dead things, bugs, and plants.
"Is Parker gonna be there?" Michael asked, squinting as he looked towards the setting sun.
Christine shrugged, "Who knows, he's supposed to be off at college for computer engineering. I haven't seen him in a few months." Christine paused, "You know you should stop looking directly at the sun, it causes blindness."
"Like I'm not already blind," He sneered, holding his glasses up for her to see.
Christine rolled her eyes, "You aren't completely blind, dumb ass."
He sighed heavily, "But I will be when I get older."
"As will several others. As humans increase in age, several of our external senses begin to fail." Christine shrugged, "It's just what happens."
Michael's nose scrunched up, "You sounded like your mom right there."
"Huh," She paused, "I guess I did."
The rest of the way to her house was led in small conversation, having to do with the chemistry homework that had been assigned earlier that day along with their usual conversation, what is your perfect murder? Both knew that there was no one perfect murder, and that their parents would be able to figure out who did it and the cause of death was easily. But that was the challenge, figuring out the most intricate and complicated murder without leaving too much evidence.
As Christine reached the door, she continued, "But if you burned the gloves-"
"You'd still be able to find particles of what type of fabric was used-"
"And when you found that out, you would be able to figure out what kind of article of clothing it was-"
"Where they would eventually track down who bought what, where, and when," Michael finished with a flourish.
Christine grinned, shoving the front door open with her shoulder. The door had started sticking lately from age and wear, and needed a little extra umph to open and close. Her dad would have to fix it that upcoming weekend. "But what if you already had the clothing item, lets say gloves, for a while and hadn't used them in several years."
"But what would happen when someone noticed that you didn't have them anymore?"
"Couldn't you say you loaned them to a friend and never got them back?" Christine asked, throwing her keys onto the dining room table.
Michael shook his head, tossing his bag onto the counter top before opening the fridge, "Too suspicious."
Christine pursed her lips as Michael pulled out a yogurt, "You could throw the ashes in a lake or river... but there would be witnesses."
"Unless you pretended it was a dead relative's ashes you were spreading," Michael offered, waving a plastic spoon in the air.
Christine shook her head, "And when the FBI or someone else figured out you had no cremated friends or relatives?"
He laughed once, "Guess you'd have to commit another murder to just make the other have a legitimate story. Now how would you commit that one without our parents figuring it out?"
"Easy, you kill our parents," Christine smirked, pulling out an English textbook.
Michael took a spoonful of pink yogurt, "Now that would be the perfect murder. Killing the only people that would be able to figure it out."
"It would be a lot of people to get rid of... but how would we do it?" Christine asked curiously, "Poison?"
"My dad would be able to figure out if he were being poisoned, what about stabbing?" Michael asked, taking his food to the table.
"My mom and dad would be able to take you down in two seconds." Christine pulled out a stack of notes onto the table.
"Gunshot to the head?"
Christine paused before flipping to the correct page in her book, "Possibly."
Michael rubbed his hands together, his curly hair bouncing from the motion, "Alright, now we're getting somewhere."
She shoved her book over to Michael, "Yeah, now let's get to work."
It only took a couple of hours to get their homework done, and even then, their parents were still at work. With time to spare and nothing else to do, the pair of prodigies explored the forest of a backyard. Michael's arms were filled with glass test tubes and containers while Christine held a flashlight to lead their way. The sun was well below the trees and stars were beginning to peek out from the night sky. Christine paused at the sound of a twig snapping, her head whipping back to face Michael who stared back sheepishly.
"Sorry, I never learned to tread quietly," He said, his breath visible.
The temperature had cooled considerably in the few hours they had spent inside. A dampness and fog had settled in as they crept through the darkness. Christine couldn't help but feel like they were being watched, no matter how many times she had traveled into the woods with her family, she never felt safe. The tall trees and dense canopy were never enough cover for her, but her father always thought differently. He had said that this was probably the safest place to be if there was any danger because, one, she knew the place like the back of her hand (her dad had made sure of that) and, two, it would be hard to shoot someone with all the trees in the way.
"It's fine, you know how protective my dad is," Christine reassured as she avoided a large and curved twig.
Michael didn't notice the twig and proceeded to stumble onto it, nearly crashing to the ground along with his collected moss and bug samples. Christine let out a small chuckle as he regained his balance. He rolled his eyes, adjusting his hold on the samples as they continued on. Another snap came from ahead of them, causing Christine to shine her light on a nearby bush.
"What was that?" Michael breathed, coming closer to Christine, as if she were surrounded by a shroud of safety.
Christine shut off the light, sending them in complete darkness, "An animal... we get coyotes back here... maybe even a rabbit." She swallowed hard, as if cotton had been shoved down her throat.
Michael shook his head, accidentally dropping his glasses in the process, "It was too noisy to be a rabbit... or even a coyote."
"We need to get back to the house," Christine's voice was in his ear, her voice barely audible, hot breath tickling his ear.
"I-I dropped my glasses..." He muttered hastily, his voice growing dry as he bent over to pick them up.
Another shuffle caused him to drop his samples, grabbing onto Christine's arm, "Chris, help me get out of here. I can't see-"
"I got you," She whispered reassuringly, Pulling him in another direction.
As she led him towards what she thought was the house, she couldn't help but trip over branches and twigs. Michael seemed to be ten times louder than she, it was no surprise either since even in the light, he wasn't able to walk without stepping on even the largest of branches. Now with the sound they were making, it would be easy for something to track them back to the house. Christine strained her ears to hear anything behind them, for the shuddering of leaves or the crack of a stick, but nothing other than their own movements could be heard.
"I think it stopped following us... I'm gonna turn on my light now. Alright?" It was for her own reassurance, she needed to see if anything was around them.
As she snapped the light on, her heart sunk to the pit of her stomach, and dropped the light, making the man's face invisible in the dark. She hadn't seen it before she had dropped the flashlight but she had definitely seen the silhouette of a man. Her mind whizzed into action. Very male, possible 193.04 cm (6'4") 200 or more pounds, and very muscular.
"Chris? What's going on?" Michael asked in the silence, he couldn't see what was going on.
She jerked him from their position, trying to run around the towering figure but was met with a blow to the temple. He had hit their heads together, not too hard, he wanted them alive. At least... for the next few hours.