hey guys. sorry this took forever, i had the beginning but wasn't sure how to end it. sorry its kinda short but i wanted to get something out! read and review =]
Chapter 7
"Murdered?" I repeated in disbelief. My dad told me everything there was to know. I mean, if there was an investigation, certainly I would have known. Right?
"Look, I don't want to believe it earlier, but it's the only story that works…I'm sorry."
I didn't know what to say, so I looked out into the water instead of continuing the conversation. It seemed so surreal to be sitting there, discussing the possibility of whether or not my mother was murdered…
I opened my eyes a little while later when I felt the brush of something on my head. The moon was lower in the sky than I remembered, and there was a stiff pain in my shoulder. I again felt the brush of skin against my forehead, and realized I was lying on Nate's shoulder. He was absentmindedly brushing my bangs away from my eyes, staring out at the water. Even though I could feel my neck muscles already starting to spasm, I fought the urge to move from my position. His skin was warm and his shirt soft, and then I started to grasp what he was saying. What was I thinking? I'm not the type of girl who falls apart over some guy. And I don't even like Nate. Right?
Before I could grapple with my new feelings anymore, Nate noticed I woke up. "Hey," he told me, sitting up. "You kinda fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake you."
"Thanks," I replied sheepishly, still not sure of what I thought. I took my cell phone out of my pocket. "Holy shit!" I yelled when I opened the screen. "Its 2:45 in the morning!"
I stood up quickly, and started to walk away from the lake. "Oh no, oh no…"
"What?" Nate jogged up to where I was.
"They do cabin checks every night at 3...shit! What are we gonna do? There's no way that we're gonna make it in time…Shit, this is not what I need right now!" I started swearing under my breath as Nate struggled to keep up with me.
"Don't worry about it…Come on, we'll just have to run!"
We made it in 10 minutes. I ran faster than I had in a while, letting the slapping wind distract me from what was going on inside my head. Despite the obvious distractions, I let my mind slide to the subject towards the end, thinking about where he was going to go. The road leading into the camp was across campus--at least a half an hour walk. Surely someone would catch him, with all the counselors checking the cabins. And besides, I wasn't ready for him to leave.
"Where are you gonna go now? There's now way you'll make it across camp and not get camp," I worried.
"What else can I do?"
I thought for a moment before replying. "Stay with me."
He looked taken aback, but slightly pleased. "Where?"
"The cabin. Please," I pleaded. "You can sleep on the floor. I'll give you a blanket and a pillow. Nate, please…don't leave me alone," I pleaded, looking into his eyes, hoping he would crack.
"Fine," he sighed.
'Thank you!" I jumped into his arms before realizing what I was doing, and pulled away. "Just wait out here. I'll come get you when they've left."
"Nate! Wake up!"
"Wha? Wha-What time is it?" He asked groggily, coming out of his uncomfortable rest on the floor of my cabin.
"Sometime around 5."
He sat up, holding his head in his hands.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing. I just…have a really bad heachache."
"Sorry," I sympathized. "Maybe some food will help."
"Food? Ya…"
I grabbed his hand and helped him up. I dragged him out the front door and regretfully dropped his hand, hoping he was following my lead towards the mess hall.
"They actually serve food this early in the morning?" he questioned doubtfully.
It turns out that they don't serve food that early. We sat on the steps of the mess hall, praying that someone would start serving food soon.
"So," I asked, eager to end the awkward silence that had come between us. "Hows the studio work coming? Still hate your manager?"
"Pretty much," he answered. "I mean, sometimes it's ok, like when they actually listen to us. But lately…it's just all about the money. The fame. Anything but the music."
"Tough position," I sympathized. "If you leave, you have nothing; you stay, you have more than you wanted."
"Ya. Most people don't get that. I mean, according to Forbes or something, I'm worth like 50 million dollars," I gasped in shock when I heard how much the amount supposedly was. "But I don't care. Yeah, it's nice to be able to have nice clothes and perform all the time…But for what they put us through, I'm not sure it's worth it anymore."
"I'm really sorry," I countered, unsure what to say. "Do you still get to write some of your music?
"Not really. Well, I do write my own music. But it's never on any of the albums. I just 'co-write' it with song writers."
"I take it that means they write and you don't do anything?"
"Pretty much. It's just about making the fans think we write our own music."
A brain flash flew into my head, but I wasn't sure whether or not he'd agree to it. "Maybe…Welll…"
"Come on, spit it out already," he joked around.
I stood up. "Maybe I could produce for you. For one of the songs you wrote."
He got up off the steps, walking a few steps away, and crossed his arms. His face was out of view, so I had no idea whether he thought I was genius or just needed help with thought.
"That just might work," he turned around to face me,. "I have a song…It wouldn't be too hard. We can send it to the recording company, show them that what I write isn't crap…" He trailed off, hurt at the words someone within his staff must have uttered.
"We can play it for the camp, see if they like it. Bring the stats to the record company."
He nodded, slightly smiling at the prospect. Without warning, he came over and pulled me into a huge bear hug. "Thanks," he mumbled, and I thought I felt tears on my cheek. Was he crying?
"Caitlyn?!" A voice exclaimed, and I sped out of Nate's arms.
"Hey Mitchie."
