Again: I uploaded this chapter right after chapter 32. Since I was on a time crunch, I didn't have time to fix all of the possible errors that may be present. I apologize in advance. Please enjoy the story! :)

XXXIII. Last Minute Unthinkables (Part II)

Thursday

1 day until Whack-Your-Brain

Vivian Graham

(Continuing where we left things off in Chapter 31)

She was murdered. I repeat the phrase in my head over and over again.

For a month my family and I were left in the dark, waiting and waiting to find out who had viciously shot my mom in her own home. The police department ran an autopsy and confirmed that on the firearm that was used, her fingerprints were on it, holding down the trigger. My dad told me the news after he had been told by the cops. She had shot herself. She was the cause of her own death.

My mouth opens, but I can't get any words out. Now the detectives have changed their tune. After I had painfully swallowed the bitterest of pills. I finally learned to live with the horrible reality that my mom was the suspect in her own murder. Now...now it's no longer a reality.

I grab the table with my hands. "How...how is that...possible?" I look at either detective. "The police department—y-you guys—said it yourselves that my mom killed herself, that her fingerprints were on the gun. How did you get it wrong?" The sound of my voice evaporates into an airy whisper.

Both detectives stare at me, and I can see their eyes glossy with empathy. "Her hands were on the trigger," Detective Cadence responds, "but she didn't pull the trigger."

I squint at her. "Now I'm more confused."

"We found...bits of the autopsy that had been...missing for a lack of better words." Cadence is, again, carefully choosing her words.

"These autopsies showed that not only were your mom's fingers on the trigger," Detective Wallace says, "but someone else's fingerprints were on her fingers."

"We think the extra fingerprints belong to the person who forced the gun in your mom's hands." Cadence elaborates, "applying the pressure to the trigger, shooting her in the mouth."

I put my hands on either side of my head, my elbows pointing up in both directions. The room is shaking around me.

"Vivian." The woman detective puts her hand on my shoulder.

Detective Morris moves beside me. "I'll get her some water."

I hear the door open and close as he leaves the room.

"You alright, Vivian?" Detective Wallace's voice sounds close, and I look up to see him standing beside me.

"It wasn't my mom who killed herself?" I say, putting my hands down. "How could you have missed this information before?" I look at both detectives, wondering if their babying me is for the best or downright insulting.

"The records somehow went missing," Detective Cadence answers, "but we managed to obtain them. We don't have a lot of time to go into details, but the point is that we have the information now. Detectives Wallace, Morris and I decided that it was in your best interest to know the truth."

I stare at Cadence then look up at Wallace, who slowly nods in agreement. "So that means the murderer...he or she, whoever they are...is still out there."

"We're doing everything we can to find this person, Vivian." Detective Wallace says. "And you can help us by telling us more about your mother."

"How is that helpful?" I ask.

"We can possibly connect her history to the killer's motives." Wallace replies.

"Motives?" I echo.

"The killer's reasons for shooting your mom." Detective Cadence explains.

Detective Morris comes back in and sets a nurse's paper cup of water next to me. "Here you go."

"We know that this is the last thing you wanna do right now, Vivian," Cadence says, "but—"

"You're right." I say, standing up from my chair and taking the water with me. "There's just too much stuff going on. You can't just come in here, tell me that my mom has a killer, that they're still out there, and pick apart her life like she somehow deserved it? Yeah this is definitely the last thing I wanna do. Thank you for talking to me, but I can't do this right now." I quickly head for the door.

"Vivian." Detective Wallace calls after me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey," Detective Morris intersects my path. "Vivian, we're on your side here. I get it. Your family has gone through a hell of a two years trying to cope and leaving old friends behind. That's a lot for a teenager to go through: we get that. We also understand that it may take you some time to come around, but if you decide you do wanna talk to us about anything, anything at all," he pulls out a card from his pocket, "We're one call away."

I take the small white card from him. It has Morris' professional job title typed on it along with his phone number and email.

I look up at him. "Thanks." I say calmly. "I'll keep you guys in mind."

"Take care of yourself, Vivian." Detective Cadence calls out as I exit the conference room.

I exhale as I'm greeted with the cooler temperature of the library, beyond detectives close the door behind me.

"How'd it go?" Miss Sauvé takes my shoulder.

I open my mouth, but how can I describe to my counselor that my mom had been murdered and that they're still out there?

"I understand. You don't have to say anything." She smiles at me. "You know where I am if you need to talk." She enters the conference room, closing the door behind her.

"Yep. I know right where you are." I say to the door.

I begin to walk across the library to get back to Marco at the study tables, and this is when it gets to me.

There's someone out there who could potentially kill me and my family.

I fold my arms across my chest. It's really chilly in here. Or I'm anemic all of a sudden.

"Vivian!" A loud whisper snaps me from my thoughts. As I look up, I notice Queenie walking towards me. She's wearing a royal blue hat spotted with pink hearts.

"Queenie!" I whisper back.

We dash towards each other and hug. I haven't seen much of her this week, and after all that just happened, I need her right now.

"It's been too long since we saw each other." I say. "Why can't I live a normal life, Queenie?"

"I know the feeling." She squeezes me. "How have you been?"

"Can we talk? I have so much to tell you." A tear rolls down my face. "About my mom. About Rick. Everything."

"I'm listening." Queenie says.

"I knew you would." I remark.

"Do you think the killer knows we're in Canada now? That they followed us here?"

Naturally I tell Queenie about my mom's newly discovered killer. I have enough faith in her to believe that she isn't the one after all.

"The killer has to be smart to make it look like suicide." She answers. "I wouldn't put the thought past me. Do you need a place to stay? You're always welcome to stay at my house if you're at all worried about your safety."

"Thanks, Queenie." I say.

My friend and I are walking through the hallways, trying to make it to class. Media immersion will be a tad bit different today since Snake is busy quizzing the Whack-Your-Brain contestants. That means I get to steer clear of Rick again, and I'm rejoicing on the inside.

"Can we please talk some more at lunch?" I ask my friend.

"How about after school?" Queenie suggests. "I'm meeting with the nur—uh, a teacher for lunch."

I nod. "Okay. I'll see you later then."

"You bet." We exchange a hug before we split to our classes. Queenie continues walking straight; I turn a corner to get to Mr. Simpson's room.

As I reach the classroom, I find Miss Kwan standing outside the door. "Good morning, Vivian." She greets me.

"Good morning." I return the greeting.

"Feel free to use this block as a study seminar." Miss Kwan continues. "You may work on projects from your other classes. Just don't socialize with your classmates."

"Alright." I say as I walk into Snake's classroom. Everyone inside is sitting at their stationed computers, some are at the work tables in the back of the room. Everyone is minding their own business, students' eyes either glued to a computer screen or lost in a book. Yep. Miss Kwan definitely took over this class.

I go to my assigned computer, gleefully now that Rick isn't next to me, and log onto the desktop. I set down my backpack on his chair, like it'll magically keep him away, and log into my email address. Anything new from Marco? Alex even?

While none of the above have sent me anything, I do have plenty of emails from Miss Sauve and the Chicago detectives I just spoke with. Probably more information about my mom. I can't take this right now. I save these emails under a category I label "Ninety-Nine Problems". But a guy ain't one.

And just when I think I have enough on my plate to worry about, the last new email I've yet to open is from the kid himself: MURRAY, RICHARD, so the bar reads. Splendid. For a good twenty seconds I contemplate on whether I should open the email now or later. Then I make my decision: let's get the boy drama out of the way so I can focus on the murder mystery novel that's currently my life.

The subject line reads, "Hi Vivian". He sent the email at 9:30 this morning. Is he hoping that I read it in MI? Good night! Finally I click on Rick's email, and here's what it says:

I want you to know that I haven't stopped thinking about the awful way I treated you Tuesday night. I was completely out of line for disrespecting your wishes, invading your personal space, and putting my hands on you without your consent, which is, under no circumstances, okay. You're an amazing, bright, beautiful, sweet girl, and I took that for granted. I don't expect you to forgive me, to be my boyfriend, or even my friend. Heck I don't even expect you to respond to this email. I just want you to know that I am so deeply sorry for the pain I caused you. You have been one of my closest, dearest friends in this school, one of the few reasons why I was so willing to tolerate Degrassi. You deserve someone so much better than me, and I hope that the rest of your time here runs smoothly. Hopefully I haven't scared you off completely.

I also want to apologize for the way I guilted you into sex. That was the most shameful, disrespectful thing that I have ever done to you, especially after you confided in me about a similar situation prior to ours. Most of all, I am sorry that, through it all, I behaved like I was the one that was suffering when it was really you who was.

I don't blame you if you want to switch seats away from me in our Media immersion class. I can tell that you don't want to be near me after Tuesday. I'll do whatever I can to make sure I no longer jeopardize your experience at Degrassi.

Know that I still care about you, that I still love you, and for this reason I am going to give you the space you need. I wish you the best, Vivian. You deserve no less.

With all due respect (quite literally),

-Rick

I read the note with one fist covering my mouth, my elbow resting on the desk. By golly, this boy writes like he's thirty years old from the Victorian time period! Well he is mature for his age. For a brief second I'm awed by his advanced vocabulary and moved by his flowery language—until I recall what he did that afternoon. And then there's the lovely treasure I stumbled across in the attic after I put away mom's criminal records.

I look to my left and right, making sure that no one's around. Once I confirm that everyone around me is preoccupied with their own stuff, I reach into my backpack and pull out that photograph.

**Flashback**

I take a deep breath and exhale before gathering up the photos and stuffing the disturbing criminal records back in the manila envelope. In my haste, something falls out of the pile and onto the floor in front of me: a photograph.

"What's this?" I reach for the frame sized picture and get a good look at it.

And I thought mom's expunged records were the most terrifying thing in that folder.

This is what I found in the attic, and what I rank the most disturbing thing in the entire trunk. It's a photo of Rick and I, or so it appears at a first glance. I. Jumped. Out. Of. My. Skin.

But no: It's been taken in the seventies. It's my mom (Veronica Libby) and Rick's dad (Adam Murray). They're together together, all dressed up in prom attire. They're doing the standard couple pose: sides faced to camera; guy behind the girl, hands on her hips.

Adam is wearing a light, powder blue suit with a cerulean colored tie. My mom's slim-fitting dress matches the color of his tie, and the sleeveless shoulders are puffy and frilly. Her black hair has been blow-dried out, all piled up in a large, honey bun. The toe of her white heels can be made out, delivering a beautiful contrast to her ebony skin. The pair appear to be standing on a stage as the backdrop of the picture consists of thick, blood-red curtains. Adam's hair is long, thick, straight, and mouse brown. His glasses are far bigger than his current son's, and the rims are black and thick.

My heart's going to fly out of my chest: it's beating so fast. I don't know what's worse: that it looks like this could be RICK and ME, or the the fact that my mom and Rick's dad once knew each other. The back of the picture has their first and last names written in blue ink, the name of the school and the year it was taken also included. What in the world…?

No one mentioned anything about my mom knowing Rick's dad, not even Mr. Murray himself. Maybe l'm making this into a big deal, but these few exceptions make that impossible:

First: I know what type of man Rick's dad is! He abuses his wife AND his child! How could my mom ever date someone like him even if it was a long time ago?!

Second: Mr. Murray, that Tuesday afternoon, reacted to my mom's death like it was news to him! Shouldn't he have known by now that she's dead? That she's been dead for two years? How close were they that he didn't realize that Veronica's own kids were staring back at him that evening?

And third: The cherry on top of it all are those damn police reports. My mom and some other girls at the time were arrested for allegedly ganging up on a guy who was accused of beating his girlfriend. News articles suggest that this guy was Adam Murray. How could Rick's dad forget about one of the girls that jumped him that day? He should have known that my mom was dead for sure!

These thoughts have been haunting me for the last two days, and now that I know that my mom has been killed by someone else, I think I know who that killer is. Adam Murray.

Rick's dad killed my mom. My stomach starts to cramp, and I wrap my arms around my waist and rock back and forth, keeping myself from puking. The father of the very person I almost had sex with is the one. It makes sense, right? Wouldn't Adam want revenge on the person who accused him of abuse? Would that mean that he killed the other girls as well? Is Rick's dad a serial killer?

I guess I do have something to tell those detectives after all. I bury my face into my hands. I can't do that...however flawed Rick may be, he's still my friend, and Adam is still Rick's dad. I can't accuse my friend's dad of murder! And what if I'm wrong? What if the detectives already suspected him but found no lead? And as much as I would love to see that awful person, who's responsible for everything horrible that Rick is now, go down, I have to think of my friend first.

Besides there are so many holes in my logic. My family lived in the U.S. during the time. The Murrays are from Canada. Hmm...then again my mom has lived in America her entire short lived life (she was only forty-four when she was killed), so Mr. Murray might not be originally from Canada either. But still: his family was surely in Canada during the time of my mom's death. Did he schedule a special traveling trip just to kill mom? How could he have known where she lived? The more I try to rebuke Mr. Murray, the less likely it seems that he could've done it.

So...then what? Then who? I rub my face with my hands as I deliberate over my conclusion. I could always talk to the agents again. Mr. Murray is the only suspect I got. If it isn't him, then I don't know who would do such a horrible thing to my poor mother.

"Vivian?"

I freeze. It's like the beginning of the school year all over again. Back when I had a conversation with Rick for the first time.

A gentle hand rests against my back. "Are you okay?" The soft voice asks again, the owner of it none other than Rick himself.

Oh. He probably thinks I'm crying with my hands over my eyes and all. I slowly lift up my head. There's Rick to my left staring at me with wide brown eyes full of worry.

I nod my head. "Mm-hmm. I'm fine." I reply. "Just lost in thought." I smile at him. Don't need to tell him about my exciting morning after all.

"You sure?" He rubs my back.

"I'm confident." I affirm in my strongest voice. He hasn't lost his amazing ability to caress. I pretend like I don't notice his soft hand massaging my back.

He makes a weird face at me like I'm acting weird. (Spot on, pal). He smiles anyway. "If you say so."

"By the way, Rick," I lean back in my chair and nod towards my computer screen, "I was just reading this email I got this morning."

Rick's expression becomes fearful now. He slowly leans in to look at my screen (he won't take his hand off my back!), then he looks back at me.

"I mean every word of it." He says softly, staring right into me. "Vivian, please know that I'm so sorry." He reaches for my face with his knuckles and brushes my cheek in gentle, rhythmic strokes. "I regret it every second from the moment you couldn't breathe that night."

I nod, staring back just as intensely. "I know. Rick."

"C'mere." He whispers, and he pulls my chair close to his. Our faces are a mere few inches apart. "I love you." He continues to whisper. "And I shouldn't have made you feel guilty about not saying it back." He puts his hand on my cheek. "I can't get enough of you."

I nod again. "Thank you." I reply, slowly removing his hand with the both of mine. "And thanks for the email."

Rick sighs. "How long will it be until I earn your trust back?"

I pause, not peeling my eyes away from his. "I...I don't know." I answer. "Please try not think about me. You have so much going for you right now. How's Whack-Your-Brain coming along?"

"Excellent." He replies immediately. "Our new teammate compensates tremendously for what Heather Sinclair couldn't do." We both laugh at this.

"Who is the new guy? Or girl?"

"Jimmy Brooks." He replies.

"Oh." I widen my eyes. His tone of voice when he said Jimmy's name...he didn't sound irritated or frustrated. In fact, he seems happy about it! "Is he…"

"He's a good asset. And a good team player at that." Rick's smiling at this.

"So are you guys...friends now?"

Rick shrugs. "It's possible for people to change, you know."

I squint at him. Passive aggressive much? "Really? I had no idea." I whip out my sarcasm.

"Vivian." Rick begins.

"It was a simple question. No need to be a smart alec with me." I reply.

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Yes you did." Our voices are soft and calm, but I can detect the icy tone in...in my voice at least.

"Okay then. Yes. I think Jimmy will make a good friend in the future." Rick adjusts his glasses. "Vivian, please. I'm not trying to argue with you."

I sigh. "I know, I know." I run a hand through the bun in my hair.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Don't worry about me." I reply immediately. "It's...it's complicated."

"I told you before, Vivian: I know complicated."

"Yeah well not like this." I retort. "Something else came up this morning. I'd rather not say what."

Rick sighs as Emma walks over to his station. "Hey, let's meet up for lunch to review more." She tells him.

He looks up at her and smiles. "Sounds good."

"Great." Emma replies. "Toby and I will meet you after class." She glances over at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah it's nothing." I reply, though it's not much of an answer.

"Okay." She says. "Just a little bit of reviewing." she faces Rick again. "Don't wanna over do anything before tomorrow."

"Yeah. You're right." He says to her. "Umm, I'll meet you at the entrance of the cafeteria?"

"Toby and I will grab a table." Emma replies. "See you then." She walks away.

I can see a smile on Rick's face when he turns around to face me. I cross my arms, smirking. "My, haven't we moved on so quickly." I say.

Rick's eyes widen behind his glasses. "Vivian, we're studying."

"Whatever you keep telling yourself." I reply.

"Why are you treating me this way? I'm trying to make this right." Rick tells me.

"Rick," I start, but pause soon after. "You're right. I'm sorry. Listen I'm a little distracted these days, and it has nothing to do with you. Like I said something came up." I stare at him. "Family drama. I know you're familiar with that."

"I see." He replies. He glances down at my spot and notices the photograph I have. "Hey. What's that?"

Crap! "Nothing." I place my hand over it.

He looks at me, frowning. "You're right. You are distracted these days. If you ask me, distant is the correct word."

"Well I didn't ask you." I say. "Besides, what did you expect? You think that all there is to it is say sorry, then, poof, I'm not supposed to be mad at you anymore?"

Rick huffs, like he's taken aback. "Well if I'm bothering you with trying to be the bigger person, how about I leave you alone?"

"Hey, who's stopping you?" I raise my voice. "Go over to your number three!"

I realize what I said a second too late. My mouth is hanging open while Rick's orbs for eyes grow wide. Then, hanging his head low, he quickly, but quietly, leaves his seat, walking towards a table by himself.

I stare at him for a few seconds before tearing my eyes away. I hate fighting. Doesn't matter what I did or what he did. Someone always ends up getting hurt in the end. How could he say that he cares about me when he has that stupid list? He doesn't even have the decency to say that was wrong to do! Not to mention creepy!

I stiffen in my seat as the bell rings. I just called Rick a creep. Rick: my friend. Despite his problem, he has been there for me when I needed him. Rick: the one that Ivory warned me about. With his kind, gentle nature was able to lure in his next victim: the naive, new girl. The person who endured harassment from his classmates who knew what he was before just to prove that he still is abusive. The guy who saved me from drowning. The one who "punished" me for not having sex with him. The kid who's potentially following in his father's footsteps. The son whose mother's compassion he possesses.

Which one did I call the creep? Until I know the answer, I refuse to hang out with him anymore.

"Vivian. Rick. See me at the back tables after class." Miss Kwan instructs.

Oh I forgot. We broke Miss Kwan's golden rule: no talking in class. Now we have to get scolded at like first graders for the next five minutes.*

I understand that the CSI/Criminal Minds tangent of the story may be a little cliche, but I hope you're still interested in how I'll unravel everything in the story! There's still more to come!