After dinner, up in Derek's room (the looks Nora and George shot him did not go unnoticed by the blonde, who thanked them for the dinner and made a quick retreat) Alan was busy setting up his laptop.
Derek was busy downstairs worming his way out of kitchen duty.
He heard the creak of the floorboards and looked up, seeing Casey in the doorway. She walked in, sitting across from him on Derek's bed.
"Let's get to the point," Casey said, "Seriously, Alan, what's going on here?"
"You'll have to talk to Derek about that, Casey."
Casey frowned, and tried her hand at reverse psychology. "So what, Derek controls who you talk to?"
Alan sighed, setting the laptop next to him. "Casey, you'll have to talk to Derek."
"Fine. But can I ask you one thing?"
"Maybe. Shoot."
"Are you two dating?"
Alan laughed, and shook his head. "Yeah, right. You must be blind, Casey."
She opened her mouth, fully intending to ask him what he meant by that, when Derek appeared.
"Yo, Spacey. Out." Casey scowled and tossed Alan a final look before she left. She wasn't giving up.
Derek shut the door.
"Casey's onto you, you know."
Derek's lips set into a firm line. "I'm not getting her involved. I'm not getting anyone else involved."
"Mm-hmm." Alan said, a small smirk playing on his lips. Oh, the boy was whipped.
"Stop looking at me like that," Derek snapped.
Alan redirected his attention to his computer, pulling up the GrimmSin website. "This is what I found. But as I click Enter," he clicked the link, hearing his computer make the familiar whine, "My computer shuts down."
"What's the point of having a website if no one can access it?"
"I think he's going to let us access it eventually. But it's his way of letting us know he has the upper hand."
"So basically, you're at a dead end."
"Yep. We have to wait until he gives us another clue."
"What do buzzing insects imply?" Derek wondered aloud.
"Why? Is that what you heard?"
Derek nodded.
"I'm not sure. Maybe nothing," the boy responded, David's face flashing in his mind again. Decomposition, he thought, but chose to keep it to himself.
Still, he thought, the information could be useful. He couldn't do anything about the calls, but monitoring Derek's computer was something he could do. Whether or not it would be detected was the part he needed to figure out, but he'd think of something.
"Meet me after school tomorrow. I'll bring some things by to get things started on backing up the activity on your computer. I'll be able to access it with mine, too."
The brunette appeared somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of being watched.
"I promise I won't check out what porn sites you go on," he clarified dryly, "I doubt any of it would interest me."
"Thanks," came the sarcastic response, "I feel much better."
"Anytime," Alan remarked, shutting the laptop down, "I'm heading out. Can't overstay my welcome and all."
The comment made Derek's eyes shift away guiltily, though he didn't say anything.
"Don't worry about it," the blonde said, "It's not a big deal." He stood up, putting his backpack on one shoulder, "See ya, princess."
He rolled his eyes, giving him a mock salute as a farewell, following him down partway to see him out.
Unbeknownst to him, George was peeking out the kitchen entry for the boy's exit, swooping down at the chance of a lecture before his son could leave.
"Alan Wright?" George said, shaking his head. "Alan Wright?"
"It's not a big deal, you know," Derek said defensively, knowing full well it was.
Nora came into the room, her expression of worry complementing George's disappointment. "I don't want him coming over here again," she said, "I've heard of the…history he has."
"That wasn't his fault," he snapped, "he was the one attacked."
His father regarded him with a sigh, "Of course it wasn't, nothing justifies that. I'm guessing he hasn't told you of his record, then."
"What are you talking about?"
"Two years ago he was arrested for blackmailing a man he believed was following his sister. Turns out he had a bank account that his mother regularly put money into because he was the father of his sister. He figured this guy was bad news, he wasn't paying child support and forcing his mother to pay him to keep quiet. He lost everything in a span of a few days. His job, his savings, his house."
"So?" Derek muttered, he would have done the same for Marti.
"His mother was the one paying him because she wanted another child and Alan's father didn't. He wanted a divorce. She had the child in order to keep him around. Both children ended up removed from the home and sent elsewhere."
It wasn't like he meant to do that. It was a mistake, Derek thought, but knew arguing was futile.
"Frankly, he got a lighter sentence than the circumstances called for, but the odds were in his favor that day," his father continued, "He ruined a lot of people's lives."
"How do you even know this?" he countered.
"I'm a legal aid lawyer, Derek," his father sighed, "The man had nothing to his name at that point. It was a pro bono case. We managed to recover the money that was actually his and some of his things, but he ended up serving time for credit card fraud and identity theft that was discovered during the investigation."
"Then he got what he deserved," responded the boy, looking more and more defensive by the moment.
"I don't think he was the one who committed it," George said pointedly, "I think he was framed. But I couldn't prove it."
So that was what he was unhappy about. He lost, and Alan got off too easy in his opinion.
"Whatever," Derek muttered, "I'm going to my room now."
He couldn't deny the unease slowly sinking into his thoughts when he began remembering the events of the last few days.
What if it was Alan who was culprit? He was the one who seemed to know everything about what he was dealing with. He never saw the pictures Alan claimed had appeared on his computer.
And worse, it made sense for Alan to target him. He was part of the hockey team, and Alan's opposite in every form.
Derek trudged up the stairs, sighing when he reached his room. Things seemed to only get worse every day.
Having been lost in his thoughts caused some obliviousness toward his surroundings. Right on cue with his last melancholy thought, he saw Casey sitting on his bed again, the same place she had been when Alan was there.
"Casey, just go, I'm not in the mood to deal with your sad attempts at getting information out of me," he said roughly, suddenly aware of the exhaustion he felt at the premise of having to deal with another fight.
"Oh, it's not that," she said, her voice sounding strained, like she was holding back hysterics, "I just got a call from Amy's mother asking me if I knew where she was. She didn't show up for school today and her parents didn't see her last night because they got home late."
Derek paled. He hadn't seen her at school, but it wasn't like he was paying attention.
"Then I checked your phone to see if there were any text messages from her and I found…" her voice trailed off, "And with everything you and Alan were talking about, I just have this feeling, this really, really bad feeling, Derek."
"What's going on?" She asked finally, "Are you in trouble? Did something happen last night?"
"Look, Casey, it'll be fine. She probably skipped class this morning and she'll get back late. Don't worry, all right?"
He really, really hoped that was what it was. Casey watched him for a few moments, seeing the hesitation in his eyes, the tension in his neck, and she knew it wasn't because she had snooped around. He was worried, really worried, about something.
A determined expression grew on her face. "You have to tell me what's wrong, Derek. And don't think you can lie."
"I am not getting you involved. It's none of your business anyway."
Casey stood up, walking closer to him, so close he could feel her body heat hum against the few inches of distance between them. "I'm not leaving until you tell me, Derek, because if it was me, you wouldn't either," she said softly, something so uncharacteristically Casey.
He knew she was right. No matter the amount of time they spent fighting, the pranks he pulled and the annoying lectures she recited, no matter how much it seemed like he didn't care about her or she didn't care about him, there was enough evidence to the contrary to prove that Casey would fight for him when he needed it.
And enough evidence to show he did the same. But they always did it in their roundabout, backhanded way, buried beneath annoyance and sharply-worded comments.
Not like this. Not so honestly. It felt wrong and terrifying and wonderful all at the same time and having her so close was making him think things he shouldn't so he stepped back, pulled away, took the chair in the corner as a shoddy defense against the thoughts in his head and the impulses racing through his body.
She watched him, one hand on her hip, interpreting his move as a lapse into the silent treatment. "I'm not—"
"I know," Derek interjected, rolling his eyes, trying to put the pieces of his pretense back together, "Just sit. I'll tell you."
Casey shut the door quietly, returning to her spot on his bed, head resting on her arms, elbows propped up against her legs, leaning in as far as she could.
"You have to promise to keep this a secret."
"I promise," she said, smiling smugly, pleased to have gotten her way.
He told her, in hushed whispers, everything he could, the phone calls, the texts, the website, why Alan was part it all, the messages he had gotten on his computer (he left out the details regarding the images—he didn't think she needed those images in her head).
Derek could see her mulling it all over, trying to figure out how the pieces fit, wanting so desperately to come up with something.
"Casey, you can't let this get to you. You have to stay out of it."
She looked up, a glare fixing on his face, "I can help. I know I can, I might not be like Alan but—"
"I said no," he snapped, hands curling, "Damn it, Case, what part of that don't you understand?"
"Oh please, you think I'm useless because I'm neurotic, right?" she snapped, "Because I can't hide my feelings like you do all the time?"
He rose to his feet, placing one hand on either side of her shoulder, regarding her with a hard stare, "It isn't about that. You are neurotic and blow everything out of proportion, and you get hysterical when you miss one assignment, trust me, I'm not denying any of that, but this isn't about those things."
Her blue eyes met his, a defiant stare clashing with the soft tone of her voice, "What is it about, then?"
Derek dropped his hands from her from, crossing them. "Alan has it handled, you would…look, there's just not much you can do, so just leave it alone, all right? I don't want to deal with your whining in the middle of the night because you start getting weird texts about, I dunno, whatever it is you'd get."
She rolled her eyes. It was a sloppy cover, that much he knew, but judging by the slump of her shoulders, it seemed to do the trick.
"Fine, Derek," Casey muttered, her concern not eased in the slightest. But she went along with the game because he started it, "It's probably just someone you pissed off anyway."
Derek shrugged, realizing he'd forgotten to mention Alan's suggestion that it wasn't a student at school. "Well, there's the door, I've had enough interaction with your lameness for one night."
"I've had all I can take with the smell of your socks anyway," she said coolly, brushing past him and leaving without another word.
He sighed, and leaned back on his bed.
Would he regret telling Casey? Would she keep her promise? He wouldn't admit it even under the threat of his most treasured hockey card, but it had felt…nice, to tell to truth, for once.
Or part of it, at least. He had left out one thing intentionally: what George had told him about Alan. That issue he would figure out for himself.