"Who the fuck are you? Hey! I asked you a question! Are you deaf or something? Who sent you?"
The green-eyed monster of a boy continues to yell are her, but all Buttercup can hear is her rapid heartbeat and the word SHIT repeated over and over in her head.
SHIT. SHIT. SHIT!
The boy suddenly stops his yelling, switching tactics to simply glaring at her. His eyebrow twitches, although it's hard to tell if it was intentional or not. This boy seems a bit unhinged, to say the least, which really does not do her any good. One wrong move and this guy could easily snap her neck.
"Um…I…uh…" Buttercup stutters. Shit! She can't believe she didn't have a lie ready for this exact situation. AUGH! What the hell was she thinking!
The boy's eyebrow twitches higher in confusion—or irritation, she imagines. He doesn't have soft features, everything from his thick neck, prominent brows, and square jaw are sharp and dangerous-looking, but in a split second his mean features relax into something, not quite soft, but definitely less murdery than before. He looks her up and down, his brow still up in confusion. She doesn't appreciate the ogling, but now that this bull is no longer seeing red, she's able to calm down enough to come up with a plan to get herself out of this mess.
"You're not who I think you are, are ya'?" He questions, his voice is gruff and mocking. Considering the situation, Buttercup should feel relieved, but instead, she feels annoyed and insulted. Of course, this guy wouldn't see her as a threat. She's half his size in both height and body weight. She's no threat to him. Pfft, if only he knew.
"Depends. Who do you think I am?" Buttercup bits back, trying to sound as intimidating as him.
The boy snorts and rolls his eyes, her "mean" voice having no effect on him. "What the hell are you even doing here?" The boy asks, crossing his arms. "Are you lost?" He asks with a smirk.
"No." Buttercup hisses, annoyed. "I was looking for parts. I didn't know the car belonged to anyone." She lies. "This is a junkyard, you know."
"Car parts?" His brows hitch higher in surprise. "What a girl like you want with car parts?"
A girl like me? What the hell is that suppose to mean?
"None of your business." Buttercup spits, finally getting up from the ground. "Whatever, I'm leaving."
She says, ready to get the hell out of doge.
"Whoa, bonita, you're wrong. It is my business." He says, grabbing her arm before she can bolt.
"What the hell! Let go of me!" Buttercup yells, trying not to seem scared, except his grip is very very strong.
"Not until you give me that phone."
"What do you want with my phone?" Buttercup clutches her phone to her chest.
"You took photos of my car. I need you to get rid of them. I'm hiding out, and I can't let anyone know I was here."
"How do you know I won't tell anyone?" Fuck, she probably shouldn't have said that. Stupid! Take Blossom's advice for once, and think before you speak! Your fucking life depends on it!
His grip tightens. Buttercup tries not to wince, biting her lip to keep from yelling out. "You better not." He threatens. He looks intensely into her eyes before looking away to roam her face. She's not sure what he sees, but it's uncomfortable either way. "You don't even know who I am, do you?" He snorts.
The fuck I do, she thinks. I know exactly who you are. You're the asshole who killed that innocent man. And I'm taking you down.
Buttercup is not too proud to admit that she's fucking scared right now. More scared than she's ever been. She thinks she's doing a good job of masking some of that fear, and even though she really really wants to be anywhere but here right now, she's not giving up that phone. Those photos are the only evidence she has and she's not giving them up.
"Give me the phone." He demands.
"Let go of my arm first."
"Not. Gonna. Happen." He growls.
"Fine," Buttercup says, sounding suspiciously calm. "I'll erase the pictures and you can check my phone afterward."
"Then I'll let go." He agrees.
Buttercup pulls out her phone and presses a few buttons. Then in a literal flash of genius, she points her phone right in the boy's face and takes a picture. The flash she purposely turned on her phone momentarily blinds the boy making him yell out and let go of her arm.
She bolts the second he lets go. Instead of heading to the main gate, she sprints straight ahead, right for the fence. She reaches the fence and starts climbing. Just when she's reached the top, she looks down to see the very large and very angry boy having caught up with her. She jumps, not bothering to climb down. She's not even a street away when the boy has already jumped the fence.
"Get the fuck back here!" He yells, chasing after her.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK!
She kicks it up a notch, running at the speed she usually reserves for track competitions. She turns down some random streets and alleyways, trying to lose him.
It doesn't take long before she's lost all sight of him. Still, she can't be too careful. She stops by a dark alleyway, taking another detour, and runs up to an old abandoned-looking building. She climbs up the fire escape heading to the roof. Once she's reached the roof, she crouches down and looks over the ledge. In the distance, she sees the boy still running after her. He looks around, lost, irritated, and looking as angry as a charging bull. He turns down the wrong street and is gone from sight.
Buttercup lets out a sigh of relief.
The guy is strong she'll give him that, but Buttercup has yet to find someone that is faster than her. She lies down, flat against the roof to keep hidden from view. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself and her racing heart. The sun above her is harsh and scorching against her skin. Despite the discomfort, Buttercup will have to bear it. She doesn't want to risk running into that angry psycho again, so she's going to camp out on this rooftop for a while. Lucky for her, her sisters have things to do after school, so no one will know that she isn't home.
God, is she spent. She feels like that night in the Rot, when she made the impossible jump. She felt scared shitless. She thought she was going to die but man… that feeling, that rush—that's worth the weakness and nausea she felt after. It was even worth Mitch being upset at her. She knows it's a little odd, maybe even a little crazy, but there's something about the danger—about thinking that you're going to die that just makes you feel so…alive. Alive in a way that's even more surreal and exciting than any game or competition. Nothing beats that rush.
She didn't think she'd ever feel that way again. But now…fuck was that awesome! Crazy, stupid, dangerous but oh so fucking cool! She feels so pumped right now. Though, as she lays here, the sun baking her face, the rooftop hot against her back and the dry, hot air making it harder to breathe, the adrenaline slowly starts to slip out of her system making her muscles ache. Her body is hot and cold at the same time, clammy and shaky. She wants to throw up. She wants to scream.
Still…
She stares at her phone. She looks at the picture she took of the murderous boy. His eyes are big and opened wide in shock. He looks innocent then, not like the hulking man she was afraid was going to kill her in cold blood. This angry bull that chased her down five blocks. Damn, it's so stupid what she did, confronting him—alone. She's never been more scared. Still, as she stares at his photo, thinking about the incredibly stupid and dangerous (yet fucking AWESOME) thing she just did—thinking about the hard grip he had on her arm and the bruise he left— there's only one thing she feels like doing.
She laughs.
The Central Prep students don't come in anymore. It should be a great relief, and it is—for the most part. There is still one student that comes in regularly and while he may not be her least favorite customer (Princess holds that title), he is still one of Blossom's least favorite people. He is a Mercer, after all.
"You know if you keep making that face, it'll stay that way."
Blossom rolls her eyes at Darcy in a rare show of teenage defiance. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, really? So you're not glaring daggers at an innocent customer?"
"Innocent? I think not." Blossom snorts, also rare for her.
"Yeah? And what he'd do to you?" Darcy asks, irritated.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, that boy has been coming in here for the past two weeks and each time you've given him the stink eye. Clearly, you don't like him, and I'd like to know why—what he'd do to you?"
"It's nothing personal. I mean he's never done anything to me. I don't even know him. I just don't trust him is all; besides, don't you think it's odd that's he's been coming in here every day for the last two weeks?"
"I swear, girl, that distaste of yours for local diners is going to get you fired. I thought we were passed the uppity attitude."
"I didn't mean it like that," Blossom explains. "I just don't get it." She huffs, "It's suspicious." She wipes down the table in harsh circles all the while continuing to glare at the redhead.
Darcy hums, "So that's it, is it?"
Blossom stops her wiping, "What?"
"You don't understand something and that's what's got your panties all in a twist."
"Don't be ridiculous, Darcy. That's not it. I told you. I don't trust him."
"The only reason you don't trust him is because you don't know him. His only sin is having the last name Mercer."
"Be that as it may, the name Mercer inherently has a lot of sins attached to it. " Blossom mumbles under her breath.
"Look, I only say this because you're stressed out enough as it is, but you should really let go of any ill will you have towards that boy. It's not like he's even spoken to you."
It's true, the Mercer boy, has come in nearly every day for the past two weeks and each time he's conveniently avoided sitting in any of her tables. Although suspicious, Blossom is quite grateful. The less interaction she has with him, the better. She has enough on her plate without adding conversing with criminals. Though she doubts he's ever been convicted of anything, it doesn't make him any less morally depraved.
"I hope it stays that way."
Darcy merely huffs before walking away to tend to her tables. "Actin' like he didn't do you a favor…getting that prissy girl off ya'…been a perfect gentleman…the nerve…"
Blossom continues to angrily wipe down the counter all the while staring violently at the back of Brick's head. One good act doesn't change her opinion of Brick in the slightest. For all she knows, Brick is interested in Princess and was just waiting for the most opportune time to talk to her. Him stepping in right before Princess hit her could have had an ulterior motive. Besides, Darcy wouldn't be so quick to stand up for the boy if she knew what Blossom knew. Then the older woman would understand her distrust for the redheaded Mercer.
"Blossom, sweetie, I need you to pay great attention to me right now."
"But I always pay attention, daddy."
"I know that Cherry Pie, I know you listen. I know you're a smart girl and more importantly, I know that you're a good girl, a really good girl, which is why I'm telling you this. If there's one thing I can teach you—"
"You teach me lots of things, daddy."
"I know, but I don't care if you forget all the other things I said. If you can only remember one lesson, let it be this—Never, I mean never, trust a Mercer—NEVER."
The bell dings bringing Blossom's attention away from dark thoughts and far away memories. A tall blond man walks in, his face instantly recognizable to Blossom.
"Michael?" She calls out in surprise.
A tall man in uniform turns around, startled at first before recognition clicks. "Blossom? It is Blossom, right?"
"Yes." Blossom blushes, "I should be saying officer."
Officer Wings waves her off, "No need to be so formal. Call me Mikey."
"Okay…Mikey. Um, can I get you anything?"
"Uh, that depends," He says, walking over and taking a seat at the counter, "You work here?"
Blossom's cheeks redden, "Yes, as unlikely as that may seem, I do, but it is only temporary. I'm just trying to save some money for school."
"I get it. Nothing to be ashamed of. I used to man the register in my Uncle's store back when I lived in Chicago, got to put food on the table somehow, you know? Anyway, I think it shows great character and responsibility, especially for someone so young. Most kids I know just want a part-time job so they can buy a new video game or something. So, that means you're a senior, right? Saving money for college, I'm guessing."
"Thanks." Blossom beams. "No, I'm a junior, but it's never too early to plan ahead."
"Smart." The officer smiles back and picks up a nearby menu. "So what's good here?"
"To be honest, everything. Louie—he's the cook—let's me leave with a few free dishes sometimes after work, so I've tried nearly everything on the menu. Haven't yet eaten something that didn't taste good."
"That's good to hear, might have to make this my regular lunch spot. Since I'm still on duty, I'll just have a club sandwich and coffee—black."
"Coming right up."
Blossom places the officer's order and grabs a fresh pot of freshly brewed coffee. As she pours Mikey his coffee, she can't help but bite her lip, worrying over to use the opportune time to bother the friendly cop, or just ignore it and let him enjoy his meal.
"Seems like you got something on your mind? I've got a penny if you're willing to share."
"It's nothing, well, it's…"Blossom sighs, "I don't know if it's appropriate to ask, really."
"Go ahead and ask, I'll let you know."
Blossom leans in and lowers her voice, "Have you heard anything?…I mean about that night, you know. Any new information?"
Mikey sighs, "I was afraid you were gonna ask that. Unfortunately, I really can't discuss police proceedings with civilians."
"Can't say I'm surprised by your answer. But aren't there exceptions? I mean, I am a witness."
"You are also a minor. If your Aunt was here, then maybe, but I can't. My hands are tied. Sorry."
"Club sandwich!" Louie yells out, taping the bell.
Blossom sighs "I understand. Thanks anyway." She serves Mikey his sandwich, "Enjoy."
Mikey nods his head in both sympathy and thanks. "Don't worry Blossom; I promise I'll catch the scumbags that did this. You count on that."
Blossom gives him a half smile, before walking away to tend to her tables. She doesn't know what she expected. Okay, no, she knew exactly what she expected, and that was for justice to prevail so she could go back to feeling like she lived in a safe city.
Not that she wasn't aware of the growing crime problem in her hometown before, but it never occurred to her how severe the problem was until it happened to her. Now, it's all she can think of, on top of the other hundreds of things she has to worry about.
What if it were one of her sisters that night? What if they were the ones getting mugged? It could have been so much worse for them. Buttercup, so reckless, would have fought back or said something that made everything worse. She could have been beaten to within an inch of her life, her teeth bashed in, her ribs broken. What if no one was around to help? What would happen to Buttercup? And what about Bubbles? Sweet and innocent Bubbles. She's so pretty. She shudders to think what those gangsters would have done to her.
She fears for her safety but more so for the safety of her sisters. Blossom may have an analytical way of looking at things, but it honestly never occurred to her that catching the bad guys would be so difficult. She was there that night, she saw them. They were so close. How could they not be behind bars right now? What could be taking the police so long?
She's just finishing cleaning a table, lost in thought, when a hand reaches out and grabs her arm, startling her.
"Ow! What… What are you doing? Let—"
"May I have a refill?" The redheaded Mercer, Brick, asks. His tone sharp and neutral.
"No need to break my arm for a glass of ice tea. You should ask Darcy; she is your waitress." Blossom hisses, breaking away from his cold grip.
"Apologizes if I startled you. It's not my fault you were daydreaming on the job."
"I wasn't—"
"Secondly, Darcy isn't here and I'm quite parched, so if you wouldn't mind…" He says holding up his empty glass.
"She must be taking her break." She mumbles. Brick looks at her expectantly, not caring to hear a reason only waiting for her to fulfill his request. Blossom groans, unpleased and pissed off, but does as asked. He is a customer after all. She'll be damned if she lets him be the reason she gets fired. She returns with a pitcher of ice tea and starts pouring when she's suddenly interrupted by his arrogant voice once more.
"Are you aware of the freedom of information act?"
Blossom is momentarily stunned by the odd question, "Uh…"
"It gives people the right to request information from federal, state and local agencies, like for instance the police."
Blossom frowns, angered by the implication that she wouldn't know what that is and the obvious reference to her conversation with Officer Michael. "I'm aware of the freedom of information act, there are exceptions, however, especially given my age, and, secondly," she says, mimicking his words from earlier, "I don't appreciate you eavesdropping on my conversations."
"You look like you needed the help, is all." He says in a condescending voice, throwing a glance at her shaking hands.
"Well, I don't. Especially not from you."
Brick merely hums as she walks away, trying to stop the shaking in her hands. It's not a panic attack, that guy just makes her so…Augh! What an arrogant…so condescending…he's just so…and who is he to…I mean the nerve! Whoa, Blossom, breath! It's okay. He's not even worth it. Think calming thoughts.
"You okay?" Mikey asks, "You look like you're about to knock someone's block off."
Blossom huffs, "I'm fine. Just a rude custo—"
"Hello, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Rick." Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. The redheaded Mercer introduces himself, shaking hands with Mikey and giving her a knowing glance, to which Blossom can only reciprocate with a dumbfounded look. What the hell does he think he's doing?
"I'm the senior editor of our newspaper, THS Gazette." The redhead goes on to explain, only confusing Blossom further.
"Our?" Mikey questions, looking between Rick and herself, "THS Gazette?"
"The Townsville high school newspaper. Blossom and I are both members. She was telling me about this interesting crime story, one you're well aware of, but of course, being the senior editor, I can't print anything without evidence, which is why I wanted to speak with you personally."
"I didn't know you were writing a story about this? Is your aunt okay with that?" Mikey asks her.
Blossom can only look on in confused horror, her mouth handing ridiculously open. "Uhh…no, this…he's…"
"Her aunt wasn't okay with it at first, but Blossom is a firm believer in the truth and stories like these are important for not only notifying the younger public of the dangers of this city, but also informing them on how to better protect themselves. We were planning on doing a whole segment on safety to go along with the article."
"Hey! That's good journalism, seems like something I'd enjoy reading, but, unfortunately, as I've already told Blossom, I'm not at liberty to share any case details, sorry."
"I'm aware. Blossom was just telling me that. Right, Blossom?" He says, giving her cheeky grin.
Blossom glares at him, "I didn—"
"Right." Brick states, "Anyway, that's why I'm invoking the freedom of information act."
"Smart kid." Mikey grins, "Media uses that on us all the times, but I still can't tell you anything. You are minors and without an adult present I can't—"
"I'm eighteen, actually." Brick states, "So, there is a legal adult present. Besides, I know I as well as Blossom are dying to know more." Brick gives her a pointed look.
Blossom continues to glare at him. This is her chance, to denounce everything he's saying. Brick is giving her a chance to tell the truth that this whole thing is just some crazy lie he came up with for God knows why. But she hesitates. She doesn't agree with what Brick is doing, doesn't want or need his deranged idea of help, but…she has to know.
Has to know.
It's been two months, three weeks, and four days since the incident and she has learned nothing about the progress of this case. She knows the police are busy with other cases, but it's been two months, three weeks, and four days! That's nearly three months! Why hasn't there been any new developments? How hard is it to catch these guys? They are a notorious gang; surely there are other charges on them, shouldn't that be enough to bring them in?
She can't take it anymore. Waiting around and trying to pretend this doesn't bother her is not working. She thinks about it constantly and at the most inopportune times. While she works, during a test, whiles she's studying— when she's doing laundry! Her focus and energy are already divided as is; she can't afford to have this weighing on her. She just can't!
Her frown disappears as she shifts her gaze from Brick to Officer Michael. "It's true. I—we, would really appreciate any information you can give us. Please." She pleads in a soft voice.
Officer Michael looks between the two, before wiping his mouth with a piece of napkin. He lowers his voice, "Alright. But if anyone asks, you didn't hear anything from me. Got it?"
Both redheads nod.
"The sad truth is the case has been ruled a dead end. Not officially, mind you, but police involvement and resources for this particular case have been allocated elsewhere. I guess you can say the investigation has been shelved—for the time being. Although, most guys on the force have already ruled it away. That's what happens with cases like this. It's just seen as another gang-related incident. At best, we can jail a few members for a time, at worst, no one comes forward, or identities are protected."
Blossom sighs, disappointed, "Really? Why? There were plenty of witnesses and the evidence is obvious." She states referring to both herself and the injured victim.
"Are the perpetrator's identity what's stalling the investigation?" Brick asks, staying in character as an investigative reporter.
The officer scoffs, "Please, their identities are the least of my worries. Maybe with other, bigger, gangs, that's an issue, but the Gang Green Gang are pretty notorious and membership is exclusive. We know exactly who these guys are."
"Gang Green Gang?" Brick asks surprised.
"Yeah, didn't Blossom tell you that?"
"Yes, she did. I guess, I just didn't believe her. I needed confirmation." Brick lies smoothly.
"I don't understand, if you know who they are, then why haven't you gone after them? Are they underground or something? Are they in hiding?" Blossom asks, a hint of nervousness and agitation in her voice.
"We can't pursue without cause, and unfortunately you didn't get a good enough look at them. My captain has ruled against pursuing this case with such weak witness testimonials."
"But what about the man? Jack...Martin, wasn't it? Isn't his testimonial enough?"
Officer Michael gives her a weird look, confused. "What?"
"You know, Jack Martin, that's his name, right? The man had front row seat to the men that assaulted him. I'm sure his word is more than enough to convict."
"Yes, I know who he is, but—don't you know?"
"Know what?"
"When he woke up we went to speak with him, but he stated that he didn't remember anything. The doctors said he was hurt pretty bad, so memory loss was expected. We gave him the descriptions you provided, but ultimately he decided not to press charges on the count of his lack of recall. Didn't your aunt tell you this?"
"My Aunt? Why would she know about this?"
"Oh boy," Mikey mumbles, "Okay…" he says awkwardly, standing up, "I think, I've officially over shared. You need to talk to your aunt." He says pointing at Blossom. "And you." He says pointing at Brick, "Be careful what you print. I was never here." He places a few bills on the counter and strides out the diner quicker than Blossom can put her thoughts together, leaving her with more questions that she initially had.
Her aunt? Why would her aunt know anything about this? Officer Michael, was pretty adamant that any information be shared in the presence of an adult. Maybe he had already mentioned this to her aunt. But that doesn't make sense. Her aunt hadn't said anything, and she certainly didn't act like she knew about any of this. Maybe Mikey is confused. Aunt Bellum won't lie about this. Would she?
"It's not a strange notion, you know." Brick states.
"What?"
"For those closest to you to lie. If you're debating whether your aunt could lie about this to you, then let me save you the trouble because she could and she would. In all likely hood, she already has."
"You don't know anything about my family and frankly, I don't care to hear any more of your unsolicited advice."
Brick's normally neutral features are distorted by a frown before quickly becoming emotionless once more. "I assumed the appropriate response to someone helping you out was to give thanks. Instead of this nasty attitude."
"Well, you know what they say about people who assume. Now, if there isn't anything else I can do for you, I'm going to back to work."
She turns around and walks away, busying herself with wiping down tables. She doesn't turn back around until she hears retreating footsteps and the ding of the door. She steps back behind the counter and spots the cash he left on the counter alongside a note.
Make an ass out of U and Me. It's a two-way street.
Blossom crumples up the note in frustration. As if she didn't have enough things to worry and stress over, this asinine rich kid finds it a great waste of her time to play mind games on her. Now on top all the questions she has over the case and her aunt, she's going to be losing precious sleep trying to figure out just what the hell this Brick guy wants from her.
Actually, now that she thinks about it, why did he help her out? Again. And how did he even know which school she went to? Arugh! If she hadn't been so hasty to ignore him, she could have grilled him for answers. She'll just have to wait until tomorrow, she supposes, to get answers out of him. Not that the idea of talking to him makes her feel any better.
"Never, I mean never, trust a Mercer—NEVER."
Sigh, Could her life get any more difficult?
"Hi, Blossom! You're home early." Greets Bubbles, cheerfully.
"Yeah," Blossom answers in greeting, taking off her cardigan and placing it near the front entrance. "I've decided to cut back some hours at the diner. I don't want my grades to start slipping. Oh—hi. Sorry, I didn't see you there." Blossom says to the petite girl sitting next to her little sister.
"I get that a lot. Perils of being small, I guess. Name's Julie. Julie Smith."
"Julie Smith." Blossom mumbles "That sounds familiar."
"That doesn't surprise me."
"Blossom, Julie is in some of your AP classes. History and Chemistry, right?"
"Yeah. I'm in Calculus too, just not in the same class."
"Sure. I recognize you now. Hi. Um, I'll just let you get to it then." Blossom says, referring to all the books and materials spread out between the two blonds.
"Actually, I was about to leave," Julie says, closing her notebook.
"You're free to stay." Blossom insists. "Don't leave on my account."
"No, it's cool. I know your aunt is coming over and as much as I love Bubbles family dinners are not my thing."
"Aunt Bellum is coming over?" Blossom asks with panic.
"Yup." Bubbles nods her head. "She called me just before you came. She should be here in a few minutes."
"Which is why I must go. I'll see you later Bubs."
"Bye Julie." Bubbles waves as her little blond friend walks out the front door. "Isn't she great! I can't believe we've never spoken to her before. Did you know she lives just across the street? Like, how have we not noticed her? I get why I may have never spoken to her seeing as she's so smart and in all the advanced classes and in none of my classes, but you should have known better." Bubbles teases. "Hey, now that you guys have been properly introduced you can start hanging out. She can even be like your study buddy. Wouldn't that be great!"
Blossom looks out the front window on the lookout for her aunt's car. She passively listens to Bubbles chatter when she sees that her sister is, in fact, right, Julie Smith happens to live just across from them, which is weird because she always thought an elderly widow use to live there. How out of touch is she that she didn't realize new neighbors had moved in? Before she can ponder that line of thought further her aunt's headlights catch her attention as the older woman pulls into the driveway.
Blossom lets out a groan.
"What's wrong, Blossom?" Bubbles asks innocently tilting her head to the side. "You don't like Julie?"
"Oh no. She seems nice. I just wasn't expecting Aunt Bellum tonight."
Bubbles frowns slightly, "Are you mad at her or something?"
Blossom lets out a sigh, "No." Yes. "I just don't like last minute plans is all. I wanted to get some studying done and maybe a load of laundry."
Bubbles hugs her from behind, laying her head on her should, "Oh, cheer up, cherry pie! One little night away from studying is not gonna hurt your grades—you're way too smart for that." She taps Blossom's head, "Besides, we've got enough clean clothes. We should be good for another week, or I could do the laundry if you want. I promise I won't mix the colors and whites this time."
Blossom lets out a small chuckle, "That's a nice offer Bubbles, but unnecessary. I just want some clean uniforms for work. But I guess you're right, maybe, one night without studying won't be the end of the world."
"Well, hell just froze over. I don't think I've ever heard you say that." Mutters a messy-haired Buttercup as she descends the stairs, clearly having just woken up from a nap. "Did you finally take a chill pill?"
"Did you finally decide to get a watch? I don't remember the last time I saw you home this early."
"Ha. Ha. Don't get used to it, I still plan on having a social life." Buttercup retorts, crossing her arms. "Soccer practice kicked my butt today, though and I seriously needed to crash."
Before Blossom can reply their aunt walks in, caring two pizza boxes in one arm and soda in the other.
"Hey girls! So nice of you all to greet me. Help an old lady out, would you?"
Bubbles eagerly takes the pizza, "Isn't this great! We're all going to be eating together. It feels like forever since we've done this." She cheers as she skips ahead to the kitchen.
"I'm glad to see someone is in such a chipper mood. Hope you girls are just as happy to see me."
"As long as one of those pizzas isn't veggie and has some meat on it, I'm good."
"I'll just take that as an I'm so happy to see you too, Auntie."
"Yeah, ok." Buttercup jokes.
"Blossom, you're awfully quiet. Aren't you glad to see me?" Bellum jokes, trying to get an equally playful reaction from her, but Blossom is not in the mood. How can she be when her aunt might be lying to her? To her face! What kind of person could do that? Not that she has solid proof or anything, but it's still a possibility. Her aunt could be lying to her right now. How can Sara even look her in the eye straight-faced after she's lied to her? How can she pretend that everything is okay? Blossom avoids her gaze, "I'm fine. Just tired, I just got home from work."
Bellum's smile drops, "Okay. I understand, um… will you be joining us for dinner?"
Blossom nods her head, still not looking at her, "I just have to change first. You guys go on ahead."
Her aunt nods and goes into the kitchen. Blossom turns away, planning to head to her room and get out of her uniform. She catches Buttercup's eye as she walks away. The brunette giving her a questioning look, but Buttercup doesn't ask, so Blossom leaves without having to come up with another reassuring lie.
Up in her room, she changes into her comfortable lounge clothes. To be honest, her gut reaction to what Officer Michael told her at the diner was to explain it all away as a simple misunderstanding. Her aunt wouldn't purposely keep something from her, at least she thinks she wouldn't. She tries not to think about it, really she does, but as much as she doesn't want to consider it, she can't keep Brick's words from entering her mind.
"Those closest to you lie. If you're debating whether your aunt could lie about this to you, then let me save you the trouble because she could and she would. In all likely hood, she already has."
Blossom bites her lip as she puts her hair up in a messy bun. When she's done, she paces her room pondering whether Brick—of all people—could be right. Her aunt is a good person, but even good people lie. Blossom's done it, only white lies, of course, to keep from hurting someone's feelings or to be polite. As heinous as it is to believe, maybe her aunt did lie and perhaps she did it to protect her niece, a misguided notion but one with well intentions. It still doesn't make it right, to lie about something so serious, especially when her aunt knows how tense she's been over the whole thing.
Her fingers start dancing on her lips mid-pace, she almost bites down on a nail before she realizes what's she doing. Nail biting is a horrible habit, and it took her years to quit. She takes a deep breath, preparing to confront her aunt with all this. She doesn't need another thing weighing on her. It's best to get all this out in the open. Clear the air, before she jumps to conclusions and starts thinking the worst. She heads to the kitchen in a hurry, mentally prepped for a long conversation, but when she gets there and hears laughter, she stops.
"Hey!" Bubbles grins, "You finally joined us, yay! We saved you some pizza."
"Maybe some of that grass pizza. I'm planning on eating this here Meat Lover's all to myself." Buttercup takes a giant bite out of her slice.
"Sit, Blossom. You must be hungry." Her aunt says in a gentle voice.
Blossom complies, all the while losing her nerve.
"Here." Bubbles places a plate with two pizzas in front of her, "I saved you a veggie and a meat lover's slice. Don't let Buttercup see." She winks.
Blossom takes a tentative bite as the conversation resumes around her. It's a conversation of little importance and varying topics, but the mood is light and comforting, the conversation flowing with ease.
It wasn't too long ago that dinners were an awkward and painful affair. It's not exactly like it once was, and it probably never will be, but this is nice. It may only be six months since their father's passing, much too soon to have healed completely, but perhaps the start of the new school year has given her family a sense of new beginnings. A new sense of hope.
Blossom eats her slice in silence, enjoying the company around her. She eyes her aunt, who looks enthralled by whatever Bubbles is saying. She still feels uneasy around her aunt. If Bellum is lying, then that just makes her causal behavior now all the more disturbing. Of course, she shouldn't really put stock into what Brick said. He comes from a corrupt family; he's probably used to lying and betrayal.
Her aunt couldn't do something like that to her; she couldn't. A nagging feeling sits in the back of her throat, like an itch she can't scratch. She should probably talk to Bellum about what Officer Michael said, regardless of what her feelings are, but, Blossom decides, this is neither the time nor place. There are so few days like these and a loaded conversation like the one she was prepared to have can shatter the rare tentative peace present tonight. She doesn't want to ruin it.
Bellum notices the staring and turns her attention to Blossom. "Something on your mind, Blossom?"
"No." Blossom smiles, "This is just…really good pizza. What about you? Anything on your mind?" She asks casually.
Bellum smiles, "Nope, nothing on my mind except for the fear that this pizza is going straight to my hips. I'm glad you like it, but don't fill up. I got us ice cream for dessert."
"Oh! Did you get birthday cake?" Bubbles squeals.
"Please tell me you got mint chocolate chip!" Buttercup asks.
"Don't worry; I got a pint of everyone's favorite."
The camaraderie continues well into the night; ending with ice cream around the TV. It's one of those rare nights where everyone is home and everyone is in a good mood. Her aunt even decides to stay the night, which provides a great comfort to Bubbles, who often feels it's unsafe for three girls to be living on their own. Blossom heads to bed that night feeling more at peace than ever before and yet at the same time feeling more uneasy than ever before.
"Those closest to you lie. If you're debating whether your aunt could lie about this to you, then let me save you the trouble because she could and she would. In all likely hood, she already has."
"Never, I mean never, trust a Mercer—NEVER."
"Don't worry Blossom; I promise I'll catch the scumbags that did this. You count on that."
"Nope, nothing on my mind except for the fear that this pizza is going straight to my hips."
She struggles to fall asleep, tossing and turning, words going through her head. Just as sleep finally starts to claim her, a thought occurs. Her father, her aunt, Officer Michael, and Brick—someone is lying to her. And she has no idea who it is.
Bubbles starts her day off with a smile and a literal skip in her step. The last few days have been great. She was finally catching up to the rest of the girls on the team, Robin and she were hanging out again, Julie was awesome, her sisters weren't fighting as much, and the cherry on top was last night's dinner. She had felt miles from lonely last night and the good feeling carried over to today.
"One of those zippity-do-da days," She sings, brushing her hair into her signature pigtails.
She bounds downstairs to see her two most favorite redheads sitting around the kitchen table. A hot cup of coffee in her aunt's hands and a cold bowl of cereal in her sister's hands.
"Aunt Sarah made us breakfast." Blossom says, raising a spoonful of cereal in the air, "Eat it while it's still hot."
Sarah laughs, "Okay, so my culinary skills aren't exactly expansive, but I mean breakfast is breakfast, right? And who says you can't get all essential nutrients and vitamins from a box of Cheerios."
Bubbles sits down, taking a spoonful of cereal. "Tastes great to me. I give it two thumbs up."
"Thanks. The trick is to put the cereal in before the milk."
"Great advice, I'll make sure to write that down." Blossom jokes sarcastically.
Sarah laughs. "Hey, it's getting kind of late," She looks at her wristwatch. "Shouldn't Buttercup be down by now?"
Blossom and Bubbles share a look. "We should give her a few more minutes." Bubbles argues, "She's probably just getting up. She doesn't take long to get ready." She reassures Sarah.
"But she's not going to have enough time to eat breakfast." Sarah protests.
"She doesn't normally have breakfast," Blossom tells their aunt. "I don't know, Bubbles. Aunt Sarah is right; it's getting late. I think I should wake her up. I'll be right back. " Blossom gets up before Bubbles can say anything else.
Bubbles continues to happily munch on her breakfast as Auntie Sarah watches Blossom's retreating form, once out of sight the older woman sets her eyes on the young blond.
"So," She starts expectantly.
"So?" Bubbles questions.
"Sooooo…seeing any cute boys?"
Bubbles gasps mid-chew causing her to cough. "Wh—what?"
"Oh, you don't have to play innocent with me. I remember what it's like to be young, come on, there must be someone you're interested in."
"You're still young, Auntie Sarah—and no, I am definitely not interested in anyone. What about you? Seeing anyone tall, dark, and handsome?"
"At my age? I think not. And I find that hard to believe. At the very least you must have many secret admirers."
"As many as you probably," Bubbles jokes. Bubbles isn't a vain person, and while she'd go as far as calling herself cute, she's nowhere near as beautiful as her aunt. Apart from her physical beauty, she's also a confident and intelligent woman, and on more than one occasion she's heard her friends call her sexy. Bubbles would be lucky to grow up looking half as beautiful. She wouldn't be surprised if her aunt has dozens of secret admirers.
"I don't know whether you're joking or not, but I'm sure you have at least one boy wrapped around your finger."
"I doubt it." Bubbles mumbles. Recalling a bad memory from the day before.
"What's wrong, Bubbles?"
Bubbles tugs on a pigtail, unsure whether to answer. She hears yelling from upstairs and estimates she has at least a few minutes before her sisters are down. She'd rather they not hear what she has to say.
"Do you…um, I mean…Have you ever heard of the term 'damaged goods'?"
Sara frowns, "You mean like in shopping or in…Bubbles, did someone say something to you?"
Bubbles shakes her "No, it's not about me. Not really. It's just… a friend of my mentioned it the other day,"
"I still can't believe Boomer is your chem partner," Ciara states, her back facing Bubbles as she and the rest of the cheer squad stretch.
"I can't believe he's in your art class," Kitty adds in a bored tone.
"Like are you lucky or what?" Kristen gushes.
"What? No way, sitting next to that train wreck is definitely not lucky," Kim says with distaste.
"What! No way! He's hot, and it doesn't hurt that he's rich." Kristen argues.
"Crazy rules out hot, every time. Wise words to live by, Bubbles, unless you want to end up murdered." Kim chides.
"I don't know Boomer very well, but I don't think he'd go as far as murder." Bubbles argues weekly, not that she's overly fond of Boomer, but it seems unfair to talk about him behind his back.
"I agree." Hums Kitty, "That boy is clearly damaged goods."
"Damaged goods?" Bubbles questions. "What do you mean?"
"Well, he may not be a murderer—not that we know of, anyway—but that boy has issues. Baggage. And it's not worth your time to invest in a boy like that."
"But what about the money? He's rich, isn't that worth her time?" Kristen asks.
Bubbles winces, discreetly hiding her face with her hair so that they don't see her reaction. She thinks it tackless to even think about dating someone just for their money. What a cruel thing to do.
"Please. Boomer isn't rich. His dad is. See, that's one of his issues. He is the discarded son, well, second discarded. Everyone knows Mercer has three sons, one that went to jail, one that goes to private school, and then there's Boomer, who goes to public school. Face it; he's the forgotten son. He's not going to see a dime of that money. I wouldn't be surprised if his father kicked him out when he turns 18."
"His parents wouldn't do that, would they?" Bubbles asks, a hint of worry in her voice.
"Yeah? I mean, he's not just a Mercer. He's also a Strong. Rich socialites never abandoned one of their own." Ciara comments.
"That boy is anything but a socialite. Walking around like he's trying to blend into the walls. He's not a Strong and barely a Mercer. I doubt his grandparents would even take him in. I heard they cut off all ties when their daughter married HIM. And well, now not even his mother is in the picture. She's probably dead."
"What." Bubbles stops her stretching, "She's dead? How do you know?"
"I don't know for sure, but no one has seen her in years. She used to be all over the news and on covers of magazines but then one day—zip, nada. It's like she disappeared off the face of the planet. She probably isn't dead, since I'm sure they would have had like a city-wide funeral. My theory is that she ran away. Just packed her bags and left. She's probably somewhere in Europe right now, sunbathing. Ugh, I so wish I was rich."
"You are rich." Her friends remind her.
"Not Mercer or Strong rich. Whatever." Kitty waves them off.
"Poor Boomer." Bubbles whispers, "That's awful."
Kitty hums, "Like I said, damaged goods. He has too many issues. Alright well, that's enough talk, everyone up! We're doing laps!"
While everyone starts running, Bubbles lags behind, the conversation weighing on her. She feels terrible now, for judging Boomer so harshly. Not that she thinks him any less dangerous, but now that she understands that there is a reason behind his behavior and the rumors, she sympathizes with him. She understands what it's like not to have a mom. She understands the feeling of wanting to disappear, of wanting to blend into the walls. At least she has her sisters; though if she didn't have them, would she be just as screwed up as Boomer?
"Bubbles! Keep up!" Kitty yells.
Bubbles shakes away her thoughts, shelving the conversation away in her mind.
She hadn't thought about it since, but then her aunty brought up boys and her true feelings about yesterday's conversation came bubbling to the surface.
She sympathized with Boomer so much, understood how he could be feeling. He was damaged goods because his father didn't pay him any attention, his mother left him, and he was apparently penniless. Bad things yes, but a least his parents were still alive. Bubbles never even knew her mother, and now her father was dead. They were struggling now to get by, to pay the bills. Technically, she is a poor orphan.
So did that mean…she was damaged goods?
It hurts to think, but it makes sense. She was a train wreck after her father died, antisocial and depressed. She walked away from the team, her friends, even broke up with her boyfriend at the time. She still hasn't even spoken with Mike since. And the girls are still weird around her. She's better now, not quite whole, but perhaps she never will be. Maybe she's just…damaged goods.
"I don't know." Bubbles says, "It made me think."
"Bubbles, whatever your friend said, it's not true." Her aunt reaches out and grabs her hand, squeezing it.
Bubbles shrugs, "I guess…" She wants to ask. Ask her aunty if her dead parents make her damaged goods. If everyone will only ever see her as baggage, as a sad cautionary tale. If anyone will ever look at her again and not feel pity or awkwardness around her. Will boys avoid her? Not want to invest in her? Will no one want her again? She looks her aunt in the eye, gathering the courage to ask when loud footsteps ruin their quiet moment.
"If you made it a habit to wake up on time, I wouldn't have to barge into your room!"
"I was up on time! You're the one that walked in while I was changing!"
"I wouldn't have barged in if you had answered when I knocked!"
"I was changing! I didn't hear you! Don't act like this isn't your fault, you're the one ignoring my privacy. How would you like it if I barged into to your room?"
"Don't go in my room!"
"Girls!" Their aunt yells, walking away from Bubbles. "It is way too early for you two to be fighting."
"But!" Her sisters yell in unison.
"No buts! Now, makeup."
Both her older sisters give Sara an 'are-you-kidding-me' look.
"I mean it. You'll walk to school unless I hear some sorrys."
Blossom, being the bigger person, apologizes first. "Sorry. I'll make sure to respect your privacy from now on."
Buttercup rolls her eyes, "It's whatever…and me too." Buttercup doesn't actually say sorry, but apologies aren't her strong suit, a fact her sisters and Aunt Sara are aware of, so while Buttercup's apology might have sounded insincere, both Sara and Blossom let it slide understanding it's the best apology Buttercup can muster up.
"Right then. If everyone's ready, let's go."
The car ride to school is tense and not because of her sisters' argument this morning. It seems everyone has something on their mind, making the car ride exceptionally quiet and pensive. Bubbles would have been worried if she wasn't so caught up in her thoughts.
"Be goods, girls!" Their aunt yells as they make their way to class.
Here sisters walk ahead of her towards their meeting spot with Robin. You'd think that with Robin being their next door neighbor they'd walk, or drive, to school together, but Robin tutors in the morning. She used to tutor after school with Blossom, but now her afternoons are busy with computer club.
"Hey, I'm gonna head to class. Tell Robin I'll see her later."
"Oh, are you alright?" Blossom questions.
"Yeah, I just need to ask Mr. Savino something before class. See ya' later." She walks away before her sisters can spot her lie. She isn't the best at it; her face always gives her away.
As she guessed, she arrives to class before anyone else, even before Mr. Savino. She wants to clear her head before the start of the school day and figured an empty classroom would be a quiet place to do so.
Bubbles is very aware that she's the emotional one in the family and while she's not ashamed of that, her very headstrong sisters don't understand. Especially when she needs a moment to just…collect herself.
She lets all her emotions rise to the top, takes a deep breath, holds it for a minute, allowing herself to feel every little thing—joy for her new friend Julie, gratefulness for her sisters and Aunt Sara, sadness for the loss of her dad, despair over being damaged goods, pity…for Boomer—then she lets it all go. On breath in and a final one out. Her shoulders sag down. It's taxing carrying all those emotions around with her. Sometimes she just needs a moment to get herself together.
She usually feels much better after doing that, but a new nagging emotion clings to her. Guilt. She feels guilty for pitying Boomer. That's exactly what she doesn't want people to feel about her and yet, here she is pitying a boy she doesn't even really know. Talk about being a hypocrite.
The first bell rings.
A few students start to arrive to class. Bubbles turns her head down, not wanting to see either Boomer or the Triple Ks walk in. Just as the second bells rings, she feels a weight settled down next to her. She automatically tenses. Bubbles can't believe her reaction. One second she's pitting the boy and the next she's afraid of him. It can't be both ways! She's either afraid of him, or she feels sorry for him. Although, neither feeling is great.
She peaks at Boomer from the corner of her eye. His head is down, forever doodling in his notebook. His hoodie is up and Bubbles wonders if he has his headphones in. It must be nice walking around without a care for what anybody thinks of you.
She tugs on a pigtail. The strange part is that everyone thinks that Boomer is this big, bad, thug, but he doesn't go around acting like it. He doesn't say more than three words to her at any given time, and that's usually only when he has to speak.
In truth, Boomer reminds her more of a turtle. He has a hard outer shell but a soft gooey center, so delicate that he only peeks his head out once in a while afraid that some big bad meanie is going to stomp on him. Ha! The mental image is so ridiculous that she can't help but giggle. I mean, Boomer, a turtle? A gooey, soft center? As if she knows anything about him to make that assumption. But still, it is sort of silly. Okay, really silly.
A flash of blond catches her attention. She turns her head to see Boomer looking at her, hoodie down, a confused look on his face. Bubbles looks away, blushing like crazy. Great, maybe he thinks I'm laughing at him. Way to get on the guy's good side.
"I'm not laughing at you." She blurts out. Unsure of why she did that. Make she's still thinking of turtle Boomer and how his delicate feelings would be hurt if he thought someone was laughing at him, or maybe she doesn't want thug Boomer to be mad at her. Both seem like good reasons for explaining herself.
Boomer's confused look doesn't change.
"See, I was thinking of something funny. A turtle, not that I think turtles are funny, actually I find them really cute, but I thought of like these words like gooey and meanie, which now that I say it out loud sounds like something a five-year-old would say, but yeah, anyway all together it just made this really funny image and I couldn't help but laugh. I know it doesn't sound funny, but if you saw it, you would understand. Not that you could cause, duh, you can't read my mind or anything…"
Boomer continues to look at her as if she's crazy.
"But I swear I was not laughing at you."
Boomer opens his mouth in response but is silenced by Mr. Savino, who has just walked in. The two blonds stay quite, eyes averted from one another as Mr. Savino takes roll. The next fifteen minutes of homeroom are the longest of Bubble's life. It's so awkward. They haven't said more than two sentences to each other in the last two weeks of being chem partners, and now here she is, basically giving him a speech. Way to spazz out Bubbles.
"Alright, homeroom is over, take out your Chemistry books and turn them to chapter 3. We're going to be covering—" the phone rings, interrupting Mr. Savino. "Hold on." He says as he reaches for the phone.
Light chatter springs up around the class as Mr. Savino's back it turned.
Bubbles takes a deep breath. It's now or never.
"Um…" She starts uncertain of how to get Boomer's attention. Lucky for her, he heard her. He turns his gaze to her. His stare intense and silent as ever.
"Um…Hi. I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot. Not that we just met or anything, but I mean, we are partners, and we really don't talk to one another, and then I really didn't want you to think I was laughing at you—"
"It's fine. I didn't think you were. So don't worry, I'm not gonna put a hit on you or anything." He says quickly then turns back around.
Bubbles is confused at first. A hit? What did he mean by that? Then it occurs to her; he probably thinks she's scared that she upset him. Boomer is clearly aware of his reputation at school. While that may have been the reason for her apology initially, during those long fifteen minutes, Bubbles realized that she can't handle going a whole semester feeling this tense and unsure around Boomer, especially when he's never done anything to her. And, she also wants to prove Kitty and her friends wrong. Boomer, damaged goods or not, deserves to be treated just like everybody else. That's how she'd want to be treated.
"Oh! No, that's not…I just think it's mean to laugh at people. No that I was laughing at you…"
Boomer doesn't turn back around.
"Look," Bubbles sighs, "You don't have to like me or anything, but at the very least you're an acquaintance, and I always say hi to people I know. So…hi, good morning. That's all I wanted to say and if you feel like greeting me too then that would be great! Because even if you don't like me, we're Chem partners and art class…mates, classmates. So yeah…"
A few tense seconds pass before Boomer finally faces her again. Bubbles gives him a weak smile, trying to appear friendly.
"Why?" he says.
"Why, what?"
"Why are you being nice?"
"Shouldn't everyone be nice?"
Before he can answer, Mr. Savino ends his call, gathering everyone's attention once more. The blonds remain quiet for the rest of class. When the bell rings, Bubbles has given up hope that Boomer will accept her olive branch. Just as she's walking out of class, Boomer walks past her, whispering something only she can hear.
"Morning."
He's gone before she can respond. It's a simple greeting, just one word, but the impact is far greater, and for the rest of the day Bubbles has a big goofy smile on her face.
Blossom is usually the first in class and the last to leave. She likes to make sure she has all her notes written down and all her stuff in order before leaving. She's walking out the door when she spots Bubble's friends from last night.
"Julie?" She calls out. "It is Julie, right?"
The petite blond turns around, surprised. "Oh. Yeah. Hey Blossom, this is a surprise."
"Seeing me? Bubbles did mention we were in the same class."
"Yeah, I know. I was the one that told her. I guess I didn't expect you to say hi."
"What? Why not?"
"You've never said it before." Noticing Blossom's confused expression, Julie continues, "You don't remember me, do you?"
"Um, no, sorry. Have we met before?" Blossom asks, taken aback.
"Yeah, I moved here last year. Was behind on some subjects and you were tutoring me after school."
"Oh. Now that you mention it, I do remember. You were behind in history if I'm not mistaken. I'm awfully sorry, Julie. I should have recognized you."
Julie shrugs, "It's alright. I was hurt at first, but then I realized you're like that with everyone."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, not to sound harsh or anything, but you pretty much ignore everyone that isn't a teacher, your sisters, or that Robin girl. Not that it's a bad thing. I use to think you were conceited but Bubbles explained that you just have a lot going on. Straight A student, tutor, volunteer, and now working girl. It's a lot. Hey, this is my class. I'll see ya' later."
"Bye," Blossom mumbles distractedly.
She isn't conceited, is she? She supposes she can be too in her head sometimes. As Julie said, she has a lot of things going on, but she never thought it would affect her behavior and certainly not towards other people.
Truth be told, she always saw herself as the shy, nerdy girl. Not that she believes in high school labels, personally, but if people were going to judge her, that would be her identifier, right? Besides, she doesn't know enough people to go around saying hi to. She's not Bubbles, nor Buttercup, she doesn't have many friends.
She reaches her class before the final bell. Having lagged behind talking to Julie and stewing over her thoughts, she isn't the first in class. Luckily, her seat is available. She hurries inside, pushing away Julie's words. So what if people think she's conceited, or that she's some nerdy loner. She doesn't have time to worry about what people think of her. She's much too busy.
It's been two weeks since Buttercup ran into that green-eyed bull and nothing exciting has happened since then. Even worse, she still has the photos she took.
The plan was to send the pictures to the police with an anonymous letter explaining the whole thing. That's still the plan, only she can't bring herself to do it. Don't get her wrong; it's not like she's scared or anything, in fact, every time she thinks about dropping off those pictures she starts to feel disappointed. She went through so much to get those photos and handing them over seems a little…anticlimactic.
Whatever. Maybe she just doesn't trust the police. Whose to say they'd do anything with the information she hands over. They certainly haven't helped Blossom. Then again, looking over the pictures on her phone, she can't say this is enough information to incriminate anybody. It's a car and a boy. That's it.
The picture of the hair she found underneath the car isn't even visible. Damn, she should have bagged it or something. Then there's the dead guy. She still didn't know who the guy was. You can't have a murder case without a body.
Ugh! This is so frustrating! Maybe she should do some more investigating. She doesn't even know the green-eyed guy's name! Not that she's overly excited about seeing him again—okay, maybe a small sick part of her is secretly excited, but, hey, if she beat him once before whose to say she can't take him on again. Pfft, that guy wasn't so tough.
"Yo! You playing candy crush or something." Craig yells out, throwing a bread roll at her face.
"Right. Scared I'll beat your record?" Buttercup retorts, pocketing her phone and tossing the bread roll back at him.
"Please, like I'd ever play that stupid game."
"I'm on level 95." Stevie shares.
"Well, congratulations. That's time you'll never get back." Craig responds.
"Hey, Fresa," Jenni calls out to her, "You've seen Mitch?"
"Not since yesterday. Isn't he at home sick?" Buttercup assumed that is where Mitch was when she didn't see him sitting at their usual lunch table. She would have asked about him, but the guys always make a big deal whenever she brings him up, and she didn't want them teasing her.
"Na, he's here, but he was acting mad strange this morning."
"Tweaking," Stevie adds.
"Maybe he's high." Lauren says, "It wouldn't be the first time he's shown up to school stoned."
"Hey, BC, Mitch don't smoke around you, does he?" Craig asks.
She shakes her head, "No. I know he smokes though, doesn't bother me." She knows this group isn't particularly shy about drinking and doing drugs, which extends to Mitch as well, but for some reason, Mitch has never smoked or even drank when around her. She told him she doesn't mind, because she doesn't, not really. She's not into drinking or smoking herself and would never do it, but she's not anybody's mother. They can do whatever the hell they like. Lauren and Craig share a look at her words. Both of them grinning ear to ear. What that's all about?
"If he was high, he'd be here. It's the only place with free food." Jenni states. "Whatever. If you see him Buttercup, maybe you can remind him that we're his friends and to stop being all weird around us. Ugh, I gotta go. I'll see you losers later." She leaves, not waiting for an answer. Buttercup is stunned and doesn't respond before Jenni leaves the table.
"I know what you're thinking, but beneath her bad attitude Jenni really does care," Lauren tells her.
"Yeah, and beneath that is more bitch." Craig laughs.
"Craig!" Lauren scolds him, hitting him. "Don't be an ass."
"Funny." Buttercup agrees, "I'll catch you guys later. I gotta get something from my locker." Her locker is on the east side of campus, complete opposite direction from her next class. She doesn't really need anything from her locker, but since the gang mentioned something wrong with Mitch she hopes that he's either hanging around her locker or dropped a note. That's what he did the first few days of school when she was still freaked about the incident and ignoring him.
She arrives at her locker to find Mitch trying to slip a piece of paper inside. "If you want to talk, I'm here. No need for secrecy." He jumps around, surprised. His eyes are wide and red. Man, maybe Lauren is right, he is high. "Dude, you high right now?" She whispers, looking around to make sure no one heard.
"No! Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Have you seen yourself? Your eyes are completely bloodshot."
"I didn't get much sleep last night," He says rubbing his neck. "Actually, that's why I'm here." He looks around then pulls her to a secluded hallway.
"Mitch, what the hell? Jenni said you were acting weird, but what—"
"Did you see the news last night?"
"What?"
"Did you see the news last night?" He asks again, his tone more panicked.
"No. I don't watch the news. Mitch, what's gotten into you? Why are you so freaked?"
"Man. Oh man. Fuck. Fuck!" He mumbles, leaning his head against the wall.
"Mitch…" She places her hand on his shoulder, feeling it tense underneath her palm, "What happened? What's wrong?"
Mitch sighs, "I think it's better if you see it for yourself." He pulls out his phone and hands it over, a video loaded for her to watch.
"In other news, a startling new development has just come out of City Hall. City attorney Jeremy Kenny has been reported missing. According to co-workers and family, Jeremy Kenny failed to show up to work following a three-week long work trip to Citiesville. His wife, Marie Kenny, reported him missing. We go live for a statement. Linda."
The news cuts to an Asian lady standing outside a big, lavish house. A family of three stands behind the reporter. "Thank you, Kate. I'm here outside the Kenny household, joined by his wife and two younger children. Mrs. Kenny, when did you suspect your husband was missing?"
"He usually checks in after returning from his work trips. I didn't think any of it at the time when he didn't call; I assumed he was late for work or had to check in before coming home. Then it got later and later, and he never came home. I called city hall, to check if he was there but they said he never made it into work. I called, but his phone was out of service. I decided to give it another day, thinking maybe he got caught up in Citiesville, but…but…he…he never came home." She sobs, doubling over.
"I'm very sorry," Linda says, patting the older woman on the back. "According to Police Chief Martin Bennett, all resources have been allocated to finding your husband."
The woman continues to cry, "Please! If anyone has seen him, come forward! Please!"
The video cuts back to the news anchor, Kate. "Alright, well as you can see. His family is very distraught over his disappearance. We urge any citizen with information over the whereabouts of Jeremy Kenny to come forward. Here is a current photo of Mr. Kenny and underneath is a number you can call with information."
The man's picture appears on the screen. Buttercup gasps. Holy shit! Jeremy Kenny, age 48, grey hair, clean face, pot-bellied…
"This is…"
"Yeah," Mitch whispers, "He's the man they ran over that night…in the Rot."
Buttercup can only gape at him. The video continues to play on, but she pays little attention to it, trying to wrap her head around this new information.
"This unfortunate news comes following the horrible incident to fellow city council member, Jack Martin, who was a victim of a brutal beating just a few months ago. He is said to have recovered and will soon…"
"Oh my God! Mitch! Do you know what this means?"
"Shhh! Not so loud."
"Mitch! We have to go to the police!"
Mitch groans, "I was afraid you were going to say that."
"What? Mitch, there's no reason not to go. You heard them; the whole city is looking for this guy."
"Yeah, because they think he's missing."
"Right, but we know better!"
"Buttercup, remember what I said? This wasn't an accident. I mean, hell, I thought that guy got into it with some loan sharks. At best, it was a drunk hit n' run, and at worse, I thought maybe they had some bone to pick with the guy, but Buttercup, don't you see? This guy was part of the city council. He was the GOD DAMN attorney! This goes a lot deeper than I thought. This is serious Buttercup!"
"That doesn't change anything! If anything, it gives us more reason to go to the police."
Mitch groans again, leaning his head against the wall, "I shouldn't have shown you that video."
"Well, if you didn't want to do anything about it then why did you?"
"It would have gotten out eventually; I thought it would be best if you heard it from me. 'Sides, as you can see I'm not exactly handling the news well." He sighs, "Buttercup this is bad. Really, really bad. If we go to the police now—if anyone saw us—we could end up in some serious shit. We…we could end dead."
Buttercup feels sick. Only moments before was she toying with the idea of comforting that son of a bitch once more. She can't believe she thought she could take him. It was one thing when she thought he was a common thug, but Mitch is right, this is a lot more serious than she initially thought.
City attorney, FUCK, that's a big target—a real VIP. If that bull could kill him and cover up all his tracks, then she's dealing with a pro. A real psychopath. Still, there is the anonymous letter option. Although, that might not be the best option. He's seen her face. He might not know who she is, but if she's the reason he ends up behind bars, there's no telling what lengths he'd go to to get back at her. She's got her sisters to think about, her aunt, Mitch.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK!
"Buttercup? You okay? You look like you're about to throw up."
"I'm good. Just…I guess it's finally hitting me. You know even if we don't go to the police, we're already in deep shit. We're gonna have to live with this for the rest of our lives."
"At least we'll be alive."
The bell rings. Students slowly start to flood the hallways.
"You have practice today?" Mitch asks
She nods her head, "Yeah."
"Can we meet up after? I think we should talk. Decide what we should do. "
"Yeah. Okay. Wanna meet up at the shop?"
Mitch nods, "I'll see you later and, Buttercup, not to sound lame or anything but if I had to go through this with anyone I'm glad it's you. You're one cool chick."
Buttercup smiles, a small, fragile smile. Were it any other situation; Buttercup would have been incredibly flattered by Mitch's words. But sweet words don't exactly fix the clusterfuck they found themselves in, still, it's Mitch, so it does count for something. "Thanks. I'm glad it's you too."
The second bells rings, making Buttercup late for class, but she stays planted in her spot watching Mitch walk away, dreading what they'll decide to do later on.
Practice kicked her ass today. It wasn't the first time that's happened. With all this murder shit going on her focus has been less than great during practice. She knows she has more important—literal life or death—stuff going on, but if she keeps sucking like this then her rep is going to take a serious downturn. She's the best player on the team, but she feels that title slowly slipping out of her hands.
Whatever. Now is not the time to be worrying over this. Her rep can wait, at least until after she and Mitch decide what to do. Man, she really wants to go to the police but since that green-eyed asshole knows what she looks like it could put Mitch and her family in danger.
She regrets trying to handle the situation alone; now she's in more trouble than before. Mitch doesn't know she fucked up and went behind his back, so if he doesn't want to go to the cops, then she's gonna have to respect that. It'll eat away at her for the rest of her life, but at least Mitch and her sisters will be safe. She'll be safe.
"I love a girl in shorts." A deep, gruff voice states from behind, making her freeze in her tracks. "Not that I'm a leg man, but a little skin never hurt."
Buttercup doesn't have a chance to turn around, jump away, or even to bolt out of there when a powerful grip pulls her back. She feels herself crash into something solid and hard, his grip digging into her skin. His breath hot and slimy on the side of her face.
"Hola, bonita. I've been looking all over for you. We need to talk."
Author's Note
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And to those that don't celebrate Christmas—HAPPY HOLIDAYS! This is my gift to all of you. I hope you enjoyed it! I did not want to finish off the year without updating my active fics at least one last time.
So yeah, I got all three girl's POVs in this chapter. I hope you guys are liking it. I have a bunch of different plotlines that I want to include, some are just beginning and some are just starting to get good (i.e. Buttercup's) and still some that I have yet to write, so bear with me. I'm writing as fast as I can.
Anyway, before I get to reviewer acknowledgments I just want to wish everyone the best this holiday season. I hope you are happy and having fun, and for anyone working, you keep on that hustle. Everyone has to work. Also, Happy New Years!
Okay, I want to THANK the following people for hitting that follow/favorite button: ayeshitwaddup, Raselgin, writersblock0064, animelover91702, Ash141, SilentSensationX, Darkjuliet4444
Reviewer Acknowledgments
ayeshitwaddup: Why thank you! Since it's Christmas I'll give you an extra present. First, yes, the reunion with the Mercers will be intense. As I stated in the last chapter Brick has interactions with both HIM and Boomer, but it's the reunion with Butch that will be really intense because, well, let's just say Butch holds a grudge. A mean one.
writersblock0064: Yes! Thank you! I'm glad you have questions; it means you're invested. I'd love to hear some of your theories. Buttercup has gotten herself into some deep shit, we'll see how she gets out of this—if she get's out of this. Also, we will (hopefully—most likely) be getting a lot more from the boy's perspectives in the next chapter.
Ash141: THANK YOU!I loved your review because I feel the same way about the characters, like, yes! Butch meet the girl of your dream. Yes! Blossom is a bit of a trainwreck, haha. Brick is totally underestimating Blossom. And so many interactions! I hope you liked Brick's and Blossom's first conversation. I'd love to heat your thoughts on it.
Alright guys! Until next time! Happy New Years! Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas!