Drake groaned when music blasted from his phone. For a moment, he didn't move, and instead just listened to the rock tune as he continued resting on his stomach and hugging his pillow.
The fire in your veins is just a joke you tell yourself
Another way to cut the cost, hide your face from all the guilt
And it's a shame to have to say you had to kill to gain control
But at least you made some money, hey, let the good times roll
During the guitar solo that followed, Drake realized that this wasn't the song he had set as his alarm; this was his ringtone. He turned over and picked it up, then looked at the screen, which read Unknown ID. Usually, he didn't answer these kinds of calls, but he was half asleep and wasn't thinking clearly.
"Hello?" he said.
"Good morning, sleepyhead."
His brows furrowed as he rubbed his tired eyes. He didn't recognize the scratchy male voice, and he couldn't think of anyone who would greet him this way. "Hmm?"
"Wakey wakey."
"I think you have the wrong number," he almost slurred.
"I don't think I do, Drake."
He opened his eyes finally and lifted his head off the pillow as if that would help him see clearer. He checked the screen again, wondering if he had seen the name wrong or perhaps dreamt it. "Who is this?"
"You'll find out," the man said, "soon enough."
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Do you wanna play a game, Drake?"
"Fuck you."
He hung up, then pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes some more. He was still so tired, his sleep having been riddled with nightmares, as usual. At one point, Josh asked him if he was okay, to which he said he was. Being plagued by nightmares made him feel weak, and he didn't want anyone to see him as such. Plus, he didn't want to live through the bad dreams again by retelling them, so he buried them deep in the back of his mind.
Now that he'd given himself a bit of time to wake up, he thought about the strange phone call. Someone was trying to mess with him, but who? Trevor maybe? He was probably stoned and desperate for entertainment. Or perhaps Vance? Drake had changed his phone number twice already. Who kept giving that kid his contact info?
He brushed that thought to the side and picked up his phone again to check his texts. He had one from his bandmate Jaysen, informing him about the practice they were having later that afternoon. There was one from Braid Girl, last night's date. He didn't have her number saved in his phone, and she didn't give her name because she assumed he remembered it, but he knew it was her based on the context clues from her message. She wanted to hang out again after school. There was another text from an unnamed girl from his past, the contents similar to the first, and lastly, there was a message from Trevor, asking him if he wanted to smoke before school. That was the only one he replied to.
He had one last stretch, and the bones in his shoulders popped, then he climbed down the ladder and got an outfit together. He stopped by the bathroom for his morning routine, then headed to the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal. He was reading a message from Trevor when Josh entered. His stepbrother grabbed himself a bowl, then sat down in the seat across from him and poured himself some cereal.
"Hey," he greeted cheerfully. Early mornings never bothered him.
"Hey," Drake replied absently.
Josh took a bite of his Cap'n Crunch, waiting for the boy to acknowledge him, but he didn't. "Did you do the homework for Mrs. Hayfer?"
His brother sighed, cursing himself internally. Finally, he set the phone down. "No."
"Dad's gonna be disappointed. You know what he said last time—"
"I know, I know." It was too early for another lecture. "Can you—"
"Don't even say it."
"Say what?"
"I know what you're gonna ask me, and the answer is no."
"Josh—"
"I'm sorry, but what kind of brother would I be if I keep allowing you to cheat off me? I don't mind if you need help and ask me to do it with you, but you can't expect me to always do it for you. How is that gonna help you in the long run?"
"You can spare me the whole shame-on-you spiel," Drake said with annoyance. "I'll do it myself."
"Good." The younger teen took another bite of his cereal, then glanced at his watch to make sure he wouldn't be late for school.
Again, his stepbrother sighed, giving in. "Come on, bro. Help me out here. Just this once."
"Once? I'm always helping you, Drake. More than I should."
"I know, so what's one more time?"
"No," Josh said firmly. "You shouldn't have snuck out last night."
"I didn't sneak out."
"Where did you go anyway?"
Drake ignored this question. "Look, please? You know Mrs. Hayfer's this close to calling home, and Walter is gonna flip out if she calls again. I just got off a two-month restriction last week."
"Well, punching a teacher is a big no-no, Drake."
"That prick deserved it."
"Mr. Barnes may have said some things he shouldn't have, but you took it to the extreme. There are other ways to display anger. I mean, violence? Name-calling? I think you go a little too far sometimes."
Oh, okay, now it was making sense.
"Is this because of what I said to Mindy?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. He looked at his stepbrother incredulously. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have called her a cunt to her face. I should've said it behind her back. My bad."
Josh shook his head and dipped his spoon into the bowl in front of him. "Unbelievable. You know, that's my girlfriend, and I get that you don't like her. I don't like half the girls you bring home either. Most of them are stuck up jerks, but even when they say something rude to me — and I know you've heard it — you don't see me calling them names. You know why?" he asked. "Well, because it's mean. But also, it's because you're my brother, and I wouldn't want to put you in that uncomfortable position. You don't even like those girls anyway, but you know how I feel about Mindy, yet you always put a wedge between us because you expect me to side with you, and she expects me to stick up for her, and one or both of you always end up mad at me somehow. That's not fair."
Drake didn't have an immediate response like usual. Part of him wanted to continue defending what he had said and provide proof as to exactly why Mindy was and continues to remain a big, fat cunt. However, he had to choose between his pride and his freedom right now, and he didn't want to get grounded again.
"Okay." He sighed with closed eyes. It wasn't easy for him to swallow his pride. "I admit I was a little harsh—"
"A little?"
Drake glared at him. "Don't push it."
He knew his brother was enjoying this. It wasn't often that he owned up to his mistakes — or what other people considered to be his mistakes — and sometimes Josh enjoyed watching him grovel a little bit. Drake was Mr. Popularity. He was cool and conceited, and he often brought that personality home with him. Sure, they were best friends, but he could be hard to live with sometimes.
"I will try harder next time to be the bigger person and keep my thoughts, no matter how right I may be, to myself. Okay? Come on, bro. I need you to bail me out of this one more time. I won't ask again. I swear. Please?"
Josh bent over in his seat and unzipped the book bag that was on the floor next to him.
Exasperated, Drake said, "Thank you," and he dug through his unorganized bag for his own crumpled up homework.
Josh passed along a sheet of paper, then went back to his cereal. Because he was doing his brother a favor, he took this time to ask a question that Drake wouldn't answer before, hoping that he would now feel obligated to be honest. "Did you have a nightmare earlier?"
"No," he said, quiet, but clearly irritated.
"I was just wondering because you were making some weird noises when I got up. I said your name and you calmed down, so I didn't wake you."
Drake didn't reply. He quickly copied down the answers, purposely marking a few wrong because he was Drake after all. A perfect grade would look suspicious when it was coming from him. His teachers knew that he was less competent than his Harvard-worthy brother. He was sure they knew he copied Josh's work and kept quiet about it because they didn't want him in their class again next year. He wasn't popular amongst teachers and other faculty members — at least, not for good reasons. They all knew his name, though, and the same thing couldn't be said for his brother.
"You can talk to me, you know," Josh pushed.
Drake passed his homework back and shoved his own inside his book bag — just in time, too, for his stepfather entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, boys," Walter greeted just as cheerfully as his son had despite also having a late night, what with work and all.
"Good morning, Dad," Josh said.
Drake stood and grabbed his backpack off the back of the chair. He placed his half-eaten bowl of cereal in the sink. "I've gotta go." Before either one could say anything, he rushed off.
Walter made himself a cup of coffee, then joined his son at the table. "How's he doing?"
Josh looked at the empty doorway, replaying Drake's brisk exit. "I think he had another nightmare, but he won't tell me."
Walter frowned. "I wonder if he's still taking his medicine like he's supposed to."
"I don't know. He's been acting weird lately."
"We just have to keep an eye on him. It'll be one year on Friday. That's probably been weighing heavy on his mind."
"I just wish he'd open up to me like he used to."
"Keep trying," Walter persuaded, giving him a proud pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure he'll come around. He might just need a little time and space to process things on his own for a while."
Josh nodded, then scooted his chair backwards and stood. "I better get going, too." He took his bowl to the sink, then came back for his bag.
"I'm gonna have another late night at work. Think you can hold the fort down?"
"Right, because Drake and Megan totally listen to me."
"Just try to keep them from burning the house down and tearing each other's heads off. If they won't listen, just tell me when I get home and I'll have a talk with them." Walter said. "I love you, son."
"I love you, too."
The man gave Josh a hug, then kissed the top of his head before patting his back, gently pushing him along. "Alright, get out of here. You don't wanna be late."
Drake inhaled, held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, then he let go of his breath, allowing a puffy cloud to fill the car as he relaxed against the headrest of the passenger's seat. His anxiety was acting up today, and he had a lot on his mind. He had thoughts about ditching school and instead heading to the park to get higher, but he decided against it when he thought about how behind he was on his classwork. Walter will kill him once those report cards get sent home at the end of the week.
"Yo, pass the blunt already." Trevor reached over and took the blunt from between the tips of his friend's thumb and pointer finger. He put one end in his mouth and held it there between his lips while he switched hands, placing his right one on the wheel so that he could flick the ashes out the window. "Hey, you got any xannies left?" When Drake shook his head, he spoke with surprise and disappointment, "You sold them all already? Damn."
"I sold most of them to you," the boy reminded.
On the radio, heavy metal played. Drake didn't mind the guitar so much, but he didn't like the low-pitched screaming voices, especially with his anxiety already through the roof. He knew his way around the car enough to know that Trevor kept his CDs and tapes in the middle compartment. He lifted the lid, then did a thorough search until he came across a cassette with no cover picture or writing. It's one that Trevor had made for him, and Drake kept it in his car because he didn't have a cassette player at home.
He opened the cartridge, pulled out the tape, then put it into the radio. Once he pressed play, Yak's "Alas Salvation" started blasting through the speakers. At this time, Trevor was passing the blunt back to him. He accepted and put it between his lips.
It was about ten minutes later when they arrived at Woodsboro High School. Drake put out what was left of the blunt, then he picked up the Altoids tin Trevor kept his stash in and put the roach inside.
"Holy shit..."
Drake looked at his best friend with questioning brows, then he followed his gaze to the crowded parking lot. It was a madhouse. Not only was it filled with its normal students and cars. There was also a circus of reporters, cameramen and news vans lined up out front. "What the fuck?" he mumbled.
They were staring so hard, their fried brain cells trying to work out what was happening, that neither one noticed the car crossing in front of them. After a monstrous HONK!, they both flinched, and Trevor slammed his foot down on the brake pedal.
"Watch it, you fucking moron!" the guy in the other vehicle yelled. It was Huntley, which wasn't surprising. That guy was a total dick.
"Fuck you, asshole!" Trevor hollered back, flipping him off as he drove away. He then started to make his way to his designated parking spot.
Drake's nerves were shot, and his heart was still pounding against his chest due to the sudden honk. This was almost enough to sober him up. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his fingers, which always happens when he's suddenly afraid. If he would've looked down at them, he would've realized that they were shaking. Instead, his eyes were on the news reporters, who running around like kids on Christmas morning. This all felt too familiar to Drake, and he didn't like it. He's lived through this before. It happened one year ago when...when...
"Drake!" Trevor called for the fourth time. He was munching on a bag of Skittles now. "Are you coming? I wanna see what all the fuss is about."
The young man dazedly grabbed his bag and got out of the car. It took more prodding from an oblivious Trevor to get him to start walking. Drake's hands were sweaty as he gripped the strap of his backpack tighter than he meant to, making his knuckles white. Despite Trevor's hurry, he stayed with his friend, whose steps were slow. Drake wanted to turn right back around, get in the car, and head straight for the park. I knew I should've skipped today, he thought to himself.
Suddenly, he felt two hands on his shoulders, and at the same time, a voice behind him said "Yo!" It shouldn't have scared him, but it did. Standing next to him now was Stephen. He still had his hands on Drake's shoulders, and he shook him back and forth as if trying to wake him up from a daydream. "What's wrong with you, dude?"
"W-what's going on?" he managed to ask.
"I don't know. I just pulled up. You wanna go check it out?"
"Hell yeah," Trevor chimed in, then they started walking again.
"I bet it was that janitor," Stephen said. "Mr. Bottoms or whatever. He's always so creepy around the girls. He probably did something, and they caught him."
As they neared closer to the school, Drake's desire to turn the other way only grew. Something felt wrong about today, and he's felt that way since his nightmare this morning. He should've stayed in bed. He should've slept through the day.
"Drake! Hey, Drake!"
He turned to his left and saw his stepbrother hurrying towards him. He paused, grateful to have a reason to stop walking closer to the frenzied crowds.
"Oh my God," Josh said, out of breath now. "There you are."
"Do you know what the hell's going on?" Trevor asked him.
Josh was hunched over, sweating and gasping for air as if he'd been running laps around the parking lot. "Drake," he panted. "Drake, let me talk to you." He nodded his head to the side, and Drake absently followed him over.
"What the hell is that about?" Stephen said.
"I don't know," Trevor replied, equally confused.
"You don't think this has anything to do with...?" When his friend shrugged, he said, "I think the anniversary is coming up."
"Shit, has it been a year already?"
"Does Drake ever talk about it with you?"
Trevor shook his head and tossed more Skittles into his mouth.
"Guys," came a new voice. They turned to see Ja'won coming towards them now, and he was joined by Vance. "Guys, holy shit. Did you hear?"
Trevor shook his head, and Stephen asked, "Hear what?"
"Linny Tifton and Johnny Derrickson were killed last night!"
"What?!" both boys said at once.
"Not just killed," Vance corrected. "Horrifically stabbed! Like several times!"
"What?" repeated Stephen.
"The killer left Linny's body in their aquarium! You know, like in that 80's flick He Knows You're Alone, but it was her whole body — not just the head. It was the first thing her parents saw when they got home and walked through the door. Blood and dead fish everywhere!" He reported this news almost gleefully.
"Shit...," said Trevor.
"Do they know who did it?" asked Stephen.
"They have no idea!"
"That's so fucked up." His eyes moved to Drake, who must be hearing the same news from his stepbrother. Drake seemed to be taking it well considering, but perhaps it hadn't sunken in yet.
"Wasn't she Drake's girlfriend?" Vance asked when he noticed who everyone was looking at.
"They broke up two weeks ago. Where the fuck have you been?"
"Pretty sus, if you ask me." He had their full attention now. "What? I'm just saying. His girlfriend dies two weeks after they split? If it made him angry enough, he could've done it. I mean, he did just punch Mr. Barnes two months ago. I wouldn't put this past him. He's a fucking loose cannon," Vance said, "especially after everything that happened last year."
Stephen stepped up now, tall and menacing. "Get the fuck out of here," he demanded.
"You seriously don't think he could—"
Stephen shoved him, and it was so hard that Vance fell down. "Fucking go!"
Vance wore anger on his face, but he was much smaller and wiry, so he stood no chance against Stephen, the point guard for their school basketball team. Therefore, he stood, muttered a swear word, then stormed off.
"Why do you even hang out with that dickwad?" Stephen asked Ja'won.
A few feet away, Drake stood in front of his brother, but it was hard to make out what he was saying after he'd informed him of the news. He was completely sober now, although he didn't look like it. The shock of what Josh had told him left him slow and dumbfounded. He only dated Linny for a couple months. Drake had a hard time committing, so once things seemed like they were getting serious, he broke it off, just like he always did. Linny had been upset about it. She'd cried, and Drake had felt bad, but his fear of commitment got him through.
"Drake?" Josh said, his features showing his concern as he saw the dazed look on his stepbrother's face.
Still, Drake couldn't seem to snap out of it. He was trying to comprehend everything. He tried replaying this conversation in his head, but only a few words stuck out: girlfriend...murdered...knife...stabbed to death...graphic...okay?...
"Hey? Drake?"
"Hmm?" Finally, he looked up at him, meeting his eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"Mm-hmm." He nodded, then flinched when the bell rang.
"Do you want me to take you home?"
He wasn't sure why exactly — maybe because he wanted his brother to believe that he was okay — but he said no. Josh walked him to his first class, checking in once again before he left him. Trevor shared the same first period, so at least he wouldn't be alone.
Drake didn't pay attention to anything in social studies, which wasn't new. What was new was that he did actually try this time. He wanted his mind to be on something else, but every time he was close to getting distracted, thoughts of Linny would fill his mind, and his eyes would move to the right until he was staring at the desk next to him — her seat. Well, it was her seat.
This had been his only class with Linny. One day, they started talking, then it turned into flirting. She had a cute giggle and an infectious smile; Drake couldn't resist. She had been dating some jock at the time but saw Drake on the side until the secret got out. This had made him unpopular with the football team. Her ex Huntley was known to be aggressive and controlling, so he didn't take the break-up well. He was constantly harassing Drake, even after Drake put an end to the relationship. The rest of the football team had a grudge against him, too, taking Huntley's side. They weren't as excessive about it and mostly only started shit when Huntley was around in order to impress him, but every now and then, they would fuck with him for no reason — just because they could. Drake wasn't used to this new dynamic. He'd never been bullied before, and he wasn't sure if this counted as being bullied exactly, but whatever it was, it was new to him. Luckily, they didn't mess with him when his friends were around, and it wasn't often that he was without at least one of them.
Linny had felt terrible about how Drake was being treated, but he assured her that it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like it was her fault, and he knew being "the other guy" had its risks. He's been that guy plenty of times before after all. In fact, he was always that guy. He didn't exactly seek it out — not consciously — but perhaps there was a method to the madness. Maybe dating girls who were already dating someone else made it less likely that any of them would develop actual feelings for him.
Shit, he thought to himself, somewhat disappointed with his epiphany. Is that what I do?
Suddenly, the young man flinched when Trevor reached forwards and hit the back of his shoulder with his hand. When Drake looked at him, he motioned towards the front, where the teacher stood next to the principal. Both were staring at him.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Principal Winters wants to speak to you in her office," his teacher said, and the class filled with obnoxious ooooooohhh's.
Drake was hesitant to get up, but he did. He grabbed his backpack off of the back of his chair and followed her out. She said nothing as they made their way down the halls and to her office, where two policemen stood. This surprise made the boy skip a step, and he was sure they noticed.
"Have a seat, Drake." Principal Winters motioned towards a chair in front of her desk. However, instead of facing the desk, it was facing the two cops, who remained standing. She sat down in her computer chair, then asked him, "How are you doing?"
"Um, I'm okay," he said for lack of a better answer.
"This is Officer Reznick and Officer Guster. They just want to talk to you for a moment, and then you can go back to class."
"Oh."
"Now Drake — is it okay if I call you Drake?"
The young man nodded as he looked up at the large, balding man.
Reznick continued. "The reason we wanted to talk to you is because we have some news to give you."
Even though he'd already been told of the murder, he waited to be told again. He didn't feel comfortable in this room, which kept him quiet.
"We recently received word that your father Winston Parker escaped from prison."
This shocked him, and his breath was knocked out of him. This was so out of left field that he turned to his principal, as if needing confirmation from someone he somewhat trusted. Of course, there was no reason for the officers to make up such a tale, but Drake could hardly believe it. "What?"
"He was last seen two days ago. We haven't been able to track him down yet."
"And you're just now telling me?!" he asked, his eyes wide with alert. He suddenly became aware of just how much danger he had unknowingly been in over the last couple days. Not just him, but Megan, too. The thought made him sick to his stomach. "Where's my sister?"
"She's in class."
"Someone needs to tell her."
"We will. An officer is there now. Relax." He wasn't trying to come off as rude and patronizing. He just had issues approaching things from anything other than a logical standpoint. Principal Winters understood this and spoke up before Drake could say something that would derail the direction of this conversation.
"Drake," she said in a kind voice, pulling his attention away from the officers and towards her instead. It wasn't a voice he was used to hearing from her. Any other time he had been sent to her office was because he was in trouble, and she had a different tone for those students. Now she sounded empathetic. The change was so unnatural that he preferred the familiarly of the old voice despite the negative connotations that usually came with it. "Would you like to give your sister a call?"
When he nodded, she picked up her phone and dialed the middle school. The middle school was nearby. In fact, the only thing that stood between it and the high school was the football field.
Principal Winters spoke into the phone for a moment, and although he could only hear one side of the unnervingly serious conversation, it sounded like Megan was already present in her own principal's office. She put the phone on speaker, then set it closer to the student.
"Megan?" the boy said unsurely. It occurred to him now that he and his sister never really talked on the phone. They hardly even spoke at all — in person as well. He didn't know what to say, and being on speaker phone made things even more awkward. Perhaps he should've settled for a text, but he needed to hear her voice. That way, he could really gauge how she was doing and whether or not she was safe.
"Hey," she replied. "They just told me about dad."
"Yeah, me, too," said Drake. "Are you okay?"
They weren't close enough for her to show vulnerability in front of him, and he knew that, so he wasn't surprised when she said she was. She sounded believable, but he knew how strong of a person his little sister was. She rarely broke. She rarely opened up. At least, not in front of him, and perhaps that was his fault, seeing as how he'd pretty much iced her out this past year. He hadn't meant to be cruel. He'd had his reasons.
Because the silence was lasting so long (even the eavesdroppers could feel the awkwardness), Megan decided to break it. "I heard about what happened to your ex. Everyone's talking about it here. Are you okay?"
Drake hadn't intended on hiding the fact that he'd dated Linny Tifton, but after he felt the shift in the room, he wished Megan wouldn't have said anything. The officers looked on curiously now, their foreheads scrunched with thought and suspicion. He felt like he was in a lot of trouble as all eyes now watched his every move.
"I'm fine," he answered his sister.
"Are you sur—"
"Yeah. I've gotta go, but I'll see you at home."
"Oh. Okay. Bye."
Drake lifted his eyes to the principal, letting her know that he was done. She pulled the phone back and hung it up.
"So Melanie Tifton was your girlfriend?" Officer Reznick started in.
"Ex," Drake corrected, trying to distance himself from the deceased as much as he could. Usually, he didn't give Linny this label. In fact, he always claimed that they never dated at all. Technically, no verbal confirmation had been made between the two of them, but everyone still called her his ex, and now that she was dead, he felt that she deserved to be remembered rather than discarded like the other girls he had dated. Linny really was special, and if it wasn't for his commitment issues, perhaps things could've worked out between them.
"And how long were you two together?" Reznick asked, and Officer Guster pulled out a notepad so that he could jot down a few notes.
"Just a couple months."
"What was the reason for the split?"
Drake hesitated. He didn't want to tell these strangers about his emotional problems because he felt embarrassed by them, as if it showed weakness. "Is that really your business?"
Principal Winters offered some assistance. "Drake, they just want to understand what happened so Melanie's poor parents can find some semblance of peace. Answering their questions would greatly help them with that."
He sighed, then contemplated on how truthful he should be. "She was starting to catch feelings, and I wasn't really into her like that."
Guster spoke now, but he never looked up from his pad. "By catch feelings, you mean...?"
"She said she loved me."
Officer Reznick took over. "So if you weren't dating her because you liked her—"
"I did like her. Just...not in that way."
"Then in what way? Why were you dating Melanie Tifton?"
He was honestly just as clueless of the answer as they were. It was just who he was. He asked a girl out, they went on a few dates, and then he ended things at the first sign of real feelings, whether from himself or from the other party. However, he would rather say anything other than this. Drake nervously glanced at his principal, who offered an encouraging nod, then he turned back to the policemen, but lowered his eyes.
"I heard she put out."
"Put out? Like...?"
"You know..." God, this was so awkward. "D.T.F."
"Oh, down to...have sex."
He nodded and his face felt hot. He refused to make eye contact with Principal Winters.
"So Ms. Tifton refused to have sex with you, leading you to break up with her."
He sounded like such an asshole, but it was better than the alternative: a weak coward. "Yes," he answered quietly.
"What was that?"
He couldn't keep from rolling his eyes as he lifted his head. He finally looked at him, faking confidence in his bullshit response. "Yes."
"Was she widely known around school to be someone who often 'put out'?"
Drake was okay with coming off as one thing to avoid being another, but when it came to tarnishing someone else's reputation, that was a whole other thing completely. Linny was a nice Christian girl, and if he said otherwise — if he lied — then that would break her parents' hearts even more.
"No," he said.
"But I thought you said you heard she was?"
He felt like they were trying to catch him in a lie, and he got nervous. His hands were sweaty, but he avoided the urge to wipe them off on his pants because they were probably watching for any tells they could to point the finger at him. It occurred to him now. "Am I a suspect?" Suddenly, the bell rang, causing him to twitch. He could hear the hallway outside filling with muffled voices.
"Not at the moment. We're just talking. Calm down."
However, he was anything but calm. He shifted to the edge of his seat as if moving closer to them made him seem more honest. Instead, he looked less relaxed. "Look, Linny was a great person. We just wanted different things in a relationship, so I ended it. It's no big deal."
Principal Winters saw that he was getting worked up and said, "I think that's enough questions for today. Don't you, officers?" She knew they would have to agree because, technically, interrogating him without his stepfather's permission could get them into trouble. "Drake, why don't you go on to your next class?"
He didn't argue. The student stood, grabbed his book bag and went for the door.
"One more thing," Officer Reznick said. "Did Ms. Tifton ever say anything to you that seemed off?"
He furrowed his brows. "Like what?"
"Like, did she say she was scared of someone or thought something bad would happen."
"No."
"Thank you, Drake," the principal said. "That'll be all."
He usually wasn't a fan of Principal Winters because she was always doling out harsh punishments, but today, he was grateful for her presence. Drake exited the office and absently walked down the hall, his mind replaying everything he had just heard. His father escaped prison, his ex is dead, and he might just be a suspect. Could this day get any worse?
As he walked down the hall, he realized that things had gotten pretty quiet other than some scattered whispers. Students were staring at him as he passed, and he wondered if they thought he'd done it, too. His heart pounded against his chest as he went, passing his own locker without stopping.
"Drake!" Josh called from somewhere behind him. "Hey, wait up."
He did, then his stepbrother grabbed his arm and pulled him into a little nook in between one end of the lockers and a wall. "What's going on? I heard you got called out of class."
"Yeah, um..." He noticed that the hallway was gradually going back to its normal volume. Still, he remained quiet. "They said my dad broke out of prison."
"What?!" His eyebrows were scrunched, and he was just as shocked and confused as Drake had been. "Oh my God. Are you okay?"
"I don't know," he said. He didn't have enough time to process it all yet. He was having a hard enough time focusing on this conversation because he kept looking at the duos and trios of students who passed by, staring and whispering to one another, pointing as if he couldn't see them.
"Do they think he's dangerous? Like, would he do something to you?"
That was the question Drake had been pushing away since he found out about the news. He knew the horrors that man — his blood — was capable of. Was it freedom he was seeking? Or vengeance? And if it was the latter, how far would he go to get it?
He continued watching his fellow peers pass by, but now with fear dominating the discomfort. His dad could be in the crowd, watching him. He could round the corner at any moment, and Drake would be completely defenseless.
"Drake?" Josh said, getting his attention.
The young man shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. Look, I'm gonna skip."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Josh asked with disapproval.
"I can't fucking stay here with everyone staring at me like this. I didn't do anything, Josh."
"I know. I know you didn't. I just feel like, with your dad out there—"
"I'll text you when I get home so you know I'm safe. I just gotta get out of here."
Josh sighed. "Okay. Don't forget."
"I won't."
They parted ways, and Drake headed toward an exit. Everyone continued to stare at him and gossip quietly as he passed. He repositioned his bag over his shoulder and walked faster. Drake felt a small bit of relief when he made it outside. There was no one around, but he still needed to be quick so that he wouldn't get caught. Therefore, he kept his pace. When he rounded a corner, however, he collided with someone and was knocked down.
"Watch it!" came a male voice. "Oh, it's you."
Drake looked up and saw Huntley, Linny's ex. He was smoking marijuana out of a makeshift pipe that had been constructed with an empty soda can, and he was joined by a couple of his football player friends. Drake pushed himself onto his feet.
"Well, guys, look who's cutting class."
The young man tried to walk past them, but his shoulder was grabbed, and he was slung against the brick wall.
"Not so fast. I heard you had an interview with a cop."
"Not really." He stepped forward but was shoved against the brick harder this time and firmly held there.
"What did you tell them about me?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying." He was keeping his cool, but on the inside, he was kind of scared. He was popular and never really had to deal with bullies before. He was scrawny and small, and compared to these jocks, he was as thin as a single sheet of paper. Drake had never been in a fight before, but he knew that, if he did get into one, he would have his ass handed to him.
Huntley's piercing blue eyes glared into his, mere inches away. Drake gazed back, wondering if they were going to jump him. That's all he needed to officially make this the worst day ever. However, the tall jock just gave him a few rough pats on the cheek.
"Good boy," he said. "Keep it that way. Or else."
Before he knew what was happening, Drake found himself on the ground again, and there was laughter behind him. He clenched his teeth, wanting so badly to stand up to Huntley. He hated being told what to do. He was never one to follow the rules. However, there was nothing he could do. It was three against one, and even if it was just a one-on-one match, he would still lose. Still, it was almost worth getting the shit beaten out of him just to stand up for himself, but it wasn't worth getting caught skipping out on the rest of his classes.
Drake grabbed his bag and pushed himself to his feet, then he swallowed his pride and started walking away with his tail between his legs.
By the time Drake arrived home, he had a migraine. The first thing he did was grab the Tylenol out of the kitchen cabinet and down a couple. He was home alone, so the lights were out, and he preferred it that way. The sun came through the windows, making it so that he could see well without turning on a lamp. Drake moved into the living room and plopped down on the couch with a sigh. He'd probably get in trouble for ditching later, but there was no use worrying about that now. He should be cut some slack anyway after the morning he's had.
The young man reached for the remote, hoping to distract himself with a nice comedy or something. When he pressed the power button, Walter's face popped up.
"—nice and sunny out, but a cold front coming as the fall temperatures move in, so make sure to grab your jackets before you head outside."
"Thanks for that, Walter," a lady said. "Onto our next story tonight. A shocking murder rocks Woodsboro High—"
Drake changed the channel, but this one wasn't any better.
"—and police are investigating the death of Melanie Tifton, a high school track star, and John—"
"—parents found her and her fellow classmate after coming home that evening—"
"—stabbed six times. This is the most vicious attack we've seen since last year's brutal murder of beloved wife and mother Audrey Nichols."
Drake felt his heart drop into his stomach when a picture of his mom appeared on the screen. She was smiling so wide that her eyes sparkled. He remembered this photo. It had been taken on Christmas three years ago. They didn't show the image for more than a few seconds, and Drake was wishing he'd gotten a longer look at it. He even subconsciously moved forwards in his seat as if that would bring him closer to her. He could've looked at that face forever. He missed his mom so much, and seeing her again when he wasn't expecting it brought up the emotions he'd been trying to keep buried. He wouldn't let himself cry. He wasn't going to break.
"Ex husband Winston Parker has been awaiting trial for the murder after eyewitness testimony placed him at the scene of the crime, but in an unexpected turn of events, we've been told that he escaped prison two days ago."
Now a photo of the man's mugshot popped up. He had short, dark-brown hair and eyes just as dark. Like Drake's, but there was an edge to them — one that brought goosebumps to the back of the boy's neck. The main features — eyes, nose, lips — mirrored his, but despite this, Megan resembled him more closely. She was almost a spitting image of their father, and although she could be evil at times when tormenting her older brother, she could never hurt Drake like their father had.
"Police are asking you to call if you have any information on his whereabouts. They say not to approach him, for he may be armed and dangerou—"
Drake turned off the television and laid down on the couch, massaging his temples in hopes that his headache would ease off.
He found himself walking up the driveway, but his father's vehicle wasn't still parked like it had been before he'd left. It was dark now. Walter would be home soon, so of course his father was gone. Drake was grounded (the first semester of school had just ended, and his report card showed that he was already failing two of his classes), so perhaps he shouldn't have left. After all, he'd walked out and slammed the door, making sure his parents knew that he was leaving due to the man's presence. He couldn't stand his father, and the fact that he'd shown up out of the blue when Walter wasn't home seemed rather convenient.
Drake had listened in for a while from the staircase while the two sat down in the living room. It was almost like he was a little kid again, eavesdropping on an argument. Winston wanted to see his kids. This was the last thing Drake wanted, but he wondered if Megan felt the same way. She was too young to remember his violent side. Besides, when the liquor made Winston a little too fist-happy, Drake would take his younger sister out back, like his mom had instructed. She never witnessed the things he had.
This wasn't the first time the man had arrived unannounced to try and visit his kids. He always had bouts of sobriety and came to his senses. The first time Audrey found the courage to leave, he reeled her back in with his bullshit apologies and tears. Gradually, the abuse started up again until it was just as bad as it had been before. Still, Audrey stuck it through up until the day Winston had grabbed his son and started in on him with his belt. He did this because Drake had gotten tired of watching his mom take a beating, so, at eleven years old, he starting punching Winston, despite Audrey's protests.
Drake had received several brutal lashings before his mother had convinced his father to leave him alone and take his anger out on her instead. He could still remember the whipping sound of the belt as it broke through the air speedily. He could still feel the sting on his skin.
Every now and then, Winston would try to apologize so that he could see his children, but his ex-wife always refused, and Drake was glad for that. He didn't want anything to do with that miserable fuck. There would always be a long discussion, then Winston would promise that he would prove to her that he could stay sober for some length of time and come back. He never did, though. Not until this latest time. He was still sober after two months and was holding down a decent job. He seemed rather proud of his accomplishments, and even Audrey sounded as though she might be buying into it, so that's why Drake stormed out the door and slammed it. He wanted to make it known that he didn't want anything to do with that monster.
Drake entered the house, and even though his father's car was gone, he checked the living room as if he would still see him there, begging for a chance to see his children and apologizing about how he used to behave when he was drunk. However, the living room was empty.
"Mom?" he said as he peeked into the kitchen. He wanted to know what answer she had given the man. No matter what she said, though, he refused to spend time with his father. He wouldn't fucking do it. "Mom?" he tried again.
Drake started to make his way upstairs and wondered if talking to her now was such a good idea. If she had gotten angry or irritated with Winston, she might take it out on her son and ground him even longer for leaving. He had to know, though. He had to know if she'd sold their time to an undeserving buyer.
It seemed most reasonable in his mind for the woman to be in her bedroom, if not the bathroom. However, he could see through the crack in the bottom of the bathroom door that the light was off.
"Mom?" He gave a short knock on her bedroom door and paused just a moment, giving her time to tell him to wait if she was in the process of changing or something. He received no protest, though, so he opened her door, and the second he did so, he lost his breath.
Blood was splattered all over the wallpaper, reaching from the floor all the way to the ceiling. There were different sized puddles of red on the carpet and broken glass scattered around the floor. In the bed lay his mother, naked and covered in blood. Drake rushed over to her.
"Mom?!" He shook her shoulder as he looked down at her, but her open, empty eyes continued staring at the crimson-streaked wall. "No, Mom, no!" He looked down at her body although he felt like he was violating her by doing so. He needed to see the stab wound so that he could apply pressure and stop the bleeding, but there were too many, and he only had two hands. He knew it was useless anyway. She was already gone. That didn't stop him from putting his hand over a deep cut on the left side of her stomach, though. He felt the need to do something, and this is all his mind could come up with at the moment. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" He was sobbing now, and he felt like he couldn't breathe as he hyperventilated. He leaned over her face and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Don't do this! Please don't do this! Mom, please! Please!" He moved his useless hand away from the slice in her stomach and pulled Audrey's head onto his lap, holding her in his arms. He petted the side of her head and, as he did this, blood from his fingers smeared across her cheek. "Oh God!" he choked. "Oh God, Mom!" Drake pulled her against his chest and held her tightly, her head at his neck. He couldn't help but notice the way her arm hung limply as he rocked her back and forth, like she used to do to him when he was a kid and got hurt in a fall.
"Drake?"
Suddenly, the boy froze. The hair on the back of his neck stretched toward the red-splattered ceiling as if being attracted by electricity, and chills traveled up his spine. It couldn't be...could it? Could she still be...? Slowly, he straightened and looked down at the body he was holding, scared of what he might find. Sure enough, she was staring right up at him now.
"Drake," came out of her lips, plain as day, "why did you leave?"
"W-what?" he choked.
"Why weren't you here for your mother?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say. Fresh tears dripped down his cheeks.
"You left me alone. You shouldn't have left me alone, Drake."
"I..."
"Why did you leave me alone? You don't love your mother, Drake?"
"I do!" came out strangled because the lump in his throat made it hard to speak. "I do!"
His vision was too blurred to see anything, so he used his bloody hands to clear his eyes. When he looked down at his mom's face again, she looked as if she were buried underground. Her face was pale. She had worms wriggling in her mouth and roaches skittering out of her sunken eyeballs. Maggots fell out of her nostrils and rolled out on the bloody, disheveled bedspread.
The sight was enough to wake the sleeping teen. Drake gasped as his eyes flew open, and he shot up on the couch like a bullet. Once he realized where he was, he exhaled, then tried to steady his breathing. "Shit," he mumbled, turning on the couch so he could put his feet on the floor. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and rubbed his tired eyes.
It was night out. He could tell because it was really dark around him, and no light was shining through the windows. Maybe he should've opted to turn on a lamp before. It was honestly kind of spooky, especially after the dream he'd just had. He was the only one here still, which made it even more unsettling. Josh had told him earlier that morning that he had to work, he was sure Megan either had oboe practice or was at a friend's, and Walter... Walter usually got off around five, unless there was some "big weather story". It didn't sound like it was raining, though, so he should've been home by now. Drake reached for his phone to check the time and see how late his stepfather was but noticed that it wasn't on the coffee table where he'd left it. His brows furrowed, and he checked the end table beside him, then the couch. Finally, he stood and felt between the cushions before removing them completely.
"Shit," he mumbled. He could only see a little, so he could very well be overlooking it. Drake reached over toward the lamp and turned it on, then continued his search after moving another cushion to the side. "Damn it."
He decided it would be best just to call his cell phone. He grabbed the cordless home phone off of the end table and dialed his number. It wasn't long before he heard his rock and roll ringtone emanating from somewhere behind him. His forehead creased with confusion as he turned in the direction of the staircase, and for a moment, he found that he didn't want to move. Had he gone over there after arriving home? He didn't think so. Maybe he'd been so tired that he'd sleepwalked over there. He had slept nearly the whole day after all, which wasn't surprising after his restless slumber last night.
You know what? This was probably just his sister playing some prank on him. It had been a while, and she was long overdue. Finally, he started moving, although slowly, but by the time he got near the dining room table, the music stopped. He was about to dial again when he noticed that the front door was open. Drake felt his heart beating fast against his chest.
"Megan?" he said, although he wouldn't expect her to answer even if she was nearby. "This isn't funny, okay? Cut it out."
Surely, she would have enough sense not to do something like this, what with everything that's been going on today. He was sure that's why she had been abnormally peaceful all month. The anniversary of their mother's death was soon.
However, if she was pranking him and was spying on him from some hiding spot, he didn't want to appear cowardly, so he made his way over to the door and stepped outside. Drake looked around for something strange — something out of place — although he wasn't sure what it was he was supposed to find. Everything seemed to be the way it always was. The young man then called his cell phone again, and again, he heard that same rock song, but it wasn't coming from outside. It was coming from...the downstairs bathroom?
Drake turned and stared at the destination he needed to go to. This was all very bizarre, and he felt a little scared, but he knew that, if he could just get his phone and call someone he knew — a friend or something — then he would feel so much more at ease. People won't normally mess with you if you're on the phone because there would be a witness listening. Right?
Okay, so all he had to do was man up and grab his phone, then he would call Stephen or maybe Josh. That would make him feel safe. He was sure he could convince his stepbrother to go on break and pick him up. Despite how Drake had felt earlier that morning, he would feel a lot better being surrounded by a bunch of other people. Besides, his friends were probably hanging out at the Premier, too.
The boy mustered all the courage he could, then headed back inside. He shut and locked all three locks on the door behind him, then continued moving toward the music. "Megan?" he tried again. When he was standing in front of the bathroom door, he reached for the knob slowly. That's when he noticed that his hands were shaking. He took in a breath and held it as he mentally hyped himself up, and then he opened the door.
It was dark inside, so he couldn't see much, but it seemed empty. Drake stepped forward just enough to flip on the light switch, then he looked to his right. Of course his phone was in the tub. Why wouldn't it be in the tub? This had to be Megan's work. Who else would do this?
Despite how frightened he was, he felt pretty confident that he would find his little sister behind that curtain, so he didn't let himself get caught up in the suspense. Drake whipped the shower curtain back fast, hoping that he could scare Megan and give her a taste of her own medicine. However, there was nothing there. Nothing but his cell phone. The music stopped playing, leaving him in eerie silence.
He felt dumb and confused, but at least he had his phone now. He picked it up so that he could call Josh, but the second it was in his hands, he heard a ding! This made him flinch, and he almost dropped it. He looked at the screen and saw that he had a message from UNKNOWN ID. The young man opened it, then read the text.
We'll begin with a reign of terror.
Just then, he heard the door slam loudly behind him. His heart dropped into his stomach, and when he whipped around, he came face-to-face with a monster.
