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Laughter smattered across the auditorium, but Bryce took his time finishing our kiss before he lazily looked up and called out, "We're good. Thanks."
Principal Gregory coughed in disapproval and I slid off Bryce's lap.
"Thank you, Miss Jeneve, for putting our good tax payers' money to use. Chairs are meant to be sat upon."
"They're not as comfortable," I replied and I saw Principal Gregory hide a grin while the students broke out in laughter.
Principal Gregory nodded, "Thank you for pointing that out, Miss Jeneve, but that is not why we all have come together in this auditorium."
With those words, I was forgotten.
Principal Gregory looked over the auditorium and took a deep breath. It changed the atmosphere and everyone quieted. We all just waited.
"I am sure, by now, that everyone has heard the recent events that occurred over the weekend. Some schools would not openly address the tragic loss that we have experienced from the death of Leisha Summers, but I disagree. I have invited the local Sheriff to address some questions we all may be feeling and Miss Connors will have her own say about how to handle some of those emotions that you might be experiencing. After school, we will adjourn our last period thirty minutes earlier where a silent candle vigil will take place in the parking lot in memory of Leisha Summers." He nodded once and said, "With that—Sheriff Adley."
Sheriff Adley wasn't there to speak about Leisha's murder. He was there to address further safety in the community. He repeated most of what Corrigan had mocked, but without the buddy system. He said to be smart when leaving your home at night. Check in when you leave and always give an estimated time when you're to arrive and where. Make sure to check in again after you've arrived. Pepper spray is a weapon of choice among many police officers, its use wasn't deadly and still effective. Don't walk in any area with poor lighting. Park your vehicle under streetlights. Watch over your shoulder and if you feel someone is following, don't be afraid to call 911.
After he opened the forum for questions, he gave no comment on all the questions that were about Leisha. He only replied that his staff and deputies were pursing all avenues and hope to make an arrest in the near future.
Disappointment transcended the auditorium, but it was understood.
Miss Connors took the podium next and spoke about how to handle grief.
I tuned her out and left through the back door.
Mr. Sayword wasn't surprised when he saw my entrance in the art room.
The room was empty except for the two of us and he nodded in sympathy, "I'm sorry, Sheldon. I heard that you found your friend."
I shrugged and moved into the darkroom.
It didn't matter that it wasn't my film that I developed. My hands needed to be busy and moving.
After the second bell rang, I heard the murmur of voices on the other side of the door.
I sighed, replaced the camera I'd been holding, and left. Students were lingering around the tables.
I plopped on the nearest empty one and remained there, content to be alone when I heard a soft voice beside me, "Hey." She was teeny tiny with soft golden hair that surrounded a pointed nose. Her eyes consumed too much of her face. And she had the barest hint of lips I'd ever seen.
I studied her a moment, searched my database, and then said abruptly, "I have no idea who you are."
She flushed and hugged her books tighter to her chest. "I'm Grace Barton."
"You're Mena's new friend," I announced as comprehension flooded me.
Caution flashed over her features again and I got the distinct impression that a burst of wind could've knocked her over. "Yeah," She sighed and moved closer. "That's why I came over here."
"What do you want?" I asked flatly after she'd taken a few breaths for bravery.
She jumped slightly at my question, but rolled her eyes in self-condemnation. "I'm here because Mena's really hurt by what you did."
"I didn't do anything to her."
"She said that you're not friends with her because Bryce and Corrigan don't like her."
I laughed and remarked dryly, "She's gotta be pretty stupid to screw that up. Mena's hot. Corrigan always likes hot girls, but if she did something to piss him off—then that's on her, not me. I don't tell them who to like and who not to like."
Grace looked like she was about to fall over again.
"And you didn't help the situation," I said flatly.
Grace frowned and asked, timidly, "What do you mean?"
"You're a social loser. If you want Mena to be liked by me, Corrigan, and Bryce—she shouldn't be hanging out with people like you and your brother. Whoever invited her to your party saw that she'd already been outcasted. Mena could've fought it and been fine, but you guys sent her the invitation because you saw someone 'cool' who could be in your crowd."
Grace gasped and swayed on her feet.
I stood up. "Look, I'm not saying this to be mean. I'm just saying it because it's true. And I'm not going to be duped into feeling guilty that Mena has some hurt feelings. She knows the deal. If she wants back in, she's gotta earn that respect. The rules apply to everyone."
"Sheldon," Mr. Sayword spoke up, across the classroom.
I turned and saw Corrigan at the door, watching me.
"Yeah?" I asked. I saw a note in Mr. Sayword's hand.
"You're wanted in the counselor's office."
My eyes caught and held Corrigan's. We both thought the same thing, group therapy time.
"Fine," I muttered and left the room. Corrigan fell in step beside me when he asked, "What was that about in there?"
"Just telling a social loser that she's a social loser." I remarked.
Three other students were there and we saw Bryce lounging against the wall. His eyes sharpened when he saw us and he pushed off from the wall. Corrigan booted the students off the couch and we sat down instead. Bryce leaned on the armrest near me until Miss Connors stuck her head out and gestured for all three of us.
"Come on back, guys." She said, friendly.
She'd set up three plush chairs around her office and I saw, surprised, that it was cleaner than my last visit. Miss Connors looked tired, but professional with her outfit spot-clean and pristine.
She looked like a therapist.
"So," she breathed out and sent another warm smile at us. At me. "How are you guys doing?"
Corrigan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he remarked, "I'm having a hard time handling all the emotional distress that my two best friends have recently undertaken due to the traumatic loss that they witnessed."
Bryce and I both laughed.
A grin slipped past Corrigan's lips, but he added as he attempted to sound vulnerable, "I feel left out because I wasn't there when they found her body, but I realized over the weekend that this was a pattern that's been constructed since Bryce and Sheldon started sleeping together. Isn't there a term for that? Peer isolation?"
I fought a grin, but Miss Connors rolled with it. She nodded and asked, "And when did that start?"
Bryce spoke this time, "First time we screwed was in freshman."
"I remember." Corrigan nodded. "It was that party when Trevor Bently thought he could score with Sheldon and you told him that she'd be busy with you instead."
Bryce grinned. "And he punched me, hit like a girl."
There had been no Trevor Bently, punching, or party when Bryce and I had first slept together. And that's why I loved my two best friends so much. They were lying for me. She knew it. And they continued to lie.
Miss Connors shifted in her seat and stared at me. "I'm glad that you think this is a joke because I'm sure your friend would've thought the same about you. Wait—no, she wouldn't have. Your friend probably would've cried if it had been you instead of her. How do you feel about that, Sheldon?"
Bryce commented, "You're a great counselor. You make people feel like shit."
"No doubt," Corrigan added his two cents.
"And when the two o
f you stop talking for Sheldon, maybe we can actually get somewhere instead of all three of you jerking my chain," Miss Connors said briskly. "Sheldon, I asked you a question. How do you think Leisha would've reacted if your places were switched?"
Bryce opened his mouth again, but Miss Connors cut him off. "I want to hear Sheldon's voice. She's got one."
He closed his mouth and leaned back.
I leaned forward and said simply, "The difference between Leisha and me is that she was a decent person. I'm not."
Miss Connors was cool when she asked, "So is this your martyr bit? Am I suppose to tell you how great and wonderful you are, how much potential you have? I've already said that. If you choose to listen or believe me, then that's on you. It's your life at the end of the day. You're the one who falls asleep at night, but you still haven't answered my question. How do you think Leisha would've reacted?"
"I can't answer that because I'm not Leisha."
