When Corrigan and Bryce were on their third helping, Corrigan's parents sat down and started on their own breakfast.
Mrs. Raimler cleared her throat as she patted the curlers in her hair. She commented, "Bryce, your mother called here. She was very worried, but don't fret. We told her you were here. You and Corrigan were upset about some news of a classmate. She agreed with me that it was best for you to stay with your friends."
Bryce and Corrigan. No mention of me. Thank god.
Bryce met my eyes in shared amusement and relief. If AnnaBelle Scout knew of my presence, she would've dragged Bryce back to her home, never to be seen again.
I shuddered at the thought.
"Sheldon, honey, I'll ready one of the guest bedrooms for you. Harve can drive you over to your house if you'd like to grab some clothes and toiletries."
Bryce spoke up, "Uh…I'll take her later. That's okay." He glanced at Corrigan and I knew both of them weren't planning on letting me out of their sight.
"Bryce, you can sleep in the other guest bedroom downstairs."
Corrigan hid a smile.
The Raimler household had guest bedrooms all over their home. There were a few on the bedroom floor. A few on the main floor. And two downstairs. We were both downstairs, right next door to each other.
I didn't think it was by chance we had rooms beside each other.
"Thank you, Mrs. Raimler."
"Oh—it's Katrice, Bryce. Get it right next time." She smiled warmly and patiently.
Bryce nodded.
"You always call me Mrs. Raimler and I always feel like your grandmother. I'm not that old, Bryce."
"No, you're not, Mrs. Raimler."
"Bryce Elliot Scout," she said firmly, feigning outrage.
I snorted.
Bryce just grinned and kept eating.
Chapter 16
The rest of the day was spent around Corrigan's house. We all took turns at Guitar Hero. Corrigan was the best, no surprise. Bryce hadn't spent as much time playing it since, until last week, everything centered around soccer.
I sucked. That was all there was to it, but for my defense—my mind was elsewhere.
After awhile, I padded into the guest bedroom and curled into a dreamless sleep. I kept fighting it because I hadn't wanted nightmares, but I was grateful when I woke up with no dreams and no nightmares.
Bryce knocked on my door and poked his head inside.
"Hey. Corr and I are going to go out for a little bit. Wanna come?"
"Where are you going?"
"Harris' parents are out of town for the whole weekend. I think some of the guys are going to hang out, maybe shoot pool."
I could stay and do nothing.
I got up and yawned, "Yeah. Can we stop at my place to get some clothes?"
"Sure," Bryce left to tell Corrigan the plan and within another few minutes, Corrigan was driving us to my house.
As we pulled into the driveway, I asked, "Did anyone find Mena last night?"
Bryce murmured, watching their house, "No, but she must've gotten home alright. There she is."
And there she was. She had already crossed her lawn and was just entering mine. She was there by the time we got out of the car.
"Hey," she said brightly.
Bryce ignored her while I murmured a half-hearted hello. Corrigan took my keys and let us inside.
"How'd you get home last night?"
"Yeah. That," Mena exclaimed, flushed. "Sorry about Denton. I actually…I went to another party last night."
"How? I drove."
"I caught a ride. They told me about the party and it sounded fun. No Collette Chantal or Becky Lew at that party to torment me."
I glared at Bryce's back.
"So," Mena continued. "It was fun."
"Whose party?" Corrigan asked, reserved.
"Grace Barton. Her and her brother, Tim, threw a party." At our blank faces, she explained, "They're in a different crowd."
"Who?" Corrigan asked what we all wondered.
"Tim Barton…he's a swimmer. And Grace is in theater."
"I know Barton," Corrigan said slowly, frowning. "He's a douche and his sister's not hot."
There it was. Corrigan had quickly classified Mena's new friends as 'losers.' Bryce had already set up the fall and Mena had fallen last night into the arms of lesser social levels.
Judging by the embarrassed flush, Mena had already known it. It was just another kick in the gut when Corrigan has said it out loud.
"You guys are bastards," I flared and brushed past them.
"What'd I say?" Corrigan asked.
I darted up the stairs, but I heard Bryce mutter, "Nothing. Let it go."
Mena followed not long later and watched as I packed a bag of clothes. She sat on the bed and asked, "Where are you going this time?"
"I'm staying at Corrigan's tonight."
Her eyebrow arched.
"It's not like that. Bryce and I are both staying there."
She asked as she glanced at her hands, "What? You don't want to live next door to me?"
"No." I changed into a gold slinky shirt that was transparent at the midriff. It was covered by another transparent white sweater that was tailored for me.
"I heard about Leisha Summers," Mena declared and watched me intently. "She was a friend of yours, right?"
I paused and looked at her. "How'd you hear about her?"
"It's all over. I got eight calls today about it and I'm not even popular."
"Yeah. So?"
"So the word is that you and Bryce found her."
It was funny because when I looked at her, she didn't look shocked, perturbed, a little sick. Nothing. She looked like she was holding a regular conversation about the weather or a party that night.
Maybe I shouldn't complain about Bryce's insights as much.
I shrugged. "Yeah. So?" It was becoming my trademark.
"Do you want to talk about it? I mean, with a girlfriend. It can't be all that sharing with those two downstairs. They don't strike me as the feelings type."
How funny it was.
"I'm good. Thanks." I finished dressing and grabbed my bag and purse.
"Hey, so…is that it?" Mena stood.
"Is what what?"
"I thought we were friends. You're blowing me off."
"No," I said patiently. "I don't want to talk about it. That's different from blowing you off. And we are friends."
"No, we aren't," Mena said shortly. "I know that you'd like to be, but those two downstairs just vetoed that. Corrigan's never rude to a girl unless she's a social outcast. I've been cast out."
She was right and I didn't know what to do about it.
"Never mind. Your lack of speech just told me everything." Mena sighed and left. The downstairs door slammed a moment later and I jumped from the force of it.
I slumped on the bed and that was how the guys found me. Dejected. And feeling weird that I felt dejected.
They just watched me, framed in the doorway.
Bryce raised an eyebrow and asked, "Wanna go shoot pool?"
"Please," I groaned and followed them out.
When we arrived, I remarked sardonically, my gaze on the eight cars in Harris' driveway, "This is a party."
"Looks like."
Bryce chuckled.
"You said some of the guys were getting together to shoot pool. That's Lew's car. She's not one of the guys."
Corrigan shrugged. He grabbed the door handle and threw over his shoulder, "I didn't know. Don't crucify me."
When we walked in, everything stopped. Literally. One guy was even pouring a cup of beer and he stopped—mid-pour. The liquid didn't stop, but he did. He slammed the pitcher on the table and gaped at us. If it had been under different circumstances, it would've been hilarious.
Under our circumstances, I growled. "Looking at someone?"
Everyone scrambled and that was how the rest of the night proceeded. Corrigan and Bryce joked with some of the guys. Most of the girls left, but only after they were ignored by the guys. Collette Chantal tried to rub against Bryce, but he easily shrugged her off and then stayed beside me the rest of the night. It was only later, much later when they brought it up.
Corrigan had dropped down beside me on the couch. Bryce sat in front of me with my fingers entangled in his hair. And I was a bit drowsy from the booze.
Harris was the spokesperson when nearly everyone had mingled their way out the door.
"Did that chick look deformed or anything?" He belched the question as he finished his too-many beer.
Bryce tensed.
I tensed and lifted my head, now awake.
Everyone stopped again and looked at us. They wanted the answer. Even Corrigan watched us intently.
I yanked slightly on Bryce's hair and he remarked, "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Harris looked around. "What'd she look like? It could've been any of us that found her."
"She was dead," Bryce said flatly.
"Was she…we heard she was raped. Was she? Could you tell?"
"Go to a morgue. She looked like that," I said briskly.
"If she was raped, then we should know."
"Why?" I asked bitterly. "So that you can stop this supposed rapist from doing it again? It doesn't matter. She's dead." I sat up. "He's going to do it again. You can't stop him. No one can stop him."
Corrigan looked at me.
Bryce shifted to look at me. I didn't feel his silken hair between my fingers anymore.
I ignored them and continued on a rant, "If the police can't find him, you can't. You might as well go on about your life. Forget you ever knew anything. He's not going to be stopped. He's going to do it again and again and again…" My voice dropped with each word as I felt hope dwindle.
I didn't know the hope had even been there or what it was for.
Corrigan stood up and announced, "I'm drunk. Who's going to drive us home?"
Everyone was still staring at me.
Bryce stood and lifted me over his shoulder.
"Oomph!"
As he smacked my butt, everyone started to laugh…in comedic relief.
"Bryce," I gasped.
He grinned cockily and murmured loudly, "Keep saying it, baby. All night."
They laughed again and the pitcher of beer was passed around the room again.
Corrigan caught it and downed the rest. When he finished, he asked again, "Seriously. Who's driving us?"
Carlos stood up and said quietly, "I will. I'm sober."
Talking started up and Carlos walked ahead of us with Corrigan's arm thrown over his shoulders. He had given me one tentative grin before he grabbed his keys and headed outside.
I'd forgotten about him. In fact, I hadn't even known he was at Harris'.
Carlos had been the one to call Leisha in the first place—at my insistence.
I swallowed painfully as Bryce lowered me to the ground.
At the car, Bryce slid in the back. I was right behind Carlos and Corrigan had turned so he faced all of us at the same time. He threw his arm over the seat and started talking about how Becky Lew ranked among his conquests. He was fully divulging the evidentiary points of slot number four when Carlos pulled his car to the curb just outside Corrigan's house.
It was then that I realized, "Nice. I was going to stay sober so I could drive my car tomorrow. Now none of us have cars here."
Corrigan shrugged and murmured, "We'll figure it out. I'll make Stephen drive us over tomorrow."
"I have my bag in your car," I glared.
He smirked and pointed out, "Like you're going to be wearing clothes tonight anyway."
Carlos looked out the window, I scowled, and Bryce didn't blink.
Corrigan rolled his eyes and shot out of the car. "See you later, losers."
I stayed and Bryce looked between me to Carlos. He said, "I'm going in, make sure Corrigan doesn't decide to light his house on fire."
It wasn't even an excuse.
The car was silent between us when Bryce shut his door behind him.
Carlos and I weren't the quiet ones, it was the car, definitely the car.
He broke it when he said, hesitantly, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" I frowned.
"For calling her. It wouldn't have happened if…" If he hadn't called her.
"That's not true," I said quietly. "It would've happened anyway, but to someone else. Or to her…later."
"How do you know that?"
Because he did it to get at me. I couldn't tell Carlos that.
I shrugged. "Trust me. These types…they always find someone else."
Carlos didn't say anything as the motor hummed.
He was a good kid. I could see that. I leaned forward and said softly, "She really liked you. I could tell."
Carlos didn't say anything.
"It wasn't your fault. He did it. Not you. He did." Just like he was doing everything else. I told myself that when I walked to the house. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault.
Corrigan had waited for me when I walked into the house. He let go the curtain and jumped off the couch. When I locked the door, he said quietly, "Just making sure, you know."
I shrugged, but the nonchalance wouldn't set with me. It meant more than I could ever fathom for that little action.