Good Old Boys

17 - A Home Cooked Meal, A Picket Fence & Evidence

Will walked home as nonchalant as possible, waving back at several juniors, stopping to chat with a few freshmen who questioned him about extra credit assignments, and thanking Tanner for his very helpful advice that morning. He caught a group of sophomores gathered around a bench, on which sat Jeb Lee. Their faces were expressionless to the point of being plastic. Why did this group of self-centered sixteen-year-olds give him the heebie-jeebies?

Will shut the door as soon as he entered his cottage. Checking to see if there was anyone watching through the curtainless window, he entered the kitchen and placed his briefcase on the table. He zipped it open and placed the towel-wrapped finger in the refrigerator – making sure that his body blocked anyone possibly viewing him on a closed-circuit camera. He poured himself a shot of 'shine, noticing that the bottle was now half-full.

As much as he wanted to have dinner at the Dining Hall, he needed time alone to sort out his day. He noted that, in spite of the balmy evening temperature, he was shivering. Although Jeb Lee was a snot-nosed, spoiled rotten bully, and got a punishment that was, Will thought, much more lenient than he deserved, he still could not shake off a sense of unease. He concluded that it must be abnormally high level of testosterone in the air.

And them, there was the letter and the severed finger. Maybe the letter had originated elsewhere and had been windborne to the rooftop. Perhaps the severed finger was from a science teacher's class, meant to be properly disposed of but somehow found its way to... "Who am I kidding?" Will thought to himself.

Someone in Boxton Academy either murdered or was an accomplice to the murder of poor Eli Hamilton. Someone had hacked Will's social media account as revenge for Pietro La Roca's suicide. Wait a minute, he thought – what if it wasn't suicide at all? He didn't know what possibility was more frightening – that one person might be responsible for all three crimes, or that there might be two, possibly three separate criminals involved?

Will had lived in NYC his entire life, and never once had he felt as vulnerable or fearful as he did in this backwoods Mississippi town. He literally shrieked when his cell phone went off.

'Derek Singleton," his cell phone announced, "Derek Singleton."

It was as if a great weight was being lifted from his shoulders. Somehow, just the sound of his name was a light that scattered the dark shadows of his menacing fears. A solid, calming sound that held him, safe and comfortable. He shook off his immobility and snatched the phone before the next utterance.

"Hi!" he said, surprised at his own breathlessness.

"Why do I get the feeling," Derek said gently, "that you are somehow in need of being saved, once again? Is this going to be a thing?"

It was Will's turn to laugh. Teasingly he replied, "Why? Is that a problem?"

"No, no, no," answered Derek. "I just like to know what I might be in for, should we ever, you know, decide to start dating."

Will's heart began to beat a little faster. "Wh... what?"

"Jerry's glaring at me. The reason I'm calling is that he told me a bit of what he's heard about your first day, and I thought – if you're not bogged down with assignments and notes and such – that you might enjoy a home-cooked meal and a relatively unbiased friend to talk to."

"I would love that," Will said.

"Great. Jerry is waiting in the parking lot, since I know you don't have a car yet. See you soon."

Will picked up his briefcase and, hoping maybe he'd work up the courage to show Derek his gruesome discovery, put it back in the briefcase's outer pocket. He looked around a spotted young Jerry in what looked like a new car. "Is this a Hybrid? I'm looking into getting a new car."