As Easy As Murder

14. relive

Ch Ch Ch

Standing infront of the printer, I watch as it spits out my essay, words that may break my freshly built reputation, comdemn a building still under construction. I slip my fingers around the warm paper, the ink words staring me back, threataning me. 

I shoot Cheryl a smile over my shoulder, "Thanks again for letting me use your printer."

She nods, waving a hand, "Oh, it's no problem, honey. If you ever want to chat, my door is open," She swings the pale yellow chipped door to her desk. I laugh, and ignore the monster of fear scratching at the walls of my stomach, eating all the butterflies. 

Sitting in Kori's dorm, I can't focus on the case. Words jumble together, spelling out ones I don't want to think about. Kori seems unbothered by what looms over us, tommorows fate. He kneels down, organizing the open file on the floor before him. I look at the paper he gave me to read over, and I can't. 

My legs have been wobbling since I read the email. You don't have to tell me that's pathetic, I know. I'm a good speaker; sometimes at least. I have a reputation for rambling. Words come to me so fast my mouth can't catch up, and it all comes out as a blurt, cut up by stammers and stutters. I fidget with the pen in my hand. 

"Jenny," Kori hums, picking up the file for Jenny, the last person to see our victim. "I'd say we can rule her out." Kori has been rushing through this whole thing, zipping through the sessions, making it abundantly clear he'd rather be somewhere else. He despises me, I know it. I feel it in the air between us, and It's reciprocated, but something else lingers on my side. I push the pen into the file, hard. 

The pen can't take it, and it comes apart, greeting our worksapce with a blue explosion of ink. I look up at Kori with an uh-oh face. He groans, "Great, just great. Now that document is unsalvageable." 

"Like your personality." 

"Be serious, Averen. Didn't you hear the professor? This is MOST of our grade. MOST." His accent is clear once more, r's having gained slight W's, c's have gained faint H's. Whenever this happens, the muscles in my face decide to smile. It's cute. Not that I think he is cute, just the accent. If I ever say I find Kori Laurier cute, drop me off at the nearest asylum. 

I shrug, "Yeah, yeah." 

He scoffs, scrubbing the ink off of the stool we'd been using as a desk, since he was adamant about not letting me sit on his furniture. Apparently I have slime trailing behind me like a snail or something from the way he acts. God, clean freak much? 

I lean my head back, the thought of the essay flashing in my head like an alarm, alerting me to the fact that I was about to share my rock-bottom point with 40 half-asleep college freshman who couldn't care less. I zone out. 

Kori snaps his fingers in my face. "Earth to brat. Come on, we're almost done. Unless you're in dire need of an emergency nap." 

I sigh, "Can I take you up on that?" 

"I was joking." 
"Damn it."



<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Walking to class, my heart is in my throat and my stomach is in my feet. I feel like I could be sick. My careless attitude's dissapearence needs an investigation. The next assignment should be solving the case of 'where did Averen's sense go'. 

I slide into the farthest back seat possible, hoping maybe Prof Simons will forget I'm in this lecture.  "Good morning everyone. As you know, today you will be orally presenting your essay's. We will be going by last name alphabetically, starting at Z and working our way up to A. Good luck." She stands infront of us, floral skirt clinging to her legs, hair having frizzed up the humidity. It's the last warm day of the year, before we are relieved of frizzy hair and pit-stains, and are allowed into the peaceful world of pumpkins and scarecrows. I let myself slip away from reality, worries comforted by the thought of Halloween. 

Professor Simon's voice becomes an afterthought as my mind wonders over the possibilities of what me and Loretta will go as this ear. We always do corralated costumes. Last year she was sexy Donald duck (don't ask) and I was sexy Micky (don't ask again). The year before, we were Harley Quin and the Joker. I wonder if that green wig was Loretta's insporation for her now signature green hair. 

Maybe we could go as... 

My thoughs are rudely interrupted by Anthony's ever-cracking voice. 

"My biggest injustice," He begins, voice about as enthusiastic as a kindergartener playing with a parachute. I put my head down, preparing myself for the impending monstrosity this poor room would be subjected to. I pull my maroon sweater over my eyes, suddenly fighting a headache. I wouldn't be surprised if it was Anthony-induced. 

"My biggest injustice was my drum set being sold. When I was 14, my Dad got me this real drum set. Symbol and everything. It was swell, real swell. It even had my name on the main drum. Daddio said to start a band someday. So I played, all day every day. And I sounded superb, if I do say so myself. Unfortunatly, the next door neighbor didn't say so himself, and he went on my parents, telling tales of obnoxiousness and off-beat. I guess my dad forgot that our garage was connected to his. They sold my set. I threw a hissy, let me tell you. But they didn't budge. So I got into dance instead, we-hee!" The same obscure twirl occurs, with everyone gasping. Not in awe. He tips his fedora, which has now become his signturre fashion staple. Professor Simon's looks almost scared. 

"Amazing, Anthony." 

"Antony. My cousin said it would be cooler without the H." 

"Uhh, okay. Well, have a seat..an..Antony." 

I have to physically cover my mouth to keep from laughing, but then remember my own misfortune. How these same people, these same people who just watched an adult twirl and tip is fedora, buck teeth and all, will be witnessing me pour my heart out. Now I feel like covering my mouth for a different reason, not barfing. 

Other essay's pass, some funny, some sad, some inbetween. Melancholy. 

Then it was Kori's turn. 

I shifted in my seat, knowing L is only 3 letters from H. He steps up to the front, clearing his throat, his dark way hear falling over his eyes, grey sweater perfectly ironed, as were his khaki's. He starts reading, and it's a tragic tale. A tale of a murder. 

"My biggest injustice," He begins. "Is my Cousin's murder. My cousin, Junie Grin, was murdered by her highschool boyfriend back in 2009. We didn't find out who did it until 2012. I was young, but I knew what had happened. And It angered me. See-". He continued, but I stopped comprehending . I saw his words, flying out of his mouth and through the air, dark and morbid. The story was awful, something you'd hear on the news. And he became real. Kori, the sweater-vest wearing jerk, was no longer just a side-charachter of my life, but a person. And for a minute, I considered he may have some beauty in his mind. 

Key word: considered. Didn't say I saw it.