Superheroes

Chapter Five - Partnership

                                        Chapter Five – Partnership

“Shit,” Andrew said from under the bed, his voice muffled, “you weren’t kidding.”

“Well, duh?” I said in my best nasal voice, folding my arms across my chest. “That d-doesn’t concern me half as much as the note in my locker d-does though.”

Drumming his fingers on the wooden underside of the bed, Andrew thought for a moment. “What gets me is why in your locker? You didn’t know him, and no one knows that you’re investigating his death as a murder.”

“You do,” I pointed out, momentarily suspicious. I could easily believe Andrew capable of putting that note inside my locker for the sole purpose of fucking with me.

“Nah, I could never be arsed to actually type and print that out. Too much effort,” Andrew said, sounding honest enough. In all fairness, I could easily believe that to be true too.

“Maybe the k-killer is psychic too?” I suggested, leaning back against Trent’s desk as I watched the half-visible body under the bed.

“For fucks sake Ash,” Andrew said, twisting himself around to clamber out from under the bed. On the way up he clipped his head on the bedside table, triggering a colourful string of cuss words. “You can’t use people being psychic as a reason for everything,” he finished, rubbing his head grouchily as he stood.

“But y-you do believe that we’re psy-psychic,” I said, posing it as a statement although I sought confirmation. Sometimes I needed reassuring that I wasn’t going mad.

“Yes,” Andrew said with heavy exasperation, fed up of the question. “Doesn’t mean the rest of the world is.”

Still grumbling about his injured head, Andrew looked around with a glare, examining the room rather aggressively, like it was the furniture’s fault that he’d been assaulted. “Maybe we s-should hold a s-séance or s-something,” I suggested. “Try to t-talk to his s-spirit from beyond the veil.”

“You can’t be serious,” Andrew said, staring incredulously at me.

“On the contrary, I’m v-very serious.” I couldn’t quite keep a straight face, a smile cracking through my solemn expression. “You c-could even say that I’m dead serious.”

“You little shit,” Andrew said, grinning in spite of himself. “That’s not even close to funny.”

“I’m not the one who’s laughing,” I pointed out in a smart-arse manner, also lying as I started snickering.

The joke could only last so long, however, and eventually awkward silence returned. “Y-you believe me now, r-right?” I asked quietly, watching him. “Trent was murdered.”

“Looks like it,” Andrew admitted, shoving his hands in his blazer pockets and shrugging. “Don’t have a fucking clue how though.”

“Well, we could-” I was cut off by the school bell, signalling the end of lessons. In a matter of minutes students would flood the dormitory building, and no doubt some of them would wonder what Andrew and I were doing hanging around in the dead kid’s bedroom. Our time was up.

When I glanced back over at Andrew he was no longer smiling, his shoulders hunched over. “Lunch tomorrow, round the back of the toilets,” he said shortly, giving me a curt nod before hurrying out of the room. By the time I got to the door to follow after him, he had vanished.

                                                                ~

Fortunately, Andrew’s ambiguity was open for deciphering. I eventually figured out that he must have meant the toilets out by the running track, where we first met. How romantic.