The Absence of Truth | S. Stilinski

XXIII. | connections

XXIII. | connections

                    SPRING BREAK BEGAN smoothly. Stiles and I scoured the records from Beacon Hills High, trying to find the connection between the murders and the kanima. Originally, it was believed that every person killed had been in Harris's class. The theory of connection had been debunked the night of the rave, though, because a behind the scenes organizer of the party had been murdered, and she'd never attended Harris's class during her high school years.

It was Wednesday night, and we still hadn't figured anything out. I was perched on the kitchen counter at my house, scarfing down a piece of pizza. I had on Lydia's dress - a low-cut black number that I matched with a pair of deep red heels. My makeup was done naturally since I expected the party to be upbeat and warm, and my hair was down around my shoulders. Presley was at Danny's house, trying to convince him to come. Apparently most of the teenagers in Beacon Hills planned to avoid the party due to Lydia's odd nature in and out of school. They thought she was crazy, and no one wanted to go to a crazy girl's party.

Mom and Sarah were both already in their pajamas for the night, sipping on glasses of white wine. My mother always said that a day wasn't complete without a glass of wine, and she stuck to her word. Sarah, on the other hand, looked queasy as she downed the glass of alcohol.

They were talking about something while I sat and watched. Internally, I ran through the murders in the town again. Every connection I could think of was either untrue, or impossible to prove. I needed something irrefutable - something concrete and damning enough to convict someone of the murders. If I found that person, then I would know who controlled the kanima as well. This could all be over. All I needed was proof.

"So, who's going to the party tonight?" Mom asked as she sipped on her drink.

I shrugged halfheartedly. "Just some people from school."

"Like Stiles Stilinski?" She asked, this time a lot less casually.

My eyes flicked to Sarah, who now had her eyes trained on the granite of the countertop. She hadn't told Mom about the kiss she'd witnessed between Stiles and myself, but she was having a hard time keeping the secret. Nevertheless, Mom had already pinned him as the boy to look out for, since every chance she got she asked about him.

"Yes," I said. "But so is Scott McCall."

Mom also knew Scott because of her work friend Melissa McCall. Melissa McCall was Scott's mother. They spent most of their shifts gossiping about us and our friend group. So far, they assumed we'd either robbed a bank or found proof of alien life, just because we'd been acting so off recently. Similarly to me, Scott had pulled the father card, saying his weird behavior was caused by his absent dad. I'd rolled my eyes at how original it sounded.

"That's good," she told me. "I like him too."

"Is the whole team going?" Sarah asked now, looking at me expectantly. I blinked at her in response. "You know," she said, "The lacrosse team?"

"Oh," I said. "I don't know. You know they're not all friends, right?"

She shrugged and sipped her wine. "Well, yeah, but they still know each other. Still have some kind of connection."

The sound that came out of my mouth was almost unholy. I gasped, dropping my pizza slice on the floor and opening my eyes far too wide. "Say that again," I commanded Sarah.

"What?" She asked. "They all have that kind of connection?"

"The team," I whispered.

Suddenly, I was moving, jumping off of the counter and landing on my heeled feet. I jogged into the living room and found Mom's purse, where I dug through until I found her car keys. "Can I borrow these?" I practically yelled. She was silent as I flew around the downstairs, collecting my bag and phone. I stood at the front door when I was done, panting like a dog. "Can I use your car?" I asked again, this time a little more frantic.