All American Boys

5. Blue Jeans

All American Boys

Chapter 5: Blue Jeans

Emily insisted that she come pick me up that morning. I told her that I could drive myself to school, but she kept pressing on. In the end, I relented. But after what happened yesterday, I could see why she was worried.

I had immediately gone home after English class, driving the car as fast as I could. I needed to get to the safety of my home.

As luck would've had it, I had to sit beside Cyril. I never bothered to look behind when I headed to class, but he came in ten minutes later than I did, plopping himself on the only empty seat in the room – the one right beside me. In the corner of my eye, I noticed that his left fist was wrapped in a piece of bandage. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, not being able to concentrate in class. He seemed like he didn't want to be there either, making sure to keep as much distance between the two of us as possible. Once the bell rang, I made a beeline to the carpark.

I told Emily everything and now here we were, me in the passenger seat of her car.

"You really shouldn't have done that," she told me after I passed her a banana from the kitchen which mom told me to give her.

"Oh this?" I tried deflecting. "Mom just insists that I take an extra one for you."

"You know what I'm talking about," she said, her hands never letting go of the steering wheel.

Defeated, I placed the banana in the cup holder between us before sinking into the seat.

"What did you expect me to do?" I groaned. "I tried my best to control myself."

"I know you did," she said, somewhat comfortingly. "But you have to remember whose son he is."

"Yeah," I muttered. "The mayor."

There was a short silence as Emily drove, before we stopped at the T-junction between Ellesmere and Lavender.

"I know it's difficult, but I'm saying this for your own safety," she said. "The last thing you'd want to do is piss off the mayor's son. Especially after everything that has happened. And besides, you wouldn't even know if he even knew about the murder."

"Even if he didn't," I replied. "He's still his son. He has a murderer's blood flowing in him, who knows if he's going to turn out just like his father?"

"I doubt Crawford's gonna risk ruining his own image to his son," Emily said. "And besides, Cyril's a genuine guy."

"And how would you know?" I asked.

"Let's just say after you fled the scene yesterday, Cyril and I had a little talk," she told me. "Well, he approached me actually."

"Well what did you talk about?" I replied, rising my eyebrow. "About me, I'm sure of it."

"Nothing bad, I can tell you that," she said. "But he was really concerned about you."

"Eh," I muttered. "Why would he do that?"

Emily rolled her eyes.

"Maybe because he's genuinely a nice person and he didn't have anything to do with Alicia's murder," she replied, emphasising the last part. "And besides, if you really want to secure yourself in society you ought to latch yourself to him. All the kids in school try to befriend him, and he approaches you. I'd want to see Crawford hanging from a noose too, but you ought to bide your time."

I gave her a knowing look. She only replied with a slight smirk on her innocent, dainty lips.

"You sly bitch," I sneered.