PSYCHO ― John B. Routledge ✓

19. Bad Idea

"No everyone can crash their daddy's Benz on the weekends, Alisha," JJ remarked as they all took off towards the van, taking their respective places. Since Pope was the navigator he took his place in the passenger seat while the rest of them piled into the back. "Ugh, this van is getting crowded."

"Tell me about it," Alisha, who was squished in between Norman and JJ, muttered regretfully.

Things were quiet as they drove, safe for Pope giving John B directions as best he could. It was odd to think how close they could be to the gold. After so much had happened in just a few short days, it was surreal to think of the gold as something real, something tangible. Granted, Norman knew none of that gold belonged to him. He had enough money, it would be awful of him to take it away from his friends that actually needed it. He could play the spoiled rich boy all he wanted, but he wasn't going to be that much of an asshole.

"Okay, so the road should split here. All right, you're gonna take a left," Pope instructed as John B veered down the road, definitely driving faster than he should.

Looking out the window, JJ noted, "That looks just like a stone wall to me."

"But is it the stone wall we need?" Norman asked as he observed the wall next to the road.

Pope nodded, his expression dead serious, "This is it."

"Not the Crain house," John B groaned as the doors opened up and they all left the van. Norman stumbled slightly as his foot hit the dirt road, but before he could call, John B caught him but let him go almost as quickly. Norman didn't say anything as he brushed himself off, but the look in the boys' eyes when they meant said everything they needed to.

Kie sighed as she looked over at the residence, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Literally worst-case scenario," added the blond.

"What's up with this place?" Alisha asked, "I don't think I've ever heard of it."

Norman shrugged, "Yeah, me neither."

"I heard that Mrs. Crain buried her husband's head on the property," JJ explained, "She's absolutely nuts. Definitely a murderer, too. Apparently, her husband haunts the place."

"Ghosts aren't real," Norman scoffed.

"We don't know that for sure!" the boy defended, "Either way, it gives me the fucking creeps."

John B sighed, "Well, let's go."

With a collective groan, they headed towards the house. This was probably one of the dumber things they had attempted to do during this treasure hunt. Breaking onto some psycho old lady's property really hadn't been on Norman's to-do list today yet here he was. He knew he should have left by now with how painfully obvious it was that John B didn't want him here. Norman wished he knew what the hell he was still doing as they stepped through the overgrown grass and weeds. He couldn't stop thinking about what Sarah had said to him after John B fell. I think he was trying to hide the fact that it was you. Maybe John B had been overcompensating after Norman just about outright rejected him -- multiple times now. He wished he hadn't been too blind to realize that he hadn't been alone in his feelings, but now it was too late. John B hated him. Probably for real this time, too, which made everything worse. Everything had been so much easier when Norman could have just pretended it was nothing and that he was straight, but as Alisha had suggested, he let himself try. Now he couldn't turn back. He liked John B. Of course, the only time he was finally okay admitting that to himself was when the boy absolutely hated his guts.

As if the boy had been reading his mind, John B breaks through the awkward silence of the group to whisper to Norman, "I don't hate you, you know."