Dedicated to: DaisyJoIrwin
Dudeee. Your comment was so nice. Thank you! I honestly didn’t think this was publishing material, but it’s nice to see that some people think otherwise.
Thanks for reading and giving feedback! C:
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September 15th
Agent R. Harris and Agent A. Peterson are questioned.
31. Withholding Information
Date: September 15th
The one thing I can tell as the door slams behind me is that Natalia, Maria, and Leah are nowhere to be found. About five pairs of eyes look at me from their computers, but none of them belong to any of the Cherubim. I narrow my eyes and sit down at a station in front, examining the room.
A single light glows above our heads and the soft hum of overheating computers meets my ears. I pretend to be texting Natalia, and discreetly size-up the teens in the room.
There are two girls. One of them eyes me cautiously from where she sits, and then I realize who it is.
Kristen Fell, a freshman Natalia mentioned before during conversation, watches me carefully behind the short orange curls that cover half her face. I don’t return her gaze, because I know she would look away, but I notice.
I think back to Natalia and my conversation about Maxwell.
“We don't see him often and he only checks in with the assistant principal and about four other students whenever he does come in,” she said.
I recall the conversation vividly.
And that’s when I realize that three of those students are in this room.
Ginger DiGiovanni hides herself behind a large computer screen and sends occasional glances my way, her dark eyes filled with a slight urgency. Next to her sits Eli Howard, a scrawny junior with freckles, who now looks up from his keyboard to stare boldly at the side of my head.
All three students sit on the right side of the room.
Suddenly the thought that they could be contacting Maxwell at this very moment crosses my mind, but before I jump to conclusions, I decide to test the waters.
I purse my lips and turn to face Eli.
I stare into his eyes but he doesn’t look away. In fact, he smiles at me, and it’s one of those smiles that tells me he knows something I don’t.
I decide to check my phone for real this time, and text Natalia to find out where the girls are.
And then I’m interrupted.
“Excuse me,” says a voice from the back of the lab.
The computer chair underneath me swivels as I turn to face the man. This man is standing in front of the back door wearing a dark collared shirt, a black tie, and black uniform pants. His voice is deep, and he is poised, his eyes serious.
And a big shiny yellow badge stands proudly on his chest.
“Rachel Williams?” he says. I don’t nod; all I do is stare. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
I turn back to Eli Howard, who is still smiling at me, my heart slamming repeatedly against my chest. And then he moves his gaze to look directly at the column in the middle of the room that matches the white color of the walls. The same column I thought looked out of place the last time I was in this room.
Slowly I get up, walk towards the policeman, and start out of the room. But right before my foot crosses the threshold, I’m almost positive I see a small red dot, positioned at the center of the column, blink on and then off. As if it were some kind of camera.
. . .
I sit down onto a leather chair in Mr. Jacobs’ office again with great displeasure. And I am not alone in this.
Alex sits in the chair adjacent to mine and he stares blankly to his front, not acknowledging me. Somehow, I find it better this way. It’s as if we’re communicating without actually speaking.
Deny everything.
“Ms. Williams,” says Mr. Jacobs as he stands in front of the wooden desk before us. “It has been brought to my attention, from a fellow student, that you have left the premises of Smile Academy.”
My heart drops into my stomach.
From a fellow student. Surely not Peter or Justin . . .
The assistant principal’s blue eyes pierce through my very being, and my blood seems to stop flowing correctly. “This student seems to be very concerned for the safety of the school. They have said that they suspect you are withholding information that could be useful to the authorities.”
Susan.
“So I thought I’d come in and have a little chat,” intervenes the policeman.
Alex finally looks away from the wall and turns to the policeman, who stands behind the brown desk, on Jacobs’ right.
“And who are you?” Alex asks tonelessly. Then he looks back at the wall, seemingly uninterested in whatever the man has to say. “And isn’t there supposed to be some kind of guardian present before you can legally interrogate us?”
The man smiles. “Officer Reynolds. And yes, usually, that is the case.” Then he steps forward and leans down to our eye-level, resting his hand on the desk. His eyes are brown, the deep brown that makes you want to keep looking into them.
“But this isn’t an interrogation,” the officer says, and the words come out hard. “And even so, Mr. Jacobs will be present.”
I scoff. “And that's supposed to make us more comfortable.”
Officer Reynolds smirks a little, but stands up straight again. I watch him become even more serious now, more so than before. “What do you have to say in response to the allegations made against you?”
I stare at him. So much for a friendly conversation.
“Wait, allegations?” Alex says. His voice mirrors my expression. “We’re only about two minutes into this chat, officer, and already we’ve committed a crime, according to you.”
The officer clears his throat but otherwise seems unfazed by Alex’s attitude. “It was said that you may be withholding crucial information, but if it makes this any easier for you, I’ll use a different word.”
Alex nods, a sarcastic look aimed at Officer Reynolds. “Yeah, that’ll make everything better. Thanks.”
A little taken aback at Alex’s attitude towards the man, I decide to join the conversation. “Yes,” I say, because I decide to tell the partial truth. I earn the attention of everyone in the room. Alex turns to me, and his eyes burn into mine. “We left the school premises together,” I continue.
My eyes leave Alex’s and I look over at Mr. Jacobs, who stands quietly in the northwest corner of the room. “But we don’t have any information that would be useful to you. You probably know more than we do.” I look at the officer. “Being a cop and everything.”
The officer tilts his head to the side. “You think so?” he says. “Because I often find that when a whole group of teenagers strongly believes someone is guilty, there is definitely more to the story than advertised.”
“A group? I thought you said it was a fellow student,” Alex says, catching the officer’s slip-up. Officer Reynolds glances at Jacobs, who looks straight at Alex.
There’s only one group of students that I have in mind. And I want to storm out of the room and find the Cherubim so I can confront them and drag them by their hair for talking me into “meeting them” when really I was walking into a visit from the police.
But I only shrug. “I don’t know, officer. I think you’re the one withholding information.”
Alex leans forward in his chair just as the officer did a few minutes ago. “You know, you guys should get your stories straight before having these chats; this is kind of embarrassing.”
The officer stares at the two of us for a moment.
We stare back, unwaveringly.
And then, a piercing sound splits right through the period of silence. The school bell.
I turn to Alex. “I think we’ve got Chemistry now,” I tell him, and then I glance at the two men in front of us. “Unless we’re also being charged for murder.”
Alex feigns a look of excitement. “Are we? I forgot to write that paper on the effects of acid rain. Maybe if we just stay in here for another . . . say, thirty minutes, I could—”
“Alex,” I say.
“Well, it was a long shot anyway,” he says.
The two of us stand up and make our way to the door, and I fight to keep the amusement off my face at the sight of the incredulous expression that covers Officer Reynolds’ face.
“Nice to meet you,” I throw over my shoulder.
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I don’t know about you guys, but I found that chapter to be really awesome.
:D
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