Monday was the first day for the musical rehearsals. It was also the first day of police interviews from classroom to classroom, mainly stating how important the issue was that students come to them with any information they may have. Unfortunately, no students had any useful information.
In their 3rd period class, Michael, Ryan, and Trent were in the same class, and that was when two police officers came into the room. As soon as they walked in, the boys had glanced at each other uncomfortably.
"Hello, kids. I know you may wonder why there are so many of us here today. Well, your classmate, Luke Grass, as you should know, passed away last week. We thought it was an asthma attack, but now we think it may have been a murder. The department has emailed all of your parents, warning of the murder. All we need from the classes we're visiting is some form of information. Really anything about Luke that you can think of." The man with the name tag 'Willis' said.
The two officers looked around the classroom at the blank faces of the children. Michael and Ryan glanced nervously at each other, while others glanced at others. Trent remained silent with a neutral face, but he could feel sweat beading on his upper lip. It felt like he was having a half panic attack and half heart attack.
One guy raised his hand, and Officer Willis pointed at him. "I have a few classes with him, and he seemed stressed and annoyed almost every minute of the day. He just had a resting bitch face-um, sorry teach."
The teacher just blinked rapidly and shook his head. The other officer, Officer George, looked to Officer Willis, "Alright, anyone else?"
"You could look through the journal he kept." A voice from the back of the room announced. They all turned back to see the quiet Owen looking up from his chapter book.
"He had a journal?" Officer George asked. Trent looked at Michael, who was obviously breathing heavily. Even Michael knew he couldn't protect Drake if they found a journal of Luke's, which possibly could mention how he hated Drake or Trent.
"Yeah, he carried it with him a lot. I think he secretly leaves it in the art room."
A girl turned around to face him, "If the journal's so secret, how do you know about it?"
He shrugged but never blinked, "The quiet people are more observant."
Trent mentally winced at that statement. The quiet ones are always the chaotic minded. That's what Isaiah had said before when Drake broke down crying. What else do quiet people do?
The officers nodded, "Well, we'll be sure to check that out, definitely. Anyone else?" They looked around the room, with silent awkward students staring back at them.
As they walked out, Officer Willis pulled his radio up to his mouth and said, "Is anyone in the art room?" And his voice faded out.
All three of the guys let out a deep sigh and looked at each other. They had to get that journal.
-----
The theater rehearsals started right after their last class in the auditorium. Trent and Drake met behind the curtains on the stage.
"Alright everybody," Ms. Hamilton's voice boomed from the center of the stage, "let's start with dance choreography! As we all know, Newsies has one of the most impressive dance routines of a Broadway musical. We've toned it down a bit, but we'll still need to work hard! All cast playing newsie characters, come to center stage."
Drake giggled, "Ha, you have to dance a lot."
Trent playfully rolled his eyes, and smiled, "Ha, you have to fall in love with a dancing idiot."
Drake smirked, "Oh, Mr. Kelly, I already have."
Trent couldn't stop himself from grinning. He leaned in and pecked Drake on the lips, feeling his boyfriend smile into the kiss. As he leaned back, he turned to see Michael smirking.
"C'mon, Casanova." He lightly pulled Trent onto the stage while Drake uncontrollably giggled, watching him. He couldn't wait to kiss him on stage. It would be monumental, and definitely memorable.
For the whole practice, he stared at Trent, prancing around the stage knowing and maybe not knowing what he was supposed to be doing. The beautiful man was sneaking glances at Drake as well. They were honestly infatuated with each other, as much as two humans can be. Beyond what Trent and Luke had; this had grown fast. This was something that would either end happily or destructive. Or both.
-----
Isaiah had remained silent during his 3rd period when the cops came in to ask questions, which was pretty painful for him. In the 4th period, he had a class with Charles, and he said he remained silent as well.
They all agreed to meet up at Whataburger after school, including Isaiah. Drake was the last one there, pulling an extra chair to sit down at between Trent and Michael.
Michael looked around the restaurant dramatically, "God, it seems like forever since we've been in here."
Charles sighed, "Don't be dramatic, Michael, this'll blow over eventually. Plus, treat it like a crime movie. Like Primal Fear or Law Abiding Citizen."
"More like Funny Games," Isaiah muttered under his breath. Ryan kicked him lightly in his shin. He grunted, "What? It is! In all of those movies the criminal wins at the end. That's what we're going for, right?"
Michael cleared his throat, "I think Law Abiding Citizen works better. Plus it's a better movie."
Drake gasped, "It's a good movie, but Funny Games is way better."
"Ladies, please, both are good movies, but right now maybe we should talk about the police situation." Trent settled, unintentionally putting his hand on Drake's arm.
"First I wanna say something," Ryan said, putting both of his palms on the table. All of them looked at him, confused.
"Drake," He began, looking him in the eye, "I honestly don't even care if you maliciously killed him. I don't care if you stabbed him, shot him, raced him and watched him have an asthma attack, it doesn't matter. I didn't give a shit about him then, and I don't now. However, I would appreciate it if you tell the absolute truth. I don't care if you stabbed him, just if you tell me you did. We need to be able to trust you, us being all of your lawyers."
They awkwardly looked to Drake to see what his reaction was, and his mouth was parted with his eyes wider than before. Trent, under the table, grabbed his hand to soothe him.
"'I'm your mother, your father, your priest.'" Michael immediately quoted from Primal Fear. In this instance, no one rolled their eyes.
Drake took a moment, seriously debating within his own mind. If he told them, they'd all know and he'd have a higher chance of having his backstabbed. However, if he really did trust all of them, he wouldn't have to worry about that. Then again, Drake didn't trust many. He looked at Trent from the corner of his eyes, and he was looking back at him, waiting. Trent knew the whole story already, and somehow Drake knew he wanted him to tell the group the same story. As much as he didn't want them to know, he knew Trent would have the best advice for him. He knew Trent would be by his side, no matter what could happen. Even if he did end up in prison, Trent would either visit him every day or the more probable, he would do something that would end with him in prison next to him. Either way, this shall end some way or another.
Drake leaned forward, out of hearing of any employees or other customers, "I stabbed him, yes. With a knife that is now buried underneath a house in another town. At least I hope so by now. I sent it in a package to Oklahoma to a cousin of mine who agreed to help. He buried it underneath his house without the rest of the family's knowledge. I trust him not to tell a soul. After I stabbed Luke he fell to the ground and rolled around a bit. He was slowly running out of breath, which is when I realized he probably could have died from asthma instead. Then it would look like an accident. His inhaler really did fall out of his back pocket at the beginning. Who am I kidding, that's when I thought of making it seem like an accident. I used a band-aid I kept in my bag as a covering. Maybe to make it seem like a cut, I didn't really know at the time. I got off of the track and went to the comic book club sponsor, just like I had said before."
He leaned back and switched looks from each of his friends in front of him. His council of 'lawyers' stared at him in awe.
Isaiah cleared his throat, his eyes darting back and forth, "So, um, how far back was it calculated? Cause, you obviously had to have brought the knife with you."
"I thought about doing something before I came to school. Maybe threaten, maybe maim, I was playing it by ear. When I saw him on the track alone, I figured I could do more than I planned. That's second-degree murder, right, Isaiah?" He smirked at his law research in the past week and a half. It's insane how much has happened in such little time.
Isaiah stumbled on his words, "Um, yeah, I think so. It's not premeditated, so, uh, yeah."
Trent smirked, knowing all of this story already, and as a reaction to the other guys' reactions. They were shocked that Drake was capable of something so callous, but Trent honestly was even more attracted to the dark side of him. It made him feel like he could do anything for him. They'd kill for each other, most likely.
"So, next order of business," Michael began, "we found more out about Luke. A boy in our 3rd period said Luke had a journal he carried around with him. I'm personally worried that he wrote something about Drake or Trent in it."
He was speaking to the whole table. Drake smiled sideways, "Don't worry about it, Mikey. I've got it covered."
Charles looked to him, "Since when the hell were you suddenly the leader of a mob? 'I've got it covered', so ominous, Little Duck."
"I know what journal you're talking about. I have it with me." Drake said, picking up his backpack and setting it on his lap. He dug into it while the others watched him closely. He pulled out a book with a hard black covering and opened it to the first page, which had Luke's name and phone number in case it was lost.
"Holy shit, Little Duck," Michael exclaimed, leaning forward. "You're a natural rogue."
Drake beamed, closing the book. "I was hoping we could get rid of this. There, um, actually is a poem or a few in here about you, Trent."
Trent uncomfortably crossed his arms to his elbows. "Yeah, we can get rid of that. I have a bonfire firepit at my house we can use to burn it."
Isaiah adjusted his glasses and blinked hard, "You should make sure to burn it enough to be unrecognizable. Cover and all."
Drake nodded, already knowing he had to burn all of it.
"Do any of you have any more things we need to get on top of right now?" He asked, stuffing the journal back into his backpack.
Each of them shook their head, still mentally coping with the fact their quiet, cute friend was a murderer. Drake stood up, slid his backpack on, and went to the counter to order a Diet Coke. Trent stood up right after.
"You're gonna go, too?" Ryan asked.
"Well, yeah, we've gotta burn it at my place."
"Oh, what a romantic barbecue," Isaiah said, sarcastically. Trent pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at him, but shrugged it off.
-----
"Do you think it'll burn easily?" Drake asked Trent as they stood outside at Trent's firepit in his backyard.
It was about 6 o'clock, and the sun was setting behind the woods in front of the fence. The couple was standing next to each other, Trent fueling the fire with a bottle of gasoline and Drake inspecting the journal to come up with an idea of how long it would take to burn.
"The pages, for sure. The cover will probably take a bit longer." Trent replied, squirting another stream of gasoline onto the already vibrant fire.
The fire illuminated both of their faces, giving them both an orange glow. Drake took a step forward and tossed the journal into the firepit. Trent squeezed the gasoline bottle at the fire, causing it to rise up two more feet and then come down again. It flourished on the papers, eating them fast. They burnt to a crisp black before they watched them deteriorate into orange embers.
Just like Trent had said, the cover slowly burned, but nonetheless, they could tell it was burning. Drake grabbed Trent's hand in his, and they squeezed each other. The sun disappeared behind the trees, only leaving a yellow-orange horizon line. Minutes later, it became pure indigo sky, stars slowly sprinkling themselves into the light of the night. Drake laid his head on Trent's shoulder, admiring the sky and the fire. Trent moved his hand from Drake's to his waist, holding him close to him. The moon shone down on them, but not as much as the fire did.