protect them from everything. Life was fragile, and when a killer was involved, things tended to get messy and stay messy.
Dante started to roll his eyes, but he knew I’d only grow aggravated at that, so he stopped himself, straining to sound normal and not annoyed as he said, “No. By the time I got to them, everyone was deep in their own shit.”
Deep in their own shit. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I knew it would be the only answer I’d get for now.
Let’s hope everyone had been so preoccupied with their own shit they’d neglected to see Chelsea and Deetra head upstairs with Dante.
Chapter Eighteen – Jaz
The week passed by, time refusing to slow down, even during times of craziness. Just as I suspected, nearly the whole school took the day off to go to Deetra’s and Chelsea’s funerals and services, but I didn’t—neither did Vaughn or Dante or Archer. None of us would’ve been welcome there, anyway.
All had been silent on the detective front. To say things were strained between Bobbi and I would be an understatement; she’d so firmly believed that I had nothing to do with Brittany’s death, and yet now that Chelsea and Deetra were dead too, it was almost like she was slowly changing her mind about me. Like, finally, my shiny newness had worn off and she was seeing me for the first time.
Me, the loser. Me, the outcast. Jazmine Smith, the freak who didn’t belong in Midpark. Bad things happened if you stuck around me long enough. Bobbi was finding that out.
To think, at my old school, in my old life, I used to think I was nothing special. Just a run-of-the-mill girl with average teenage problems, like a helicopter parent. Part of me would give anything to go back to those times, when things were simpler, but then the other part of me wanted to be selfish. Beyond all the murder and suspicion, I was happy. Truly, deeply happy with my guys.
It was early one Saturday when I sat at my desk, working on some homework in my pajamas. A soft knock bounced on my door, and I set down my pencil to turn and watch my mom walk in. She wore her going out clothes, her purse strung around her shoulder. Her blonde hair was straightened today, a bit of eyeshadow around her eyes.
“I need to run to the store,” she said. “I already called Jacob. He’ll be here in a minute. I’ll wait for him to get here, and then I’m out. Do you want me to pick you up anything special?” Even though she worked for a man who was more than rich enough to pay to have groceries and all that stuff delivered, my mom liked going. It got her out of the house, and I think it reminded her of old times.
Ollie was at work, which was why Mom made a big deal about waiting until Jacob got here to leave. The man had put a lot of his focus on me lately, but he did have some pre-existing clients he couldn’t just forget about. Plus, you know, unlike some people in this town, Oliver Fitzpatrick worked for his excessive amounts of money.
Shaking my head, I told her, “No, thanks. I’m good.” In the past, I might’ve asked for some candy or something, but my sweet tooth had taken a backseat while everything was happening around here.
“All right,” Mom spoke, leaning in the doorframe and looking quite sad. “Call if anything happens.”
“I will.” I gave her a smile, and she left, closing the door behind her. You’d think pretending everything was okay would get easier the more you did it, but it didn’t. Mom and I were fumbling around—Mom more so. I hated that I’d dragged her into this.
Ironically enough, none of this was even about Dad and who he was. This was all about Midpark, about me stepping on someone else’s toes, and them trying to get some payback. I had no idea who the hell I’d pissed off so much as to elicit multiple murders as a response, but apparently I did.
I was measured in turning back to my desk, my eyes glazing over the math homework open on my desk. Math sucked no matter what school you were in, that much I knew. Equations, shapes, angles, all that shit—I hated. Really, I did. I didn’t plan on being an architect or a tax accountant, so why the hell