baking that bun I put in your oven.”
She smiles. “Will do.”
“Love you. Call me when you lay down for the night.”
“Love you, and I will.”
She hangs up, grabs another strawberry, shoves it in her mouth, and then grabs the whole tray. “Let’s go do some digging.”
Through an hour’s worth of searches, we find out that the house Tobias Easton lives in belonged to a Hope Easton, who passed away at the age of twenty-nine while serving in the US Naval Reserves. The photos we found of her are the same as the woman in the picture on Tobias’s IG. The fact that she is only sixteen years older than him would lead one to believe she was his much older sister, but further digging unveils that she was actually his mother. Being her only known relative, he was given the house.
“He was fourteen when she died,” I whisper as I hold my hand over my heart.
We couldn’t find much on him. As a minor and one who seems to like his privacy, unlike most of our generation who shares everything on social media, finding anything more is extremely difficult. But what we surmised is he’s eighteen and doesn’t need a guardian.
“Mystery man,” Kiki says sadly, closing the laptop.
“I’m sure Harrison and the other two know everything.”
“How odd is it that they’re friends? Harrison, Miles, and Kai aren’t nice to anyone. They don’t even act like our peers without big names and plastic tits present. And Tobias doesn’t even hang around them at school.”
“Well, we don’t have to wonder where he gets money to eat and own a different workout outfit every day.” I lean back into the overstuffed couch cushion. “Those fights are big money. I bet he walks away with twenty grand, even if he doesn’t win.”
“Wonder how he reports that to the IRS.” Kiki laughs.
“Gonna guess that doesn’t happen.”
“You said you paid through an app. How do you erase that paper trail?”
“Honestly, Kiki, I don’t even want to know. I just wish I never even went to the outcast cast party. I feel like all of this is my fault, including my brother now being put in danger because of someone’s hate for me.”
“Someone?” she huffs. “You mean PBJ?”
“You know, I thought so, too, but what does she have to gain? If she liked Harrison, like really liked him, that would be the last thing anyone with half a brain would do. Think about it. Why would she want to even shed light on me or you?”
“Because crazy people don’t use logical reasoning, Truth. And from what I have seen, she’s crazy with a capital C.”
Chapter Twelve
Idiom
She’s becoming all the rage.
Truth
I’d rather be the cause of happiness.
Friday
The halls of Seashore aren’t as quiet as they had been since Tuesday. There’s a new excitement buzzing, and I know that buzz isn’t because the baseball team has its first game after school tonight, or the fact that notifications from The Sound for a party have hit the upper echelon of the elite to an after party at none other than Gabrielle Morales-Ortez’s house. It’s the fight.
The invitation has, however, caused Alexa, Baker, James, and Abhi to attempt to pull Brisa and me back into the friendship circle.
I was a little pissed that they were blatantly avoiding us, but the part of me that sees full truths in others, even though I’ve been juggling mine like a circus clown on her first day of training, I never really blamed them for avoiding further knocks down the rungs on the popularity ladder because of me.
For all the opportunity Seashore gives with state of the art facilities, small class sizes, more clubs with better coaches, teachers who should be teaching at colleges and universities and not a high school level, mentorship programs, standardized testing prep, college course credits, and access to the best colleges in the world, it does have its faults.
The students here aren’t wondering where they’ll get their next meal, if they’ll be picked on for not having this season’s clothes, if they’ll get caught in the crossfire of some gang activity on their way to school, or worry as much about school shootings. They worry about fitting in.
Bullshit, I tell myself then quickly amend my thoughts to, we all worry about fitting in.
Why is it all my most profound moments are while peeing? I wonder as I open the bathroom stall.
When I see Gabrielle standing there, waiting for me, I roll my eyes.
“We’re going to become friends,” she says as