Wesley

Wesley

"Laurie Schuman, the valedictorian of Darkridge High School's senior class, was found murdered yesterday. While many details surrounding her murder remain shrouded in uncertainty and mystery, there was a single video that was left on her body. The contents of the video contained audio was viewed by her parents and other members of her family and remain in the custody of the police. We know that the killer's motive was that Laurie had done nothing 'to silence the cries of a dying school.' This atrocious crime has taken from us a bright candle for the future and we hope that the heinous criminal responsible for this will be brought to justice, but for now, at least for today, let us honor and remember the vivid light that was Laurie, that was snuffed out before her time. Let us remember Laurie Schuman as she was in life and feel her loss in the dark of her passing."

 The message had been repeating for the majority of the dismal and cloudy morning from every radio on the campus, bringing it with it a sort of dull finality that Laurie had indeed been killed. The majority of the school's teachers and students were walking around with the same faraway, almost glazed expressions that betrayed the depressing thoughts that were floating around the inside of their heads.

 Inside one of the rooms, a dark skinned boy of about six feet with dark brown eyes sat atop his desk, absently throwing a tennis ball against the wall as he heard bits and pieces of the memorial speech coming from the crowded courtyard.

 He didn't share the feeling of loss that everyone else apparently did as he had just moved to the school a couple weeks ago and it wasn't like anyone expected him to go either. After all, he did have a bit of a reputation in his short time here, most of which originated from the circumstances surrounding his enrollment in Darkridge High.

No one knew why he'd enrolled and he'd spoken to almost no one since arriving, preferring to leave them to their speculations. He was fine without anyone and to be perfectly honest, he preferred it that way.

 Another contributing factor were his parents, a drunken father who'd once owned a flourishing enterprise before it went bankrupt and a kindhearted, but meek mother who was subject to random beatings when he wasn't around to intervene. He couldn't even count the occasions that he'd come home to find his mother laden with bruises.

 A couple days ago had found his father showing up to school in a drunken stupor, demanding that his son returned money that he'd spent at the bar the day before. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, his son, along with the rest of Darkridge High School watched the drunken fool start a brawl with members of staff before being led bodily to his vehicle. Needless to say, he didn't exactly have a nice home-life.

 The sound of the door opening made him miss his ball on the rebound as he looked towards the door, where a wavy brown haired boy was stepping inside.

 "I thought I'd find you here, Wesley," the boy said, a little glumly.

 "Yea, well, I guess you thought right, Warren," Wesley replied, getting up to retrieve his wayward tennis ball that had rolled into the corner.  He went back to his previous spot and started throwing the ball, the dull thumps of the ball filling the silence between the two.

 Warren had, by accident, become the first and only friend that Wesley had made. The two had been the targets of a group of bullies who fancied themselves popular and made the less popular kids painfully aware of their stature, but the two boys forged a friendship after fighting back and although they'd lost and were beaten bruised and bloody, they'd forged a bond. Now, however, Wesley could feel the question that Warren wanted to ask as if he'd written it in large letters on the wall that he threw the tennis ball against.

 He sigh as he caught the ball and held it. "I'm new to this school War," he said. "I've interacted with Laurie like three times since I've been here, not enough to really form any kind of attachment to her." He started tossing the ball again, trying to ignore the pained look in his friend's eyes.

 He'd known that Warren had a bit of a crush on Laurie although he'd never really had the courage to tell her, but it was probably for the best as she had many admirers, maybe even one crazed enough to wish her harm.

 "Well," Warren began hesitantly, taking a seat next to him. "It's not like I can really blame you. After all, you don't really like anyone."

 Wesley let out a short burst of laughter. "Yea, that's me, the emotionless zombie."

 "That's not what I meant," Warren quickly amended.

 "I get what you meant," Wesley said lightly, letting the comment go easily.

 "Have you heard the radio broadcast?"

 "Ever since I've woke up," Wesley said.         

 "...are you familiar with the murders that happened five years ago?" Warren's question was silent, but it seemed to fill the empty room as Wesley ignored the ball as it bounced past him yet again, but he turned his dark eyes towards his friend, eyes dark.

 "...I have," he said slowly. "What do you know about them?"

 Warren was silent, seeming to be very hesitant about revealing the information, but slowly, he began to talk. "Five years ago...there were six murders, horrible ones, all done by the same person. It took the police ages to find the guy, but when they did, they chased him to a bridge-"

 "Where he was shot, falling off of the bridge and into the water below," Wesley picked up easily. "Body was never recovered."

 Warren looked at his hands. "...yea," he confirmed after a moment.

 "I want to find out more about this killer," Wesley said. "I heard that there's a girl in our grade who's dad is an officer, maybe even the chief, but I can't really remember."

 "You're talking about Kim," Warren said. "It's true that her dad is a police officer...and a close friend of Laurie's."

 "How close are you to her?" Wesley asked, eyes almost glowing with interest.

 Warren fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare. "Not that close," he admitted. "We have first period and homeroom with her though.

 Wesley nodded thoughtfully, going to retrieve his ball. "Then I guess, we're going to have to get to know this Kimberly girl a bit better," he said.

 "Are you sure you want to start digging into something like this?" Warren asked. "I doubt we'd like what we found."

 "I don't know about you War, but if there's a killer loose in Darkridge, I for one want to know as much about them as I can, besides...."

 He lapsed into silence. "Wes?" Warren probed.

 Wesley remained silent, images of fire and overturned cars flashing through his mind before he banished them with a fierce shake of his head.

 "Nevermind," he said. "Besides-" He was interrupted by the shrill, clear ringing of the bell that signaled the beginning of the school day. "School's started." He walked to his seat that sat in the back next to the window as students began to walk into the classroom.