Marilyn

Marilyn

I really should start keeping up with the news. Real news, gossip news, world news, cult news… it was all news in some form or the other. For the most part, I did, but my information center wasn’t quite the hub it should be. Not quite the hub I wanted it to be, anyway. So, who could I convince to fix that? If I started chatting with Patrick, he could keep me updated with club news and water-polo gossip. Calvin with the popular guys could bring me up to speed on who’s who and what’s what, if I were willing to wade through his childish behavior. Sports? Definitely Vivian. No question about it. Now for non-school related news. I narrowed my eyes. Who in the school needed to know everything? Kyung, of course. Besides, he spilled all when he talked. Next question: where could I catch them? Blank walls were great places for answers.

            Calvin would be easy. Every free period, including lunch, he’d head out to the courtyard and play music. A combination of rock and whatever was popular, except for genuine Pop, if I recalled correctly. And I did. I always did. Patrick’d probably be easiest to catch in the advisor’s office during lunch; he liked the chairs in there better than in the cafeteria. Besides, the advisor he ate with gave out lollipops, and who doesn’t like lollipops? Well, plenty of people, but that was beside the point. Vivian, I shared my English class with, so there would be no problem sneaking over to her table before the teacher walked in. Kyung. Where could I catch Kyung? Sometimes, he hung out with Calvin, so there was a possibility I could catch him at the same time as Calvin if worst came to worst. There had to be a better place to find him though--I didn’t want to make it look like I was using their brains. My gaze drifted off of the wall and onto some lockers. There was a better place to find him. On the bus, of course. Perfect.

            “Hey Marilyn.” Speak of the devil, here was stop number one. I hadn’t even needed to go to the advisor’s office. Too bad--a blue lollipop would’ve been good right then.

            “Morning Pat.” How was his mood, how was his mood? Unkempt hair: check. Button-down shirt: check. Shoes: sneakers, as always. General tidiness: poor. Green eyes were shifting around, not focusing on me. Curious. “Who’re you waiting for?”

            “Hmm? Oh. My sister. I was supposed to meet her here ten minutes ago.” Sister: Caroline Weed, Pokémon-playing sophomore with an artistic flair.

            “You’ve checked the art room, right?” He opened his mouth, closed it slowly, then repeated. He genuinely hadn’t thought of that. It was almost incredible how much people didn’t think of, even with their relatives. I should do a study on that someday.

            “That’s… that’s… yeah. I should go check. See you.” Trying to leave before I was through with him? How rude!

            “Wait, Pat.”

            “Yeh?” It was nearly noon, and the bags under his eyes hadn’t faded. It almost looked like he had resigned himself to his fate.

“How’s the volunteer club working out?”

“The volunteer club..?” He squinted at me weakly. “Oh. Yeah. It’s good. I’ve been pushing to let us help fix that house that caught fire last week, and Laurie’s got us signed up to clear out some trails around town.” He yawned. Laurie Schuman: the girl who scored worse on standardized tests than me, but got higher grades in class. She’d be the Valedictorian this year unless I chose to bring my GPA up from a 4-2.

“Trail cleaning sounds like fun.” Lie. “I bet Laurie can’t wait till it starts.” Truth.

“Yeah, I guess. She’s out today though, so it’ll have to wait.” Schuman, out from the Fall flu going around. No surprise there--nearly everyone had gotten it, and it was a right miserable b*****d of a flu this year.

“Too bad. Pat, you should take melatonin before you go to bed. It’ll help you fall asleep.” He blinked at me, his eyelids sticking together momentarily.

“Okay. Melatoxin.” That sounded dangerous. “See you, Marilyn.” He turned and trudged off, presumably to the art studio. No, not presumably. Definitely. People could be so predictable if you poked them in the right direction. Although, it was a bit lucky to have met him in the hall here--normally he started in a different wing before coming to lunch. I’d search his brain more tomorrow. Right now, I should go find Calvin.

The hallway was emptying out now that the second-lunch mob of students had shoved their way into the cafeteria. I was technically a second-luncher too, but I’d had a free beforehand. I could find Calvin without any problem if I went while they were all eating. I turned my gaze from the cafeteria and started down the main hall, where people speckled the white of the walls with their shirts and bags.

Darkridge was a larger school, and the student body reflected that. We had everyone from the standard stereotypes and everyone that didn’t fall perfectly into one all right next to each other. Patrick was a do-gooder type; his clique was with the people that were generally selfless. I considered myself a chameleon type, able to change surface colors as needed. In a school like Darkridge, I considered that an advantage. And what I considered to be, was.

A flash of black hair passed me, attached to a body slightly taller than mine. Was everybody out of their usual area today? “Kyung.” Ignored. “Kyung!” He didn’t pause. ”Ahn Minh Kyung!” The student screeched to a halt and turned at my call. Leave it to the full name to bring anyone to a dead stop.

“Marilyn! I was just out looking for you!” Fascinating. He probably had forgotten the homework his first period teacher had given him. We both had the same teacher, but took the class in different periods, so we never met.

“Really? What’s up?” Rhetorical questions to satisfy these people. Maybe one day I might not need to even ask.

“The homework--you know, for Mrs. Antoneccio--was it on 6.3, or 6.5?” Kyung was one of those students who never took down the homework, the type to trust his memory implicitly until it failed.

“6.5. A through G, except for D.”

“Thanks!” He nearly took off again before I managed to get my own question in.

“Wait, Kyung!” He turned back and smiled. I forced myself to return it, unused muscles being stretched. “That fire the other day--wasn’t it near your house?” A quick frown, his way of remembering. Now, broad smile.

“Oh, sure! It was about a kilometer away, so nothing to worry about, really. Thanks though.” His face twitched; he was thinking of anything else. “Apparently, it was arson.”

“No!” My sarcasm would fly right over his head. “Really?” His smile showed teeth.

“Yeah!” Case in point. “Apparently, the Humboldts’ neighbor--a Mr. Robert C. Pettigrew--wanted to see how fast the grass between their houses could catch on fire.”

“Idiot.” Actually, I would’ve done the same thing, just had have a dirt line dug out so the flames couldn’t have gotten out of control. Problems never turned into problems if it was all thought through. I should know, I’d proven it that many times.

“I know, right? The police got him, and he’s going to be charged for homicide.” That was news.

“Someone was killed?” Well, obviously. Kyung would fill in the rest.

“Yeah, John Humboldt’s grandma.” John Humboldt: a freshman with a javelin arm made of gold. “She’d broken her leg recently, and couldn’t get out of the area before she burned.” A frown flitted across his face, and I lowered my eyes as if to honor grandma Humboldt’s memory. Couldn’t he hurry up already? He had more to say, that was obvious. His smile came back and lit his eyes. “Oh, and just for you…” He leaned in a bit closer. “Someone got murdered!” Jesus, I needed to keep up with the news!

“Really?” Fake question. “What happened?” Real question.

“I’m not sure yet.” Fail. “The Lewiston department hasn’t released all the info yet, even though it happened early last night.” Interesting. Lewiston’s Police Department normally had everything all tidied up within six hours of the event, and it was, at the very least, eight hours past that. “I’ll let you know when I figure out more, ‘kay? Special for you.” I forced another smile onto my face, making it reach my eyes. This was almost painful, but it was wicked convincing.

“Thanks Kyung.” His smile nearly matched my own, the difference being that his was real.

“Sure, sure!” He spared a glance at his watch, then made a face. “I gotta run five minutes ago. There’re fries for lunch!” He turned and sped off down the hall. “Hey, save me a seat on the bus!”

“Will do!” I doubted that he heard my answer, but, he had been known to surprise me. Besides, it kept up appearances for the few others that were in the hall. For them, I kept that small smile on my face. At least one of them, Maia, would go running down the hall after Kyung if she so much as thought that I was fake, and I had worked way too hard to establish that so-called friendship to let it get ruined by one blab-mouthed teenager.

I kept that small smile until I passed the library. How much time did I have? Another ten minutes. Calvin, teenager though he may be, was a prodigiously slow eater. It was healthy, sure, but a bit strange coming from a big guy like him. He should still be out in the courtyard, and I should still have enough time to catch him during lunch if I hurried.

The connecting hall I turned into had more traffic than the main hall, in part because it was the primary route from the cafeteria to the gym, and in part because one of the classes had just let out. Room 316; Mr. Gasquet, European History and U.S. AP. He had a tendency to throw erasers at people if they didn’t shut up.

            “M-lyn!” Enter Nora, direct from U.S. I shoved through the crowd as well as any student could, but she shoved faster. “How’s it going, Emmy?” Wait for it… wait for it… Nora gave me a slap on the back, then cozied on up to me. “How ya doin’ today, Lyn?” I rolled my eyes. “Great? Great! I’m doing pretty well myself, I must say. You know, just scored a casual hundred and two on my test.” Yay. Whoopadeedoo. Why do I care?

            “Nice.”

            “I know, right! It’s, like, totally awesome!” If it were possible for her to get any closer to me, she did. She didn’t know about personal space, she never had. “Hey, I hear that Calvin is still available.” No, he wasn’t. “And that you’re friends with the man.” ‘Friends’ was relative. I knew where this was going, so no, I wouldn’t. “Put in a good word for me, ‘kay M-lyn?”

            “Sure.” Sure. Nora didn’t keep up with the news; she didn’t realize Calvin and his girlfriend were still together and still going strong, and that I’d predicted they would for a while. Let her languor in the agony once she found out. She deserved it. Nora grinned and took her arm from my shoulders. Finally.

            “I knew I could count on you!” Wait for it… I took her shoulder bump without a flinch. “Such a good girl, M-lyn! Talk to you later!” Yeah, she would. And she had officially made me late for that chat with Calvin. Was it ironic that she caused me to be late on what she considered her mission? Possibly. One day, I should start tallying up how many people interrupted me to ask me to do what I was already doing. The number would be high, I know.

            I still had three minutes before the bell rang to end second-lunch. I wouldn’t be able to make it to Calvin’s location, but if I timed it right, I could catch him just on my side of the courtyard door, probably near the water fountain. It all depended upon how much of a hurry he was in.

            Chorus let out a minute early; the crush from the largest class was almost unnavigable. Chorus, because nearly every third person was humming a similar tune under their breath. Whatever it was, it was catchy.

            Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned. Rachel was back from the flu. I felt a small smile work its way onto my face, and I did nothing to stop it. Ray was the only person I considered a real friend at this school, the next closest being Kyung, but he was so far down the ladder comparatively that he was almost not worth mentioning.

            A shier girl, Rachel wasn’t much of a talker. If ever she felt like she needed to interject something in a conversation, she would wait till there was a pause and she could speak at a normal speed. Her clique wasn’t with the shy bookworms however. Hers was with the closet fan-girls. I may not know what they were all fans of, but at least I knew who they were. That’s more than can be said for most of the rest Darkridge’s students.

            “The flu was miserable, wasn’t it?” Brown eyes blinked, then flashed tired. My smile disappeared; something was up.

            “Yeah. It was.” Something was going on, the question was what. Maybe, she still was a little bit sick, but normally that showed in skin-tone as much as eyes, and her face was the proper shade. Did her sister hurt herself?

            “What’s happening?” She tried to smile but failed. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t minor.

            “You always can tell, can’t you.” My eyes narrowed momentarily, and I frowned.  Another tired smile never met her eyes. Something was wrong, really wrong. “Laurie is dead.”

            I blinked. Laurie… Schuman… hadn’t Pat just told me she was sick? Or, wait, had I inferred that? I blinked again, and Rachel started crying. Silently--she didn’t want to disturb everyone else--but crying nonetheless. What was the proper thing to do with a crying friend? Pat her on the back? Share comforting words?

            “What happened?” Or ask further into the cause of her sadness. Way to go, Marilyn. Way to go. She sniffled, watery brown eyes refocused on me. Way to go.

            “Murder.” Well, yeah, if this was the murder that Kyung had mentioned. Wait, stay comforting, Marilyn. Stay comforting. How the hell did I do comforting?

            “Oh.” Hey, wait. Since Laurie was dead, that meant that I was next in line for Valedictorian. Not a good thought right now, Marilyn. But how did I comfort? “Did they catch the killer?” I wasn’t good at this whole thing, so I put an arm over Rachel’s shoulders. That felt like it would be okay.

            “Not yet.” Ray, I noted, was a strong kid. Her closest cousin had just died, and she was still giving me answers. I knew there was a reason why I liked this girl. She shuddered against me.

            “Do they have any idea who did this?” Information, or friendship? I should really choose friendship; it would pay off in the long-run. “You don’t need to answer.” There. Fixed.

            “They have his signature.” Signature, as in his name? Or signature, as in this was a serial killer? The bell rang. “And Laurie’s dead. And now I don’t know what to do. And Laurie’s dead, Marilyn. She’s dead.” I’d gotten that. Comforting, Marilyn!

            “I know.” Now what? “It’ll be okay.” Fantastic. Rachel pulled out of my arm to look me in the eyes. If I weren’t me, I reckon I’d be crying at her expression.

            “No, it won’t.”

            “I’m sure they’ll catch him�"“

            “Like they did five years ago?” She interrupted me? Rachel Cavanaugh, interrupting me? That was a first. And wait, five years ago? She was changing from sad to angry. Great. “Don’t you see, Marilyn? They didn’t get him the first time, and now, my cousin paid for it!” The first time? Was this an ongoing event? I blinked again. “You don’t get it, do you?” This all was coming from sadness and shock, and it was fascinating the change Rachel was going through. Less analytical, more feel-y, Marilyn. Right.

            “I…” I had to admit it. Wait, no I didn’t. “I wasn’t here five years ago.” She had said five years, hadn’t she? “What happened?” Her eyes narrowed, and if I hadn’t known that she was harmless, I would’ve stepped back.

            “Serial killer, Marilyn. Do I need to spell it out for you?” Serial killer five years ago..?

            “Yes please.” Rachel’s face twisted, something I never thought I’d see on her.

            “F**k you, Marilyn.” Wait, what? “Know it all. The one time something actually matters, you’ve got no f*****g clue. None! And here I thought you’d actually be able to help me.” I stood there, wide-eyed. “And you know what, you’re colder than a b***h in Hell.” She laughed sharply. “And I thought that of everyone, I could come to you. I’m an idiot, Marilyn. I am such an idiot. Any you know why? Do you know why? No. Of course f*****g not. Laurie’s dead.” Was she sad again now..? “Laurie’s dead, and I can’t do anything about it, and she’s never coming back, and�"“ She threw herself back into my arms, sobbing. What was I supposed to do? One second, she cursed me to my grave, the next she cried on me.

            Grief was a fascinating thing. It could cause the shiest, nicest of girls to turn into a rather scary little demon. It could also change that demon back into this little girl, maybe five, who cried in the nearest arms. Her next stage should be denial. The second bell rang, but Ray didn’t move. She wasn’t crying silently anymore, either; her great racking sobs shook me as much as they did her.

 I’m not sure exactly how long we stood there, but I’d guess more than four minutes. Four minutes of nothing but crying. Nothing but sniveling. Nothing but emotion in one of its rawest forms. I hate emotion. Yes, it’s ironic, given that you need emotion to hate emotion, but I hate it. It takes the strongest people and turns them into these sniveling train wrecks. It makes lovers blind, arguments pointless, and people happy and miserable in equal measure. Emotions can’t be controlled, yet so much logic was based off of them.

Thinking of logic, knowledge. Ray had acted like it was common knowledge that there had been serial killings five years ago. It probably was, but that must’ve been wrapped up before I moved here. They must have been rather horrific, given that I hadn’t heard about them in the past four years; the timing was just so close! And what had she meant when they said ‘like they did five years ago’? I narrowed my eyes some. If they had caught the killer five years ago, then there couldn’t possibly be a ‘like’ with that tone of voice unless he had escaped. Escaped, or there was a copy-cat. But who had the motive to kill Laurie Schuman? No one in the school hated her, and anyone that didn’t like here merely didn’t know her. Even I liked her to a degree, and she was my rival for scholarships. Someone outside of school then, but I didn’t know enough about her personal life to make guesses; I had already been wrong once today. So, what did I--

“S-sorry, Marilyn.” Rachel’s coherency had returned. “I… I guess I lost it.” Her face was a blotchy red, and she had snot everywhere.

“It’s okay. You’ve got a reason.” She tried to smile; it was wan and lifeless.

“It’s… it’s just that Laurie, she practically raised me. And now she’s gone. And now--now I don’t know what to do.” Ray tried to laugh. It was brittle. “I guess I made a right mess of your shirt.” She had. It was soaked in tears, spit, and boogers, but so be it. That’s what happened when emotions took over your head. “S-sorry.”

“Human error, don’t worry about it.” I’ve used all of my comforting for the day. “Why don’t you head to the nurse’s office?”

“Yeah, okay, I guess. It’s just�"“

“I know. It sucks. Really, just head on over. They’ll understand.” And I won’t have to deal with you anymore. Was that rude? Yeah, that was definitely rude.

“Yeah, okay.” She hesitated. Why did she hesitate?

“Bye.” Get the hint. You’re a smart girl, Rachel Cavanaugh, so get the hint.

“Okay.” She got it! Ray turned away, and I tracked her until she stepped into the main hall. She may be my friend, but there was only so much I could handle in one day without cracking. Finding Calvin would have to wait. Right now, I needed get the snot out of my shirt. Why was I looking for Calvin again? Right. To fix my news center. Why? Because I could accept that I had missed a fire, and I could accept that I had missed who had the flu, but missing the murder of the single most famous girl in my grade? That was plain ridiculous.