"How was school today?"
Mom made the same as yesterday, and I really wasn't in the mood for green beans and left over meatloaf, but it was the best she could do. She got home at nine PM, I was lucky she even still had the mood to eat with me.
"Loud," was the only word I could think to say, she gave a surprised nod. "I bet. I heard about that boy who died, did you know him?"
There he is again.
"No, not really," I replied, hesitantly taking another bite of the slightly soggy meat.
"This is kinda gross, huh?" she said with a sigh, dragging her fork back and forth through it. I faintly smiled in agreement, she shook her head.
"If you're still hungry we can order out."
"It's fine. I ate a lot at school," I lied, which was easier, because she seemed satisfied with that answer.
"Oh! You'll never guess who came into the shop today," she said in a much more cheerful tone. "Aunt Mary?"
"What? No, that girl you like."
"I don't like any girls, mom."
"Not even Andi Rogers?"
My eyes shot to hers instantly, "she got a haircut?"
Mom laughed, "I knew you liked her! She got bangs, she looks so much more womanly than I remember. She's a beautiful girl."
Andi Rogers was the only girl I would look twice at. I don't mean to sound high and mighty about it, but I'm not really a people person, especially when it comes to girls.
I've liked her since the fourth grade, which I doubt she even knows my name, but she's talked to me once or twice. That's at least something.
"I'm gonna go finish my homework," I stood up with my plate in my hand, watching my mom wave her hand at me. "Leave it, I'll take care of it."
I lied. I've already done my homework at school, I've actually done extra just to pass the time.
Maybe that's why I have no friends. I do homework for fun because there's nothing else to do. Not that I'm complaining, I don't think I have much in common with people enough to be friends.
The only reason I consistently talk to Lucas is because I'm his only friend, and Lucas has a hard time finding people to play games with him.
Looking at the equation a second time, I slowly started to write it out, about to come to a conclusion before an unsettling image flashed into my mind.
My pencil dropped from my fingers down onto my notebook.
Why am I thinking of that?
Why would Bobby even mess around with a dead person's photo? Was that even Jaxon Walker? I couldn't match a name to a face, it beats me if that was just a regular photo of a guy I've seen in school who just happened to not show up to school today.
Then who would the actual Jaxon Walker be?
No, that'd be too much work, that must've been him.
That looked disturbingly too real to be photoshopped that well... What could've caused a death like that? Sticking electric metal rods into someone's eyes and chest? That's the only thing that could possibly make sense, but even then, how would he logically do that to himself three times before dying?
So... Murder? Was he murdered?
I fell onto my bed before turning off the lamp. It doesn't matter. I don't know him, I shouldn't care so much. The police will eventually tell us the details after time, the old people in this town are relentlessly without shame. They'll get it out of them.
