Untitled Journal Number Four

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As the cross-country season continued on, my placing got better and better. My pace was adjusted by the assistant coach, and it turned out that I did much better with the changes. I was consistently getting in the top ten runners.

    Our last meet before fall break was after school. The course was hilly, and it would be windy.

    I ate my carrots next to Titus. He and Miguel were talking about the Walker murder again. Apparently, Mr. Walker had been seen in Milwaukee. They were trying to track him down to bring him in for questioning.

    "Mikey, what does your mom say about all of this?" Andrew asked.

    Three carrots were left in my plastic bag.

    "I haven't heard her say much about it. She's been working overtime a lot. I don't see her much," I said reaching for another carrot stick.

    "Probably busy trying to nail down Brian. That guy's tweaked in the head," Miguel knocked his knuckles against his skull twice.

    Andrew sat a bit straighter, "What do you mean?"

    Miguel's smirk coated his face like clown paint. He was now an entertainer.

    "Well..." he drew out. "I looked up some stuff on him. The dude's got like three felonies. He served time in the early two thousands. It was assault charges but he got out on good behavior. He was only locked away for like ten years, but his sentence was way longer than that."

    Alex's shoulders stiffened, "Why would they let a freak like that out on the streets? If he's prone to violence, then keep him locked up."

    He kept muttering about his opinion on the matter. I finished chewing the last carrot.

    Andrew's hands moved like he was trying to wring water out of his fingers.

    "What about the daughter? Any updates on her or whatever?"

    Miguel's eyebrows nearly joined his hairline.

    "You guys wanna know what I found on her?"

    They all nodded while I sat looking out the window. The wind carried leaves around the air. It reminded me that despite the crisp weather, the wind could assist me in the meet today. At some times it would be a burden, but at others, it would push me faster. I made a mental note to raise my awareness during the race. I'd lean into the help and use the reserved energy to push through the difficult parts.

    "She's our age. She goes to the private school in town. Must mean that her parents are rich or something–"

    "--Or they're devout Catholics. My cousins go there. They don't have a spare penny to their name, but they can name all the saints in alphabetical order by their middle names," Alex countered.

    "Yeah, or that I guess. Anyway, as weird as your cousins are, this chick is weirder. I found literally nothing for her digital footprint. She has no profiles online, no familial mentions of her by anyone else, not even a school picture on their website. I hacked into the directory as a staff member and her picture is just blank. She gets decent grades, does no extracurriculars, and has no outstanding remarks on her report cards. It's like she doesn't even exist."

    "But have you googled her?" Titus asked with a strange inflection in his voice.

    "Okay. Screw you, Titus. And yes." The guys laughed. It was a joke.

    "And?" Titus smirked.

    Despite the wind outside and the chill in the air, the sky was clear and blue. If I saw a picture of it, I might say it looked like a warm summer day. It was misleading. As was the moon in the sky. It always bothered me when the sun and the moon shared the heavens above us. How could enemies dance together right in front of me? The moon must be striking back–an offensive turn in its constant game against the sun.

    "Literally only three things come up. One is of the news article from September, one is of her mother's obituary, and the last one is like an award from her childhood," Miguel took a long drink of his pop.

    "What did she win?" I asked.

    "I dunno. Let me look again," he replied as he tapped his thumbs on his phone screen.

    A few moments passed while I silently rooted for the moon from my cafeteria seat behind a glass wall.

    "It was an art competition. She did these charcoal drawings in junior high. They look super demented."

    He passed his phone around and each of my friends cursed under their breath as they saw the image on the screen,

    When it was my turn, I was entranced by a highly contrasting picture. I supposed that's what charcoal meant. The girl must have used the dark color on white paper to show some kind of deep battle between the paper and her image. The darkness on the page scattered over itself in some spots and glided over the paper in others. It was odd that one color could have different shades of darkness. I didn't know what I was looking at. I tried to see a distinctive shape or design.

    Miguel took his phone back.

    "And she was what...thirteen when she drew that? No doubt someone was beating the shit outta her at that point already," Andrew's voice was heavy. I looked up. He wasn't going to cry. He was just affected by the image. All of them were.

    I looked at the clock on the wall. Lunch was nearly over. I ate quickly today.

    "Probably her dad by the sounds of it," Titus said.

    We sat in silence until the bell rang. Alex was the first to leave the table. Andrew followed him. They had class together after lunch. Titus and Miguel had study hall in the library. I went to my English Literature class alone.