Jacqueline || BWWM

Chapter Thirty Eight

So I didn't care for this chapter when I published it, so I added about two hundred more words to it.

Monday, September 25th 2017

"I hate family reunions." Hazel starts what I know is going to be a long rant. She's gone a whole weekend and a full school day without once texting me an ounce about what happened. Knowing her, I predicted it was because she wanted to talk face to face-she's old fashioned in that way- not because she had nothing to complain about.

I was right.

"Why do we even have them, anyway?" She huffs, blowing her black, side bangs out of her eyes. They immediately fall back into place, adding to her already explicit frustration. "I mean, it's not like anyone likes going anyway."

Personally, I would love to have Hazel's problem. Going to a family reunion sounds like so much fun. If I close my eyes until all I see is the black of my eyelids, I can kinda image what it would be like. Seeing all my little cousins-I would have cousins in this life- grow big. Having grandparents-I would have those too-tell me how old and mature I look. Eating tons of food. Laughing. Playing stupid board games instead of having a barbecue because it rained-That's what happened to Hazel-all sounds so surreal. One day if I'm still alive, I want to have a life like that. In the meantime, I might as well comfort my miserable friend.

"It couldn't have been all bad, Haz." I say, adding a tight smile to the ending of my words when she glowers at me.

"Oh, it was. I never thought I'd live to say this, but I'm actually so glad to be back at school." To emphasize her point, Hazel actually stops walking and hugs a nearby locker. She's three seconds short of full on making out with it when I pull her away.

"We're not allowed to kiss lockers, Haz."

Two weeks prior to meeting Hazel, I never would've dreamed such words would ever leave my mouth. Two weeks later though, and everything's changed. Hazel has torn my definition of normal into so many pieces that I can't distinguish it anymore. Life with her is like riding a roller coaster with a thousand dips. I love it.

"We're not?" She pouts, staring up-I'm wearing three inch wedge boots-at me. Her normally little green-brown eyes look large due to the heavy amount of eyeliner their supporting. The blue eyeshadow that covers her lids makes the brown flecks in her eyes pop out, which in turn melts my cold heart enough to allow a few ounces of sympathy to flow through.

"No, babe," I start, pulling her into my side as we walk. She rests her small head on my shoulder, drinking in every ounce of attention I bestow onto her. "We aren't."

"That's stupid." Hazel grumbles, pulling out of my embrace as we near her locker.

Though school is ended less than five minutes ago, no one is really in the hallway. Our closest neighbors are a well rounded guy ten lockers down and this short, curvy, blonde six lockers in the other direction. The other kids are more than likely huddled up in the cafeteria or the front of the school.

"That's life."

"Life sucks."

I think back to cuddling with Finn last night, and a slow smile grazes my lips. "It could be worse."

Hazel spins the lock on her locker to forty-five while saying, "True. A great example would be if I didn't have the greatest news ever." She shoves all of her books into the storage space and steps aside.

"And what would that be?" I bend down to my knees and arrange Hazel's textbooks and notebooks into a neat stack before putting them in the blue--the current color one strip of her hair is--bin. I carefully place my math textbook into the little pink bin I got for myself, and stand up from the floor.

Once Hazel's sure she's got my full attention, her little oval face lights up in a way I've grown to know as her 'I'll-burst-open-if-I-don't-start-taking-at-a-million-miles-per-hour' facial expression. She takes in a few quick breaths to calm herself down before starting. "I'll get to the good part in a moment, but first, backstory."

"Alright." I close her locker and pull her hand, leading her in the direction of my locker and the school entrances.

"Remember when you asked me what I thought happened to the Hathways?"

My interest level in our conversation accelerates, but I try hard to not let it show. Hazel still doesn't know the real reason why I'm so interested in uncovering what really happened the night of the fire, call it selfishness, but I plan on keeping it that way. "Yeah."

"Well, that got me thinking: if I know it wasn't a natural fire, then who did it?" Hazel pauses her talking and stares at me sideways. To the common eye, it would look like she was asking me to answer her, but to me, it looks like she's being creepy.

"Haz, you ok?" I slide my hand up and down in front of her face. Nothing happens for a couple seconds, it's like she's frozen in time or something. That thought is a flash short of making me experience a panic attack when Hazel blinks a couple times before standing straight and shaking her head.

"I was thinking. You just made me lose my thoughts." She groans, overlooking the fact that she scared me sh'tless. I have an arg to tell her she needs to learn to think in a normal, non creepy way, but I decide against it before the words ever leave my mind. Hazel wouldn't be the quirky girl I've grown to adore if she didn't have her little weird habits.

"What about the fire? Who do you think was behind it?"

By the time we reach my locker, it feels like no one is in the school except us. Silence bounces off the walls in a beautiful, peaceful manner I'm not used to hearing during the day. I can't help but wish it was like this everyday. Hazel smiles at the couple teachers who pass by us, though none pay any attention to her or I as I spin the combination to my locker while Hazel continues. "Right. I researched a bit about it, and got even more interested. Problem was the more interested I got, the more questions I had. As it turns out, there's not much answers. So I asked my Dad a couple questions until he got annoyed and gave up something useful."

Much to my own annoyance, Hazel pauses for dramatic effect. I hold my breath and pause rearranging my books to look at her, begging for her to spill her beans with my eyes.

"The police caught one of the guys who was involved in the fire a few years after it happened."

"Really? How?!" My voice is frantic with anticipation. It feels like someone has just taken a fist to my stomach, knocking all the air out of me. Weird thing is, I don't really mind the pain as I grib Hazel's unexpecting hand with all my might. She's my life line in this moment. I'm so mind blown by the possibility that there's someone out there that knows what happened--that was involved-- in the fire that killed my parents that I'm not really paying attention to my actions, or how desperate I look. Hazel pry's my fingers off her arm gently, while looking at me with cautious eyes and a slightly twisted mouth--it's like her lips can't decide if they want to be a calming smile or an alarmed sneer. I try not to grimace as I look at the lasting impression of my fingers on her small arm.

"Tyrel Arthur, that's the guy's name, was hired to kill this big shot millionaire, Teresa King. He shot, but missed. When put on trial, he confessed for that and a whole bunch of other crap before beating up the attorney questioning him."

Teresa...Teresa?

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Love you all, Liv

DP: Dec.8.17
WC: 1,359