23 : The Jacket

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When I go home, I'm exhausted. I open up Paige's diary, looking for a new lead, but the words blur together and I find myself re-reading the same paragraphs over and over and taking nothing from them. What have I been reading for the last hour?

My phone buzzing jolts me from my half-sleep-zombie state.

Avalon : Sylv won his fight, by the way. He seemed annoyed that you and Cliff missed it.

Me : More important news – Cliff has no motive. Who now?

Avalon : I told you. We should have left his secret alone.

The guilty feeling returns so I take my pills and go to sleep – rather than standing another minute with the loop in my brain.

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On Friday morning, I wake up to a coughing fit. Great, another cold. I wear my warmest sweater and puffer jacket with jeans rather than a coat, skirt and stockings. My breath makes white puffs when I get outside to the cool air. I can't wait for summer, even though winter is also pretty sweet. I go to school with Uncle Pete instead of on the moped, because it's too cold to be in the wind.

The day goes by slowly. School always does. I swear hours are longer on weekdays. There's just a million other things I should be doing right now. I should be helping Belle or helping Iris or helping Paige.

Which reminds me that now I have no leads. Adrian and I instantly picked the parents on the Wittle murders, maybe Paige's parents had something do with it? I might convince Sylv and Avalon to come with me to speak to them once they get back from whatever business trip they're on now.

Our table at the cafeteria is filled with everyone but Cliff. Jess takes Paige's seat again and I find myself gritting my teeth. Thinks she can replace her just because she's also blonde and smart? No thanks, Paige is a one and only.

"And then Diana ate my pack of chips too! I'll never forgive her," Avalon grumbles, pulling snacks out of her backpack. "She gets her own groceries; I don't know why she always steals mine."

Avalon and her little sister Diana always have food wars – it's probably the only thing they ever fight about.

I look over at Sylv, sporting soft bruises on his knuckles. I instinctively bite my lip, thinking back to all the times I've iced his bruises. I feel heat rushing to my cheeks and I try refocusing my attention back on Avalon's story.

"So then I told her, if you frickin' steal my food again, I'm going to throw all your groceries in the bin while you're at football training."

"Ouch," I mutter as the bell rings.

The group disperses and I watch Sylv and Jess walk to class together.

I head to my locker to grab my books, remembering that I haven't done the homework. F*ck. Mrs. Fiedler is going to kill me – I haven't done the modern history homework for the last four classes. I literally have no excuse. The only thing I've been doing in my spare time is reading Paige's diary and letting guilt eat me up: this weeks guilt episode is about accusing one of my best friends of murder. I wonder what's next.

I decide to wait in the toilets while the halls clear then go to sick bay to avoid Mrs. Fiedler *ss whooping me. She rarely would, but the last two lessons she's been in an increasingly bad mood. I'm simply not game.

Once the noise outside the door quietens, I slip outside, walking straight to the sick bay. As I pass the principal's office, I notice the familiar, ominous presence of men in uniform. What are the police doing here?

I hover outside the door, by the trophy cabinet, and try listening to what's being said.

I recognise Tallon's voice first, then Franks.

"It's come to our attention that this is not Paige's property," Franks says.

I hear scuffling as a plastic bag is dropped onto Yo's desk.

"It's been in the evidence for some time but we had no reason to assume she didn't own it," he continues.

"We think it may be school property," Talon asks. "Do you have any idea who this may belong to?"

"I will admit, it does look familiar," Yo says after a moments hesitation, "but I can't exactly put my finger on it."

I lean forward, trying desperately to take a peak at the contents of the bag.

"DNA tests are being run, but so far the only thing we've found is Paige's and her friends. The owner might just not be on our system, though, so any of your help in identifying them is crucial," Franks pleads.

I can just see Yo nodding as he picks up the plastic bag. He squints, brow furrowing, as he scrutinises it. "Yes, very familiar."

That's when it finally comes to view.

Everything stops. Everything freezes.

My jaw drops.

My heart stops.

That's his jacket.

"If anything comes to me, I'll contact you," Yo says and I imagine him brushing the greasy black fringe from his eyes and sniffling. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thankyou, we'll be in touch."

I hear scuffling and rush to the first locker I see, pretending to open it. I keep my hair in my face and hope they don't notice me.

Once they're gone, I finally take a deep breath out – I didn't even realise I had been holding it. Why was his jacket in her car? He hasn't lived in Cedar Creek for two years. Why was he here? When did she get it? Why?

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