𖥻 ❙ ━ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗘𝗧𝗬.
❝ WHERE IS MARGO ROTH BINGHAM? ❞
in which a girl goes missing, which leaves the
town to instantly open an investigation only to
be found by her former peers after they got
stuck in the same replica...
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𝗼𝗻𝗲 : tHe lASt niGhT ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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THIS NIGHTFELT LIKE non other. It felt like the night to make it. To do all the things I was afraid of doing.
And I knew my perfect partner in crime, "Hey." I greet, as soon as my feet hit the boy's floor.
"Margo?" he questiones flabbergasted. Shushing him, his brows furrow, "I need to borrow your car." I whisper.
Leaving him even more confused, "What? Are you committing felonies?" Clark asks, his voice low as he runs a hand trough his messy hair.
"Remind me, is breaking and entering a felony?" I question.
Immediately making his eyes widen. Knowing he is going to back out, I come with my best plan, yet.
"Clarke, you're going to go to Duke. Going to be a successful football player, get married to Gwen." I start, "Have babies, live your whole little life, and then you're going to die." I continue.
Holding my hand out to his bed, "In the last moments, when you're chocking on your own bile in the nursing home, you'll say to yourself: 'Well, I wasted my whole God damn life, but at least I righted some wrongs with Margo Bingham my junior year of high school. At least I carpe'd that one diem." I try.
Seeing the look, I pout, "Can't you- can't you just get Brandon, or Grizz, Madison. Anyone else?" Clark asks.
Which would be my normal go to. But not anymore. "They are part of the problem." I sigh, "What problem?"
"There are four problems." I inform the young jock. Holding my fingers up, "And your boyfriend is one of them?"
"Ex boyfriend." I correct.
Where he starts to nod to, "You drive stick?" he asks. Where I shake my head to, "Nope. But I need a get away driver anyway." I smile.
Turning around, I step half way out of his still open window. Only to see him still stand there, "Come on." I urge.
Seated in his car, he start to drive, "Where to first?" Beecher questiones, glancing at me and back to the road.
"The market out of town. It is open twenty-four seven and no one will ask questions." I direct, "Know where it is?" I continue to ask.
"Bingo." I say finding the first item on our list, "Wait, an airhorn? Why do we need an airhorn?" Clark asks confused.
Smiling at the confused written boy, I continue to walk, "All will be revealed shortly, my young friend." I reassure.
"I'm four months older then you." he reminds me. Humming I take the cap off the horn, "Oh, really? Are you?" I question.
Shaking the sound machine in my hands, "Margo-" he starts. To be cut off by me blowing the horn, "Stop." he laughs.
Shaking it again. I look suprised at the item in my hand, "It's really loud." I mutter.
As I shift my gaze back to the boy, "Were you trying to say something?" I ask, finger ready.
Parting his lips, I blow the horn again. "No, you can't do that." he denies. The loud echo sounding trough the market, only making him laugh. A sign that he isn't angry.
"What else do we need?" he questiones. Holding out the list, he reads it over, "Interesting capitalsation." he tells me.
Lowering my arm I raise my brows, "Big words." I hum. Making him raise a brow at me, "I'm a big believer of random capitalsation." I inform him.
Dropping the horn in the basket, "The rules are so unfair to the letters in the middle." I tell the athlete.
Soon we have all the items on the list. Leaving us to pay, and start the night. The amount of saran wrap cause the cassier to look at us, "It's not as weird as it looks." Clark tries.
"It's still weird." she judges. Where I innocently shrug at, paying the woman in all cash.
