SEVEN REASONS

2.

The next day the school was under shock, or at least the adults were. How was it possible that there were barely twenty people in an entire building who were sorry about the death of a boy?

Amber walked through the hallways, moving from classroom to classroom to attend classes, and tried to keep her ears outstretched to capture every sentence that contained the victim's name. Of course, there was no talk of anything else and everyone was willing to bet on who the killer was, a little less, however, to cooperate in the investigation.

The police came to the school and the principal had to explain to the students that many would be questioned, with parental consent, to try to reconstruct the last hours of Martin's life. For some strange reason no one seemed to willingly accept to provide information.

They also called Amber, on Tuesdays, between physics and literature time.

"Amber Costa, can you follow me to the office?" the principal himself with an agent, what an honor!

Amber better put the bag on her shoulders and followed them to a room with a nameplate: principal Adam Miller; Inside were Inspector Micheal Davis and the girl's father.

"Amber, take a seat, we'd like to ask you a few things," the principal began.

"All right, but I wasn't seeing Martin, so I can't help you."

"How strange, apparently no one in this school attended him," the inspector joked, then went on, "Did you know Martin Jamison?"

"He was my neighbor, so I've known him since I was little."

"And you didn't hang out? Didn't you even make your way to school together?"

"Martin used to drive to class, me on the bus. So no, we don't even make the road together."

He didn't know why he was behaving that way, perhaps because he had heard that previous interrogations had been terrifying and that some students had come out of the room in tears.

"So you saw Martin every day, but you didn't talk and you didn't cross paths, right?"

"That's right."

"Amber, who do you hang out with in your spare time? Who are you going out with?"

"What does my private life have to do with Martin Jamison?" she blurted out.

Her father beckoned her to answer.

"I don't go out much, I prefer to stay in the house and do something else."

"For example?" the inspector settled in the chair.

Amber decided not to answer.

"Do you know Nora Morson?"

unfortunately yes, he would have liked to answer.

"Yes," he said.

"He claims that in his spare time you don't hang out because Martin Jamison has told your classmates that you're on drugs."

Amber faded. He didn't even try to protest or ask how he knew those things. Simply her skin, usually olive, became pale.

"According to Nora, last winter you would have put your hands around Martin's neck and said, "If you don't stop, You're going to kill yourself, you've ruined my life." Do you know?" a mocking grin appeared.

Her father preceded her:

"I thought it was an informal chat, it seems to me an interrogation."

"Does it make a difference?" asked the other, smasked for the interruption.

"It makes a lot of it. If it was an interrogation, I'd like to call a lawyer first."

Silence fell and Amber squeezed more into the sweatshirt, feeling too cold. He felt his icy hands pressed on his thighs and didn't know how to warm up. He wanted to leave.

"Come on gentlemen, I think it's obvious that Amber might not even answer..." attempted the principal.

"I don't remember if I said those words, but I definitely would never kill Martin. Many things have changed since that day."

"Yes, for example, a boy has died."