pump up the volume » original

✧➴EIGHT

┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐
EIGHT
radio silence
└────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘

HENRY DROPPED OFF Em and Maeve on the corner of Berkshire Lane and Dixon Road. For the duration of the ride to Candor Park, Em felt like a little kid again. Maeve and Henry's sober voices drifted into the backseat of the Camaro, though Em hadn't been listening much to their words.  His arms crossed over his chest defiantly, facing the window to watch the blend of orange and red whirl past him as the Camaro picked up speed.  His fists clenched periodically, as if he was clutching the throttle of his motorcycle.

        Everyone shot down the idea for him to take his motorcycle, claiming it to be too loud and obvious.  "If we don't want to get caught, we have to keep a low profile," Octavia had said. He thought that logic was absolutely fucking stupid.  Henry's cherry-red Camaro wasn't any better.  He would've continued to push the matter if he hadn't noticed Maeve's growing uneasiness around the situation.  They weren't friends, barely even acquaintances, but he wasn't going to send her into an anxiety attack.  He may be an asshole, but he wasn't a dick.

        The walk to the Wicker residence was only supposed to be five minutes but Em found himself checking his watch every thirty seconds. He didn't even want to be here, at least if Ros was here things would be a bit more tolerable, but she'd volunteered him and bounced, leaving him to complete the mission with Maeve Czerny.

        Maeve wasn't terrible. In fact, she's probably the most tolerable out of everyone in the entire Solve-It Squad (or whatever the fuck they were calling themselves). Any other pairing would've prompted Em to go nuclear.  A brief moment passed and Em envisioned his current companion being replaced with Tatiana.  The two would never make it to the Wicker house, driving the other to the brink of insanity instead. Maeve, on the other hand, he could bear.

        "What exactly are we saying again?" Em asked after he checked his watch for the third time in a span of a minute.

        Maeve glanced up at the taller boy.  The pair's stark difference in height looked ridiculously hilarious to any one passing by.  A man in an black SUV even slowed, doing a double take to ensure his eyes did not deceive him.

        "We go to Candor Park High School and we're doing a research paper on recent events in the town's history, hence the legal pads." She gestured to the two pads of paper tucked into the crook of her elbow.

        Em nodded slowly, tucking back a portion of his hair behind his ear. He made a mental note to get a hair cut when they were done here. The scissors he used last time worked decently well. "Okay."

        Maeve's smile faltered momentarily, but Em still saw. Not even Maeve knew what to say to him. His wayward reputation preceded him, bruised knuckles condemning him further, often times sending his peers scurrying in the opposite direction. On the plus side, he cleared halls faster than Tristan Richardson's rancid body odor and never worried about elbows finding their way into his side during passing periods.

        "I like your outfit today," she said after a few beats. A general statement like that could only mean one thing; she was testing the waters, determining whether or not he would bite her head off like he did Tatiana on the night of the murder.