Chapter 20
Mireya
Play – Picking Petals by Alyssa Grace
Dirty betting
“Blue peed next to my bed this morning…”
Hayzel looks at me with wide eyes, and within seconds I hear her snicker. I turn to look at her, and she covers her mouth, hiding her laugh with a cough. “Sorry, that’s not funny.”
“I spent an hour cleaning it off, and I had to take another shower.” I rearrange my hair before kneeling to pick Blue up and shower him with kisses.
Hayzel looks at me, confused, before shaking her head.
“What? He didn’t do it on purpose; I’m not going to hold it against him.”
“The fact that you’re more affectionate with animals than with humans doesn’t even shock me anymore.”
“They have pure souls.”
I put my cat back on my bed. My blanket with blue stars is under him, he loves it. He kneads it whenever he wants to sleep, so I leave it with him when I go out.
“What do we have this morning?” I ask Hayzel, and the shocked look she gives me irritates me.
“Mireya Vitelli? You don't know what we have this morning? I can't believe it.”
“I didn't sleep much, and I'm tired, it happens, okay?”
“We have Mr. Caldwell and then shooting practice.”
“Oh fun…" I say sarcastically.
After this morning’s little encounter with him, I feel weird about having to face him again. Why does he even think I’m smart enough to help him? If I was, I’d be out of this town so fast. Instead I’m still here trying to find a way out.
I wish I could work on it. The case is intriguing. Years of murders, same profile for the victims, but never caught the killer? Feels odd.
But if I do so, I’d be too unfocused on everything I have to achieve.
I can’t… I can’t risk it all even if it would prove to everyone that I can do more than this with my life. I’m capable of it.
Hayzel and I walk toward our first class. It’s 7:45am and the cold slaps us in the face when we head toward the principal building. Students rushed past, backpacks bouncing, and conversations were loud around us.
“Gosh, it’s so cold,” she mutters, rubbing her hands together.
I shrug, letting the chill hit me. “Yeah… but it’s waking us up.”
She rolls her eyes before replying, “I’m wide awake. No need for this.”
“You’re weak,” I tease, and she pokes my shoulder.
We turn a corner and run into Ethan. “My two favorite girls,” he says, all smiling and starting walking with us.
“Don’t you have other friends?” I ask and it makes him laugh.
“I do, but I prefer my childhood ones,” he replies before pointing at the second building. “I’m with Ms Green this morning. They sent a text to tell us that the schedule had changed.”
Hayzel pulls out her phone and squints at a new message as Ethan was talking. “Oh… wait. The administration just texted me too, they changed my class this morning.”
“What? Don’t you have Mister Caldwell?” I ask, confused.
And she shakes her head. “Apparently I’m with Miss Green too, check your phone Reya, maybe they changed yours too.” She looks back at Ethan who is just laughing and she sighs, “Oh fuck, no,” she muttered.
And he just grinned. “Yeah, you’re with me.”
I pull out my phone, hoping for a text too. Nothing. Not a single message. I frown and tuck it away, a little disappointed. “I’m still with Mister Caldwell this morning…”
“Are you nervous to go there alone, Reya?” Ethan asks in a weird, worried voice.
"No, I'm just disappointed.”
Hayzel gives me a quick hug before smiling, “I’ll text you when it’s done so we can grab something to eat and then head to training,” she says, bouncing off to her classroom.
“See you during lunch break, Reya!!" Ethan screams as he follows her.
I wave them off, watching them disappear into the stream of students.
I like moving through the hall unnoticed, observing, cataloging small details about the people around me.
But now, for some reason, the thought of walking into class alone makes me want to throw up.
I never minded disappearing into the crowd before.
It only works when someone knows you’re there to disappear in the first place.
Funny how one person can make disappearing less lonely.
When I finally arrive at my classroom, the high seats are already taken. Only the front row remains empty. I sink into it reluctantly, hating how visible it made me.
Mister Caldwell walks in, calm and quiet, and everyone stops talking. Something about the way he moved brings some awareness around him.
There isn’t a single inviting thing about him.
Cold blue eyes framed with glasses. Veiny hands and military posture.
Completely guarded.
I glance up for a second, then look away immediately after. He spins his chair ever so slightly toward me, and his gaze seems to pause on me for a second before turning back to the class.
I can’t tell if it was deliberate. Probably wasn’t.
Mister Caldwell starts talking about behavioral cues, micro-expressions, posture, how people reveal themselves without realizing it, just like he did without knowing.
Words float past me, facts about patterns and tendencies, but I’m not really hearing them.
My pen moves, scratching an eye onto the surface of the table I’m sitting in front of. I trace the lines, darkening the iris, shading the lid, as if I can anchor myself in it while the rest of the classroom blurs in the background.
I don’t know why but I’ve always drawn on tables since elementary school. Ugly doodles at first, weird scribbles. Over the years it got… better?
When my thoughts are too loud, I draw, as if all I’m made of is slipping through my fingers.
Lashes, one by one, making it look pretty enough to not feel guilty for dissociating when you get aware of your surroundings again.
I keep drawing around the eye, little flowers, lilies, all around and after what feels like a few minutes, large hands step in my vision, encircling me.
I trace the arms, the hands, following them until my eyes land on him, my professor, leaning slightly toward me, glasses catching the light.
“That’s a good eye,” he tells me. My pen freezes mid-stroke, then, almost without a pause, he adds, “You’re really focused on this. That’s… impressive.”
That’s when I see around me that the classroom is now empty. The classes have ended and I was still drawing things on the table. I thought it was a small eye but then I look back at the drawing and it is bigger with details I didn’t even think I was doing.
I take a long breath before turning my eyes back to him and smile. “I’m learning. Eyes are important. You said it yourself: the smallest details can tell the biggest story.”
He pauses, and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Clever,” he says finally. “You should be more focused next time, Miss Vitelli, I’m going to need your brain at full capacity to help me on the case I want you on."
Not this again…
I get up putting my stuff back in my bag and smile politely, “I already declined your offer Mister Caldwell, but I will be more focused, thank you for your time.”
“You’ll change your mind,” he replies with the same fake polite smile. “It could be a good addition to your record.”
I look down at the eye I drew, tracing the lines again, and then start walking out.
“It’s still a no,” I say.
A small laugh from him echoes behind me, before closing the door and it strangely made me smile.
What a weird feeling.