Chapter 3 #2
I nod and look back at the field as the announcer comes on.
“I think it’s starting,” I say.
Brock isn’t paying attention. He’s back on his phone.
The players run out on the field, and the crowd, which isn’t much of a crowd, gets up and cheers.
“There’s Braden,” I say, nudging Brock.
He glances up. “I need to go make a call.”
“Right now? The game’s about to start.”
“Like Harris said, it’ll be a dull game. I doubt the opposing team will even score.” He gets up and goes past me. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
While he’s gone, I check online to see how Legion’s doing. The game started a few minutes ago, but I can’t find any scores.
“Hey!” Someone grabs my shoulder. I turn and see a girl stepping over the bleacher. She’s in my English class, but I can’t remember her name. She missed most of last week. She didn’t show up until Friday.
“Hi.” I quickly shut off my phone. I hope she didn’t see me searching for Legion’s score. If she did, I’ll just tell her I’m checking it because I’m hoping they lose.
“Stuck in the parents’ section?” She laughs as she sits beside me.
“I’m with my uncle,” I say, wishing she’d go away. I can’t get information from Brock with her sitting here, although I don’t know what else I’d ask him. He’s distracted tonight. He hasn’t heard half of what I’ve said. I keep having to repeat myself.
“Your uncle is hot,” she says, biting her lip.
“Are you serious?” I turn to her. “He’s like fifty years old. Maybe not that old, but he’s close.”
She shrugs. “I like older men. I’d date him.”
“You’re too late. He has a girlfriend.” I face the field. “So why are you in the parents’ section?”
“Had to get my debit card from my mom. I left it in her car.”
I’m guessing her account balance is bigger than mine.
She drives a brand-new Mercedes SUV and brings an expensive leather backpack to class.
And she always wears large diamond stud earrings, which I’m sure are real.
She has them on now, along with what looks like a cashmere sweater.
It’s pink with a deep V-shaped neckline that shows off her cleavage.
Her jeans are torn but probably designer, along with her black leather high-heeled boots.
She turns toward the field. “I totally want to fuck your cousin.”
I look at her. “You just said you wanted Brock.”
“Braden looks just like him. Dating him would be like dating his dad, only more appropriate. My parents wouldn’t get on my case about it.”
“Are you saying you’ve dated older guys before? Guys Brock’s age?”
“Maybe,” she says with a smile. “You don’t know the story, do you?”
“What story?”
“Me and Principal Ballantine.”
“You dated the principal? Is that why he got fired?”
“He wasn’t fired. He left.” Her eyes scan the field as Braden darts around a player before tossing the ball. “Is Braden seeing someone?”
“Not that I know of.” I look at her. “Did you really date the principal?”
“Can’t say. It was part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
She leans back on her hands. “It’s sad people don’t talk about it anymore. Now it’s all football and whether we’re going to State.” She sighs. “I’m so sick of that shit.”
I’m starting to think this girl could be useful. She seems eager to talk about stuff she’s not supposed to talk about. I can tell she’s desperate to tell me about whatever went on with her and the principal, which means she’d probably tell me about other stuff if I asked.
“I’ve heard a lot of stories since I got here,” I say. “Not sure I believe them all.”
“Like what?” she asks, her voice eager, leaning toward me.
I keep my eyes on the game. “Stuff about Braden’s ex.”
“About how he killed her?” she says nonchalantly. “That’s old news.”
“He didn’t kill her.”
“Someone did. She didn’t just fall.”
“How do you know?”
She doesn’t answer, her eyes going to Brock as he returns to his seat.
He smiles at her. “Nice to see you again, Peyton.”
Peyton. That’s her name. I knew it was something that started with a P.
“Always a pleasure seeing you too, Brock.” She winks at him and leans across me toward Brock. “Are you still with Marilyn?”
“No. I have someone new. I wanted someone younger.”
“Who’s Marilyn?” I ask. “Your ex-girlfriend?”
Brock and Peyton both laugh.
“Marilyn was my agent,” he says. “She was Peyton’s as well.”
“You’re an actor?” I ask her.
“Was.” She flips her long strawberry blonde hair. “I was one of those annoying child actors who made millions to look cute and say a few lines.” She leans over even more, practically in my lap as she talks to Brock. “Let me guess. Gunner Thorpe?”
“Good guess. And yes. I’ve been with him for a year now. Unfortunately, he hasn’t gotten me any roles.”
“Why don’t we switch places?” I say, getting up.
Brock’s phone rings. “I need to get this.”
He takes off, which is good because I want Peyton to tell me more about what happened to Braden’s ex. Everyone seems to know the story, and yet Braden’s the most popular guy at school. Since when are alleged killers popular? Maybe nobody believes he did it. I don’t.
Braden wouldn’t kill someone. He has a bad temper and gets jealous when other people have what he wants, but that doesn’t make him a killer.
It does give him a motive, though. Motive to kill Andrea for ditching him for Jackson.
And a motive for killing Jason, who’d be the quarterback if he were still alive.
But motive doesn’t mean Braden did anything.
I really hope that’s true.