Tommy
There is nothing better than the feeling of the wind in my face and leaving my opponent in the dust. Especially when that opponent is Remington Vital, who is hopefully choking on it.
Sweat drips down my nose as I finish the tenth lap Coach is making the two of us do as punishment for fighting earlier today.
Coach is killing us. We have to run until we figure our shit.
The only problem is our wounds cut so deep, I’m not sure we will ever recover from it.
And I’m not even sure what we are fighting about.
One minute, we are running through the woods doing our Sunday morning run, the next, he’s being accused of killing Daniel Jenkins and stopped talking to me.
None of it makes sense.
There is no damn way my best friend of eighteen years is Shadowface. I’d know if Remy were a serial killer.
Somewhere along the way, I lost my best friend, and he won’t talk to me about what really happened. The town turned on him, anger consumed him, and he’s a shell of who he once was. He even started dressing differently—wearing black leather and shit.
The sun is penetrating as I round the track and focus on my breath, ignoring the fact that he is ruining my song. What Coach doesn’t understand is that running me into oblivion isn’t punishment.
Running is my muse.
The guitar solo cuts in right as I round the track, the wailing notes rippling through my mind like a maelstrom.
I’ve been writing this song in my head all year, playing my actual guitar every chance I get so I don’t forget it.
It’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane.
Especially since I’m failing math and won’t be able to graduate if I don’t pass it.
I should study but I can’t ask for help from anyone.
Landry’s don’t ask for help, as my old man would say.
Remy passes me on my left, the pounding of his feet ruining my song. So, I kick it into high gear, all brute and muscle bursting down the last hundred meters. I only ever beat him by a split second, and one day he will win, but today’s not that day.
When I pass the finish line, I place my hands around the back of my head to catch my breath and walk in circles, staring at him.
“Next time I beat you, maybe you’ll finally let me fuck your sister,” I taunt him. I’m angry about everything, too. So, screw him. “When does she get back?”
He smirks but shakes his head, not engaging in my attempts at baiting him.
“Bite me,” he fires back as he walks toward the school.
I’m sick of his salty attitude. If he only knew how close I was to getting in there before she went away.
Daniel Jenkins was her boyfriend, but barely.
I saw the way she looked at me. Her old man sent her away to grieve away from the gossipy town when he died, but she will be home soon and will need a shoulder to cry on.
I shake my head, shrug, and walk over to the bench to get some water. Bax is there, waiting for me so we can go grab lunch. At least one of my friends still likes me, I guess.
My attention spans to the strange girl with white hair walking by. Her head is low, a coat pulled up over her face. She’s dressed like my grandma going to church on Sunday. She started here on Monday and came out of nowhere.
I jerk my head in her direction, keeping my eyes on her. “What’s that chick’s story, anyway?” I ask Bax.
Bax follows my gaze. She’s doing her best to stay out of sight, but I’m pretty sure she has everyone’s attention before she disappears behind the bleachers. Everyone is talking about her, how she’s a bad omen.
I can’t seem to get a good look at her. Every time we’ve made eye contact in class, she averts her gaze. She hides under her clothes, her face is always low, her eyes hooded.
Despite being super weird, she’s really pretty—although I won’t admit that to anyone. But Remy was clearly looking in class the other day, too.
Bax shrugs, looking disinterested. “I dunno, man. She moved into the old Sheffield place in the sticks.”
Wait…the Sheffield house?
“I thought that place was condemned?”
“That’s where she lives, apparently. Don’t know much else, other than she moved here with her mom.”
That place is not anywhere I’d want to live—especially not with what happened there.
Bax, Remy and I went there once on a dare.
The last time I checked, all the windows were boarded up.
Some crazy hillbilly in the 50s killed his wife and daughter, then killed himself.
They say old farmer Sheffield possesses anyone who sleeps there.
We barely made it an hour before we high-tailed the fuck outta there after hearing voices, and Bax swore up and down he saw a teenage girl in a white nightgown. And this chick has slept there for over a week and still managed to ace calculus?
“Do you think she knows what happened in that house?
“Doubt it,” Bax says as he pulls out a joint, about to make some sort of joke before his eyes widen and he hides the joint in his pocket. “Oh shit.”
Coach is coming straight at us, and he looks pissed.
“Hide the fucking joint, you clown,” I gripe at him. “You’re going to get us expelled.”
“Tommy,” he barks, stomping over to us. “I need you to run two extra miles today, son.”
I lurch to my feet. “What? Why?”
“Because I told you to, that’s why.”
I curl my mouth. “No way. The rest of the team doesn’t have to.”
Coach pauses, then softens and runs his hand through his hair. “Your old man told me you have to run another two miles.”
“What the hell, Coach?”
“Don’t mess with me, boy, just do it.” He’s essentially saying, Don’t make me mess with your father. We may not be the Vital family, but as the mayor of Kinsmen, my father has influence.
He frowns at Bax. “Are you going to chop that hair off, young man?”
Bax grins. “No way, dude. Long hair is a way of life. It’s the essence of my soul. Gotta let my freak flag fly, man.”
Coach rolls his eyes, taps his pen on his clipboard, and softens his expression as he looks at me. “You and Remy better figure out your issues, son. I’m sick of your fighting.”
I cast my eyes down, like I can control that Remy suddenly hates the world, and me. “Yes, Coach.”
“Alright then. Two miles, Tommy.”
My stomach twinges, thinking how controlling my father can be.
Bax offers me a sympathetic glance. “Hey, man, when you finish, you up for ditching class and getting burgers?”
I glance up and spot Cindy with her cheer squad waiting for us at the edge of the track. I’m not sure I’m in the mood for her today, and definitely won’t be after I finish my run.
Screwing the preacher’s daughter the way we did was the biggest mistake of my life. I was drunk, and we got carried away. She didn’t deserve that.
“Nah, man. You head out. I’ve got some math homework to do.” My failing grades are part of the reason Coach is working me so hard.
If I keep failing, he won’t let me run anymore, and not even my father can stop that from happening.
Cindy struts by in her blue and white cheer uniform, her perfect curls bouncing unnaturally, trying to get my attention. Bax’s head drops to the side as he stares at Cindy’s juicy ass.
“You coming, Tommy?” she calls over her shoulder.
I keep my focus down, regretting the fact I had screwed her a few weeks ago. “Not today.”
She frowns, then shifts her attention. “Bax?”
He grins like a kid in a candy store. “Oh, hell yeah I’m coming,” he shouts after her and slaps me on the back. “Later, dude.”
He does a groovy dance and saunters over to her, his long hair swaying as he walks, before he wraps his arms around her and tickles her. She tilts her head back and laughs, slapping his hand off her, and Remy joins them.
Baxter, Remy, and I’ve been tearing it up for years, and we were unstoppable.
Now, Remy won’t even look at me, and Bax is caught between us, a fractured line separating us.
I sigh, re-lace my shoe, and begin my two-mile jog, immediately replaying the song in my head that’s become an unexplainable obsession, consuming my every thought.
We all have our coping mechanisms, I guess, for the tragedy that shattered everyone at the beginning of the year. Daniel Jenkins’ murder left its mark, and whoever did it is still walking among us. At least, that’s what I think.
Getting stabbed fifteen times and left for dead on a busy trail should be an unusual occurrence, but in Kinsmen, events like that are not uncommon. Everyone thinks this place is cursed, and whispers of a serial killer have been circulating for years.
But I’d bet a silver penny it wasn’t Remy Vital that killed Talia’s boyfriend.
The investigation is ongoing. They couldn’t find any evidence it was Remy, other than he was the one who found him.
That was an emotional kill.
When Talia found out, she never got over it. She dated Daniel Jenkins for four years before it happened. They were high school sweethearts, and both attending Kinsmen University.
She was investigated, of course, but I could never imagine a tiny girl like that taking down a guy my size. She went away after that to rehab or therapy or some shit with some hippies in the forest—and she’s still there.
Everyone in this town is superstitious, but the real issue is this town is messed up. The longer people live here, the more they get sucked into this hellhole, and the more people go insane.
That white-haired girl just walked into a deathtrap.
I’m in a piss-poor mood as I finish my laps under the searing spring sun. I do an extra mile, just to spite everyone, and by the time I’m done my legs are like Jello.
My chest tightens during my shower and for a few minutes after. I end up smashing my locker while I get dressed for lunch. My stomach churns, like it’s going to eat itself.
I push open the double doors leading outside and notice Bax and the rest of them near the dusty parking lot getting ready to pile into his new Shaggin’ Waggin’.