Murder, Arson and other High School Tropes

Chapter Two

The next day during lunch we sat together outside on the benches in the quadrangle. Trees surrounded the large courtyard and it was cool even in the summer heat. We sat near one of the bigger trees, where it was a lot cooler.

We, being Ana, Marco and I. Normally Luke would have sat with us but I hadn’t seen him all day today. I’d of course called him yesterday, just to check on how he was doing and to ask him if he knew Marco was back. He’d said he’d find Marco today. I hoped he had.

“So Marco you never did answer when I asked you why you moved back”.

I looked up from my jelly doughnut in panic. Marco smiled at me, I probably looked like a chipmunk with my filled cheeks and panicked eyes, before he answered Ana.
“Well my parents split up when I was 10. I went to live with my mother in Clifton”.

“Clifton? Wow”. Ana raised her eyebrows, “I’ve never been to Clifton. What’s it like? Lots of cows?”

Marco chuckled. “Yes, there’s cows and sheep and goats and maize. It’s a little rural, yeah. But it was nice. Peaceful”.

Ana and I shared a look, city girl to city girl.
“What did you do for fun? Herd cattle, hunt antelope?” Ana asked.

I snorted.

Marco frowned lightly, “It’s a small island but not that small. There were things to do. I liked being outside. I used to go hiking a lot. My mom-”.

Marco stopped suddenly. I reached over and placed my hand over his forearm, no PDA ruled be damned.

His brown eyes met mine and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
He cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes. I removed my hand.

“You asked why I moved back, right?” He said to Ana. He waited for her to nod before he continued, “My mom passed away and now I have to live with my dad, here.”

Ana choked on her chocolate milk.
“Marco I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for your loss. What happened?” Ana asked.

Marco’s voice was thick with emotion.
“There was a fire, a gas explosion they said, my mom she…uh…she inhaled a lot of smoke and um”. He took a deep breath and placed his closed hands on the tabletop.

I wanted to hug him and tell him it would be okay. Except I knew it wasn’t okay. It wouldn’t be. Not ever. It was hard to see his familiar-unfamiliar face filled with so much pain.

“I can’t remember much of that night actually. The doctors said I was found outside the house bleeding. I was in a coma for three weeks and when I woke up I just couldn’t remember what had happened”. Marco said.

Anna nodded her head sympathetically and placed one hand over his folded ones. I frowned but dismissed it in favour of asking.
“Is that all you can’t remember?”

Marco nodded, “Everything before that night is still intact. I remember coming home from school. We had dinner then I went to bed. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in hospital surrounded by doctors”.

“I’m sorry Marco”. I said.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault”. he said.

I nodded. Everyone went back to their food and I bit into my jelly doughnut as I thought. Something was off about what Marco was saying and as the saying went, I smelt a rat.

It hadn’t just been the way he said it wasn’t my fault like he knew exactly whose fault it was but it was everything else. It was common for trauma victims to not remember the events and I could understand why Marco wouldn’t want to remember the night his mother died. But if the fire had been that bad… .