Finding Kingsley

Chapter 3

The first day of school. Everyone's excited to be back but disappointed that another summer is gone. I walked through the big doors and down the familiar hallways to my locker I've had for two years.

"Peyton!" A voice squealed as a I was putting my binders into their metal encasement. A girl with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes ran up to me and gave me a big hug.

"Esme!" I laughed. "How was your summer?"
Esme Griffin, my best friend since the third grade, leaned against the lockers as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Amazing! Hawaii.." She sighed. "To die for!" Suddenly Esme got very serious.

"What?" I asked.

"I heard about your parents.." She spoke quietly.

My smile faded slowly. I just looked at her somberly, words wouldn't come.
"I'm here for you at any time." She smiled weakly and gave me a tight hug before she linked her arm with mine and started to take me down the hall. Soon we were walking through the glass archway into the cafeteria. Tons of high school teens were in the large, high ceiling room socializing with all their friends. But as soon as I walked in, the room fell silent. People whispered and stared as we made our way across the now silent room.

Everyone in this town knew who my family was. For starters my father was running for mayor. Second my brothers were famous in the town for either their outstanding academic success or insane athletic ability. My parents death had made the news and now here I was seeing the sympathy and sadness in my peers eyes. I vaguely remember hearing the "I'm so sorry's" and other condolences. But I do remember hearing the sound my heart slowly failing. It raced as we walked to a table across the room but it didn't stop when we sat down and people began to talk again. It beat faster and faster as short memories flickered back. With every person who apologized for my parents death, I saw those men break through the boats glass windows and the bullets cutting through the air. It's not your fault, I tried to say, They were murdered. Men killed my parents and I saw it happen. But I could only muster weak smiles that lasted for a mere second.

Finally our principle, Mrs. Lewis, called for everyone's attention. And it was only then that I could feel my heart beginning to ease to a steadier pace. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and when I opened them again I swore to myself I would find who killed my parents.

*~*~*~*~*

Life wasn't as exciting after the first couple months of school. The same boring routine consisted of my weeks. Logan got a job, Mason continued his own and I was often left at home with Sandra until they returned.

I started my routine again as I woke up one Monday morning. After throwing on a pair of jeans and an American Eagle t-shirt, I carried my back pack down stairs to the kitchen. Sandra was already there. I actually think she's moved into the guest house that adjacent to ours.

"Good morning Peyton! I've made you a smoothie for the bus ride." She handed me the sunset orange smoothie.

"Thanks." Smiling, I took it from her and sat down.

"Don't take the bus home today, I believe Mason is picking you up." Sandra had just finished wiping the counter and was wiping her hands on the apron that covered her black business suit.

"Really?" I asked.

She just nodded and smiled. Suddenly I heard the bus coming up the road.
"Have a nice day!" I heard her yell as I walked out the door.

After grabbing my books and walking around school before the bell, I entered Mr. Adams AP English class. There were already some kids sitting on the desks scattered throughout the room. Mr. Adams believes that writing is an art and people need individual space to create masterpieces. I placed my binders on a desk towards the middle left of the classroom. Form where it sat, the smart board was in front of me a few rows and the door was to my right. The bell rang just as I sat down. People began to fill the room and others left to go to their own classes. Within a few minuets everyone was at their desks, talking and waiting for instructions.