The Motif

Chapter 1

It was Saturday night, and the Parker High gymnasium was ablaze with the rhythmic thump of dance music – colored stage lights flaring robotically in time with the persistent beat – and several hundred awkward adolescents jumping and swaying along. If you looked closely enough, you might almost even be able to see the cloud of teenage hormonal musk lingering over the spectacle like an ominous rain cloud, waiting for just the right moment to unleash its deluge on the revelers below.

Despite the façade of frivolity, an almost imperceptible tone of tension could be detected. From here to there across the dance floor, the keen observer might sense that the dancers' occasionally faltering smiles were not quite reaching to their eyes. At the outskirts of the dance floor lone students, from time to time, would look over their shoulders for their friends, only to remember they had come stag. The sense of youth attempting to enjoy themselves and have a good time in spite of shared grief and despair was almost palpable.

By all rights, the school's fall dance should have been cancelled. It was most certainly discussed, but the faculty ultimately decided the students needed something to distract them and keep their minds off recent events.

Kimmi Carter was one student that was grateful the dance had not been cancelled. She had been looking forward to this night all week, and she was not – not going to let the events from earlier in the week get her down. Yes, it was unfortunate, tragic even, that one of her classmates had been found brutally murdered, and the killer – another classmate – had committed suicide afterward, but she and Ben had been planning this night for over a month – ever since she found out her parents would be leaving her home alone for the weekend to attend a wedding in Boston – and nothing, nothing was going to ruin it.

And besides, it's not like she really knew Brian Robertson or Carley Benson, the boy who'd been murdered and the girl who had murdered him. Kimmi and Brian had one class together, back in Freshman year, and she'd had a couple classes with Carley, but that was it. As horrible as it was, she wasn't going to let it ruin this night. Besides, it's not like there was any lurking danger.

She had it all planned out. After the dance, she and Ben would go back to her vacant house, where she would set up her mother's fondue pot and they would begin the private part of their evening dipping strawberries into melted chocolate and some romantic instrumental mood music. From there, they would continue up to her bedroom – which was already decorated with rose petals and votive candles waiting to be lit – where Kimmi would change into the outfit (if it could even be called an outfit) she and her best friend, Rachel, had picked out at the lingerie shop specifically for the fact that it would make her mother's head explode.

In her fantastical unsullied teenage girl's mind, Kimmi imagined she and Ben would last the night, making love until the sun rose and they would then fall asleep in each other's arms. (Whether Ben's adolescent libido would live up to that fantasy, Kimmi would sadly never find out.)

There was only one problem with Kimmi's master plan of seduction – Ben hadn't shown up to the dance yet. Granted Ben was usually late, but she'd have thought he'd be on time for this night, if nothing else.

At first, Kimmi hadn't minded, because at least she had Rachel to hang out and dance with, but before she realized it, the dance had been going for over an hour and still no sign of the boy she intended to be her first.

"I'm gonna step out for a second and call Ben," Kimmi shouted at Rachel, over a particularly vociferous EDM beat.

"What?" Rachel shouted in reply, holding her hands up to her ears in an ineffectual attempt to boost her hearing.

"I'm gonna step out for a second and call Ben," Kimmi repeated, shouting louder yet.

"I can't hear you, but you should probably go give Ben a call and check up on him," Rachel shouted back, pointing at the time on her cell phone to indicate that Ben was running late.