The Return

Chapter Thirteen

Holly

Why did she feel like she was failing a test? "Wanna tell us why it took you forever to enroll here?" Rowan Giovanni asked over a bite of egg salad. She was commercially beautiful, the kind of face that belonged on the front cover of Vogue. Racially ambiguous from what Holly could tell, but the daughter of Detective Douglas Giovanni, she was as close as Holly could get to the Leighton case.

The Giovanni family was known for more than just Douglas's feats as a notable member of the Chicago P.D. Holly knew of Sienna Giovanni, co-owner of Venice, a makeup brand that originated in Matera, Italy before Rowan was born. And then there was Rowan Giovanni, the only child and golden girl. The valedictorian most prone to get into an ivy league college.

She reached for her phone and tapped the screen. She pulled up a website and slid the device to Holly.

"There are only four reasons why someone would transfer schools this late in the game."

According to the site Teenpsych.com, Holly was either running from a horrid reputation, family problems, untamed aggression, or a jilted baby daddy.

Holly slid the phone back.

Unless she had a kid at home that she didn't know of, she could rule out the last part. Her aggression was passive, and as for her reputation at Bard Roosevelt... she was proud of the girl she became despite the circumstance. She wasn't running from anything.

She was chasing something.

Mgbe otu ụzọ mechiri onye ọzọ ga-emeghe. She couldn't stop trying, Steinfeld's weren't quitters... Not entirely. 

Their plan with principal Jenkins was a bust. It was a miracle they walked out of there without matching suspension letters.

"So, common, spill the beans." The girl looked expectantly at Holly.

Holly fiddled with the bland-looking mashed potatoes on her plate. "Family problems." She finally said loud enough for Rowan and Kyle to hear.

Normally, the clustered table setup wasn't a setback...Holly wasn't up for it.

One of the last people who saw Scarlett alive threatened them to stop digging into a closed case.

They could have handled it better. Startling their only lead into leaving his office wasn't the best decision in retrospect.

"Are you always this vague?" Rowan gave her a look as if insinuating that she had nothing to hide. Holly had her doubts. "This is a safe space." She wiggled her eyebrows. Those had to be microblade.

The space Rowan was referring to was about as safe as the Sambisa Forest.

"My parents got divorced in middle school and I had to live in Manhattan with my mother and—"

"Let me guess, she turned out to be abusive and you had to move back in with your father?" She pressed her hands to her chest, disingenuousness dribbling from her tone. "The same thing happened to Sherry," Rowan turned to the Hispanic girl in the corner between two jocks. "She was bummed out for almost two semesters." So, trust me, we understand you." The high school dream. Blending in with a sea of airheads that didn't even know how to listen.

Kyle took her hands in his beneath the table. The sentiment was endearing. He was seated by her side. Close enough that their knees were touching.

"Everything's going to be fine." He felt compelled to assure her.

She turned to him.

He didn't sit alone, but he was nowhere near popular. In Lincoln Lane popularity was measured by how many seats were vacant at your lunch table. And Kyle had about two seats left to get anywhere close to Claudia Jonathan.