Odd One Out

CHAPTER 7

Bailey
Friday, October 3

There were no words to describe just how terrible everything had been. Francisco was dead. Like, really dead. It wasn't some movie character who the screenwriters decided to kill off, it was an actual living, breathing person who we'd all gone to school with, who had been murdered in cold blood. There were no words to describe how absolutely terrible I had been feeling all day, especially because I'd spent his last day with him. And I wasn't even sober enough to remember it.

At the commemoration, with every speech that blurred past me,  the little bit of hope I had for this all just being some crazy dream diminished.

Ellis was here, and I'd seen Jake somewhere in the crowd with an older man by his side. Naya was hanging out with Laney, one of the people she was always with, and she along with the other two students had agreed to meet with me after the event.

The only one I hadn't seen was Viktor, who was apparently too over this whole situation to actually care.

Which didn't matter. If he didn't want to show up, then fine. He could be on his own, for all I cared.

"We're going to start heading home," my mom whispered in my ear. A lot of the people who had shown up really early had already gone home, and the crowd was becoming thinner and thinner by the minute.

"Do you have a ride or do you want to come with us?"

"I'll just ask Kaitlyn, thanks mom," I answered, hoping she would leave quickly so that I could start the long walk to the empty houses we were all supposed to meet up in.

She kissed my cheek briefly, giving me a long and meaningful hug that caused my anxiety to calm down for a bit. After pulling away, she smiled at me, fixing the collar of my shirt.

"There's a pepper spray in your pocket that I slipped in just now."

When I opened my mouth to protest, she cut me off with, "We don't know if this is a serial killer on the loose. Be very careful, Bailey."

With that, she left for the parking lot along with a couple others who had decided to leave, emptying the field of even more people.

It was beginning to get cold, so I began my walk to the construction site almost immediately after my mom had left.

The city was almost as quiet as the football field had been, as if the life of our little city had died along with Francisco. It was calm and sorrowful, and the further I got, the quieter it got. It took me about half an hour to actually get to the site, the one my dad had brought me to no more that a month ago.

He explained that he would continue the project as soon as there were enough funds for it, but he had developed a recent habit of making empty promises, so I didn't really believe him. Either way, the halting of any further construction hadn't turned out to be such a waste after all; it was the perfect spot to meet with the others privately, without anyone suspecting much.

Once I got to the specific building I had set the meeting in, I sat on the cold, unfinished  hardwood floors, hoping that they wouldn't stand me up.

Jake
Friday, October 3

It didn't take much to convince my dad to let me stay. When we'd arrived at the school parking lot, I accidentally shut the door to the van a little too hard, but he didn't say a word. That's how I knew he was being genuinely humane to me, and that's what got him to easily allow me to stay.

"He lost a friend," he told my mom before leaving. "He should be able to mourn in peace."

After they had left, I walked towards the school restrooms, desperately trying to think up a way to get to the lonely construction site Bailey had sent me the address to.

I walked into the restroom but stopped in my tracks after hearing the distinct sound of sniffling. My entire body froze and for a second I thought I'd imagined it, but then it happened again. Slowly, my legs began to carry me further into the restroom, where I saw a tall figure hunched over one of the sinks, his arms straight and stiff as they covered his face.

He was sobbing almost uncontrollably, using one of his hands to turn on the faucet of the sink and rub it over his face. He looked up at himself in the mirror before he finally noticed me, his expression immediately changing.

"Jaime?"

His head whipped towards me, eyes, still glossy and red, his expression now blank and void of any true emotion.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, wiping his eyes.

"For what?"

"I can't control myself. This–"

Jaime took a deep breath before saying, "This has never happened before. Murder, I mean. The death. Francisco. It's all so much to take in."

He looked at the ground, tears silently slipping down his cheeks.

"During our Sophomore year, I was dealing with my parents' divorce. One of the guys on the football team had paid Francisco to reveal all the dirty details he could find on me to the school, in an attempt to keep me out of the field. And he did. He found out about every single thing I had done that would damage my reputation, including my parents' divorce. But he didn't post anything. Instead, he exposed some very private details about the athlete who had initially paid him, to the point where he lost half his friends and his place on the football team.

"I always wondered why he didn't post about me, and a year later when I bumped into him in the gym I thought it was the perfectly opportunity to ask him. I was helping put away the gym equipment from sixth period when he walked in, claiming to have forgotten that stupid pen he always carried around. And I asked him why. He—"

Jaime hiccuped loudly, scrunching his face at the now-saddened memory playing in his mind. "He refused to tell me. The only thing he asked for in return is that I never speak to anyone about what he had told me. So I never told anyone, until now." He laughed dryly before saying, "He would be so pissed right now."

"Yeah," I muttered out. "He probably would."

Jaime wiped away his tears with the rough sleeves of his jacket, taking in breath after breath of air.

"People never realized that Francisco wasn't all that bad, because of me. He died, because of me. Because I made a stupid promise."

"It wasn't stupid," I told him, nearing him slowly. "It was important to him, so it became important to you."

"If I had known..." he started, but trailed off in a thought I could not see.

"But you didn't," I quietly murmured out. "No one did. It's not your fault, Jaime."

He sniffled, calm and pensive as he looked up at me.

Without a warning, he leaned in and hugged me, his heavy bear-like body crashing on mine like the soft and heavy waters of a lake.

"Thanks man," he mumbled out, his voice muffled.

"Anytime," I answered, awkwardly wrapping my arms around him.

He let go, wiping away the last of his melted tears before sighing a breath of relief. "It feels nice to have gotten that off my chest."

"I'm glad," was my answer. As he controlled his breathing, I put my hands in my pockets, staring at him. Waiting.

When he noticed me staring, he asked, "What?"

"Aren't you going to warn me about telling this to someone? Threaten to steal my phone or something if this ever leaves my mouth?"

He straightened up. "Nah," was his answer.  "You don't hit me as the person to go around talking about others."

I grinned at him, and he grinned back, walking past me and towards the tiny hallway that led to the door out.

"And hey," he suddenly blurted out, causing me to turn around. "If you ever need anything, just let me know."

I nodded, my mind racing with thoughts as I saw him disappear behind the small hallway.

"Actually," I called out, causing him to reappear.

I took a deep breath before asking, "Could you give me a ride?"