Our Beginning | Mickey Altieri

Chapter Twenty-Eight

In front of the center are loaded with reporters surrounding a podium with a few microphones attached onto. Mick caught both his eyes at the crowd, taking my hand to lead the way towards them.

"Mick what are you doing?" Now behind the fountain, he takes out his video camera to get a closer picture.

"You see that crowd over there?"

"Yeah, why?"

"There's some press conference going on. Must be about the murders that happened on Saturday." Some lady on the podium, somewhat in her forties, begins talking to the spectators.

"We feel this unfortunate isolated tragedy in no way reflects upon our fine school and we should trust that the authorities and FBI are acting quickly to bring us answers..."

Beside her land cops, agents, and sheriffs. She goes on with her speech. From my corner reveals Gale heading to the crowd as she goes through. When she turned around, she come face to face with a reporter, the same flashy reporter whose face I punched. "My god..." Mick dropped his camera down to face me. "What's wrong?"

"You see that lady in white, talking to Gale?" I point a finger to her view.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"I punched her face." A small smile forms on my face while Mick leaves a jaw-dropping sound.

"You did not-" Her eyes landed right at us, making Mickey stop what he was going to say. Shit, now is time to pretend to look for Gale.

"Gale?" I leave the spot and ran towards Gale. Her head curves behind, a smile approached when we made eye contact. "Hey there Gale, nice to see you again." We shake on it, ignoring the flashy reporter in between. A coughing fit both caught our attention, leaving it to her.

"Oh, hi there. Look, I'm sorry about your...uh, face...from this morning..." I swatter my hands around in the air a few feet away from her face. Gale almost threw out a laugh but coughed to prevent it. Flashy lady stops a hand in front of me, a small smile forming on her. I think I should be afraid.

"Job hazard. The name's Debbie Salt, stringer Newsweek." She took my hand for a quick shake and moved her head to Gale. "Answer a few questions?"

"Fair enough."

"What are you doing here? I thought you had retired from field reporting?"

"Woah there lady, I don't think you had to put Gale on that line-" I was about to march towards Salt until a couple of other reporters came in. As now, cameras are on Gale.

"Well, you know I'm dear to the subject matter."

"And much richer as a result."

"Do I know you? You look familiar."

"I took your vulture seminar seminar at Berkeley last year."

"Good for you."

Reporters vulture upon her, surrounding her with notepads, cameras, and microphones. Gale signals me to leave quickly before they could see me before one actually saw my figure in front of her. "Shit," I mumbled and slowly walked back.

"You! Do you happen to be a friend of Sidney Prescott?"

More reporters stopped their actions and land their eyes on me. I look at Gale, moving my eyes to the crowd to signal her to blend in with the mob. She took notice and shortly took off. Taking more steps back, a hand blocks me from those journalists.

"Back off! They don't want to answer your questions about their relationship with Sid so beat it!"

And with that, they suddenly left.