Clouds of Violet

Chapter Nineteen

Friday, September 19th, 13:02

It's been two days since Aaron told me about the blood on Ezra's floor and neither of us has told the police yet.

To be honest, I don't have the heart to. Ezra and I were never really close, but he always seemed like a really decent guy. I never thought he'd be capable of doing something so...vile and cruel.

Of course, it doesn't mean that he is the killer, but why in God's name was there blood all over his floor?

I haven't looked at him the same, I don't think I can until I know that he's got nothing to do with the murder. Especially since he's grown more distant this past week...

We're in History class together right now, sitting at the back of the classroom. I've been staring at him since I sat down, and I haven't been paying attention to anything that Mr. Peterson has been saying.

He catches my eye and quirks an eyebrow. I look away as fast as I can, letting my eyes wander anywhere in the classroom, as long as they don't wander back to Ezra. I stare at the whiteboard, at the big, black letters that read THE ROMANIAN REVOLUTION. At Mr. Peterson's abnormally red face, or his shiny forehead that reflects light better than mirrors. At Tyler Swift, a complete asshole who's been launching paper spitballs into Jasmin LeSantos' curly hair. I watch as he spits another one, and it gets stuck in her hair, joining the other three.

I scoff. Why does everybody have to be such a douchebag?

"Ms. Smith, if you could stop staring at the back of Mr. Swift's head and instead look up at the board, that would be much appreciated."

When I look up, some of my classmates are laughing and turning around to look at me. Tyler looks especially amused; his lips curling into a smirk as he speaks.

"I didn't know my head interested you that much," he says.

"Quiet down, Mr. Swift," Peterson says. "And stop throwing spitballs into Ms. LeSantos' hair."

I see Jasmin's cheeks heat up and turn red as she reaches into her hair. Her expression turns to disgust once her finger lands on one of the spitballs that.

"Now, enough of that," Mr. Peterson says. "So, Ceaușescu was dictator for about..."

While Mr. Peterson continues his lecture, Tyler turns around and winks at me. I scowl in return, sending him a middle finger as a response.

***

I'm watching an old episode of Powerpuff Girls, stuffing my face with popcorn and candy, when my brother comes into the living room.

"I need to have an important talk with you," he says and I look up. His eyes, green and usually bright, are tired and serious. He ruffles his blonde hair, scratching the back of his neck as he does so.

While I take after Mom, with brown skin and dark eyes, Owen looks just like Dad. He has the same pretty green eyes and untameable blonde hair. His skin is freckled, just like Dad's. I've seen Dad's childhood photos and he looks just like Owen.

"Sit down," I say, patting the space next to mine. He sits down, putting both his legs beneath him as he rest his head on my shoulder.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?" I ask, holding some popcorn out on my palm. He takes it and eats it as slowly as possible, before he responds.

"I haven't really talked about it," he begins. "But...Sky, what if I'm next? Y'know, the next victim."

"Why would anybody kill you?" I say. "That would be such a waste of time."

"Seriously?"

"Sorry," I say. "I'm saying this as someone who knows you well: you have nothing to be scared of."

"Well, I kinda do," Owen says. "This psycho is going around killing people and writing messages in blood."

"Yeah but, life moves on," I say. "If you're so scared about being next, just live your life to the fullest. Do all the things you wanna do before you die."

"That's horrible advice."

"No, it's not," I say. "What's one thing you wanna do before you die?"

"Drink illegally," he says.

"Do that!"

"Sky, I'm thirteen..."

"Right, I forget you're just a measly eighth grader," I say.

"You were an eighth grader like, three months ago."

"That's beside the point," I say. "Owen, you've got no reason to be afraid. Because I'm here. It's my job to protect you, even though sometimes, I wanna tie your tongue around your neck."

"That's not normal."

"Your face isn't normal."

"Thanks, that's great for my crippling self-esteem."

"Anyways," I continue. "You're not on your own. You have me and Mom and...and other weird thirteen year olds. We'll all be there."

"Thanks, Sky," he says. "But could you please put on something else? You always watch the same show! It's fucking annoying!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" I exclaim, pushing his fat head off my shoulder. "Do not insult the girls!" I wave my feet around, covered in Powerpuff Girls socks. 

"Can we please watch something good?" he pleads. "Like Ben 10 or something?"

"No, you either respect the girls or leave."

"I fucking hate you." He gets up, frowning and glaring as he leaves. 

"His loss," I mumble, as I pop a piece of popcorn into my mouth.