On Mute

Chapter 6: The Trouble with Leftovers

Tapping my pencil against the table constantly I sat in Chemistry class frantic and nervous. What if he was being arrested because of me, it couldn't just be a coincidence I happened to break into the school that same night then whamo my worst enemy is in the clink... could it? He looked like he could commit a serious crime, he looked threatening... and his large arms and torso...everyone knew that wasn't fat, he looked strong enough to cause serious damage. I turned my attention to the seat beside me; no books, no body yet still his intimidating presence remained.

Class got out and I moved slowly in the flow of traffic, my heart was racing just thinking about Marc. His body shoved against the hood of the cop car, the handcuffs tightening around his wrists... his eyes, so full of hate and loathing. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't even notice the hand that planted itself firmly on my shoulder; preventing me from moving forward.

"Abigail," It was Mr. Rupert and his face was without its normal smile. "I need you to come with me." I swallowed hard and followed without a word.

~X~

            I wasn't taken downtown; Marc sat in the teacher's lounge with a cop at his side and Mister lead me in and gently set me up at the nearest table.

            "It's going to be alright," He said with a strained voice, "He only wants to ask a few questions, then you will be allowed to return to your classes." I didn't really care that I was being tardy; I was scared I was going to be arrested. I guess it showed in my posture... I could feel my shoulders quivering.

            "That will be all." The cop said, then he shook the teacher's hand and Sir was dismissed. He made his way towards the table.

            The cop looked at me tenderly; I think he was trying to make me more comfortable. You cannot tell me that being a meter away from a man with a gun and uniform did not at least intimidate you a little bit? "I am Constable Crusher." Crusher, n-nice name for a cop... or a pro-wrestler. "What is your name?"

            "Ab-Abigail." I stuttered. He smiled.

            "That's a very nice name there; you don't hear that one all too often."I bit my cheek, stop the small talk already and get to the friggin' point! I saw Marc look at me, I examined his posture and found he was sitting on his hands, I saw something shiny and thought... since when did he wear a watch, then his eyes locked with mine and he flashed to me that they were handcuffs. I looked back to the cop. "Sweetie, do you know son over here?" I nodded and told him his name. He asked me how I knew him.

            "Chemistry." He asked me if I talked to him. "Not intentionally." He asked me if I was friends with him. "No." He asked me what relationship we were in. "Acquaintances." Enemies. He asked me finally, did he give me Sir's Biscotti. I raised my head. What was he talking about? Marc saw my hesitance and mouthed the word "no" with his eyes pleading; when I stayed silent he shook his head as he said it. The cop was completely unaware for Marc was to his side.

"Abigail?" I jolted.

"Y-yes?"

"Did he?" I bit my lip.

"No, she didn't." Marc rumbled, he sat up and looked over in my direction; his glare hard and hurtful. "That fucking bitch didn't deserve the biscotti Mr. Rupert told me to give her; she ditched the classroom and made me have to clean up then took all the fuckin' credit. Why the hell would I give her anything?" I covered my mouth in awe. The cop shot a glance at Marc, Marc backed down by looking the other way; breathing fast like he was fuming and trying to calm down.

            "Well, I guess we are finished here." He thanked me for my cooperation and closed the door after I left. What did this have to do with Biscotti?

~X~

            For the second night in a row Brie stayed over, we were in my room sipping the hot cocoa my mother made completely out of season. But it felt good as it went down, we were both very chilly, but not from the night air.

            "You don't think we are going to get caught do you? If they were going to get us they already would of...right?" I lowered the mug from my mouth and twirled my finger around the rim. Why did this need to be happening, why did I have to find out about Marc... am I that scared of him? I licked my finger of the chocolate film it acquired; it didn't taste very sweet. Come to think of it, hot cocoa was made of bitter ingredients... tasteless water, a touch of milk, sour cocoa. The only thing that made the drink delectable was the table spoon of sugar    that was added at the end. Who came up with such a bizarre recipe?

            "I was interrogated by the police today." I calmly stated.

            "W-what?! You didn't_."

            "No, I didn't rat on you, or myself." I sighed, letting the steam from my beverage hit my face. "Marc wouldn't give me a chance to."

            "Are you saying_?"

            "He took the bullet for us." I sipped and lowered my cup. "And the most disturbing thing is I don't know why?" She shook her head and put her cup to the side.

            "I am not really thirsty anymore." Brie told me then jumped into her sleeping bag and turned away from me.

            "What made them suspect Marc though, something isn't making sense?" I looked to her forgotten glass.

"Mom hates when you leave stuff behind." She looked back at me.

"You forgot the biscotti didn't you?" I nodded.

"Marc gave me that biscotti on the teachers behalf."

"Well..." she said after a minute. "This is a fine kettle of fish." More like a kettle of biscotti.