Graded in Red

Chapter Seven

"Mags?" a distant voice echoed, "Maggie?" I heard the voice becoming a little more distinct, "Margaret?!" I managed to snap out of my daze and looked up. It was my father kneeling right in front of me.

"Hey, dad," I murmured softly.

Though the trembling had eased, I still felt a chill. The large crowds had dispersed while I was lost in my thoughts. Jake had mentioned needing to finalize some details at the scene and control the gathering. He said he'd swing by my place in the morning for further discussion.

As the reality settled in, I found myself wrestling with the disbelief that she was gone. There was a strange emptiness that lingered, coupled with an eerie sense of guilt I couldn't shake off.

"Honey, are you ready for me to take you home?" Dad asked a little louder than necessary, breaking through my reverie. Apparently, I had drifted off again. I needed to snap out of it—focus, Maggie, you've got to keep it together; there's a lot to sort out.

"Yeah, I'm ready to head home," I replied, trying to stand up from the sidewalk. "My car is parked here. I'd rather not leave it overnight, especially here." The idea of leaving my car at the scene of an incident wasn't sitting well with me.

"I already talked to Victoria. She said that she would follow us home, and I would drive her home after that." My dad lifted me up the rest of the way and held my hand, a gesture reminiscent of when I was a child.

"I totally forgot about Vic. Is she okay?" I wondered why she hadn't come to talk to me before this.

"She's fine, honey. She was held up by some police officers asking her questions and then calming parents down. Collateral damage. She was extremely worried about you so she called me to come and get you."

We were almost at the car, and I saw my mom waiting in the front seat. Tears glistened in her eyes as I approached the passenger door.

"Hey, Momma," I muttered as I slid into the back seat.

"Hey, baby. You want to talk about it?" She turned around in her seat to look at me. That was my mother for you—more concerned about my well-being than her running mascara.

"Can it wait until morning? I just want to go home, take a hot shower, and curl up in bed." My eyelids were beginning to droop. Although it couldn't have been much later than 9:00 or 9:30, the evening felt like the wee hours of the morning.

"Sure baby." I heard before my eyes finally closed.

I don't remember how I ended up in my own bed last night. I woke up in the morning with another splitting migraine, but this one was not due to drinking like yesterday's had been. As I focused my eyes on the clock blaring in my ear, I noticed someone moving around in my kitchen.

Everything from last night quickly flashed back into my mind. It was as though my brain was trying to protect me from what I had seen. Images of Bridgett that night at the pub stumbling around intoxicated, to her lying prone on the floor of the empty classroom with blood surrounding her body.

I stumbled out of bed, shook my head to clear it, and wandered into the large room that combined my living room and kitchen. There was my mom in her worn-out blue bathrobe, brewing coffee, and from the delightful aroma, I was sure bacon was sizzling.

"Hey, Mom, what brings you down here so early? Shouldn't you be asleep?" I mumbled while rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Glancing at the alarm clock next to my bed, it read 3:15 am.

"Well, I couldn't sleep. It's another one of my insomnia nights. I figured it was high time you woke up, and I wanted to chat about last night. I know you're not a morning person without your coffee, so I made some. Then I realized you probably didn't eat, and you tend to get hangry, so bacon's sizzling, and I'm about to whip up some eggs." My mom was rambling, something she did when nervous about discussing a topic she knew would make me uncomfortable.

I recalled the last time she did this. It was senior year's prom night, after the Bridgett and Jake incident. I returned home, cried myself to sleep, and woke up to pretty much the same breakfast. My mom sure knew the way to comfort me.

"Mom, I don't want to talk about it, I want it to go away. I don't want to picture it and relive it all over again." I took a healthy gulp of my coffee, it needed some creamer. I moved around my mom to the fridge to get some of my favorite peppermint mocha creamer. It made my coffee smell and taste like Christmas all year round. My favorite holiday and season, but that is far away. Maybe too far away, I thought as I pictured myself behind bars and having to draw my Christmas tree on my cell wall with a rock.

"Honey, maybe it will make you feel better. You know, talking it out with someone who isn't too close to the event or the person. Come on, Maggie, talk to me." Mom looked into my eyes reading something that I wasn't sure I wanted her to read. She always said that she could read my aura and knew how I was feeling.

"Alright, what do you want to know?" I caved knowing that she wouldn't stop pressing until I gave in.

"What happened? Why are the police asking people about a fight that you had with Bridgett at Murphy's?" Apparently the rumor mill was working overtime with everything that was going on.

"Remember when I went to meet with Vic to talk about lesson plans and the expectations of this new job?"

My mom nodded her head I told her everything that I had told Jake the previous night, "Though I remember one last detail, when Bridgett walked out of the pub doors she said that she would get me back. That this wasn't over. Though I didn't know what she meant. That was the last time I saw her mom. I promise." I exhaled and put my head on the counter, the cool granite easing my headache.

"I know baby." She patted my head and put some medicine and a glass of water nearby breakfast plate.

"They think I killed her mom. I don't have a solid alibi. You were in Tulsa and Dad was at work. I was here working on things for school and getting ready for the big reveal at the school when she was killed. I didn't do it, but I am sure they don't believe me." My eyes started welling up with tears, I was so scared.

"Margaret Ann Turee. That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you utter. Jake will not let that happen. He knows you better than that. He will find the evidence to prove your innocence." My mom was at her most livid, her face was turning red, and her left eye was twitching.

"Mom, you have too much faith in Jake. He doesn't even like me, why would he go out of his way to prove me innocent? I am the easy target." My mind was going crazy, how could I prove I didn't do this?

"I'm only going to tell you this once, Mom. Jake doesn't care about me. He proved that a long time ago. I didn't know that he kept cutting your lawn after high school. Why did he continue to do that? It's not like he needed the money or anything." I was confused; this didn't sound like the Jake I knew or had known. Maybe time really does change people.

"I'm only telling you what I know and what I see. I know that he has some feelings for you, and I know that he would never let any harm come to you, either. Have you even tried to get to know him for who he is now? Did you know that he runs the Anti-Bullying campaign at the school every year? Or that he volunteers at the local Y for underprivileged kiddos?"

She had dug her feet into the ground. When a Turee made up their mind, there was no going back. I knew and she knew this. We were both at a standstill, both convinced we were right.

"Time out?" We both asked at the same time and laughed, holding each other in a hug. One of our favorite shows to watch together was How I Met Your Mother. I knew that Lily and Marshall used this to keep their relationship together, so my mom and I did the same. Anytime we didn't agree on something, we would just put it in a time out. We would get back to the problem when we both had time to cool down and rethink our positions.

"Alright, sweetie, I'll leave you alone now. I just needed to check up on you. I have to drive to Tulsa again; the curator at the Philbrook Museum wants me to be a judge for a First Friday's festival next month, and we have to go over the contract. If you need anything, call me. I love you." She kissed me on the cheek and walked back up the basement stairs.

"Love you too." I whispered back. That's when I heard someone knocking on my door.