Now There's Drama

70

During another night of insomnia Marc made the snap judgement to head off to the warehouse and catch Kip's murderer. That was the only reason he got out of bed that Thursday. He had to tell Christie but unfortunately that had to wait for morning, she may be erratic but he certainly wasn't. That left him tossing and turning, sweat dripping down his brow only to enveloped in a blackness which would only remind him of death when he awoke.

Marc'd been on the lookout for Christie all day trying to get a moment with her. She ignored him in English, scratching her left arm with her right hand, glancing in his direction, trying to be furtive but meeting his eye several times.

She wasn't there at recess, Marc looked high and low for her only to find her in the library cowering behind a crappy teen-fiction book, ducking behind the shelves of musty old books, sneezing when the dust fell off the shelves.

He finally caught her during their lunch break as she was headed towards Tegan. "Kip was a part of a gang," he said.

"Oh was he?" Christie said wistfully.

"I'm going to check it out tonight," he said.

"Marc you look like hell, go home and get some sleep," she said.

"No, I'm finally doing something with my life."

"How did you sleep?"

Marc shrugged wiping his eyes, trying to cover the dark bags which covered his face like a mask. "Not very well but that's normal."

"Please Marc don't do this," she pleaded.

"I'll do whatever I like!"

"Sullocks," Christie said, raising her arms and running over to the wooden table and sat next to Tegan and opposite Wesley who was happily stabbing some lettuce with his fork.

Marc ran after her and sat next to Wes muttering, "I'll do what I want."

"Sullocks, sullocks, sullocks!" Christie cried.

"What is your obsession with that word?" Marc asked.

"It was the safe word from the play Private Lives, every time they got into a fight they'd say sullocks and the subject would be changed," Christie explained.

"Obviously you and I have a different interpretation of safe word," Wesley said taking a mouthful of salad. He let out a grunt of pain as Marc kicked him in the shins. He took his phone out of his bag, frowning when he saw a blank screen.

"Hang on what's Marc planning on doing?" Tegan asked, leaning forward.

"He wants to go into gang territory to solve a murder. Even I'm not the determined to solve this mystery," Christie replied.

Wesley looked up from texting on his phone. "You're a bigger dumbass than I thought. Anyway you said you'd help me put my brother's bed together."

"Can't you do that with your Dad."

"He's in China," Christie interjected. "Wes is less tense and the quality of his food's gone down."

Marc sighed and nodded, too tired to protest but he felt like mush. Placing his head on his backpack he closed his eyes.

Much to Marc's dismay Wesley escorted him from his maths class to his house. The delegation of taking Sandy Pulman home had been given to Tegan.

"Thanks for helping me, Mum freaks out every time I touch the bed frame. She thinks it's too heavy for me to do on my own," Wesley said.

"Wes, where's your brother?" Marc said, looking over his shoulder.

"Little Athletics," Wesley said. "He's a real disappointment, rugby and Oztag are the only way to go."