fractures

we're getting somewhere

Layne

For the first time in a long time, I'm looking forward to something. What is it? Tracking Abbey down and interrogating her until she tells me everything.

And this time, I most definitely will not let it turn out like my confrontation with Gwyneth. She was hard to talk to, hard to read. I wasn't able to use anything against her to get her to spill the beans. Her thoughts, her emotions, her words, are all sealed up tight, and people can only see or hear what she wants them to.

But Abbey's a whole different story. She's not even like an open book, she's like the headlines of a newspaper, whatever goes through her head blatant for all the world to see.

The bell rings and I'm the first one out the classroom. Abbey ends at the same time I do today, and her last period is art. I'm gonna have to run if I want to catch her before she leaves. The art block is on the other end of school and I sprint all the way there without stopping once.

It's the first time I reach the art block under five minutes. I've always hated art for some reason, maybe because my mother forced me to take it for years, and I've always made excuse after excuse after excuse for being late. Most of the classrooms are empty, since many people in this school find art as loathsome as I do. There's really no use for the art block. The school board should just go with majority and demolish it. 

I check and double check each classroom, even the empty ones, because some part of me thinks Abbey might be hiding in one of them. A classroom door further down the hallway opens and a flood of students crashes out. Then finally, finally I see Abbey. She's holding a piece of paper - her artwork, perhaps? - and she's talking and smiling with a girl I know as Elizabeth Snow. 

I start forward and reach Abbey in seconds, forcing myself not to grab a hold of her and shake her until she answers. I don't want to appear like some kind of mental freak in front of Elizabeth. So I tap Abbey on the shoulder and ask as politely as I can, "Could I talk to you for a sec, Abbey?"

Abbey turns and her laughter dies off the minute our eyes lock. 

I smile at Elizabeth. "Sorry, Elizabeth, for interrupting your conversation, but Abbey and I need to discuss some pretty important stuff."

"Oh, it's nothing," Elizabeth replies, oblivious to the tension growing in the air. "I was just going anyways. See you next week Abbey!"

Then she's off. 

Abbey starts to walk off as well, but I grab her arm. "I need to talk to you."

She doesn't try shaking me off. 

"How do you know Marlene?" I ask, not letting go of her arm even though she isn't even trying to escape. Better safe than sorry.

"What's it to you?" Abbey shoots back, head stubbornly turned away from me. 

"Were you her friend?" 

"Does it matter?"

"Are you just going to answer my questions with more questions?"

Abbey doesn't respond to that. 

"Look, Abbey, admit it already. You knew Marlene. You probably also know something about why she died, or what led up to her death. That's why you asked to help me, isn't it?" I reason, loosening my grip on her arm. "I don't remember what happened, but if you tell me what you know, then perhaps I might start remembering. I can help you piece together what happened that night. Besides, two brains are better than one." 

What seems like eons of silence pass between us. 

Then Abbey finally speaks. "You're right. I knew Marlene."

"But you're wrong about the other part. What I know about why Marlene died or what led up to her death are just guesses, just my intuition, nothing concrete," Abbey admits, still keeping her head turned away. "I can tell you, but there's no guarantee I'm right." 

"It's better than nothing," I reply optimistically, letting go of Abbey's arm. 

As I walk out of the art block with Abbey, I allow myself to do some internal rejoicing. 

Because finally, finally, we're getting somewhere.