Australians Don't Belong in Indiana

Confrontation

I couldn't seem to get the thought of Drew out of my head. What was he afraid Julie told me? I went upstairs to my spacious bedroom to sleep it off but the question boggled my mind. I only knew one thing to do since I knew Drew wouldn't answer my questions. It felt wrong, but I got on Twitter and I sent Julie a direct message.

"So, what's Drew's problem? Why does no one talk to him?"

I waited five minutes and then my phone made a high-pitched ding sound signaling that Julie had responded.

"Well, its really complicated. When we were all really little his dad killed a couple local girls. They were like 23 and 25 years old I think."

I was confused. What did this have to do with Drew? It wasn't his fault that his dad was a murderer.

"What does that have to do with Drew?"

Instantaneously, she responded.

"You didn't let me finish. About 3 years ago, 2 years after the murders, Drew got into a lot of fights with kids at school. He used the same excuse everytime. 'They were picking on me. Talking about my dad. Whatever. He went to juvy for a year and we've avoided him ever since."

"But the kids were mean to him. He seems sweet, just damaged."

"He has his dad's genes. He is bound to kill someone eventually. Just trust me on this one, Scarlett. He's bad news."

I didn't feel like responding. I was too shocked by what I had read. He didn't look like a murderer to me. I can see the violence in him but his intentions are pure. I mean I guess you can't judge a book by its cover, but not him. 

I was so intrigued by this boy. Why did it have to be him? When I thought I would never be able to go to sleep, I sank into a deep sleep and was awakened by an annoying beeping sound that I recognized as my alarm for school. I couldn't go to school. Not after what I just found out last night. I attempted to brush it off as I got my towel and washrag and stepped into the hot shower.

As I was running the shampoo through my hair, I continuously thought of Drew. Drew in those viscious fights. I had to make myself stop. I couldn't let this bother me. I stepped out of the shower to find an outfit. I chose a silk black tank top and a pair of white jean shorts. 

After drying my hair and applying my time-consuming makeup, I ran downstairs to find that my mom had already left. I grabbed a bagel out of the pantry, as I had already begun growing tired of eating the same granola bar everyday, and went outside to my car.

I arrived at the school and began pulling into the school parking lot. It was then that I was reminded that I was going to have to park next to Drew, the potentially killer according to Julie. Why was I scared? I was the one defending him last night, right? I ignored my thoughts and pulled up into my normal parking space next to Drew's baby blue mustang. I grabbed all of my things out of the passenger seat and opened my door. Standing right in front of me was Drew. I avoided looking at him and walked on to go to class. Thankfully I was quick enough and Julie couldn't catch up to me. I knew she would ask me questions about my thoughts on Drew. She was a nosy person. I guess most popular people are. That is just another reason why I hate everything about popularity.

First block flew by quicker than I expected, and soon enough I was packing up my things and heading for second block, my class with Drew. I walked as quickly as possible to get to class and when I walked in, I remembered. I sat next to him in this class. When I walked back towards my seat, I saw him walk in. My heart was racing. He walked in, looked at me, and walked back to his seat next to me. He turned his head towards me, stared, and then said, "Hey, are you okay?"

I didn't notice, but my hands had been shaking since he had walked into the classroom. My face must have been as white as a ghost. I turned and looked at him and realized that he was expecting an answer to his unanswerable question. I mean, did he really care? Stop. No. He cares. He is not evil, or mental, or psychotic. He is not his dad.

"I know everything."

What did I just say? Sure that's what I was thinking but that doesn't mean I wanted to say it. He didn't respond. I couldn't decide if I should've been happy that he didn't engage in the conversation, or worried that it was true. That he was psychotic . These thoughts were racking my brain when I was interrupted by the school bell dismissing us to go to third block. How was second block over? I feel as though I had just idiotically responded to Drew. I needed time to slow down. I needed time to think. Think about Drew. Think about the fights. Think about his dad. Think about everything.

I couldn't focus in any of my other classes and just waited for school to be out so I could see Drew in the parking lot and apologize for what I had said. Was that the right thing to do? After all, he never denied anything. I walked as quickly as possible to my car.

I had decided that I wasn't going to say anything to Drew. It scared me too much. Once I reached the parking lot,  I noticed that he was leaning up against my Jeep, almost as if he had been waiting for me. He was in between me and the car and so I asked, "Can you please move? I have got to ge-"

I was stopped in the middle of my sentence by Drew's muscular hand covering my mouth, while his other hand grabbed my wrist. Slowly, he said, "Get in the car. I'm not going to hurt you."

I did what he told me to. Not because I wanted to, but because I was afraid. He got in the drivers seat of his baby blue mustang swiftly after forcing me into the passenger side. He backed the car up and we began driving off of campus. What was he going to do to me?