Murder in Winter

Danny

I sat through maths in mostly silence, hardly paying attention. I sit next to Zoey, who-being that kind of popular girl always spends the whole lesson chatting about just people in general. The last week of term before Christmas the topic was about how Mr. Brinkly's new hairstyle was so 'last season' and didn't suit a man of his 'ancient' age. Last week it was how Lindsay in 10D is 'such a bitch'; now of course it's about how Michael's so the murderer. I just sighed within about two minutes of the lesson, and started ignoring the conversation that she was having with some of the other girls. What was worse was that everyone was believing the drivel that she was saying, as if it was all true and as if there wasn't any one else that wasn't on the field.
Sitting there, not even trying to look like I was doing the work, with my compass in my hands, twirling it round and round. Just thinking.
How could anyone even imagine of stabbing this into another human being's neck? I thought. They must've really hurt them.
Randomly-even to my surprise-I glanced up, over to Michael. He was in front of the teacher's computer desk, diagonal to me. He was hunched over, lying on his table. For once in my life I felt sorry for him. Everyone was talking trash about him, and he was desperately trying to act like he can't hear them. And-trust me-I know exactly how it feels to be powerless. front of me. How it feels to have a group of accusing you of murder.
Suddenly, his posture changed, and he sat up, rotating in his seat to look behind him. I expected him to start finally fighting back, denying his guilt and arguing his innocence, but he didn't. And then I realised. He's looking at me...
I just stared back; paralysed. His eyes were a dreamy blue, that I could get lost in forever. But there was a hint of... Helplessness. No... Pleading. He glanced down at my desk. My hands... The compass.
I dropped the stationary and looked back up to stare at him; my breaths were heavy, and I could feel my chest rising and falling. He stared back; his eyes wide and scared. Almost...
Afraid.
After French, I headed back through the corridor towards the next room, assuming I was headed for form, when the other class's door opened, and Danny swept over and grabbed my arm.
"Danny? What're you doing?" I cried, startled.
"I've figured it out," he replied, without making eye contact and instead just marching me out of the building towards the stairs; through the sea of students, all in bulky coats.
A minute later, we were by the anniversary gardens, by the bush where I'd uncovered Ivy's lifeless body.
I shivered.
"Okay, so what've you worked out?" I asked, taking a seat on the least icy bench.
"Right, so we're all agreed that there's practically no chance that the murderer managed to successfully kill Ivy and drag her to this bush from anywhere other than extremely close to this bush. Right?"
"Yeah...?" I nodded. Where's he heading with this?
"However, we've also agreed that they couldn't have killed her by the path, because basically everyone else was on the field, and it's safe to assume that at least one of them would have seen them carry out the deed. Or at least see someone acting suspiciously."
"Yeah. So?" I questioned, the cold getting to me. I rubbed my arms with my hands. "What's your explanation for all this?"
"So, what if they committed the murder from this side of the bush?" Oh my fricking god we are complete and utter IDIOTS! I screamed internally. HOW did we not already think of that?
"Omg you're right!" I exclaimed. "Of course. That makes so much sense!"
"But we need proof, right?" Danny asked. "I mean yeah, it seems most likely, but why on earth would Ivy be round here in the first place?" he shrugged.
Why? It's just an endless journey of questions and doubts. Why can't we just find one thing that's for certain?
"What do you propose we look for?" I asked, slowly rising to my feet whilst dusting the snow off my coat.
"Well... I was thinking..." he pointed towards the floor. I didn't understand. "I know it's kinda gruesome, but it'd be evidence enough..." I just stared at him with a blank expression. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'm suggesting we...dig for clues. Most specifically...a trail of blood." I'm going to be sick I thought as my stomach lurched. He really wants us to dig around in the snow in the hopes of finding blood?!
"I'm sorry I asked," I said, nausea taking over.
"As I said, as gruesome as it sounds, it can't be worse than seeing Ivy like that on Monday." He knelt down, and began scooping away at the ground. "It would be great proof to prove my theory."
"What's to say the blood will still be there?"
"Surely it would've frozen, being surrounded by snow. And that hasn't melted." I swallowed, and began helping him dig around.
Despite my gloves, I could feel my fingers being submerged by the frozen water, which moved out of my hand's path; snowflakes seeped through the holes in the woollen gloves and stuck to my fingers as they melted. I hadn't dug very deep when Danny gave a cry. I reluctantly went over to see what he'd found, and sure enough, he'd struck blood.
"Well, I hate to say I told you so, but..." he began. I was speechless. We were just sat there, staring at this frozen blood. Then Danny moved. He started digging again.
"It's got to lead to the bush," he said in way of explanation, and I sighed and helped him. We dug in both directions, following the blood round both to the bush and the opposite direction so that we could find the exact position of death (so where the blood trail ran out), which ended up being behind a bench, hidden from each side.
"Well. Now we know where it happened," he gasped.