Let's Pretend We Never Happened

Chapter 19-The Attack

Chapter 19- The Attack

 

I wish I could’ve said that this day had been a good one. I really want to have said that all I did was hang out with Landon, call up Brennan, talk more with Malik and Drew and get a drink at the Milkshake Joint

But I can’t say any of those things without them being blatant lies

The day started off with a mission: to retrieve more information about my mom’s murder. The night before, I had managed to endure the large amounts of homework quickly (although, also thoroughly), and had therefore made time to make a visit to the grand- but never peaceful- St. Andreas library.

The inside of the huge auditorium-sized room was obviously, spacious, but also warm and inviting. It was quite a surprise to me, that I hadn’t previously had much care to go inside the beautiful building.

It was probably because Landon had told me that only seniors hung out there, and that it was nothing special. Clearly Landon didn’t have the same level of appreciation for books and a warm environment as I did.

The St. Andreas library, wasn’t actually called The St. Andreas Library. In fact, it was named after William Clintwood, a famous philosopher who was St. Andreas alumni, and apparently had enough money lying around to build a library in his own name. However, I wasn’t one to judge the man- I actually quite liked this place.

 

The inside walls were brick red (without any bricks in sight) and had black, sparkly granite fireplaces, an odd cigar smell, and also the oh-so-amazing smell of new books. There was aisle after aisle of literature, each under a specific category, and then further sub-sectioned into smaller genres.

Now this was the place for a future journalist to thrive, not a stinky old dorm.

Since I had been old enough to formulate an actual, realistic plan for my life, I knew that I would never be truly happy until I found out who had killed my mother.

I sought out a career path that could help me, and that was when journalism came into light. I’d always been a curious child, asking my mom, Anne, and even Brennan, endless amounts of questions till they grew tired of me and demanded I shut up.

Also, I loved to write. It was a way for me to jot down my feelings without admitting that they were mine.

I also seemed to have a knack of getting the truth out of people. Naturally, I was born to be a journalist.

On this particular night, after I had done my homework, had an early dinner without Landon (he was out with Malik and Drew doing god knows what), I made my way down the elevator and out to the library.

Once there, I had found a quiet spot (which had been difficult since Landon was right-seniors were swarming everywhere) at the back of the history section of the library (who knew eighteen year olds hated history!)

I took out the laptop the school had given me once I’d arrived and began to research the murder. My mom’s old law firm (the place where she was an unimportant lawyer) was called Dirkwell’s Law Practice. I had known that already. The owner, George Dirkwell was an old, good-natured guy (from what I could tell from the article picture), who had founded the organization decades ago. However, the acting CEO of the company was his son, David Dirkwell, a guy with similar features as his father, but no good-natured vibe coming off of him. Don’t get me wrong- he didn’t look evil, he just didn’t look particularly nice either.