The Calling Of Quinn Taylor

Chapter Five

Excuse me, what?
             "The police say there's nothing to back it up," he continues, rubbing his hands through his hair in frustration, making his hoodie slop off. His hair has already begun to build up grease from yesterday, most likely the first day he bathed since prom.
             "But the hit and run?" I try.
             "Accident," he says. "Everything was an accident, right?" He raises his voice, finding his head rising up. "Fucking idiots." 
               I'm not the only one losing my mind over this. There's more-- there's probably so many more minds lost. 
             "But what if-- what if we go to the station with evidence? There's no way they'd turn us down, Wesley! We just need to find… something," I say, jerking up with a pounding heart. My newly-found energy feeds off of the pure anger of the ones I thought I trusted… the sheriff who won't take in any suggestions.
              "Is this some type of game to you?" he says, standing up. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns around. 
              Instinctively, my hand grips his arm.
              You're not leaving me again, Wesley Kingston.
              "It's not some game. I came here because I want her to have justice, just like you."
              He jerks away, his eyes drifting across the street. I follow them after the sound of a car beeping locked.
             There she is-- Riley Anderson. She stands in her driveway, staring at us in pure fear. 
             Her front door opens, revealing a Latino mother with dark, thick hair reaching her chin and a look of terror hiding in her deep brown eyes.
            I can make out the words she says as Riley stampers to the porch.
           "Get inside sweetie," she says, just before giving one last glare into my frozen eyes and shutting the door behind her.
           I look back at Wesley and he stands in front of me with a tear slipping from his eye.
           "They think-" I try, but can't manage to get it out. But I know it; he knows it. 
           The entire town believes he murdered his sister.
          "Quinn," he says. "Leave." 
         No-- not like this. It's not safe. He's broken… he won't be okay in this state. I need to stay, I need… I need to fix him. 
         "For God's sake," he exclaims, wrapping his hand around my wrist and dragging me inside. He slams the door shut, letting the band echo throughout the house.
         "But you were at the party!" I yell. It's absurd; the whole thing is.
         "Don't you see it?" he says. "We left after her-- me, you and Keller. Think about it. We were the only ones. Brandon left with Riley after, and Mia stayed the night with Jessie. Look at the picture, Quinn!" He lets out. He leans against the wall, sighing in agony with his hands running through his hair.
           So… they think I was involved? Why would I do such a thing? It's true-- everyone thinks I'm a cold-blooded killer! So I was right… they did think I killed her. That's why they looked at me that way and that's why Brandon asked me on a date. He's getting information-- seeing if Keller and I are truly capable of it. 
           But Keller-- Keller Avery wouldn't hurt a fly. The worst he's done is get caught for his gossip. Why would someone blame him? He's… he's such a good person. 
          He can't know. He can't know what they think; it'll kill him.
           I can't do this.
           I can't handle this. 
           "Wes," a small voice says from the staircase. I turn around and find the girl from the funeral who stood beside Wesley-- his sister. "Mommy can't sleep with all the noise… what do I do?" 
            Her eyes peer at me and she flashes a slight, half smile. 
            He looks up at the ceiling, then back down. 
            "Stay," he instructs, pointing his finger at me.as if I'm a child. 
            "Grace," he says, approaching the stairs. "What has she been drinking today?" 
            With that, the two of them disappear into the stairs, leaving me alone. 
            I'm stuck with only my thoughts long enough to notice the kitchen with beer and wine bottles piling up in stacks. I notice the dishes wasting away in the sink and the lack of flowers and cards. 
           Soon enough, I find myself growing of the uncomfortable screams and cries from a room above me. 
            Stay. He's okay. 
            His footsteps come echoing through the ceiling, followed by him carrying what seems to be a lifeless body. 
            But when I look again, my heartbeat returns to its normal rhythm.
            His mom is sleeping in his arms and he's holding her like a baby. 
            "The door behind the T.V-" he says, taking his last step on the floor. "Can you open it?" 
            My feet sutter around the room before opening it. It opens to a dark room with clothes scattered around the floor, but pictures of family hung up on the walls. An unmade bed fitting two people sits in the middle and that's where Wesley lies her. 
           If this is her room, where was she before?
           After she lies down, fast asleep, he rummages through a drawer and picks a bottle up. 
           "Mom," he says, making his way back. 
           Seeing this makes my heart snap. This was a family-- a happy, loving family. 
           Then one thing happens and it all breaks. One person does a single, incredulous and sinister act and they don't even realize they've torn an entire family up.
           Chills run up and down my spine.
          "Hey, wake up," he says, rolling her over. She bolts up. 
          "Did I-- did I do something? Are Wes and Grace… oh," she cries. Her eyes wander around the room in confusion and lock on me. "Wes, is that your girlfriend? She's quite beautiful."
           Seeing someone like this makes me question humanity. Why would someone kill another person if it leads to this? Her mom is barely human now. She's clearly doped up on artificial happiness and isn't thinking straight. Her thoughts are being generated by the false chemicals running through her body from medications. 
           "Mom," he tries. Her hands fall to her face in agony. 
           "Do you need breakfast, dear? Here, I'll make-"
           "Mom," he says again, holding her back from getting up any further. "I just need you to take this, okay? That's all." 
           He hands her a pill and reaches for the water bottle on the table beside her. 
           How could he be capable of murder? He's the one holding his family together; even if it's tearing him apart. 
           "Oh," she says. 
           She… she doesn't even know the time of day. It's nearly five in the evening and she asked about breakfast. 
          She grabs the bottle and gulfs down the one inch pill. 
          I should leave; this isn't my place to be here. 
          She falls back to the mattress with her eyes drifting shut. 
          "Find me when you wake up," he says, followed by inaudible groans. 
          Before he turns around, I sprint towards the door. He doesn't need to see me-- I just need to leave. 
          "Quinn?" He says, just as I open the screen door. "Quinn, what are-" 
          But I'm already out the door when he finishes the sentence.
***
          What does someone wear to a date with someone who's investigating them in a murder? I almost don't want to go. 
           He's going to pretend he's interested-- get my number, ask how finals are going and if I'm ready for the last one tomorrow, tell me the weather is excellent, and I bet my life he'll try to hold my hand. 
           There's no way in hell I'm holding that sweaty hand. 
           My thoughts track back to the same thing.
            What does one wear to an event such as this?
            It's the sushi restaurant in town, so I have to dress at least a little nice. 
            Rummaging through my closet, I finally find a yellow t-shirt dress that nearly reaches my knees. I toss a baggy jean jacket with rolled up sleeves over it and slip on a pair of sneakers. 
            Last time I put this much effort into dressing up was the funeral. 
           But tonight, I'll try to forget it. I'll try my best to enjoy my time with Keller-- it's valuable. I'll focus on having fun and not looking at Brandon nor Mia as a suspect… even if they look at me as one. 
           Forget about it. It doesn't matter. Enjoy yourself.
           At the sound of the front door opening, I jerk up.
           This is it.
           I take my hands off the dresser and stare at myself in the mirror. 
           I can do this. It'll be fine.
           Rubbing my hands through my hair, my chest loosens up and I finally feel ready. 
           "Quinn!" Mom's voice sounds. "You didn't mention you had a date." 
           The footsteps face out of the kitchen and towards my room.
           Suddenly, I'm full of thought again. 
           Do I look okay? Am I wearing the right thing? 
           This isn't even a real date-- why am I thinking this way? 
           I don't have feelings for this guy and I never will. The only reason I agreed was for Keller; he needs his mind off things… just like me. Maybe Brandon won't be so bad. Perhaps I can loosen up and pretend this isn't all a sick, twisted test.
          "You look nice," Brandon's voice says from my doorway. 
           I snatch my purse sitting on my dresser and snap up. 
           Brandon Hamilton is standing in front of me with an orange button up shirt that compliments his chestnut brown skin. 
           One week ago, I wouldn't be caught with this guy-- let alone, Riley Anderson. Ever since that night with Wesley, nothing has been the same. 
           "Can we go?" I say, just as Mom appears from the corner with a beaming smile. 
           "Your first date," she says, sending me into shudders. "Be safe."
           If I wasn't an outcast already, I definitely am now. 
           I shuffle out, closing my bedroom door and gripping Brandon's wrist. I maneuver past my mom and manage to get to the door before she says,
          "In more ways than one!"
           "Mom!" I shout. My heart races as I open the front door. I need to leave-- I need to get out of here. 
           Brandon chuckles behind me, but it doesn't stop me from racing out of that door. 
           On the porch, I'm finally safe-- safe from a tormenting mom. 
    “First date?” Brandon says, placing his hands in his jean pockets. 
    Thanks, mom. 
    I shrug my shoulders, holding my words in. Speaking to him just gives into the plan they put in place.
    As we walk to his car, he says,
    “So there’s a party at Jessie’s place tonight.” He opens the door for me and I slide in. After he runs around and gets in on his side, he continues. “Figured we could hit it up after eating.”
    A party? I don’t plan on going to one again… not after what happened.
    “An actual one this time with, like, more than five people,” he says, pulling out of my driveway. 
    Jessie McFall’s house; the memories come flooding back. 
My last final is tomorrow-- if Mom and Dad find out I’m at a party, all hell would break loose. I can’t do it. Plus, I doubt Keller would be up to it; his parents are just as strict as mine. 
“My parents wouldn’t-” I try.
“Just say you’re studying at Keller’s,” he says. Somehow, he knows what to say-- almost a if he’s planned this. 
I mean, tomorrow’s final is only health and shouldn’t be a problem. Plus, a party is the perfect thing to keep my mind at ease. 

When we arrive at the sushi restaurant, Keller and Riley have already saved a table and have dug into an appetizer of egg rolls. 
Keller is dressed in a polo shirt and khakis-- his hair has even been brushed back instead shabbily laying in front of his eyes.
On the other hand, Riley is simply wearing leggings and a crop top with sneakers… she doesn’t even have the decency to pretend this is real date. 
She glares at me as I sit down, directly across from her. 
“We didn’t order yet,” she coldly scowls, not taking her eyes off me. “I think I’m gonna’ get the crab sushi.” Finally, she shifts from me to Brandon, smiling for once. 
My palms grow clammy as the atmosphere around me begins to thicken with coarse air. 
Water-- I need water. 
No. 
I need out; I need out of this date. I’m simply being judged and looked at as a murderer. If I leave, I’ll be fine. That’s it. That’s all I have to do.
“Quinn?” Keller says, bringing me back. “You okay?” 
I breathe in. 
It’s okay. I’m okay. And I can handle this for one night. 
“Yeah,” I say. Thank you, Keller. Thank you for caring. “You ready to order?” I ask, turning to Brandon. He folds his menu and takes mine, shining a grin.
“Yep,” he says, unable to wipe that God-awful smile off his face.
The date consists of talking about finals, what are plans are for college, the addiction of online shopping, and how good the food is. Neatly an hour passes before Keller surprisingly says,
“You guys ready for the party?”
And with that, we pile out and head for Jessie’s house. 
***
    Jessie’s front yard is completely full of cars, forcing us to park across the street. 
    Before heading in, I send the text to Mom, lying about pulling an all-nighter-study-sesh with Keller. It pains me to lie to her, but I don’t have a choice; If I back out of this party, I’ll be seen as incapable to stay… afraid to blow the cover they think I have. 
    I climb out of the truck and wait for Keller.
    “This blows,” Keller’s voice says from behind me. We stand in front of the house, watching Brandon and Riley walk in without us. 
Music blares from the house while Skye Richards, Carter Garcia, and Flynn Arlo sit outside, playing with a deck of cards while a bong sits in the middle of them. 
“Sorry for making you do this,” he says as we walk across the street. “I feel like shit.”
“Hey,” I say, stopping him at the porch stairs. “It’s fine-- a party is just what I need right now… I need to get my mind cleared.” 
“But Brandon and Riley don’t even want… I… I don’t even know why she asked me out.”
Oh, poor Keller. I want to tell you, I really do.
Time will tell.
“Just have fun tonight,” I say, rubbing his arm in comfort. He sighs before heading up the stairs.
“Fun,” he mumbles. “I’ll have fun.” 
He opens the door, queuing me to follow, so I do. As far as I know this is a mistake, I follow him.
“Quinn,” Flynn says with squinted eyes and a hopeless smile plastered on his lips. “Quinn Taylor.”
And that’s the last thing I hear before opening the door.
Maybe… maybe I’m not so invisible after all.