Shards

I need to know who Angelo really was.

We're standing outside of the high school. 

I went to this school, so did Angelo. It seems like so long ago, even though it's only been two months since I've graduated. I would be moving into my college dorm if I had gotten that sholarship. 

Maurice is standing in front of the school gates, hands on her hips. She's concentrated on the metal, deep in thoughtof how she could overcome it. 

"Are we going to break into the school?" I ask her, even though the answer is ovbious. I always ask stupid questions. 

"What does it look like?" Maurice points out sarcastically. She's right, what else would we be doing here?

"Sorry."I mumble. 

We're not going to be able to break into the school, not without getting caught at least. It has security cameras and an alarm is set off if any movement is detected while the school is closed. Given the fact that Maurice is still thinking of how ways to get over the school gates, I can safely assume she's never done this before and she clearly doesn't know about the security measures the school has in place. Maybe I can stall for time, but she seems pretty set on getting in.

"We're not going to be able to get in," I blurt out. That's not really what I was planning on doing but I guess I'm rolling with it now. "There are cameras and motion detectors. We'll get arrested."

"Do you want to know about this or not?" She hisses, she sure is stubborn. She raises one eyebrow at me in a cocky manner, this all feels like a test and I'm probably failing it.

"Do you want to go to jail for breaking and entering or not?" I say this before I can even think and I instantly regret it. "Wait, I'm sorry I shouldn't-" 

"It's easier if I show you, so shut up and listen to me." She snaps. it feels like her personality online is completely different. "I'm in charge here." 

"No." 

I just stood up to a girl who's pretty much in a gang. What the fuck am I even thinking being here. She's going to kill me.

The look on her face is what shocks me. It's not anger, or even any negative emotion I can think of.

It's pride, or at least some degree of being proud.

"Stop. I get that." Maurice says that I'm right, and says that there's another way that she can show me what this group of people was.

The entire bus ride to Maurice's house, thoughts are rushing through my head. The moment of pure panic I had that Maurice wouldn't listen to me was enough to be a panic attack, I'm suprised I didn't get one.I'm suprised I'm not having one now. It all felt fast, and it was such a small moment. I don't even know why I'm freaking out, I'm just relieved I got her to listen to me. It's a small victory, but a victory nontheless. I'm proud of myself for standing up to her, even if I was, and still am, scared out of my mind.

Her house is neat and pristine, with perfect carpeting and nice white couches and handpainted paintings scattered neatly on her walls. It matches her appearence, neat and put together. Her appearence doesn't match her personality, it's jurastically different. 

I wonder if Angelo had ever been here before, to Maurices house. If he had been, he probably wouldn't have told me. He wouldn't have been shocked that Maurice lived in a place like this, he never made assumptions about anyone. Or maybe he did, I'm not sure if anything I think about him is true anymore.

Walking into Maurices room is strange. It's noticibly different from the rest of the house. The color scheme, the decorations, even the engery. It goes from slow and steady, to fast and out of control

Her room is dark, with dark colors and decorations like any angsty teenage girl would have even though Maurice is technically an adult. What throws me off, though, is the bulletein board that's hanging above her bed. Scattered among the many pictures and pieces of paper, there are two pictures of Angelo, one is a selfie of the two of them and the other is a polaroid of him and I. 

Where did she get that?

Did she know about me all along? 

How many secrets was Angelo keeping from me? 

The deeper I dig, the more this empty part of me grows. I would stop trying to get the truth but I can't. I need to know why Angelo didn't tell me. I need to know who Angelo really was.

Before I can ask any questions, Maurice's sharp voice interupts my thoughts. 

"Give me the enevelope." She holds out her hand as I rummage through my bag, pulling it out and handing it to her, ignoring her impatient look.

She pulls out her keys from her pocket and shines a small keychain light on one of the slips of papers inside the envelope, reavealing faded writing. It's one of those lights that are on the end of invisible ink pens you get at book fairs. Black lights. 

"Why he didn't get rid of these is beyond me." She hands me the keychain and paper. "I think this can explain a lot."

Reading the slips of paper, they look to be tasks. 

Angelo really was apart of this.

I can't deny it any longer.

I never really knew Angelo.