"I'll be back in a few, I'm going downtown to grab lunch!" Shawn shouted to his mother and younger siblings, quickly zipping up his jacket on his way to the front door.
"Be careful!" Mrs. Holland yelled to her son.
After closing and locking the thick wooden door, Shawn, mind occupied, commenced down the home's rickety porch stairs. There was a thin layer of white dust covering the the ground, which on a normal day would have delighted Shawn, but considering the day's events, a snowfall was the last thing on his mind. While reaching the end of the steps, the young man's eyes widened and his motions halted completely. On the bottom step, there was a piece of folded white paper being held down by a jagged rock, which was eerily similar in appearance to a sharp blade. He began to look around suspiciously at his surroundings, hoping that whoever left this note was still around somewhere. Bending down cautiously, he picked up the mysterious note.
"Back about or it every you you good."
"What the hell does this mean?" he exclaimed, finding a place to store the paper neatly in his coat pocket.
Before Shawn was able to further inquire the contents of the mysterious note, his stomach started to growl, protesting due to a lack of nourishment.
"Okay, okay," he muttered, "food now, detective work later."
The young man made his way over to his red pick up, tossing the car keys upwards. The blonde stood in position waiting to catch them in his palm, but the sound of a familiar feminine voice emerged from behind him, causing the ring of keys to hit the cement with a loud thud. The boy turned around quickly, almost resembling a cartoon character. The red head's eyes widened, looking at Shawn, then at the ground, before turning her attention to her former best friend once again.
"Hi Shawn." Maya smiled sheepishly.
Neither one knew what to say, so they simply stood statuesque in silence until Maya cleared her throat and spoke again.
"So, uh, how are you?"
Shawn scoffed, leaning against the door of his truck arms crossed.
"Let's skip the small talk and get to it, shall we?" he said with an almost bitter tone of voice, "I'm assuming you're not here just to visit, right?"
"Not exactly-" Maya stuttered nervously, only to be interrupted by the tall blonde standing in front of her.
"You heard about the murder."
His sentence came out as more of a statement than a question. Maya didn't intend to lie to her former comrade, as it would create more problems than it would solve.
"Evan's dead," she stated solemnly, "I can't believe it."
Shawn sighed at Maya's words. He shared the same feelings of shock and grief.
"He was one of the nicest people I've ever met." The young man said, his face falling in the process.
"Remember when Davis Combs spilled lemonade all over the back of my white pants," she asked in reflection, "and Evan walked right behind me for the rest of the day so no one saw my pants and thought that I peed myself."
The boy couldn't help but laugh, but his expression quickly turned sour.
"I remember how he was there when the second murder happened," Shawn began, "He saw everything. Tried to pretend like it didn't get to him."
"How do you know he was pretending? I mean he always seemed to be doing so well. Probably better than all four of us combined. "
"He told me," the blonde stated rather matter-of-factly, "after baseball one day."
YOU ARE READING
Two Years
Mystery / Thriller"When most people go back to their high school, it's usually for a reunion, not a murder."
