All American Boys

Chapter 32: Black Gold

To avoid looking so ignorant and stupid in front of Cyril, I decided to actually keep up with current events. Not like I actually truly cared, but if it helped me to maintain the façade with Cyril, I guess why the hell not. Besides, it helped me feel more secure behind all those layers of lies and finery. The thicker my armour, the safer I felt. But a castle with the thickest and sturdiest walls meant nothing if they were no men in the inside to defend it.

The gas prices seemed to stabilise for a while, and by stabilise I meant staying at high prices and seemingly staying there. I guess it was just a reality that we had to live with. The oil that made it out of the middle east was sold at exorbitant prices, but apparently from what I heard it was much worse out here in the eastern seaboard than it was in the rest of the country. New York was the worse hit, and the strikes there didn't make anything better. But it was all so distant, happening so far away from me. So I didn't particularly care. People here didn't complain much anyway. I guess everybody just had pockets wide enough to absorb the costs. Bethlehem was a rather isolated, wealthy community for the most part. Even if I wouldn't consider myself to be as wealthy, and even as I found the rising prices as a minor grievance, I was still admittedly more well off than people in other towns. It was how we even got to move here in the first place.

"If you're worried about gas," Cyril said to me as we were leaving class. "Then I can help pay for whatever you need."

"It's fine," I told him. "But thanks for the offer."

We walked up to his car in the parking lot, and I stepped into the passenger seat. Recently, I've been going to school with Cyril more often. I told him that it was sweet if he was the first person I met every morning, and he was the one who offered to take me to school in his car. It wasn't like I asked him to. Either way, it worked to my advantage. My gas would last longer.

"Actually, there's something else," he said once we were both safe inside the privacy of his car. "But promise me you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

"Of course," I told him, rather intrigued at what he had to say.

He turned to look around, as if to make sure no one could hear us, although we were in the safety of his own car. But I supposed it just meant what he wanted to say was a really big secret.

"My dad's been importing lots of gas recently," he revealed. "He's been getting it from one of his friends who owns one of the major oil companies. And he stores some of it home in barrels in the cellar, just in case we need it or anything. He doesn't want anyone to know, but you wouldn't tell anyone, would you?"

"No, no," I replied. "I won't. I promise."

Cyril seemed satisfied with my assurance, and gave me a slight smile.

"So, what I'm saying is that," he continued, "if you ever need some more gas, you know, God forbid anything were to happen, you could always come to me."

I raised an eyebrow at his offer.

"You're willing to steal from your dad for me?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"W-Well," he stuttered, a blush creeping onto his pale cheeks. "We have so much anyway, I don't think it'll hurt if I shared some with you."

"That's really sweet Cyril," I said, reaching out and placing a hand on his palm. "Thank you."

Cyril sheepishly brushed it off as nothing, but what he said left me thinking. He had mentioned a cellar in the Crawford mansion. If that was where Hugh hid things, then it was probably where I would find something damning about him. Something that could link him to the case. If the police hadn't destroyed whatever evidence they have gotten from us when they looted Alicia's room, then it was most likely hiding there. Whatever it was, it was worth checking out at least.

And of course, the party at the Crawford mansion was coming up. It was supposed to be a fundraising event, but honestly I was only there because Cyril invited me. It wasn't like I had anything to donate. Whatever it was, I should prepare myself.

I asked Cyril to help drop me off at the local library, telling him I needed to get something. He offered to come with me, but I wasn't comfortable with him around if I were to do what I was going to do.

"Well," he said, a bit dejected. "How are you going to get home?"

That was a good question. I wasn't sure how long I was going to spend at the library. I guess I could ask Cyril for a ride when I was done, but that meant that he was going to go home and then only come back when I asked him to. Sure, as much as it would be convenient for me, I didn't want to come of as an inconsiderate prick. I couldn't piss off Cyril too much, I still needed him.

Having considered my options, I told him I'd either take the bus or get an uber. Well, it wasn't that hard to get home anyway. When we pulled up to the local library, I kissed him goodbye, telling him I'd see him soon.

Once Cyril had driven away, I made my way into the brick building. Honestly, I had no idea where to begin. I didn't really think this through did I?

Yeah, this was a stupid idea. It's not like they'll have material for a murder case at the public library. That's like walking into an elementary school expecting to find a copy of Das Kapital. But then again, it's not like the police would hand over the case information to me, or even bother about reopening the case, so the public library was the best shot I've got.

Well, other than snooping around the internet of course, but I needed a breath of fresh air. Staying wither alone at home or with Cyril could get a bit suffocating to be honest.

I walked over to the reception area of the atrium, where a short, middle-aged woman with curled hair and rounded glasses sat at her desk. She looked up at me as I approached, flashing a sweet smile on her lips.

"Welcome," she said. "How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for the newspaper archives please," I replied. "August from last year."

"Is that all?" she asked as she stood up from her desk.

I thought about it for a moment. Well, I suppose August was the best place to start, since that was when the murder happened and how Alicia's tragic story got itself onto the front page of the local newspapers. If I was to find anything useful, I'd find it there.

"That's all," I said.

"Just wait here a minute would you?" she replied. "I'll have to go and retrieve it."

"Thank you," I said, as the librarian headed into the office behind her.

Through the clear window, I saw her opening some file cabinets, looking through the archives. I could also see myself in the reflection. Normally, I wouldn't have bothered about looking at my own reflection, except that at that very moment, the main doors opened.

There he was. I almost couldn't believe my eyes. I didn't dare turn around.

Isaac had walked in, wearing his football jacket. He had his haversack hung over his shoulders, and he carried a textbook in his hands. I don't think he noticed me as he walked past me and towards the right wing of the building. Nonetheless, my heart skipped a beat.

What could he possibly be doing here?

The librarian returned a few seconds later, bringing with her a large A3 sized album with her. 'August 2018' was typed on a label, attached to the plain black leather cover. The librarian handed me a book to sign, as a record to indicate who had been viewing the records. She had written the date and time for me in red pen, and she handed them over to me to fill up the empty column.

I wrote my name down as Isaac Anderson, coming up with a vague scribble as his signature.

The librarian told me that I needed to return the archive back to her before I left, and sign the book again. I justly nodded in compliance.

Once I was free to go, I headed to the right wing of the building, clutching the album in my hand. My heart was racing, still thinking of Isaac. Seeing him made me want to run away and hide behind the curtain, but at the same time, I knew that I couldn't stay like this forever.

I walked through the library, walking past the shelves and searching for an empty desk where I could sit down and flip through the sea of old articles. I'd go have a look at all the articles first, I told myself. Isaac could wait.

But that was all for naught when I caught sight of him. He was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, pencil in hand as he frowned over a thick textbook. Across the table was an empty chair. His table was also in the farthest end of the library, and there was no one else around. It was practically asking for me to sit there and try to set things straight with him, and I'd be a fool if I didn't read the signs the universe had specifically laid out for me.

Taking a deep breath, I take the first few shaky steps towards him. He only noticed my presence when I was already standing across the table from him. He looked up from his textbook, a look of irritation on his face. I didn't know whether that was directed at me or it was because he was just irritated at being interrupted while studying. Who knows? I was hoping it was the latter.

He couldn't be irritated at me, could he? Either way, I was still nervous, my heart thumping inside my chest.

"Is there anyone sitting here?" I asked, pointing to the empty seat opposite him.

Isaac only shook his head. I took that as a no, so I placed the album on the table.

"I didn't say you could sit there," he replied rather coldly, as he fished something out of his pencil case.

His response knocked me off my footing. I didn't expect him to be so cold. It was the same frontline of defence he had put up when we first met. It was almost like talking to a stranger. But I toughened my resolve, I couldn't give up just yet.

"I'm not bothering you, aren't I?" I said, placing a hand on the backrest of the chair.

He didn't say anything, jotting something down in his textbook.

His bluff wasn't going to fool me. I knew how vulnerable he was deep inside, and he knew that too. He continued to just study, ignoring me as I encroached. He wasn't even looking at me, he was trying to avoid me.

I sat down anyway.

It was one step closer to finally sorting things out with him. Even if he wanted to ignore me, it wouldn't take long for me to find an opportunity to speak to him.

Deep inside, he was just a sad, sad boy and sooner or later his front would crumble away. I just had to be here. I didn't even need to lift a finger.

Instead I went ahead with what I was meant to be doing, flipping through the newspaper clippings and pages. Eventually, I found it. The cover story on August 9th.

Tragic Robbery on Lavender Street.

I've read the article before, but I scoured every word all over again. It talked briefly about the robbery. Just a very cold and distant description about what happened. The time. The date. Alicia's age. Quite typical things.

They described her in one short paragraph, that she was an aspiring journalist, that she left behind a mother and younger brother. The rest of the article was discussing how 'shocking' and 'unexpected' such a 'brutal' crime was in our 'safe and secure' town. Hugh himself made a comment about how this was such a 'shocking' incident, and that 'the whole of Bethlehem felt the pain'. I only rolled my eyes.

At the very least, they put a very pretty picture of Alicia on the article. It was just a portrait of her from the bust and above. Her golden hair fell to her shoulders, her blue eyes somehow even more piercing behind the gloss of the laminated surface. She had worn the diamond-studded crucifix Hayden had given her for her birthday. It was one of the few times she didn't wear her heart-shaped necklace, just like the day she died.

Now that I thought about it, I remembered the signature glistening of her diamond crucifix that fateful day, shining in the sun during the last few moments I saw her alive. I didn't remember ever coming across that necklace ever again.

I didn't find anything useful in the rest of the article, so I just skimmed through the rest of it before moving on. Surprisingly, that was the only article ever talking about it. The next day, things were back to normal. I supposed it was natural of course, the world didn't revolve around me after all.

Isaac seemed a bit fidgety, toying with his pencil as he just flipped through the pages, back and forth.

I was just about to give up and return the newspaper articles to the desk, when something caught my eye in one of the articles nearing the end of August. I didn't really bother about the contents, it was something about the mayor and his wife attending a ceremony of some sort. What I was instead interested in was a little detail in the picture to the side. It was quite small, and I had to take a closer look, but I was pretty sure it was it.

It had the same glisten. It had to be.

It was a picture of Mrs Crawford, with a diamond-studded crucifix on her bosom.

It couldn't be a mere coincidence, could it?

I quickly noted down the author of the article and the photographer.

Just then, Isaac abruptly stood up, chucking his things into his bag and grabbing his textbook.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

He ignored me.

I quickly got up, bringing the album with me. I followed Isaac into the main atrium as he made a beeline for the exit. Seeing as the librarian wasn't at her desk, I placed the album over the counter, pressing the service bell before I rushed out of the building.

Isaac was approaching his yellow Maserati, parked on the street.

"Isaac, wait!" I called out as I ran down the pathway. "Please."

He finally stopped in front of his car, turning around to face me.

"I need to talk to you," I finally mustered. "It's important."

Isaac only stared at me with green eyes that couldn't seem more distant.

"You had almost a month Alex," he said.

I suppose he was still trying to keep that tough front, but everything seemed to be betraying him. His voice was soft and dejected, and his eyes were starting to tear up.

"If it was so important you wouldn't have waited so long," Isaac continued, his voice starting to crack.

I took a step forward, but he only raised his hand slightly to stop me in my tracks. Seeing him so hurt just broke me. All this while I thought he was the one who didn't want to see me. I had been avoiding him because I thought he didn't want anything to do with me anymore.

"I'm so-"

"It's okay Alex," he interrupted me, looking up at me as the tears threatened to pour down his cheeks. "Sometimes, sometimes I just need a reminder that I'm all alone in this world. It's the way it has always been. It's just. . . stupid that I actually hoped that it could change."

What could I reply to that? I've hurt him. All because of my cowardice. All because I was afraid about what he thought of me. I was more concerned with myself than I was for him.

Isaac stepped into his car, his face hidden from me by the tinted glass, before driving down the road, recklessly beating a red light.

I could only watch helplessly as a pickup smashed into the side of the yellow Maserati, sending it rolling over.