- AHMED -

"If I didn't know better, I'd be willing to bet Steven planted that body there to get attention," Irina said as she crossed the parking lot with me after school.

I sighed. "Gosh, Irina, don't you think you're being a little hard on the guy? I mean, this can't be easy for him."

"Oh, like it's any easier for us? Try to remember that a cop came to my house with a picture of me and some girl who looks like she could be my sister. Steven's not the only one who's going through a lot. And if I had to guess, I'd say he's enjoying the spotlight a heck of a lot more than we are."

I looked down. "Irina, look, I know all the crap Steven's done, but...I don't know. It just doesn't seem right to throw him under the bus like this."

Irina kept walking, her stride intact. "So then...what are you saying?"

"Maybe we should...I don't know...try reaching out?"

Irina actually laughed out loud.

"Irina, come on. Grace just broke up with him, he's run across two corpses in ten days' time, and I feel like he could really use a friend...or two."

"Well, he has one. Dylan's his best friend, and that should be enough."

I sighed, then turned to face Irina, my eyes squinting in the brightness of the afternoon sun. By this point, we'd made it to her car and she was rummaging through her purse for the keys.

She exhaled lowly. "Look, Ahmed, if you really want to try and make nice with Steven, go for it. I'm not stopping you. But when he tells you to bug off, don't get mad if I say I told you so." She pressed the unlock button on her car keys, looping her fingers through the keychain hole as she did, then pulled open the driver's door, seated herself inside, and drove away.

I waved as Irina departed, then turned back to head to the front of the school, where I would wait for Katherine to pick me up. Passing several black-and-white police vehicles parked along the sidewalk, I walked up the asphalt-laden path to the main building.

I opened the double doors and walked inside, where I spotted Ms. Charity waiting with her legs crossed on a bench outside Principal Turner's office.

"Hi, Ms. Charity!" I called out, waving.

She looked toward me and smiled that warm and genuine smile she always seemed to wear. "Hello, Ahmed. It's so good to see you, dear. I hope you've been keeping well."

I sighed as I walked over to her, closing the distance between us. "I guess as well as I can, given what's been happening lately."

She glanced down. "It really was a tragedy to hear about Caroline. And not even two weeks after Glenn's passing."

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. It seemed changing the subject was the only thing I could do. "So, um...what're you doing out here?"

"Just waiting a moment. Now that I'm a member of EdgeWay, I've requested a position on the Outreach Team. Pastor Hall and several other members of the church board are in Principal Turner's office right now discussing my candidacy."

"Whoa...that's amazing! Are you nervous?"

"Honestly, I'd say I'm more excited than nervous." She smiled. "I've already prayed about this, and I think it's God's next step in my life. He wants me here, doing outreach at EdgeWay." She paused for a moment. "I always knew He would end up leading me back here. I just wish it hadn't been under such dire circumstances."

I hesitated. "Um, Ms. Charity...do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Not at all, dear," she said. "What's on your mind?"

"I guess this is kinda silly, but...I've been wondering this since I met you." I gulped. "How do you do it? How are you so calm, so happy all the time? I mean, two dead bodies in ten days' time...that's enough to give anybody the creeps. But you—you seem so...free. Are you honestly not even a little scared by all this?"

She shook her head slowly. "Ahmed," she began, "I learned a long time ago that fear serves no purpose. Whoever has committed these murders doesn't scare me; they bring me great sadness." She exhaled a wistful sigh, then glanced to the ceiling before continuing:

"They're so gruesome...the murders, I mean—so devoid of decency. But I think the corpses tell us a lot more about the person—and perhaps the people—responsible than they do the victim. They write in words and scriptures they do not understand, hoping to alleviate their pain through the suffering of others. They torture, ravaging the body in hopes of avenging...well, I'm not sure exactly what they're hoping to avenge. Perhaps a crime perpetrated long ago, a hatred unforgotten..."

I nodded, shuddering at her every word.

"But nonetheless," she continued, "I can't help feeling that whoever's behind all of this needs a friend, someone who'll bring care, compassion—and love. I just hope we're not too late."

I paused. "Wait, we? What do you mean by—"

"YOU!" My earnest question was interrupted by an angry and familiar voice, followed by the heavy thunder of stomping shoes as Pastor Hall's outraged son stormed over to me and Ms. Charity.

"Steven," Ms. Charity began, "hello, dear. How are you?"

"Shut up, you skinny old maid! I know what you did!"

"Whoa, dude, calm down," I tried, stepping in front of where Ms. Charity sat on the bench.

He grasped my shoulder in under a second and shoved me to the left. "Screw off, Ahmed!" His livid eyes turned back to Ms. Charity. "You showed Grace those videos, didn't you!? I KNOW IT WAS YOU!"

"Steven, I did no such thing—"

"QUIT LYING TO ME!" His words roared through the hallway as if projected from a megaphone. "She ended things; she broke up with me—all because you couldn't keep your ugly little mouth SHUT!" He paused, seething. "Well, you enjoy it, Charity. Because this is my school. And you're gonna pay. I'm gonna make you wish you'd stayed at your stupid church in California." He leaned forward so that his eyes were level with hers as she sat motionlessly, returning his gaze. "I hope you like dirt, 'cause I'm gonna bury you."

He stood back to his original height, content to stare down at her with a haughty half-grin stamped across his face. Her eyes didn't flinch; she met his without hesitation and left her hands resting atop her crossed legs. Without saying a word, she watched as Steven Hall finally turned to leave, plodding off to the hallway's end before shoving his way through the double doors.

"...Wow." I hesitated. "Ms. Charity, I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Steven's just—"

"It's quite alright," she said. "He's been through a lot. We both know that." She sighed and cleared her throat. "He just needs time to recover."

I shifted uneasily, stuffing my hands back inside my pockets just as the door to Principal Turner's office opened. Out of it stepped a tall man in a suit whose forehead was covered in wavy brown hair. "Ms. Vaughn-Daley," he addressed her, "would you mind stepping inside?"

She smiled. "Well, of course, Landon." She stood from the hallway bench and walked quickly into the office.

I know it was a nosy thing to do, but I couldn't just leave there without knowing whether she'd gotten the position she wanted. I waited outside the office, trying but failing to hear through the thick, whitewashed glass at the door's center. After only a few minutes, Ms. Charity reemerged, a generous and genuine smile radiating beneath her eyes. Landon accompanied her, as did Pastor Hall and Principal Turner.

"Thank you all so very much," Ms. Charity said. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

Pastor Hall seemed a bit conflicted, but he chuckled anyway, quirking a single brow. "With a donation like that, I don't see any way we could possibly say no, Charity." He reached in his suit-jacket pocket and retrieved a set of car keys. "Well, I must get going. Landon, I trust you can see Charity out?"

"Of course," Landon nodded. "Right this way, Charity." He placed his hand gently on her shoulder as Principal Turner stepped back inside her office and Pastor Hall headed toward the back door to exit the building.

I followed closely behind Landon and Ms. Charity, the three of us initially quiet. At the hallway's end, it split into two paths, and Landon broke the silence:

"Charity, I just wanted to thank you again. Your financial donation to EdgeWay is greatly appreciated." He paused, briefly considering his next words. "Quite frankly, you're a Godsend."

She turned to him, looked him in the eyes and smiled that lively, vivacious smile. But then suddenly, her lips twisted—bent unnaturally into a frown. Her eyebrows scrunched downward; she exhaled heavily, sharply, as if she'd seen some dreadful sight.

Wet droplets condensed at the bottom of her eyes, threatening to rupture and waterfall down into the darkness of her cheeks.

"Charity?" Landon's voice was fearful. "Charity, what's wrong?"

She gave one more uncertain glance into his eyes, then let fall the tears in her own.

"A-are you alright—?"

"Landon," her voice crackled as teardrops coursed past her jaw and dripped to the floor. "Landon, please. Use this, this money that I've given you...use it as a chance to do right by the church."

"What?" Landon's eyes darted left to right, resting on me for a moment. In them, I could see dread, confusion—and for a moment, something that resembled genuine terror.

I didn't know what to say. I just stood there, frozen on my feet, as Charity reached out her hands and grasped Landon's shoulders tightly, leaning on him as she wept.

"God loves you, dear," she finally said to him. "He loves you deeply, and so do I."

Landon nodded slowly.

"Please," she seemed almost to beg. "Please, always remember that." She exhaled, released her grip from around Landon's shoulders. "I love you." She turned quickly to go, walked down the hallway's left path. She made it to the exit and opened the door, allowing it to slam shut behind her.

****

I was waiting outside for another ten or so minutes in silence before I felt my phone buzz with a message from Katherine:

Ahmed, it read, got caught up helping with the funeral arrangements for Glenn and Caroline. I'll be there to get you in 20.

I sighed, remembering then that Katherine had agreed to help organize the joint funeral that EdgeWay was having for Glenn Clather and Madam Caroline. It was so strange; I hadn't known Glenn at all, and the tiny window of time during which I'd known Madam Caroline had been anything but friendly. Still, that she'd been murdered in such close proximity to Glenn, and both with such...vengeance—it seriously gave me the chills.

Man, what is with this town? Shivering, I took a moment to look around the parking lot. It was mostly empty, save for the few cop cars still scattered across the asphalt and one solitary silver vehicle that sat hidden under the shade of a tree.

...I know that car. I gulped. That's—

"Ahmed, you're still here?"

I spun around. "Irina? I thought you left half an hour ago."

"I did," she answered. "I came back to get my history notebook. I left it in class." She held up a white folder with her name written across it. "Katherine still hasn't come to pick you up?"

I shook my head.

"If you want, I could drop you off. I mean, my house is just right down the street from here, and yours isn't that far out of the way."

I smiled. "That sounds great. Hold on a sec while I text Katherine." I tapped in the message onto my phone's digital keyboard and awaited a reply.

Seconds later, Katherine's Sure, that's fine popped up on my screen.

"She said sure thing," I grinned as I informed Irina.

"Yay!" Irina squeaked, clapping her hands. "I guess that makes me your chauffer for the evening, Mister Heavenstate."

I laughed as she took a giggling bow, eyes retreating briefly beneath her hair's dark brown waves. She lifted her head again and smiled that sweet smile of hers at me. I followed her to the only civilian car still parked in EdgeWay's lot and climbed inside the passenger seat, buckling in as the engine whirred to life.

She's seriously amazing, I thought to myself, Irina pulling onto the main road with a few deft twists of the steering wheel. I just wish we had more in common than getting swept up in a murder. I let out a plaintive sigh, then turned to stare out the window at the overhanging trees beginning to shadow the path ahead of us.

We were passing the town's cemetery, bright green shrubbery bunched together at its entrance, when I spotted a tall yet unimposing figure kneeling at one of the gravesites. He held bright-orange flowers in both hands; and even at a distance, I could make out those telltale waves of dirty blond hair.

"Irina," I said to her. "Isn't that Sam?"

She screeched the car to a halt and twisted her head right. "What!?"

Sam just knelt there for a moment, his lips bent into a frown as his eyes grazed over the grass, refusing to look directly at the tombstone in front of which he sat. Placing the flowers at the foot of the grave, he reached up with his right hand and swiped at his eyes.

"What's he doing?" I asked Irina.

"I—I don't know. It looks like he's...crying."

The two of us sat perfectly still as we watched Sam brush tears from his eyes.

I wonder if...if he lost someone.

Sam stood to his feet moments later and started walking out of view, the long and wispy arms of a willow tree obscuring his figure.

"I wonder whose grave that was," I thought aloud to Irina.

She was silent for a moment, then unlocked the doors. "Only one way to find out. Come on. Let's go see."

"Irina, are you sure—?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I haven't seen Sam since what happened at Madam Caroline's office, and now she's dead."

"Irina..."

"I'm not saying Sam had anything to do with it, but I at least want to know if he's hiding something from me. Stay in the car if you want, but I'm going in that cemetery."

"Okay, fine," I acquiesced. "I'll go. I just...I don't like it. Sam's my friend. He's your friend. And I want those murders solved as much as you do. But if we do this...it shouldn't be because we're trying to pry into Sam's life. I mean, for all we know, that could be a relative of his who died. Just because he was at a cemetery doesn't mean he has something to hide. And even if he does, is it really any of our business?"

Irina stepped out of the car and closed her door. "Like I said, you're welcome to wait in the car if you'd like, but I'm heading inside."

I let out a heavy sigh, then opened my door and followed her up the cracked asphalt to the cemetery gate.

She pushed the doors open, and the two of us stepped in between huddling shrubs. We ambled over to where Sam had been kneeling and read the name engraved on the silvery-gray stone:

"Bethany Irish," I said aloud. "See, Irina? I told you. I bet that was his mom, and—"

"That's not his mom," Irina said back. "His mom's name is Madelyn. And he doesn't have any siblings either. In fact, no one in his family's named Bethany."

"Are you sure? How do you know that?"

"Because, Ahmed. Remember how we were Iron-Sharpens-Iron buddies since I was in kindergarten? When I got to fourth grade, one of the projects we were required to do was a family-tree plot that spanned at least five generations. We both did one, and no one on his family tree was named Bethany. I swear it."

I felt a cold chill run through my spine. "Th—then who is she?"

Irina sighed. "Well, there's only one person who can answer that question, but I doubt he'll talk to us." She paused. "I bet Madam Caroline knew; she knew everyone's business. Too bad she's dead."

"Irina, stop it," I demanded. "That's not fair. We agreed we weren't going to jump to conclusions based on what we found out here."

"Yeah, and when I was in elementary school, Sam and I agreed to be best friends forever, but you see how well that's working out!"

"Irina!" I finally screamed back. "What's the matter with you? I get that you're mad at Sam for shouting at you, but are you really saying you think he's a murderer?"

"I'm saying I don't know what to think." She exhaled lowly. "Ahmed, something's happening in this town—something terrible. And we can't just sit around and wait for another body to pop up."

"Irina, that's true, but don't shut someone out just because what they're doing doesn't make sense to you."

"Are you hearing yourself? He could have killed someone, and you want me to give him the benefit of the doubt!?"

I was silent for several seconds. "Well, what if he thinks the same thing about you?"

"Then he fits the dumb-jock stereotype a lot better than I thought." She crossed her arms. "I was nowhere near Caroline when her body was found—by Steven, might I add—and as far as Glenn goes, you and I both know neither one of us had anything to do with his death."

"Yeah, you know that, and I know that, but have you mentioned it to Sam?"

"What? No, I—"

"Then how's he supposed to know that he can trust you?"

"Are you kidding me right now, Ahmed?"

"No, I'm not kidding you. You're so quick to say Sam is shady, but maybe that's why he hasn't said anything to us about—"

"The only reason he's not saying anything to us," Irina cut me off, "is because he's hiding something, and that's that. And you can say that we should trust him all you want; but at the end of the day, Madam Caroline trusted someone...and so did Glenn Clather."

She turned away for a moment and gave a heavy sigh, then motioned to the cemetery entrance through which we'd come only moments before. "Let's go. It's getting late. We should probably get you home."

I simply nodded, not saying anything in reply. Irina started walking, and I followed at her heels, keeping my head down. We trekked back through the entry gate, tiny pieces of gravel crackling under our feet as we made our way to Irina's car and drove off down the highway.

Irina was silent the entire trip to my house, as was I. I lay back against the passenger-seat headrest and closed my eyes, wondering if maybe I should end the quiet and apologize to Irina. As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. Sam had been acting weird. But if I was completely honest with myself, so was Irina...and that scared me.

As we rounded the corner and pulled up in front of my house, I glanced for an instant at the dashboard in front of me. A single strand of long blond hair rested motionlessly there, its color sheening brightly against the dash's leather blackness.

"Alright, we're here," Irina spoke up.

I opened the passenger door and stepped out. "Bye, Irina," I tried to sound as friendly as possible. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

"Bye, Ahmed," she answered back, half-smiling at me as I closed the door.

She returned her eyes to the road, and the half-smile left her face. She put the car in drive and sped off, her darkly brown hair suddenly contrasting in my mind with the blond strand I'd seen on the dashboard.

What blond person had been in Irina's car...and why?

Suddenly shivering, I put the question out of my head and marched up the sidewalk as another car drove by, one that followed the path Irina'd driven only moments before.