The SecretBusterService status update: eighteen hours ago

Dear students of Califur High,
Jen Hilton has secretly been seeing Jared McKenna. Jen and Jared. Jen. And. Jared. Yeah, let that sink in. I would say it's an astronomically bad pairing, but that still feels like an understatement. Like, what do they even have in common with each other? A knack at throwing lame and boring parties? 
Until next time Lions,
Bond 007.

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After an excruciating session with Jeremy, where I spent a good chunk of our time convincing him to take that damn test, and an exhausting shift with Cathy, where I graded the said test and groaned so often it made Cathy offer me laxatives, I was ready to hit my bed and turn into a rock.

It was dark by the time I reached home, like it always was, but I could smell the barbecue only my mom could whip up, which I usually couldn't.

Light was coming from the backyard, along with laughter, and my shoulders sagged further. 

I don't know if anyone else likes it, but my idea of winding down after a long, hard day did not involve a friendly barbecue dinner with the neighbours.

I walked into the house first, to drop off my new bag (it had replaced the one with a ripped strap from that day) and washed my face. My body simply had no fuel left to run, so now I just had to make sure that I managed to not seem like I was high (which for some reason seemed the case every time I was too tired and slightly sleep deprived), and get out and back in as fast as I could.

It felt like I had no energy to even eat something; which was further proof that I was turning into one of the characters from the Walking Dead. If I couldn't muster the will to feast on my mom's barbecue, it was time to end the day.

"Thomas, hey!" Mr. Walker exclaimed as soon as he saw me enter the kitchen. He signalled for me to come join them on the table, outside, even though they were almost done eating and there was barely any food left on the spread.

Mr. Walker was our neighbour. He was also Stef's father.

Stefan Walker had moved in next door just a year ago. He was in my class, but had he not been a dandy dandelion flitting on the sidewalk (did I just use those words together in a sentence? See. High) when he walked to my house and introduced himself with the biggest basket of peaches I had ever seen, I would have never talked to him. 

He was my opposite in every way. He had never picked up a basketball in his life (his interests lay in some different balls, he claimed. I had never brought it up again), he would faint at the sight of blood (he said there was a reason no blood was ever supposed to be outside on purpose. I tried to bring that up every time I saw him) and he spoke a gazillion languages (I spoke English, and the phrase 'I don't speak Spanish' in French- how, one may wonder? Two words- Timothy O'Sullivan.)

"Come along, son," Dylan called out, seated between my mom and Daisy. He had left the hospital earlier than I did. 

I stalked over, noticing for the first time, that Sienna was also present, and had been hidden from my view behind Stef. Both of them were stuffing their mouths like squirrels loose on a bag of nuts, but they managed to send individual nods in my direction. 

I couldn't help but smile. I was exhausted beyond my wits, but this view, of all the people I cared about, sitting in one place and eating together, always tugged at my heart.

Things could change anytime, I knew nothing was truly constant, but these people- they managed to give me a moment of peace when I did not even know I was feeling restless.

I took a seat beside Daisy, across Stef and Sienna. 

"So? How'd it go?" Sienna asked, as soon as I filled my plate with whatever food had miraculously remained untouched by my fiends. Daisy produced a big piece of cake from under the table. She always saved something up for me.

"How did what go?" Stef asked, looking at both Sienna and I, one by one. 

I groaned (for like the fiftieth time today) and signalled for Sienna to fill him in, while I filled myself with some food.

When Sienna was done, having greatly exaggerated the entire story, (Jeremy had NOT seduced Mrs. Calloway in the way she was describing- although, as I gave it a thought, I could never be sure if that was truly the case or not) Daisy turned to me. 

"OH MY GOD!" She exclaimed, getting a little too excited, "Bring him home, please! He is so cute, Thomas!"

"No."

Sienna snorted at my tone, and Stef, who was always triggered by Sienna's laughter, spilled some of the juice he had been drinking on the table cloth.

I did not like disagreeing with Daisy about, well, anything. But bringing Jones home was just not on the table. I would never willingly bring him into my house again. I specially, did not want to risk it with Daisy around. He did not use any substance as far as I knew, but you did not need to be under the influence to hurt others. He was also triggering a lot of negative emotions in me,  and I did not want to find out how I would react seeing him in my personal space once more. 

Perhaps worrying he might hurt Daisy was not as much of my concern, as worrying I might do something to hurt her if I lost control was.

I had it in my blood, after all. My father couldn't control himself, neither could my brother, it was only a matter of time before I joined that list.

Daisy did not push me. She did give me a weird look, but shrugged it off soon and went back to eating. 

Stef and Sienna kept talking about their day, which, for some reason, involved a spaghetti bomb and a very angry janitor dripping in red sauce. Right as they reached the point in the story where they pulled the plug to let the sauce drop, Daisy got up. She muttered something about being tired and needing to go to sleep. It was already past eleven, and she, too, had school tomorrow. She wished everyone good night, but her eyes didn't meet mine throughout. 

Had I made her upset? 

I wanted to go after her and explain that I hadn't meant to be mean, but she went off to our mom, talking to her about something which made her look in my direction, thoughtfully, (now what was that about?) and kissing her on the cheek.

"So, now that Daisy is gone," Sienna started, drawing my attention back to our table, "I can talk about something I've been meaning to talk with the two of you for a while."

Stef and I stole confused glances at each other, having a silent conversation in our heads.

Do you know what she's talking about?

No.

I've been saying 'no' way too much recently. It's starting to concern me.

"It's about the Scotch Killer."

This time the look Stef had, which I felt I mirrored, was of pure concern. We knew Sienna well enough, and if she wanted to talk about a serial killer being hunted by the FBI at the moment, we knew we couldn't keep her too far away.

I just hoped she wasn't going to ask us to start visiting crimes scenes or whatever. We'd look more like some creepy suspects, and less like concerned citizens of the town.

"Look," she started; colour rising in her cheeks as her spirits raised in excitement, "I've been talking to my sister's fiancé, because they're doing that now apparently, and you know how Flint is a cop, right? He's been telling me about this case, and they think it's someone who has been living in this town for years. The locations of the murders are pretty off the chart places. Like, they are so remote, that only someone who knew where they were going would reach there. The FBI did their profiling thing and what not, and they think they are looking for a tall, broad male in his forties. Probably caucasian."

"Like Ted Bundy. Or Jeffrey Dahmer," Stef added, nodding at the description.

I furrowed my eyebrows, "Didn't Jeffrey Dahmer get convicted for killing men of colour? Huh. Maybe, Catherine was right about serial killers being fruity."

"Hey! That's...offensive?" Stef looked around, as if someone else would miraculously tell him whether it was hurtful or not.

Sienna slapped my hand, making me drop a carrot, "That's not the point, guys!"

"It's not?" Stef asked, running his hand through his hair.

I picked up my carrot again, but Sienna slapped both of us once more, and my carrot went flying to the ground this time.

"People! Focus! We have a profile! We know what we're looking for! We could catch this dude."

Stef nodded sympathetically in Sienna's direction, looking as unconvinced as possible. I bent down to pick the carrot which was not destined to end in my belly tonight.

Sienna remain undeterred, "I already started working on this. If I get murdered next, the killer is most probably our janitor. He'll want to put me in place. Only, I'll put him in his place first." A dreamy expression overcame her features at the thought of getting an opportunity to not only meet a serial killer but also mutilate him.

My body stiffened as her words truly registered, "Sienna, while I'm pretty sure it's not David, that was a horrible risk to take. You really shouldn't be doing these things, that killer is dangerous!"

"I thought it was a simple sauce prank!" Stef stared at her in mock outrage. I kicked him in the shin and he smartly added, "Please don't tell me your master plan involves dropping spaghetti sauce on middle-aged white men around the town," he looked at me with wide eyes, making sure I don't miss the fact that he got my message, "Because that would be...bad."

Real smooth, Stef. 

"Whatever," Sienna shrugged off, obviously none of our wisdom reaching her head, "Moving on from all of this, I feel like it's Tom's turn to talk now. Spill it, baby. Was Mr. Handsome face really as bad as you thought?"

My parents, and Stef's parents had started cleaning up their end of the table, and so we got up to do the same. I thought about how my experience had been with Jones. He wasn't as bad as I had thought. 

"No, he was much worse," I began. "First, he ditched the session to go for his football practice, and so I had to tell on him to the fucking coach. Then, when we finally reached the library, I gave him this test I had, and he really needs help, okay? Because he doesn't study shit! Like, who the fuck can't answer questions with a list of formulae right on the other side of the paper?"

Stef piled the plates on top of each other and asked without looking up from his work, "Damn, at least the man knows what he wants, right? Did he know the formulae were there though?"

"Yeah, I told him that twice," I shrugged.

Stef raised an eyebrow and let out a whistle. Sienna shook her head at us, "Do the two of you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, not everyone has a way around numbers like the two of you do?"

"Nah."

"Not really, no."

She chucked chunks of the leftover salad, including my previously soiled carrot, in our directions.

I expertly ducked, but a juicy tomato hit Stef square in his chest.

"Oh, you're dead meat, Perez."

----------

Hey y'all,

How is everyone doing? Two days into the new year, and I am already tired of it. Can someone just point me in the direction of my bed? I would be most grateful. 

Like every year, people talk about how quickly time flies, and that they don't know where the year went. I know exactly where mine went. I had a really long year. Very eventful, and not entirely pleasant all the time.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed the update. I'm not even energetic enough to form any more coherent thoughts. It's like past midnight here, and I am much like Thomas when I need to go to sleep. I don't feel like killing more braincells anymore, I already feel like I don't have enough.

Hope to see you soon again,

Byeeeee