I kept my focus dead ahead, not giving eye contact to anyone there.
“Quinn, hey,” a voice came from behind me, but I didn’t turn. “You at the circle this week?”
I slowed to a stop, then spun around to see one of the green-capped guy’s buddies from the beach. “Why are you talking to me about this?” I asked, keeping my voice low so nobody could hear our conversation, hoping he got the damn hint to shut the fuck up.
“A few of us are getting there early, grabbing a few beers before the show? Wanna join?”
I rushed him, getting in his face, almost nose to nose. I had to stoop a little to meet his. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I ground out between gritted teeth, my temper flaring so damn high I could’ve kicked his ass right then. His face drained of color, and his brows shot up so high, they virtually disappeared under his floppy blond hair. I stabbed my finger into his chest, knocking him back. “The show? Do you think this is a fucking game, dumb-ass? That we beat on each other for shits and giggles?”
He shook his head so fast it was comical, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed repeatedly. “N-no, Quinn. I was just saying—”
“Don’t bother showing up,” I snarled. “You’re not welcome, and neither are your friends.”
“Jeez, Quinn,” he complained. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I don’t give a fuck how you meant it.” I got in his face one last time. “You’re out. The only time you’re ever getting in again is if you’re a participant.” When he backed up, I turned and continued on my way, only pausing to blow a kiss at Mrs. Montgomery, who was standing in the doorway of the student office, her usual scowl for me in place. “Hey, gorgeous,” I said, laughing to myself when her already powdered cheeks turned darker pink with frustrated anger.
She loved me really, just like Dean Beaufort. Like a pulsating cyst that they wanted to get rid of, but had to bear for a little while longer. And I liked them just as much.
I tried not to fall asleep while Mr. Cunningham went about his class, his monotone teaching voice boring me to fucking death. The reason I didn’t catch up on some much-needed sleep was the fact that he was very much aware of David’s antics. I smiled, understanding why he was reticent rather than calling me out. I batted my lashes at him a couple of times, the same smart-ass expression I reserved for people like him and his shitty excuse for a son.
“Fucker can’t even look at us,” Josh whispered, leaning toward me. “Do you think he’ll try anything?”
I stretched my legs out and folded my arms over my chest, sliding down until my ass was barely on my seat. “With what he now knows, would you?”
Josh snorted a laugh behind his fist, coughing to disguise it. “Not a fucking chance, man. I’d be shitting out half my body weight if it were me.”
“Then, I think it’s safe to say this point has been well and truly made.”
“Fuckin’ ay.” Josh held out his fist for me to bump, and I did, right when the prof saw us.
Nothing had happened after David’s car was found all burned to a fucking crisp, not that they had any evidence, but I did. I held all the damn cards, and if anything came crawling back in this direction, shit would hit the fan like a tornado at a pig farm.
“Assignments are due in at the end of the week, so if you could, please make sure to have them to me by the end of the day, Friday,” Mr. Cunningham said once we began clearing out of the room. Once Josh and I passed by, he took a step toward us. “Uh, Quinn. Could I have a moment? You too, Josh.”
“Sure thing,” I replied with a salute, and propped myself against his desk, waiting for him to close the door for privacy.
“What’s up?” Josh asked with a shrug. “Is there something you want to get off your chest?”
I smirked and glanced at Josh, then to the prof.
He took a long, deep breath, blowing out of his nose a moment later. “Yes, there is,” he finally replied. “My son, David, is back at his college now. Only…” he checked through the long rectangular window in the door, then got back to us. “People are saying things about him—things that he’s supposedly done. Would you know anything about this?”
Supposedly? He saw the fucking pictures for fuck’s sake.
Josh and I looked at each other, then shrugged, our faces blank of all knowledge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, drawing my brows together in a mask of confusion. “Maybe if you told me what this is…”
He shook his head quickly. “I don’t think that’s appropriate.” He walked behind his desk—I didn’t move from where I was leaning against it—and opened his drawer, pulling something out. “These were discovered a few days after his car was found.” He held up a small, charred leather item, the dark-blue had turned black where the cow skin had melted. The other item was a burned up fob with filthy keys attached to it, and a phone with its screen smashed to bits. I had to hold in a laugh. “Do you know what these are?”
“Should I?”
“His keys, phone, and what remains of his wallet.”
“Huh, would you look at that?” Josh studied the items, sending a quick puzzled look to me. “That looks like the newest smartphone, too. The camera on those things captures everything.” His mask slipped back on, and his eyes flicked to Mr. Cunningham.
“Yeah,” I drew out, making sure my eyes were on him and staying there, so he understood what a fucking piece of shit he’d spewed from his balls. “Full HD. Shows every pore in your skin, I heard.” My lip curled up into a half-smile. “Every. Single. Detail.” Right then, my mind traveled to Kinsley with her camera, taking pictures of grass, trees, and possibly some of the students here. I wondered what she saw through the lens, if it was so different from what we saw around us.
“So, yeah, we don’t know anything,” Josh said, lightly digging me in my ribs.
I tipped my head toward the professor. “But please, Mr. Cunningham, do pass on our best wishes to him, would you?” I unfolded my arms, my leather jacket falling back into place, and pushed off of the desk. “We have another class starting soon, so while this has been delightful—” I coughed up a repressed chuckle as I spoke “—we can only say that we honestly don’t give a shit.”
“But, thank you for bringing your concerns to us.” Josh eyed the phone in the prof’s hand. “Shouldn’t the police have those? I mean, they are evidence after all," he added, following me out. “Interesting,” he said when we were clear of the prof’s ears. “I don’t recall any of his shit being found anywhere near the site his car was discovered. Plus, that phone has everything on it, so why does he have it?”
“I didn’t need it anymore,” I replied. “I got what I was after, then dumped it.” It was better that Josh didn’t know all of the details of what I’d done, because if anything did come back to me, he wouldn’t be a part of it. David Cunningham got what was coming to him, and I’d seen the evidence to prove it.
“So, you smashed up the only thing to prove what he did?” he whisper-shouted.