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Note to Self:
This one is kind of a doozy. It's kinda long.

Chapter Two


Time seemed to be going in slow motion. Minutes seemed like hours, hours like days, and days like weeks. It had been a week since Karl’s murder and it still didn’t seem real. One question remained unanswered for Celeste. Why had she seen the killing? Was it a vision? She didn’t understand. The evidence of the pain she was feeling inside was written on her face. She had no makeup on, her eyes were red and puffy, and her long brown hair was scraggly and unbrushed. Usually, her bright green eyes would sparkle, but since Karl’s death, her eyes would shine no more.

Then, during fourth period Art, a man walked into the room. He looked like an officer of some sort. He whispered something to her teacher and her teacher nodded and said, “Celeste? Officer Pechem would like to speak with you.”

Celeste had been expecting this. She sighed and stood slowly, preparing herself for what was going to happen. She followed the officer out of the classroom, out into the hall. A wave of dread and grief swept over her as the door clicked shut. Officer Pechem took a deep breath and looked at Celeste.

“My name is Bill Pechem. You know why I’m here.” he started. “Karl James was murdered and many people say that you were best friends.”

Celeste nodded, but said nothing.

“How was your relationship?”

“Well, we were best friends, so that should tell you something.” said Celeste, sarcastically.

“Yes, but… did it ever go past friends? Did you ever want something more?” asked Bill.

“That… that’s private information.” Celeste said, blushing slightly.

Officer Bill sighed. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m gonna need you to come to the station with me. Go ahead and grab your stuff.”

Celeste looked taken aback, but she obliged. She walked down the hall with the Officer, seeing many students in the Cafeteria for lunch snickering and whispering, “ooh, someone’s getting arrested!”. Celeste shook her head and ignored the other students.

After a twenty-minute car ride, they arrived at the police station. Bill led Celeste inside. He sat her down outside of an office. He came back out a few minutes later, saying that he needed her to come inside a room and sit down. She knew what room she was in. It was an interrogation room. She looked around, extremely confused. What the hell am I doing in here? Officer Bill entered after her and, as she sat down, closed the cold iron door.

He sighed and sat in the chair across the table from her. The chairs were cold and metal. He stared hard at her for a few seconds, his dull brown eyes meeting her sharp green ones. Finally, Bill took a deep breath. He pushed against the table and pushed his chair back, the metal of the chair scraping against the floor like nails on a chalkboard. He paced his side of the room for a few moments, then stopped abruptly. He turned to her and almost immediately opened his mouth and said:
“Why’d you do it?” he said rather harshly.

“Excuse me? What are you talking about, I didn’t do anything.” Celeste replied even more harshly.

Bill scanned her with his eyes for a moment, then, “Look, I know this is difficult for you, but I need you to tell me where you were when Karl was murdered.”

Celeste’s head seemed to spin. She shook her head, as though trying to clear it. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, or what he was suggesting. She opened her mouth several times but nothing seemed to come out. Finally, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You think I killed my best friend!”

“I just need you to tell me where you were.” He said, and she sensed some caution in his voice.

“I was at home, in my bed, asleep! Do you honestly think I would murder my best friend?” Celeste asked incredulously.
“Do you have anyone that will vouch for your alibi? Because your mother said that she saw you when you went to bed and then when she got up, as you shook her awake at six a.m., crying and hysterical. Do you know anyone who can vouch for where you were between the hours of three a.m. and five a.m.?” he said, leaning, with his hands against the table, threateningly towards her.

Celeste pursed her lips together, and she inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring. She shook her head, the stood.

“I don’t have to do this. My parents aren’t here and I don’t have to answer any of your questions, so, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go back to school now.” And she picked up her things and yanked open the door, almost running face first into another face. She stumbled backward, slightly taken aback. She looked again at the face that she had almost run into and saw that the face was attached to a boy.

He was scruffy and dirty looking, but almost in an attractive way. He looked as though he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Although his face was dirty, his clothes were those of Abercrombie and Fitch. He was clearly very wealthy. He rolled his eyes at Celeste, then turned his attention to Officer Pechem.

“Are you going to be much longer? We’ve got to go!” he said in a very deep, grumpy sounding voice.

His voice stirred a memory in Celeste’s head, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. She closed her eyes and saw dark figures, but she didn’t know where the memory was coming from, and she could only see flashes of it.

“Are you almost done? Come on, lets go!” said the boy again, but Celeste was not listening to the words or the conversation, but the boy’s voice.

Then it clicked.

“It was him.” she said, nodding at him. “He did it, he killed Karl.”

Bill scoffed.

“That’s impossible. This is my son.”





 
 
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