High school graduation is one of those things you never expect to actually happen.
You fixate on it for so long, you always imagine life after school, but you never really expect it to come, and when it does, so many students wind up completely unprepared and flapping in the wind mere months later. Leaning against the lockers, waiting for Scarlett to finish her makeup in the nearby bathroom, Wyatt was looking at his neatly manicured nails when he heard a snicker from beside him. He glanced and noticed Rachel Minnow sitting on the floor - also in her graduation gown - sitting there, doodling. "What?" Wyatt asked, somewhat grinning. "Nothing, just never seen a guy look at his nails the way you are," she replied. "Oh, it's only cause my girlfriend did them so they'd look good today," Wyatt said, "I can see you're not a believer in proper hygiene though." "Hey, my nails are perfectly fine, thank you," Rachel said, setting her pen down in her book and looking up and down the hall, sighing, adding, "it's weird, right? This whole thing is weird? The fact that come an hour or two from now, we'll no longer be students? Hell, we never have to be again if we don't want to. College isn't an outright requirement." "This is true," Wyatt said. "I never thought this would actually happen. School is so long, it just seems like it would go on indefinitely. I never really thought the day would come when I'd be an adult," Rachel said, "it's...scary." "It is scary, yeah," Wyatt said, "but hey, look at it this way, school is full of assholes, right? So at least after today, we'll probably never see any of these people ever again. That's pretty good, right?" Rachel thought for a moment, then nodded. It was good. She didn't like basically anyone at the school, save for Sun Rai, and after today she'd never have to interact with any of them ever again if she didn't want to. If only she knew that, ten years later, she'd be stuck right back with the people she vowed to never see again. Life's funny that way. *** Wyatt pulled up to Calvin's house early that morning. Calvin was disheveled, wearing sunglasses, and had a plastic grocery bag full of snacks. Wyatt smirked as he climbed into the car and Calvin pulled off his sunglasses momentarily, smirking. "What?" he asked. "Didn't realize we were goin' on a picnic," Calvin said. "Hey, we can't just blow him up immediately, it needs to be remote detonated, but it has to happen at the most random time, so we might be here for a while. You're free to have some of what I brought," Calvin said as he buckled his seatbelt. Calvin started up the car and began pulling away, heading to Grudin's first Tuesday stop, his local bank. As Calvin sipped his coffee, he sighed and looked at the styrofoam cup in his hands. It had come from Rachel's place of work, and he smiled. How weird it was, to be here ten years later, with the same exact people. He glanced over at Wyatt and cleared his throat as they pulled to a red light. "You ever think about the fact that we barely spoke in school and now, here we are, about to commit a murder together?" Calvin asked. "Please, let's not call it a murder. It's a mercy killing," Wyatt said. "Whatever verbage you need to use to soften the blow to your morality is fine with me, I just think it's weird," Calvin said, "you know...I just never really thought I'd see you or anyone from school ever again, and yet here we are. Not that we ever interacted much in school, but still. The whole idea is weird, but I guess that's what happens when people never leave the town they went to school in." "I always sort of assumed that I'd have left this place at this point in my life," Wyatt said, "Never wanted to work for my dad, but I couldn't resist the offer, especially once Scarlett got pregnant. He quite literally made me an offer I couldn't refuse." Calvin chuckled as he reached into the bag and pulled out a travel sized bag of chips, pulling it open as Wyatt continued. "Believe me, if I could've just taken Scarlett and run for the hills, I would've in an instant," Wyatt said. "I couldn't stand being that far away from my parents, they're my best friends," Calvin said. "That's sweet." "Especially after losing my wife and kid, they're really the only ones I feel like I can depend on," Calvin said, "besides, what with my sister having run off, I couldn't leave them completely childless like that. It would just be outright cruel. We need eachother." "Well, you're lucky," Wyatt said, "...wish I was blowing my dad up instead." The red light turned green, and Wyatt sped off, heading towards the bank. *** Sun Rai was making herself breakfast when the knock at her door, urgent sounding in its intensity, surprised her. She put the butter dish lid back on and headed to the front door, opening it to find Rachel standing on her porch. Each woman had the look of sheer surprise to see the other, but Sun Rai finally stepped aside and allowed Rachel inside the house. "Your parents aren't here?" Rachel asked. "No, my mother took my father to a doctors appointment," Sun Rai said, "Do you want some toast? I'm making toast." "No, that's okay, thanks," Rachel said, walking down the hallway that connected the foyer to the rest of the house, looking at all the pictures of Sun Rai on the walls and smiling to herself, "...I guess this is kind of weird, right? Just showing up suddenly?" "I did it to you, so it's only fair," Sun replied, making Rachel laugh. "True, true," she said, "uh...god this is hard. Okay, so, like..." Sun walked towards Rachel and Rachel stepped backward, stammering, blushing. She had so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to admit, and yet she couldn't do it. Despite waiting literal years to have this discussion, dreaming it would never happen, she now somehow found herself woefully unprepared. "You don't have to say anything," Sun Rai said, and Rachel shook her head. "No, no I have to, I have to say that I have been in love with you since high school and that I never could've expected you would feel the same way about me and that I'm terrified and-" "I never have liked a woman before," Sun said, shrugging, "but there's something about you...so considerate and beautiful, so funny, I can't not like you. But you don't need to say anything about it, because I believe you. I believe it's hard to admit it, and I just want you to not feel you owe me any sort of explanation or anything, because you don't." "I'm a screwed up lady, Sun. I...I gave up my dreams, I have some pretty severe mental health issues and I'm involved in some things I probably shouldn't be, but...I can't ignore a decades worth of feelings, you know? No matter how scared I might be, I just can't ignore the fact that you're here, that you actually like me, that we wound up working together. To ignore that would be like giving the middle finger to destiny." Sun Rai threw her head back, laughing, which made Rachel feel better. "I wanna try it," Rachel said, "If you want to." "Of course," Sun Rai said, taking Rachel's hand and pulling her closer, then touching her face and pushing her lips against Rachel's. Rachel shut her eyes and kissed Sun Rai back, eager to finally, after a decade of fantasizing, taste her. Needless to say, it didn't disappoint. As the kiss ended, Rachel blushed, laughing nervously and looking at her feet. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "I'm just...I'm not very good with romance." "Come have some breakfast," Sun Rai said, leading her to the kitchen. Rachel nodded, following happily. In the midst of all this bullshit, she could use some domesticity for a change. *** Grudin's schedule on Tuesday saw him hit the local bank, then do a stopover from some light campaigning at a college before heading to lunch. They figured lunch would be the best spot. Something so ordinary and mundane would certainly made it seem less sketchy and suspicious that his car would randomly explode. He'd arrived early for lunch at his regular spot, a bar and grill called Rudy's, which meant Wyatt and Calvin were sitting in Wyatt's car across the parking lot, keeping a keen eye on both Grudin in the restaurant and his vehicle. Grudin always took a window seat, and Calvin had even made a map of the interior of the restaurant, marking which seat was his. Wyatt shoveled chips from the bag into his mouth, wiping the dust on his pants and sighing. He glanced over at Calvin, who was making some kind of notes, and he adjusted his seat so he could lean back a bit, opening up the sunroof so he could feel the sun on his face as he relaxed. He knew he had to be alert, but he figured he could take a moment for a breather. "At least he gets a full meal," Wyatt said. "Alright, ya know what, you don't get any of my snacks anymore," Calvin said, "besides, he ordered nothing but a patty melt and a shrimp cocktail." "Good last meal, actually," Wyatt said, picking at his teeth. Calvin smirked and went back to looking through his binoculars. Wyatt readjusted his chair and sat back upright, holding the remote detonator in his hand and looking it over. He glanced from the remote to Calvin and raised an eyebrow. "How did you learn to do all this?" Wyatt asked. "Took shop class in high school," Calvin said, "that got me interested in building things, but I kind of fell off the interest once I got married and had a kid. Once Grudin killed my wife and child, I just knew I wanted him to suffer in a way as painful as they did, and blowing him up seemed like the easiest way, funny as that may sound. If we have remote detonator, how are they going to pin that on Oliver? I mean, wouldn't he have to be alive to detonate it?" "Well, maybe he had an accomplice and after he died the accomplice still carried out the plan," Wyatt said, "in memory of his partner in crime." "Mmm. Just seems like there's a lot of gaps in this situation," Calvin said, "but whatever." "Grudin's a politician, and not a very well liked one at that despite doing well in the polls. I'm willing to bet that his family would prefer to have him buried and move on without much investigation," Wyatt said, "I mean, politicians make a ton of enemies. Is it really worth the effort to track down all the possible suspects?" "You may be right." Grudin paid his check, stood up and pulled his jacket on, then picked up his doggy bag of leftovers and headed for the door. Calvin snapped his fingers repeatedly and pointed to Grudin on the move. Wyatt sat upright now, clenching the remote in his hand, sweaty as sweaty could be. "He's heading to his car," Calvin said. "I don't think I can do it," Wyatt suddenly said, making Calvin look at him. "What?!" "I...I don't know," Wyatt said, "I feel...sick." "This was your fucking idea!" "I know, but...but I can't kill someone, I was...I was talking out my ass, and I..." Calvin snatched the remote from Wyatt and snarled at him. "I'll do it my fucking self then," he said angrily, but Wyatt fought for the control back, the two men now wrestling in the car. Grudin exited the restaurant and got into his car. He put his doggy bag on the passenger side seat, and then he attempted to start the car. Wyatt felt the control in his hand, and he instinctively clicked the button. It was all over so fast. The explosion was immediate, and afterwards, both men sat there in utter shock. They waited, afraid to drive away as that would look suspicious, so instead they slid down in their seats, hoping nobody would see them. Unfortunately for them, they'd be there for a few hours, hearing the sirens get closer, and the people chatter. *** Leslie Grudin was standing in her kitchen, preparing her daughter's late afternoon snack, the both of them singing along to the music on the radio. Their daughter, Michelle, was homeschooled thanks to a learning disability, and Leslie was happy to have her daughter around. The house got so lonely when Robert wasn't around, and she appreciated the company. As Leslie set down the plate of apple slices and cheese on the table, she stroked her daughters hair. "There you go sweetheart," she said, "What are you drawing?" "A picture for daddy," she said. "I'm sure he'll love it," Leslie said, kissing the top of her daughters head and going back to the sink to wash her hands when she noticed the cop car pull up in front of the house. She continued smiling, thinking that was just where they were parking to visit someone else, never once considering that they were, in fact, there for her, to deliver the worst news of her life. It wasn't until the knock at the door that a knot formed in Leslie's stomach. She went to answer it, and there the cop stood on the porch. "Can I help you?" she asked politely, her voice wavering nervously. "Ma'am, I-" the cop started, until he noticed Michelle sitting at the table, "why don't you step outside?" Leslie did as she was told, shutting the door behind her. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice now stern, but still scared sounding. "It's your husband," the cop told her, "there's been an...incident." Whatever he said after that, Leslie didn't hear. All she knew was that Robert was never coming home, and that that picture their daughter had spent the afternoon drawing for him would never be seen. She listened to what the cop told her - an explosion of some kind, the car blown to bits - but she didn't really take any of it in. All she felt, after the initial coldness, was a growing rage. Oh sure, she'd expect the cops to try and figure out what happened, but she instinctively knew it was a vendetta of some kind, and she vowed to herself then and there that she'd rectify the situation. No matter what it took. *** "Robert Grudin is out of the race for election," the news anchor said solemnly, "after his vehicle exploded abruptly this evening, and the hopeful potential elect was killed inside it. Police have their suspects, but no arrests have been made thusfar. The main suspect is also deceased. Still, the community mourns a man who could've been great for them, had one angry individual not taken him away from us. This is-" The TV clicked off. Calvin leaned back against the couch, exhaling, as he rolled his head and looked over at Rachel who was seated on the couch alongside him. Rachel looked at Calvin, bit her lip and shook her head, then leaned forward and buried her face in her hands, running them up through her hair. "...I can't believe this," she whispered, "I can't believe it happened. It all just seems so surreal." "That mother fucker," Calvin muttered. "What?" Rachel asked, turning and looking back at him. "That was my goal, my decision, and he took it away from me. I was supposed to do it for my family, and he took my vengeance out of my hands," Calvin said, "mother fucker. I never liked him." "Why?" Wyatt asked, stepping back into the living room, beer in hand, Celia right behind him; he sipped the beer then asked again, "inform me why you never liked me." "Because you always had to be the center of attention!" Calvin said sternly, standing up now, almost face to face with Wyatt, adding, "and now look what you've done! Nobody asked you to do this for me! Nobody asked you to...to take away what was rightfully mine to do! He destroyed my family!" "Calvin, I just saved you from a lifetime of prison, alright? Trust me, you would've been one of the first people they looked at. That situation was highly publicized, and you two were closely entwined. They would've come for you almost instantly. What I did was divert that attention to someone else, and give us a bit of breathing room to figure out what our next move is." Wyatt sighed, wiped his mouth on his jacket sleeve then sat down on a nearby ottoman, Celia seating herself beside him. "Now," Wyatt said, "...let's figure out a way to make sure this never comes back to us." "They've already pegged Brighton as their main suspect, you heard them," Rachel said, "I mean...what else could we do to alleviate ourselves of any wrong doing?" "We just need to get our stories straight, so everything lines up," Wyatt said, turning to Celia, "and if nothing else, we have a lawyer to back us up." "An environmental lawyer, you idiot," Calvin said coldly. "So...what do we do now?" Rachel asked. "We make sure none of us deviate from the story, and we stay in close contact. If anyone comes asking anything, we deny everything. None of us were ever anywhere near Grudin, except Calvin from the accident, but otherwise we know nothing and had nothing to do with it. Until that day comes, and if that day comes, we go on with our lives, just like normal." "Just like normal," Rachel said, echoing Wyatt softly, "right." Whatever normal was, though, Rachel didn't know. After the group split and went their respective ways, Calvin too left his house and drove to the cemetery. He picked up some flowers on the way, and when he arrived he walked through the mostly empty graveyard until he found his wife and daughters graves. He sat down between the two headstones and laid the flowers - splitting them in half - one each grave. Calvin looked up at the sky and thought about what had happened that day, and the last few days in fact. He'd done the right thing, sure. Robert Grudin was dead. But that vengeance didn't bring his family back. Was that why he felt empty? Who knew. But he took the victory for what it was. Meanwhile, Wyatt picked Mona up from her afterschool group and drove home. He found Scarlett making dinner when they got home, and the family all ate together as if nothing was wrong. As if Wyatt hadn't just blown a man up earlier that afternoon. Scarlett smiled at him like nothing was wrong, because, to her, nothing was wrong. She knew nothing about what he'd been a part of, and if he did his job, she never would. That night, after she'd fallen asleep, Wyatt sat in bed and watched the news coverage which seemed to take over every channel. All he saw were pictures of Grudin's car, in some state of burning at all times, and of course Grudin himself. He listened to people talk about their colleague, their friend, the hopeful electorate, but Wyatt didn't feel bad. Until he saw the family photo. They put the family photo of Grudin with his wife and their daughter on the television, and Wyatt honed in on the announcers voice. "Grudin, of course, leaves behind his wife, Leslie, and daughter Michelle. Michelle, seven years old, is homeschooled due to a learning disorder, and was reportedly confused when her father didn't come home that night. Leslie Grudin has struggled with how to break the news to her. Our hearts go out to this poor little girl, and this family, left in tatters." Wyatt muted the television. Grudin's daughter was just like his. He felt like he needed to vomit. He stood up, went to the bathroom and washed his face, looking at himself in the mirror, before he went to Mona's bedroom and watched her sleep. He sat on the side of her bed and gently stroked her hair. Wyatt suddenly felt like the worst person in the whole world. How could he have done this? Rachel, however, felt the best she had in years. She and Sun Rai went out that evening to see a movie and get dinner and do some browsing at a local bookshop. Holding hands most of the night, it was the thing Rachel had always dreamed of. She never once thought about Robert Grudin, and she didn't even considering what she'd been involved in. All that mattered to Rachel right then was this moment, with Sun Rai. At one point, when Sun Rai was looking at a book of ancient architecture from various cultures, Rachel - a bit down the aisle from her - casually looked over and admired her, smiling to herself. And Celia...well, Celia went home that night, and let her son sleep in her bed while they watched movies and ate ice cream. She tried not to think about what had happened, about what she'd gotten involved in, but when she saw the same news report Wyatt had, after her son had fallen asleep, she too couldn't help but feel sick. She tried to ignore it, drinking half a bottle of wine, but it didn't do much besides slightly calm her nerves and help her eventually fall asleep. Things would be strange for a while, she thought as she began to drift off to sleep, but eventually everyone would move on, and nobody would remember the incident. Robert Grudin would be buried, and the past would be the past. Besides, as the news even put it, the main suspect was already dead considering it was being pinned on Oliver Brighton, and who would look into a dead man? Celia put her arm around her son, pulling him close to her and breathing his smell in. She smiled, and fell asleep. *** A phone rang. It rang again, and this time a hand reached over to the bedside table, until it wrapped its fingers around the phone and lifted the receiver to the face in the bed, half asleep. "Hello?" the man answered groggily. "Brighton is dead," a voice said, "I don't know if you've heard." "What? When did-" "The other day, killed himself and his family. He's being blamed for a local politicians death as well," the voice said, "which means they'll likely begin investigating Brighton closely, which means they could find his connection to us. We need to do something, or the business runs the risk of being exposed." The man sat up in bed and rubbed his forehead. "Alright, I'll get on a plane and head back," he said, "I'll see what I can find before the cops do. If Brighton's smart, he put all the product somewhere safe, somewhere not easily traceable. I'll call you when I get there." The man, Leonard Wattson, hung up and sighed. He then got up from the bed, got dressed and started packing a few suitcases. He then walked back into the bedroom from his walk in closet and shook his head. Production would have to stop for a while, but the girls deserved a break. They'd been working hard lately, and he could see they were tired. He then headed down the hall, towards the front door. He'd buy his ticket in cash when he arrived at the airport. As he passed the photos hanging on the wall, he stopped and looked at one, shaking his head again. The photo was of the history class he'd once taught, and sitting near him in the front of the photo was Oliver Brighton. His best supplier was dead, and he would find out who did this and why. He'd worked hard for years to hone Brighton's abilities, and now it was all gone in the blink of an eye. Someone had pushed Brighton to do what he'd done, this much he was certain of, and when he found out who, and why, there would be hell to pay. He wasn't about to let not just his best supplier but also his entire empire come crashing down simply because of the murder of a local politician. He'd free Oliver of these claims, find out who had connected him to Grudin's death, and make right of the whole thing, the whole time believing he was truly doing good when in fact he was just as bad as Brighton himself. He was just protecting his assets, illegal as they may be. As he slammed his front door shut, the photos on the wall swayed, and the class photo fell to the floor, the glass cracking upon impact.
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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