Prom Queen - Part 2

Ryan made a right turn onto West Farmington Road, a road where there were not a lot of houses, just thick wooded areas. Except for maybe the half-million dollar, newly built homes on Taryn Lea Court. There was the Accokeek Animal Hospital there had been there for years. The animal hospital looked like an old run-down house to me. We took our dog, Buddy, there when I was a little girl. And behind the animal hospital was WSSC’s Piscataway Wastewater Treatment Plant. Which sat on Piscataway Creek. Other than that, except for a few houses here and there, there wasn’t much on that part of West Farmington. I didn’t scare easy, but that area of Accokeek, Maryland frightened me.

After we drove by the water plant, we made the very first right turn on John Clagett Drive. And it was pretty much the same; A long road with lots of scary wooded areas and a few old as Moses’ houses. What made it more frightening, there were no street lights. It was the perfect place to commit a murder and bury the body.

Ryan pulled up to this old house, turning down the long driveway. This driveway led us past the house and into the huge backyard.

The small tan house was old-fashioned and needed some work. The yard looked like a meadow, and it had a few cherry trees around it. Ryan said a group of bank robbers used the place as a hide-out before the police found them and blew their asses away.

He parked in front of the detached two-car garage. He said he was leaving the keys in the car so that we wouldn’t lose them while burying Amanda. I thought that was a brilliant idea.

He grabbed her from the trunk, along with my father’s shovel, and flipped her over on his shoulder. I followed him as he carried Amanda out into the woods at the end of the yard. I went into my purse and grabbed my black gloves to help him. I hated walking through those woods. Even worse, I was wearing flip-flops. Stumbling over tree branches and almost tripping up and falling.

As Ryan dug Amanda’s grave, she was lying on the ground next to it, eyes wide open, staring up at the stars. I kneeled down and closed those eyes of hers; it was creeping me out more than it already crept me out. Then I remembered. Her glasses. Where the hell were they? I was so busy trying to get away with murder I forgot about her glasses. I knew I had to find those focals and get rid of them before someone else found them.

And I had my gloves on. I made sure I wasn’t leaving my fingerprints anywhere. Nothing to link me to Amanda’s murder. I was even leery of any DNA me and Ryan would leave behind. Like strands of my hair. And what in the world were we going to do with her car? So much was going through my mind. I was going crazy.

Ryan dug the hole like it was nothing, like a true gravedigger. He was rushing because he wanted to hurry and get back so he could spend some time with me and, like I promised him. He was digging so fast and so hard he dug a big enough hole for two or three people. I got a little suspicious. Was he changing his mind about us getting back together and planning on murdering me to bury me with Amanda? I kept looking around, and getting familiar with my surroundings, just in case I had to make a run for it.

He finally stopped digging to take a break, and he looked up at me, out of breath. “You know... I’ve been eyeing this tux for months.”

I looked at him. I wanted to frown. “Eyeing a tux?”

“Yeah.”

“Eyeing a tux for what?”

Ryan stopped for a minute and looked at me funny. “For the prom, girl.”

“For the prom?” I was actually trying to act like I didn’t know what he was talking about. I knew. I was in denial. I couldn’t see myself going to the prom with anybody else but David Clark. I was going to be prom queen to his prom king.

“Yeah, the prom,” Ryan said, continuing to dig. “I’ve been planning prom night for months.”

I frowned, finding that strange. “Planning it with who?” Ryan peeped up at me and had the nerve to wink at me. “Ryan, we broke up last summer.”

“Yeah, and.”

“Okay, so, how could you be planning some prom night for us when we broke up last summer?”

He avoided my question. “I’m renting us a room at the Gaylord Hotel,” he said.

I couldn’t help but stare at him, disgusted. “Renting a room for what? For us to spend some time together?”

“It’s gonna be nice, Cindy.”

“So, if we hadn’t gotten back together tonight, then... what girl would you be taking to the prom? Does she go to our school?”

Ryan stopped and looked at me, and he had a sneaky grin on his face. “Yeah, she goes to our school.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to tell me who the girl was. “Who? Who is she?”

He was about to bust his gut to keep from laughing. “Cindy. Cindy Wayne.”

I rolled my eyes. He laughed and continued digging. It seemed like he was making fun of me. He was pissing me off, on top of blackmailing me.

“I was just thinking,” I said, suspicious. “Where did you come from?”

“What’cha mean? Where did you come from?”

“I mean... you just walked up to me from out of nowhere.”

“Oh. You mean when I walked up to you after you killed Amanda?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I know you wished I never caught you in the act of murder, Cindy. I headed your way after you hung up on me. I was pissed.”

“You headed over to my house after I hung up on you?”

“Yep.”

“Why? Why would you do that when I told you I didn’t want to be bothered?”

“I told you. Because I was pissed.”

“But I meant what I said. I didn’t want to be bothered, Ryan.”

“Actually, I was coming over to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?”

“For being a pain in the ass, as my father calls it.”

I nodded, looking around. “Well, that would have been an apology I would have accepted. Because you are a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, well. You better start gettin’ use to this pain in the ass. I’m not goin’ nowhere no time soon.” Then he stopped digging and thought to himself for a minute. He looked confused. “I just noticed somethin’. Why’re you wearing gloves?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t want to leave any fingerprints.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, continuing to dig. “How’re you gonna leave any fingerprints when I’m the one doing all the work here?”

“I didn’t want to leave any fingerprints in Amanda’s car when I drive it up outta here and ditch it somewhere.”

Ryan stopped digging again, and he really looked confused this time. It was almost funny when he looked up at me. The poor fool was so busy digging he didn’t see me slip into my purse and pull my dad’s pistol out. When I told him I needed to go back into the house because I forgot my phone, that wasn’t the only thing I forgot.

My dad showed me how to use his gun a long time ago when he first got it. Just in case we had any unwanted visitors, and I got to the gun first. My father wanted to teach my mother how to use it too, but she was too afraid to learn.

I raised the gun slowly and pointed it at Ryan. I thought his eyes were going to blow up out of his head; scared as hell.

He said, “Cindy, what the fuck you think you’re doin’?”

“Well, you just said you weren’t going anywhere. And that’s a fucking lie because you are. You are going somewhere. You’re going into the ground with Amanda.”

Ryan looked up at me, wondering if I was serious. He just didn’t know. “Girl, stop playin’. Don’t point that gun at me.”

“But see, I have to point it at you. How else can I shoot you if I don’t point it at you?”

“Cindy, stop playin’. We need to bury her so we can roll.”

“When I roll outta here, I’m rolling out of here without you, Ryan.”

Now Ryan was looking at me like I lost it. “What the fuck is your problem? Stop playin’!”

“When I said I wasn’t letting anybody stand in the way of me and David being together, I meant that shit. So, I guess you fucked up. Because you didn’t take me seriously. Yeah, I’m going to the prom alright. But it won’t be with you.”

He stabbed the shovel into the ground. “Cindy put the fuckin’ gun down.”

“And that Gaylord Hotel room you got for us after the prom? Well... I am going to do that too. I will get a room there. But again... it won’t be with you.”

Ryan leaped up and latched his fingers into the dirt to crawl out of his and Amanda’s grave. Kicking... crawling... and sliding. It did him no good. I popped his ass twice in the chest. He fell back, landing flat on his back.

Gasping for air, he said, “Cindy, what the... what the fuck? I was tryin’ to help you out! Why?”

I sat the gun down beside Amanda, kneeling down to make sure my beautiful face was the last thing Ryan was ever going to see. “You know why, you asshole. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Amanda’s on the way down there to keep you company.”

Ryan was trying too hard to raise up, but he couldn’t move. He yelled, “Help!”

I shoved and shoved Amanda until she rolled over into the grave and on top of her new best friend. Ryan was trying to yell for help between coughing up blood. I reached down into the grave and grabbed the shovel by the handle, pulling it out. Every time Ryan opened his mouth to yell and cry for help, I shoveled and dumped dirt into it. After a minute of swallowing dirt, he couldn’t talk. He couldn’t do anything. But lay there and cry like a bitch, while I buried him alive with Amanda weighing down on top of him. He was going to die anyway from the gunshot wounds, so I figured it was no reason to pop his ass again. The dirt was probably going to smother and kill him before the gunshot wounds did.

Once I covered their grave with the dirt, I patted it with the shovel, figuring it would pack it down. I had no experience in burying people, of course, but I wanted to make sure they weren’t ever getting out of there.

I put the gun back in my purse, grabbed the shovel, and sprinted back to the car. Ryan’s brilliant idea to leave the keys in the car was perfect for me. I just jumped in it, started it up, and headed back down that dark road that took me back to West Farmington. I remembered Ryan making a right turn to get in there, in that dark, spooky neighborhood. So all I had to do was make a left on Farmington and that would take me to Indian Head Highway. Once I got to Indian Head Highway, I knew exactly how to get back home. And I needed to hurry up. Because, not only did I have to ditch Amanda’s car somewhere, I had to get my father’s gun back into that safe. Before he and my mother figured out, it was missing.

* * * *

As soon as I woke up, I was scratching like a dog with severe fleas. Something in those damn woods. It pissed me off when I looked in the mirror and saw those tiny red bumps, from the heel of my feet on up. And scratching them didn’t do me any good.

My mother gazed me in the face as soon as I sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. She was nosy like that. She would stare you straight in the face until she got answers. She had a florid complexion with curly sprinkled gray hair. And I definitely didn’t get her height. She was tall and narrow, with round brown eyes.

My father looked at me with his big brown eyes and went right back to chopping down on his bacon. He was brown skin with wavy hair. And he was of average height with muscles. He was always down in his man cave working out when he wasn’t overdosing on sports and Coronas.

When I glanced over at my little brother Xavier, I could tell by the way he was looking at me he was about to say something stupid, getting on my nerves. “Don’t sit near me, scratching like a dog,” he said, frowning and chewing. He was brown skin and had wavy hair like our dad. And he had small brown eyes and was skinny as a strand of hair.

My mother studied the small red bumps all over me and said, “Did something bite you, Cindy?”

“Probably so, yeah,” I said.

I knew my mother was going to tell me what to do to get rid of the bumps. And I was going to take whatever advice she was going to give me, too. Anything it took to get rid of them before school Monday morning. Now that Amanda and Ryan were out of the way, it was time to make my move on David.

I couldn’t get the killing Ryan and Amanda out of my head. It all happened so fast. Especially when those murders I did not plan.

And I must’ve thought Amanda up. Because the Amber alert went off on my phone. Then the male news reporter on TV. He said, “This morning, the Prince George’s County Sheriff’s Office is asking for your help to find a missing teen.” When I looked up and saw Amanda’s graduation photo flash across the TV screen, my stomach sunk, followed by goosebumps. And there I was, her murderer, sitting at the kitchen table, eating eggs, turkey bacon and sausage links. While her photo devoured our TV screen.

And what tripped me out the most? In the photo, Amanda was wearing those same stupid looking glasses I was looking for.

After burying Ryan and Amanda, I jumped in her car and headed back to Fort Washington. And the whole time I was wondering where the hell I was going to ditch her car. I drove so carefully, doing the speed limit. I didn’t want to give the cops any reason at all to pull me over. So when I got back into the neighborhood, I figured I’d ditch the car near my house. So I wouldn’t have far to walk.

I parked Amanda’s car near a half-built house on Washington Drive, around the corner from my house. Like my neighborhood, this neighborhood was young and had very few houses. Before I got out, with my gloves still on, I wiped the interior of the car down to make sure there were no fingerprints. Not even Amanda’s.

When I finished, I grabbed my purse and walked like a speeding bullet, hurrying into the house to get my dad’s gun back. And I was so glad I beat them home. It gave me some time to look for Amanda’s glasses. After I put the still warm gun back into the safe, I heard the garage door opening. Damn, they’re home!

So now I had to hope they went straight to their room, instead of the family room, to watch TV. And, to my luck, they dragged themselves out of the garage and straight upstairs to their room. And as fast as a superhero, I was out of those dirty, bloody clothes and into my nightgown.

I checked on them before they went to bed and they said they had a good time down at the National Harbor. After talking to them for a minute, I pretended I was going downstairs for some snacks. So when I got to the family room, I looked everywhere for those glasses; under the couch, under the loveseat. Under the ottoman. I even looked in the fireplace, to make sure the glasses didn’t fall in there when I popped Amanda in the face.

Nothing. Those glasses were nowhere to be found.

Seeing Amanda’s photo on TV grabbed my mother’s attention. My father and brother paid it no mine, gulping down food.

The lady news reporter said, “18-year-old Amanda Moss was last seen around eleven o’clock last night. She is 5’6 and 118 pounds and a senior at Friendly High School.”

The remote control was lying on the table beside my mother’s arm. She always kept the remote near her so she could hog the TV away from all of us. My family, not knowing that Amanda’s killer was sitting at the table with them, made me a nervous wreck. I reached and grabbed the remote, about to turn the channel.

My mother looked at me like she was about to stab my hand with a fork. “Wait a minute, Cindy! I’m watching that!”

My mother picked up the controller and turned the TV up. They put a mock photo of Amanda’s car on the screen, along with the license plate number. I started sweating, wondering how soon they were going to find her car around the corner from us. And praying no one saw me driving it.

“Cindy, you need to pay attention to this,” my mother said.

I looked at her. “Why?”

She looked at me, disappointed. “She goes to your school, Cindy —”

“Oh, I don’t know her,” I said, trying to eat my breakfast and scratch at the same time.

“Okay, you may not know her, but I’m sure you’ve seen her around school a couple of times.”

Staring down at my plate, mouth full of food, I said, “Maybe, I don’t know.” I changed the subject before anything else jumped from her mouth about me knowing Amanda. “So, mom, what should I take?”

My mother looked at me, and she didn’t appreciate me changing the subject. “Take what? What’re you talking about?”

I frowned and looked at her like she was crazy. “These bumps.”

“Oh, um... it looks like poison oak,” mom said.

“Yeah,” I said, “I thought it might be poison ivy or something like that.”

Chewing his food, my dad said, “What woods were you in to get that? And what’re doin’ in the woods, anyway?”

“Me and Kathy were at Fort Washington Park yesterday hanging out.” Dad nodded, and I turned my attention back to my mother. “So, what should I take now?”

“Get a cucumber and a banana peel and rub yourself down with it.” Xavier had the nerve to frown. “And take a couple of teaspoons of Apple Cider Vinegar.” That made me frown. “And a couple of teaspoons of baking soda, too.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding and ready to get up from the table to get right to it.

Mom shook her head and went back to eating her breakfast. “You seem like you don’t even care about your missing classmate.”

My mother aggravated me with all the shit about Amanda being missing. “It’s not like I don’t care. I don’t really know her like that.”

“That girl is probably still out partying with’er friends,” dad said.

Xavier laughed to himself, thinking it was funny. But my mother didn’t find it funny at all. “You never know, somebody probably carjacked that girl. It could’ve been Cindy — it could’ve been you, Cindy.”

I stood up, scratching. “Let me get started. Where’s this, um... apple what?”

“Apple Cider Vinegar,” mom said, “it’s in the cabinet near the season salt.”

Heading for the cabinet, I heard a buzzing sound. I stopped, looking around. My parents looked at me, wondering what was wrong.

“What?” my mother said.

I said, “You hear that?”

“Hear what?”

It buzzed and flew right past my ear. That big black bee was back. This time, instead of Kathy’s house and my car, it was now in my house. I swatted at it anyway, like I was losing my damn mind. “Y’all see that?”

“It looks like a bee,” dad said.

“It is a bee,” Xavier said.

Now I’m pissed and ready to go the fuck off. “Then y’all need to get up and kill it,” I screamed. “Y’all know I’m allergic to bees. C’mon now!”

The big black bee buzzed around near the ceiling, and then sped toward the patio, trying to get back outside. But the patio door was closed.

“Somebody kill it,” I said.

“Girl, calm down,” Xavier said. “I’ll get it.”

Xavier got up and walked over to the patio. Kathy’s friend buzzed, bounced, and tapped against the window, trying to get out. Probably trying to fly back to her house where I met his bee cousin at. My brother opened the patio door for him to fly out when usually he would have been glad to smack him to the floor and stomp his bee brains out.

“No,” I shouted. “Don’t let him out, Xavier, kill it.”

He said, “Girl, shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, kill it.”

The bee buzzed against the window of the patio door until he found his way back outside.

I said, “Why didn’t you kill it?”

“I ain’t feel like it,” my brother said, walking back to the table. “I’m eatin’. I ain’t got time to be killin’ bees.”

I said, “Okay, so what if he comes back in here?”

Xavier said, “That’s between you and him, not me. He’s after you. Not me.”

“Mom,” I said, “we need to do something about this. How did it get in here?”

My mom said, “Cindy, I don’t know how the bee got in here-”

“Daddy,” I said. “Do you know?”

Dad sat back in his chair, chewing and thinking. He shook his head. “I haven’t seen any bee nest anywhere around here. I’ll check the outside of the house when I’m finished eating.”

I stepped over to the patio doors. I looked out and around our backyard for any bees flying around. Didn’t see any at first. Then, suddenly, something smacked up against the patio door. It was that same big black bee, and he kept smacking up against the window at me. Like he was trying to break through the glass to get to me, to sting me. It even made me jump back a little, scaring me. I said, “Ma. You need to call the exterminator. Quick. Now.”

* * * *

I was sitting on my bed rubbing my whole body down with cotton balls soaked with alcohol when my mother called me. She kind of scared me because I could tell by the tone of her voice it was something serious. And I had this strange feeling it had something to do with either Ryan or Amanda.

As I rushed out of my room, I heard Mrs. Roscoe saying, “He hasn’t come home at all. And he’s not answering his cell phone or anything.”

I stopped at the bottom step and my mother and Ryan’s parents looked up at me right away, looking for answers.

“Where is our son?” Mrs. Roscoe asked me. She had an irritated look on her face. She didn’t care for me much. And I didn’t care for her much either. Ryan used to tell me she hated my attitude, accused me of acting like I was better than her son. And I was. Well, that’s the way I saw it, anyway. She was a tall, thin woman with red, mid-length hair and a ghostly white complexion. She was a plain Jane dresser, always wearing tunic-dress-shirts and light blue sneakers.

I shrugged and said, “I haven’t seen Ryan.”

Mrs. Roscoe looked at me, with her small brown eyes, and said, “You haven’t seen Ryan at all?”

I shook my head, and I frowned, wrinkling my forehead so I’d look concerned. I had to become an actress. I had to play the role of the concerned ex-girlfriend.

“When was the last time you talked to’im, Cindy?” my mother asked me.

I stepped off the last step, pretending to give it some thought. “The other night, as a matter of fact.”

Mr. Roscoe said, “When? What night was it?” Mr. Roscoe was a short, muscular man with a chestnut complexion and short, graying hair. He had sleepy eyes, like he was nodding off or drunk after drinking a case of beer. He was always wearing jeans and a Dallas Cowboys jersey. That’s if he wasn’t still wearing his electrician uniform once he got home from work.

I shrugged slightly and said, “Thursday night, maybe.”

“How did he seem?” Mrs. Roscoe asked me.

I stared at Mrs. Roscoe for a second. I peppered this thing to make it a little more interesting. I said, “He mentioned something about being depressed lately.”

My mother said, “Depressed?”

I nodded.

Mrs. Roscoe gave me one of her condescending frowns. Then a heavy sigh, like I was getting on her nerves. “Depressed about what, Cindy? What did he say?”

I gave Mrs. Roscoe a look that was so icy she could have slipped, fell and busted her ass from it. “Something about being depressed about us not being together,” I said, staring into her face. “He kept saying he needed to get away for a while.” I wanted to make it seem like it was a possibility Ryan ran away.

Mrs. Roscoe gave me a look that almost made me bust out laughing. A look that was saying bitch ... please. “And that’s why we can’t find my son? Because he’s so in love with you he can’t get over the fact that y’all are never getting back together?” Then she rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and started pacing.

“Have y’all talked with any of his friends?” my mother asked.

“One of ‘em,” Mr. Roscoe said. “His best friend Wally.”

“And what did he say?” my mother asked.

Still pacing, Mrs. Roscoe looked at my mother. “He said Ryan told him he was coming over here to talk to Cindy about getting back together. This was last night.”

Mom turned and looked at me for answers. I shrugged. “He didn’t come over here,” I said. “I haven’t seen Ryan.”

My mother said, “When Ryan said he was feeling depressed lately, did he say anything about getting help for it?”

I shook my head.

“I could tell he’s had a lot on his mind lately,” Mr. Roscoe said. “I can tell when something’s bothering my son.”

Mrs. Roscoe stopped pacing and faced me. If my mother wasn’t there, she might’ve taken a swing at me. “So, what did you say to him?”

I looked at Mrs. Roscoe. “What do you mean?”

“What did you say to him? How did you tell him that the two of you weren’t getting back together?”

“Um... I just told him I was concentrating on graduating and getting into college right now. I just don’t have time for a relationship right now. We agreed to be friends for right now.” Mrs. Roscoe gave a quick nod, but I could tell she knew I was lying. “I also told him we could see where we were at in our relationship once we were done with college. So... it wasn’t a nasty conversation, you know. It was... it was cool. We even talked about going to the prom together.”

“And he said he needed to get away for a while?” my mother asked. “He said that?”

“Yes,” I said. “He kept saying he... he just needed to get away for a minute.”

Mrs. Roscoe was so upset her voice was sounding scratchy. “Did he say where he wanted to get away to, Cindy?” I shook my head, staring into her eyes. She didn’t like that. “So the two of you weren’t arguing about anything—right?”

“No, there was no arguing. Like I said, we had a decent conversation.”

“So, I want to be clear about this, Cindy,” my mother said, and I could hear it in her voice. She was getting frustrated with Mrs. Roscoe. Implying, I said something to hurt Ryan’s feelings. “You wasn’t mean or anything like that to Ryan, right?”

“No. Ryan and I haven’t had an argument since last winter when we broke up.”

Mr. Roscoe looked at me. Like his wife, he was now suspicious of me as well. “Wally said Ryan had been upset a lot lately, Cindy. Wally said Ryan told him that your reason for breaking up with him did, in fact, hurt his feelings.”

“Yes, Ryan was upset when we broke up. But the conversation we had the other night... there was no arguing, no screaming, no nothing. Just a normal conversation.”

“Wally also said you were trying to take some girl’s boyfriend away from her,” Mr. Roscoe said. Mrs. Roscoe nodded, giving me this witchy glare. My mother, puzzled, was wondering what Mr. Roscoe was talking about. “That you were trying to go to the prom with him instead of Ryan.”

“What boy is this, Cindy?” my mother asked me.

I was getting pissed. Because asshole Wally was telling Ryan’s parents my motive for killing him, and Amanda. I said, “He’s talking about this boy named David Clark, and that’s not true, by the way. I’m not trying to steal David from his girlfriend. David and I are just friends.”

Mrs. Roscoe glared at me, ready to let it all out, rather my mother was standing there or not. “Cindy, why were you being so mean to him?”

“Mrs. Roscoe, I wasn’t being mean to Ryan-”

“Well, it’s obvious you were saying mean things to him,” Mrs. Roscoe said. And she had the nerve to act like she was about to cry. Like I hurt her feelings or something.

I said, “I was never mean to him. He argued with me all the time. It was mutual. I got mad at him sometimes, he got mad at me sometimes. Of course, we had our disagreements. And yeah, there were times we said some mean things to each other during our arguments. But to accuse me of being mean to him because I don’t want to be in a relationship is...”

My mother was getting fed up with them blaming me. But she remained as nice about it as she could be. She said, “Well, if Cindy isn’t ready for a serious relationship right now, then... I don’t think that’s being mean to Ryan.”

“And I can’t see why Wally would lie either,” Mrs. Roscoe said, opening the door to leave. She stopped, looked back at me and said, “I can’t see any reason why Wally would lie.”

“Well, there’s no reason why Cindy should lie either, Brenda,” my mother said, taking up for me.

“I need to find my child,” Mrs. Roscoe said, storming off to their gigantic black Cadillac SUV.

Mr. Roscoe was apologetic when he looked at my mother. He said, “We’ll call y’all if we get any news.” And then left out, quietly closing the door behind him.

My mother sighed and turned to face me. “Now, you’re sure you didn’t say anything to upset Ryan.”

I gave my mother a sad, sappy look that she wouldn’t even buy for a penny. “Moms, I didn’t say anything to upset Ryan. I didn’t do anything to him.”

* * * *

When I got to school Monday, I couldn’t wait to see everybody’s reaction to Ryan and Amanda’s disappearing act. Everything seemed normal to me. Students were rushing off school buses to get to their lockers and their first class. School security and teachers barking at us to stop playing around and talking and get to class.

However, the only thing that seemed out of place to me was the news reporters and news vans out front of the school. Just like Michelle Martin, when they found her murdered at Fort Washington Park. They scattered news reporters all over our school parking lot. The news reporters asked a few students how did they feel about our missing students, Amanda Moss and Ryan Roscoe. Puzzled, a lot of the students thought it was strange that both students came up missing at the same time.

When I got inside the school, the first thing I did was look around for David. I was feeling good and looking good — of course. I worked hard the whole weekend to get rid of the poison ivy so that I wouldn’t frighten him away. As usual, at that time of the morning, you could hear lockers opening and closing. And a lot of us standing around talking before the bell rung.

I saw Kathy at her locker, talking to one of David’s best friends, Lamar Breton.

“Hey, Kathy, what’s up?” I said, walking up to them.

“Hey,” Kathy said, her voice soft and drifting. Kathy was acting like she was sad about Amanda and Ryan both being missing. Or maybe she was just having a quiet, private conversation with Lamar, who I found out later she had a crush on. And was talking about going to the prom with him.

When I asked them where David was, Kathy shrugged, and Lamar just shook his head. And I could tell by the sad look on his face, something was wrong. Lamar was a tall, beefy kid with a cute, pudgy face and small, green eyes. Like his boy David, he always wore his all-state letterman jacket, baggy jeans, and gigantic Timberland boots.

I said, “Y’all haven’t seen’im?”

“He ain’t even come to school today,” Lamar said, a slight shrug.

I frowned. That wasn’t like my future boyfriend. “Why?”

Both Kathy and Lamar looked at me as if I bumped my head against the door frame walking into the school.

Kathy sort of smiled. But it was one of those irritated smiles, and it came with a puzzled frown. “You heard about Amanda. Right? And Ryan. They’re both missing. It’s all over the news.”

I didn’t want to come off too cold and heartless. I gave them this expression, like I was holding back tears. I nodded. “Yeah, I heard. I’m trying not to think about it.”

“It’s impossible not to,” Lamar said.

I said, “How’s David doing? Not so good, I guess.”

“Nah, he’s not doin’ good at all. That’s why he stayed home today. Plus, the police been drillin’ him with questions, askin’ him where Amanda is and all that.”

That was all I needed to hear.

I left school early that day and went over to David’s house to console him.

When I pulled up to his house that late morning, two old looking police detectives were leaving in a dark blue squad car. And David was sitting on the front steps of his house, looking like he lost his best friend. Which, in a lot of ways, he did. And I was glad I made sure of that.

When I walked up to him, he still had his head down. I said his name, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. When I looked into his beautiful eyes, my actual instinct to take him and make him mine came into play. And it was time to make my move.

Sometimes you gotta lie to get what you want.

“David, I heard,” I said, sounding sad.

David said nothing. He dropped his head between his legs again.

“Was that the police?” I asked him. He nodded without raising his head. “Oh, my God, David, what did you do, baby?”

David looked up at me like he was about to beg for his life. “Cindy, I swear to God I didn’t do anything to Amanda. That’s my girl, I love her.”

And I could see it in his face. In his eyes. He loved Amanda. And the look on his face alone was about to break my heart. “Baby, I know you loved her,” I said. “But it’s nothing you can do about it now. You just have to let the police handle it now.”

After a moment, David looked up at me, giving me a funny look. “Loved. What do you mean, loved? I still love Amanda.”

I had to be careful of what I was saying. “Oh, baby, of course you do.”

David stood up, throwing his hands in the air. And his voice was squeaky and desperate. “I just don’t understand. How do you just disappear like that?”

“You sure she didn’t run off with another man? An older man. A lot of girls my age do things like that.”

He thought about it and shook his head. “I just can’t see Amanda doing that.”

I moved closer, facing him. “Why?”

He looked at me, tears in his eyes, serious. “Because she loves me too much.”

“So what’re the police saying?”

“They keep pressing me, asking me if me and Amanda were havin’ problems.”

“Problems? What, as in pressing you to see if you had something to do with her disappearance?”

“Yeah. Asking me did we have a fight and all that.”

“For real? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Like I had somethin’ to do with it.” He started pacing back and forth, scared. “Her parents keep pressing me out.”

“What’re they saying?”

“Her mother said Amanda was upset about something when she left the house.”

My heart started thumping hard. I got scared, and I tried my best to hide it. “Well... what did... what did she say before she left her house? Did her mother say?”

“She said nothing, she just left out of the house mad. She didn’t even say where she was going.”

David went into the house, leaving his door open for me to follow him, and of course, I did. The house looked small to me from the outside. But inside it was large and roomy, with a 3-piece, cream-colored couch set, and wooden floors. The walls shouted an olive color, decorated with a wallpaper border with wall lamps and a ceiling light.

“It’s not like Amanda,” David said, opening the basement door and stomping down the stairs. I followed him down into the basement, which was basically his father’s man cave, with a pool table and about three flat-screen TVs hanging here and there.

“It’s not like Amanda to what?” I said, following him over to the small refrigerator behind the bar.

David grabbed one of the many beers stacked in the fridge. “It’s not like Amanda to go somewhere without letting me or her parents know where she’s goin’.”

David opened the beer and started gulping it down. The sound of the beer rushing down his throat sounded like he was swallowing golf balls.

“I didn’t know you drink,” I said.

It took a second for David to finish swallowing. He nodded and sat the beer on the bar. “Yeah, I just started. I got so much shit on my mind right now. I’m going crazy.”

“And you’re sure she didn’t run away with someone? You got a lot of girls running away these days in the DMV area. You sure she didn’t meet some other guy online or something and... and ran away with’im?”

David thought about it as he chugged down the rest of the beer. Afterward, he shook his head, tossed the can in the trash, and grabbed another beer. “Like I told you before,” he said, opening the beer, “it’s not like Amanda to do somethin’ like that.”

I was used to seeing David happy and smiling all the time, not the sad drunk that he was at the moment. But what else could I expect? He had every reason to be in a crashed up mood. Especially with him not knowing that Amanda was already dead and buried.

“Where’re your parents?” I asked him.

David slammed his hand down on the bar so hard I thought he was going to chop it in half, Judo style.

“Cindy,” David said, walking over and sitting down on the couch, “I don’t think I can make it without Amanda. I can’t. I gotta find’er. I gotta find my girl.”

He stared straight ahead, through the walls, in a daze, looking suicidal. He got drunk quick, like most first time drinkers. He was right where I wanted him, right where I needed him to be. He was vulnerable. He was mine.

He dropped his head and balled his fists. “Swear to God... somebody did somethin’ to my baby... I’ma kill’em. Swear to God, I’ma kill’em.”

Like a mouse cornered by a snake, I had him. I cuddled up under him, laying my head on his shoulder. “David... just let the police handle this. Okay? Because I’m not letting you do anything stupid to get yourself in trouble.”

I wrapped my arm around his six-pack. Then I slid my hand down between his legs. Poor thing. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t resist me, even though he was ready to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger. The head above his neck might have been thinking and worrying about Amanda. But the head below his waist had a mind of its own, and I could feel it growing like a tree under my hand. The urge to seduce him pumped through my veins.

He frowned, wrinkling his forehead. He turned and looked at me, baffled, to the point where I almost laughed. He said, “Cindy... what’re you... what’re you doing?”

I could hear a breath of lust escape from his mouth. Something he tried desperately to control, but couldn’t. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

He tried to get up. But he was so lightheaded from the beers, it was easy for me to grab him by the back of his t-shirt, and pull him back down onto the couch. I climbed into his lap and straddled him, wrapping my arms around him.

He grabbed me by the waist like he was about to lift me up off of him. “Cindy—”

“Shhh. I’m giving you some time and attention right now. Exactly what you need. You just need to be held right now.”

“I need to be out trying to find Amanda right now,” he said, and I could feel his body weakening under me. I pushed his head back against the couch, softly rubbing his forehead with my thumb. He closed his eyes, finally surrendering.

“That’s right, just relax,” I whispered, moving my lips from his cheek to his neck. “I want you to relax and let me take care of you.”

I could feel the heat between us. He was mine, all mine. I finally got him. And it was nothing he could do about it.

* * * *

My heart was pounding, beating to the tune of love.

It poured down raining as we finished making love. Both of us were 18, so I felt like an adult woman in bed with my husband. I could tell David was sobering up. And the more he sobered up, the more he looked like he regretted letting me into his house.

We were in the guest room in the basement. And David’s mother decorated the room like a five-star hotel room, with a queen-size bed and the 40 inch TV. It was in the heat of the passion; we didn’t have time to get upstairs to his bedroom. He was ready for me right then and there.

After it was all over, we laid in bed, no cuddling. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. Me lying up against him, my head resting on his chest. And we said nothing, quiet as a graveyard. He was feeling guilty, I could tell. Even though Amanda was dead as Julius Caesar, he still felt he was doing her wrong.

I was so in love, but yet I felt sick to my stomach. Something didn’t seem right. I finally had David, but I could tell it was nothing that was going to take his mind off Amanda.

I wanted him to say something to me; I wanted him to hold me, to at least kiss me. “That was nice,” I said, kissing his chest.

He still said nothing.

I c on top of David, staring down into his guilt written face, as he stared through me at the ceiling. I placed my hand under his chin and turned his head to face me, and I tongue kissed him. Then, out of nowhere, he stopped, turning his head back to staring up at the ceiling. I sat up, resting on my forearm, staring at him and wondering what the hell his problem was.

“What’s wrong, David?” I asked him. “Talk to me.” David looked like he wanted to jump off a bridge. I said, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

He reached over me and grabbed the remote from the bedside table, and turned the TV on. I snatched the remote from him and turned it back off.

“Talk to me,” I said.

Staring at the TV, he said, “I was trying to see if there was anything on the news about Amanda.” He looked like he was about to cry, shaking his head. “It wasn’t right.”

“What wasn’t right? Talk to me!”

“We shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have done this to Amanda.”

I looked at David, offended. “This has nothing to do with Amanda. This was bound to happen.”

“But it’s still not fair to her,” David said, sitting at the side of the bed with his back turned to me. “That’s why I don’t drink. If I was sober I... I’m sure I would’ve never done this.”

I looked at him. He hurt my feelings. I said, “What about me? What about my feelings and what’s fair to me?”

“Cindy, if we’re seen together, it’s not gonna look good. Especially for me.”

I sat up. “What do you mean, if we’re seen together?”

“Here it is. My girlfriend is missing, and I’m already being seen with another girl. That just doesn’t look right.”

“Okay, we can keep things... private... personal, if you want. As long as I can have you, I don’t care. But I love you, David. And I want the entire world to know it. I want everybody to know you’re my man, and I’m your woman.”

“What if Amanda walked in here right now?”

I looked at him like he was crazy. “What, your parents gave Amanda her own fucking key to get in?”

“You just never know. You know?”

“It’s too late to turn back now. We’ve already started it. I got you now, and I’m not letting you go.”

Then I heard the buzzing sound. A buzzing sound that was all too familiar to me. I turned my head to the left and right so fast you could hear bones cracking.

David looked back at me, wondering what was going on. “What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s a bee in here,” I said, sitting up and spotting the big black bee flying around near David’s closet. It looked like the same big black bee I first saw flying around in Kathy’s bedroom. Probably the same bee that Xavier let out of the house that Saturday morning when I told his ass not to. Now I’m sitting there on David’s bed, watching this bee buzz around. Wondering if these bees were — for some reason — following me.

“Oh shit,” David said, rushing up from the bed.

The way he was moving around, I thought he was going to stumble, trip, fall, and break his neck. I had already murdered his girlfriend. I didn’t need his parents coming home and finding me standing over his body. Naked, with him lying there with his head on backwards.

“You need to Kill it,” I said, hiding under the covers. “I’m allergic to bees. I get stung… I’ll die.” I stayed under the covers, scared out of my mind, peeping out at David. And I wasn’t coming out until he got that thing.

“Yeah, I gotta get’im before my mother gets home,” David said, grabbing an old magazine from his dresser. “She’s allergic to ‘em too.”

“You get’im, yet?” I asked, still peeping out from under the covers.

“No, not yet,” he said, following the bee around the bedroom.

He was taking too damn long to kill that bee. So I jumped off the bed, wrapping the sheet around me.

The bee was flying around so fast it bumped into me, hitting me in the chest. I screamed and swiped at it and ran for the door, stubbing my toe against the bed frame. I was in so much pain; I hopped out of the room on one leg and over to the couch, where I collapsed, fighting back tears.

“Cindy, stop running from it,” David said. “It’s not going to sting you unless you bother him. When you smack at them, that’s when they turn defensive.”

I heard a loud noise; it sounded like a magazine slapping against a wall. Seconds later, David came out of the guest room and sat down on the couch at my feet.

“I got the bee. You’re good,” David said. “What, you hit your foot?” All I could do was nod my head. He sighed and started rubbing my foot, finally showing me some affection. “I grabbed your clothes,” he said, handing me my school uniform he grabbed from off the floor.

I said, “Okay, so now you’re throwing me out with a broken foot.”

David got up and went behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge this time. “Girl, your foot is not broken. Plus, my parents are on their way on from work. It might not be a good idea that you’re here when they get home.”

“You made love to me like you love me,” I said, trying to smile through my hurt feelings. “Now you’re trying to take the love back?”

“Cindy, you gotta understand. I was drunk.”

I sat up on the couch as he sat down beside me. I clutched his hand and held it as he sipped on the water. He didn’t even hold my hand back. Matter of fact, his hand was lifeless as I held it. So I let his hand go and got dressed.

“You have any brothers and sisters?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Two sisters. Twins. They’re away at college.” He shifted his body to face me. “Cindy, I gotta admit somethin’.”

I turned and faced him. “Admit what?”

He dropped his head, shamed. Then he forced himself to look me in the eye. “There have been times I... actually thought about you.” I looked at him, and I held back, blushing. But that was exactly what I wanted to hear. “I mean, how can I not? You’re the prettiest girl in school. And... there were times I... I thought about you. What it was like to... to actually be with you.”

“And you are with me right now. And we made love, and it was beautiful. Wasn’t it?” He couldn’t help but nod his head. “Wasn’t it?”

He looked at me. “Yeah. It was... nice.”

“So why are you running from me, then?”

“Because I love Amanda, Cindy,” he said, getting up from the couch. He walked over to the basement door and looked out at the backyard. “I love Amanda. Yeah, you’re gorgeous, the prettiest girl in school. But... Amanda... that’s my girl. And I just had sex with you. And I was wrong about that. Because... while we were havin’ sex... I should’ve been out looking for my girl.”

I got up and walked up behind him. “Well, I’m your girl now. And like I said. I got you now. It’s too late to stand there on some fucking guilt trip. I got you now, David. And I’m not letting you go.”

With his back to me, he shook his head. I didn’t give a damn about him shaking his head. I meant what I said. But I knew I was going to have to come up with something that was going to make him trade Amanda’s heart for mine.

The end of Part Two