Vicious Desire by Leslie V. Walker

Chapter Four

Ayanna

“Good morning, class. Today well be finishing draft one for our current art project you all have been working on for the last month. So, everyone please keep your voices down and let’s get those done. You have until the end of class,” Ms. Mills, the art teacher, explains to us as she flings her hands around the room pointing at the already done art hanging on the wall for show.

The classroom is a splattered with art everywhere displaying Ms. Mills personality of positivity and everything magical. It shows in the way her hazel eyes light up every time she talks or even looks at something that intrigues her. She knows just how to wake up a person or how to turn a person’s bad day into a good one.

A yawn leaves me as I look down to my finished draft one project. Inspired by Stephen King’s novels, there is a stack of books in front of the woods on a foggy night with a knife on the ground and blood everywhere.

It’s weird to think of it as something personal or close to my personality but something but the scary and dangerous aspects in life have always fascinated me.

“Finished?” Jason asks as he blows on his design to dry the paint.

After heading back to my car on Friday night and finally getting reception I received a voicemail from Jason saying he couldn’t make it because he was handling family business. Not even an explanation on said family business. I ignored him the rest of the weekend until he offered me a ride this morning after my car wouldn’t start.

Poor baby is dying.

Better be up and running smoothly because it’s my only transportation. My life depends on it.

I remove my bag from my lap and tilt my body toward him. He flashes me a smile showcasing those dimples of his that pop out even more with his blue shirt.

I nod.

“May I see?”

“You first.”

With a heavy sigh he hands me his design. I cover it as if it’s a kitten needing protecting and instantly smile as I trace my fingertips all over the design. It’s beautiful. The sun’s light beating through the window glows on the art, giving it an extra touch.

“Toy Story? I see you’re still obsessed like the last time.” I smirk handing him the paper back.

“She said to work on something meaningful or what describes your personality. Favorite movie of all time. So, why not?” I agree. For the time I have known Jason, he has made me watch Toy Story more than a hundred times. And just to spite him I made him watch The Notebook, which was quickly shut off in under five minutes because I disliked it just as much.

“I see you’ve outdone yourself.”

“What can I say? I’m a lover of darkness,” I shrug, whispering to not distract anyone, though most of the class have their earbuds in.

“I pray for the guy who marries you. One of those books you read one day might possess you into murdering him.” A laugh leaves my lips as he continues to look over my design. Despite the comment he made Jason gives me an approving smile.

“It’s not good enough though. But I’m trying to perfect it more. My dad says it still needs a lot of work because so far it looks like a four-year-old threw up on it.” I can’t help but allow the self-doubt to creep up on me at the reminder of what my dad said yesterday.

After dinner I always have to present my homework to my parents—specifically my dad—so when I gave him my first draft, he looked at me as if I was an idiot who needed brain surgery. He started to yell at me if I didn’t fix it and try better in drawing then I’ll fail and won’t get handed valedictorian.

It took everything in my power to hold back and not scream at him that I didn’t want to be valedictorian and all I wanted to do was enjoy my senior year before the real world. But instead, I kept quiet and agreed with him.

“She never said it had to be perfect darlin’. Not everything in life must be perfect,” Jason says firmly, his eyes watching me like a hawk. “You did know right?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. We’ve had this conversation thousands of times. “Yes, Jason. I know not everything in life has to be perfect, but I can’t afford a lower grade.”

“She’s not going to give you a bad grade just because you’re not good at drawing.” I nod wanting this conversation to end already.

“So, what you do this weekend?” Jason asks with a grin, knowing he’s annoying me with the question.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

The school day passes by in a blur and before I know it it’s lunch time. I lift my bag over my shoulder as I head out of English 4. I take out my phone and shoot a text to Jason as I make my way to my locker at the far end of the south building.

The school is humongous for a small town. There are so many sections it feels like a maze. You’ll be getting lost in them with no place to go. There’s even this one building all the way in the back near the woods has been shut down for years ever since someone was found dead in a Halloween incident back in the nineties.

Me:On my way. Got held up in class. Still heading for the diner?

Danno’s Diner is a town favorite and where Jason and I go and hang out once in a while when we’re not in the mood to eat the school’s trashy lunch and instead are craving an eighty’s theme with a triple bacon hamburger, fries, and a large vanilla shake.

Jason:I’m already in the car. Hurry up before I leave you, I’m starving.

I reach my locker, opening it to grab my books for my next class for when I return. Just as I go to close my locker an envelope comes flying down onto the floor right in front of my feet.

“What the hell?” I thought out loud.

I reach down and take the red envelope which has a carved hibiscus flower. Summer Storm. I shake my head ignoring the memory rushing back and instead focus my attention solely on what I have in my hands.

It was known since the beginning of freshman year Brendan and his friends would send out an envelope to anyone who would be in debt to them. It was a message on what would be expected of them to complete the full debt.

I thought it ended. Clearly, I was wrong.

And now it was my turn.

I was in debt to them.

But why? I haven’t done anything to be in debt. This has to be a misunderstanding.

I tear open the envelope and pull out the card inside. It’s black and the writing is in white with a snake tail on the corner. The card reads:

Miss Abetha Wilson,

Due to unforeseen circumstances, it has been brought to our attention you have taken something from us which was never yours. Due to your stupidity, you are now in debt to us. We will contact you sometime soon to let you know your task.

Sincerely,

Your worst nightmares

My eyes narrow as I reread the card over and over again. My mind starts playing different scenarios on how to murder Brendan Carter without getting caught.

No harm would come in trying. I’ve read enough Stephen King novels to know how it works. And if push comes to shove, then I can just blame it on the psychotic turn of events his books have given me.

They couldn’t even get my first fucking name correct. Bunch of assholes.

Just when I’m about to throw the card away in the trash can a few feet away and pretend I never got, it my phone starts to ring.

I take the card in my other hand and stare down at the unknown caller. I usually don’t answer unknown calls, but something tells me to answer. So, I do. Second biggest mistake I’ve ever done in my life.

“I see you got the invite.” Brendan’s infuriating voice comes through the phone, and I clutch it tighter not caring if I might break the case.

“How did you get my number?” I demand to know, ignoring his previous comment.

“I have my ways,” is all he says.

I slam my locker shut throwing away the card and then turning to lean against the hallway wall. “Let me guess. You ask a buddy of yours to hack onto to the school system to get to my file?” I raise a brow.

“No. I just asked your boyfriend. What’s his name? Bryan? Nathan?”

A sigh leaves me as I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Jason.”

“Ah! That’s the one.”

“Well Jason won’t be alive long enough to see tomorrow, so why don’t you tell me why the hell you wanted my number.” I am not in the mood to play around. I only have one goal right now and it was to murder my best friend and sell his social security number to make some money from it. It’ll be the least he can do after handing me off to this psychopath.

“I thought miss little perfect had everything figured out. Guess I was wrong.”

He’s trying to enrage me with his new fond nickname. And it’s working. “Can you stop calling me that?”

“But it’s my nickname for you. You would think you’d appreciate my effort.”

“And what effort would that be exactly? The one where you’re irritating me or where you talk shit behind my back over something which wasn’t my fault. Or do I have to remind you who looks like the culprit.”

I don’t have to be in the same room as him to know what I said annoyed him. There’s something about the summer night four years ago always tends to get a bite out of him. I don’t know what fully went down between him and his friends but one thing I do know is what went down between us.

He claimed he didn’t do it. But we never saw eye to eye until that summer night when I saw the worse, he can do. Did I think he was completely lying? Who knows? He told me dark private shit making me question his involvement.

But I didn’t want to second guess anything. No matter how childish it might sound for ignoring everything I wasn’t going to put myself out there to only be right at the end.

Instead of talking back, he moves on getting to the point of the call. “You’ve been called to pay off the debt. The debt being your involvement Friday night. To make sure you don’t talk, its best if you entered the investigation with us. We’ll reach out to you with more details coming soon. In the meantime, keep quiet before you’re stuck six feet under.”

The call ends abruptly, not letting me have a chance to decline the invitation. Even though I know they’ll force me to do whatever they please no matter what it takes, I’m not going to let this happen. If I have to do shit for them, then I’m get something out of it. It’ll be to know why are they on such high alert after what I saw on Friday.

My thoughts overtake me and before I know it the bell rings signaling the ending of lunch. “Shit,” I cursed, putting my phone back on focus and see while I was daydreaming on what I can gain helping Brendan and his friends I got missed calls and texts by Jason forgetting our lunch plans.

Jason:Where are you? Hurry up or I’m leaving your ass.

Jason:Did you fall down a rabbit hole to Wonderland? Move those legs woman.

Jason:Left your ass. My stomach was growling like a fucking lion it scared the shit out of me.

The last message is a photo of him with a stuffed hamburger in his mouth, a coke to the side and two fries sticking out of his nostrils. My nose scrunches but I can’t help the laugh that leaves me. Then I remember I’m mad at him and type a short reply.

Me:Busy. Talk after school.

I have one motive from now on. To find out what the fuck is going on with the guys. It’s strange how I keep prying myself into all of this but after the Friday and the call with Brendan I can’t help but miss how we both use to be. And even though I try to ignore it I can’t help a small part of me acknowledges it.