Mr. Whithers was still there a few days after he interviewed me. He'd randomly show up at the school. Interrogating some other student I guess.

He hadn't just asked me questions, he interrogated me. Treated me like some hardened criminal! At least there wasn't a light shining in my eyes like those old movies.

I cried the whole time, of course. I was scared. I'd never been this close to a murder before (Especially of my BEST FRIEND!), or this stressful a situation.  I was having a hard time coping without Bree. My hands were shaking, and I knew that Whithers took that as a sign of guilt or fear. He misread me completely.  He is obviously used to these kinds of things, and I assume that he's shut out his feelings concerning them, else he'd go crazy over the foulness I'm sure that he sees everyday.

I was shaking afterward, and I tried to go back to class like nothing  happened, but halfway through  I practically ran from the room, the tears all ready streaming down my cheeks. I was kind of glad that Mr. Kerr didn't say anything about it. He just watched me go, a pained and concerned look in his eyes. He knew Aubrey and I was close, and how I took it, she was one of his favorite students. Bree practically adored Mr. Kerr, but that may have just been because she loved Chemistry and he shared that same interest, often tutoring her. Also, she might have been so interested because he was good-looking -- for his age, you know. Aubrey had always been interested in guys who were hot. She really didn't care about anything else, unlike me, who would rather have a smart, sweet, but less attractive guy. But her reasoning concerning Mr. Kerr? I don't know.

For the next week, Mr. Kerr practically told me to skip his class. I would spend that hour every day holed up in a stall crying my eyes out over Bree.

I heard the bell ring on one of those days that I was crying, and after wiping my eyes on my sleeve, I emerged from the Girls' Bathroom and joined the throng of teenagers heading to their next class.  Lunch was next for me. I was glad. A little food might help this gnawing pain inside, I thought. But I knew it wouldn't.

I looked up just to see Levi walking in the opposite direction as me, pushing through the crowd. He locked eyes with me and smiled sympathetically. After being pushed aside by a jock, he caught up with me and walked beside me.

"How are you holding up, Gracie?" He asked, pushing his glasses up with his free hand. He was holding a book again. Sherlock Holmes. Seemed like he was always reading.

I shrugged. "I'm still living, so I guess I'm okay..." I sniffled.

He put his arm around me momentarily, squeezing my shoulder.

"It'll all be alright --  eventually. Time heals."

I forced a smile and nodded weakly, appreciative of his comfort. He broke off and headed to his class.

He was a good guy. If only everyone could see that, instead of the Nerd they labeled him as.

But my moment of comfort was ruined. I saw Stacey, walking toward me, texting on her cell phone. I couldn't help but grimace at the sight of her. She bumped into me when I didn't part like the Red Sea like the other students did. She pulled a look at me, and went on, her stupid little miniskirt drawing the eyes of every boy.  Little Miss Princess Grahams pranced over to Brandon, who was shoving something into his locker with a downtrodden look, pressed him up against the blue painted metal doors and french kissed him like the slut she was. I guess this was her customary greeting.

I nearly puked.

I tried to push down my pain and disgust, like I assume jaded Whithers does, tried to turn this into something unreal. Something that didn't happen to my life. Something just like a case off one of those CSI shows.

It almost worked for a moment.

The End

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