“Brandon!” I yelled. Not one of those casual, friendly type of yells, but in the frantic teenage-slasher-film type of way.
He looked around trying to figure out who called him. I ran toward him and waved one arm in the air. To passersby, I must have looked like a lunatic. My purse kept slipping off my shoulder, and I struggled to hold onto it. When I finally reached him, I was out of breath. As I clutched my side, trying to breathe normally again, I realized, to my horror, that I hadn’t come up with a speech yet. There was panic running through me as I realized I had no idea what to say.
“Brandon, this is, I have, you know, quiet place, awkward, in common.” Everything combined together, and he stared at me like he wasn’t sure if I was on an acid trip or not.
“Do I know you?”
His words were slow and sounded confusing to me. My heart was beating so loud it muffled the sounds around me.
Just do it! Do it quick before he leaves. Like a bandage — rip it off. I pulled the plastic bag containing the letter out of my purse. “I think this is yours.”
He had one eyebrow raised as he took the baggie from me. When he realized what it was, I watched his facial expression change in an instant — from eyebrows scrunched together in confusion one moment to red-faced anger the next.
“What is this?”
When he spoke a chill ran down my spine. His eyes were blank, and his stance threatened me.
“It’s from… it belongs to—”
He cut me off. “Where did you get this? Who are you? Is this some kind of sick joke?”
I focused on a few kids passing by that were now starting to stare.
“Answer me!” He sounded like a confrontational father.
Unable to look at him, I focused on the ground below me. “It’s not a joke.” My voice was quivering. “I saw you at the grave the other day, and I saw the little boy with the balloon.” I wished I’d been able to stop my hands from shaking.
“So you’re spying on me or something? Why do you have this?” He shook the letter close to my face, and I felt the heat form behind my eyes just before the tears escaped them.
“I wasn’t spying. I just. My name’s Marissa McDonald.” Why are you telling him your name? Are you crazy? “And I was running by the cemetery. I saw you all, and then I was running back and I saw, I saw…” I was choking on the words. My face was covered in tears, and I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking.
He stepped towards me. “Listen, I don’t know who you think you are.” His jaw was clenched tight. “And I don’t know how you got this, but I’m going to find out who put you up to this.” With that he was gone, walking away from me toward his truck.
Run after him! Do something! Don’t just stand here like a blubbering idiot. “Wait Brandon, please, just one second.” He stopped. His back faced me, and his hand was on the handle to the truck’s door.
“Talk fast.” His tone was flat, and he kept his back to me.
Here’s your chance. Don’t blow it. “I was running by the cemetery. It’s one of my routes, my running routes, and my shoelace came untied, and I bent down to tie it, and that’s when I saw the three of you. I saw the little boy with the balloon, and that balloon reminded me of another balloon, but you don’t care about that, so anyway I kept running, and on my way back I saw that balloon caught in a tree near the edge of the cemetery. I don’t know why, maybe I do, but again you don’t care about that.” It was like word vomit. I couldn’t stop it. There was no way to control how fast the words were coming out, and I was barely pausing between them. His shoulders seem to relax.
“So when I saw the balloon was stuck, I climbed the tree and got it down and found the envelope and I checked the grave to see the name of who it was for and I told my best friend and she kind of told her boyfriend and he knew you, so I just wanted to get it back to you because I know it’s important, I mean the letter is important so…”
He turned to me now. His eyes were glassy, and I watched him take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What’s your name again?” he asked.
My name? What’s my name? “Me? Oh, I’m Marissa McDonald. I’m a junior.”
A beat later he took a step toward me and seemed to study my face for what felt like a long time.
“Marissa,” he said, letting out a long, heavy sigh.
I started to feel like I had eaten some bad eggs. My legs were slightly trembling as I watched him rub his hands on his forehead. His gaze looked toward the sky as if the answers might be there. Or maybe he was looking to Bobby. After giving me one last quizzical look, he got in his truck and left.
It usually stings for a bit after you take a bandage off.
Chapter Five
“You just caught him off guard, that’s all,” Zoe said. She stood near me drinking an oversized grape slushie while I folded T-shirts with a clipboard.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” I added another perfectly folded, hot pink shirt to the pile I was working on. Working at Denim was the only way I could afford to pay for car insurance and gas. The job itself was
