Dim Sum Mysteries - 7. Chapter 7 - Heads Up

Chapter 7 – Heads Up

Saturday, the Hill household, 06:49

I woke up suddenly in the morning – I don’t even know why – but I realized that Michael was not in bed anymore. Groggily blinking out the drowsiness out of my eyes, I wondered why he was up so early. And I needed to pee real badly.

On my way to the bathroom, I heard the tell-tale sounds of faint splashes coming from outside the house. He must be swimming, I should have known. After I relieved myself and washed my face I made my way to the pool. Sure enough, there he was, doing lazy breast strokes with his head above the water.

I sat down cross-legged at the edge of the pool. When he noticed me, he quickly swam over to my side.

“Morning,” I muttered. I still sounded half-asleep; my voice was all raspy.

“Good morning, buddy,” he replied, smiling widely. He raised his eyebrows and looked at the top of my head. “Bed hair.”

“I usually don’t get up this early,” I told him, trying desperately to comb my hair with my fingers. “I mean, on weekends I usually just sleep the morning away.”

“Had breakfast yet?”

“No.”

“Then let’s go make some then.”

It was a wonderful morning, to be honest. It was one of those mornings when you wake up before you really want to, so you’re still feeling a bit drowsy and light-headed, and the sun wasn’t really up properly, and the sky’s a beautiful, deep shade of light blue. It was quiet and the sound of boiling water and a few birds chirping in the distance made the perfect ambient atmosphere.

Michael had gotten changed into gym shorts and he was shirtless. I didn’t mind though. I liked the view.

I chugged down a glass of water as I put some toast on a plate. Michael was drinking some coffee and I appreciated the smell. There was just something about the smell of coffee on early mornings.

He leaned on the counter, looking at me with this curious, sly stare from behind that coffee cup. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I practically snatched away that coffee cup, put it next to him on the counter and then began kissing him for all I was worth. He was definitely surprised, but he got into the moment pretty quickly. His body felt so warm, like I could just sink into his embrace forever. When I began running my fingers through his still wet hair, making odd spikes here and there, he made this little moan at the back of his throat that had me going crazy. I reached down with my hand and made my way down and … yup, he was definitely reacting.

When we broke the kiss, we both gasped for air. Michael gave me this look of something I couldn’t describe as something other than pure carnality.

“God, Ryan,” he breathed. “I hope it’s not too much to ask for you to fuck me.”

And here I thought on my first time, it’d be the other way around with Michael. But I wasn’t thinking straight (no pun intended) and my sexual organ had a mind of its own.

Saturday, Michael’s bedroom, 7:07

Michael was well stocked. Condom: check. Lube: check. But …

“Ow! Ryan!”

“What?”

“I-I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I!”

“Well, don’t just cram it in! I’m gonna be fuckin’ sore after this –”

“Sorry, but you’re the one who asked for it!”

“Ow, fuck!”

“Why don’t you just stay still and stop squirming, then?”

“How can I, when you’re practically tearing me a new hole and I don’t mean that in a good way – oh shit! Ryan, that hurts!”

Monday, Mac Worthington High School, 10:33

Nicole knew something was up. It was like she had this all-new sixth sense or something, but I guess it was an acquired skill. Damn it, how did she know? Was it the way I walked or something?

“Oh. My. God,” she said breathlessly. “You guys did it. You guys actually did it.”

“Nicole, please shut up,” I said, burying my face in my locker, trying to hide from everyone else.

“So how was it?” Nicole asked. “Were you the one who gave presents, or did you receive them?”

I slammed my locker door shut. “Nicole, seriously that’s really private stuff. Leave me alone, will you?”

She put her hands on her hips and pouted at me. “Ugh. You’re no fun – and here I was about to tell you that handcuffs are pretty satisfying,” she said and promptly stomped away.

I was about to head off to English class when I saw someone coming towards me. She stood out against the crowd – dark, gloomy Victoria. She was still carrying Cynthia with her. She looked like her usual self, nothing out of the ordinary, although I wondered whether she could ever be described as ordinary.

“Michael told me about the text message,” Victoria said as she pulled me to the side, away from everyone else. “Have you found out who the ‘sword’ is referring to?”

“I have no idea,” I told her truthfully.

“I may have an idea who it could be,” she said. Her arms alarmed me. “Just do word association. You can do that, right? You’re a writer.”

I frowned at her in confusion. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Michael and I assumed you were the one who the ‘pen’ referred to,” Victoria said hastily. Her eyes began darting to and fro, as if she was afraid someone was watching us. “So, all I did was associate a sword to one of us. Think, Ryan! Who here has any association with swords?”

“I don’t know!” I said. “Our school doesn’t have a fencing club.”

“You’re thinking too superficially,” Victoria said. She looked annoyed. “Come on, what’s similar to a sword?”

“Uh, I don’t know … maybe a machete? Katanas? Blades?”

“Blades,” Victoria suddenly said aloud. “Blades … knives.”

Knives? I suddenly knew where this was going. If there was anyone in Mac Worthington that we could associate knives with, it would be …

“Emma?” My voice was quiet. I whispered the name in disbelief.

Victoria nodded gravely. “The Head Chef of the Culinary Club could be the Gunner’s next target.”

My thoughts began reeling in my head. There was no way anyone could even think of harming such a nice, wonderful person like Emma. In my mind, I couldn’t even think of her being murdered. I wouldn’t be surprised if the murderer decided not to pull the trigger if they had met her in person.

Monday, Mac Worthington High School, 11:48

“So, Victoria just sent me a text,” Michael said as I exited the English classroom.

“Still doesn’t seem real, huh?” I remarked.

“Do you think we should tell her?”

I shook my head. “No way. We don’t even know with absolute certainty if Emma’s really the one,” I said, trying to sound realistic. “She’d freak out if we told her that. Or, she’d chop us into tiny pieces. Maybe both.”

Michael walked ahead of me and turned around, stopping me. He looked thoughtful. “Ryan, I know this isn’t the right time, but we haven’t talked about … that time,” he said, a bit shyly.

“Oh,” was all I could say.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m in this relationship only for the sex,” he said, then grinned and added, “Not that I wouldn’t mind it of course.”

“Well, I guess I’m not into just the sex either,” I told him. It was true! “Just so you know, I really do like you.”

“Okay then,” he said. He straightened up and gave me a warm smile. “Thanks, buddy. I just had to talk about it for a while. Let’s go have lunch.”

“Why did you ask me to stay over?”

“Because I wanted to keep an eye on you. Remember the message?”

“Uh, yeah, but you could have stayed at my place. Maybe you wanted to show off your house, you rich bastard.”

“No! That’s not true. I just … wanted you to meet my dad.”

When we got to the cafeteria, we spotted Victoria sitting alone, as usual, but she was staring at us. I guess we both kind of knew that she wanted to talk to us, so we got our lunch as quickly as we could. She didn’t appear to be particularly distressed, but I could sense that she had something to say.

Michael and I sat opposite of her. A few people stared at us – Victoria normally sat alone and everyone knew to stay clear of her when she was alone. Some say that she could lay a hex on you just by looking at you.

“I confronted Yuki about the text message she received,” Victoria announced. “She said she received it on Friday last week.”

“Oh, and is that piece of information particularly important?” I asked.

“Yes. If my predictions are correct,” Victoria said, looking around cautiously, “I think the Gunner will strike again sometime this week.”

“You think Emma could really be the next target?” Michael asked faintly. I guess he didn’t really like the idea that someone could even think of hurting her.

Victoria procured Cynthia from her bag and put the doll in front of her on the table. “Cynthia has contacted the spirits. Emma is the most likely victim and based on our logic, we’ve concluded that as well, haven’t we?”

I put my head in my hands. This was beginning to spiral way out of control. I was a little lost that moment – in my head, I both wanted nothing to do with this, yet at the same time I felt a little determined to stop the murderer.

“If this gets out of hand, we’ll have to tell the Sheriff about the text messages sooner or later,” Michael commented. “Don’t argue, Victoria – we won’t be able to handle this on our own.”

Victoria brought her hands down on the table defiantly. “But we need to avoid that. The murderer, whoever he or she is, could have a contact in the police force. That’s why the three of us have to work harder.”

“There’s only so much three people can do,” I said sadly. “But … I’ll go ahead with you on this one, Victoria.”

“You sure?” Michael asked me.

“Yeah. And if things do get out of hand, then I’ll be the first one to let Sheriff Elise know.”

The look on Michael’s face told me there was still some uncertainty, but he nodded quite firmly. “Okay. Then I’ll help.”

“It’s good to know I can count on you guys,” Victoria said. “I’m going to keep tabs on Emma’s location at all times. I need you to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere alone this week.”

Wednesday, Mac Worthington High School, 13:05

Michael and I caught up to Emma on her way to whatever class she had that period. She was carrying a big, thick textbook titled Pure Mathematics.

“Hi Emma,” I said.

“Oh, hi guys,” she replied. She seemed so normal. But then again, I guess she had no idea she could be a possible victim of the next homicide.

“Where are you going?” Michael asked.

Emma looked at Michael strangely. “Um … I’m on the way to the library. I’ve got some free study time.”

“Great, then we’ll come along with you,” I stated.

“You guys do know that Mrs. Fisher won’t let us talk much there, right?” Emma said, with a small laugh.

Michael shrugged and grinned at her. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll help you study.”

“You sure you want to help out with some advanced calculus?”

“We could learn quickly,” I added.

Emma giggled and shrugged. “Okay, fine.”

I knew we shouldn’t have accompanied Emma around the school. It was ridiculous to think that the murderer would have the audacity to just walk inside the building with a gun. But I knew how close we had been from not saving Sharon that night two weeks ago – it was important, at least I thought it was important, to always keep Emma within our range of sight.

We sat together in awkward silence at a table in the corner of the library. While Emma began opening up her notebooks, Michael and I simply sat there and did nothing for a while. Eventually, Emma began to notice our slight discomfort.

“You guys don’t have to be here, you know,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, we’re fine with it,” I said quickly. “We just wanted to make sure you’re not alone. We’re your friends, after all.”

“Oh? We’re friends now?” Emma snickered. “A month ago, you two barely talked to me – you two barely talked to each other. Anyway, it’s nice to know you guys are my friends.”

“Right,” Michael added.

“Talking about the two of you guys,” she said slowly, pushing aside her textbook, “I want to know what’s going on between the two of you.”

I gulped. I bet Nicole told her. “I bet Nicole told you.”

“She didn’t really have to, you know,” Emma sighed. “I could tell … sort of. I just had my own suspicions ever since that dinner at the Jade Phoenix. The attraction between you was like, instant.”

“Oh,” I said stupidly. I looked at Michael. His expression was impassive.

“You don’t have to be so uncomfortable with me knowing,” Emma said. She was smiling now. That was a good sign, right?

“Well, I guess I’m not ready to announce it to the rest of the school,” I confided.

Emma shook her head. “Um, you don’t have to do that. Although, I still think that you shouldn’t hide it either.”

Michael shifted in his seat. He looked at me and smiled. “I guess what’s done is done.”

“Just don’t go around outing me just yet,” I told Emma.

“Of course I won’t. Guys, there’s nothing wrong with being gay,” Emma said, her voice low so that no one else could hear. “I don’t believe in outing people just like that, but I don’t believe in denying who you are.”

“Thanks, Emma. That means a lot to me,” Michael said. “I’m sure it means a lot to Ryan as well.”

I nodded. Of course it meant a lot to me! If there was anyone I could trust with this little ‘secret’ of mine, besides Anna, Michael and Yuki, it would be Emma.

Thursday, the Jade Phoenix, 18:27

“Have you told your parents about us?” Michael asked me as we ate dinner at the Jaded Phoenix.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied, shaking my head. “Not yet. I’m not quite ready for that.”

“And what about us, anyway,” Michael said, pausing to gulp down some iced tea. “Are we going steady now?”

I thought about it for a while. I could feel the gravity of his question, the seriousness of it. Did I really want to be with him, in a fully committed relationship? I guess, wehad had sex together already, even though that time had been messy and sloppy and silly. But I wasn’t out to my parents yet. Should I do this?

Michael had stopped eating and was looking at me with his hopeful green eyes. I didn’t want to let him down, and a big piece of me wanted to say yes. So I did. That’s what I said.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? I’m not forcing you into it, or anything. I can wait until you’ve sorted things out with your parents,” Michael said. I thought it was thoughtful of him to say that. “You are planning to come out someday, right?”

I nodded. “Definitely! I mean, I don’t have qualms about who I am, but it’s difficult …”

“I know, I know,” Michael cut in. “When I told my dad that time, I totally freaked out. I was like, was he going to throw me out? I always wondered what he thought of me.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re already out to your dad and he’s fine with it,” I said. I hadn’t meant to sound so cranky. “My parents … I’m not so sure they’ll be as accepting. Maybe my mother will be somewhat fine with it, but my dad’s the real problem.”

“Okay,” Michael said. He sounded calm. Why was he so patient with me? “I’ll wait until you’re ready then. But I like you, Ryan. I really like you a lot.”

“I like you too, Mike,” I answered him, trying to sound apologetic. Then I asked him the same question I had asked in my head. “Why are you so patient with me? You could just fine someone else way hotter than I am and dump me.”

Michael sat back and gave me his lopsided grin. How I loved how white his teeth were.

“Because I think you’re worth waiting for, Ryan.”

Friday, Mac Worthington High School, 15:14

I was in a dilemma. Anna had gone with her friends to the nearby shopping mall and had called me to pick her up later at five. Unfortunately, I had an after-school meeting with the Writer’s Club to discuss our writing mentor program that we had set up to improve our writing skills.

So I sent a quick text to Michael, asking him to pick her up instead. “Sure” was his reply. Then I called Anna and hastily told her of the change of plans. Anita was poking at me with a pencil. She was an African-American student a year younger than me, and she had astounding writing skills. If anyone could replace me as leader of the club, it’d be her.

“Ryan, do we really need to write about dim sum for the school’s newsletter?” she asked me.

Every week, Mac Worthington released a newsletter. The Writers of the Round Table had the honor of submitting two or three short stories every week, and every week we switched the theme of the stories around. I had decided on dim sum as our theme for next week’s newsletter. Seriously, with all the events happening about the Gunner in town, I had suffered from major writer’s block. Don’t judge me!

“There are a lot of things you can write about dim sum,” I explained half-heartedly. I actually thought it was a terrible theme as well.

Anita nodded, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. “Okay, Ryan. We’ll try something.”

“Well, you could try writing a poem this time,” I suggested weakly.

“How about writing about how chicken feet can boost sexual prowess,” Ben threw in, sitting in his usual spot at the corner of the room.

I wasn’t really myself at that moment. “You could try that.”

Anita’s jaw dropped. “Ryan, are you feeling all right?”

“I don’t know okay!” I said, waving my arms desperately. “I’m getting a major block in creativity here. Why don’t you guys think of something then?”

Friday, somewhere on the streets, 16:17

A car had broken down as it crossed the middle of the road ahead, practically blocking access to my usual route back home. There were horns blaring all around and I suddenly got a huge headache. Then my phone rang.

Victoria had two phone numbers. One was her usual contact number – the other one was for emergencies. The latter rang, and I recognized it since I had set a different ringtone to it.

“What is it?”

“Where are you, Ryan?” Victoria asked. I could barely hear her voice – there were screams and shrieks coming from what sounded like a bunch of little kids.

“I’m on the road,” I replied. “Stuck in traffic, though. Something wrong?”

“Something wrong?!” Victoria almost screeched. “You haven’t realized at all? Emma is with her Culinary Club back at school.”

I sat up straighter. “Wait, what? I didn’t notice them there!”

“They’re just preparing for some fund-raising charity event,” Victoria explained, “But you need to get back there. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You have a bad feeling about everything,” I remarked.

“I’m serious, Ryan!”

“Well, why don’t you go there yourself then?”

Victoria didn’t reply instantly. There was a loud thud. “As you can hear, I’m having a handful babysitting my little brother and his friends. They’re – oh my God, Victor don’t you dare touch mom’s vase –”

There was a loud shout of triumph and then something shattered into a million pieces in the background. I sat there, listening in shocked silence.

“Ryan, I am going to lay a jinx on my brother now. I’ve told Michael to head to school too after he’s dropped off your sister.”

“Okay, I’ll turn around,” I said, sighing. I wasn’t going anywhere while that car was still blocking the road, so I guess it was better than staying there. I hung up and turned the car around.

Friday, Mac Worthington High School, 16:25

As I drove into the school’s parking lot and saw the three police cars already parked there, I knew something had gone wrong. My heart began to beat a little faster and my hands were shaking for some undefined reason. Come on, Ryan, steady.

I got out of my car and I felt the breath leave my body. An ambulance drove by and stopped at the front door. I didn’t even know how I got the energy to walk forward – I just did, like I had absolutely no control over my own body.

I spotted two girls at the side, hugging each other and crying. They looked they had been scared witless. I recognized them as Emma’s friends, the ones she usually hung out with during lunch times whenever she wasn’t sitting with either me or Michael.

I was surprised to find Artie there. He was standing alone at the front steps to the school, looking down at the ground with a forlorn look on his face. Two police officers passing by him inside the building didn’t even seem to faze him.

All this time, I had thought Artie was just a plain bully with no feelings for anyone at all. But then he noticed me walking up to him and he looked at me with this look that was filled with grief. I didn’t know how I knew it was grief, but it was one of those things you could tell just by one, quick glance.

“Artie?” I asked, my voice scarcely a whisper. “Artie … what happened?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sheriff Elise in the distance by her car notice me. But I didn’t care about her at that moment. All I cared about was what Artie said next.

“It’s Emma.”

“What about Emma, Artie? Damn it, Artie, answer me!”

I saw Artie’s fists clench and unclench in slow motions, like he was holding back something from exploding inside of him. He still didn’t even look at me.

“She’s dead, Ryan. Emma’s dead.”