GREY

The next morning finally felt like a brand new day, an actual fresh start for once in the past week. I couldn't quite say I was excited for English Lit, but I was excited to see my friends—and at last, I could confidently say that included Cody.

The trek from the parking lot to Mrs. Cabot's classroom felt shorter, lighter, the hallway air seeming to breeze with a heartening flow. It was seven forty-eight when I strolled inside and grabbed a seat next to Cody and Brayden, and Jacquarious and Dash appeared from around the corner moments later.

"H-hey, Jacquarious," Cody said just seconds after he'd slid into his chair.

He nodded back, folding open his composition book.

"Dude." I nudged Jacquarious's arm, trying my best not to leave Cody hanging. "Your mom is terrifying, bro. No wonder you were so fearless yesterday. It's in your genes."

"Oh," Jacquarious's eyes darted off. "She's...she gets really passionate sometimes—"

"Bro, the way she chewed out that cop was legendary. I honestly felt bad for him."

"Wait, Officer Longchamp?" Dash asked. "Why'd she chew him out?"

I stroked my chin. "Not sure. Sounded like she was ticked about whatever secret mission Jac went on after he got picked up at the quarry..." I trailed off, gulping hard as all eyes shifted to Jacquarious. Crap!

He lowered his head. "I...I'm not supposed to talk about it, Grey."

"S-sorry," I winced. "Didn't mean to put you on the spot."

"They found another body," Brayden mused. "Didn't they?"

Jacquarious's face hardened. "...How'd you know?"

"It was on the news—well, sort of. There was a report about a bunch of cops at the Goldengate Mall, but the chief didn't want to release any info."

"Whoa," I breathed. "Wait, Jac, were you like...on the scene?"

He shifted away. "Y-yeah..."

Dash shook his head. "Can't believe they dragged you to another crime scene."

"That's...what my mom said too." Jacquarious sighed.

"Maybe they thought you could crack open the case, man," Brayden said.

"Yeah, well, whoever the killer is, it looks like he's finally crossed the tracks." Jacquarious turned to stare into space.

"...The tracks?" Cody asked, uncertainty tremoring through his voice.

Jacquarious nodded. "The guy who died wasn't from Browning Heights this time. He...worked at Benin & Chic."

Dash's eyebrows rose. "The fashion company?"

Jacquarious nodded again. "And there was another message...written in blood."

I shuddered. "Gotta be one sick freak, man—writing a poem in blood next to a...a dead body."

"He's setting a pattern," Jacquarious mused. "First with DeWayne, now with this new guy. He wants people to know who he is...and be terrified of him."

"Well, mission accomplished," Brayden said, shivering.

"It...it can't be just about the killing though, right?" Cody asked, finding his voice for another brief moment. "I mean, what if..." He trailed off, folding both arms across his chest. "Never mind."

Huh? I angled my head toward him. "Come on, man; don't leave us hanging. What were you gonna say? We're just tossing out ideas here anyway."

"It's...stupid."

"Nothing's stupid," Jacquarious said. "You've got a good eye for this kind of thing, Cody—don't shrug it off." His hands folded along his desk.

Cody gulped. "I...was just gonna say it might be sports related. You know, like...maybe the killer's going after athletes...or maybe former athletes?"

"Athletes?" Brayden asked. "But the guy who died yesterday worked at a fashion company."

"A fashion company that's about to do a merger with one of the biggest sporting-goods brands in the country," Jacquarious added. "Even if Tyler Berkin wasn't an athlete, being the secretary for Benin & Chic's CEO has to count for something."

"I don't know, guys," I said. "I mean, if two dead guys and some bloody poetry is the only real link, the whole 'athletes' thing seems like a bit of a stretch."

Jacquarious tapped on his chin. "You're right. I just...there's something there. Something about those couplets feels sort of...familiar."

The clacking of Mrs. Cabot's high-heeled shoes on the classroom floor smacked into the air, a withering frisson that brought us all back to the present—to the start of English Lit and the end, at least for now, of our morning foray into playing detective.

****

Slamming my locker shut in the main school building felt extra sweet, the savory clang echoing above my head as I turned toward the hallway exit and sprinted for the gymnasium.

I stashed my regular clothes and slipped into my jersey, right as Dash and Brayden sauntered in behind me, Cody at their heels. From the other end of the locker room, Jacquarious pressed his way through the double doors on a wave of crisp wintry air.

"Jac!" I called, waving him over. "Dude, we missed you at lunch."

"Oh...sorry." He lowered his head. "I was trying to track down those couplets—I know I've seen them somewhere."

"The ones from the crime scenes?" Brayden asked.

"Well, good luck," I mused. "A few days after we found that DeWayne guy, I tried looking up the first one." I shook my head. "Couldn't find nothing."

"Anything," Dash said from behind me, earning a chuckle from Cody.

"Yeah, well, I haven't fared any better with the second couplet either." Jacquarious sighed.

"Well, hey, let's head up and dribble for a bit," Brayden offered. "Maybe it'll come to you, man—"

"Um, excuse me," came a voice from behind the five of us.

I whirled in an instant, Dash mimicking my turn as the other guys followed suit.

Who's that guy?

Dash quirked a brow. "You lost, buddy?"

The man took a tentative step forward. "I surely hope not. You boys are the Goldengate basketball team, right?" He wringed his hands. "Don't tell me I've found the wrong address again."

"Yeah," Dash said. "We're the basketball team, but...who are you?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry, I should've started with that. I'm Daniel Milhouse, a good friend of Coach Rangford's. But I'm actually here on business."

"Business?" Brayden asked.

"Yes, official business in fact. You see, I'm a—"

"Talent scout," Jacquarious breathed from behind me.

"Precisely." Mr. Milhouse paused, his head tilting as his eyes homed in on Jacquarious. "Come to think of it, haven't I met you before?"

What? Jac knows this guy?

Jacquarious nodded. "Y-yeah...at the paper." He scratched at the side of his neck.

"Right! You were the intern." He chuckled again. "Well, I'm glad you stuck with it—the way August went ballistic on that poor kid, I'd have thought you'd hightail it out of there the first chance you got."

"Mrs. Cab...er, Regina said the same thing," Jacquarious answered over my shoulder.

Wait...Regina? I cocked my neck to the side, shooting a single look at Jacquarious.

"Well, in any event, I'm glad you stayed," Mr. Milhouse said. "Interning at one of the biggest papers in the country is one surefire way to get your feet wet. Keep this up, and you'll be writing editorials in no time, kid."

Jacquarious shuffled behind me. "Thanks, sir." His words lumbered out like the reluctant clattering of charcoal onto a marbled floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted his shoulders hunch as he avoided stares from me and the other guys.

"...The uh...coach is upstairs," Brayden spoke up after a moment of silence, addressing Mr. Milhouse.

"Thanks. I'll...see you there, I guess."