Reunion (A Psychological Suspense with Murder, Mystery and the Paranormal) Read Free Page A

core.
    “Come on, you little pansy!” Nick Tooley said. “Can’t you reach your hat? It’s right here! Too high for you?”
    The others laughed as Nick dangled David’s hat in the air. David awkwardly jumped up to grab it, but fell to the ground. Nick’s twin, Randy, stood at a distance, looking torn, but remaining silent.
    “Come on! Give it back, Nick!” David had yelled.
    Finally, out of utter despair and nearly in tears, he had shot his fist at Nick and, surprisingly, hit him square in the jaw. Shocked and embarrassed, Nick stood still, his cheeks turning as red as boiling lava. The students nearby held their breath, waiting to see what Nick would do. His large blue sweatshirt expanded and his fists tightened.
    “You little prick!” Nick gritted his teeth and tightened his thick jaw. “I’m gonna kick—your—ass!”
    David turned to run away, but Nick grabbed him by his T-shirt and slammed him against one of the lockers that lined the hallway. David’s small frame was no match for the girth of the thick athlete. His head crashed against a steel locker door, followed by the rest of his bony frame. He grunted. Nick reached his fist back to finish him off. David closed his eyes and waited for his lashing. It never came. Bryan Jacobs stopped Nick’s fist in midair.
    “He’s had enough!” Bryan said. “Let him go.”
    Bryan glared at the others, asserting his authority. “Come on, guys! Can’t you just leave him alone for once?”
    Nick reluctantly lowered his fist. Bryan confiscated the hat from one of the athletes and handed it to David, who grabbed it and backed away from Nick.
    “You okay?” Bryan asked. He extended his hand toward David.
    David nodded his head and scuttled away.
    Nick rubbed his jaw and watched David escape. “Better run, you fricken loser!”
    David remembered faces and names. He kept a list of all his abusers. He cleared Bryan because of his valiant behavior, but the others remained in his mental inventory. From that day on, David fell deeper and deeper into the depths of despair, cementing his homicidal plans.
    He opened his eyes and reached for his cassette player. Bill and Sheila were sound asleep. They usually slept until 11:00 a.m. or later. He put his headphones on and readied himself for the big show.

2 nd
     
    T anner entered the school and hurried toward his locker in the senior hallway. He awkwardly balanced his many textbooks and spiral-bound folders, weaving his way through the roaring crowd of students. Just get to the locker without getting noticed—quickly and quietly, he thought.
    A nameless voice shouted, “Nice floods, Tanner!”
    “Ha-ha!” said Tanner, artificially chuckling along with the other voices, which he dared not identify. He kept his shy eyes locked on the polished tile work, pushed down on his pants and continued walking.
    The hallway bristled with energized seniors and a few underclassmen. Some stopped to stare at the trophy case on the senior wall, and some played cat and mouse with each other on their way to first period. Tanner stopped at his locker and began turning the combination at precisely the same moment that a new figure entered his peripheral vision. He lifted his head, turned to the left, and his heart revved up, full throttle.
    Lana Jones strolled down the senior hallway, arms crossed, holding her books, brunette ponytail swinging. Her eyes glistened with excitement. She stepped out of the flow of teenage traffic and stopped at her locker—right next to Tanner. She cocked her head in Tanner’s direction and looked at him with a smile. He smiled back. She’s gorgeous, he thought. And she smells good too.
    “Hello, Tanner.”
    “Hi, Lana.”
    He quickly turned back and attempted to look busy. He shoved his books into his locker in the order of his daily schedule, and then peered into a magnetized mirror stuck to the door and pulled a stray hair away from his eyes. He glanced back at Lana. She leaned against her locker, gazed