I am currently in chapter 6 of Lost Again, and this is definitely my favorite part of the chap.
Your phone rang. Your eyes falling down at the lightened screen.
- We are done. I am sorry it took so long.
You looked up at Thomas, his eyes remained curiously on his fries. Muching silently.
- It's okay. I was grabbing something to eat.
She answered almost immediately. And you wondered how the conversation about you went.
- Are you still at school? I’ll go pick you up now.
- - It's fine, I can go back by myself once I am done.
When you saw she didn't reply, you slumped in your place with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose to edge away the headache building there. There was a word to describe this, but for more than you racked your brain, it didn’t seem to come.
“I ordered you something to drink.” He sighed, “Since you didn’t order anything before.”
You sulked in silence under the inquisitive gaze of your… friend? Ex-best friend? What was Tommy to you now? What were you to each other now?
It was all becoming too much. “Why did you invite me here, Tom?”
Exhausting. That was the word you were looking for. All of this was exhausting.
Your old friend sighed. His hands falling on top of the table, still. “I wanted to see how you were doing. And I heard about the principal’s idea,” he shrugged. “I am in the council after all. I wanted to see how you would take the news.”
At that, you frowned, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?”
He scoffed. “Would you believe me if I said I was worried?”
You would have if things were like they used to be. But they weren’t.
You shook your head, eyes trained on the vanilla scop floating in your glass. Another sorrowful sigh left your lips. You used to love it, Tom, and you used to do things like this all the time. And somehow knowing he remembered that detail about you just sent dread inside of you. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t like it anymore, though it all was the same as the days before, the taste was not quite the same as before, or maybe you just weren’t the same person anymore.
“Just tell me why I am really here.”
Thomas's eyes narrowed. He leaned over the table, his fingers reaching to play with the straw of his milkshake. He seemed to mull his words over. Then… “What did the police ask you?”
You froze, not comfortable by the question itself. It was not a secret that the police had taken you in for interrogation. But you wondered why Thomas wanted to know what did they say.
“Why are you asking me this?”
Thomas shifted in place. “Did you hear about the new killings?”
You looked away. Eyes trained at some point outside the glass of the dinner. Hoping he didn’t see the grimace that overtook your features. You had a similar conversation before. Tom and you used to spend hours debating and playing how would either of you would act if you decided to become a serial killer and cause mayhem in Woodsboro. It used to be fun before. Simple mindless ways to lose time. But the circumstances changed, and now the thought only sent a sour feeling through you.
“Killing.” You corrected, trying not to sound too annoyed. “It was only one.”
Thomas scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “Surely you don’t believe it will be the only one, isn’t it?”
