Henry Franks(20)

“Why?”

Justine looked up, half-turning to face him. Her fingers, with their pale pink nail polish, drummed against the seat between them. She smiled. “To help?”

He looked at her, studying the warmth of her smile, the depth of her eyes as she faced him. He took a deep breath and smiled back. “I found some pictures in the basement the other day.”

“Of you?”

“No. I don’t know. They looked like me,” he said. “But these were old, black-and-white.”

“Did they remind you of anything?”

“I think maybe they’re of my dad.”

“So?” she asked.

“When I went back to look at them, they were gone.”

“Gone?”

“The basement was cleaned up and the pictures were missing.”

“Maybe your dad has them,” Justine said. “Have you asked him?”

“I tried, but I don’t see him very often, really.” Henry smiled. “I live the perfect teenage life, no parents.” The smile faded. “Kinda sucks.”

She rested her fingers on his arm, right above the scar, as the bus pulled into the high school. The movement slid her strap down her shoulder.

“You match again,” Henry said. Even through her tan, she blushed.

They walked off the bus and into school together until her friends called her away. Still, she lingered next to him a moment longer before leaving. His scar, which she’d almost touched, didn’t itch at all.



After eating lunch, Henry left the cafeteria and headed for the library, hoping to catch Justine before she finished studying. As he passed the lab he almost ran into the new science teacher, but someone reached out for him, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the way.

“Trying to kill another teacher, Scarface?” Bobby said.

“What?” Henry tried to shrug out of Bobby’s grip, but the much-larger football player held him easily.

“You live on the island, don’t you?” Bobby asked. “Lots of dead bodies piling up out there. I think I might need to start gathering some pitchforks and villagers.”

Henry squirmed, but Bobby just pushed him harder into the lockers. The hall was empty now that the teacher had gone in to the lab. “Just let me go.”

“Oh, and about Justine? She’s cute,” Bobby said. “Out of your league, though, sorry about that.” He smiled and pushed Henry away, sending him to the floor.

Henry picked himself up but Bobby was already walking into the library. He looked through the library window long enough to see Justine turn away from Bobby, but he was too far away to hear what she said.

“Out of your league too,” Henry said with a smile, running his fingers over the scar on his wrist.

Officials at Town Hall Meeting

Warn of Suspected Serial Killings

Brunswick, GA—August 21, 2009: Mayor Jim Monroe appeared with Carmella Rawls of the Brunswick Police Department and Major Daniel Johnson of FLETC at a press conference at Glynn Academy in Brunswick on Thursday evening to discuss the investigation into what is being called a suspicious series of murders in Glynn County. While few details were given, some guidelines were provided by the Mayor to increase public safety. The main recommendation was to utilize the Buddy System by traveling in pairs when possible.

“This is not a time for panic or overreaction,” Mayor Monroe said. “This is a time for the community to come together and resolve to rededicate ourselves to preserving the safe, family-friendly environment that makes Brunswick and the Golden Isles such a wonderful place to live and visit.”

“I’m confident in the resiliency of the people of Glynn County and in the resources which have been allocated to this situation,” Mayor Monroe stated at the end of the press conference. “I urge everyone to support our community and our local businesses by continuing to enjoy the beautiful summer we have been having.”





thirteen




“Any plans for the weekend?” Justine asked as they walked off the bus.

“Air-conditioning. You?”

“Not going to the football game tonight?”

Henry slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shook his head. “Wasn’t planning on it. Don’t really know what I’m going to do.”

“Well,” she said, “I was thinking today.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes.” Her ponytail bobbed with her smile. “It’s a good thing. I’d like to help.”

“Help?” Henry asked.

“The pictures, in your basement.”

“What about them?”

“Want help finding them?”



The front door stuck when he tried to open it and it took a push or two to work the key. A welcome rush of cold air blew out and Henry fumbled for the light switch.

“Now I know where you get your style,” Justine said, looking around the entranceway.

“My style?”

“All dark and moody. You dress like your house.”

“It was like this when we moved in, I think. Blame the people who lived here before.” Henry matched her laugh. “Though it is a little depressing in here.”

“No wonder you’re seeing a shrink,” she said, pushing against his forearm as they walked. When he didn’t respond, she said, “That was a joke, you know?”