Page 92 of Bad For A Weekend

My head is on a swivel as I sit in the sea of my classmates, Hudson at my side. No one seems to be on edge except me, and I have no reason to be. I just can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong.

The headmaster speaks for a mind-numbingly long time before handing the microphone off to the valedictorian, Chance. People thought I’d be upset by him winning the honor over me, but I didn’t care. He deserved it, and it was less work for me to not have to write a speech.

I barely listen as Chance talks of his favorite memories and anecdotes about different teachers; I’m too busy looking through the beautiful landscaping for what, I don’t know.

“Calm down. Everything’s fine. There hasn’t been a peep over the radio,” Hudson whispers.

“You don’t even know who you’re looking for.”

“These guys are trained to notice people who don’t belong. You’re fine.”

His dismissive attitude pisses me off. If Owen were here, he’d listen to my instincts and at least make sure things were okay. Not Hudson. He’s too arrogant for his own good. He acts like his presence is enough to deter anyone from coming after me.

Two long hours into the ceremony, it’s time to hand out our diplomas. Row by row, we stand and line up on the right-hand side of the stage. When it’s my turn, Hudson follows me, waiting in line and looking awkward.

“I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.” Hudson points to where students are walking off stage.

“Okay.”

I’m almost to the front of the line when I feel eyes on me. A lead weight settles in my gut, and I look through the rows of pruned bushes and flowers in full bloom to see a tall, bulky man wearing a black suit with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Owen,” I breathe out.

Unfortunately, Hudson hears me and curses under his breath. “I didn’t know he was back in town.”

For the first time today, my smile is big and genuine. It’s all I can do to not run in front of the stage and climb him like a spider monkey. God, I missed him so much.

He waves subtly and nods toward the stage. I realize my name has been called, and I’m still standing here, grinning. Lifting my head high, I walk across the stage to a chorus of hoots and hollers from Dad and Brandy. The headmaster turns me to the side to pose for a picture with my diploma.

Now that Owen is here, everything feels right, and I can enjoy this moment. I hope to God he sticks around after so I can at least give him a hug.

“We’re so proud of you, Baylor. Now go out and do something incredible with your life,” Headmaster Clarkson stays.

“Thank you. I will.” I shake his hand and continue to walk across the stage.

Looking out at the crowd, I wave to Dad and Brandy, who are on their feet, cheering. Brandy has tears streaming down her face, and Dad doesn’t look too far behind her. I raise my hands above my head, feeling so much of everything in this moment.

I glance over to see Owen’s reaction and freeze. My face falls, and all the happiness I just felt drains from me. There’s a look of utter horror on his handsome face as he takes off in a sprint. I try to see where he’s running to but catch sight of Hudson running full speed in the same direction.

With everyone still cheering on their feet, I can’t figure out what’s happening. Instinctually, I know it has to do with me, and I know whatever it is, is bad.

Someone shouts, “Get down!” followed by screams of terror.

I look straight ahead, where the chaos seems to be stemming from, and see a woman in the center aisle. I’ve never met her, but I feel as though I know her. Her arm raises, and then there’s a loudbang. Suddenly, I’m being thrown backward with the force of a boulder. My head hits the stage, dazing me, and a sharp, stinging pain shoots through my stomach. I feel around to see what hit me, but there’s nothing there except warm, thick fluid.

What the hell happened?

The outdoor space is in chaos. I hear people shouting and running in a stampede. Then there’s another loudbangand more blood-curdling screams.

Was that a gun? Oh, God. Have I been shot?

Lifting my hand up, I see it’s covered in red. I’m bleeding. A lot. Fear takes hold, and my vision narrows until blackness takes over.

Owen

Istand over the body of the woman I just shot and kick her gun away. She’s dead, but there’s always a chance she can pop up, so it’s good practice. I want to look away. I fucking need to look away. But I can’t.

Blood turns her blond hair red as it seeps from the wound in her forehead. Her vivid blue eyes stare vacantly ahead, and her petite body is splayed at an awkward angle. My fingers and toes go numb, my limbs tingle, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears as I take her in.

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