"You're hurting me," I say, trying to pull my arm free. "Let me go."
"Not until we're home," he says, walking so fast I can barely keep up.
When we're at the house, we go inside and he finally lets go of my arm.
He slams the door. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I'm going to my room." I storm off, furious with him for getting angry about this. My boyfriend just got arrested and he expects me to do nothing? Not even ask what happened?
"Rumor!" Brock races up beside me, yanking me back and leaning down to my face. "Do you want to get arrested? Go to jail? Is that what you want?"
"No! But I couldn't just stand there and not say anything. They took Jackson! He didn't do anything!"
"Except kill someone," Braden says, casually strolling up to Brock and me in the living room. He smirks. "Guess they finally got their killer."
"He didn't kill anyone," I say, glaring at Braden.
"You're right," he says with a smirk. "It wasn't just anyone. It was Kristen Reynolds, one of the richest people in town. Most popular girl at school."
"He didn't kill her," I say through gritted teeth.
"Then who did?" Braden folds his arms over his chest. "And why would they do itthere? At Novak's house?"
"Who the hell knows? But I know he didn't do it."
"Okay, enough!" Brock says, raising his voice. "Both of you sit down."
Braden and I glance at each other, neither one of us moving.
"I said sit down!" Brock yells, his voice booming in the high ceilings. "Right now!"
Braden and I take a seat on opposite ends of the couch.
Brock stands across from us, his arms crossed. "I don't want either one of you getting involved in this. That means no asking questions about it. To anyone. And definitely no answering of questions, especially to the authorities."
"They're not gonna question me," Braden says. "I had nothing to do with it."
I look at him. "How did you even know about it?"
"It's already online. When I saw the cops down there I went online and saw that Kristen was dead. They found her behind Novak's house." He smirks. "The shithead wasn't even smart enough to hide the body."
"Braden!" Brock scolds. "Show some compassion. A girl is dead. A girl you were friends with."
"I wasn't friends with her." He leans back against the couch, putting his arms up along the back of it. "Kristen was a bitch. I only put up with her because of her dad."
"Then why were you kissing her at the front door the other night?" I ask.
Brock's eyes dart to Braden. "Is that true? Was Kristen here?"
"Yeah, but she didn't stay." He gets his phone out. "I had to get to practice so she left."
Brock sighs and drops his head, rubbing his hand over his face. "Fuck."
"What?" I say, my eyes going between Braden and Brock. Braden's messing with his phone, not noticing his dad's reaction.
"Braden!" Brock goes over to him, yanking his phone from his hand.
"What the hell?" Braden reaches for his phone. "Give it back!"
