Chapter VII

Expecting the Unexpected

The sound of my Miu Miu sandals heels hitting the concrete floor echoed loudly in the school corridors as I made my way to the gymnasium.

When I reached the desired destination, I forcefully pulled the door open, every eyes automatically turning to stare at me in shock, but I ignored those and spotted my brother.

“You,” I pointed at him. “Out. Now.”

He looked at me like I was crazy, which I probably kind of was at the moment. “I’m kind of busy,” he pointed out.

I crossed my arms over my chest, not bothering that I was interrupting someone’s important speech, or whatever it was they were doing. “We need to talk, now,” I hissed through my teeth.

“Jeez, fine,” he grumbled getting up, though I don’t think my pissy hissing was the only reason that convinced him to follow me—though very reluctantly—I think the angry stares of all the boys doing any kind of sports gathered around to listen to their coach speak about his summer fat loss had weight in the balance.

When I heard the door shut behind him, I turned sharply to glare at my brother. “Did you know?”

Noah rolled his eyes. “No, I had no idea that you were completely bonkers. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

I jabbed my perfectly manicured pointer finger on his shoulder. “I thought that you were joking when you said he was a serial killer!”

Confused, my brother looked between me and his shoulder. “Huh… what?”

“That guy,” I exclaimed, raising my arms up like a crazy person, “that Caleb guy that works at our house, he’s a freaking psychopath! And a pyromaniac too!” I continued ranting, my voice getting higher and higher. “I totally guessed in my head that he would set fire to the fields!” I added as an afterthought.

Still, Noah didn’t seem to get more enlightened. “What are you talking about?”

“Caleb Colt is a crazy pyromaniac and he works for our grandfather!” I told him, point blank.

Now, he did not seem confused or amused—he looked undeniably unhappy. “Did you seriously interrupt my meeting for this?”

“Did you know?” I pressed.

“What? That he spends a fair amount of time in the principal office? Sure,” he shrugged, “of course, but who cares, he’s good at his job.”

“His job being setting fire to the crops,” I shot back automatically.

Noah glared at me. “Naomi, you have no idea what you’re talking about and I seriously don’t understand why you had to drag me out.”

“You wanted me more involved with the whole our-mine thing, well that’s me being concerned!”

“That’s definitely not what I meant when I said you should be saying our home and not the house. You know, that exactly what your problem is, you blow things way out of proportion.” He sighed in annoyance. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get back to.”

I just stared at him in disbelief. Blowing things out of proportion? Oh, that boy had no idea. “You think this is out of proportion. YOU AIN’T SEEN NOTHING YET!” I yelled after him.

He ignored me and I just stood there while the door loudly closed behind him.

This wasn’t over.

Noah didn’t care about having a crazy person working at our grandfather’s farm? Fine. I cared. I cared and I would get to the button of this story, because obviously there was something I was missing here.

Was he doing some kind of drug contraband on our land? Was he growing weed there and my brother had his back because he wanted some?

A million questions were running through my head. Obviously. Why had my grandfather hired Caleb? Why hadn’t Noah said anything about his psychotic behaviour if he wasn’t already aware of it? Was Caleb my grandfather’s love child or something?

As much as I enjoyed asking a lot of questions, I didn’t enjoy not having the answers to those questions. I needed answers—it was in my reporter blood.

Getting the answers might be complicated though, because my brother didn’t look like he was going to be of any help. I’d need to do this on my own.

I would go to the bottom of this. I had to. The reporter in me couldn’t accept a situation without a clear answer. Mysteries were never left unresolved. There was something odd about that Caleb boy and I was going to find everything about him.

And to find out everything about him, I had to start investigating and I had to do it now.

Unfortunately, as I headed back to the cafeteria, the first ran signalling that it was the end of the lunch break and as much as I hated mysteries, being late to class was not an option.

And to add up to my misfortune, I did not see the boy for most of the afternoon. I didn’t even cross him in the halls. It was odd because I kept seeing the same people over and over again but never him.

But finally, during the last class of the day—History—almost one second before the tardy bell rang, Mister Caleb Colt walked in the class. He sat at the very back, in a corner, and during half of the period he had his head pressed against the wall and it looked like he was sleeping. The other half he was busy doodling on his desk or writing on it—whatever he was doing with his pen, there were no sheets or notebook to receive the ink.

Myabe I should try sitting at the desk beside him or in front of him for next class. And maybe I should go and see what he wrote on there.

Reporter tip one-oh-one: grasp at any straw.

I realized as I was scheming in my head that this pseudo obsession with finding out everything about the guy could become my ticket in the school journal.

Everyone had a story to tell. If I couldn’t find out Caleb Colt’s story right away, some other people stories could also be interesting and useful.

Instead of following Colt at the end of the class to find out if he took the bus, walked home or had a car, I made my way to the principal office for the second time of the day.

No one was at the secretary’s desk, but the door to Ms Harbor’s office was slightly open and I could see her still sitting at her desk.

I knocked on the door and was greeted with a “come in.” When she looked up and saw me, Ms Harbor frowned slightly, putting her reading glasses down. “Miss Flinch, I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon.”

I took the few steps that separated me with the door and the chair in front of her desk and sat down. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just have an idea I wanted to run by you.”

Tapping her fingers rhythmically on the desk, she nodded at me. “Go on.”

I smoothed my skirt with my hands. “Well, I’ve skimmed through the school journal, and while it’s been nicely executed so far, I couldn’t help but notice that there are no people highlights in it.” I took a breath, letting this settle in the principal mind. “In my previous High School, every week we had a personality from the school, whether it was a student or a member of the personnel, interviewed and there was a little article on them stating why exactly we had chosen them for the week. It really helped with the school’s cohesion, when you know what some of the members do to make it a better place.” And then for the coup de grâce, the stroking of ego. “It makes the students appreciate more the work you put in our school.” I smiled at the end of my speech, making it seem as genuine as I could.

The principal stayed silent for a good thirty second, her fingers still slowly tapping on her desk. She picked up her glasses, pressing one of the tip on her chin and sighed. “This does sound like a good idea and it is a nice initiative. I’ll talk with Constance tomorrow and we’ll try to find a way to include your idea into the journal”

“And give me a position?” I pressed.

I almost got an eye roll, I could just sense it. “And give you a position.”

I smiled widely. “Thank you very much Ms Harbor!”

“You’re welcome dear,” she nodded and put her glasses back on—my cue to leave.

With my purse in the crook of my elbow and a smile small on my lips, I walked out of the school with my head held high, definitely proud of my first day.

I was a force to be reckoned with and I would prove it soon enough.

When I reached my brother’s car he had his arms leaning on the top of it and an exasperate expression on his face. “What the heck have you been doing?”

With a wave of my hand, I walked to the passenger side. “Caring. Caring and scheming.”

Noah groaned, bumping his forehead on the car. “I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“You really shouldn’t,” I smirked back and got inside.

This was only the beginning.