k a r r i s

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I wanted pancakes. And not just any pan-cooked circular pieces of batter. I wanted fluffy slabs of heaven, slathered with butter and drenched in syrup. I also wanted hot chocolate to go with my pancake cravings, but my endeavors for a scrumptious breakfast items were only a far-fetched dream. To explain easily, Mom found out about my frozen yogurt extravaganza with Ashton and freaked out about the copious amounts of sugar in my system.

"Make sure you finish the entire bowl, and Karris don't add sugar," this was my mother intervening.

I slumped further into my chair, taking a miserable bite of oatmeal before me. No sugar, no fun. Just chia seeds, bananas, and other toppings my mother deemed essential to reverse the effects of refined sugar.

"Jean, don't be so harsh on her," dad, who sat across from me at the kitchen table, chimed in on my defense. "She eats so healthy regularly. A little sugar never hurt nobody."

"Of course," mom agreed, turning around to drop a few blueberries in my oatmeal, "but our daughter, has been consuming too much of it," she paused to look at me, "and sodium. I know you've been eating Hot Cheetos."

My jaw dropped in shock and a banana tumbled out, falling onto the placemat with a plop.

"Don't look so surprised," mom chuckled, "mom's know everything."

Dad started to laugh, setting his coffee mug on the table. His hysterical chuckles only ignited joy within my mom and I, and before you knew it, we were all a jumbled mess of giggles. I didn't realize how much I missed these simple moments than at that moment. The three of us laughing, joking around only reminded me of happiness; of warm feelings I never wanted to let go of.

But then the doorbell rang.

My dad's laughter faded to light chuckles as he walked from the kitchen to the front door to tend to whomever was on the other side of the barricade. While I continued to pick at the goopey breakfast food in front of me, mom poured hot coffee into one of her many thermoses.

"Jean!"

I heard dad call out for mom, who sat her thermos down on the counter top. She sauntered out the kitchen but before she was completely out of earshot, made sure to remind me of the nutrients my body desperately needed.

"Cocoa nibs are full of antioxidants and they are swimming in your oatmeal,"

I shook my head in amusement, surrendering to my mom's ways. She was only looking out for me after all, and I guessed I shouldn't have stuffed my face with so much junk-- I was starting to feel more bloated than normal. But in the midst of forcing myself to eat my mother's concoction, my ears picked up pieces of the conversation taking place on the other side of the kitchen wall.

"...under what reason?"

"...probable cause to believe that your son's death..."

"...good kid. Who would target..."

Narrowing in my brows in concentration, I kept my movements to a minimum. I of course didn't have super sonic hearing, and the words being thrown around in the foyer were only sparking my curiosity. So I scooted my chair back slowly, sliding out, and quietly made my way to the entryway. Peaking around the corner, I saw a new figure standing in the door way with my parents.

Dark brown, curly hair that was slicked back, a white collared shirt beneath a dark grey suit, and to top off this enigmatic man's look, was the aura surrounding him. It was domineering and intimidating.

"Mr. Villanueva, I know you personally requested me to further investigate your son's unfortunate murder, though out of my normal jurisdiction," the man began, stuffing his hands into his pant pockets, "however, we have reason to believe that Gabe may have severely upset people."

"Detective, what are you saying?" Dad questioned.

Detective? It all made sense to me... the clean look, yet rough-around-the-edges demeanor. This mysterious, yet incredibly handsome man standing in my home was the new lead detective from San Francisco. James Ross, I believe was what my mother mentioned to me before.

"Did Gabe ever show signs of aggression towards his classmates?" Detective Ross asked.

"Gabe played hockey; he was the captain at that," mom indicated, "of course he was aggressive. But that type of aggression was only showed on the ice."

"I'm talking about outside of hockey," Detective Ross clarified.

There was only silence as my parents mulled over the new statement. Though they were incredibly intelligent, my parents' brains couldn't piece together what Detective James Ross was insinuating. I however, could understand the underlying message. And I, wasn't too fond on the theory.

"My brother's not a bully," I spoke up, revealing myself from around the corner.

The three adults all gawked at me in shock, but not before my parents' reactions morphed into a more subtle one. I was their daughter, and they knew me best. Eavesdropping on conversations, though an unhealthy and horrible habit, was something I never grew out of.

"Karris," with a sigh, mom's voice carried slight notes of embarrassment as I approached them. She turned her head to the detective and reluctantly introduced her nosey child. "Detective Ross, this is my daughter-- Gabe's twin-- Karris."

"Nice to meet you Karris," he held out his hand, pairing the gesture with a grin.

I shook his hand to be polite, only so I could continue to voice my opinion afterwards. My parents raised me better than to backtalk, especially to adults, but at that time I didn't see it as disrespectful attitude. I merely saw it as a chance to defend my brother.

"I'm sorry, sir," I started, cautious with my tone, "but Gabe was a good person. He's not a bully."

"I believe that Karris; I believe that your brother was a kindhearted person towards you, family, and his friends..." his words faded, as his eyes flickered over to my father.

"But," I spoke, instigating a conclusion from the detective.

"But," Detective Ross continued, "we believe there to be evidence of Gabe's oppressive behavior in his bedroom."

"You can't go in there unless you have a search warrant," I declared, remembering bits of what I learned in AP Government classes years ago. 

"Karris, tama na," dad jumped in, ceasing any further attempts to be part of a conversation meant for grownups.

(translation: enough)

"Dad! You know Gabe he--"

"--it's time for you to go to school," dad interrupted, holding a hand up.

"Mom?" I turned to look at my mother with pleading eyes, "you can't be buying any of this."

"Karris, you should head to school now before you're late," she pressed.

"But--"

"--you can take my car," mom brandished her keys before me, "you have go to go to school now."

I darted my eyes between all three adults in the room, glaring at them in frustration. But I had to accept that arguing wasn't going to make them listen. So for now, I had to let it go.

Admitting defeat, I let out a small groan in frustration. The edges of my mother's lips curved into a subtle smile, showing gratitude of my obedience. I grabbed the car keys from my mom's hand and trudged out of the foyer to leave the adults in their complex secrecy. But I wasn't anywhere near satisfied. I needed answers, and knew exactly where to get them.

Ashton.

I drove myself to school that morning with more than an academic purpose. I had a different kind of motivation surging through me, and no one was going to stop me. When I parked my mom's car in the school lot that morning, I had every intention of getting my answers before heading off to class where I could immerse myself in something that truly made me happy... learning.

But it wasn't going to happen how I wanted it to.

I couldn't find the hockey captain. He wasn't at his locker and when I headed to the water fountain at the center of the quad where the other hockey members were, Ashton was no where to be found. Maybe he wasn't on campus, yet?

"So let me get this straight," Michael began, gazing at me with curiosity, "you need to see Ashton, but you're not going to kick his ass?"

I smiled at the boy whose hair was freshly dyed a deep purple hue, "no, I'm not. I just need to talk to him about something important, that's all."

"Speaking of important," a new voice entered our conversation as an arm wrapped around my shoulders, "I heard you're tutoring us in Chemistry."

"Chemistry?" I raised an eyebrow, looking up at Luke with puzzlement, "tutoring you? Yes, very much so. But chemistry? I don't think so."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Luke gawked at me with wide eyes and concern dripping from his face.

"I believe I'm tutoring you in the art of not being a fuckboy," a mischievous smirk forming on my face.

Luke's face fell into unamused, smooth lines, "ha, ha. You're really funny, babygirl."

"Just messing around," I giggled, "but forreal," I narrowed in my brows, "stop playing my best friend."

"When she stops playing everyone else," Luke's words seemed to be a mistake, because the moment they fell out of his mouth, was the same moment he became quiet. The arm that was gripping my shoulder dropped, and then Luke melted within himself.

"Continuing on," Michael stepped in, feeling the awkward tension and attempting to avoid it, "when's our first study session?"

"Are you all free Saturday morning at 10?" I suggested.

Calum cringed, "studying at 10 A.M.?"

"I'll make food," I insisted, a sing-song tone to my voice as I grinned hopefully at the boys.

"We're in," Michael spoke on behalf of the team, and without any objections, it became an official study date.

As much as I wanted to spend the rest of the morning before class with the team, I still had a mission at hand. Ashton was nowhere to be found, and without knowing much information about the hockey captain, I wasn't exactly sure where to search. But as I sauntered through the campus, something in my brain caused my synapses to fire uncontrollably-- it felt like I figured out an intensely difficult math problem.

Coach Benson.

I hauled myself to his office, dodging my peers in the corridors, all while catching glimpse of Tegan and her posse. They stood by their lockers, talking animatedly amongst themselves, and although Tegan was a Grade-A-Biyotch, she exuded the qualities of a loyal friend-- one of the only traits about the Queen Bee, I could admittedly admire.

"Hey Coach?" I knocked on the open office door.

"Karris," he smiled, looking away from his computer, "come in. What do you need?"

"Have you seen Ashton?" I asked, walking into the office, "I need to talk to him about school stuff."

"I heard you've been tutoring him Biology," Coach Benson mentioned. "Thank you for doing so, by the way. I'm very grateful that for your help off of the ice."

"It's no problem at all. Ashton really knows his Bio topics," I gushed. "We took a quiz yesterday and I'm pretty sure he nailed it."

"That's great to hear. That means he'll be back playing on the ice in no time," Coach was hopeful, and he seemed to really care for Ashton. "But to answer your previous question, he won't be at school today. He's sick, so he's home."

"Oh," I nodded my head, "okay, thanks anyway. I guess, I'll just text him. Thanks Coach."

"No, thank you, Coach," he waved to me, as I walked backwards in the direction of the door.

I spun on my heel, skipping out the door, and leaving Coach Benson to himself. While Ashton being home would seem like the cue to give up for the day, go to class and try again later, it only swayed me to try harder. So instead of heading to my first class of the day, I decided to take a detour to our Bio class.

The aging teacher was sat at his desk, flipping through a stack of paper. A few of his first period students were already seated in the various desks as I walked in. Their eyes landed on me, and I felt my back heat up in anxiety-- I hated the unwanted attention.

"Karris," Mr. Perez peered at me through his glasses. "May I help you?"

"Yes," I grinned, "I was wondering if you had our quizzes graded? I've been tutoring Ashton Irwin and I absolutely cannot wait to see how he did."

"You know I can't discuss another student's grades with you," Mr. Perez disclosed.

"I understand, but Ashton is home sick and won't be able to come to class to see his grade. Plus, I would feel terrible if he didn't do so well," I expressed, standing before my teacher, and eyeing him with hopefulness.

With a sigh, he shot me a smile, "I'll tell you what, because of the circumstances, I will let you take his quiz to him."

"No way?" I shrieked happily, just as Mr. Perez pulled out a blue folder from his desk drawer.

He flipped through the stack, and somewhere in the middle, was Ashton's. He pulled out the quiz handing it over to me with a pleased grin.

"You should be a proud tutor," Mr. Perez complimented.

I took a look at the bright red mark at the top of the page next to where Ashton wrote his name. He received a 96% on our quiz, and I was more than just proud of the hockey captain; I was completely and irrevocably ecstatic for him.

"Thank you," I beamed, carefully placing the quiz into my messenger bag. "I'll see you in class."

"See you later Miss Villanueva,"

With a pep in my step, I exited the classroom with a sonic joy surging all around me. Knowing that Ashton had done extremely well on his Bio quiz, meant more to me than he'd understand. He clearly studied, applied himself, and although he has made the comment about being a future KFC employee, Ashton had a much brighter future.

I've never ditched school altogether before. Sent home early with an excusable justification yes, but to deliberately bolt out of the campus grounds for a reason not-so-serious, was the type of behavior I wasn't known for. I drove to Ashton's house for the first time in a very long time. I've picked up Gabe from his house a few times when he was too drunk to touch a steering wheel, but when I found myself walking up the pathway to the welcoming porch, did I realize that I hadn't ever been this close to the Irwin dwelling before.

After ringing the doorbell, I took a step back, patiently waiting for the door to open. I heard shuffling behind the barricade, and after a minute, the door swung open. When it did, I fully intended to speak, but I had nothing prepared, so I just stood there like an awkward penguin with my mouth agape.

"Karebear, what the hell are you doing here?" Ashton didn't look sick. Frustrated maybe, but sick enough to ditch class? Not so much.

"I-- uh, erm," I stammered.

"Well?" Ashton raised a brow, waiting for me to explain myself.

I took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. I gazed at Ashton as a wave of memories bombarded my mind. From the conversation this morning with my parents and Detective Ross, to the weird, snide remarks of Gabe and Calum's history, all my unanswered questions came down to this:

"Tell me the truth, Ash. Was my brother a bully?"

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And that was Chapter 29! I hope you all liked it. I know it's note nearly as entertaining as other chapters, but it's still an important one nonetheless. I wanted to introduce Detective James Ross in addition to setting up the reveal of Gabe's past... which I'll say, is a juicy one! :)

Thanks, as always, for voting, for reading, and for commenting one this story! I work extremely hard on each chapter and for people to actually read and enjoy what I write, means a lot to me! I really appreciate it! <3