The phone shook as I grasped it tightly in my trembling hands. The note was written on a crumpled piece of paper, torn straight from an old notebook, evident from the tattered edges.  I read the messy words over and over again, trying to make sense of it all.   I'm sorry, I'm so sorry to Mom, Dad, Parker, Amalia Hadid, Reniella De Vega, Deshawn Cervantes, and whoever else I've come across lately.  Everywhere I look I see Deshawn's face. He's always there, whispering in my ear and sneering at the awful decisions that I've made. He hates me, in life and death, and I can't bear to see his face. It's painful. Reniella De Vega would know what I'm talking about, I know she can see him too. &n

  During my daze, somebody took a seat to my left, bringing the strong smell of cologne along with him. It nearly choked me in its tight grasp and was enough to jolt me awake.   "Reniella De Vega." He smiled.    I turned my head and met those infamous blue eyes. Taron Rios.    His long legs were crossed and he stretched out his body along the pew with his arm sneaking behind my head. Deshawn lifted himself from my shoulder.    "Hello," I greeted carefully.   "How are you?" he asked and looked at me through those thick lashes.    "I'm fine, how are you?" I countered.

  "Before Marco admitted to killing Deshawn Cervantes in that note, the police were going to put the blame on you, I thought you should know," Amalia muttered after we watched them wheel Parker into the back of the ambulance.    My ears perked at the news.    "It's because you're not a part of the upper class and the rest of the suspects were. The stupidly rich and stuck up families in the city were begging for answers, scared their children might've been next, so they had to think quickly. Offering up the poor, government-draining, nobody would've satisfied them. So, yeah... it was going to be you, it was the easiest choice."    It wasn't a shock. We'd already guessed this and the prospect that our police department might have been corrupt wasn't

 "Jesus, Ross," I whispered. There was so much of it. The white powder packaged nicely and lay in his car freely, for anyone to see or take.  "You idiot! You picked me up from the police with a shit ton of drugs." I reached over and slapped his arm lightly while my features scrunched up. "Damn you, it's pretty bloody obvious you have intent to supply here, mate. You could have been done!"  He shook his head playfully. "It's only coke. Besides, they wouldn't have searched the car, they didn't have any need to. I'm a good boy, seriously." With a hot temper, I leaned down as my hands met with the small, clear plastic bag on the floor that had caught my eye while I was stepping inside the car. It was identical to those in his glove box but this one was emp

 Their plan didn't sound half bad either. Break-in over the gates around the back, use the keys somebody had stolen from the caretaker, and jump right into the school swimming pool. It brought a pang of jealousy that their school even had its own swimming pool, mine didn't. But, then again, my school wasn't a private school for the country's elite either.  Nobody else seemed to be worried, so when Joseph grabbed my hand and led us back through the house and to the cars sitting pretty outside, neither was I. I swallowed down my anxiousness and sat on Joseph's lap in some stranger's fancy car as we were en route to Zobel College for Boys, located only a short distance away. It did make me suspicious that we needed a getaway car but the noise that filled the vehicle was too much for me to concentrate on. We had more bo