Forgetting Addy

Chapter 2

Before

It was the summer before ninth grade and every person in the history of Holly Stanton High School had went through puberty. Girls now had more than mosquito bites and guys had more hair under their arms. As I see it, the world is always classified in varieties of two groups: like those who read books and those whod do not, those that daydream during class and those who do not, then there is those who hit puberty and those who bloom late. The unfortunate teens, like myself, who hit puberty last are usually unnoticed. But it’s not like I walk into a room and guys say, “His voice hasn’t dropped yet, let’s ignore him.” No, it’s not like that at all. It just subliminally happens. We, as humans, unravel each other into different categories without even knowing that we’re doing so. When I walked into homeroom that year, I discovered the once friends I had found themselves without me. I was okay; I had Addy. I reminisced on the thought of her for a while—that summer something changed. I didn’t even have time to witness her unraveling into the world. She wasn’t my secret little friend anymore. There was less sneaking out to see each other at the park or the abandoned furniture store. She unraveled me from her life late that July, but I tried my best not to notice. 

As soon as the thought of her crept into my mind, she walked in. She became everything I predicted and more, and I was not the only guy in the room who noticed. She made her way into the desk next to me and smiled at me, and I swore her smile read to me as it did to everyone. Her smile said “You don’t know me, and you never will.” 

After

The events that happened the day after the memorial had more than just me questioning the scene. Here I was in a police station with a letter from Addy I have not been able to read yet and a police officer playing twenty-one questions with me.

I never liked police officers or crime shows, for that matter. I always felt like it was a corrupt force that protected itself at all cost. But maybe that was just from hearing my dad ramble on and on after one too many drinks.

“Where were you prior to the scene of Mr. Granley’s accident?” We were sitting in one of those cheesy interrogation rooms, even though they say it’s for innocent questioning. Detective Fisher swore there was no need for a lawyer, just questions about the incident. Fisher was a mean-looking man, black, and quite pudgy. He had more lines on his face, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt that he was younger than forty. 

“I was at home sleeping.” 

“Where were you going this morning?” He had to have been smart enough to know what direction I was heading, straight toward Addy’s own personal crime scene. 

“I was heading to Old Park.” I had no reason to lie.

“The place of Addy Clay’s murder scene.” I hated the word scene. I hated the fact that it sounded like a show or a movie being produced—this was more real than that; this was Addy’s real-life television show. 

“Yes. I was going to see what it was like there.” 

“And why is that? Do you not think we investigated Old Park? There were no ties to Addy’s murder at Old Park, just the place her body was disposed at.”  I hated the way he was so blunt about the fact. I hated it, I hated him. 

“If you don’t mind if there are no more questions about Jeremiah, I want to leave.” 

He stared at me and squinted his eyes like I was a light too close to his face, “Yeah of course, you can go. We understand people deal with grief in different ways.”

“How is Jeremiah?” 

“He’s fine, lucky guy actually. We’re not going to hold him accountable for the alcohol he consumed. Like I said, we understand grief.” There it was Holly Stanton’s finest! Let kids off the loose if they play their cards right, or if they play on the football field.