Heather and I went from class to class. I underestimated how much her presence would affect me. I struggled to focus in class, the insanity consuming my life making concentration nearly impossible. Heather didn't make it easier. She would talk to me endlessly, judging other kids as I attempted to work. Inevitably, I would respond to her and end up looking crazy to everyone else. Eventually, the fourth period rolled around, and I finally had the chance to speak to Izaya.

I entered the class a bit nervous. What would I say? Even if I did say something, would he respond? Or would he act like nothing had happened again? I spotted him in his seat, pulling his binder out for class. Taking my seat next to him, I noticed how he immediately stopped going through his bag but didn’t look at me. The room filled with a heavy melancholy before I spoke.

“What did you tell her?” I asked quietly.

“Once you walked away, some of her friends came up to tell her something important… they walked away and she said we’d talk about the flashlight at lunch.” Izaya’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion, just filled with sorrow.

“What are you gonna tell her?” Izaya sat silently for a few moments, then put his hands over his face.

“I- I don’t know,” he admitted, his tone hopeless.

“Tell her it was yours… just tell her you left it there, easy as that,” I suggested. Izaya dropped his hands but still looked at me, uncertainty in his eyes.

“That could work,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, bro, just tell her you got scared and dropped it or something like that.” Izaya nodded his head in compliance, his demeanor changing slightly as he now had a functional excuse. I didn’t push further; I just patted him on the back, and then we continued with class.

Heather’s face contorted in confusion. “So, are you just not gonna question him?” she asked sarcastically.

I looked over at her before scribbling on a piece of paper, “He doesn’t want to talk,” I wrote quickly.

“I don’t care what he wants. Get some answers out of him,” Heather said, annoyed. I raised my hand to ask to go to the bathroom, and the teacher allowed it. Once I was in the hall with Heather, I spoke. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“There is probably a damn good reason he doesn’t want to talk about it,” I said defensively. Heather cut me off.

“Fuck that, Al. He came there at night with a crowbar. What exactly do you think he was planning to do? Because to me, it looked like he was going there to kill.”

“Come on, Heather, he wouldn’t—” Heather cut me off once more.

“Al, he’s clearly working with Veronica. If she isn’t above murder, then I doubt her boyfriend would be either.” Heather was making sense, but deep down, I knew I had to help my friend.

“The fact is he didn’t try to kill me, and now he’s sticking his neck out to stop Veronica from knowing I was there. He’s trying to help me, and if talking about what’s going down puts him in danger, then I don’t want him to say anything, end of the story.”

Heather clenched her fist before she spoke, her voice trembling with frustration. “You’re being naive, Al. You can’t trust him. He’s involved, and we need answers. If you keep protecting him, you’re putting yourself at risk. Think about what’s at stake here. We need to get to the bottom of this, and we can’t do that if you’re too afraid to push him for the truth.”

I looked at her, seeing the intensity in her eyes, and realized the gravity of the situation. She was right. I couldn’t let my loyalty to Izaya cloud my judgment. But at the same time, I couldn’t abandon him completely.

“Alright, Heather,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll try to get more information out of him, but we need to be careful. I don’t want to push him too hard and risk losing whatever chance we have to uncover the truth.”

Heather nodded, her expression softening slightly. “Just promise me you won't wimp out.”

“I promise,” I said, feeling the weight of the situation settles heavily on my shoulders. We returned to the classroom, my mind racing with the delicate balance I needed to maintain between protecting my friend and uncovering the truth.

I took my seat next to him and it took a few moments before I decided to speak. “Were you there… to hurt somebody.”

He still refused to look at me, he tried taking down notes but his hand trembled too much. Then he whispered “I never wanted to hurt anyone but… if she says we need to…” he stopped himself as if what he was uttering was heresy and he had doomed himself to be saying it.

“We? There are more people working with Veronica?”

Izaya jolted hearing this implying what I said was correct but I spoke too loudly. His reaction caused me to look around the classroom. This wasn't as simple as I thought. There was something bigger going on here. But before I could question him further the bell rang. Izaya quickly packed his stuff but as he attempted to leave I stopped him. “Wait Izaya who is we?”

He simply shook his head. “She already here.” I watched as he walked out of class into the hallway. And he was right Veronica was out there waiting. Of course, Heather decided to add her two senses.

“You might be the only person to get more information and make shit more confusing.”

I ignored Heather's comment and made my way out of the classroom. As I walked through the halls, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, Alé.” I turned around to see Heather Duke. Her hand slid down from my shoulder to my arm as she spoke. “You have lunch this period, right?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Yeah,” I said, baffled. She hadn't spoken to me after Chandler forbade it, but even after she died, Duke still avoided me.

“Good, we need to talk.” She nodded her head toward the courtyard, signaling me to follow her as she walked outside. I followed closely behind her.

“What’s going on, Duke?” I asked.

“Not until we are outside.” I didn't question her vagueness. I hadn't spoken to her in so long that her voice was comforting. But it was clear this wasn't the same Heather Duke I knew. When we were friends, she was kind and full of life. As we transitioned to high school, she fell into the same boat as Chandler, consumed by popularity. Once Chandler died, Duke had all the control, and for a while, it went to her head. You'd miss having Chandler around, but one day she snapped. She just stopped caring. Dark circles formed under her eyes, and her clothes were no longer prim and proper—they were as disheveled as her.

We finally made it outside, far from any prying eyes. Then she finally spoke. “What were you doing Sunday?”

“I was just hanging out with Izaya—” She cut me off, a common trait among Heathers.

“No, you weren't. You were at the Chandler house.”

Her comment made me titter. How could she have known that? I had to try to play it off.

“Duke, I—”

“What happened to you, Alé? I never thought you of all people would go there. Whatcha write? Or did you go there to reminisce?” She spoke with a smirk growing on her face. She pulled out a cigarette once she finished speaking, promptly lighting it and placing it between her lips.

“I didn't go there to write anything… I was looking for Ruby.” Duke stopped upon hearing this as if a bombshell had been dropped on her. “She went missing, and that was the last place I know she went.”

“Missing, huh… Veronica… she asked one thing of me.” She took a long puff of her cigarette before speaking again. “I said I wanted no part in whatever she was doing… and the one thing she asked was if I ever saw somebody in that house, I'd call her and tell her.” She took another nervous puff. “I didn't know it was you in there till I saw the car.” She took yet another puff and covered her eyes as if she was frustrated with herself. “I tried calling her again and saying I was mistaken, that—that I saw an animal or something, but she had already sent Izaya.” This time she stopped but didn't smoke; she just breathed heavily. “I was so worried that something bad would happen to you before I could say I was sorry.” She shook her head as she spoke, rapidly taking hits of her cigarette.

“Duke,” I said, unsure of what to say. I'd never really thought about what I'd say if we spoke again. I placed a hand on her shoulder, and we both sat down on a nearby bench.

“You don't have to say anything, Alé. I'm sorry. I left you behind, and now I'm paying for it.” She calmed down and took shorter smokes as she spoke, her tired demeanor returning.

“Duke, I want to take her down. Veronica! I don’t know what she’s doing, but if you help me, we can make things right.”

“This is bigger than just her, Alé. She is one small piece of a bigger puzzle.”

I stopped and thought before I spoke. Tons of information was being dropped on me. “Then we’ve got to start somewhere. You don't know what Veronica did, Duke. She—” I struggled to tell Duke that Veronica had killed Heather Chandler. I looked at Heather’s ghost, who was shaking her head disapprovingly. I was going to tell her anyway, but Duke cut me off. She placed her cigarette between my lips, but I quickly removed it.

“Duke, come on, you know I don’t—”

She placed her hand on the side of my face, effectively silencing me. With her other hand, she moved my arm into place so the cigarette was in my mouth. “You’re getting sporadic, Alé. You’re worse than me.” She smirked, saying this, and she stared deep into my eyes until I joined in on the smoking.

There was an unexpected intimacy in the moment. As the smoke filled my lungs, I felt a strange connection to Duke, as if we were both lost souls trying to find our way back. Her touch lingered on my skin, and the tension between us faded.

“Alé,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and strength. “Don’t be a hero. Your life is worth more than whatever crazy shit is happening in this town. Why even do this? What gripe do you have with her anyway?” She took back the cigarette after she finished speaking, taking a long inhale before shuffling closer to me and leaning her head on my shoulder.

It racked my brain whether or not I should tell her, but finally, I did. Chandler knew what I was going to do and she shook her head in disapproval. “Veronica… killed Heather Chandler.” Duke didn't move from my shoulder, but her eyes darted toward me. She placed the cigarette back in my mouth before speaking.

“Ok… And… Not saying she deserved to die or anything but you know. Heather was a huge bitch,” she said unremorsefully.

That wasn't the response I was expecting. I took a deep drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs as I processed her words. I had expected shock, maybe even anger, but her nonchalant attitude threw me off.

“Duke, you don’t understand. Heather was awful, yeah, but murder? That’s a whole different level of fucked” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

She sighed, her breath warm against my neck. “Look, Alé, I get it. But in this town, people like Veronica and Heather… they thrive on power. They use it to manipulate, to control. Heather was no saint, and neither is Veronica. But this is dangerous. It’s not just about avenging Heather. It’s about surviving.”

I stared into the distance, the cigarette burning between my fingers. “I have to do this. For Ruby, for Heather… for me. I can’t just let her get away with it.”

“How do you know that anyway?” she asked, her voice low and cautious.

I exhaled slowly, the smoke curling into the air. “I found evidence. Heather’s ghost… she told me everything. She showed me what happened. Veronica is responsible, and she needs to be stopped.”

Duke pulled away slightly, her eyes searching mine for any hint of deception. “Ghosts? Alé, you’re not losing it?” She said in a joking tone

I shook my head, feeling the weight of the truth settle heavily on my shoulders. “I’m not crazy, Duke. Heather’s ghost is real, and she’s been guiding me. She needs my help to take Veronica down.”

She leaned in, her forehead resting against mine. “Your High aren't you?, You're such a Featherweight.” There was a light-hearted smugness as she spoke.

I peered down at the cigarette we had been sharing. “Duke, did you lace this?” I spoke with a sense of nervous urgency.

“Whoops” She shrugged before laying down on the bench resting her head on my lap, she took back the laced cigarette. “You know this outfit looks really good on you.” she played with the buttons on my shirt while she complimented me.

My bewilderment changed to annoyance then to tiredness. All this nonsense had already been stressing me out beyond what I could handle. “Ughhh… Give me that cigarette back.”

She snickered as I asked for the cigarette handing it to me playfully. I took one last hit before throwing it on the ground and stomping it out.

“AWW bro come on, that was the last one I had.” She pulled herself up from my lap to stare at the cigarette dejectedly.

“We still have 3 classes left after this. We're not doing getting high right now.” I scolded lightheartedly.

She crossed her arms behind her head and laid back down on my lap. “You're no fun.” Everything about her tired and dead behavior disappeared, it was upsetting that this was the only time I'd seen her happy in a while. “ Bells gonna ring soon Alé. Come to my place after school when I'm not fucked up and we can talk about this… situation your in, em k?”

“Works for me Duke”

With those final words, she picked herself up and left.