Grave 1

First 2 chapters of THE GRAVE Book One: The Return...

Monday, Sept. 26th 'Saturday, Oct. 1st

Denisa Lee fastened the snap on her blue jeans, adjusted her Donna Karan shirt, and exited the stall. She moaned inwardly as Amanda Sherwin, clad in her own blue-and-gold cheerleading outfit, turned from her spot at the mirror and smiled kindly at her, an oval make-up compact in her left hand.
It was a syrupy-sweet smile on the lips of little Miss Exotic.
"Hello, Deni, came the affable greeting.
Denisa grinned without mirth, and went toward the farthest washbasin. Only her friends had the privilege of calling her 'Deni,' and the last time she had checked Amanda hadn't been her friend.
"Hey, Amanda, she responded composedly, as she switched on the faucet.
The Ravensbrook rah-rah girl continued to look at herself in the mirror. Honey-gold blonde hair that swept past her shoulders, a shapely body that made all the boys that walked the corridors of Ravensbrook's Ronald Reagan High gawp and drool, and an exotic southeastern European accent to boot . . .
She was beautiful, Denisa had noted, and not for the first time.
. . . Denisa assumed that the accent was either Hungarian or Romanian, but wasn't quite sure. She was not a grade-A student when it came to geography. The sophomore only knew, or guessed, that Sherwin was not or could not be a Romanian surname.
"How are you today? Amanda asked, in that saccharine-sweet voice of hers. Her face was serene and expressionless; a hint of seriousness laced her words.
She sounds like Dracula's niece.
"Doing quite well, thank you. Only a strong force of will and ingrained politeness kept Denisa from rolling her eyes. She did not need any condolences, especially from her. "And you?
"Simply marvelous, came the response, switching instantly and now her words were riding on white-capped waves of bubbliness.
Amanda was immensely popular, no doubt about it. She was captain of the cheerleading squad, and was bound to be nominated for Homecoming queen.
Again!
Amanda glanced appraisingly at Denisa's reflection in the mirror above the sink she was occupying. "Will you be coming to the game on Friday?
Eewwww! God, how Denisa hated that accent!
Denisa wanted to vomit up her hurried breakfast of eggs, buttered toast, half glasses of both milk, and apple juice, but figure it would not be the most sophisticated thing to do. So, instead she switched off the faucet, and snatched a sheet of brown paper towel from the battered metallic dispenser, and began drying her hands instead.
"Maybe. I'm not sure. Which was the truth, although she had no idea why she was carrying on a conversation with Amanda. Why couldn't she just ignore the girl?
"You should. I am sure, it will be nice, she confidently predicted. "Especially the dance afterwards.
A football game being nice? Denisa thought, dubiously. I doubt it!
Ravensbrook would play the worst team within their division that night: the Madison High Tigers. It would be a total massacre out on the football field. More than half the Madison team contained second-stringers, and because of that fact, they'd lost all but two of their games already.
"Yes, Denisa finally replied, noticing the emphasis that Amanda had placed on her last sentence.
Once little Miss Exotic had finished making herself up to be the princess that she always thought she was, she turned on the heels of her snow-white Asics, and tossed a hand through her flowing tresses.
"Hope to see you at the game, Deni, she said, throwing her words over her shoulders, and exiting the girls' bathroom in a most pristine gait.
Now with the door swinging closed, Denisa did roll her eyes, and stuck out her tongue for good measure. And she made a full show of it, too.
To no one in particular, that is, except to her own reflection.
She frowned, as she stared at herself in the mirror.
Being hyper-critical of herself, she figured that her shoulder-length brown hair was nothing to gaze at.
Her face was plain, or so she thought. Soulful brown eyes, a few light freckles dotting her cheeks, a nose that she figured was a bit too thin, and a figure that she wasn't exactly proud of. While no one would mistake her for a boy up close, she was not exactly a Playmate contender, either.
She was just an average-looking girl with extremely long bangs, and so she guessed that was the reason why she was more than a bit envious of Amanda, with her curvaceous body and gorgeous smile and incredible accent.
Denisa stuck out her tongue at her own reflection again, and ran a hand through her straight brown hair. She reckoned that she would one day dye it another color, or at least get it hi-lighted.
Or maybe, Denisa figured, she would try one of those fancy herbal shampoos that cost seven dollars a bottle, the ones on those TV commercials that claimed to "fortify your hair with vitamins and mineral, and give it "bounce. But first she'd shear off these Godforsaken bangs. They were forever getting in her eyes.
She wadded up the paper towel, tossed it into the overflowing wastecan, and left the bathroom, wishing there was something she could do to change who she was . . . and to get someone to notice her again (or so Amanda had so subtly suggested) . . .
Now that Wayne was no longer around.

CHAPTER ONE

Edward Travers, Kimberly Daley, Kamal Narayan, Patricia Gaines, and Jay Laurels. They were seniors and they were ecstatic about their position at the school. There were five of them, and they clung together as if by doing so they could complete the picture of a singular living, breathing organism.
One could see them all together as they strolled down the halls of Ravensbrook Ronald Reagan High, or at the nearby ice-cream shop, or the skating rink, both of which were the local teen-hangout spots in Ravensbrook.
On August 26, the night of the first home game for the Ravensbrook Rattlers, there had been no exception to the First Commandment of the group:
Always stick together no matter what.
Now exactly one month later after that home game (the Kingsbridge Knights had been defeated by a total of six touchdowns), and the horrible events that had transpired afterwards the Incident, most importantly the so-called First Commandment had become the very glue that bonded the five together, and of the secret that all five held deep within their hearts.
The lunchroom was chaotic, but there was silence at their table as they ate. A circular one at the far end of the cafeteria, tucked away in the corner.
"I had another dream, abruptly admitted Kimberly Daley, chewing on a cold and gummy muffin. Her blue eyes were staring at her lunch tray, each compartment still filled with food. She dared not steal a look at the rest of the group.
Kamal sat on her left (at the eight o'clock position), directly in front of her own six o'clock was Edward, the back of his chair against the wall. Jay was sitting at the four, and Patricia was seated at the two o'clock spot.
One of them sighed heavily, and Kim heard a plastic Spork clatter loudly against a nearby aluminum tray. She assumed it was Kamal. Short-tempered Kamal.
Amongst the earsplitting bedlam that was the school's cafeteria, bespectacled Jay Laurels spoke up, while opening his milk carton. "What's wrong with you, Kim? he asked harshly, his eyes smoldering. He took a long swig, but didn't allow the carton to obstruct his view of her.
"I can't help it if I had a dream, Jay! she snapped back, finally looking up at him and then the others. She kept her eyes on Patricia, hoping the red-haired girl would back her up on this. But to Kim's dismay, Patricia remained silent.
"Quiet, you two! hissed Edward Travers, placing a Sporkful of black-eyed peas into his mouth. The cafeteria was as loud as possible with shouting, uproarious laughter, hurried and stomping footsteps, dropped trays and so forth no one could have possibly overheard them even if they had wanted to, but Edward still didn't like taking chances.
Especially not with a matter such as this.
Kamal Narayan shot Edward a dark look, before adding: "Do you have to keep bringin' up this whole matter, Kim? It's been a month now! You wanna blow it for the rest of us?
Kim had trouble swallowing the steel ball bearing that had once been a doughy wad of her muffin. "I'm sorry, you guys, she said timidly, her voice beginning to crack. "I'm just . . . just . . . .
"You just need to cool it! interrupted Kamal, eyeballing the petite blonde with a near-savage force. "And I mean it!
Tears began to stream down her face as she felt the grueling gaze behind Jay's glasses hammer down upon her. She slowly reached for her Styrofoam cup of sweetened iced tea, thought better of it, then picked up the edges of her aluminum tray, and rose to her feet.
Edward's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist gingerly, just above her Swatch. He caught her blue eyes with his own stunning slate-grays. They held each other's gaze motionless, as the entire table seemed to hold its collective breath.
One seconds . . .
. . . two seconds . . .
. . . three seconds . . .
Something strange was happening here, the others noticed. Something uncanny, but also incredible.
. . . four seconds . . .
. . . five . . .
. . . six . . .
Dangerously remarkable, but mesmerizing as well. Stunningly significant. Unspoken words were being communicated by this contact that they both had, unbroken by the unceasing clamor within the lunchroom, or by either of them blinking. Because of the fact that neither dared to do so.
"Stay, Edward finally voiced, breaking the spell. He slowly let go of her wrist. "Please.
Kim nodded gradually, blinking her eyes rapidly, as if under a hypnotist's enchantment.
"Okay, she mumbled, seemingly more to herself than to Edward, who was settling himself back into his hard-backed chair. "I will.
"Good, Edward said. "Now let's all finish eating. In peace, can we? And we'll discuss all this after school. At my place.
There was silence among the five.
They each felt Edward's cool and calm eyes sweep over them. "Just chill out everyone, okay? he suggested, his voice even and smooth. It carried over the clatter of the lunchroom well, to meet the ears of the five and to no one else. "We'll get through this. Some kind of way, we'll get through this.

Kimberly Daley headed toward the library; her head hung low, her satchel dangling precariously from her fingertips. All about her tacked onto a vast bulletin board were various announcements. Three caught her eye in passing: one was for Fall Portrait Day, the other informed the student body of the Halloween Dance that would take place the day after Homecoming, and then the Homecoming festivities themselves.
She heard footsteps behind her.
And then an arm wrapped itself around her shoulders.
She looked up and toward her right, stopping in her tracks. It was Edward Travers: close-cropped brown hair, iron-gray eyes, and flawless teeth. Oxford dress shirts and creased slacks were his preferred way of neatly attiring himself, never ever in baggy jeans and a generic T-shirt like everyone else.
"Hi, he said, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. "Are you going to be okay?
She smiled weakly. "Yeah, I will.
Edward did not believe her, but nevertheless, he nodded anyway, and dropped his hand from her shoulder. "Where are you headed to?
"Media center.
She stared at him, as she had often stared at him, and wondered how he managed to keep such a stable demeanor.
Nothing seemed to faze him.
She had never seen Edward allow raw emotion to get the best of him. He had always been that way ever since she had known him, and that had been only since the past summer when she'd first moved to Ravensbrook.
"I'll walk you there, he offered. The two resumed their walk abreast, matching one another stride for stride. "Tell me of your dream.
"No, I don't think so. She shuddered involuntarily, as she remembered the nightmare.
A three-second pause occurred just then that seemed like eternity.
"Okay, I won't push you, he promised. "But if you need to talk about things, you know I'm here, right?
"Yes.
"Good.
They walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the door, Edward put a firm hand on her shoulder. "Hey, everything will be fine, Kim, he assured her, or tried to.
She nodded simply, eyes cast downward at the toes of her sneakers.
"Look at me.
She did so. Looked upon his gray eyes, noticed the strong outline of his jaw.
"Don't worry, okay.
"Okay, she mumbled.
He lifted the hand off her shoulder and ran it through her thick blonde hair. It framed her face naturally, curling underneath her pierced earlobes. Normally, he didn't go for girls with short 'dos, but on her it looked really cute, enticing.
Attractive.
He took a half step forward, bent down slightly and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "We have to stick together through this, Kim. All of us. If one of us starts to fray, then the entire rope begins to unravel. Do you understand me?
"Yes. And she did, too. "I'm sorry about all this, she apologized in a near whisper. "It's just . . . so hard on me.
"It's hard on all of us, Kim, but we have to be strong. He checked his watch. "The tardy bell will ring soon, and I'll be late for the remainder of fifth period. But just swing over by my place after school, and we'll talk everything over.
There was a pause.
"Is that okay? he asked, curling a tendril of her hair around two of his fingers. It irked him at times that he had to be so gentle with Kim, like a baby.
"Yes, Edward, she responded weakly. "It's good.
"Good girl. He grinned, again showing perfect teeth. And with that he opened the library's door for her, and began heading back the opposite way.
The tardy bell sounded just then, bounced off walls, lockers, and closed doors alike.
He stopped in his tracks and turned around.
Kim was standing at the doorway, staring at him.
"Everything will be okay, he promised one final time, and then disappeared down the hall.

They all congregated in the basement of his parents' tri-level townhouse. Edward's folks were still at work, and the house was silent except for the air conditioner clicking on and off at pre-set intervals. Summer-like weather was still in effect, even this late in September. Bright cerulean skies, an absence of clouds, and a bright golden sun. It was a rarity, and no one was complaining.
"Where's Kamal? asked Patricia to no one in particular. She had been sitting on the plush white leather sofa, toying with a loose thread on the fraying cuff of her Perry Ellis jacket ever since coming in.
That had been five minutes ago.
Across from her sat Kim and Edward, on the matching loveseat. Jay Laurels stood in the corner, near the TV set, smoking a cigarette.
Edward had been giving him nasty looks ever since he had lit up the Winston, but Jay had been ignoring him. He knew the rules by now: no smoking in the house. But Patricia knew that Jay had been purposefully pushing his buttons ever since Edward had slugged him on the night of the Incident.
She figured that Jay's pride had been wounded more so than his face, and this was his way of vindication.
The sliding glass door was rolled back on its track just then, and a dark-skinned guy with curly black hair and strikingly smoky blue eyes entered, his suede jacket thrown over one shoulder.
"Sorry, guys, I'm late. Mr. Hogans kept me a bit longer than I thought he would've, Kamal apologized, scanning the faces of the other four. Then added: "That rat.
He took another step through the door, and was about to slide it shut, when Edward asked him to leave it open.
Jay smirked around the cigarette. He figured he had won that round.
"Sure thing, replied Kamal, padding his way over towards Patricia. "How's it going, Jay? Pat? Edward?
They all murmured greetings in unison.
He plopped down alongside Patricia, tossing his jacket along the arm of the couch. "So, what's up? he asked, just as a blast of warm September wind blew into the basement, fluttering the beige curtains.
Jay sauntered across the floor towards the open door, tossed out the butt, and slid the door closed.
"First things first, he growled, turning around to face the others and throwing a piercing glance toward Kim's way. "We'd better figure out what the hell's going on!
"Yeah, chimed in Kamal. "What's the deal?
Edward put a reassuring hand on Kim's knee. "What do you mean? he asked, directing the question not to Kamal, but to Jay.
The slim teenager's eyes turned to slits behind his lenses, and he shoved a free hand into the pocket of his jacket to remove a pack of fresh Winstons. "Don't give me that garbage, Edward, you know full well what I mean. Whose side is she on, anyway?
Kamal looked to Jay and Edward, and coughed into his palm. "He has a point there, Edward, he said, before Edward could remark. The Indian's un-accented voice was soft as velvet, his blue eyes warm and vibrant. "I saw Kim last week talking with that girl, getting all buddy-buddy with her.
Kim said nothing to defend herself. That girl. As if Denisa had no name; a nonentity. A cipher.
"What were you talking to her about, Kim? asked Jay, repeatedly smacking the pack of Winstons against the open palm of his other hand. "Huh?
Patricia could see where this was going and fast. "C'mon, guys, she appealed, sighing as she said it. She mimicked Edward's earlier motion, and laid a restraining hand on Kamal's knee.
"Whose side, Kim? Kamal asked, his face growing taut, oblivious of Patricia's gesture. "Feeling like spilling the beans on everything? Having us all put away for the rest of our natural lives?
The strip of cellophane wrapping was torn from the pack of cigarettes. Jay knocked one out into his awaiting hand. The smokes disappeared back into his jacket pocket. "Answer the dude, Kim!
Silence came from Kimberly, but her bottom lip quivered nervously.
Edward kept his gaze on the two young men.
"Guys, please! Patricia protested, but she knew her pleas for calm would go unheeded. "Let her alone!
Kamal turned his eyes towards Patricia, who was eyeing Jay with the utmost horrid fascination in her eyes.
"Are you serious? he asked, momentarily succeeding in getting her attention. "If Kim is so torn up by guilt that she has to keep on talking to that girl in the halls, in class . . . you wanna know what's gonna happen next? She'll begin to tell her the entire story. And where does that leave us?
"Yeah, remarked Jay, making a long show of lighting up his cigarette just to see the look on both Patricia and Edward's face. He leaned against the curtained glass door. "You won't feel so righteous when you're in prison, will you, Kim?
Edward shifted on his spot on the loveseat, and let out an audible sigh. "This is getting tiresome, guys, he declared. "We all know what happened, and we all promised to keep a tight lid on this, didn't we?
They all answered, save for Kim.
Edward slid from the loveseat, and knelt down in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Didn't we, Kim? he asked soothingly, making direct eye contact.
She shook her head, but remained silent.
"Didn't we, Kim? he echoed.
Silence.
Edward got to his feet, focusing his attention on the others. "And since we promised to keep this thing under wraps, can we please try to do so? Because if we don't, someone boy or girl will slip up and say something that they'll regret later on. By being careless, they won't only endanger themselves, but everyone else. And all this bickering is getting us nowhere fast, except maybe into separate cells.
He paused, and Jay tossed out his half-smoked cigarette.
"So, listen, please, let's try to keep things cool, he turned towards Kim, who was busy with her head down sniffling. "And, Kim, try to keep your distance from that girl, okay? She may not know anything; she may begin to suspect. Who knows? But I don't like to even think that she does. Because if she does, then it's over. Everything. Do you understand me?
Sobs from Kim only.
"Do you understand me? He didn't raise his voice as he repeated his question, but he enunciated every word slowly, as if he were addressing to a two-year-old.
"Yeah, she mumbled between sniffs.
"Good. See that you do, he stated in an almost-whisper, sitting back down. His exhalation was as thick as the palpable tension in the air. "For God's, no, for our sakes, Kim, please see that you do.

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