true colors - jb & ag 《completed》

{eighteen}

The morning following her midnight chat with Justin, Ariana suggested to her mom that Rainn might have issues with a bully, who could possibly take his show-and-tell items and/or push him around. As a result, it was determined that Ariana would walk him to school and Mom would take the afternoon shift—even if Rainn wouldn't admit what was happening.

As she and her brother made their way down Walnut Street, the leaves fell like snow, laying a colorful carpet at their feet. Rainn crunched through the dead foliage, stomping his boots and making roaring noises like a baby T. rex. Ariana fell back and let him clomp his way down the street, sucking in a deep breath of wood-smoke-scented air. She'd lain awake half the night thinking about Cory and Justin and what he'd said before he left her room. Ariana had never believed Justin killed Daniel Turano, accidentally or otherwise. He was a protector. She'd known it from the day she met him when he'd stopped her from jumping her bike over a creek by convincing her that the angle of the ramp wasn't steep enough and she'd end up crashing into the opposite bank. Over the years, she'd watched him go out of his way to help old women carry groceries down the street, stop a kid from taking another kid's lunch money, rescue a pet hamster from a drain pipe—you name it. The kid had been born with a hero complex.

But there had been times she'd doubted what she knew about him. Brief flashes of uncertainty, like when he'd stared laser beams of hate at her when he'd first returned to town. Or when she read that he'd pled guilty to the charges, or when Isaiah, Brayden, and Colin spread their version of the story around school. But Justin had been locked up when Cory died, and suddenly it seemed like too much of a coincidence that the same three boys were involved.

If Justin was right and Cory's death hadn't been an accident, how did the police overlook it? Why? It all circled back to the Kagawa's. Was mild-mannered Isaiah really a psychopathic rage monster?

As they reached the elementary school gates, her own little monster raced to join his friends without so much as a wave good-bye. After making sure he was safely inside the building, Ariana crossed the parking lot and spied Justin speeding away on his bike. She'd been so entrenched in her own thoughts, she hadn't noticed him following them. She smiled to herself as she headed downtown to meet Lisa at Gino's. It was definitely a pumpkin spice latte kind of day.

But later she wasn't smiling anymore. Justin had ignored her, as promised. And even though she knew he was distancing himself because he believed it would keep her and her family safe, what she didn't understand was why he'd attached himself to Penelope like a tattoo. He even went so far as to eat lunch with her and the Yoko Ono twins. Forced to stay inside the cafeteria because of rain, Ariana watched as Yolanda and Ona laughed at Justin's jokes and smiled at him as if they hadn't been bashing him the day before. Then to put the cherry on top, in Music Appreciation Justin asked to switch seats and moved to the opposite side of the room.

Past ready for the day to be over, Ariana closed her binder after History and had begun to gather her things when the teacher called her name.

"Ariana, please see me after class."

Clutching her book bag to her chest, Ariana approached Mrs. Innes's desk. "Yes?"

Ariana wasn't sure why she felt nervous; Mrs. Innes was one of her favorite teachers. Her enthusiasm for history made her class fun, and with her purple pixie hair and diamond-studded nose ring, she felt relatable.

Mrs. Innes finished typing before lifting concerned eyes. "Ariana, I wanted to give you this test back personally because the grade is so uncharacteristic of you." She took out a stapled packet of papers and slid them facedown across her desk. Not a good sign. With a whoosh of light-headedness, Ariana reached for the packet and flipped it over, revealing a fat, red D. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the grade and her name written at the top of the page. It was her paper all right. Slumping into a nearby chair, she admitted to herself that she hadn't studied. But only because she thought she knew the material.