Shallow Grave by Alex Van Tol

Chapter One
    â€œThis is awesome,” I say. “Hard-core manual labor is exactly how I planned to spend my Friday after school.”
    With a loser goth weirdo in tow, I think. But I don’t say that part.
    â€œWell, it’s not like I want to be cleaning up the boathouse either,” Shannon shoots back. She claps her mittened hands together as we walk along the gravel road leading away from the school.
    I grunt. Who wears mitts anyway? What is she, five?
    I wonder if her palms are pierced too, or if it’s just her cheek, nose, eyebrow, lip and tongue. And god knows what else.
    I shudder at the thought.
    â€œAnd anyway, I wouldn’t exactly call it hard-core manual labor,” she continues.
    â€œSo sorting through piles of old life jackets and busted paddles sounds like fun to you?”
    She shakes her head. “Not fun. But not hard-core either. Hard-core is hiding the principal’s Smart Car in the woods.”
    â€œNo, that’s what they call stupid,” I say. The late October wind sneaks under the bottom of my hoodie and around my collar, making me shiver.
    â€œIt wasn’t stupid. At least, it wouldn’t have been if those idiots hadn’t rolled it onto my foot. It would’ve been funny.”
    â€œFunny for you, maybe,” I say. “Not so much fun for Mr. Harrison. And not funny for me. You should think twice before pulling dumb pranks that get innocent bystanders in trouble.”
    I can feel Shannon looking at me, but I don’t return her gaze.
    â€œHoly,” she laughs. “Ease down there, Mr. Perfect. I already said I was sorry you got caught up in it. It’s not like I planned for them to roll the car onto my foot. And anyway, I never asked you to come crashing through the bushes to save me, scholar boy.”
    â€œScholar boy?”
    Shannon ignores me. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she says. “And you got in trouble. What’s the big deal?”
    I look at her in disbelief. “Ever heard the term ‘miscarriage of justice’?”
    She shrugs. “Life’s unfair,” she says. Then she gives me a sly smile. “Must be a hard pill to swallow for a rule follower like yourself.”
    â€œSince when is following rules a bad thing? Just because they’re rules?”
    â€œDepends on your reasons for following,” she says. “I think you’re one of those people who does what they’re told because they’ve been brainwashed by the establishment.”
    I stop. “Excuse me?” I’m almost certain I didn’t ask to have my character assaulted. Especially by a freak with purple hair and multiple puncture wounds whose crime I’m about to serve time for.
    Besides. She doesn’t even know me.
    â€œNever mind.” Shannon waves a hand dismissively. She keeps walking.
    I don’t move.
    She turns and looks at me, then sighs. “I apologize, okay? For the millionth time.” Her ultrawhite face and red lipstick look stark against the flat gray sky. She’s dressed in a long black coat. A thick gray scarf winds around her neck. Docs on her feet. Those ugly boots are the only thing that saved her foot. She walked away instead of crawling.
    Maybe I should’ve let her crawl.
    â€œHonestly, Elliot,” she says, “you’re making a huge deal out of this. All we have to do is clean up the boathouse.”
    â€œYeah, and who’s going to clean up my record?” I ask. “I just started at this school two months ago, and already I got a rap.”
    As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn’t. She’ll just chalk it up to me wanting to impress the authorities. I try a different tack.
    â€œBesides, why should those other jerks go free? They ran their little emo asses off when Harrison came. Beat a chickenshit retreat and left you stuck under the car.” I shake my head. “Who does that? They should be here