Music Girl

Aravic wasn’t actually sure how he felt about becoming a foster child, let alone Mr. Thyroid’s. He still didn’t even know how he felt being an orphan, but that was because he did his best not to think about it. But this foster thing… well, at least Mr. Thyroid probably wouldn’t beat him or anything. And he’d be living a rather lavish life. But what would happen with Sam? Would their cover be blown if she was now his foster sister? It wasn’t like they’d be actually related, and when Aravic hit eighteen, he wouldn’t need to be actually adopted…

“We won’t be able to spy anymore.”

Sam was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She played absent-mindedly with her hair, which had grown quite a bit since Aravic had first met her. The red was faded and her black hair was almost touching her shoulders and getting in her eyes. The first time he had tried to brush it away from her, she had slapped him, and he hadn’t tried it since.

“I mean, when this tape comes forward, it’ll be dangerous and we won’t ever be able to go back.”

“Yeah,” Aravic replied, clicking away on his laptop. The audio file had been cleaned up quite a bit so you could now hear the voices very well.

“Are you going soon?”

“Yes. This Saturday.”

Sam sat up and swung her legs off the bed, looking down at Aravic. “And what exactly are you going to say?”

“I don’t know.”

“And what about the tape? Are you going to bring forward the watch, too?”

“I don’t know, Sam.”

“They’ll probably ask you to explain everything—”

“Dammit Sam, you think I don’t know this?” Aravic burst out, shoving the computer away in frustration. “You think I haven’t been worrying about this shit?”

“Look, I just… you’ll have to be careful. If I’m involved in the wrong way—”

“I know. Everything will fall to pieces.”

“It’s our only shot.”

“Yes,” Aravic replied, exasperated. “Believe it or not, Sam, I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

-

On Saturday, Aravic took the bus down to the police station. He was extremely nervous, running through his partially invented background story in his mind. He had decided to start recording when he felt something was wrong—Alex had even sent Sam the schematics for the watch in case the police wanted another look. Sam had simply been his key in, nothing more. And why hadn’t he reported it sooner? He wasn’t even sure that this had anything to do with the shooting, but he had a hunch it did.

When he walked in the door, Aravic immediately felt like he was going to puke. The smell of cleaning fluid combined with his nerves made him taste bile in his mouth. He blinked rapidly, swaying on the spot, waiting for the nausea to pass.

“You okay, kid?”

Aravic looked up to see a middle-aged police officer coming out of the back, a concerned look on his chubby face. Aravic gripped the back of the chair, shaking.

“Just… feel a little sick.”

“Sit down, I’ll get you something for it.”

Aravic obeyed and his mind started racing the second the officer left the room. First he would say he knew something, then talk about the assassination, then Antonio… no, Antonio first, then assassination…

“Here, kid.” The man had returned and pushed a misty glass of water in Aravic’s hands. Aravic drank it, grimacing. It tasted like chalk. “What are you even doing here?”

It took two more gulps of the stuff before Aravic could speak. “I—I have information… about… about the assassination.”

The cop blinked a few times before asking stupidly, “President Mull’s?”

“Yes.”

He fumbled around before pulling up a tablet to take notes on. “Tell me everything.”

So he did. It was a sort of therapy, catharsis, whatever you wanted to call it. And he started at the beginning. He talked about wanting to join the Skulls to fit in with his friends, to prove himself to the then-admired Tomas and Antonio. He told him how ever since the church burned down and he had been initiated, he had felt something was off. About going to parties, recording conversations, mulling them over in his free time. When he got to the recording after the election, he presented the thumb drive that held the actual recording. And when he finished with the background check on Antonio and the assassination itself, the cop looked just the way he felt; flabbergasted. Had he really just said all of that? Out loud? To a cop?

“Son… do you realize how serious this is?” the man finally asked, setting the tablet down.

“Yes.”

“We’re going to investigate, and you might have to testify in Federal court.”

“I know.”

He sighed. “What’s your name? I need to get your information.”

“Aravic Mines.”

-

“Tonight, we bring you this stunning update on the assassination of President Ryan Mull. A teenage boy brought to Denver police today an audio recording of the potential assassin. Antonio Arrajiano, twenty-six, was recorded bragging about being offered a job to kill someone and was then in Washington, D.C. during the tragedy. Police have issued a warrant for Arrajiano and ask for anyone with information on his whereabouts to call the tipline.”