"The cops are here for her."
"What did she do?"
"I always knew this quiet kid was a badass."
Claire ignored all the looks thrown her way. Some stared at her curiously, others stared at her with a mix of fear and disgust.
They had no idea why the police were looking for her, but she knew it had nothing to do with crime and here they were criticizing her and nailing her coffin even before she was sentenced.
With her head held high, Claire knocked calmly on the principal's office, putting on a brave face.
"Come in."
She grimaced at the gruff voice as she turned the doorknob. Her heartbeat increased when she saw the cops.
"Ms. Ryes." The principal nodded at her.
She gave the policeman and woman a tight-lipped smile and nodded timidly at the principal.
Principal Jenkins had a way of intimidating students with his burly shape, protruding stomach, and bald head. His blank face always had glasses sitting atop his nose protecting his grey eyes. These features made him scary and a caricature of the school.
She stood beside the door, looking around the office that was airy and stacked with lots of files and books on the shelf. The table was clean and spacious with only a single document and a pen.
She found the policewoman scrutinizing her like she was a criminal while the policeman gave her a sympathetic look mixed with confusion.
She could sense the dominant aura in the room: suspicion.
"What is going on here, Principal Jenkins?" She was amazed at how stable her voice sounded even though she was dying on the inside.
"Ms. Ryes…"
She interrupted him sharply, "Claire is just fine."
The principal gave her a sharp look to let her know he didn't appreciate being interrupted.
"Ms. Ryes," he said again, eying her curiously, daring her. She broke eye contact and allowed him to continue.
"These lovely inspectors are here to see you," he finished with a self-satisfying smirk.
Pathetic, she sneered.
"I don't have any business with the law. I'm not even legal yet," she snapped. They were starting to irritate her, and she rarely gets irritated.
"Calm down, Ms. Ryes. You don't have to be worried unless you have a reason to," the female cop smiled at her.
In her opinion, she could see the suspicious look through her smile.
"Do you have anything to tell us, Ms. Ryes?" the male cop asked, squinting to get a closer look at her.
"Okay, for fuck’s sake, my name is Claire, and second, can somebody tell me what is going on here?"
She was almost losing it, but she took a deep breath to calm down.
"You said she doesn't talk, Jenkins," the policewoman said with a hint of amusement.
"She doesn't talk to anyone in school, Nicole," her principal replied with a shrug.
They were discussing her like she wasn't there. They talked about her social life in school like she hadn't tried making friends. They joked about her fucking dress code like she hadn't tried to improve this year.
What was wrong with people?
She was done being kicked around; she was done being overlooked by people. She would…
What are you going to do about it, Claire? A tiny voice asked in her mind.
Nothing, she whispered.
That's what I thought, the voice snapped.
"Ms. Ryes!"
She blinked back the tears and glanced at the policewoman.
"Claire. Please, call me Claire."
She hated how broken her voice sounded, but she couldn't help it. Deep down, she knew something was wrong, and she was upset because she couldn't stand up for herself.
The policewoman's brown eyes softened.
"Claire, I'm so sorry we've been inconsiderate. It's just that we don't know how to go about the investigation."
Claire's brow scrunched up in a frown. "What investigation?"
The police officers shared a look with principal Jenkins.
"Your parents are dead, Claire," the policewoman replied in a tone that stated she was supposed to know.
Claire stared at them and burst into laughter.
"Nice try, guys. I know I'm weird, but I don't like expensive jokes."
The policeman blinked. "It's true."
Claire looked around the room as she saw the sober expression on their faces. They weren't joking—her parents were truly dead?
"M-my parents are d…?"
She trailed off unable to finish the words. The small nod and sympathetic look the female police officer gave her made her come undone.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down as she pictured her parents arguing about the choice of her clothes. Her mom's green eyes flashing with shock at her outrageous hoodie and her dad's warm blue eyes as he tried to stifle his chuckles giving her a thumbs-up.
The hole in her heart widened when she realized why the police officers were there.
"You think I killed them."
It wasn't a question; it was a statement said with so much disgust it made them shiver.
"All the evidence points to you, Claire." The woman sighed.
She scoffed. "What evidence? Who killed my parents?"
"They died exactly five seconds after you left the house for school, and you called us saying you had a bad feeling that we should check up on your parents," the policeman replied, bringing out his phone.
Claire gasped as she saw her number displayed on his phone. The number was dialed exactly five seconds after she left the house.
"B-but I didn't make any call," she stuttered.
"Phone, Claire."
She pulled out her phone and handed it to them, hoping that maybe her phone was hacked.
It was working perfectly well and recorded that she had called them immediately after leaving the house.
"This doesn't make any sense," Claire said.
"Yeah. Why would you kill your parents?" the policeman asked.
"I didn't kill them!" she snapped, "I was driving to school wondering why Mom wouldn't allow me to be homeschooled."
"But you made breakfast. The same breakfast they were eating when they both collapsed," the policewoman said giving her a pointed look.
Claire chuckled bitterly. "I woke up late. Didn't even have breakfast, and I’ve never made breakfast. What are you talking about?"
"Perhaps this note will refresh your memory," the woman said, handing a note sealed in a bag marked as Evidence A.
She squinted and could make out the words written on it.
Mom, dad I'm off to school. I made breakfast, enjoy.
love, Claire.
She couldn't even remember leaving this note, but the handwriting was unmistakably clear. It was her writing.
Trembling slightly, she sat down on the chair without waiting for the principal's reaction. At this point, she couldn't care what he thought.
She had just been informed that her parents were dead and now she's also a suspect. They were convinced she killed them.
She was supposed to feel something close to pain, but all she felt was anger. How dare they accuse her of murder without giving her time to mourn her loss?
"This isn't fair," she mumbled.
"The world isn't fair either, kid. Now, you better start talking else you'll be spending your eighteenth birthday in jail," the policeman sneered.
"I didn't kill my parents," she mumbled.
"Alright. We're done here, Nicole," the policeman exhaled, standing up. "Let's hope the killer surfaces magically before we finish our investigation."
"Can I see my parents?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"I'm sorry, but that can't happen. You might compromise the investigation," the policewoman replied.
"How cruel can you guys be?" she exclaimed. "I just want to see my parents."
"You didn't think of that when you killed them?" the policeman taunted.
Claire took a step back, shocked.
"From today onwards, Claire, you're not allowed out of this town till the investigation is over, and we've caught the culprit. If you leave, you will get arrested. You are to keep coming to school regularly, so the school authorities will keep an eye on you. Arrangements will be made to take you to a foster home because you are not allowed to stay without a guardian when you're not eighteen…"
On and on, the policewoman kept talking, but Claire wasn't listening. All she could think of was how she would never see her parents again.