Free Hurt by Travis Thrasher

know.
    Sometimes guys at school will show me dirty texts to some girl and it feels just silly and strange to me. I get it, sure, but I’d rather find someone like Kelsey to tell my real thoughts and feelings to. Sure, there are feelings there that I’d love to one day tell her, or even more, show her. Guy-girl stuff. I’d love for her to know that she really is something special.
    But I guess the way to show that is to be a gentleman.
    Now I’m sounding like Dad.
    I remember him once telling me that. Maybe it’s his voice in my head. I don’t know.
    Deep down I really think I’m a sap. It’s easy to hide it. But with Kelsey, for some reason I don’t want to hide it.
    Which may or may not be a good thing.

21. Ridiculous Timing
    You know how sometimes you’ll be walking toward someone in a crowd and they’re looking your way, but you know for a fact that they’re not really looking at you? Right? This happens after school on Wednesday as I’m walking out the glass doors, talking with Kelsey. We see a woman at the base of the stairs staring up at us. She’s wearing dress pants and a fancy leather jacket and is probably thirtysomething. She looks tough but attractive. She stands out, since very few African Americans work at Harrington.
    Her dark eyes don’t seem to leave me, and I actually start to feel a bit nervous walking down to the parking lot.
    “Chris Buckley?” she calls out.
    I nod.
    She comes up to us. “My name is Diane Banks. Do you have a few minutes?”
    “I’ll call you later,” Kelsey tells me.
    I nod at her and then glance at the woman. I know what she’s about to say.
    It’s something to do with my mom. She relapsed. Or maybe she killed herself.
    “I’m with the FBI,” Diane tells me.
    I almost want to laugh as I wait for more.
    “Can we go back into the school for a few minutes?”
    “What’s this about?” I ask.
    “I will explain inside.”
    She’s no-nonsense, and she appears like a well-put-together business lady. Someone who fits downtown Chicago, not any place around Solitary.
    We go back inside out of the cold, and for a minute I wonder if she’s going to lead me into Principal Harking’s office. Instead, she walks into the first unoccupied classroom and turns on the light.
    “I just want a little privacy,” she says.
    I slowly walk into the room, and she shuts the door.
    “Chris, please, have a seat.”
    “I can stand.”
    She nods, then scans the room before taking out a card and giving it to me.
    “That’s my card,” Diane says.
    “Do you have a badge?”
    “Do you need to see it?”
    I think about it for a moment, then shrug. She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a wallet, then shows me a badge inside.
    “Anybody can reproduce one of these,” she says. “Or can come up with a card. That’s my information on there—my cell phone where you can reach me.”
    Her skin is flawless, like a model or something. I want to tell her she’s too good-looking to be an FBI agent.
    Of course, I don’t.
    “What’s this about?”
    “I’m investigating the disappearance of Jocelyn Evans.”
    It’s been just over a year since Jocelyn died.
    Now someone shows up looking for her?
    No way. I don’t buy this for a second.
    “Do you know anything about her disappearance?”
    I shake my head.
    For a moment I think of Jared.
    Liar.
    Then I think of Lily.
    Actress.
    This lady is no more an FBI agent than some rising starlet in Hollywood working on a new ABC show.
    “Chris, I have been in touch with someone who knows you. She’s the one who first alerted us to this case. Your friend Poe. Moved with her family to Charlotte.”
    Her eyes are unflinching, and she doesn’t appear to be lying.
    You have no idea who’s lying and who’s not.
    “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know Ms. Graham?” a slightly irritated voice asks.
    “No. I know Poe. Sure.”
    “Have you been in touch with her recently?”
    “No.”
    “What about Jocelyn Evans? When was the last time