MASTERPIECE.

          Following her cue, he starts walking in the direction she pointed towards. He isn’t surprised when DJ brings up the Spring Celebration; that fight between Red Johnson and Mayor Daniels seems to be on everyone’s lips since the event. “Yeah. The gym sent me, actually. I’m guessin’ you were there too.” He shoots her a small, rueful grin. “I went in there thinking, I’ll talk to some people, get them signed up for trial sessions, eat some pie, whatever. Didn’t expect something like that to happen. It was scary,” he adds, hands stuck in the pockets of his bomber jacket, his tone growing distant as he recalls the scene. Maybe it has been a long time coming, but the sense of community, the trust, the thread holding the town of Wade together ―- he can see it thinning. And if his suspicions are correct—and they usually are—this is only the tip of the goddamn iceberg.

          The dark settles around them, with that dry Illinois chill creeping into his bones. Street lights have been turned on, but only few dot the path they walk; it takes some time for his eyes to adjust. Is it colder than usual tonight?

          “So, uh, you been reading anything interesting lately?” he asks, conversational, knowing her to be an avid reader. Collecting random information from books and websites and videos to be piled up in that mind of hers. Which signals something, he thinks, because she’s a born-and-raised Wadian (a word that has recently entered into his vocabulary) who’s staying in Wade, despite possessing the obvious means of getting out: her brains.

          He is about to mention this book he’s been meaning to read, a translated collection of short sci-fi stories by Chinese writers (which has been sitting in his―yes, Richard’s―Amazon cart for eternity, frankly), but something in the corner of his eye stops him. A flash of a light, coming from the patch of woods they’re walking past.

          “Yo, did you see that?” he asks abruptly, scanning the trees. It’s gone now. A cat?

"The gym?” Those words had escaped DJ before she could stop herself. Was she really surprised that a gym would take the opportunity to do some advertising in a place they knew would be packed with both teens looking to get in shape and bored PTA moms looking to score the next hot widower? The more she thought about it, the more DJ began believing that she would be more surprised if she hadn’t seen a gym PR stunt at the Spring Celebration. Granted, Red might have ruined it. “Well,” DJ began, feeling a sort of teasing tone creep into her next words, trying her hardest to hide the smirk that was growing on her lips, “did you at least sign any bored old people for some classes?”

DJ wrapped crossed her arms over her chest, cursing herself for not wearing a jacket. She knew how cold nights in Wade could become and yet, there she was, using nothing but a bordeaux sweatshirt that she decided was her favorite for the day. 

At Tyler’s question, DJ’s gaze went from her dirty sneakers to him. “Hmmm,” she hummed, both in thought about what she had read last and debating whether or not to say the truth or choose something that would be more relatable, more interesting, “I’m reading,” rereading, really, “Brief Answers to the Big Questions. Stephen Hawkin’s book. Not that interesting.” DJ shrugged as she looked away, before letting a half-awkward, half-humorless chuckle. 

Just as she was about to look at Tyler again, waiting for an answer, she was greeted by a reaction that came unexpectedly. DJ’s eyebrows furrow, the crease between them still present as she looks at where Tyler appeared to be looking at, and then back at him. “See what?” 

Her eyes stop on the line of trees again. The thought of disembodied eyes began creeping in the back of her mind, though she always shrugged that possibility off --- she was young, with an overactive imagination. “If it was just like... eyes or something, it was probably just deer. There’s been a lot of them lately.”

where: the convenience store who: @daisyjcnes & rosalyn white

The funeral had been a bust — more than that, it had turned into something else for the people of Wade to talk about, to speculate on like they were experts themselves on all aspects of mystery and death. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so sad, so pathetic. And, considering the little that Rosalyn had learned from reading over that autopsy report, Josie’s body disappearing happened to be in line with all of the weird.

She’d visited the convenience store, anxious to restock her white wine collection that had unexpectedly run low. After the day thus far, she had the sneaking suspicion that she was definitely going to need it, whether or not she ended up going to the Conifer Lounge like she planned with Daphne. Standing in line, Rosalyn tapped his foot impatiently as the cashier carried on a useless conversation, turning her head to the side absent-mindedly before locking eyes with none other than DJ. “Can you believe this guy? Like, save your conversations for your fucking break,” she muttered, shaking her head before changing the subject. “Quite the show this morning, huh?” It’d be weird if she didn’t bring it up; it was on everyone’s mind.

Carrying far too many snack packs in her arms, DJ felt herself slip into autopilot as soon as she stepped foot in the convenience store ---- she had one goal in mind: get enough drinks and enough snacks to get through that night (which promised to be as long as possible). The funeral, and the fact that it wasn’t quite a funeral, to begin with, had taken a toll on DJ. She still wasn’t sure in what way and she knew she’d never quite figure it out; not because it was that complicated but because she’d go to immense lengths to avoid thinking about it. 

Rosalyn’s voice came as a sort of horn, calling her back to reality. DJ had to do a double-take. “Honestly, I can believe it. It’s not the first time he’s done this. He gets really chatty sometimes.” Including with me. “Yeah...” That last word left DJ’s lips with a struggle, a small and humorless chuckle coming afterward. She tried to make it seem like the funeral hadn’t influenced her current humor. “It was weird and... unexpected and all sorts of things. Can’t believe someone did that to Josie and Red.”

      “Caskets ain’t cheap, so if someone did that they’d still have to have deep pockets.” Last Etta checked it was a couple grand for a coffin these days, and that was the cheapest one she found. Her hand slips into the cloth of the table beneath and she knocks upwards but no secret door reveals itself. “Just because someone might lose their job doesn’t mean they won’t risk it. There’s numerous reasons they would. Blackmail, a need for money, to scratch an adrenaline craving, etcetera.” Etta has a million ideas running through her head and can almost feel the migraine coming on so pops her pills out of her purse and swallows two dry before tossing them back in her bag. “Someone’s covering shit up. This town shouldn’t be as hot as it is with all the shade they’re creating.”

"I mean, if they’d go all the way and steal a dead body,” DJ began, after letting out a sigh and realizing just how bad someone had to be to do what she was about to say, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to buy a casket just to try and get away with it.” Usually, Etta and her talked about Etta’s articles or whatever else the other decided to right. But this conversation? It was heavier, more personal ---- it was about Josie and Josie’s dead body. Just having that thought made her uncomfortable. “But... it’s Josie, Etta. Why would anyone want to do that to her? Or Red?” Not even DJ’s brain could figure that out. “Covering what up? I mean it’s Wade... It’s just a boring old town.”

( ✉ → sexy einstein ): i’ll have to come over so we can Frankenstein some cereal  ( ✉ → sexy einstein ): i imagine cinnamon toast crunch & honey nut cheerios would prob taste pretty good together ( ✉ → sexy einstein ): u could always come help me out at the radio station  ( ✉ → sexy einstein ): you can press all the buttons on the soundboard 

It was dark. Really, really dark. As the leaves and the branches cracked underneath DJ’s feet, with each step that she took towards the outside of the search perimeter in the back of the Kane’s funeral home she had outlined in her own mind, her phone torched shined all around and then at her feet. Why did I think this was a good idea?

Each time DJ thought she’d seen something, found anything that could tell her and the rest of the group something about what happened to Josie’s body, it would either be just a trick her mind played in her eyes or something as useful as her search at night, in a very, very dark area. 

And then, DJ heard a crack! that didn’t belong to any of her steps. She turned on her heels. “Anyone there?” DJ called out, shining her light towards the place where she thought she had heard the sound come from.

Maddie: Oh god please don't make me worry about zombies on top of everything else

Maddie: But at least if it was a film there'd be some kind of neatly tied-up ending

Maddie: I just can't see that at all

DJ: zombies aren't possible so don't worry!!! only ant zombies have been technically real

DJ: or it would be one of those movies like inception where the ending is not rlly known

This was nice. George hadn’t been over to DJ’s house in years–at one point, it had been like a second home to her. The duo had done everything from playing Monopoly at sleepovers to smuggling champagne through the bedroom window to get sloshed on New Years Eve. History, of course, was bound to repeat itself at some point. 

“Delicious.” She replied, accepting the glass with a smug face. George waited for DJ to take a sip first, chuckling at her immediate response. “Okay, it can’t be that bad.” She promptly brought the cup to her lips, choking as soon as the liquid hit her throat. “Okay, no, you’re right, it’s terrible.” George sputtered, sticking out her tongue in disgust. 

At DJ’s question, she grinned. George made her way over to the other girl’s closet, already familiar with the layout. “Okay, the look we’re going for tonight is what I like to call the stealthy criminal. We have two shades of black.” She dangled the items of clothing in front of her. “A nice charcoal, and it looks like ebony, maybe?” George was speaking in her native tongue–sarcasm. “Honestly, I think you’d look hot in the ebony.” Very hot.

Everything negative or slightly less good, really, that DJ had been feeling that day had seemingly been left outside of her bedroom. As she hung out there, with George, everything in her mind that had been threatening to drag her down had been momentarily erased. And it felt good. With George, it felt right.

DJ let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “It’s that bad, you’ll see,” she replied with a smirk. Only seconds after, there was a certain sense of pride at being proved wrong --- even if she wished the wine tasted better and not like it had been opened for weeks already. “Told you! When are you going to realize, I am always right?” DJ teased, adding an overdramatic smugness to her words. 

After taking another sip of the wine, DJ then stood up and put the glass down on her desk before going over to George. “You’re weirdly excited about dressing up as a criminal.” DJ looked at her friend with a smirk. Then, she looked at the items, chuckling at George’s comment. “You think?” DJ tilted her head, looking at the items of clothing. “Or is that the shitty wine talking? Should I try it on? And what are you going to wear? We both need to look hot.” Though it won’t be hard for George to look hot in anything.

     Patch is sitting out on his doorstep, the door behind him wide open while his bare feet meet tarmac. There’s a whiskey bottle between his legs as he plays wanted dead or alive on his harmonica. He’s pretty sure he’s going to be the next murder victim in Wade since he can feel his neighbours glares from here. He doesn’t know how long he has been sat here, he also didn’t know how much Josie’s whole funeral would affect him.

Body? Gone. Culprit? Unknown. Wade? A Shambles. While he use to complain Wade was boring when he was younger, he now longs for it. It feels like the building blocks of his foundation has been shaken by everything and he’s not too fond of it. Considering Patch feels like he barely keeps it together anyway. He stops his harmonica playing to simply wet his lips with some whiskey before going back to the instrument.

If there’s one thing Patch has learned, drinking makes can numb you for a little while and that’s his goal tonight. He fully expects to spend the night alone, a usual for the musician since he tends to push people away. But one thing you can’t push away? Family. Patch won’t admit it but he sighs in relief at the sigh of DJ, and is quite glad he moved the harmonica from his lips before he did so. He moves over on his doorstep to leave DJ some room and takes a swig of his whiskey.

     “What drags you out here, old sport?” @daisyjcnes​

After the funeral, DJ didn’t know where to go. For a few minutes, as she walked away from the funeral home, she had no idea where she wanted to go. She still remembered how it felt, as the news of the coffin being empty ran through the rows and rows of people that had come to Josie’s funeral ---- the moment the words hit her ears, DJ swore everything around her had been placed at the end of a tunnel and she was standing on the opposite end. Every word, every sound had become muffled and for a few heartbeats DJ swore she felt everything and nothing at the same time. Her hands began sweating, her heart began racing, a lump so big appeared on her throat --- big enough to make her feel like she was choking on nothing. 

And then, something snapped DJ out of it. Whether it was someone’s voice, a specific word, or her brain finally becoming overwhelmed by everything in her mind that it wanted a break from itself. Everything between that moment and the one she finally walked away from the funeral home was a blur to her ---- DJ had kicked into autopilot and that had brought her all the way over to her brother’s home. Even when she wasn’t truly thinking, DJ knew herself well enough to know that she needed her brother. Even if it was just to stand near him. 

There was a small --- albeit slightly sad --- smile as DJ heard Patch’s voice. “Hey,” she began, though casually, there was a certain weight to the way she dragged herself towards where Patch was sitting. “Just... Y’know.” DJ let out a small sigh as she sat down next to him. Her knees were bent all the way to her chest and her arms were rested on top of them. Her eyes took a peek at Patch’s bottle of whiskey, but she didn’t want to ask for it lest it started a line of questioning she wasn’t ready to answer. “Josie’s funeral was... something.” The whole ordeal seemed cursed. 

Henley’s smile feels easier and easier the more it spreads across her lips. She finds herself chuckling, joining in with DJ’s enthusiasm as her emotions swing up and down, making Henley feel as light and airy as a child on a seesaw.

“Scout’s honour,” she replies, holding up three fingers with her thumb crossed over her pinky. Not that Henley ever was in the scouts, but whatever. “I’d love that! For sure. D’you– here.” She pulls out her phone, opening up a new contact for DJ to type in her number.

Just as the device slides along the table, Henley hears her name being called out. She glances up, catching sight of one of the servers gesturing toward a bulky, steaming paper bag. “Oh, thank you!” she calls, rising to grab it.

“I should go,” she says upon returning to DJ’s table. “I’ll call, or, like, text you, and we can definitely arrange something, though, right?”

The more DJ talked to Henley, the more she found herself yearning for conversations that were as light and easy as the one she was carrying with the blonde. DJ knew, deep down, that every time a conversation felt any different from the one she was having at that moment, it was her own fault --- her own mind’s fault.

“Scout’s honor is pretty binding, so I guess I have to believe you,” DJ joked, shaking her head slightly at her attempt at a humorous retort. “Oh, right.” She took the phone and typed in her phone number, leaving the name empty so Henley could type whatever she wanted. 

Her attention was momentarily grabbed by the server calling Henley’s name and DJ took one last look at the phone to confirm her number before giving it back to her friend. “Here.” DJ gave Henley a little smile. 

“Yeah, go, yeah.” She nodded, looking up at Henley. “Call me, text me and we can talk, for sure.”

Something uncomfortable twists in Henley’s gut. Her chest tightens, throat feeling dry and scorched, each breath an itchy scrape that forces a quiet cough out of her. She drops her gaze from where it had fallen trapped on Jay and Tommy, staring instead at some of the skeletal leaves crunching under their feet. Remnants of autumn, a small voice inside her faintly supposes.

It takes a second for her to realise that Jaylen’s calling back at her.

“Hm? Oh,” she mumbles, speeding her pace to catch up with them, Daisy in tow. “Swap?” Henley keeps her eyes on the whiskey, on the Oreos in her bag– anything to avoid looking either man in the eye right now.

As soon as the alcohol’s secured in her grip, Henley takes a swig. It’s a comfort she’s used to resorting to. Most likely not the best of ideas, but… fuck it.

(@daisyjcnes·)

DJ rolled her eyes at Tommy’s words. “Sure you did.” She tried to hide the smirk on her lips. 

Whether it was for something good or something bad, DJ was observant. Sometimes, she wished she wasn’t; then, the underlying tension between the present group of people would fly under her radar. 

DJ looked at Tommy and Jaylen and then back at the girl whose arm she had her own linked with. “I hope you plan on sharing a little bit of that.” There was a smile through which those words had been said. 

Then, she looked at the other two. “How far away is the clearing again? And what exactly are we hoping to find?”

Maddie: Oh god for sure

Maddie: I can't even imagine how awful he must be feeling rn

Maddie: He deserved a proper funeral after all this crap

DJ: if zombies were real, i'd be terrified

DJ: whatever's happening, red doesn't deserve it

tommy: cause it was my fault haha

DJ: you guys kissed, you didn't burn his house down

tommy: does it matterrrr

tommy: as long as he's not mad then it's fine right?

Maddie: Oh god for sure

Maddie: I can't even imagine how awful he must be feeling rn

Maddie: He deserved a proper funeral after all this crap

DJ: who would do something like this?