THE ZOMBIE PLAYGROUND

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Brin was used to quiet dinners with her mom, but nothing compared to the silence of death at the roundtable of spaghetti and garlic bread on Friday night. Paul kept his distance from Brin, who had spent most of the day distraught, and confused about what her next move should be. Tessa had her eyes on her cell phone, as if she was concerned Paul might make a grab for it and take off running.

“So, Mrs. Skar,” Paul said, “do you like to golf, too, or—”

Her phone rang before Paul could finish his sentence. She picked it up and took a few quiet steps across the hall. 

“Who’s she talking to, again?” Paul said.

Brin was playing with her food even more than the vampire. While her friend nibbled away at the greasy garlic bread, Brin could only muster up the energy to wrap a noodle around her fork and let it fall back onto her plate.

“One of her friends is best friends with Chace’s mom. She’s been waiting for the details, for the confirmation.”

“Oh.” He put the bread down and crossed his arms. “I’m really sorry, Brin. I wish I could’ve done something. I wish—”

Brin put her hand on top of his. “It’s all right. I know.”

They heard footsteps returning to the kitchen much slower than they had exited the room. Tessa turned off her phone and sat back down in her chair.

“Well?” Brin said.

Tessa nodded. “It was them.”

Brin could feel her throat drying up. She took a sip of water, and as she set the glass down, she had to keep her hands from shaking.

“What else did your friend say?” Brin said.

“She said that Jeanie is torn up, a complete mess. But there have already been talks of funeral services. There’s going to be a small gathering of close family on Sunday, and that a public funeral will be held in a week or so, probably next Saturday.”

“OK,” Brin said. Then she asked a more awkward question, since she already knew the official answer. “Do they know what happened?”

“Not yet,” Tessa said. “There’s an ongoing investigation.”

Brin sighed and looked at Paul. He nodded to her, like he knew it was his turn to speak. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

“It’s not your fault, Paul,” Tessa said. “You weren’t there.”

He opened his mouth, like he wanted to tell her, “actually, I was,” but he shut his mouth and turned his attention back to his food.

“But my daughter was,” she said, after an ultra-long pause. Without warning, Tessa grabbed Brin’s hand and pulled her towards her.

“Mom? What are you doing—”

“Brin, I know you’ve told your side of the story a gazillion times, but please, level with me. Is there anything that you are keeping from me, your school, the police? Is there anything unusual that happened that day that you’re not telling anyone?”

“Mom, of course not—”

“Because if you know something, and you’re keeping it a secret, and someone finds out about it, you’ll be in serious trouble, Brin. I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

“Mom,” Brin said, scooting her chair back. “As if I don’t have enough on my plate. Now you’re saying I might go to prison?”

“Of course not.”