Hey y’all! Happy Monday Afternoon! For those of you who were wondering where this week’s CYOA chapter was this morning, we made the executive decision to put our March Madness posts up first for the rest of the month for maximum voting excitement. And now you can read CYOA on your lunch break! Everyone wins!
Anywho, last week, you were riding shotgun in Silas’ ridiculous car after receiving a creepy, anonymous, I Know What You Did Last Summer style call on Kayla’s phone, which Silas has now pocketed. You don’t know where the two of you are headed, but you decided to tell him, “Hey, give me Kayla’s phone. I need to check something.” Which is exactly what I would have chosen, because who IS this kid? Where did he even come from? And what does he plan to do with that phone?
You turn to him and stare at the side of his head, his eyes focused on the road as he drives you both ... where? You're not headed toward school or your house. You open your mouth and say, “Hey, give me Kayla’s phone. I need to check something.”
You don’t know why you said that, other than you’re not sure you trust this Silas kid and you want that phone back. Obvious, yes, you would like to trust those dimples and those arms… I mean, seriously, how could someone with those arms be bad? But then you remember that Christian Bale also had great arms in American Psycho, and he fed a kitten to an ATM and—you suddenly become aware of the fact that Silas is glancing at you strangely, and it’s because he’s asked you a question, and instead of answering like a normal person, you chose to undress him with your eyes.
“Huh?!” You splutter. Good one, you think. Really eloquent.
“What is it?” he repeats.
You realize that one of his swoony arms has been holding out Kayla’s phone to you this whole time. Luckily, some part of your brain is still working, because you quickly reply, “Kayla has been missing for weeks. Why does her phone still have battery if it’s been sitting in a pair of pants this whole time? I need to check her text history.”
You take the phone from Silas and punch in the passcode—Kayla’s birthday. You make a mental note to change that, just in case; you don’t want anyone else snooping around.
Opening up the text app, your heart sinks to discover that the last person Kayla texted was you, and that was weeks ago. Below that is Dylan, and underneath Dylan is… Daddy Long Legs? Who the hell is that!? You open up the text and immediately regret it. Who ever this Daddy Long Legs is, it’s clear that he and Kayla were more than just friends based on this fairly graphic exchange. You’ve never been a fan of Dylan, but you also can’t believe Kayla was—is—cheating on him.
“Anything?” Silas asks.
“I… don’t… know. Maybe,” you say tentatively. You punch the number into your contacts to see if it matches, but nothing comes up. With your hands shaking slightly, you press the green button on your phone and wait for the call to connect.
The call goes straight to voicemail, which is both relieving and horrifying as the voice on the other end says, “Hi, you’ve reached Daniel Crane. Please lea—“ You hang up the phone and drop it in horror.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
“What is it?” Silas asks.
“Mr. Crane. Kayla was sleeping with Mr. Crane.”
* * * * *
Somehow, you are sitting in Silas’ bedroom. You don’t really remember the rest of the car ride back to his house because you were too busy trying to banish the REPULSIVE thought of Kayla sleeping with your disgusting and OLD drama teacher. Now you are trying to process the situation. It help that Silas has fixed you a mug of tea, and is currently sitting across from you with the most calming, attractive expression on his face.
“We should go to the police, shouldn’t we?” You ask Silas, remembering your favorite episode of Doctor Who, where one of the characters shouts at a horror movie, “Go to the police, you stupid woman! Why does nobody just go to the police!?”
Silas shakes his head slowly. “First of all, the only proof we have is based on Kayla’s cell phone, which we obtained through breaking and entering. I don’t think the police would appreciate that evidence very much. Second, Kayla’s 18. So even though it’s disgusting and abhorrent and Mr. Crane would definitely, definitely be fired, its not technically illegal. I think it’s time to do a little digging on Mr. Crane, though. Stay here; I’m going to go check in my Dad’s office and see what I can find. As a reporter, he has access to all these different databases.”
As Silas leaves the room, you briefly wonder how he knows Kayla's age, but then remember that it has been listed in all the news articles about her disappearance. You reflect on his logic. It’s not watertight, but you definitely don’t want to explain to the police what you were doing in Kayla’s bedroom either. Maybe it’s best to wait and see what Silas finds on his dad’s computer.
Relaxing a little, you accidentally nudge mouse on Silas’s desk and his monitor lights up. Curiosity overcomes you when you see that iTunes is open, and you immediately head to his top 25 played. It’s a lot of the same indie pop that you listen to, although there is a disproportionately high number of Peter Bjorn & John songs in there. You didn’t even know they had that many songs. You begin to type the band into finder to see how many albums he has, but the first hit is a folder… called “Kayla Peters.”
Opening the folder, the first thing you notice is a subfolder with your own name, Caitlin Landry. There are several other folders, each labeled with names of your friends or Kayla’s parents. Resisting the urge to open them, you pull out the flash drive on your keychain and copy the whole thing. Your heart is racing as the status bar moves at a turtle’s pace. Any second now, Silas will come back.
Finally, the download finishes, you eject the flash drive, and flip back to iTunes. Just in the nick of time, too. You try to wipe the guilty expression off your face as Silas enters the room and says, “you will never guess what I found on Mr. Crane!”
His eyes flick to the lit-up computer, and it's time to test your drama skills by:
Next installment: This Is How You Remind Me