8 Entry #8: Sketch

After I scanned my fingerprint in the biometrics, I went inside the gate.

"Jas!"

I looked around.

"Nick!" I called back.

He was in the hallway, leaning on a post as if he was waiting for someone.

I was surprised Nick came earlier than me. At this hour, there were only a few students in the school.

I secretly ran a quick stare at him from head to foot. He had clean-cut hair, an ironed-flat uniform, and shiny no-place-for-dust black shoes.

Objectively, Nickle looked like he was modeling the junior high school boys' uniform. Perhaps it was his height or his good looks--

'Wait a minute! Why am I praising him in my head? Erase! Erase!'

"Why are you so early as well?" I asked.

He opened his mouth but shut them again. He grabbed my wrist and tugged me.

"Where are we going?" I asked in irritation and removed his hand from my wrist.

"Simon Tejeros," he whispered and shushed me.

He pointed somewhere with his mouth. I followed the direction.

I saw Simon entering the school, carrying a sketchpad. Right then, we followed him stealthily.

He entered the junior high school building, and I thought he would go directly to the third floor, where the rooms for grade nines were, but he headed to the last room in the corridor of the first floor, which was near the back door.

"Ah!" I whimpered when I bumped into a garbage can in front of one of the rooms.

"Shh!"

Nick covered my mouth to prevent me from making any sound. He pushed me onto the wall and covered me with his body. Frankly, I didn't understand why he did that.

Even if Simon wouldn’t see me, he would still see him and our awkward position.

Just why on earth did the trash bin end up here?

Nick's back was facing Simon, and I--

We were too close to each other, and I couldn't--

"Nick, what the hell are you doing?" I asked in a low voice.

"I don’t know."

He reached out his hand to the doorknob on my side to check if it would open, but it was locked. I had to look sideways because of the tight space. His chest pressed on my cheek and the weird feeling creeping into my stomach was so uncomfortable I wanted to push him away.

"What is this uncomfortable position we have?" I awkwardly said.

He glared at me. "You’re the one who wasn't careful! If he sees us, he might run away and not cooperate with us."

I couldn't say anything, so I just rolled my eyes.

"Is he still there?" I asked Nick.

Nick looked at where Simon was, and then said, "Let's go."

When both of us were standing straight, Nick narrowed his eyes at me and straightened his slightly crumpled uniform.

Wow, I should be ashamed of his well-ironed, no-place-for-wrinkles uniform.

"Next time, if you wanna play detective, do it properly. Don't be clumsy."

I stomped on his foot purposely, and he whimpered in pain.

He was always so mean! Why couldn't he be nice to me for once?

I slowly approached the last room and left Nick behind.

"Art club room," I read aloud what was written on the placard above the door.

Nick came after me quickly, and he opened the door quietly. We both peered inside. We saw Simon preparing his sketchpad, pencils, erasers, and other art materials.

Every table inside the room was placed far from each other. It was probably designed that way to help artists concentrate on their work.

Among the empty tables, only one was occupied. Simon was the only one to ever make a sound inside the large art room.

He started working on his sketchpad silently. He was too absorbed in what he was doing that he never noticed us sneaking inside the room.

After observing him for a few minutes, I stood up and went to his table. I took a peek at what he was working on. Simon jerked in surprise when he finally noticed another presence inside the room.

The eraser he was holding flew in the air.

"Oops, didn't mean to scare you," I joked.

I picked up his eraser and gave it back to him. Once again, I glanced at his drawing.

He anxiously closed his sketchpad to prevent me from looking at it. As if that wasn't enough, he drew the pad close to his chest to completely prevent anyone from taking it.

"You're Simon Tejeros, right?" Nick asked in my stead.

Simon fixed his eyeglasses before answering. "Yes, w-why?"

"You know Angel, right?" I asked directly, without hesitation.

Simon stilled in his seat. He tightened his hug at the sketchpad on his chest.

"Can I see your drawing?" I politely and kindly asked.

He frigidly refused.

"Please? I wanna see it," I insisted.

He hesitated, but he eventually opened his pad and showed it to me. I saw an unfinished drawing of someone's face. Even though unfinished, I could already tell it was Angel.

All of his sketches were related to Angel. There were different lettering of Angel's name. Some pages contained illustrations of an angel, and most were Angel's faces.

I dragged an empty chair, placed it in front of Simon, and took a seat. Nick did the same.

"I hope you don’t mind," Nick began. "We just wanna ask you some questions."

"W-What i-is it?" Simon stammered.

I was unsure if he stammered because he just really stuttered or if he was nervous.

"What were you doing on October 3? It was our Summative Exam if you remember. You were at school, right?" Nick asked.

Simon nodded his head. "I had something to do that day, so I was at school."

"You met her, didn't you?"

I kicked Nick's leg secretly to stop him. Before I could intervene, Nick laid the note he found in front of Simon.

"You gave this note to her."

Simon's eyes widened in shock. "How did you--"

"I heard you brought some flowers for Angel. Is that true?" Nick asked with a hint of bitterness in his tone. Or maybe jealousy?

I couldn't believe this guy!

"Yes," Simon replied.

"What happened that day? Did you give the flowers to her? Did she accept it?"

Nick was thirsty for information, and it sounded like he was hoping Angel had rejected the guy.

This jerk! If he was this jealous, then he should've made a move to win Angel's heart instead of just lurking around her silently.

I elbowed Nick and whispered, "Let me take it from here."

Simon cast accusing eyes at us. "What are you guys doing? Why are you asking these things?"

"We wanna confirm your whereabouts that day. So, what? Did you give her the flowers or not?"

I elbowed Nick for the second time. His futile jealousy wouldn't get us anywhere.

"I looked for her in your classroom because I wanna confess my feelings," Simon shyly admitted. His cheeks reddened because of the embarrassment.

"And then? What happened?" I curiously asked.

"I never got to give her the flowers. She was absent that day. I waited for her every day after that in front of the Fortitude classroom, but I never saw her again. And then, weeks after that, I found out she was reported missing. And then suddenly, I saw on the news that she's gone forever."

I knew looks could deceive, but I could swear I saw genuine sadness in his eyes.

Nick and I exchanged glances.

"Does that mean you guys never met?" I clarified.

Simon shook his head. "I suppose she didn't even know I exist."

Then that meant…

Simon was not the one.

“By chance, do you know if Angel had a boyfriend?” Nick supplicated.

Simon shook his head again.

"I got the courage to confess because as far as I knew she didn't have a boyfriend."

This only meant one thing.

Whoever S.T was, his relationship with Angel was completely a secret.

I smiled at Simon. "I'm sorry, Simon. We just really want to know what happened to Angel."

"If you have any information, we would appreciate it if you could share it with us. Anything at all. Even if you think it's irrelevant," Nick politely said. "We believe Angel didn't commit suicide."

I almost choked on my own saliva.

Why the hell would he tell a suspect with that information? Was he crazy?

"What?" Simon became on edge in his seat. "Are you saying someone murdered her?"

Simon appeared to be in shock.

The damage had been done. I could only give Nick scolding gazes, and the jerk just shrugged at me.

"That's what we believe," I butted in before Nick could give away another chunk of information about our investigation.

I stared down at his sketchpad. "You know… you're really good at drawing."

He smiled thinly as if hearing compliments bothered him.

After we said our goodbyes and as soon as we stepped outside the art room, I hit Nick on the back of his head. He glared at me in return.

"What was that for?" he snapped.

"You prick! Why don't you just announce to the whole school we're investigating Angel's death?"

While I almost died in frustration, he frowned and said, "If you can't distinguish real emotion from fake, then you're not a good detective, Jasmine."

What the hell?