Jessica

“Can you keep a secret?” Jessica whispered.

Her breath tickled Harrison’s and warmed his cheek. He lost his place on the page that trembled in his hand.

“Harry?” She said.

“Yes,” his voice was stiff. He fought the desire to look at her, he didn't want her to see how red he was.

"Can you keep a secret?" She whispered.

"Oh. Yes. I meant, yes I can keep a secret." Harry felt a little excitement rising. He'd dreamt of Jessica whispering in his ear. The school library wasn't his place of choice, but he could easily forget where he was with her so close. She was leaning over his shoulder. He could feel her against his back. He could smell something light, something sweet, in her hair as it floated beside him - he turned slightly to feel it against his hot cheek.

She leant in to make sure that no one else could hear, "I know who the killer is."

Harrison tensed. He noticed that the page had stopped trembling and had torn slightly in his grip. In a heart flutter his blood drained to his legs. Every tap on a keyboard, every ruffle of a page or shuffle of feet was a potential spy on his new and unexpected conspiracy. He was afraid Jess would get spooked and stop talking. Her voice was so soft, even now, when she must have been scared. He was afraid that he was getting into something. He was afraid of what the punishment was for tearing a page of a library book.

"I-" he slammed the book shut, "I need to get to class."

He slipped the book into his bag and stood, hitting both his legs against the table and turning half a dozen heads. He thought about laughing, salvaging something from this sudden nightmare, but his feet were, now painfully, marching him to the exit. He was five paces away when he heard Jessica again.

"Harry," confusion poisoned her perfect voice, "your bag."

He turned about and marched back. He'd lied about going to class, he'd only been in the library a few minutes, and he was well aware that she knew it. Just grab the bag and run, he thought.

He saw the rucksack in her hand. His palms tingled with sweat. He snatched it and made for freedom.

Weaving clumsily into every student between Jess and the exit, Harrison remembered why he usually liked the library. No one would talk to him. No names, no games, no teachers shouting his name. He nearly tripped over this last thought. 

"Forget to sign a book out did we?" The voice was sharp and balanced like a fine blade, and it cut deep. Harrison turned slowly. First, a couple of girls giggling, then the security pillar, flashing a dangerous red, and then, less than two feet away, Mr Hurt. Untrained in any other subject, the sports teacher was tasked with guarding the library and he'd fostered a vendetta against Harrison for six years. "Arrogant brats like you think they can get away with murder. Oh stop with the tears, you're almost eighteen, boy. Be a man." 

Harrison wiped the single tear from his eye. He just wanted to read a book. 

"Alright lad, with me." Hurt took Harrison's shoulder.

"Sir?" Harrison looked up - it was Jess.

"Sir." She repeated. "He didn't steal it, sir. I saw him leave without his bag. I knew he'd been reading the book, so I slipped it in the bag, thinking it was his, before I gave it to him." She flashed a killing smile, "Sorry Sir, my mistake."

Hurt's lip lifted into a leathery scowl. "You could do so much better girl," he said, releasing Harrison, taking the book that Harrison was fumbling from his bag, and returning to his post.

Jessica followed Harrison to a bench in the staff car park behind the school. It was off-limits to students, but no one minded Harrison being there. He was safe there.

He sat at the end of the bench, she sat on the middle. 

"It's him," whispered Jessica.

"I'm sorry?"

"The killer. It's Mr Hurt."

"Oh."

"You're not surprised?"

"He smiles when they tackle me in rugby, or when I get fouled in football."

"It's a bit of a leap from that to killer."

"It doesn't feel like it from this end of the joke."

Harrison felt a light pressure on his back. Jessica's hand rested on him and he felt pounds of tension melting into her soft, warm palm.

"If you know he's the killer," Harrison could back a tear, "why not go to the police? Actually, why are you telling me this? Why are you even talking to me?"

Jessica eyed him with confusion and sympathy in equal measure. "You're nice," she said, "no one else here is. And you don't gossip or look out for yourself. And, well, you're sort of the opposite of intimidating."

Harrison nodded then they sat in silence watching the leaves dancing in the wind.

Jessica broke the silence first, "he's dating my mum. That's why I can't go to the police, they would just think I'm lashing out. It's also how I know that he's the killer. It's been one victim a week, every Saturday, for four weeks." Her eyes began to glisten with tears. "He moved in two weeks ago and he disappears each Saturday after my mum knocks herself out on Merlot." She realised that Harrison was looking at her, intentionally, for the first time. "I want to follow him. I'll call the police when I know where his next attack will be."

"But-" Harrison reached for Jessica's leg, before he remembered himself, "his next kill must be tomorrow, what if he catches you?"

"I'll have back up." Jessica flashed another killer smile. 

They plotted until the bell rang for class and the next evening, after his mum had said goodnight, Harrison took his first unsolicited excursion from home. He reached Jessica's home shortly before midnight, where she was already waiting beneath a willow beside the driveway. The moonlight scattered through the branches and landed on her as a shower of diamonds.

"Hi," said Harrison.

"Harry! I thought you might not come."

You're too beautiful to miss, he thought. "Would you have gone through with this anyway?" He asked.

"Yes"

"Then I'm glad I came."

"You're sweet, Harry."

The cover of night failed to hide the reddening of his cheeks. She smiled. They waited together behind a curtain of willow branches. By the time Hurt left the house, Jessica was starting to drift off on Harrison's shoulder. Harrison was wide awake.

"Jess?" He whispered, "Jess!"

She looked up at him, put a hand around his neck, and smiled. "Harry?"

"Shh," Harrison fought the urge to embrace her, "he's moving."

The two kept their distance as Hurt strolled down the road. After a few turns, they arrived at a car repair shop.

"His brother owns this place," said Jessica, "he must keep his weapon here."

"Great, I'll call the police." Harrison pulled his phone out.

"No!" Jessica grabbed the phone, "in a place like this he'll pretend it's just a tool, or someone else left it here or something. We need to-"

"He's coming!"

"Quick," Jessica leaned on a door to the side of the building, "this is open, we can hide in here until he passes."

Harrison rushed in, pushing the door with an open palm. The door swung back behind them but stuck just short of closing. Harrison ducked behind it.

"I'll keep an eye out," said Jessica, "you grab that monkey wrench in case we need to defend ourselves."

"What?" spat Harrison, before clutching on to wrench.

"Oh no," dread began to tremble in Jess's eyes.

"What?"

"No, no, no." Jessica began to sob.

The door swung out at Harrison. Jessica screamed.

Hurt switched a light on, "Jessic-."

Harrison bought the wrench down on Hurt's temple with both hands then, in a fit of panic, beat the teacher, again and again and again and again.

Jessica giggled.

Harrison slowly lifted his eyes. He was met with a killer grin.

"Oh no!" she mocked, "please save me, Harry! I can't say I enjoyed this as much as the last four, but hey, now I can feel safe knowing that I didn't kill any of them."

"I don't-" Harrison began, "Jess, what did I do?"

"You killed five grown men, Harry. Must make you feel like a man."

"No. I-" he dropped the wrench.

"Owh, Harry, don't worry, I won't tell if you don't" she swayed sweetly as if they were talking about a school prank, "and if you do tell, then I'll tell them how my favourite new father took me to see the car he's been fixing up and how you came and beat him to death. Oh, the things you made me do." She tore at her collar. "Everyone knows you've been watching me at school and how you hate Mr Hurt, now it's your fingerprints on the door and the murder weapon."

"You..." Harry's confusion focused into an intense mixture of fear, disgust and fury, "You knew he was coming to fix a car. You knew he'd come this way. You knew the door would stay open so you could get his attention. You-"

"I made you a murderer, Harry. So, my lonely little psychopath," She flashed a killer smile, "can you keep a secret?"