Chapter 1

I have always been a good student. 3.9 GPA, Honor’s Society, class president. Now, I’m here with my boyfriend on my left, a dead body bleeding out right in front of me, and armed cops surrounding us. The irony is almost poetic. The wind lifts dust into the early morning sky, giving the world around me a hazy filter. But, what’s happening right now isn’t important. What’s more significant is how we got here and why things ended up this way. Let’s start from the beginning...

*

“Bonnie Knight?”

“Here,” I called out in a dull voice. The mid-April sun filtered through the shuttered windows, casting a shadow on the man at the front of the room. Mr. Floyd insisted on calling attendance every day. I don’t know if the 79 year old did this because he was becoming senile, or if he just enjoyed harassing his students. My money was on both.

“Clyde Nichols?” I glanced at the empty desk next to me as Mr. Floyd repeated the name. “Clyde Nichols? Going once, going twice, Cly-”

The door banged open. As per usual, Clyde walked in late to first period. He gave me a crooked grin and made his way to his seat. I giggled under my breath as Clyde kissed me on the top of the head and sat down. Mr. Floyd shot him the evil eye. Clyde ruffled his nearly black hair, tipped his coffee in Mr. Floyd’s direction, and took a sip. “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin today’s lecture,” Mr. Floyd slammed the door to make a point. Clyde snuck a glance at me.

“I’d say he’s in a cheery mood, Bon.”

“Believe it or not, this is him happy,” I joked back. I’ve had Mr. Floyd as an AP History teacher for the past three years of high school, so it’s only fitting that I had him my senior year as well. Clyde, on the other hand, had never had Mr. Floyd before and was already on his bad side. He took another sip of his coffee as Mr. Floyd began his lecture, “Now, we’ll dive into one of the most well known stories in American history: the story of Bonnie and Clyde.” The entire class snickered lightly. I hunched my shoulders and slunk back into my chair.

Clyde and I had been dating for almost three years, and the constant barrage of  jokes like “Don’t go stealing cars now,” or “Wait, Bonnie, aren’t you already married?” stuffed my ears to the brim. Clyde noticed my discomfort and tried to alleviate the situation. He slammed his coffee on his desk, stood up, and said:

“This here’s Miss Bonnie Parker. I’m Clyde Barrow. We rob banks.”

The class erupted into laughter and I slunk further into my seat. Clyde saw my expression, realized his mistake, and timorously sat back in his chair. “Sorry, Bon.” He reached for my hand, but I tucked it into my sweatshirt pocket. His face flushed as Mr. Floyd tried to get the class back under control.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, class. It wasn’t even that funny. C’mon, guys, use your self control.” He slammed a ruler against the whiteboard, catching everyone’s attention. “Jesus, are you guys twelve? Learn when to shut up!”

“Chill the f**k out, Ted Hinton,” a student called from the corner of the room, referencing the town’s infamous FBI detective. A couple of years ago, a big drug bust happened, and Detective Hinton was the one who brought it all down. 12 kids from this school faced jail time. Mr. Floyd’s eyes bulged at the remark, and the class lost it. Before I could hear anything else, I grabbed bathroom pass and walked out of the room.

“Bon, wait. Bonnie!” Clyde called. I didn’t look back. It took everything I had not to go sprinting out of that classroom. I almost reached the safety of the girl’s bathroom when I felt a hand catch my wrist. “Bon, I’m sorry. I know how much you hate getting teased about that kind of stuff. I was only trying to make you feel better.” I turned towards my wrist’s captor and met familiar honey brown eyes.

“I know, it’s just those kids. Mr. Floyd is right; they need to learn when to shut up.”

“Wow, those are words I never thought I’d hear come out of your mouth.”

“What?”

“‘Mr. Floyd is right.’” Clyde smiled and pulled me closer to him. “I really am sorry, though. Not the best way to start off the morning.”

“Better than how our two year anniversary started,” I teased. Clyde usually had an impeccable memory, so to say I was shocked that he had forgotten our anniversary is an understatement.

Clyde feigned being hurt. “Okay, you know that I was a mess that day. I promise I won’t forget our three year. I even set a reminder!” He handed me his phone. Written in huge letters across May 23rd was “THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY!”

I laughed and gave him his phone back. “You’re that much of an idiot to need a reminder for your own anniversary?”

“I’m an idiot for forgetting in the first place,” he grinned and kissed me on the forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Now let’s go back.”

I pulled my sweatshirt tighter around myself. “Do we really have to?” Clyde’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What?” I asked.

“Did I hear correctly?” He stepped back in awe. “Miss-Perfect-Attendance wants to skip class? Miss 3.9 GPA wants to skip an hour of riveting tales told by the school’s most adored teacher? I’m shocked.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and twirled them around his finger. “Where do you want to go?”

I took his free hand and lead him out the door. “Anywhere.”

*

I finished my fruit salad and crumpled my napkin. Clyde slugged back the last bit of his hot chocolate and looked at my empty fruit bowl. “Wow, being lactose intolerant must suck.” I chucked my wrinkled napkin at him.

“It’s not my fault you chose the only restaurant in Arlington that doesn’t have dairy free options.”

He laughed and looked over my shoulder at something. “Dean, my man! What are you doing here?”

Dean Ivans, Clyde’s best friend, walked up to our table and sat down next to Clyde. His tall stature towered over the table, and his usually dark and shabby hair was smoothed back, making the two look like brothers. “No first period, bro. What’s up, blondie?”

“Ditching for the first time,” I lifted up my glass of lemonade as a toast. Dean knuckle bumped it and I took a swig.

“Jeez, man, you’ve really been a bad influence on poor ol’ Bon Bon.” He snatched Clyde’s cup and was visibly disappointed when it turned up empty.

“Do you know how many times I’ve asked her to ditch and she said no? She’s practically as pure as it comes.”

A redheaded waitress shimmied up to Dean. “Anything I can get you?” She pushed her perky chest closer to his face, causing Dean to shoot me a perplexed glance.

“Sure…” he squinted at her name tag, “Britney. I’ll take a hot chocolate.” She winked at him and shimmied away.

“What was that all about?” I asked Dean. He shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I swear I’ve seen her face before.”

Clyde’s eyes lit up.

“Dude, that’s Britney Blanchard! She’s the one who transferred schools sophomore year because of that whole Mr. Floyd thing-”

“That whole ‘Mr. Floyd thing’ was just a rumor,” I interjected. “If he really had been having an affair with a student, he would have been fired. Unfortunately, he’s still here.”

“Holy s**t, it is!” Dean’s beefy hands went to the top of his head. “ Damn, times must be tough if she’s working at the Golden Egg-”

I shut him up with a smack on the arm. “At least she has a job. Tell me again how you got fired from McDonald’s?”

Dean shot Clyde a look. “Yeah, she’s pure alright.” Britney came back with the hot chocolate. She pushed her chest within inches of Dean’s face while setting down the steaming drink.

“Enjoy,” she winked again and shimmied away. Clyde snorted and I covered my hand with my mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Dean timidly took a sip of his hot chocolate, then shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not bad.” Clyde and I erupted into laughter as Dean checked his watch, red-faced from the situation. “Second period starts in 15 minutes. Are you guys going back?”

Clyde stretched his arms above his head. “I wouldn’t mind not-”

“We’re going back.” I flashed a cheesy smile at him as I gathered my things. He frowned, but began to gather his things, too.

“See you in English, bro.” Dean waved at us and strutted out of the Golden Egg, but not before smiling goofily at Britney.

“Are you completely sure you want to go back to school?” Clyde asked slyly as we walked into the parking lot.

I snickered. “Yes, now unlock your car. I can’t miss my English test.” He unlocked the door and we drove back to the school.

*

I hung my car keys in their usual spot on the wall as I strolled into my empty house after school. A note hung on the same hanger as it did everyday. Working overtime, won’t see you until after business meeting in Cabo. -Mom. Next to it hung another. Working weekend, see you Monday.  -Dad. My parents were usually never home, so I pretty much had the house to myself.

Wandering into the kitchen, I chose a pomegranate half and a bottle of water and sat down in the living room. This has always been my favorite room of the whole house. With tall, white painted walls and a grand piano in the corner, it always reminded me of the times when my parents were actually home. My mother used to give me lessons on that grand piano, and my dad always placed our Christmas tree right next to it so I could practice under the lights that dangled off of it. I sighed at the memory.

My bedroom was my second favorite. It was painted a dusty light blue and had a queen sized bed placed in directly in the middle of it. A huge window overlooked the hill the house was built on and gave a pretty decent view of the distant mountains. My walls were ornamented with pictures of my previous high school years. In the sea of smiling faces and summer vacations, a few pictures always stood out to me. Freshman year Bonnie smiled at Clyde at the homecoming dance, her blue eyes shining brightly. He asked her out later that night. Sophomore Bonnie posed with her friends in front of the lake they camped at for 3 days, mosquito bites and all. Then, junior Bonnie was hard at work on an original science project. Turns out finding signs of possible life on ejecta blankets of craters on Mars isn’t as easy as it sounds. Now, senior year Bonnie is choosing between four full ride scholarships from equally esteemed colleges. No picture for that, though.

I crunched a pomegranate aril as I looked out the living room window. It wasn’t as big as the one in my room, but it was good enough for now. I took out today’s homework and cringed at the reading assignment. Floyd- Read history of Bonnie and Clyde, pages 154-162. Quiz Monday.. I figured I already knew plenty about the subject, so I headed up to my room and called it an early night.

*

A loud ringing woke me up from my sleep. I checked my clock and the numbers 10:37 blinked back at me. I blindly flailed around for my phone, and when I found it, I answered it without even looking at who was calling with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Bon, it’s me. I fucked up. I fucked up bad. Can you come to the school?”

I shot straight up in bed. “Clyde, what happened?”

“Just come. Hurry-” muffled voices shouted in the background. “Can you guys shut the hell up? Bon, just hurry. Please.” Clyde hung up the phone. I dashed to my closet to change out of my pajamas, grabbed my keys from their spot on the wall, and raced to the school.

The drive seemed to last an eternity. Rain pounded my windshield so hard that my wipers could barely keep up with the onslaught. I sent up a quick prayer and kept on driving.

I pulled into the parking lot to find a freaked out Clyde, a stern Dean, and an out of place Britney Blanchard. I ran up to Clyde after parking my car. “Clyde, what the hell-” I stopped at the sight of Mr. Floyd’s lifeless body crumpled in front of Clyde’s Subaru WRX. Blood had seeped out of our history teacher’s head to form a pool there and by his twisted leg. I dropped to my knees. “Jesus Christ…”

“I was pulling a late night cramming session in the library. Mr. Floyd wasn’t even in the parking lot when I walked out here. Then when I backed out of the parking spot and started to pull forward, he was right in front of me. He came out of nowhere…” Clyde began to choke up.

“My parents aren’t answering their phones, Clyde. Brit’s trying her mom’s cell right now.” Dean walked over the pools of blood and to his best friend’s side. “Bonnie, can you try your mom too?”

I shot a look at Dean. “Wait, have none of you have called the police yet? What the hell are our parents gonna do?”

“We can’t call the police, Bonnie. This s**t looks like a straight up murder.”

I stood up.

“Are you insane? The only way to make this not look like a murder is to call the damn police and tell them what happened! Dean, please tell me you’re not that stupid!”

“Don’t call him stupid, blondie,” Britney stepped around the blood and made her way next to Dean.

I looked at her, then back at him. “Why the hell is she even here?”

Dean’s face got red. “Well, after we saw each other at the Golden Egg, we decided to catch up…” Britney smirked. I almost barfed. “She was with me when Clyde called. I left my phone at home, I was in too much of a rush and forgot to grab it again.”

“Bonnie’s right. We need to call the cops,” Clyde put his arm around my shoulder as a tear mixed with the raindrops on his cheek. He pulled out his phone and dialed 911. “D****t!” He threw his phone on the ground, and it splashed up water and blood as it hit the ground. “Goddamn battery died.” He ran both of his hands through his soaked hair and rubbed his face. “What the hell are we gonna do…”

“I mean, he’s just an old man. No one even liked him when I went here. Well, except me.” Britney twirled a dampened red curl around her finger. I almost exploded.

“You need to get the hell out of here. Dean, take her home. Now. ”

“No one is leaving. We need to figure out what we’re going to do about all of this.” Clyde picked up his miraculously unshattered phone off of the ground and foolishly tried 911 again. He flashed a wry smile as the lifeless phone screen stared back at him.

“The station’s only about ten minutes away. We could make the drive,” said Dean as he put his arm around Britney’s waist.

“You two are not going anywhere. If anyone is driving to the station, it’s me and Clyde.”

Clyde’s deep breath seemed to settle the argument. “You guys stay here. Bon and I will go to the station.”

“So we’re just supposed to wait here and watch over a dead body?” Britney wriggled her eyebrows. “Talk about sadistic.”

“Clyde, let’s go.” I grabbed my keys from my purse and walked back towards my car, my hair leaving puddles wherever I stepped. The keys jangled in my shaky hands as I tried to contain my rage at Britney. Clyde tried to take the keys from my hand, and I resisted until I saw the broken look in his eyes.

“Driving will help take my mind off… you know.” I nodded and gave him the keys. It felt like I had been up for hours, so I checked the car’s clock as Clyde started the ignition. 11:09. It had only been 32 minutes. After about five more minutes of driving, the lull of the road put me to sleep. Actually, maybe it was just trauma and exhaustion taking over. My money was still on both.