Chapter 2

The next morning, the city felt different. Colder.

I went to the police station.

"I want to file a murder complaint against Kevin Jennings," I told the desk sergeant.

He looked at a paper, then at me.

"Mrs. King, an investigation is ongoing. We have Mr. Jennings' statement."

"His statement is a lie." My voice was shaking, but firm.

"Detectives will be in touch." He wouldn't meet my eyes.

Detectives never called.

Instead, Susan Jennings called me.

Her voice was smooth, like poisoned honey.

"Mrs. King, I am so sorry for your loss. Emily was... a spirited girl."

Spirited. Is that what they called it?

"Kevin is devastated. Absolutely beside himself. He truly believed he was in danger."

I stayed silent. My teeth were clenched.

"We understand your grief. And Richard and I, we want to help. We're prepared to offer a sum, a significant sum, for funeral expenses, your... trouble."

Trouble. My daughter's life was "trouble."

"It would be a private arrangement, of course. To avoid more pain for everyone."

"Pain for who, Mrs. Jennings? My daughter is dead."

"These things get messy in the media, Mrs. King. Emily had... a reputation, you know. For being confrontational."

My blood ran cold. "What reputation?"

"Oh, just things kids say. We wouldn't want that dragged out, would we?" A soft threat.

"Are you trying to buy my silence?"

A light laugh. "Of course not. It's a gesture of goodwill. From one mother to another."

She hung up.

Then the news started.

Davis, the local anchor, his face grave. "Tragic death of a local teen, Emily King, after an altercation with star quarterback Kevin Jennings. Sources say King may have instigated the conflict."

My picture flashed on screen. A bad one, from my driver's license. I looked tired, angry.

Then a smiling, handsome photo of Kevin in his football uniform.

The school principal, Mr. Parker, gave a statement.

"Our hearts go out to both families. We are counseling students. We always encourage peaceful conflict resolution. Sometimes, young people make poor choices."

Implying Emily made the poor choice.

Online, the comments were brutal.

"Gold digger mom."

"She probably attacked him, jealous bitch."

"Kevin is a hero. She got what she deserved."

They were destroying my daughter's memory.

My grief turned to a hard, cold rage.

This wasn't just about Kevin anymore. It was about all of them.