Hush Now (ON HOLD)

Everyone has secrets, Camden Rivers is no exception. All anyone really knows about Camden is that she's president of the AV club and that her brother, the perfect and popular Daniel, is dead. What they don't know is that she visits her disowned sister in jail, has parents who not-so-discreetly despises her and the reason for her parents' hate is eating her alive. When Clete Jopkins, a student in her literature class, joins the AV club, Camden thinks that her secrets will finally be set loose. But after a documentary experiment goes wrong Camden and her AV club buddies find themselves in the catch for a killer. Camden and Clete's secrets have a role to play in the deaths and if they don't hush now, they'll be next on the kill list.


2. Chapter Two

"The new edition of TMNT came out yesterday if you're intrested," says Simon the second I walk through the auditorium doors and into the AV studio. Simon waves the comic book in face, taunting me, before throwing it to me. I catch it with expert hands and plop down onto the plush, pink loveseat sofa that Jake salvaged last month to read it. The smell of old film and burnt out wires fills my nostrils as I read about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Mom complains about that a seventeen year-old girl like me shouldn't read comic books made for seven year-old boys. I say screw that.

"What 'cha working on Si?" I after a while. Simon's been grunting and sighing for the past forty minutes. Usually he's fixing some old sound equipement but it usually takes shorter than this.

"Nothing special, just some old cameras Jake left me last month," he answers. Simon's long, usually nimble fingers try to fuse two wires together with little success. I put down the comic book and walk over to help him. About a dozen little cameras are half opened. I inspect each one, making sure they're put together properly.

This wouldn't be a problem, I think bitterly, if our school would donate a little money on the AV club. Our school is rich, like Bill Gates rich, but is too concerned with sports teams to put a little money to help buy new video cameras, new sound equipement. Everything in this room (the sofas, the cameras, mics, even all the TMNT comic books) are either paid by us, or is something Jake salvaged. Meanwhile, the school spends a thousand dollars on state of the art basketballs. The injustice of it all is mind boggling.

"What're we supposed to do with these?" I ask, wiping my hands clean of wire grease once we finish. Simon pushes his glasses up the bridge of nose, his smile illuminating his face.

"That's the beauty of them! You can use them for almost everything! Documentaries, movies, exposés, the possibilties are endless. They're also portable and small enough so you can tape people without noticing," Simon says excitedly.

"Who're you planning on spying on Simon?" I ask and he instantly goes red.

"Not like that, just in case we need to tape people for the documentary," he says sheepishly.

"That's an 'if' on the documentary. We still haven't come up with an idea," I say exasperatedly.

"I know, McCarthy Academy is a favourite to win and their school paid for their excursion to London for the sermon. If our school paid for the trip, we would be the ones meeting Morgan Spurlock and winning the contest!" Simon complains. I daydream a little, imagine meeting (and possibly getting tips) from the director of the lengendary documentary "Supersize Me!"

My daydreaming is interupted by a knock at the door. I wipe my hands clean one last time on my jeans and answer the door, it's probably Julie anyways. She's always late nowadays. I practically pull the rusted door open as Julie sqeezes through. I shut it again and sit on the sofa and continue daydreaming.

"You guys won't believe who I ran into!" Julie pants excitedly. I settle down onto the sofa again and flip back to my page in the book.

"Unless it's Morgan Spurlock, I'm not that interseted," I say. Julie sticks her tongue out at me.

"Don't be so bitter, Prez," she pouts. Julie knows that I like being called Camden but insists on calling me Prez, short form for president of the AV club ever since they voted me that last winter. I put on mock interest just to please her.

"Fine, who'd you meet?" I ask.

"Oh, I don't know. You don't seem so interested," she says. I roll my eyes.

"C'mon Julie, spit it out," says Simon exasperated.

"Fine," she relents, "there's this kid I ran into in the hall. He asked if the AV club was still admitting members. I said yes, I mean since Jake is in Florida we might as well get as many people involved as possible."

"You mean to say that he's already in the AV club? You didn't even check to see if he knew anything about the way we work?" I ask angrily. Julie flushes a little at this, he cheeks turning the bright red of her hair.

"I didn't just let him in," she defends, "I asked him about if he had experirence and he did. He worked at a tech shop for a year. He even showed me a resumé."

"Julie, anyone can fake a resumé," sighs Simon. Julie sits down, defeated.

"I'm sorry Julie. This kid probably faked everything," I say soothingly as I pat her back. She shrugs me off and paces the room.

"He most certainly didn't," she says and storms out of the room. She slams the door with a thud and the pitter-patter of footsteps can be heard from outside the door.

"At least we know he's a guy," says Simon. I crack a small smile.

"That really narrows it down," I say sarcastically. I look around the room quietly. Simon gets up and quickly starts typing away on the computer. I smile at this also, Simon was always a computer geek. You can never get his face off the screen for too long. He's in charge of cutting and editing our videos. Jake's the camera man, Julie's the sound equipement expert. There's me too, if I had a position it would be director. I came up with the ideas. I wrote everything and made sure it went smoothly. I am President of the AV club, also known as Leader of the Geeks to my classmates.

A knock at the door interupts my thoughts. I push my legs off the couch and walk over to the door. I guess I have to apologize to Julie for snapping at her. I pull the door open, expecting to see the bright red hair that belongs to Julie. I couldn't be more wrong.

Instead of Julie I see Clete. Signal-knowing, tatto-wearing, messenger-bag-flung-over-my-shoulder-because-I-know-it-looks-cool Clete. For a second I'm unsure of what to do, so I panic and do the only logical thing I could've thought of. I shut the door in his face. The sudden bang caused even Simon to peel his eyes off the computer screen.

"Who was it?" he asks.

"Clete," I answer numbly. Simon looks at me, a expression of utter shock on his face.

"The Clete Jopkins?" he asks. I cock an eyebrow at him.

"How'd you know his last name?" I ask. Simon shrugs.

"Jake was complaining about him before he left. Jake hated him for some reason," he says before going back to his computer. I consider that for a moment before opening the door again. I put on my most winning smile.

"Sorry for banging the door in your face," I say. Part of being a director/journalist was learning to lie through your teeth to get whatever reaction you want from people. "Won't you come in?"

Clete steps inside without a word, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the room. I remember my first time here as a freshman, I hated the smell at first also. He takes a seat on my couch. Not that it was officially my seat, although it really should be.

"What did I ever do to you that deserved a door in my face?" he asks, laughing slightly. I pull out a seat and sit at my desk.

"Sorry about that," I lie, "you startled me." The second part was true. Clete's eyes flash towards mine, catching something in mine that I made sure no one could see. I gulp and pretend to rummage through my desk. After a while I clear my throat.

"If you're done here, you may leave-" I start to get up and show him out. Instead of following me and leaving, he stays put.

"I didn't come all the way here to be escorted out..." he says, struggling to remember my name.

"Camden," I say.

"Well, Camden, I didn't come here to be rejected. I came to join the club," he says. I scoff a little bit at that.

"Why would you want to join now? It's not like you were ever interested before," I sneer. He looks at me for a moment, truly looks at me, and for a second I feel so fragile. So delicate. I shake it off, I don't need this now. Not now.

"People change."

"Not that quickly."

"How would you know? You've never known me," he says. I open my mouth to reply but no sound comes out. A self-satisfied smile appears on Clete's face as he settles back into his chair. I sit back down hesitantly and scowl at him. That's when I notice the scar. The long scar running down his forearm.

"Where'd you get the scar?" I ask before thinking. I could've slapped myself right then and there for my bluntness. Instead of being angry though, Clete just laughs.

"You mean this?" he asks, gesturing to the scar. I tentatively nod my head. "I got it from this jerk, what's his name again? You must of seen him. Blond hair, brown eyes. Last name Rivers?"

No, that can't be. He can't be describing my brother. There's only one boy I've known though with blond hair and brown eyes with the last name Rivers. And that's my brother.

"Was his name Daniel?" I ask numbly. A even wider smile, one that crinkles around his eyes, is on his face.

"That's his name," Clete says.

"Are you impling that Daniel Rivers was a bully?" I ask. He laughs.

"Worse. Worse than a bully. I'm glad he's dead," he shrugs.

I lose it.

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