The Outcast

Cate Beasley

I never belonged in high school - never belonged in any sort of group or what you teens call stereotypes. I had no friends, not because I didn’t get along with anyone, but nobody wanted to be involved with me. I am the definition of an outcast. Still, I was at least a somebody to most people.

My father Carl Beasley is the sheriff of a small town named Lerwick, located along the east coast of Utah. Being the daughter of an overprotective authority figure, everyone was quick to assume I was an innocent girl.

And I took advantage of that. Smart. I know. I never realize how naive people were. They never saw it coming. What I’m capable of.

Revenge was the only thing that kept me motivated. It was meant to be a one-time thing, but as it turned out, I wanted more. More bloodshed. I got away the first time, I could get away the second time, right? The third? The fourth? The fifth? Sixth? I get excited just thinking about it. I was so sure of myself too. I was a lucky duck, you might say getting away the first time.

Well...until I met him.

First time meeting, I knew I couldn’t trust him. He was sweet, generous, and kind. He reminded me of my old self back then. Someone who was weak and vulnerable. But no. He was more. He was also strong, determined, and real.

He was my rival. A threat who saw through my eyes - the darkness, the lust, the crimes.

He was justice. I was chaos. We were complete opposites looking to destroy one another. It was almost too perfect almost like God intended it to be.

James Walter. That name. I get sick of hearing it, but I can’t help but feel the butterflies too. Of course, I wasn’t always like this. Some people change, and sometimes it’s for the better. Let me take you back to the very beginning, and tell you how I discovered my newfound killing addiction.

Lerwick, Utah

March 16, 2018

Friday

Two years ago, I lost my mother due to breast cancer. I was fourteen at the time and we had found out she was diagnosed. Like any mother would, she was determined to fight. She gave it her all, each night reminding herself of father and little me. But the pain was unbearable, it led to her downfall.

My mother was a great listener, a wonderful cook, and my best friend. She loved to volunteer at the Salvation Army and Humane Society, everyone in the neighborhood adored her. She never wanted me to grow up without a mother and said to me no matter what happened, I had to stay strong. Not just for my father, but for myself too.

After her death, the house was always quiet and still. I grew in a state of depression including my father. We don’t talk about her, but she was never forgotten. We were always there for each other. He was the only family I had left, all I love and that went the same for him to me.

My father was an honest and noble man of his word. He knew everyone in this town, and they knew him. He was well-respected, they feared him.

It was the fear that kept my classmates avoiding me at all cost. Illegal activities went around the neighborhood and on the school campus. A few of them were involved and didn’t want to get caught, apparently, they thought I would snitch so that made me the least trusted person in this town.

But whatever, they were kind to me enough, I was just never invited to their parties or clubs. They understood that being around me was a huge risk.

The last party I attended was at my cousin’s at the age of seven. Depressing as that sounds, friendship was never a big part of my life. My mother was the only companion I had, and ever since I was fine being alone.

Or could it be that I’m afraid of getting close to someone in the result of losing them in the end? I never want to go through that phase again. I always kept my conversations short and simple. It made life easier.

It was a Friday, I sat at the far corner of the cafeteria. The first bell sounded off, lunch was about over. I slung my backpack strap over my shoulder and slipped through the crowd of students. I reached the end of the hall and made a sharp turn as I failed to realize someone was headed in my direction.

With a grunt, I slammed right into their hard chest, my nose ached - catching a whiff of their minty men cologne.

“Hey, watch where you’re going.” My lips parted, stunned by the beauty of the gold-haired pale-blue eyed boy standing inches in front of me. He stood six feet tall compared to my five feet four. His body was athletic and fit, anyone could tell he was into sports.

However, I was more drawn to his charming smile - the cute dimples on both his cheeks.

“Oh, my bad. I’m really sorry.” He said with a rueful half-smile, his slanted bangs softly caressed the side of his forehead.

“Oh no, I-I’m really sorry. I w-wasn’t looking.” I facepalmed myself, red-faced. Dear god, I was stuttering. I made it obvious too.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” His gaze dipped to my lips, my left shoulder was within touching distance with his arm. “I see you around the campus, but I don’t think we’ve talked in person before.” He continued.

Holding a mathematics textbook in one hand, he held out the other hand to me. “Hi, I’m Mark. Mark Nelson.”

“You’re in the football team.” I recognized his name in the morning announcements congratulating them on their many victories. Slowly, I took his hand into mine, and never would I have thought someone who played football hand would be so soft.

His eyes beamed with confidence. “That’s right. I’m the captain of the football team. And you’re Cate, right? The sheriff’s daughter.”

“Yup, that’s me.” I laughed, nervously.

I stood a little straighter and released his hand ignoring the tingly feelings running down my toes.

“And if I remember correct, we have English class together.” He took a step closer towards me.

“Yeah, we do.” Here I thought he was going to take off. He seemed a lot tougher than he looks.

I look past him, seeing that the hall was half empty. The second bell rung signaling a minute left to get to class.

“Your nose is a little red. Let me walk you to class.” He said without hesitation.

“You don’t have to. Really, I’m fine.”

“No, I insist.” There was a curious expression in his eyes, and that smile made it hard to resist his kind offer.

“Okay.” I surrendered, discreetly tugging down my shirt as we walked together to my next class, located on the first floor.

It struck me as odd that someone popular would consider talking to someone unnoticeable like me. But I didn’t want to assume anything. He seemed nice. It was all that mattered at the moment.

“Look, I know we just met, but my friend is throwing a huge party tonight. There’s going to be beer, food, music, and dancing. You should come.”

“Did I mention who my father was?” I said, half joking half serious.

“You did,” he nodded. “But it’s not like you can’t have fun. I don’t think anyone would mind just because you’re the sheriff’s daughter.”

“You’re the first person who’s ever invited me to a high school party. I’m not really well-trusted in school.”

His face softened. “Wow. Well, who cares about what people think. You should come and I’ll introduce you.”

“I don’t know. I’m not really the party type.”

“I figured, but aren’t you tired of being daddy’s little girl.” He jested, but I was profoundly offended.

My smile faded, I frowned. “What did you call me?”

He grew aware of that face that he had upset me. “Oh crap. I’m sorry. I sound like a jerk. I wasn’t trying to offend you. I was joking around.”

He reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a small white card, his cell was written across the faded blue line. “Here’s my number. Please, give me a call if you change your mind. I’ll give you a ride.”

I took the card. “Alright, I’ll think about it.”

“Great.”

The entire school day, Mark hadn’t left my mind. I stepped out of the school building, glad I never ran into Mark after the weird encounter, and I fast-paced to my father’s truck parked in Lot C. I was still a bit offended by what he called me, but I wasn’t going to let it bother me for the rest of the day.

When I reached the truck, I threw my bag in the back and took the passenger seat.

“Hey, sweetie. How was school?” Father asked as he started the car and drove out of the lot. His face was pale thin and angular, wrinkles formed around his eyelids, and the bags under his eyes were from the overnights at work. He was keeping himself distracted and busy again.

“Funny you ask,” I inhaled a breath and confessed. “I got invited to a party.”

“A party? Who’s?” His lips thinned. He only does that when he suspects something fishy.

“His name is Mark. He invited me to his friend’s party.”

“So this random guy asked you out?” He concluded.

I slapped a hand on my knee and laughed. “He didn’t ask me out. It was just an invitation.”

“But he gave you his number, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure half the school has his number. He’s really popular, not to mention, the captain of the football team.”

“Oh, he’s in the football team, hm?” That didn’t seem to amuse him.

“You sound upset.”

“It’s nothing,” he rubbed his chin and stayed focused on the road. “I figured guys like him go after cheerleaders.”

I remembered mother mentioned that father went through a lot of bullying in his teen years. It was the football team that mocked and pushed him around, calling him names, stealing his locker clothes, and forcing him to do their homework. It was a sensitive topic, and he doesn’t like talking about his past. The only one who knew him well was my mother because he trusted her.

“I thought so too,” I replied.

Maybe Mark did have a girlfriend. I never asked, but it wasn’t my place to ask after meeting for the first time.

“Are you thinking about going then?”

“I’m not sure. If I do, would you be okay with that?”

His fingers drummed the steering wheel, staring out into the open narrow read in deep thought. “You should go.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you’re eighteen, Cate. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

“I know that, but I don’t want you to get paranoid and go all detective here.”

“Nah, don’t worry about me. My desk is piled so I’ll keep myself busy.” He muttered. “But bring your pepper spray with you. It’s not you who I can’t trust, it’s your classmates.”

I nodded, looking into the bright blue sky. “I will.”

Around six, I had called Mark to inform him that I was going to the party. He said it was being set up right now and that he’d be at my house at seven, which gives me an hour to get ready. I thank him and hung up.

I searched on a few fashion apps, even Google, to help me match-make an outfit from my closet. This was my first time, so of course, I was nervous. I want it to be perfect. I want to have a great time.

As I got ready, I heard a knock on my door.

“Cate?” My father said from behind the door.

“Yeah?”

“I’m heading to the department, so I won’t be home until two. I bought some french fries and ribs. It’s in the fridge in case you’re hungry.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

“Bye and thanks, dad.”

The front door closed minutes later.

Earlier, I had given him Mark’s cell number and the address of where the party was being held. I knew he was concerned about the whole situation, but I told him not to fret and that I’d be alright. Yet knowing my father, he was the type to worry.

And to be honest. I was too.