The group arrived in Augusta just in time. The real estate agent Locke had contacted while in New York was already there waiting for them.
Even though it wasn't a home purchase, the commission from the rental plus the car rental fee was quite substantial, especially in a small town of only twenty thousand people.
"Mr. Broughton."
The agent gave Locke a brief handshake and, after a few words, handed over the keys to a nearly new Audi R8 parked in front of the house.
Gwen noted, "I've noticed you seem to have a particular fondness for the R8."
Locke thought for a moment. "Mostly just because I'm used to driving it."
Regarding Locke's decision to rent a separate house, neither the chemistry teacher nor the chaperone had any objections. After all, they were high schoolers; having their own ideas was understandable, and Locke was paying for it himself.
Cindy, however, let out a sigh of envy. "Locke, you should have told me earlier. If I'd known, I would have rented a house too."
She certainly wasn't short on cash. Besides, she had already checked out the house provided by Augusta High—the environment wasn't bad, but it felt a bit too "communal" for her taste.
"Wait." Cindy's eyes lit up as she looked at Locke. "Let's go to the town supermarket and buy some blankets and supplies."
'I already have them. In my inventory.'
Locke thought to himself, but seeing that Gwen also seemed interested, he nodded. "Alright. Let's ask Mrs. Cord if she wants to go. We can find a restaurant in town for dinner while we're at it."
Kahn, walking out from the house next door, happened to catch the conversation. "No need. Mrs. Cord is heading to Augusta High. She said if we don't want to go, just stay safe and handle dinner ourselves. We can submit the receipts to the school for reimbursement."
Midtown High wasn't strapped for cash. If the town had better hotels, the school would have gladly paid for them. But to be polite to their host school, Mrs. Cord and the students had agreed not to make too much of a show of it. They were here to win a championship, not to flaunt wealth.
Flaunting by the students was fine. The school, as an institution, had to stay humble.
...
The supermarket in Augusta wasn't large, but it had the essentials.
Locke stood with his hands in his pockets, taking a few seconds to scan the layout, mentally mapping out an escape route in case of an emergency. This was a habit ingrained in him as a professional—a necessary trait for a "legal" hitman. Clint Chester was a great mentor, and Locke was an excellent student; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to "graduate" to independence so quickly.
Suddenly, Locke's eyebrow twitched. He spotted a young girl a short distance away.
The girl looked incredibly inhibited and shy. Beside her stood a middle-aged woman dressed in black with the same blonde hair—likely her mother. Judging by her demeanor, she was a very strict, perhaps oppressive, parent.
The girl was cautious, keeping her eyes down in front of her mother. Locke saw clearly as her gaze drifted toward the refrigerated section with a look of longing, but she seemed too afraid to move toward it.
"Locke, what are you looking at? I've been calling you for ages." Kahn walked over and patted Locke on the shoulder. He followed Locke's gaze. "Huh? Is that her?"
In less than a second, Locke snapped back to reality, suppressing the reflex to break Kahn's arm.
Locke caught a keyword and looked at Kahn. "You know her?"
Kahn took out his phone, lowered the volume, and navigated to a video site. He clicked a video and handed it to Locke. "I think it's her. Looks just like her."
Locke took the phone.
'Good grief. A girl's locker room?'
Why didn't Midtown High ever have videos like this uploaded? And they say New York is open-minded? Nonsense. Compared to this, New York was downright conservative.
The girl in the video was indeed the one he had just seen. In the video, having just showered, her blonde hair looked a bit cleaner, and she looked quite pretty.
It seemed the girl had mistaken her first period for a mortal injury. She was panicking and pleading for help from her classmates, but a girl suddenly threw a cotton pad at her. Laughter erupted as more pads and tampons were hurled at the terrified girl.
Locke raised an eyebrow and looked at Kahn. "Do you enjoy watching bullying videos?"
It was obvious. This was the typical scene of a social pariah in school facing a crisis. Don't believe it? If this were Midtown High and the girl was, say, Cindy, there would be no video—only help.
Kahn froze, seeing Locke's judgmental gaze. He waved his hands frantically. "I didn't seek it out! The algorithm pushed it to me automatically!"
Just then, Gwen and Cindy walked over. "What are you two doing?"
Locke deadpanned, "Kahn is watching a video secretly filmed in a girls' locker room."
"What?!"
"...No! Locke, you—!"
Kahn was speechless. He hadn't expected the usually quiet Locke to pull such a move. Stunned, he quickly handed the phone to Cindy to defend himself.
Cindy and Gwen watched the video. Gwen looked away almost immediately; she never liked "freak show" content designed to mock others.
Cindy watched it to the end and handed the phone back to Kahn. "That's messed up." She belonged to the popular "strong" group at school, but her mischief was harmless. She would never dream of filming something like this.
Gwen looked at Locke curiously. "Why were you watching this all of a sudden?"
Locke replied, "The girl in that video seems to be a local. Kahn recognized her."
Kahn quickly changed the subject. "Alright, weren't we here to buy grilling supplies?"
Locke looked at Gwen. "Grilling?"
Gwen said, "I saw a grill in the backyard of the house. Why not buy some ingredients and have a BBQ tomorrow?"
Locke shrugged. "I'm game."
The encounter with the shy girl was just an interlude. Locke didn't give it much more thought. After buying their supplies and splitting the bill, the four of them returned to their neighborhood. The groceries were stashed in the fridge of Locke's rental house.
...
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
After exchanging goodnights with Gwen, Locke returned to his room. He glanced at the new blankets he'd bought, flicked his wrist, and produced a bottle of Lightning Bourbon and a glass.
Sleeping without a drink was like not sleeping at all.
*Pop.*
Locke poured himself a glass, tucked the bottle under the bed, leaned back, and took a sip. His eyebrows rose. He had tried many brands, but this Lightning brand was the one that truly suited his palate.
"Mother..."
"..."
Locke's ears perked up. He stood up and focused on the window—specifically, the house directly opposite his. A terrified voice had just drifted from there.
There was the sound of a door being slammed and...
"Pray, little girl. Pray for forgiveness!"
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
"Let me out, Mama!"
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
"God is useless!"
"..."
If Locke's six senses weren't as sharp as they were, he probably wouldn't have heard it.
It was that girl, wasn't it?
Locke frowned, recalling the video Kahn had shown him. The girl's voice was virtually identical to the one he was hearing now.
In the U.S., sex education is generally decent; it's rare for a girl to panic over her period.
Period? Prayer? Useless God?
Alright. Locke felt like he understood the situation. An abnormally conservative, fanatical, even pathological mother, and an innocent, pitiable daughter. Daughter gets her period; mother ignores science and talks about "sin."
Compared to this, Locke felt his former neighbor, Mrs. Cooper, couldn't even be called a "devout believer."
Texas was better. In Texas, you held a Bible in one hand and a shotgun in the other! On holidays, you'd use the shotgun to "blast away" your sins and ask for God's forgiveness.
Locke stood by the window for about ten minutes until things quieted down in the house across the way. He drained his bourbon in one go.
Not my business. Time for sleep!
...
The next day, after Locke and Gwen finished their morning routine and stepped out, Cindy and Kahn emerged from their house as well. Cindy looked to be in a great mood.
Clearly, the presence of a chemistry teacher and a chaperone was no obstacle for two young people in love. In fact, it might have even been an incentive. 'The teacher is right next door... how thrilling.'
Locke drove the group to Augusta High, following the chaperone's car. Even though the competition was five days away, they had to start their pre-match drills. With a real "Study God," a fake "Study God," and two top-tier scholars, a championship was practically guaranteed, but the teacher insisted on being thorough.
Reviewing advanced university-level chemistry papers was just another day for this group. Fortunately, by the afternoon, they were released. Since they weren't in New York or on their home turf, the four of them headed to the local stadium after 3:00 PM.
Kahn looked at the stadium, which could easily seat ten thousand people for a soccer game. "Why doesn't Midtown High have a stadium this big?"
Gwen, who was talking to Cindy, replied, "Different developmental focus, I suppose."