Page 153 of Pride High 3: Yellow

“Maybe,” Ricky said. “Why?”

Diego grinned, gripping the wheel tighter in satisfaction as he pushed down on the gas pedal. “Because I have experience with this sort of thing. We’re going to need an alibi.”

CHAPTER 25

May 15th, 1993

Anthony was lying on his back while in bed, listening to Depeche Mode’s latest album through his headphones. The music had been in frequent rotation since coming out in March. While it didn’t quite reach the same heights asViolator, the aptly namedSongs of Faith and Devotionfelt like it was written by someone in the throes of passion. Which made it the perfect soundtrack for the endless love coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes and pressed the headphones even closer as “In Your Room” began to play and thought about being wrapped in Cameron’s arms. Soon enough he would be. They were going to have lunch together, and maybe afterwards, Anthony would suggest they go back to either of their rooms so he could do anything and everything that his boyfriend wanted.

He was just getting into the fantasy when he felt the bed shake. He opened his eyes in confusion and saw his older brother Mike kicking the mattress with a socked foot. Anthony reluctantly pulled the headphones away from his ears to ask, “What?”

“You tell me!” Mike demanded.

Anthony took the headphones off completely. “Huh?”

“The police are downstairs. They wanna talk to you. So what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Anthony said, sitting up in shock. “For real!”

Mike studied him a moment before shrugging. “Maybe someone died.”

He thought of Cameron and was on his feet in a split second. He pushed past his brother, who followed him downstairs. Their parents were standing in the living room while talking to a balding middle-aged man with a tidy brown mustache. Anthony wouldn’t have assumed that he was a police officer, because instead of a uniform, he wore dark slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie.

His mother saw him first, her face lined with worry.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “Did someone get hurt?”

The stranger pounced on these words. “What makes you think that?” he asked.

“I told him someone probably died,” Mike explained. “So did they?”

“That’s enough,” their father said. “Go clean your room or something.”

Mike rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen. If he was anything like Anthony, he’d linger there to listen in.

“Okay,” Joe said. “What’s this all about?”

The man studied Anthony a moment before smiling and offering his hand. “Hey, bud! My name is Detective Truman. Do you know why I’m here?”

“No,” Anthony said while shaking his hand. “Is it about Cameron?”

“Who’s that?”

Anthony looked to his parents. Brenda nodded. “My boyfriend,” he explained.

Detective Truman raised an eyebrow at this, his attention lingering on Anthony’s pink hair, before he made a note in a small pad of paper. “Where were you last night?” he asked casually.

“Here,” Anthony answered.

“On a Friday night? You didn’t feel like spending time with this uh… boyfriend of yours?”

“He had a school play. Cameron builds the sets.” And never wanted Anthony to be there on opening night, since it would make him twice as nervous knowing he was in the audience.

“Uh huh. And did you come home right after school?”

Anthony looked at his parents again, who seemed just as confused. “No,” he replied. “I stopped by the record store.”

“Which one?”