RedZone by Timia Williams

claimed to himself. He looked over the conversation with Trey and Angel and also the statement Michele made. He needed Sevynn.
    “Hi, Sevynn, this is Detective Hart, if you could give me a call back at 215-689-9542, I would like to speak with you about the investigation.” He hung up after the voicemail and started his car.
      Trey headed back to his dorm to finish packings for winter break. He smiled to himself, feeling better about the future and his attitude. As he was packing his most important items to take home.
      He came across the picture of him and Bryce again. It had fallen behind the desk the night he was drunk. It was dusty and the glass had cracked in the frame. Trey ran his fingers across the picture and his eyes teared up.
    “Bro, we about to be stars!”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Fourth Quarter
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    0:15
     
      Everyone returned back for the Spring half of the year. It had snowed frequently during Christmas break so campus looked like a winter wonderland. Students migrated in and out of dorms and Educational buildings. The football team all sat in the cafe, loudly and laughing amongst themselves. Things were back to normal with Angel and Trey. They had even hung out during their break.
      Trey checked his watch, he had to meet with Coach Booker at 2PM. They were going to discuss what his Spring training plans and academics. As he headed over to the gym, he spotted Detective Hart walking towards Michele’s dorm hall. He shrugged it off, “Dude might as well get a damn dorm on campus as much as his ass is up here.” He had joked to Angel once. Trey and Detective Hart caught each others eyes but Trey quickly turned his head and proceeded to Coach Bookers office.
    ***
    “Detective Hart, what a wonderful surprise!” Michele said sarcastically, she also joked about him being on campus so much in the last few months.
    “Hello, Michele.” He laughed at her humor, “May I come in?” She opened her door and gestured him to come in. He had never stepped foot in her dorm, even with him exploring the campus. She lived in a single and had it set up like a teenage girls room, with pompom’s and photos of her and friends, and some of Bryce. He also noticed she had Bryce’s obituary sitting up on her desk.
    “That Henson, was a nice looking young man.” He started small talk.
    “Yeah, he was.”
    “So, I am here because I know you are friends with Sevynn Baker.” He changed the subject almost instantly.
    “ Wa s friends with her.” Detective Hart raised his  brow and she continued. “I know you’ve heard by now that she tried to sleep with Bryce.”
    Detective Hart chuckled a little, he heard the story and saw the video online.
    “Did you talk to her yet, so she can lie and say Bryce raped her?” Michele asked.
    “Excuse me?” Detective Hart was surprise to here this, it was the first time a rape was mentioned.
    “It was a lie. He didn’t rape her. Everyone found out what happened once the video was posted.” Michele continued talking as she unpacked her things.
    “Well I’ve been trying to reach her since December. She hasn’t returned any of my calls.” Detective Hart said still digesting the rape accusations.
    “I’ve heard she left the school. Guess she was too embarassed to face everyone again.” Michele said casually.
    ***
    “Pittman, this is Brady Watts, he’s the sports Writer
    I was telling you about in December. Brady was a young white man, he was slightly shorter than Trey and wore his hair slick with gel. He had a face like a underwear model, chisseled and hard.
    “Hey man, I’ve been watching you this season.” He began.
    “Yeah, Hey man, nice to meet you.” Trey shook his hand excitedly.
    “I want to write an article on you.” Brady sat down and crossed his legs. Brady figured with how his season went and him