Haunted Rayne

17 - Mysterious Messages

The black Toyota Camry hummed along the corner of West and Maple Street in the quiet town of Lockwood, Pennsylvania. Officer Emma Scott stood shivering outside of The Falcon Tavern, pinching a cigarette between her fingers. It was a habit she hadn't indulged in since college. Yet, as she tried not to envision the scarred boy who had visited her hotel room last night, all Emma could think about was lighting one up.

It was a rather cold October morning. The idyllic shops lining the main road were quaint and rustic—the closest shops around within a forty-mile radius. Emma trembled, feeling as though her fingers were thin as bones as her skin pruned away from the icy breeze. Her car's engine droned on, and the exhaust it pumped into the air behind her created a small wave of warmth that just barely reached her left side. Emma scrambled to drop three coins into the nearest payphone, not wanting her next call to be traceable back to her cell.

In no time, the head of administration answered, and Emma quickly sputtered, "Hi, yes, can I please have the extension for, uh, Dorian Matthews?"

On the other line, Miss Portia Maxwell chuckled. "Oh, well, good morning to you too, ma'am. If you don't mind, I'll begin by asking a few questions: Is this regarding a student you have enrolled here?"

"Uh, yes," Emma answered, nodding. In her left pant pocket, her cell phone began to ring. She read the caller ID— "Nick ♡" —and hit ignore before saying to the secretary, "Yes, that's exactly it."

"Alrighty." She could hear the clicking of a keyboard through the speaker. "Our faculty here at Maria J. Westwood does not have direct extensions intended for parental contact, however, I can personally assist you with whatever questions you may have regarding your student's grades and/or treatment. May I please have your first and last name, followed by the last four digits of the child's social security number?"

Emma groaned. "Can you just . . . let Dorian Matthews know that someone's trying to get a hold of him?"

The secretary paused. "Who is this?" she asked slowly.

"Just tell him it's urgent," Emma blurted. She eyed the placard above the payphone and read its corresponding phone number aloud. "Have Mr. Matthews call that number at exactly six p.m. I'll be waiting." She threw the phone onto the receiver and pulled her jacket closer to her neck.

Last night, the scarred boy had spoken to her, and it appeared he had a dire message to relay to none-other-than the eerie specter's lookalike himself—Rayne Foster's homeroom teacher—Mr. Dorian Matthews.

◢✥◣

For the first time since Rayne Foster met Cole Bradford, there was a stream of guilt that suddenly began trickling through her veins whenever she looked at him. She couldn't pinpoint its origins, but it was now a constant leak that dripped along the walls of her conscience, and the icky feeling that accompanied it was spreading across her heart like a colony of mold spores. The instant Rayne relayed the fact that she would indeed be attending homecoming with Cole Bradford, his answering smile was the biggest and brightest she had ever seen it.

"I knew you'd say yes," Cole said, grinning. "But, like, actually hearing you say it . . . feels . . . I don't know how to explain it. It just feels great."

They were seated at a booth in the Dining Hall for lunch, and across the table, David Sheppard was glaring daggers into her sides. Rayne raised her shoulders and tried to smile. "Glad to hear it," she mumbled, scratching her neck. "That, uh . . . That doesn't mean we're dating though, okay?"

"Oh, of course not," Cole replied, but he nudged her shoulder and smirked in a way that made her stomach sink.

Rayne was in the middle of the booth with Cole Bradford on one side, Pierce Harrington on the other, and Lucas Abbot on Pierce's right-hand side, just on the outskirts. Across from them, sitting left to right, was David Sheppard, Spencer Callaghan, Jackie Kwon, and lastly, one unexpected guest, Miss Hillary Berkshire.