Missing

Chapter 2

Dean took a long breath, his face turning red due to blood pressure. "Sir I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

He yelled at her, "It damn well shouldn't, now get out of my sight before I decide to fire you!"

Clarice, eyes full of tears, walked out the office, only to be faced by a mob of adults with narrowed angry slits, and some shocked, they don't know anything. She walked brusquely to her classroom and shut the door, clearly warning others not to face her right now. She dabbed her face free of the tears with a tissue out of her pocket, and sat down on the chair.

What have I done?

Is it my fault?

Emily's missing and it's my fault!

Maybe I should....no

They would do the same if they were in my shoes

Multiple thoughts were running through her head, and as she could not concentrate, she had dismissed her whole day and went home, saying she was not feeling well.

Someone had decided to mouth off to the best gossiper of the school, Lauren Hilt, who was famously known as the Mother of Gossip. She was hard to miss with her long blonde hair and the mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes as she walked down the corridors. Whatever was told to her, no matter how big or small, spread faster around the whole school then a wildfire on a hot day. Rapidly in less than an hour the whole school was buzzing from the news, and Emily's friends were mostly the centre of attention, so that meant slapping their faces with makeup enough for two decades literally.

Classes went on as normal and a replacement was found for Mrs Clanks who had took several days of all of a sudden, many sceptical of forced pressure on her. The police were seen walking around the school asking questions to students and staff who were connected to Emily, but to no avail.

It was soon lunch and one policeman was sitting in the headmaster's office. He rubbed a hand down his clean shaven face, clearly showing signs of distress and irritation. The headmaster noticing, laughed nervously and asked, "So officer, have you found anything?" leaning forwards towards him.

The officer looked dead on into his slightly grey eyes, clearly not finding anything amusing about this situation. He looked away from him, speaking slightly low as if to himself, "No Dean, nothing at all. What kind of a school are you running here anyways?" he said turning to face him, "I swear most of the kids come here for drugs, sex, and alcohol. The girls look like hookers from Vegas on every street. Either you're ignoring it or really that naïve." He laughed at Dean who now looked as though he could see in the future where he had no job surrounded by the so called hookers in his musty old apartment with scattered beer cans. He shuddered and let out a shaky breath.

Paul was one of heck of policeman, while he was seen as young, though only in his early thirty's, had accomplished more than most officers. He took his job seriously and was respected highly. Except for his nagging wife. While he loved her and would do for all eternity, he sometimes wished...wished he never looked in her direction at his cousin in laws wedding.

Paul was not ugly nor extremely handsome, but somewhere in the middle. He was slightly built, with the training he was forced to endure for a year. After he came back...well his wife didn't let him leave the house for a few days. The most noticeable feature of his was the really dark hair that complimented his green eyes.

The officer set down his sandwich and leaned back into the rocking chair, deep in thought. His fingers were tapping the smooth wooden armrest and the other rested on his knee. Each tap of his fingernail on the armrest was seemingly growing louder and deafening in Dean's ear and was afraid he was going to explode. The silence in the air was broken by the crackle of the radio on his yellow jacket.