Boarding School Connecticut

Chapter 7

Where did Matteo go?

Mr. Edwards, his gaze sharpened by authority, turns his attention to two mischievous troublemakers, Bryce and the bespectacled boy beside him. Their stifled laughter catches the teacher's ear, prompting him to address their disruptive behavior.

"Mr. Redsvolve and Mr. Bletcher, be quiet. Your classmates are here to learn," Mr. Edwards stern voice manages to settle the snickers easily.

The elderly teacher's gaze sweeps across the classroom, analyzing the diligent students engrossed in their studies. Yet, his watchful eyes catch a discrepancy—a vacant seat that should be occupied by Tulsi Bhardwaj. His eyes drop to his wristwatch, the hands ticking away, whispering the passage of time: "Fifteen minutes?"

He lifts his eyes, addressing the students once more with a mild sense of concern. "Could someone please go and check on Ms. Bhardwaj?"

The classroom seems to hold its collective breath, students peering up from their worksheets, faces filled with curiosity and avoidance.

"Anyone?" Mr. Edwards repeats, his voice laced with an earnest plea, his gaze scanning the room for a willing participant.

The seconds tick by in silence, the tension mounting, but still, no one steps forward to break it.

Before he can prompt the class again, a piercing, gut-wrenching cry shatters the hush of the hallway beyond the classroom door. Shock ripples through the room. While some eyes widen with confusion others show fear.

A couple of students exchange bewildered glances, Mr. Edwards springs into action, his concern shifting to a heightened state of alertness. His aging limbs propel him from his chair, the legs scraping against the floor as he rushes toward the door.

"Everyone, remain in your seats," Mr. Edwards commands, his voice a stabilizing force as he pushes the classroom door open. Stepping into the hallway, his gaze darts in both directions, taking in the scene that unfolds before him. A surge of concern wells within him, but he focuses his attention on the distress unfolding to his left.

Closing the classroom door behind him, Mr. Edwards advances toward the office on his right, where an intricate web of emotions seems to be enmeshing before him.

Josefine is kneeling on the ground by the doorway, overcome by her tears.

"What is going on here?" he inquires gently, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of turmoil.

Luca stands in front of Josefine, his face etched with a blend of shock and urgency, his phone clutched in his hand as he hastily dials a number. And then there's Tulsi, who slowly turns around to the teacher as a portrait of disbelief and distress.

The unexpected words that tumble from Tulsi's lips freeze the air in Mr. Edwards' lungs. The weight of her revelation crashes over him like an unrelenting wave, and for a fleeting moment, his own heart seems to cease its rhythm.

"H-Hayley, Hayley Finegrat...she...she is dead," Tulsi's voice stumbles, the words carrying a heavy burden that leaves the hallway suspended in an eerie stillness. The announcement lingers like an unspoken truth, a reality that refuses to be ignored.

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Seated on the benches outside the imposing school building, I lean back, my spine pressing against the cold metal of a round table. The weight of recent events bears heavily on me, and I'm lost in the tormenting cycle of replaying the scene in my mind, each detail etched into my consciousness.

"How did you know she was in danger?" The police officer before me inquires, his gaze steady and expectant.

Before I can provide an answer, his phone abruptly comes to life with a ringing tone. He swiftly apologizes, his attention diverted as he steps aside to take the call. The momentary interruption allows me to sink back into my thoughts.