MURDERER.
I stare, shocked, at the ugly red writing bleeding down my locker. The conversations of the crowd around me blur into one buzz as the blood red ink drips slowly down the metal. I clutch onto the arm next to me for support, thinking it was Sam, surprised when I felt a bare arm, as opposed to the feel of Sam's jumper. I glance to my side, and jump when I see it's Blake standing next to me. I let go of his arm like its red hot, blushing. he doesn't notice though; he's staring too hard at the accusation on my locker door.
"go on guys, leave. There's nothing to see here," I hear Jacob's voice shout. The crowd splits like the Red Sea, letting both Jacob and Kyle through. Kyle's eyes widen as he spots the writing, and he looks at me sympathetically.
The crowd disperses, leaving me and the Three, standing in front o my tagged locker.
"that's sick." Blake mutters, eyes narrowing as he moves closer to the locker.
"yeah, I wonder who did it though," Jacob mused, joining him to inspect the graffiti. Kyle stood next to me, and patted my arm awkwardly.
"don't worry about it, Kayla," he says, before tucking his hands back into his pockets. I nod, looking down at my sneaker clad feet.
"Kyle's right you know, ignore it," Blake says, and I look up. I start when I see he's much closer, only inches away. I nod again, he raises his arms, as if to hug me. I raise an eyebrow, and he stops, as of just realising his actions, and rubs my arm instead. Blake coughs once, and turns away, and I catch a smirk on Jacob's face. Not wanting to cause any more awkwardness, I let it go, letting my eyes wander sadly to my locker.
"Er hey Blake, Kyle... What the hell?!" Sam approached us, cutting his greeting off once he had spotted the locker.
"who did this?!" Sam exclaimed, looking to the Three. They shrugged, shaking their heads.
"we don't know.. But we're going to find out" Blake said, grim.
****************************************
UNKNOWN POV
I've found her. I'm positive it's her, though she's had her hair dyed brown and has gotten taller somehow, in the time it's taken to find her. I watch her at her locker, a fierce anger growing in my chest as I see the red paint dripping from the locker. It kills me, knowing who vandalised her locker and not being able to do anything. If I go to her without thinking about it, she'll push me away. There's no way she'll stick around long enough to listen to what I have to say, I know her well enough to know she'll just run. Knew her. She's changed.. that much I can see.
The guys around her seem in conversation, but she's standing on the outskirts of the huddle, like she doesn't want a part of their conversation. I don't even bother to strain my ears; I won't be able to hear them. Instead I focus on her. Her newly brown hair is in waves down her back, like she always used to have it. I prefer her natural array of browns and blonde, but I understand she dyed it in an attempt to be different from before.To try and prolong them finding her.
Her eyes wander the corridor, but she keeps glancing back at the boys, like bits of their conversation bother her. My heart lurches as her attention wanes towards my spot, and I stand against the lockers, hiding myself behind the wall. Peeking around, I see she's joined the group. The guy beside her is too close, my hands itch to push him away from her side. Jealousy. I laugh quietly, knowing there's no point being jealous. So many years I was completely infatuated with her, and she saw me as little more than her friend. The guys suddenly all nod, like they're confirming something, then three of them leave. The remaining boy puts his arm around Kayla, and my heart drops. She puts her arms around his waist, hugging him. I see tears in her eyes, threatening to overspill al she eyes the graffiti one last time before walking away with the guy. I watch them leave, walk out the doors, his arm still on her shoulders. It's only when I start to step out from my hiding place that I realise I'm not the only one how was watching, or waiting. In the silent corridor, a figure darts out from behind a door and heads for Kayla's locker. I quickly step back to hide, watching him. He reaches into a pocket and checks around him, before pulling out a can. A spray can, with a red line running around it.
I can't stop myself. Quickly, silently, I run towards him. He doesn't even realise as he's poised to spray, and I slam into him, pushing him against the locker doors. His eyes are wide, panicked, as he struggles against my hold. I glare at him, pushing him harder.
"what the hell do you think you're doing?" I snarl. He squirms out of my grip, trying to duck and run. I grab him by the scruff of the neck, and swing him back to the metal doors with a clang.
"look, it's not me, I don't have anything against her," he confesses quickly, rubbing his elbow in pain.
"it's not you?" I repeat, mockingly. He nods quickly, not catching onto my sarcasm.
"then who is it?" I ask, quieter now. He starts to say something, and stops himself. I use my grip on his jumper to push him higher.
"who?" I ask again, voice low.
"I... Wait, who are you?" he enquires suddenly. I hesitate. I'm so stupid, I didn't even plan for questions as to why I was lurking around a high school I didn't attend! I focus back on the boy, narrowing my eyes.
"I'm the one asking the questions, now answer them. who told you to spray paint the door?" I whisper threateningly. It works, I can see the guy's indecision end.
"I... It was er... Kyle!" he finally admits it, as I tighten my hold on him.
"Kyle who?" I ask suspiciously. Ive learnt from experience that it's always good to make sure you have the right person.
"Newton. k-Kyle Newton" the boy stutters, and I release him. He breathes an audible shaky sigh of relief before bolting, glancing back to make sure I wasn't chasing him. I watch him leave, not looking away until he's well out of of the door. I turn my attention back to the ugly red writing on the locker, shaking my head in disgust.
Whoever this Kyle Newton kid was, he's going to pay.
