Thankfully, I was able to lose myself in thought during economics.
I still stuck with my gut feeling that the murderer wasn't Ian, and that added onto the other belief that Ethan was not bad. It was like his family was cursed to be the outcast family because of that murder. I wondered if solving it would help them.
What was I going to do when (if) I found out? Announce it in front of the town hall? Mail a letter to everyone in Cheshire (because I believed not everyone had home internet, let alone an email address)? There was also the little matter of proof. I shouldn't have agreed to meet Ethan after school. I wanted to get home and search for those thirteen flipping pages.
Well, I was stuck, so I decided to think about something else.
There was no reason for me to be upset about Ethan's cold shoulder. It wasn't my fault, and it definitely wasn't his. It was probably habit. How had he managed group assignments before? Did he end up doing all the work or not participating at all? Did the teachers leave him out of groups? That must've been one sad childhood.
I started to wonder what Cynthia might've done to Ethan. Why had she gone out with him in the first place? Had she been nice before? I hadn't known her long, so I couldn't imagine her being nice and not judgmental.
The bell rang, startling me. On my way out of class, I texted Mom I was staying after school with Ethan for a biology project. Yes, I wasn't being honest about the murder mystery, so I figured the least I could do was be honest about the normal stuff… like school and hanging out with social outcasts.
She was fine with it as long as I brought home a gallon of milk and some cookies. When Mom edited stuff, she always had milk and Oreos (or the available Oreo equivalent). It looked like she wasn't bothered by the idea of me hanging out with Ethan. Maybe she thought that whole 'Everybody Hates Ethan' thing was wrong too.
I texted Charlie that I wasn't going to be able to give her a ride home, and she replied her grandmother was going to pick her up anyway, so that was also taken care of.
I had to retrace my steps from when I ran away from Cynthia in order to find the building with the pool. The building looked relatively new, and it was somewhat outside the circle of buildings that formed Cheshire High School. It wasn't very visible.
After peeking through each window, I found the pool. He wasn't there yet, so I decided to wait a while; I didn't know where his last class was.
I took off my jacket and set it with my backpack on the floor against the wall. It was pretty warm and blue in the room. The reflection of light from the bottom of the pool danced across the walls. I kneeled down and touched the water, which was also warm. I was tempted to jump in, but with no swimsuit—not happening.
There were two diving boards at each end of the pool, each a different level. I was never brave enough to dive into the pool from the highest or even second-highest level. I was always worried I'd torpedo straight down and crash into the bot—
Movement caught my eye and I turned.
There were also three different doors leading into the room, including the one I'd entered through, but none of them had opened. I thought I'd seen something move near one of them. I went around the pool towards one of the doors. Were the other two locked? They probably led to the lockers, maybe one to the boys' and the other to the girls'. Maybe someone had the idea of going for an after-school swim. If the teachers had their own Wi-Fi, I didn't put it past them to also take advantage of an empty pool.
Well, the door was locked, which started to worry me a bit. I was probably the only one in the entire building at the moment (or that no one would hear me scream). I thought I'd feel safer if I waited out in the hall where Ethan could find me (and I could be easily seen). I was walking around the corner of the pool when the lights at the bottom went out, leaving me in the dark. I probably should've stopped moving but I was still in the middle of walking and I stepped right into the pool.
I panicked a little, yes, but I was just very surprised. I knew how to swim, but swimming in the dark was very different. For example, which way was up? I was pretty sure my eyes were open because they stung a little, but there was no light—so no point. I started swimming like a frog (the only way I knew how) but I wasn't feeling the surface. Was I swimming down? To the other side of the pool?
I was going to run out of air in a few seconds and I couldn't tell where I was going. Worrying, I decided to hold still. Would I float up? How long would that take? If I moved, would I go faster or slower?
Something grabbed my right ankle!
All hell broke loose and I started kicking and trying to propel myself upward but nothing was working. I reached down I couldn't feel whatever was holding my ankle! I almost screamed but I managed not to and I started yelling in my head I don't know Beatrice's name was she doing this oh my God I was going to drown where was Ethan I was going to die the freaking Saw mask flashed before my eyes and then I actually screamed.
Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap—I could feel the water go up my nose and into my lungs and I automatically started coughing and choking I tried sucking in air and drowning and there was no more air I was dying no more choking no coughing no moving just dying I saw Beatrice standing in front of me her white dress and laced up boots
She had my face she looked sad she shook her head did I die she shook her head her mouth moved she was talking I couldn't hear her hands were clasped behind her back she brought them forward she held pages thirteen from the diary Beatrice had them she knew where they were where are they she pointed up heaven she shook her head said something I didn't hear it she let go of the pages they flew up around us I saw one I saw a name Walker
YOU ARE READING
Cheshire Girl
Paranormal"There were three things about which I was absolutely certain. First, I didn't have my cell phone. Second, my hands hurt from gripping the trunk lid closed. They would probably be useless to put up a fight. ...
