The Skylar Experiment : Beginnings

Chapter Thirty-Five - Emma's Battle

SEVEN STUDENTS AND TWO POLICE OFFICERS turned out to be the final death toll. Classes were dismissed on Monday and Tuesday. Nobody wanted to come back while the bodies were still warm.

The return was painful for everyone. I'd never witnessed such a saddening morning at Oakwood High. Kids dawdled to the double doors in complete silence, heads down, without that continual chatter or laughter. A thick veil of grief covered the halls but no one dared to mention it. We waited for the bravest person to do it first.

Seven lives, and I played a part in their deaths. With Georgie, the grand tally became eight.

Emma had gone back home last night. She could manage short walks but needed to sit or nap frequently. In no way was she capable of attending class and facing the state of the school.

I rolled up in English period next to her empty chair. At that moment, Mr. Kennedy walked in. He gazed at me for a brief second, almost like the blame was branded on my forehead and everybody knew.

"Morning, everyone." He set his papers on his desk. "As you all know, there was an attack Friday at a Homecoming afterparty. I'm assuming some of you, if not most of you, were there to witness the incident."

I turned my head and locked eyes with Luc in the back corner. If anything, he looked more defeated than the rest of the school. His jaw was hard, and he went right back to forgetting about the class and me. He had to be mad at me despite what he said, there was no other explanation for it.

"I am aware that it is difficult being here today," the teacher continued solemnly. "We lost many students and even a pair of officers." At that, a sob escaped Diana Reed. She got up and left the class, not bothering to take her stuff. Mr. Kennedy paused to let her leave and nodded curtly.

"But it is important to remember that there is life after the people we know leave us. We must have the strength to grieve and move on. I hope we can recover our fellow friends through the search party to hold a funeral, and perhaps... Perhaps find peace."

I looked over at Diana's desk. The one next to hers was also empty—Rita's spot. She was a part of the students who didn't survive. I thought of how I'd seen her not too long ago, drunk and in shambles, stressing over how nobody understood what she was going through, and my throat thickened.

I wanted to scream. My fault my fault my fault my fault.

The class listened throughout Mr. Kennedy's speech, mute and numb. He told us to stay safe, and we meekly moved on to learning.

In the hall on my way to my locker, Adam's head poked among the crowd. He spotted me and immediately changed route. He opened his arms and I jumped up to embrace him, my chin comfortably settling on his shoulder. He sputtered numerous apologies, his arms tightening around my waist as if to reassure himself that I was alive.

"It's okay. I'm fine."

He distanced himself to get a good look at me. "I heard Emma is coming out of the hospital, but she wouldn't text back."

"She'll be all right." I nodded, fighting off another wave of guilt. "Her mom is staying at home to keep an eye on her. She might be back in class by next week."

Adam shook his head. "I'm glad she's okay."

I couldn't imagine the hell it would be like for Emma to return as the only person that lived through the attack. People might ask her questions. It will bring her so much attention. The school blog, driven haywire, posted only about the victims and about the police reports. The people on it would certainly blab about her soon.

As much as it tortured me too, at least I wasn't a spectacle.

Every other period was as depressing as the first. Teachers didn't want to overcharge us with homework, but we weren't particularly overjoyed. No one cared for such a meager consolation. Posters were stuck to the walls of corridors to commemorate the victims with heartfelt messages. People put notes in their now vacant lockers.

I'd decided to attend the town funeral for the victims with my father, unable to escape the sense of responsibility pending on my shoulders. Melancholy reigned the halls in the following days.

The latest posters were added to the missing kids' faces at the front door. I'd stopped again to have a side look at the patchwork. They'd had the same horrible death—only difference is that their bodies had never been unearthed.

Our Chemistry teacher fell ill. We were left with a mediocre, albeit temporary, replacement. I was watching Oakwood dissolve, and there was nothing I could do.

For the entire week, everyone focused on the investigation and on their mourning. The only thing that cheered me up was to come back next Wednesday to join Emma on the field. She'd lost weight. The textbooks she held looked heavier than herself. She looked like she could be swept away by a gust of wind, and it scared me to hell and back.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her as we walked to the doors.

"Tired," she said. She wore no makeup. Her hair was left natural. "I don't know how I'm going to catch up with homework."

People stared, and I wished I could shield Emma from their prying eyes. She hid her face in her hair, shoulders hunched. I couldn't imagine how she felt in the spotlight. Even the teachers had a hard time looking away when she strolled in.

Kids whispered in her path; some were angry that no one else survived. Emma ignored it all, but I could tell it affected her. At lunchtime, she poked around her food aimlessly.

The police even demanded to speak with her. They hoped she would give them valuable details on the rampaging animals.

Despite their best efforts, they had to release her. She began shutting down and sweating before she could offer useful information. She'd never whispered a word to me about the Wanderers or about what happened to her. Forget about the officers.

Luc and I had driven her home from the station. We exchanged a wary side glance as we got into the car. In school, I did everything I could as I stayed by her side, but damn it, I didn't know what to do to make it better. Every time I gave her an opportunity to cry on my shoulder, she clammed up. It was excruciating to see her like this.

After Emma shut the door to her house and Luc revved the engine, I sighed.

"I feel like it's just getting worse instead of getting better."

"She needs time," he replied, mouth curving downward. He never admitted it, but I knew he worried about her. Ever since the massacre, I hadn't heard a single snide or rude comment coming out of him. He wasn't digging under my skin anymore, as if it lost its thrill. "She'll make it eventually."

"How can you be so sure? What if she doesn't?"

"I know her. She's tough as nails," Luc told me and stopped at a red light.

He'd known her longer than I have. I hoped he was right.

The news spilled out of town and received attention from outside media. The next day, a reporter on school ground intercepted Emma as we brisked past the double doors.

"Miss Briggs, could you describe what happened on Friday?" The woman pointed the mic at her, nearly shoving it in our faces.

She wasn't the only one to try. Everyone wrestled to extract her side of the story, but she never spoke. Emma didn't answer this time, either. She lowered her head, and I sent the woman a scornful look for being so insensitive. Part of me wanted to slap her mic away or snap it in two.

Halloween approached, but the locals ignored it altogether, too caught up with fear. People were terrified at the idea of venturing out after daylight hours, and the investigators didn't announce an official identification. They never will. 

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Peace out, readers :) and see you tomorrow.