Hidden Truths

Chapter 3

She seems to buy it and replies, "Why darling, you look as clueless as ever. Let me give you a hint. You've gotten yourself into a muddle and it's because of who you're messing with."

I try my hardest not to snort out laughing. "Oh. You mean you. No, never." I shake my head in shocked denial. "You tell me Gretta. Why would I mess with you? Why would anyone want to mess with you?"

She sighs. "But can't you see? You've already messed with me- in History."

So now she's rhyming. Nice. Well I'm not going to play dumb anymore. "Oh, you thought you could get me by playing Little Miss Perfect and teacher's pet. Or were you trying to get him to notice you? I'm pretty sure he's a little old for you, right?"

"Why you little..." She crosses her arms and stands taller.

What's the point? She's already taller than me.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is but I think it's you who should get your eyes checked, because if you had perfect eyesight, you would've seen that all I did was answer a simple question."

"Yes, you answered a simple question. You answered a simple question with a complicated ans-"

"It's called an extended answer," I interrupt.

"You did it to get at me. Where did you get the answer? Did you cheat?"

"No, I got my answer from something called a brain. I store a lot of my knowledge there. If you ever want to use some of it, all you have to do is ask. I don't mind tutoring."

She's getting annoyed now. It's obvious. "Listen Missy, I don't need tutoring. I have my own knowledge."

"Really?" I fake excitement. "I wouldn't have guessed, because if you did, you would know that arguing over something so silly as this is completely absurd."

There are noises from the crowd that sound like ooohs and aaaahs. Gretta's face reddens. Whether from anger or embarrassment I can't tell. When she speaks her tone is so sour that I can't tell if I'm dealing with the same person.

"Miss Smarty Pants, have your parents ever told you to never cross the limit? Because I have a huge space for tolerance but you've pushed it way too far."

"No, I haven't been told that one before. But about your huge tolerance level, are you sure? We haven't spoken for very long." I give her a questioning look then smile.

She screams in fury and stomps her feet. I've never angered someone, except my dad, this much before. I wasn't even trying to annoy her. I just want her to leave me alone. But maybe if I make her hate me, she'd leave me alone. Then that would mean annoying her, which it already seems I'm doing.

"And as for my parents, I don't have any. So you should be grateful you've got people to go crying and running to."

I turn around and head towards the exit. This time the crowd gives me way and Gretta doesn't say anything else so I guess she's done with me. I can feel all eyes on me as I walk out of the doors but I don't feel the presence of someone behind me, nor the presence of that person following me home.

****

At night after brushing my teeth, brushing my hair and putting on my teddy bear pyjamas, I sit cross legged in the middle of my bed and begin reading the Murder Bag. After reading the prologue, which is about six pages long, I turn the page and something catches my eye.

In the corner of the page is a picture of a woman with a large slit on her throat. Someone drew it. It wasn't there before. Looking closely at the picture, I notice horizontal cuts on her left wrist. Oh my god.

It's meant to be Mum, or her dead body anyway. I knew it. Someone definitely knows. Well, I'm not reading this. I throw it across the room and it hits the wall before landing on the floor open.

The picture, however, is the least of my worries. Who knows my secret? How did Whoever get my book? If Whoever knows, why not report me to the police already? Has Whoever already reported me? When and how will Whoever attack?

Wait, if Whoever got my book, then he or she must know where I live, right? But then Whoever must have come today or yesterday because Catherine gifted this book to me yesterday. John came yesterday. No, he was only in the garden so he couldn't have gotten in. What if someone came today when the house was empty? But it was locked and nobody broke in or I would have noticed. Great, back to square one. Unless...

No, not possible. He left us two years ago and will never come back. He wasn't here on my fifteenth birthday, he never cared about us anyway and he hated Mum. Unless...

No, not even going to go there.

Go to sleep Samantha. Think about it tomorrow or some other day.

Just as I'm about to fall asleep, I hear something crash downstairs.