Scary Kids (NaNoWriMo 2019)

Chapter 14.

It occurred to me that walking back into this somewhat of a humorous hell hole might not be the greatest idea after what happened last time. Last time being something like six hours. Anyways, I'm certain that this adventure won't turn up anything, but there's no way I'm going to spend forever looking for this ghosty guy.

Although technically speaking, the school is up and running like always, however, it feels oddly abandoned by the adults of the town. Some students seem to slow in the hallways barely picking up their feet as they walk around. They look paler than even me.

Almost like cracking up my joints for a boxing match, I bring myself to the point where I had the best chance of someone being able to see me, organless and all.

"Hey, you!" I stop a kid who just turned down my way. "Where's the funeral?"

"Uhmm," he thinks. "It happened this morning so I assume they've probably moved on to somewhere else."

"Thanks," I say sarcastically while flipping the books he was holding into the air as I disappear back into obscurity.

He almost falls to the ground, his knees giving out when he realizes what I just did.

I take an unappreciated breath to try and figure out what to do next. The atrium was the only place filled with things that might provide some answers, so I make my way there, spotting the brightly coloured flowers from a mile away.

With no one around, I rustle through the candles and cards spread out almost as if it were a sacrificial altar. Many read like gibberish, practically nonsense from people who've passed by Elijah in between classes. Within all this sorrow, however, a basket of brisk white roses stood out to me in the corner of it all. I plucked the card held just above it and scanned it.

Nothing... Absolute rubbish.

I pitch the note as far as I can across the room and yell at it like a disappointed parent.

I let my hands hit my thighs, "I give up! I don't know what I need to do for you, you stupid world. I'm trying my best! At least I think so?"

My first instinct is to always scream about the stuff that is making me mad, and I know it's not the best place to start, but it certainly makes me feel somewhat better. Okay... maybe not, but my personal placebo definitely reminds me that I'm not a completely horrible person. Then again, Elijah obviously thinks I am. So... he might be right, and I guess I just ran into another person that showed me that I'm not really alone, and I hate myself for believing otherwise.

By the time these living zombies had left the school property, I was nowhere closer to figuring out where Elijah was. Maybe walking around would have been the more efficient thing to do? It's kind of hard for me to come up with that conclusion since I no longer have any brain cells.

It was nice to be able to walk out of there without any trouble this time. The sky had quickly turned dark and only the sounds of teenage girls chuckling amongst themselves caught my attention. They were standing under the cover of the willow tree that stood about a hundred feet from the school's side door. I could see the flicker of a lighter in between their hands as they each lit a cigarette.

"Why are we even doing this here?" one of the three girls asks as I come upon them.

"To show these motherfuckers that they can't stop us," the tallest girl replies letting out a puff of dark smoke. "Why else would we be doing this?"

"Because everyone's gone home and you're not afraid of someone seeing us," the girl snarkily remarks.

"Plus," the final friend joins in, "the guy died, so no one is here anyways."

"Shut up Rebecca!" the tall girl yells at her.

Rebecca? I didn't even recognize her.

"Hey," tall questions after a moment, "weren't you friends with that girl who died last year?"

"Yeah, so what?" she inhales.

The girl raises her shoulders in curiousness, "what was she like?"

"She... was fine," Rebecca tells them.

Just fine?

"Well," she twitches her arms, "she was a good friend. Nice. She would be rolling around in her grave if she knew I was smoking."

Damn right I am.

"It's just been hard... I guess it takes the stress off for a few minutes, "she says, yet quickly changes the subject. "I can't even begin to think about why someone would want to murder her."

"So it's true?" the two friends chime in.

"Maybe," she hesitates, "yeah- okay! At least that's what her dad told me in a letter he sent a couple days ago."

My dad writes her letters? I know I should probably be more concerned with the fact that they think I was murdered, but my dad left a drunk. There's no way he would have cared enough to actually keep in contact with my only living friend.

"When he heard about what happened this week, he decided to reach out, but it's kind of hard to believe him. I don't think anyone's seen or heard of him since he went awol," is all she says more.

I wasn't sure if I necessarily wanted to hear that, but I couldn't take back what had already happened. I'm happy that the old man is still alive, yet why wouldn't he come back? Why wouldn't he say it in person?

"I've got to go," Rebecca tells her friends as she extinguishes her cigarette butt with her shoe.

"See ya, then," the tall girl waves her off.

Decidedly having no other choice, I follow her through the streets of Sandsville, into a wooded path and then in a clearing that seemed like I had been here before. Scorched ashes laid around a bundle of logs and that familiar trunk used for sitting told me exactly where we were.

"Come on!" Rebecca shouts impatiently.

I had no idea how she knew about this place, but her shivered steps seemed uncomfortable even for me.

"Hey bitch!" someone shouts, pining her up on a tree before we even knew that they were there.