SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12TH
6:51 PM
VANTERBEST HIGH NURSE'S OFFICE
Thankfully, the nurse's office is unlocked. Ambrose turns on the lights, pulling the curtain down over the doors' glass panel. Renny sits with a heavy sigh in one of the plastic chairs against the wall. Watts takes the seat next to her as I head for the sink, washing my hands clean of blood and vomit.
I splash my face, wincing as some of the water stings the wounds on my neck. Those won't be fun to clean, that's for sure.
Ambrose is busy rummaging through cabinets, pulling out various wipes, bandages, and bottles. He sets some on the table next to Watts as I drag myself to a stool next to the medical bed and sit down.
Renny has her eyes closed, head resting against the beige wall behind her. I can only imagine how she's feeling—but we all lowered that ax, in a way. I hope she knows that. This isn't just on her shoulders.
"Clean her wounds with this," Ambrose says, tossing Watts a plastic-wrapped towel that he just manages to catch, "and warm water. Don't rub, dab. You want to soak them."
"I can do it myself," Renny insists without opening her eyes.
"No."
"I can—"
"You're not in a clear headspace, Ren. Your hands are shaking so much that you'd probably end up hurting yourself. Just rest."
With a sigh, she opens her eyes and angles her body towards Watts. He nods along as he listens to a few more instructions from Ambrose, who seems to know what he's talking about. When he's done with them, he comes over to me, more supplies in hand. He sets them on the leathery bed, gaze trained on my neck.
"Thanks," I say, realizing that if it wasn't for him, there'd be a lot more than puncture wounds. "You know, for getting her off of me."
He gives a single nod. Then, the slightest hint of a smile as he heads to the sink to wet another washcloth. "You might not thank me after you feel this."
I shrug, but even the slight movement of my shoulders stings the wounds. "Better than dying."
I turn my head so he can clean the area, and wince at the fiery stinging sensation. I clench my fist, trying to focus on anything other than the pain. Watts is dabbing at Renny's face with the utmost care, more focused than I've ever seen him.
My eyes wrench shut as Ambrose applies pressure to the wound, and the darkness places me somewhere else. A time when my neck was covered in burns instead of lacerations and there was a paramedic tending to me instead of Ambrose. I can practically feel the hot Houston sun on my skin, can almost smell the smoke from the accident.
"Move," I demand, eyes shooting open, arm blindly pushing Ambrose out of my way as I stumble from the stool, sending it backward with a loud screech as I rush for the trashcan to empty my stomach again.
When I finish heaving, I stay hunched over the metal bin, mumbling out a weak, "Sorry."
"You okay?" Watts asks from across the room.
I nod, straightening and heading back to the sink to rinse my mouth again. I move back to the stool when I'm cleaned up, face hot with embarrassment. "Sorry," I say again, this time to Ambrose. "For pushing you, I mean. I didn't want to... you know."
"You're sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. It's... I don't handle stuff like this well since the accident with Miguel. First the blood, now this... it's just a lot, is all."
"I get it," Ambrose says, returning to his work on my wounds. "I lost my brother, too. Cancer."
I keep still, but move my eyes to meet his. But they're downcast, focused on my neck. "Sorry."
"It was panic attacks for me. Brought on by just about anything medical—which was hard, being the son of two doctors. Used to feel like I couldn't breathe any time I stepped foot in a hospital or heard the beeping of a heart monitor. I blacked out a few times when it was at its worst."
With how expertly he's been handling this, the only part of that I might've expected was his parents being doctors. "You're okay around it now?"
"Mostly. It took a lot of work. I had to really want to get better—but I did want to. I want to be a doctor someday. Help people like my brother, you know? Can't do that if I'm passing out every time I go to work."
I smile at the joke—Ambrose can be pretty funny, for someone so serious.
"It's not easy," he continues. "I'm not saying you'll just wake up one day and stop puking. We both know you can never really move on from something like that. But you can heal." He places a large bandage on the affected area, finishing his work. "There. That's about all I can do with what we have here. Take that off before your shower, clean the wounds with soap. No alcohol, just soap. That goes for you too, Ren. Take these, and change it at least once a day."
I take the extra bandages from his hand. "Thanks," I say, seeing in his eyes that he knows I don't just mean for the medical attention.
He gives a single nod before turning his attention to Watts, who's just finished putting the last butterfly bandage on Renny's cheek.
"Does it look okay?" Watts asks Ambrose, who nods in approval.
"So." Renny shifts back into a normal sitting position. "What now?"
"I think we should go back to the music room, make sure we didn't leave any evidence," Watts suggests.
"You mean apart from my puke?"
"Shit," Ambrose swears, dumping the supplies into the trash. "You're right. We should clean that up."
"Not that the police seem to believe the teenagers in this town are capable of murder," Watts says bitterly as the four of us head for the door. "But better safe than sorry. We should cover our tracks as best as we can."
We hurry through the halls, tracing our way back to the band room. Thankfully, the thin layer of blood on our shoes didn't leave tracks when we went to the nurse's office.
Watts turns to me when we reach the door. "You don't have to come in, you know, if you think... if you think you might hurl."
"I'll be okay. Besides, it's my puke. I should be the one to clean it up."
Renny eyes the door, shifting on her feet, but says nothing. Ambrose reaches for the handle, opening it slowly—and then with a curse, he's swinging it open so fast it almost hits Watts in the face.
"What?" Watts asks, catching his balance as he dodges the wood.
I look inside, registering why Ambrose is so shocked. "Holy shit."
"They're—it's—all of it. It's gone," Ambrose stutters for what I think is the first time since I've met him.
Watts and Renny hurry around the door to look inside, wide eyes only getting wider when they see the clean, empty band room. Just as it looked when we went in to hide.
"That... I don't..." Renny shakes her head. "It's not possible."
Ambrose's deep voice comes from next to me. "I don't know what's possible anymore."
"I guess it's no more absurd than what happened in the library," Watts reasons shakily. "Maybe it's a good thing. We don't have to worry about being tied to what happened, now."
Will anyone but us ever even know what happened? Will their bodies turn up somewhere? Bitten into, half decapitated? Will the police be suspicious about Bernadette's murder not fitting the M.O. of their made-up murderer?
Renny turns away from the empty room with a heavy sigh. "I don't know about you guys, but I want to get the hell out of here."
None of us have any objection to that. Ambrose lets the door fall shut, and the three of us follow Renny's fast steps to the exit.
Stepping out into the crisp evening doesn't do much to ease my weariness. The sounds of the football game can still be heard from the other side of the school, but it feels a million miles away. Laughing on the bleachers feels like an entirely different lifetime, like alternate universes are merging together, splicing happy moments with ones of unimaginable dread. I wish I could stay in that happy universe, where the four of us are friends without this bloodied thread holding us together.
But as we walk towards the parking lot, my mouth still tastes like vomit, my body aches, and the sting of the wound on my neck is enough to remind me that this isn't that timeline, and it never will be. We have a mission, and so far, we're not doing a great job at it. Darren Hoffman is dead.
"Hey—Oh my God!" The voice is coming from our left, and it gets my heart racing. I turn to see Hemani rushing over to us. "What happened to you guys?"
What is she doing here? Why isn't she on the field? The questions race through my mind. Her finding us so soon after what happened... it doesn't look good. But she can't be involved with this. She can't. It's just a coincidence.
"We... uh... We just—" My brain is too filled with suspicions for me to form any sort of coherent excuse for our blood-spattered clothes and obvious wounds.
"We got into a fight," Watts interjects. "With some of the kids from Winsor."
"Oh my God!"
"I know—it looks bad. But you should see the other guys. We kicked their asses."
She laughs, looking only a little relieved. "Oh. Well, good."
"We're in a hurry," Renny says flatly. "Sorry. Gotta jet."
"Oh—right. That's fine."
"What are you doing away from the squad?" I ask before I can stop myself. I want so badly for her to have an excuse.
I wonder if Hemani can hear the suspicion in Renny's voice. "You shouldn't be walking around alone."
Hemani bites back a sheepish smile. "I know—I was just heading to the locker room. Gotta pee."
Suddenly I feel stupid for asking. "Oh, yeah. That makes sense. But you should be careful."
"Enjoy your pee," Renny says with a wave, backing towards the parking lot and urging me with wide eyes to get the memo and stop talking. Watts and Ambrose follow her, and I raise a hand to Hemani in goodbye as she laughs at Renny's farewell.
She calls out a "Bye!" as I turn and head in the direction of Ambrose's parking space. But as my sneaker hits the asphalt, I hear her calling my name.
"Err with caution, D," Watts warns under his breath as the three of them keep walking.
Hemani hurries over, grinning. "Sorry, I know you're in a rush, but really quick—what'd you think of your first Vanterbest game? Did you see halftime?"
I nod, smiling in spite of myself. Diego, you're an idiot, half of my brain thinks. The other half is too busy drooling. "I saw it. You're really good. I mean, the whole squad. But... you, mostly."
She smiles wider, bouncing on her feet. "Thanks. It's our biggest number of the year, apart from the homecoming game. We're practicing a lot for that one—although most of the girls are more focused on the dance."
"Oh, right. Homecoming," I say stupidly. I wonder if she has a date, then mentally slap myself. Stupid question—how wouldn't she have a date? "That was a pretty big deal at my old school."
"Here, too. And this year my friends are being even weirder about it than usual."
My brain is immediately trying to make some sort of connection to everything that's been going on. I hate myself for it, for analyzing our conversation under that light, but I'd hate myself for not doing it, too. Hemani might be involved, she might not be, but some of her friends undeniably are, and I can't just ignore that. "Really? Why?"
She shrugs, frowning slightly. "Wish I knew, but they won't tell me. My best guess is some sort of big prank or something. They're keeping the loop small—I can't even figure out who's in on it."
My body floods with relief—she wouldn't be telling me this if she was involved. This has to be something to do with Joan and Bozzanath, and Hemani doesn't know about it because she isn't involved.
I can't celebrate too much, though, because if they're planning something for homecoming, that could be deadlier than anything we've seen so far. Even thinking about the amount of people who will be in danger there is enough to send me into a panic.
"Well, I won't keep you," Hemani says, shrugging away her worry. "But I'm glad you liked the routine."
"I did." As she turns away, I find myself speaking again. "And Hemani?"
She looks back, eyebrows raised in question.
"I wouldn't worry about the prank, or whatever it is. Sometimes things like that are more fun when you're surprised, you know?" Or when you don't go looking for answers and aren't killed or dragged into some kind of cult when you find out too much.
She smiles. "Yeah. I guess I didn't think of it that way."
"Well... Have a good night. Maybe on Monday, you could tell me how the rest of the game went?"
Hemani nods. "Definitely. 'Night!" Then she's waving, rushing off to the doors of the school.
I hurry to Ambrose's truck, and three sets of eyes are on me as soon as I open the door.
"I can't believe you're still talking to her," Renny says before my ass has even hit the seat.
I lean over to shut the door, grunting from the ache that travels across my torso. Being tossed around like that did more damage than I realized. "She's not involved."
Watts turns to me. "You can't know that, D."
"No, I'm telling you. Listen, she just told me she thinks her friends are planning something—some sort of prank, maybe—for the homecoming dance, but that they won't tell her what it is."
"Shit," Watts swears, obviously knowing what it means.
"Exactly. There's no doubt that's something to do with the cult stuff. And if Hemani was in on it, she wouldn't have told me about it."
"When is homecoming?" Renny questions.
"I don't know. I didn't even think to ask."
Watts sighs. "I don't know the exact date, but it's soon. They always have it way before Halloween."
"If they're planning something for the dance..." Renny shakes her head. "That's a lot of people that might get hurt."
"And that's not a lot of time to put an end to all this," Ambrose finishes.
thank you so much for the love on the last chapter!! also pretty cool, this story is being featured in the Wattpad Stars section on the homepage at the moment! :D