Amity and Willow got back in time to see what was so important about the ceremony.
Willow didn't seem bothered by the conversation in the woods, immediately going to sit with Luz and Hunter. But as Amity took her seat with her cello in front of Jericho High's marching band, the sick feeling that had been quietly churning in her stomach since that vision only grew—more so as she looked up at what had just been unveiled.
It was a fountain.
A fountain that had a statue of Crackstone fixed atop it.
Amity didn't believe in heaven or hell, but she did believe in revenge. She usually served it warm with a side of pain. And yet, through all her fifteen (nearly sixteen) years of exacting punishment, she'd never had to face an adversary cast in bronze.
"Welcome, everyone!" Mayor Berry announced, a smile as fake as Vernworth's fixed on his face. "I am thrilled to be here to celebrate Outreach Day, as well as our noble forefather, Joseph Crackstone. Now, he believed that with a noble heart and an open ear, there was nothing our town couldn't achieve. So, together with our friends and community at Nevermore Academy, we've built a monument to celebrate his memory! May the spirit of Joseph Crackstone be memorialized for all eternity!"
Over in the stands, Amity noticed Hunter doing a "gag-me" gesture and Luz immediately covering her mouth to hide her giggles. She felt a small sense of pride at that, though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't like they were really her friends.
The marching band began to play a cover of "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac, which made Amity internally wince. There were plenty of incredible songs written by that band, but this was far from one of them. Really, Stevie Nicks was the best part.
Nevertheless, she dutifully played along as Mayor Berry turned the fountain on with the slam of a button on his podium. A quick glance over her shoulder proved that Ghost had already begun to set their little plan into motion.
She kept her face neutral—which wasn't hard to do—as the spark raced towards the fountain. People did notice, and they did point, but Amity just kept playing that insipid little song.
Until the fountain exploded, that is.
As the crowd started screaming and scattered in different directions, Amity instantly switched over to Vivaldi's "Winter," a maniac smile slowly forming on her face as she picked up the intensity.
It sounded much better, honestly.
................
"WHAT! The ACTUAL! FUCK!" Principal Vernworth screamed, pacing back and forth. "Of course, of course, the SECOND I finally decide to stop watching the Wittebane kid to figure out if he takes after his smug-ass uncle, a BLIGHT comes along! A Blight who sets fire to a FOUNTAIN! A fucking FOUNTAIN! HOW DO YOU SET FIRE TO SOMETHING FILLED WITH WATER?!"
Amity looked around his office with her arms folded, waiting for him to calm down at least a little bit. Or, at the very least, consider the fact that gasoline was a liquid, very flammable, and easy to fill a fountain with.
"I have lost count," he ranted, waving his still unlit cigarette in the air, "of the angry emails, phone calls, people in town, alumni, parents! They want answers, and you know what? SO DO I!" He spun around and gave Amity a furious glare, foot tapping at an alarming rate. "Well? Got anything snappy, spunky, and self-assured to say for yourself?"
"I have nothing to say," she responded. "My hands are clean."
In fact, everyone's hands were clean. Ghost didn't even use her paws.
Vernworth let out an incredulous laugh. "Oh, well, forgive me if I don't exactly believe the girl who just sat there and shredded some Vivaldi while everyone else was rightfully flipping their lids."
"I don't exactly know why you're surprised," Amity said, sitting forward. "You do remember what happened the last time someone built a monument that glorified colonialism and genocide in this town, correct? It does make sense that history would repeat itself."
"You—you—ugh—"
Principal Vernworth stopped, snatched a lighter from his desk, and lit his cigarette, taking an aggressive drag that ended with him blowing out the smoke directly into Amity's face.
"Missy, you are on thin ice," he hissed. "Wafer thin."
She stood up. "That little explosion was a protest, not a needless act of violence. A protest against rewriting history, against countless barriers, against centuries of outcasts being treated like second-class citizens or worse—"
"Jesus fucking Christ, what are you on?"
"I'm talking about Jericho," Amity said sharply. "Why does this town even have an Outreach Day? Don't you know the real history?"
Vernworth froze, then elegantly regained his composure with a sigh.
"Yes," he clipped, stabbing out his cigarette onto an ashtray. "To an extent."
"Then why be compliant in its cover-up?" she pressed. "Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it."
"You see a problem, I see an opportunity," Principal Vernworth said, smiling thinly. "This is a chance to build a new chapter in normie-outcast relations, without dredging up uncomfortable pasts—"
"Nothing has changed since Crackstone, Adrian. They. Still. Hate. Us," Amity emphasized. "Only now, they sugarcoat it with platitudes and smiles. Don't you want to fight for the truth?"
"First of all, call me Adrian again and you can kiss any and all privileges you have good-bye," he snapped. "Second of all, of fucking course I want the truth, but the world isn't always black and white. There's a million gray areas that you've chosen to completely disregard."
"I operate in shades of gray constantly, but there are none in this situation. It's either they write our story or we do," she told him. "You can't have it both ways."
Vernworth's eye twitched slightly. "Do you have any idea how exhausting you are?"
"Yes."
The two of them stared each other down for a minute or two.
"Get the fuck out of my office," he spat. "And tell the rest of the staff that you're the reason I've started smoking again."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night while your lungs are slowly rotting inside of your chest," Amity said drolly, turning around. "And I agree. We're done here."
She could feel the daggers of his razor-sharp glare digging into her head. It felt oddly satisfying to know she was capable of pissing off the ever-charming principal that much.
..............
"I don't care if you were sitting right next to me on the bleachers, Hunter," Luz lectured into her phone as Amity walked back into their dorm. "Your limbs move on their own even if they're not attached to you, and you could've easily yanked off a hand while I wasn't looking."
Amity blinked, unsure of what she'd just walked into.
"Wh—what do you mean, I'm just being a crazy conspiracy theorist?! You're the one who brought up your uncle's arson case this morning! Excuse me for making the clear connection!" She paused, then rolled her eyes to the sky. "That's just Amity, Hunter. An explosion in the middle of the town square is probably her idea of a beautiful atmosphere that deserves a musical accompaniment, and it doesn't mean—"
Luz stopped as soon as she noticed Amity standing there.
She raised an eyebrow. "Talking about me?"
"Hunter, I'm gonna have to call you back," Luz said, then stuffed her phone into her pocket. "Where were you? I've been grilling Hunter about that explosion all night, and he won't admit anything! I specifically told him to not set fire to—okay, I told him not to set fire to Pilgrim World, it figures that he'd find a loophole, but come on, he could've at least waited until after my dance routine! I spent over a week practicing it! And he claims that you're the one who did it, for some reason—"
"He's right," Amity interjected, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
Luz stared at her, openmouthed.
"I had Ghost pour gasoline into the fountain and send a spark to light it," she explained, feeling more and more unsure the longer Luz stared at her. "I just didn't think that this town needed to continue to put Crackstone on a pedestal. I found out some things today, and he was the exact opposite of the hero everyone makes him out to be—"
"Amity." A grin spread across Luz's face. "Why didn't you let me in on it?"
She faltered. "I... you sounded as if you disapproved."
"I was mad at Hunter because he didn't tell me anything about it, and I knew that the cops would treat him worse since he's a Reanimated, but now that I know it was you, this changes everything!" Luz said excitedly, running over and taking Amity by the wrists. "You're standing up to colonialism and whitewashed history, one explosion at a time!"
Amity carefully pulled away. "You're really not upset?"
Luz groaned, flopping her head backward. "Amity, do you realize how irritating it is for a queer girl who looks like me to hear the same shit about how this old, cishet white dude who was definitely racist, sexist, and homophobic was supposedly morally pure and good? And I looked into the history," she added, holding up a finger. "He wasn't big on outcasts, either. Making us praise him is like spitting in our faces."
"Oh." Amity bunched some of her skirt fabric into her fist. "Then... I suppose I don't need to tell you about my vision."
She regretted the words as soon as they exited her mouth.
Luz's eyes grew big as saucers. "What? No. Yes. Vision? What? Yes. Tell me. Now."
Amity's first instinct was to deny it, put up her walls, and return to her writing time. But something about Luz made her feel like she could trust her.
So she sat her down on the floor and told her everything. Including the horror show she'd seen.
When she finished, Luz's brown eyes were swimming with tears.
"I... I apologize." Amity cleared her throat, feeling a little awkward. "I didn't intend to make you cry."
Luz shook her head, wiping them away. "No. No, I needed to hear that. Thank you." She stood up and started for the door.
"Wh—where are you going?"
"I'm going to give Principal Vernworth an earful for continuing to support Jericho honoring that monster," Luz snapped. "And while I'm at it, maybe I can get him to get Mayor Berry on the line—"
"Luz, that's not going to work," Amity told her. "I already tried with him. I didn't get anywhere."
"But—"
"No buts. Trust me, there are better ways to show everyone the truth."
Luz blinked back the rest of her tears, cracking a tiny smile. "Like... burning down a statue to give Crackstone a taste of his own medicine?"
"Look at that." Amity returned the smile. "We're finally speaking the same language."
They stood there for a beat before Amity stepped back, clearing her throat again. "I should get back to writing. I'm already behind—"
"Um, no," Luz cut in, moving in between her and her typewriter. "Don't get me wrong, I'm psyched to have a fellow writer friend, but after the day you've had, there's no way I'm letting you continue to work. You need a break."
"My day wasn't that bad."
Luz folded her arms. "You had your ancestor contact you from beyond the grave so she could show you the most traumatic event in her life. I'm ordering a TV binge-watching session, here and now. You said that you owe me a favor, after all."
Amity sighed. "No offense, but I doubt you and I have the same taste."
"Ooooooooh." Luz grinned. "Then you have obviously never heard of the YouTube phenomena that is Helluva Boss. C'mere."
Ignoring Amity's slight protests, she pulled her down next to her on one of the shag carpets, grabbing her computer.
"So, this show is majorly R-rated, but I thankfully have two pairs of Bluetooth headphones for that exact reason," Luz whispered, handing Amity one of them. "You're gonna love it. It's set a whole new standard for adult animation."
She scoffed. "In my experience, adult animation uses edgy jokes to cover up the fact that the art and writing is horrific and inane—"
"It's about a bunch of queer demons living in Hell who run an assassin-for-hire business, and the art and character designs are top-tier."
Amity paused, thinking it over. "I will admit, that sounds incredibly intriguing."
Luz beamed. "See? Let's get started."
The show itself was raunchy, bloody, and filled with enough sex jokes that Amity almost instinctively checked the credits for Emira's name. She tended to dismiss all animation as being insipid, adult or no, but the show actually had surprising depth to it underneath all the gore, and it was stunning to look at. Amity even had to forcibly restrain herself from looking truly sad during the more crushing moments.
After they were done, Luz turned to her. "So... what did you think?"
"I believe I've stumbled upon a new hyperfixation," Amity answered. "Thank you."
Luz squealed and started to throw her arms around her, then stopped. "Wait. Forgot. Not a hugger."
Amity removed the headphones. "I must say, Luz, you're incredibly surprising. You enjoy pastels, pop music and everything peppy, but you also make odd taxidermy, watch shows about demons, and read books about girls who paint their faces like skulls—"
"Wait, wait, wait." Luz held up a hand. "Have you never read the Locked Tomb series?"
"It doesn't ring a bell."
"Holy shit! How are you so out of it!" Luz shrieked, leaping to her feet and running over to her bookshelf. "Amity, these books are tailored to you! You're literally a purple-haired version of Harrowhark!"
Amity frowned slightly. "I'm sorry?"
"Just—just give it a try," she said, shoving Gideon the Ninth into Amity's hands. "In between your murder investigation, of course."
Murder investigation.
In getting drawn into a new piece of media, Amity had nearly forgotten about what she was here to do. But it came flooding back—and with it, a better understanding.
She recalled a saying that she'd learned long ago. Once was happenstance. Twice was coincidence. And three times... was proof.
Annabelle's warnings about Crackstone were in the past. The monster was in the present. And Bria's drawing took place some time in the future.
Those were three coincidences that she knew were connected.
How, she wasn't sure. But everyone involved had some sort of secret.
Amity just needed to unearth them.
A/N: Okay, yeah, it's official---after the next couple updates, I need to go on a hiatus to catch up. Hopefully, it should only be a few weeks.
In the meantime, I posted something new over on Owl Odyssey... *eyes emoji*