Chaos erupted. People in the crowd screamed, lights flickered like a disco party gone wild, and the music blasted out all distorted. Between the flashes of light, Principal Roberts looked like he was in a glitchy video game, hopping around, trying to fix the projector, but no luck. Then bam! The main lights clicked on, the winter ambience ruined in favour of the harsh fluorescent lights. The music cut, and everyone froze, like statues under a spotlight. Behind the podium, Principal Roberts' face turned redder than a ripe tomato.
"Party's over," he spat, "Everyone go home, and when I find out who did this, you're getting expelled."
There was a moment of stunned silence. Nobody moved.
"Go!!" he yelled, and suddenly, the crowd sprung into action, like they'd just woken up from a crazy dream. Emily whispered to Dakota as they braved the chilly air outside.
"I've never seen him so angry," Emily whispered, pulling Dakota aside into their own secluded spot as the crowd spilled outside.
"Who would do something like that? Was that supposed to be a prank?" Dakota pondered, holding her shoulders. "It's just so evil."
"Someone with a vendetta against Samantha, clearly," Emily replied, looking over the passing crowd, "Seen Noah around? I've not seen him all night,"
"Neither have I," Dakota admitted.
"Weird. Maybe he couldn't make it." Emily looked down at her dress. "It seems like a waste not to do something tonight while we're all dressed up. Wanna stir up some trouble?"
Dakota shook her head. "Nah, I'm kinda spooked. I think I'm gonna call my dad and just go home."
"Oh, okay. Well, text me when you're home safe, okay? And if he's taking forever, swing by my place, and we'll figure something out."
Dakota grinned. "Thanks. See ya!"
With a wave, Emily joined the stream of students heading to the dorms, leaving Dakota feeling a bit lonely again. She scanned the dimly lit school grounds—the shadowy trees, the dark alleyways—but everything seemed normal. With so many people around, surely nothing sketchy would happen, right? What was she even worried about? She tried calling her dad, but no answer. Ugh. And with Mike running off with Bianca and Noah nowhere to be found, there goes her chance for a ride back home. There was only one choice left...
"Hey there, honey!" Mrs. Crawford exclaimed when she dialed, a tad too excitedly. "How's the dance? Why the surprise call - shouldn't you be dancing and jiving right about now?"
"It got shut down. Something went down," Dakota replied succinctly.
"What happened?! Are you okay?" Her mother's voice rose with concern.
"I'm fine, Mom. It wasn't a big deal. I'll fill you in later," Dakota hesitated, then went for it. "Hey, um... any chance you could swing by and scoop me up?"
"Yes! Of course, I'll be there in ten!"
With a click, Dakota ended the call, mentally kicking herself for promising a chat later. Amidst the growing chaos outside, she shuffled over to the main road and plopped down on some steps, whipping out her phone to play Candy Crush. It was quieter here, or should have been, for her quiet time was interrupted by loud voices.
"- you should be thanking me! It's thanks to me you're not rotting in a jail cell right now!!" A familiar female voice hissed.
"I never asked you to do that for me! If you had stuck to the truth, it would have been the same. You didn't have to add certain embellishments." a gruff male voice retorted.
Dakota strained to hear. Wasn't that..?
"Oh, please, Matthew! Give me a break! The truth is embarrassing enough for me,"
"For you?" Matthew's voice thundered. "How the fuck is this about you? If that gets out, the whole school is gonna think I was screwing the best friend while Samantha... while Samantha..."
"Better a best-friend fucker than a murderer," she retorted
The voices were coming from behind Dakota on her right, and she slowly craned her neck. Behind the bush, she could just make out two figures down the side of the gymnasium. Between the leaves, she spied a periwinkle dress fluttering in the wind.
"Why are you here? I thought you weren't coming. Thanks to you I had to ask Mike, how lame is that," It was Michelle.
"I heard there was some sort of commotion-"
Michelle cut him off "- the doofus has been avoiding me all night and we lost Best Couple,"
"That's what you're concerned about?!"
"Well, if you had come like I'd asked, we would've crushed the competition. And then we wouldn't have to hide... this." Michelle retorted.
"This?" He echoed, incredulous., "What exactly is 'this', Michelle? Tell me,"
"Don't play dumb. Well... it's no secret. I mean, people can tell there's a spark. Remember Emily at Lover's Lake?"
Matthew erupted in a furious whisper. "Are you actually fucked in the head? Samantha's is fucking dead, don't you get that? Your best friend was murdered and you're talking about us and getting voted Best Couple?!"
Through the rustling leaves, Dakota caught Michelle's defiant stance.
"Oh, please. Like you actually cared about her," Michelle scoffed.
Matthew looked genuinely stunned. "Don't say that... Of course I cared about her, she was my girlfr-"
"Your girlfriend that was screwing some other guy she met online, and you took her back. You let her walk over you. Is that why you did it?"
"Did what?" He snapped, testing her.
"I thought I told you not to play dumb," she shot back.
"I never killed her."
"That's hilarious!"
"I'm serious." Matthew insisted, his tone firm. "You were with me when it happened,"
Michelle rolled her eyes. "You know she only dated you to get back at me?"
"I don't care about that! I made that very clear at dogging dunes."
"But that was different! Back then, you thought she... you know, did it herself, and you were totally blaming yourself. But she didn't, aren't you relieved?"
Matthew exploded, grabbing Michelle by the shoulders and pinning her against the wall.
"RELIEVED?! RELIEVED THAT SHE WAS MURDERED?! WHAT THE FUCK!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, MICHELLE!!"
The shouting drew a crowd, the stragglers from the dance flocking over to see what all the commotion was. Even Dakota rose to her feet, scared of what was happening. With the audience's arrival, Michelle put on her show and burst into tears.
"Help me! Oh, please, Jeremiah! Get him off!" She wailed
Matt whirled around, fury etched on his face, blood trickling from his mouth. But as he glanced at the gathering crowd, his expression shifted, draining of all emotion. Dakota caught one final glimpse of his sad face before he took off sprinting down the path into the woods
""What happened? Are you alright, Michelle?" someone called out from the crowd. Michelle looked up earnestly, clutching her shoulders and nodding slowly.
"What a jackass. If he comes back here, I'll knock him out," Jeremiah bellowed, fists clenched. It was surreal—just a month ago, they had been friends. "Should we call the cops?"
"No!" Michelle pleaded, slipping back into her sorrowful facade. "He's been through a lot this month. We should give him some space. He's probably still sorting out his feelings..."
Her head drooped, adopting a coy demeanour, waiting for someone to take the bait. And inevitably, someone did.
"What do you mean?" Someone asked.
"Well, you see... the night Samantha died, Matt and I... we were, um, intimate."
Dakota couldn't listen to any more of this. She stormed off down the steps to the main road just as her mother's red Volvo pulled up, and she clambered inside.
"Hey, sweetie. Is everything alright?" her mother's voice rang out as she executed a U-turn and sped off toward town. Dakota rested her head in her hand, gazing out at the dark expanse of the sea. How she wished she could just spread her wings and fly away right about now.
"I'm okay, but someone played a sick prank about Samantha, mocking her death. It ruined the whole party, and Principal Roberts sent everyone home."
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. That sounds awful." Her mother reached our to pat her on the knee and Dakota recoiled, then wondered why. Oh, yeah, they were in a fight. Her mother caught on too, hesitating for a moment before returning her hand to the steering wheel. They sat in silence for a few more minutes until they reached the town border, where Mrs. Crawford suddenly veered onto the shoulder, bringing the car to a stop atop the gravel. Her hands remained fixed on the steering wheel as she stared off into the distance, lost in thought.
"Dakota," she began in a voice so unlike her own, all low and serious. "I just want to apologise."
Wow. That was probably the last thing Dakota expected to hear.
"I really do only want what's best for you, truly. But that night - when news broke about that girl's murder - I just freaked out. All I cared about was finding my baby and bringing her home, and... I shouldn't have done all that. I shouldn't have embarrassed you in front of your friends like that, it wasn't right. It's just, moving to this new town and with everything that's happened, I feel myself being more paranoid than ever about you and Megan. If I could have it my way, you pair would be homeschooled and you'd never leave my sight, but... You're turning sixteen soon, and I need to respect you're growing up too."
Dakota's mouth twitched, taking it all in, before seceding.
"I'm sorry too." Strangely, it felt like a relief to say it. "I get it, know you're just trying to protect me but I shouldn't have been so... pissy about it. And I'm sorry for ruining Thanksgiving, I know you went to a lot of effort."
Tears glistened in her mother's eyes, yet Mrs. Crawford valiantly held them at bay.
"Why don't we compromise?" Dakota suggested. "You ease up o the over-protective parent front, and I'll do anything I can to quell your anxieties. I'll text, call, whatever - at least until Samantha's killer is caught."
"I think I'd like that," her mother replied with a strained laugh.. "And a curfew."
"Okay. 10pm then?"
Silence. Translation: Nope.
"Fine! 9?" Dakota conceded.
"9 suits me!"Mrs. Crawford affirmed with a smile, and they hugged it out. As they parted, Mrs. Crawford dabbed at her eyes and started the car again, driving down the road.
"Oh, you would have laughed though. The way I stormed out your father's own party to go get you. Mind you, the station was in a tizzy anyway after that bombshell dropped..."
And they laughed and gossiped all the way home.
* * *
Greenwood Bay Memorial Hospital after hours looked like something straight out a horror flick, but without the jump scares. The florescent lights hummed like a lullaby you don't want to fall asleep, there's an eerie stillness that hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the occasional beep from a machine somewhere off in the distance. The chairs look like they've seen better days, with faded patterns that were probably trendy back in the '80s. A coffee table was in the middle piled high with ancient magazines that nobody's bothered to read in years. Seriously, who wants to flip through a National Geographic from 2005? In one corner, a vending machine has been out of order forever, teasing faded snacks just out of reach. And don't even get me started on the coffee It's a crime against caffeine.
Seated nearest to the door of the doctor's office, Mike tapped his foot impatiently. Ever since he had managed to coax Bianca into his car, she had been out of it, mumbling nonsensically as he navigated the roads. Despite drying her off with his lacrosse captain varsity jacket he had left in the front seat and closing the convertible roof, cranking up the heating, she had spent the entire journey shivering. Finally arriving at the hospital, he swiftly ushered her inside to see a doctor, but that had been hours ago. He glanced at his Rolex: 2:16am. Springing to his feet, he marched back up to the receptionist, who was still engrossed in filing her nails and rolled her eyes at his approach.
"I've already told you, Mr. Miller. I don't know how long she'll be. You'll know as soon as I do." she explained with the nonchalance of someone who had mastered the art of nonchalant explanations, and Mike paused awkwardly before strolling back to his seat, whipping out his phone. Emily had texted him hours ago, asking if he was okay, and with nothing else to do, he replied.
Mike: I'm fine, I'm at the hospital with Bianca.
She's still with the doctor but I'm really concerned,
surely it would't have taken this long, right?'
Surprisingly, Emily replied almost instantly.
Emily: I understand but just let them do what
they need to do. The doctor's know best and it's
good she has someone there with her. Have you
managed to get in touch with any of her friends?
To be fair, Mike didn't even know who her friends were. Sure, he had messaged Michelle to no avail, but who else was there? Were Samantha's old crew even still in touch?
Just then, the door swung open, and in strolled a doctor in a long lab coat, engaged in a hurried conversation with a small girl with ginger curls, who had a hand pressed to her head.
"Bianca! Are you okay?" Mike called out, bounding over.
"-so just keep drinking lots of water and get to bed as soon as you can. I am bound by your right to privacy, but I would really recommend going to the police if that's a concern of yours," the doctor finished, turning to Mike.
"Ah! The boy who saved you. You're quite the hero; this could have been a lot worse if you hadn't been there." the woman said, tapping him on the shoulder. Mike didn't reply, his eyes fixed on Bianca, who herself was deep in thought.
"I'll leave you two alone," the doctor said, pressing her lips together before heading over to the receptionist, who probably had a stockpile of hospital gossip rivalling TMZ.
Bianca took Mike's outstretched hand and sat down, still clutching her head and staring into the distance.
"Thank... Thank you, Mike. I can't believe you saved..." Her words came out with much difficult, as if she was trying to hold back water in her mouth.
"Don't mention it, but how are you?" He probed again. She buried her face in her trembling hands.
"I'm fine... Or rather... I'm going to be fine, but... Mike, she said I was in a k-hole, but I hadn't taken anything, I swear. I wouldn't... She reckons I was spiked then and that I should go to the cops." She murmured, still slurring her words and wobbling side to site, as if she were nauseous.
"Oh, my god, Bianca... I'm so sorry." Mike said earnestly, "That's so messed up. If you like, I can drive to the station, its only-"
"No!" She cried, rising to her feet and then wobbling again. Mike grabbed her hand and helped back into her seat. "Sorry... I think I know who..."
"What?"
"No..." she changed her mind, clutching her forehead. "Where's Jeremiah, is he here? He was so mad at me."
"Jeremiahs your boyfriend, right?" Mike inquired, trying to follow her train of thought.
"He was so furious, Mike. We got into this massive fight before the dance, and then I wanted to get back at him... to hurt... I kept drinking and then..." She covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide with realisation."Oh, god. I told people, didn't I?"
Mike hadn't a clue what she was talking about, or even if she knew, but still, he sat, clutching her hand.
"You can't tell anyone, but we use this website. It's kinda naughty, you know 'Cupid's Bow'?" she confided, her words slightly slurred.
Mike shook his head. Part of him thought he should interrupt her, to ignore what she was saying. The way her words slurred and her head rocked side to side, she was definitely still high or drunk or something.
"It's like this like risqué site. Samantha showed it to me; it's sort of like Omegle but you chat to people in your area, oh! Like Grindr, you know that right?"
Mike said nothing.
"Well, we message people on it and then like... do stuff." She said with a mischievous smirk.
"In person?"
"God, no! We just like flash them and stuff," she said with a giggle, followed by a hiccup and then a solemn expression suddenly clouded her features.
"I don't know why I just told you all that." She stated with wide eyes, her head moving side to side. "Oh, god, I'm doing it again, aren't I? Please don't tell anyone (hic) I said that, especially not..."
The hospital's automatic doors slid open and in jogged a very red-faced Jeremiah. He sprinted to his girlfriend and engulfed her in a hug.
"Oh, my god. Bianca, I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard, what happened?"
She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes.
"I fell in the fountain. Mike saved my life."
Jeremiah rounded on Mike and hugged him too.
"Thank you, man. Thank you, thank you. You're a hero."
Mike smiled politely as Bianca rose to her feet again.
"I need the bathroom." She announced, swaying as she stood.
"Let me help you." Jeremiah said but she brushed him off.
"I'm fine. I want to..." She wandered off before he could finish, disappearing into the bathroom.
"She was spiked, you know." Mike explained behind him. Perhaps he was breaching her trust but he felt like her boyfriend should know. "The doctor reckons she should go to the police."
Jeremiah nodded solemnly without turning around. "And is she? Going to the police, I mean?"
"I don't think so."
"She didn't... tell you anything?" Jeremiah inquired.
That's your concern right now?
"She was saying a lot of nonsense, so anything she might have told me I'm going to forget." Hopefully Jeremiah could read between the lines.
"Thank you." Jeremiah said, turning around, and clapping Mike on the shoulder. "You've done a good deed tonight, but I can handle it from here. You must be exhausted, you get yourself home, Mike, and take care!"
With a nod of gratitude, Mike made his way out of the hospital taking one last look at the ginger man who had buried his face in his hands.
* * *
On Monday morning, Dakota sauntered up the stony steps of the school, her eyes landing on Mike, Emily, and Zach, who were gathered together - Zach casually draping his arm around Emily's shoulder. Dakota shot Emily a knowing glance, to which Emily responded with a faux-modest shrug.
"What's up, Arizona? Congrats on your big win," Zach called out as Dakota approached.
"Congrats on yours, Best Prankster. Sure your parents are happy you finally won something in life!" She retorted with a playful grin.
"Ouch! But yes, it's gonna look great on college applications, don't you think? Although, I clearly got out-pranked that night."
Nobody laughed, instead just shifted around uncomfortably.
"Too soon?" Zach ventured.
Just then, a gaggle of jocks strolled by showering Mike with praise and congratulations. A pat on the back, a shake of the hand. He responded politely to each, his face flushed with embarrassment.
"Who knew saving a girl from drowning would make you the big man on campus?" Zach teased, turning to Emily. "Quick! Throw yourself down the stairs and I'll save you. Then, we can finally be the most popular couple in school."
"Nice try, buddy!" She joked, playfully tapping his chest. "But seriously it was quite the noble thing, Mike, I say you deserve it."
"You're my hero too!" Dakota chimed in. Why did I say that, she thought.
"Guys... It wasn't that big a deal. What was I supposed to do - let her drown?" Mike replied, though secretly enjoying the fun.
""Hey, where's Noah? I haven't seen him since Friday," Emily interjected, scanning the surroundings.
"No clue. But hey, there's Jeremiah. I'm gonna go see how he feels about another dude saving his girl's life," Zach declared before darting off across the plaza to join another group.
"I need to talk to you guys about something." Dakota said, suddenly serious. Mike and Emily exchanged concerned glances as Dakota led them away from the bustling entrance to a secluded spot beneath a tree.
"I overheard Michelle and Matthew Carter having a massive blowout after the dance' Dakota began, recounting every detail she could remember from that night. Mike and Emily listened intently, hanging on her every word.
"That's so fucked." Mike declared at the end, shaking his head in disbelief. Emily was deep in thought.
"So, I think Michelle's lied to the police and said her and Matt were having sex while Samantha... you know. But she said that what they were doing was embarrassing for her, whatever that means."
"I mean... It's so obvious she has a crush on him - it's not exactly a secret either - but the fact she's taken it so far, that's wild..." Emily surmised. "And Matt - everyone's already suspecting him, and now with him 'attacking' Michelle, he's toast. No way he's coming back from that. Everyone's gonna hate him."
Dakota nodded in agreement.
"You mentioned something about Samantha chatting up a guy online?" Mike recalled
"Yeah?"
"I think I know the site." Mike announced, connecting the dots. "Bianca mentioned Samantha showed her some dodgy website called 'Cupid's Bow'.'"
Emily snorted a laugh. "Sorry! That just caught me off guard, a looooot of bad memories from that site."
"You know it?" Mike asked, intrigued.
"Yeah, too well. My friend and I used it when we were younger to mess with old men. Good times."
"Do you think Samantha met that guy from there?" Mike wondered aloud.
"What if its Stoade?"
Both Mike and Emily slowly turned to Dakota, Mike puzzled and Emily's concerned.
"'Stoade'? Who's 'Stoade'?" Mike asked, glancing between Emily and Dakota. Emily said nothing, it not being her secret to tell.
"You have to promise breathe a word of this to anyone. I mean it. Swear to me." Dakota challenged.
"I swear." Mike vowed.
"'Stoade' is a word on Samantha's police report. It has no context and we don't know what it means." Dakota explained, and told him all about the night she snuck a peek at it. "I've been trying to dig up info on it, but no luck so far. We're clueless if it's a name, a place, a business - nada."
"You stole and read a police report?" Mike repeated, in disbelief. "That's kinda badass, Dakota."
"Why does everyone keep saying that? And I didn't steal it, my dad did, which is why it's super important you don't tell anyone. If that got out, my dad would be in a lot of trouble."
"I'm not gonna say, scouts honour, but it's worth checking out. But how can we access Samantha's account?" Mike pondered.
"We might not need to. Surely we can just make an account ourselves and see who's about?" Dakota suggested.
Emily shook her head. "Doesn't work like that. You key in your interests and it matches you up with people, regardless of distance, and only then you see their details. It might have changed since the last time used it, though, I don't know. Plus, most people don't show their face - certainly not their real name."
"Damn, you really know a lot about this site, huh?" Mike observed. Emily shrugged.
"Hey, I've lived a long and treacherous life, Mike, and done a lot of things I'm not proud of." She joked.
"Like... talking to old men online?" He teased.
She smirked. "No comment."
"If that's the case..." Dakota began with a hint of disappointment, "Then we're at a dead end. None of know her login details, right? And we can't exactly hack her account..."
"Speak for yourself," Emily piped up, with a glint of determination in her eyes as the first bell rang, "A certain somebody owes me a favour, but its top secret."
Mike rolled his eyes. "Oh, okay. Suddenly now we're keeping secrets."
Joining the moving crowd, they made their way into the foyer and were taken aback to find Noah, who had been M.I.A. until now, engaged in a heated discussion with Hendy, who peered disapprovingly at him over her glasses.
"But I didn't go the dance!!' Noah yelled.
"You can't refund a ticket after the event, Mr. Scott. That just school policy, I'm sorry," Hendy replied firmly
"That's such... crap!"
Noah Scott? The epitome of geekdom? Yelling at school staff. The way the the rest of them watched on, you would have thought someone had come to school naked.
"Don't use that language with me, mister." Hendy scolded, crossing her arms.Noah seemed to realise how out of character he was acting and shifted uncomfortably. He mumbled a soft apology before turning around, only to freeze in his tracks at the sight of the rest of the group.
"You okay, bud?" Mike asked, breaking the tension.
"Yeah. Yeah, sorry you had to see that. I, uh..." Noah fidgeted with his glasses, "I was sick so I couldn't go."
"That seemed quite heated for just being off sick," Emily remarked. Noah shrugged but couldn't meet her gaze. With that, the group bid each other farewell as they dispersed to their respective classes. Mike, meanwhile, hurried down the east hallway to retrieve his Algebra II book from his locker, determined not to be late. AAs the hallways emptied, he fumbled with his combination, finally managing to open the locker door just as a piece of paper slid out and fluttered to the ground. Scooping it up, his face drained of colour as he read the message:
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.
* * *
After school, Emily found herself back in her dorm and, for the first time in her life, eagerly anticipating the return of her roommate. Usually, her afternoons were spent avoiding the room as much as possible, as even breathing was considered 'too distracting' to Violet and would warrant something being thrown. Hence, that's why she would would spent her time in the common rooms, her favourite spot on the deck outside, or if she was feeling particularly melancholic, a trip to the beach. But today, she sat on her bed; she had even cleaned her side of the room just to be in Violet's good graces. Besides, she was still reeling from the assembly Principal Roberts held that afternoon where he grilled the school about the formal and asked anyone with any information to come forward. As if they would now, but it stills tung all the same to have those bad memories dredged up. Dakota also let them know how Roberts had vetoed any mention of the prank in the school paper article, despite the fact that publications around town and online and already posted about it. No doubt, he was trying to silence any bad press. Suddenly, a few minutes past 6pm, the door creaked opened, and in shuffled Violet, her hair tousled and glasses askew. She took one look at Emily looking unusually eager and the pristine room, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"What do you want?" Violet demanded, dropping her bag on the floor and siding her debate textbooks onto the immaculate row of books on her meticulously arranged desk.
"Who says I want anything?" Emily shot back, but violet reminded silent, just staring as disapprovingly as possible.
Emily threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine! Do you remember last year when I helped you out with a Samantha problem?"
"If you mean when you slapped her on the quad, I never asked you to do that. And I don't think you did that just for me," Violet replied coolly.
"Well, it certainly helped you, didn't it? And it was in response to something she said to you, so I think that constitutes it being in your favour."
Violet slumped down on her desk chair and began cleaning her glasses with the hem of her skirt. "As a pacifist, I'm 100% against violence - especially on school grounds, but... Well, it was after-school technically and she did leave me alone for a while..."
"Exactly. See how much I help you out, and when have I ever asked you to return the favour?"
"Literally all the time-"
"Never!" Emily interjected triumphantly, feeling like she'd just delivered an empowering Ted Talk. Violet replaced her glasses and fixed Emily with a steely gaze.
"So what do you want?" She repeated.
"I need you to hack a website for me."
Violet broke into laughter.
"Or rather, someones log in details!" Emily corrected herself, as if that was make it easier, while Violet shook her head and turned back to her desk.
"Oh, come on! You hacked the school's website." Emily argued.
"That-" Violet began, raising her finger in the air, "was for the greater good of the school. All our information was on there - students, parents, staff - and if I could hack it, anyone could. We couldn't risk that information leaking; it would have been disastrous for the school. Principal Roberts even thanked me afterward, so there! I'm the reason we have decent online security"
What a lacklustre accomplishment, thought Emily.
"Please!" She pleaded. "I'll do anything you want,"
Violet raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
"I'm flattered, Violet, but you're not my type." Emily quipped. Violet rolled her eyes at the joke.
"I'll only think about helping you if you promise to keep your side of the room spotless, and no loud noises or late-night guests, and absolutely no stumbling home drunk at 2am on Saturdays!"
"I promise!" Emily vowed, although she already knew she couldn't do all of those. What was she - a hermit? Violet narrowed her eyes at her before grabbing her laptop and plopping down cross-legged on the floor beside Emily's bed. Emily caught a waft of her flowery, childish shower gel.
"We'll need to do it on my laptop since I have all the necessary software. What the site?" Violet asked eagerly, her voice oddly high-pitched. Was this her version of excitement?
"It's called Cupid's Bow." Emily explained while Violet typed in the web address. Just then, they were assaulted with various pop-ups: "HOT MILFS IN YOUR AREA," "THIS SINGLE LADY IS LOOKING FOR LOVE," "CLICK HERE TO GET THE RIDE OF YOUR LIFE."
"Should I be concerned?" Violet remarked, closing the pop-ups one by one. As the last of the pop-ups surrendered to Violet's fierce clicking, they were made with a dubious-looking website straight out of a cheesy '90s movie. Glitchy baby cupids shot arrows across the screen, bobbing up and down. And there it was, in all its glory, 'Cupid's Bow' sparkled at the top in a flowery font - the 'D' a bow shooting an arrow into the 'B'. Below that, the description wr enough to make even the most seasoned internet surfer blush: 'Looking for love? Looking for passion? Join now to meet the sexual partner of your dreams. Insert your kinks and we'll take care of the rest. 18+'.
Violet's expression wavered between disbelief and amusement, but she remained silent, merely biting her lip. At the bottom of the page, two options beckoned: "join now" and "log in." Violet clicked on the latter.
"Who's account is it?" Violet asked innocuously.
Here we go. "Samantha Young's."
Violet froze in her tracks, her fingers rigid above the keys. Slowly, she turned to Emily with a look that said 'what-the-fuck'.
But Emily wasn't about to back down. "Well, can you do it?"
"I'll need to say she forgot her password, and then use the new one they send to log in, but I don't think I will."
"Why?"
"Because as much as I hated her, I can't hack her stuff. Not while there's a murder investigation ongoing," Violet insisted, pressing her glasses up her nose in a dramatic flair as a physical full-stop.
Desperation flashed on Emily's face as she watched her one shot start slipping away.
"Please, I am begging you. Or just teach me how to do it and I'll do it myself," she implored.
"You can't teach this stuff in a day," Violet explained with a laugh, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "And you certainly can't download this stuff onto your laptop."
Emily's discount Dell laptop from 2010 mocked her from her desk.
"Then I'll just do it on yours, and if the police ask - not that they would - just blame me! Seriously, I'll say that... I knew you had software on your laptop and I just helped myself when you were out the room. They'll believe it since we're roommates, and given my track record with the school, it wouldn't exactly be out of character for me!" Emily rambled, clasping her hands together in a theatrical plea. Violet's eyes widened in alarm.
"You really... you really want this that bad?" She asked, full of surprise.
"Yes!"
Violet furrowed her brow and looked away, likely doing intricate calculations in her head.
"If the police ask, you did this yourself. I've never even had a detention let alone trouble with the law. I mean it, Emily," She said slowly, before beginning the load up a bunch of different softwares with various lines of code flying across the screen. "This might take a while, it might even take until tomorrow - that's if it even works..."
"Thank you, thank you. I'm forever in your debt." Emily exclaimed, her gratitude overflowing.
As Violet typed away furiously, she couldn't help but smirk, already envisioning the endless favours she'd be cashing in on...
* * *
On the bustling main street of Greenwood Bay, a sandy-haired teenager hurried down the sidewalk, clutching a handful of papers as if they were his lifeline. With the clock ticking and stores and restaurants threatening to close for the day, he darted from one establishment to the next, his mission clear: get his resume out there, and get hired. Feigning that he had to print of an essay, he had used the printers in the school library to print of 20 copies of his new resume, highlighting his strength and skills - albeit somewhat lacking in the work experience department for a fifteen-year-old. Yet, undeterred by his youthful status, Noah pressed on, his determination radiating with every step; hell, he had even put on his best dress shirt for the occasion - the one he had planned to wear for the formal that he had ended up skipping. He felt like an idiot, seriously thinking 'oh, maybe if I don't turn up and then ask for a refund, I can get back that $25'. Dumbass...
His first stop was a local bookstore he had never stepped foot inside before, but was somewhat surprised to find a cozy haven inside filled with shelves of well-loved novels and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. With a confident smile, Noah approached the counter and handed his resume to the store manager, a withering, elderly gentleman who seemed as much a fixture of the establishment as the weathered furniture that surrounded him..
"Hello. My name is Noah Scott and I'm looking for part-time work," he explained eagerly. He couldn't shake the image of the earnest boy scout from the movie 'Up' as he spoke, his voice taking on a eager sincerity that felt oddly foreign to him. "I'm great with people, and I have a passion with books."
The old man lowered the book he was reading and squinted down at Noah over the rim of his spectacles, a. Mixture of curiosity and skepticism. Noah tried his best to put on a smile though he couldn't shake the feeling of looking utterly ridiculous.
"How old are you, son?" The old man croaked, looking him up and down.
"I'm fifteen years old!"
The old man wheezed once, his attempt at a laugh, picking up his book again. "Sorry, kiddo. We only hire 18 and up."
And why's that?" Noah groaned, his irritation bubbling to the surface, his once-confident smile now replaced by a scowl.
"We sell... all sorts of books," the old man explained cryptically, gesturing towards a red curtain that concealed a doorway adorned with a faded '18+ only' sign.
"And... videos," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
"Gross," Noah muttered, spinning on his heel and making a swift exit.
Next stop was the newsagent which for some reason required at least a year of work experience. ("To stack shelves?" Noah had scoffed incredulously). The overly peppy Starbucks with dyed hair and a septum piercing had told him that everything is now done online in a scalding, positive tone that felt straight from a Disney Channel original movie. He had considered applying for Fred's Ice Cream parlour but, as a favourite spot for Greenwood Academy students, it felt more like a last resort - the thought of having to serve his fellow friends and classmates dressed like a unicorn had thrown a glitter bomb on him was too much social suicide than he could bear. With the sun sinking below the horizon, casting the town in a warm, golden hue, Noah felt defeated. He slumped onto the curb outside Domenico's, the local pizzeria. ("Sorry, we're a family business, and you can't exactly pass for Italian," they had told him.) Out of options, out of luck, Noah buried his head in his hands, not even bothering to retrieve the papers that were drifting away in the wind.
"Noah?"
Oh god. Looking up, he was embarrassed to see Dakota staring down at him clutching a polaroid camera. Her expression was a mix of politeness, friendliness, and just a hint of concern Did he really look that much of a state? The paranoia that had been gnawing at him ever since his dad sat him down last week to discuss their financial troubles bubbled to the surface, the sound of a screaming kettle ringing in his mind.
"Fine! I'm poor! I have money problems! I'm job-hunting! Are you happy now?" He erupted, anticipating for the judgemental stares, the look of disgust, the pure repulsion at such a sorry man. Instead, Dakota stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"Okay, I'm not sure what's going on but I'm here for you," she said gently, crouching down beside him. "Hey, it's okay. We've all been there. Job-hunting can be tough."
Noah blinked in surprise. "You have?"
"Well, no, although I was a very aggressive girl scout cookie-seller when I was 12, I'm talking about my mum. You should have seen her when we first arrived, she was coming home and practically ripping her hair out every night, and she has a college degree. I cant imagine how much harder it's been for you," she explained, trying to be sympathetic while not knowing the circumstances. Noah hung his head.
"Yeah, it sucks..." he moaned.
Dakota nodded. "But don't lose hope! It's just a setback not a death sentence, so just keep trying and I have no doubt you'll find something soon, the right one for you will come along you just need to keep at it."
"Thanks, Dakota," he said, offering her a small smile. "I needed to hear that."
Dakota grinned back, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Anytime, Noah. And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to or vent to, I'm just a text away. I'm not sure what's going on with you but I'm here for you anyway - and I won't tell the others, if that's a concern."
He smiled.
"Thanks. Why are you here anyway?" He asked, suspecting it had something to do with the camera she was clutching.
"Oh, you know me. I always try to get out during the golden hour to snap some pics. Even though you guys gave me a tour, I still feel like I haven't seen everywhere in town. Plus, my parents aren't home yet which means I can at least leave my yard today."
"Damn, they're really down the law, huh?"
"Tell em about it," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's mostly my mum. Like I get why but... I'm so sick of my house. Hopefully, once this whole Samantha stuff blows over, they'll loosen the reins a bit."
"Speaking of Samantha, did Emily ever crack her account?" Noah inquired. They had filled him in over lunch.
"Not yet," she replied, shaking her head. "Emily's still keeping her methods under wraps, but she's determined. Come on, if we hustle, we might have time to hit up a few more spots. How about the library or the botanical garden? Let's do it!"
With a playful tug, she pulled him to his feet, and off they went, ready for whatever adventure the evening had in store.
* * *
At the Miller household, Mike was strolling around the estate with his black Labrador, Luna, who had taken to barking at his heels while he tossed the frisbee down the lakebed. With Myles claimed the living room to watch the latest football, Myles needed some fresh air to clear his head. The sky was fading into that perfect twilight blue, and a a gentle breeze was rustling through the trees, sending ripples across the glistening waters, It should have been the perfect serene scene to quell his tension - but sadly it was not to be. The note from earlier was still fresh in his mind. He hadn't told the others, for reasons he didn't quite know himself. On one hand, he couldn't think of anything he'd done in recent memory that was bad enough to constitute getting ominous notes over. On the other hand, maybe he'd accidentally rubbed someone the wrong way without even knowing it. Like, okay, maybe he went a bit wild in his latest lacrosse match and totally blindsided Darren Wales from Ilwaco High School, scoring a sweet goal for his team. But come on, that was all part of the game, right? And that time where he had repeated Zach's joke in class slightly louder that had caused the whole room to erupt into laughter? No biggie. Zach wouldn't be sending secret notes; more likely, he'd just give him a classic noogie, like always.. As much as he tried to wrack his brain for a definitive answer, it kept drawing blanks. Perhaps whoever it was had got the wrong locker, or was playing a prank. Pranks did seem to be all the rage lately, huh?
As they just about closed their loop of the lake, Luna suddenly stopped in her tracks before barking and yelping at a pair of lights at the edge of the the estate. Sure enough, a pair of headlights from a car he hadn't seen before began to snake their way up the drive way. Luna took off towards the newcomer, leaving Mike to shiver by himself before trekking back to the house solo. The downside of being rich meant that the walk back to the house still took him five minutes. Talk about champagne problems, huh?
When at last he arrived at the back door, Mike made sure to wipe his muddy boots on the mat before slipping off his raincoat. Through the floor-to-ceiling, he spotted his dad, dressed all suave in his 'casual' Hermés white shirt that he only wore when he was trying to impress somebody (quiet luxury, he called it) who was shaking the hands of an middle-aged man he didn't recognise. Sporting a cool goatee with prominent veneers that would give Steve Harvey a run for his money, and similarly wearing a modest but still-present Burberry trench coat, the man exudes with the same magic Mitchy and all his friends had; the magic of money, fame, success. Behind him, a man around Mike's age shuffled in the shadows, his champagne-coloured hair that reached his shoulders and that was all Mike could see from here. As if sensing his presence, Mitchy suddenly looked to the air and turned round to where Mike was standing, before waving him over. Here we go, mike thought, smiles on.
He pushed himself through the backdoor, Mike turned on the switch inside his mind for his bravado and swagger as he walked on over. Yet, deep down, Mike secretly wished he could teleport upstairs for a quick shirt change or spritz some Sauvage to mask that outdoor scent. Strolling into the foyer, he caught a better glimpse of the shadowy figure lurking in the background. The guy was around Mike's age and - dare he say it - handsome. Straight out of a Calvin Klein ad, he towered at a lofty 6'4", with shoulders that screamed rugby player. His almond shaped eyes were fixed into a steely gaze, while his chiselled cheeks and sharp jawline looked like they were made of marble. Mike suddenly felt very podgy in comparison. Are you sure it too late to go for a shower?
"And this is Michael, my youngest," Mitchy announced, gesturing towards him as if he were a prized exhibit in a museum, "Mike's captain of the lacrosse team and a star pupil at Greenwood Academy. He makes the family very proud. Just this weekend, he saved a poor girl from drowning, isn't that right, son?"
"Pleased to meet you, Michael. I'm Allister Stern, I'm a business associate of your fathers. Or rather, soon-to-be, I hope."
Ahhh... suddenly the bragging makes sense.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Stern. I'm happy to make your acquaintance." Mike responded, feeling oddly compelled to curtsy.
"Well, Allister and I have some pressing matters to attend to in my office. We won't be long, I was hoping you get get to know Wolfgang in the meantime. Maybe give him a tour of the house?"
Wolfgang? What kind of name was that? And then Mitchy shot Mike a look he couldn't quite understand. It was the wide-eye, knowing look that always said 'please be sociable and engaging so I don't look like a fool' but there was also something else mixed in there a sense of excited eagerness - the one that Mitchy got when watching the Super Bowl. And then, him and Allister disappeared behind the two tall, black, art-deco doors to his office which closed with a resounding boom. Mike faltered for a moment before snapping into action, turning to the boy and breaking into his best nice guy impression.
"So, Wolfgang, huh? That's quite the name. Is there a story behind it?" Mike ventured, hoping to break the ice. Wolfgang tucked a strange of his hair behind his ear, his lips curved into a faint smile, a glint go mischief dancing in his eyes.
"You could say it's a family tradition,," he replied, his voice smooth and velvety, sending a shiver down Mike's spine. "My parents are big fans of classical music."
"Ahh, gotcha. Well, it's definitely unique," Mike remarked, mentally kicking himself for the awkwardness creeping into the conversation. "So, um, you're into classical music then?"
Wolfgang chuckled softly, a sound that resonated deep within Mike's chest. "Not exactly. I prefer something a bit more contemporary. How about you?"
Mike's mind raced, scrambling to find common ground. "Oh, you know, a little bit of everything. Can't go wrong with a good playlist, right?"
"Absolutely," Wolfgang agreed, his gaze lingering on Mike's face for a moment longer than necessary, igniting a spark of something unfamiliar yet undeniably exhilarating within Mike's chest. "So, Mike, is that short for anything? Michelangelo?"
"Just Michael," he explained, and they shared a laugh. Damn, Mike thought, this was a nice change from his father's usual guests. Typically, it was stuffy old men who spent the evening talking about politics and foreign affairs. Yawn.
"You have a lovely house," Wolfgang remarked, staring around the open-plan building.
"Really?" Mike said suddenly, in disbelief. Sure, it was nice - in an art gallery way. Most of the time, the place just felt cold and empty.
"Is it inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright?" Wolfgang asked innocently. Mike hadn't a clue who that was.
"Sure," he found himself saying for some reason.
"Your family has a keen eye for style," Wolfgang and mike was surprised to see him begin walking up the foyer to the informal living room with the free-standing fireplace, as of he was giving Mike a tour instead. "I liked this room up here, the Richard Neutra inspiration is pretty evident and this mid-century side table is Scandinavian, right?"
Mike's mind was a minute behind.
"Sorry. I should have asked - do you like architecture and interior design?"
For some reason, Mike really wanted to impress him but knew better than to lie.
"Sorry, I don't know much. I'd love to learn though, someday." He chirped. He expected Wolfgang to look disappointed but instead the man brought his hand to his chin in thought like a philosopher, eyeing Mike with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"What do you like, Michael?"
"Uhh..." Mike wracked his brain for something interest. "I like Lacrosse!"
What a lame answer... Wolfgang seemed to think so too, as he brought his hands to his hips and looked at Mike disapprovingly.
"Really?"
"Yeah... I guess. I'm kind of an open book, easy to read."
"Funny... I would have said you were quite hard to read."
Mike wasn't sure if that was good thing or a bad thing, but the playful smirk that broke on Wolfgang's face would suggest the former.
* * *
Emily was dreaming about blonde girls dancing across rooftops when Violet rudely jolted her awake. Sprawled atop her covers, fully clothed, Emily squinted at her alarm clock—it was just past 2am. Blinking away sleep, she propped herself up, the room bathed in the dim glow of a laptop screen. Violet hovered beside her, practically breathing down her neck like an eager pup waiting for a treat.
"Mmmph..." Emily mumbled, still too groggy for coherent speech.
Of course, Violet started speaking at a million miles-per-hour. "The website is surprisingly hard to crack. It looks old, likely hasn't been updates since like 2010 so I wasn't sure if I'd have to downgrade some of my software - thats the opposite of upgrade, by the way - and even though, there was no guarantee it would work and knowing Samantha, she'd have made the login and password so arbitrary sot here was really no telling. I really did try my best, Emily, but-"
"Woah, slow your roll. You're just saying random words," Emily interrupted, holding up her hand. She understand about three words of that. "What are you saying?"
Violet beamed. "I'm in!"
Without another world, Emily shoved Violet out the way and lunged for the laptop. Sure enough, they were staring at the profile of @collegegirl0101. The profile pic, rather predictably, showcased a zoomed-in shot of cleavage—clearly not Samantha's either. Emily smirked; Samantha must've employed the classic "borrowed from Tumblr" trick. Scanning the profile, Emily read: 'hey you! I'm Christine, I'm 21 and I'm a third year studying photography at college. I like strong men with deep pockets. Message me x'.
"A thank you would be nice..." Violet grumbled from behind.
"Thanks." Emily said hastily, "And this is definitely Samantha's account?"
"Yes. It's her email linked the the account," Violet confirmed.
So Samantha was just using a made-up alias. Can't be too safe, huh? One click of the button beside her profile and suddenly there was a 100-something man staring back at her, stark naked. Emily turned away in disgust ('ew!') while Violet stifled a giggle beside her.
"This is how you match with people, you just swipe through," Emily explained, beef clicking the 'messages' button at the bottom The old man disappeared - thank god! In his place, a swarm of hundreds of new messages dating up to mid-September: 'hey doll', 'Seeking an obedient sugar baby, $4000 allowance', 'Do you like ugly men?'. She scrolled through the barrage of comments, then scrolled again, and again. It was endless, and every single one unopened.
"What are you even looking for?" Violet inquired, barely containing her curiosity. Emily glanced over, softened by Violet's unexpected assistance. Sure, she was a know-it-all roommate from hell, but she'd come through today. Maybe she wasn't half bad... Torn between owing Violet back for her help and her loyalty to Dakota's secret, Emily decided to fill her, just a tad though. Enough to satiate her curiosity but not enough to keep her asking questions, hopefully.
"I'm looking for a name. Something Samantha said to me months ago... I just have a hunch," Emily replied.
"About... her killer?" Violet ventured cautiously. Emily shot her a knowing look.
"Don't worry about it, but there's no search! button!" Emily slapped the laptop's side before remembering it wasn't hers. Oops. In response, Violet snatched it back.
"You don't need one. You press control and 'F' - look!" She whispered urgently. Sure enough, a search bubble popped up. Emily took the laptop back and typed in her hunch.
Emily's eyes widened as she scanned the results. "Oh my god..."
* * *
Tuesday morning found Dakota feeling a tad drowsy as she strolled into her photography class. Glancing at the vacant seat beside hers, a pang of guilt knotted her stomach. Samantha's absence always weighed heavy on her mind; she wished Mr. Scott would rearrange the seating already. Sinking into her chair, she let her bag drop to the floor with a thud, paying little heed to it. As the last stragglers trickled in, Mr. Scott, sporting a burgundy vest today, beamed at the class.
"Good morning, class!" He called out, "Hope you're all doing okay today - Aaron, knock it off," he scolded, eyeing a jock tossing paper balls.
"Now, onto today's lesson - portraiture. Who can name the pioneers-"
But whatever Mr. Scott was going to ask that morning could wait, for at that moment the door burst open and in stormed Emily, her long hair wild and a strange empty look in her eyes, as if she had just come back from war. Advancing in her leather jacket, she fixed her gaze on Dakota, jabbing a finger.
Mr. Scott looked bewildered. "Miss Jones, this isn't—"
"Beach. After school," Emily declared ominously with her finger pointed at Dakota, before spinning on her heel and marching out again. The class slowly turned to Dakota with looks of bewilderment, while the jock began to singsong 'oooooh!'.
"I bet it's a fight," Michelle guessed loudly to her table. "Emily's scary when she gets mad."
"Alright, alright, simmer down everyone..." Mr. Scott attempted to regain control, but Dakota couldn't focus. That familiar pit in her stomach was now plumbing new depths.
The end of school couldn't come sooner, and when that final bell rang, Dakota abandoned her usual route to the car park, instead slinking out the back door with the rest of the dorm kids, strolling up the path to the building. She had texted her mum to say they were having an emergency newspaper meeting and she wouldn't need picked up. No one paid her her any attention on the route, thankfully, and once she reached the dorms and down the back, she wasn't surprised to see Mike leaning against a wooden post by the trail.
"Did she storm your class too?" he quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yup! She was so ominous about it too, people think we're fighting or something," Dakota explained, looking around suddenly to see if anyone was indeed following them to watch the catfight, but the path was empty apart from a very frazzled Noah hurrying over with a tuba case on his back.
"Why the hell do you have a tuba?" Mike asked, bemused. Noah needed to lean forward with his hands on his knees, wheezing, before he could speak.
"Ms. Grant... I said.... Band practice... so, needed something... to sell the story..." he heaved, face redder than a tomato.
"And you chose a tuba? They have triangles in there, you know?"
"I panicked!!" Noah explained and they broke into a laugh. The overcast suddenly darkened, the clear sign that a storm was coming, so without further ado, they quickly hurried down the path to the beach. Ten minutes later, they reached the bottom to find a shadowy figure with long, billowing black hair standing out the shore. With the tide out, she was but a black spot on the horizon. Talk about drama... Dumping their bags at the base of the footpath, the trio exchanged nervous glances before walking across the wet sand to meet the distant figure. Emily didn't turn around when they approached, instead just fidgeted with her arms.
"Can you tell us what this is about? You're scaring the kids..." Mike called out as they drew closer. Emily slowly turned around, her exhausted face now illuminated by daylight.. Dakota couldn't really get a good look at her earlier, but now that she was standing outside in the light, Dakota could get over how she looked like she hadn't slept a wink last night. She managed a feeble smile as they neared
"I have his name," she stated clearly, maintaining eye contact. "Clint Stoade. Ring any bells?"
Blank stares all round.
"You... cracked the account?" Dakota asked. Emily nodded gravely.
"I had... help. But yes, she was talking to someone called Clint Stoade. According to the dates on their messages, they started chatting in May - she was pretending to be a college student - and then they planned to meet that weekend."
Mike nodded in comprehension. "And then what?"
"And then, that's it. He sent a follow-up message the next day, saying something like 'I think we were both surprised to see each other, but I'm keen to keep this going, but perhaps it's better to only talk in person'," Emily relayed.
"Okay... So, what does that mean?" Noah asked.
"I don't know, but obviously they kept in contact if the cops are jotting notes about it in her murder file," Emily replied
"Speaking of police," Mike began, pulling his face and outstretching his arms, "Let's just go tell them!"
"No!" Emily and Dakota said in unison.
"If we do that, we'd have to tell them how we knew about Stoade. I can't have my dad getting in trouble..." Dakota explained sheepishly, staring at her feet.
"And I'm sure hacking a website isn't exactly playing nice with the law," Emily added.
"So, where does that leave us?" Mike scanned the group. "Seriously? What's our master plan?"
"There isn't one..." Dakota said, crossing her arms against the chill breeze.
"There's more..." Emily shifted uncomfortably. "His account was blank - no age, no photo - the only thing it had in his bio was his location: Greenwood Bay. So, if he is actually the killer..."
"He's here," Noah finished gravely, staring straight ahead. A dark chill descended on everyone and all of them suddenly started peering around the desolate beach, as if the culprit was watching them right now.
"Think that's my cue to go home," Dakota announced.
"Ditto," Mike agreed, and the four began to trudge back across the sand to the the path. Just as they began to ascend, a shrill alarm pierced the eerie silence. They looked around, searching for the source. On the bench where they'd gathered after Samantha's memorial, the black Botkier now lay on the table, the ringing coming from its depths. The group paused, and Mike shook his head furious and began storming towards the bag.
"Mike, hold up. I've got a bad feeling about this," Emily called out, following along with Dakota and Noah. They encircled the bag, hesitating as the incessant beeping continued. Mike shook his head in annoyance and plunged his hand inside. After a moment's fumbling, Mike looked alarmed at something he had grabbed, and quickly brought it out into the light of day.
It was a rusty wrench, stained with dried blood.
FLASH! The group was suddenly blinded by a camera flash, hands flying to shield their eyes. Startled, Mike dropped the wrench back into the bag and bolted towards where the flash had come from, somewhere along the tree line, Emily shouting after I'm to leave it be. Dakota took a few seconds to process what had happened before joining Noah in a sprint thought the trees after them, branches whipping their face. Emerging inside the forest, with thick roots snaking their way over the uneven terrain, they found Mike ahead, shouting into the void.
"Hey! Wait!! Who are you?!" he bellowed, but all that replied was the soft chirping of the birds.
"Mike, stop, look at me!!" Emily shrieked after him, finally catching top and seizing his arm. He didn't look at her though, instead just spun wildly, eyes darting around in search of the unknown. Dakota followed his gaze around the trees, which were eerie and spooky at this time of day with plenty of hiding spots behind the thick tree trunks, but she couldn't see anything. Noah was at her side, anxiously glancing behind them.
Emily had both arms now and forced Mike to look at her.
"Mike, they're gone," she insisted, trying to calm him.
"But th-the wrench, you don't think... Sam..." he stuttered, his fear palpable for the first time.
"It could be anything," Emily reasoned, "Let's just get out of here. Back to the bag."
With a fervent nod, Mike allowed himself to be led away. Noah and Dakota exchanged a glance before following suit, retracing their steps toward the beach. Reaching the wet sand, they halted in their tracks.
The bag was nowhere to be seen.