“The body of seventeen-year-old Casey Ann Radley was discovered late last night by her neighbor in Griffin Park. Authorities are baffled by the lack of motive, as we’ve just learned that the young woman slain last night was drained of blood and then dumped not a block from her house. This town is in shock and nobody can quite believe the grisly nature of this crime, although this is not the first time this small community has endured such heartbreak. Only weeks ago was another student, high school senior Blaine Ryder, killed in a devastating car accident just outside Prescott Hills.” The reporter paused, motioning to the light pole beside her where numerous missing persons’ flyers had been taped. “And as you can see, there remains this constant reminder of the tragic disappearance of 21 teenage county residents…”
Carly squeezed my arm tighter as I looked to see Brittany’s weather-worn paper portrait clinging pitifully to the rounded metal. But her face wasn’t the only one that caught my attention. My blood ran cold.
Despite the madness brewing outside, it still paled in comparison to the pandemonium ensuing in the hallways. Some girls were crying while others were gossiping about all the possible ways Casey could had been murdered.
“I bet it was that freak, Blackburn,” snarled Ava Ashford. “He probably had to use her as a virgin sacrifice…since someone else we know clearly couldn’t be it.” She cast me a pointed glare.
“Like you’re one to talk,” growled Carly. “We all know you’re a whore of more than attention.”
Malice flashed in the cheerleader’s eyes, but she merely smirked. “Says the girl who’s been ridden more than a carnival pony.”
Carly suddenly sprang forward, nearly tackling Ava before Daniel snatched her up by the waist and pulled her back.
“Whoa! Down, girl.” He towed her to the other end of the hall, refusing to release her till she calmed down. “As much as we’d all love to see a catfight, this really isn’t the place for it.”
Carly finally ripped out of his hold, seeing several cops making their way towards us.
“Ms. Montgomery,” greeted one of the men as they passed by.
“Officer Blake,” I gritted through clenched teeth.
He smirked, following the others into the principal’s office.
“You know him?” asked Daniel.
“We’ve met. And I can guarantee you, if his sleuthing skills are anything like what I’ve witnessed, they’ll have about as much luck finding Casey’s killer as they will Jimmy Hoffa.”
I kept my eye out for Reese, but didn’t cross paths with him as Car and I made our way to the art room. Mark was already there, lying across one of the back tables. His eyes remained shut as he air-drummed to what we realized was Drowning Pool’s “Bodies” as we approached the tableside.
“Perhaps not the most appropriate song of choice, considering the circumstances,” remarked Car, prying one of the buds from his ear. “You know, with the murder, and all.”
Mark blindly fished inside his pocket for his phone, his smirk unrelenting as he switched songs and unplugged his headphones. Sure enough, My Chemical Romance’s “Helena” filled the room.
Carly swatted him in the chest. “You’re going to Hell.”
“At least I’ve earned my stripes,” he chuckled, his eyes still closed.
“Perhaps you’d like to earn some extra credit as well, Mr. McDowell,” announced Mrs. Brightberry, slamming an armful of boxes down beside his head. “Heaven knows you could use it.” By her pinched expression, she’d clearly overheard the exchange, still scowling at the music blaring throughout the class.
Mark finally opened his eyes as a wound up section of decorative string lights plopped down on his stomach. “It’s a little early to deck out a Christmas tree, isn’t it?”
“It’s for Homecoming,” corrected our art teacher. “And unless you wish to sit out Friday’s big game, you’ll take up my offer.”
This earned Mark’s attention, as he snapped upright like a vampire springing free from its coffin. “Come again?”
“You’re very well aware of our policy regarding one’s GPA, Mr. McDowell. Since you have more of an affinity for slacking off rather than actually putting in any effort, your grade in here reflects it.” Mrs. Brightberry pointed to the small stack of boxes piled in the opposite corner. “All the supplies for the Homecoming dance are being stored in the old weightlifting room. If you want the necessary boost in your grade, you’ll go up there and bring the remaining supplies back down here.”