Cherrywood: Gothic Thriller

III

Gemma-Mae was dead— Though she had insisted to Cheyenne the night prior to join her:

"Cheyenne! Look at what I've found in my bookbag!"

They had only just arrived back at their assigned dormitory, having had a supper of potato soup and honeyed biscuits.

"Cheyenne!" Gemma had called out again.

The tall blonde had lain huddled in her blankets, a pillow atop her head. "Perhaps you can show me later. I'm a bit tired of talk of Homecoming festivities."

"Oh, please look!" Gemma's southern-drawl had grown stronger as she'd pled, "It's an invite to a senior party! How exciting that we've been noticed."

Cheyenne had remained utterly disinterested and had swatted at the redhead's hand.

"You have to come with me! You're listed on the invite, too!"

"I'm surprised a preacher's daughter such as yourself would even think of ignoring college policies. St. Augustine is strict about a freshman's weekday curfew and the Homecoming ceremony is tomorrow," Cheyenne had informed her.

"The girl across the hall got one! And Gwen Hughes, as well! I'd go with them, but I heard them making fun of the way that I say things during lunch. I suppose they aren't as nice as I thought."

"Who?"

"Gwen Hughes, remember? She's been mighty different since Rupert asked her to Homecoming. She's what my father would call a rude, little 'pratterpie'."

Cheyenne had remained quiet.

"Perhaps we can just go for a little while," she'd baited, "I'm sure that Roman is going. And Jonas and Rupert. Maybe we could each have our first kiss!"

"If you sneak out of the dormitory during Homecoming week, there will likely be booze. You'll have more to worry about than just having your first kiss. Have you even had a drink before?" Cheyenne had questioned.

Gemma had grown shy; for she and Roman had taken drinks from a tin flask that had been provided by Jonas Abrahms a few evenings prior. They had had too much, so Rupert Bentsen had driven home the Fleetwood, leaving Gemma-Mae to sit atop Roman's lap on their trip back from burgers and shakes. Roman had felt up her skirt during the ride in the Fleetwood, though he hadn't yet kissed her.

"Of course not! Well, unless you count the time that I stole a sip of wine from the stuff that they use for the holy communion," she had said, still fancying the sentiment of Roman's hands beneath her skirt. "The cute, neighbor boy had dared me to try it when we were younger."

Cheyenne had remained silent, reflecting upon the memory of her late great-aunt. She had been a contemptuous old woman, having preached to Cheyenne and her younger cousins the sins implied with consuming alcohol. They, too, had snuck a taste; as their great-uncle had owned a stash of Texas whiskey.

"I would never do it again!" Gemma had added rather quickly.

"I'm sure that god didn't miss a few measly drops," Cheyenne had assured her, having regarded the memory of her first drink fondly.

Gemma had been appalled.

"It was only a joke," Cheyenne had said.

"Well, I don't much appreciate the mention of god in that sort of manner."

"You'll have to wait until 'lights-out' to sneak out," Cheyenne had told her.

Gemma had bitten her lip determinedly. "I will. Are you sure you won't join me? We're dorm-mates and it would be quite a bit of fun, after all!"

Cheyenne had already begun to undress, having replaced her uniform with the cotton night-gown that had been strewn across her quilt. "A posh, little party thrown by seniors wouldn't interest me."

Gemma-Mae had pouted, though the task of getting ready had quickly raised her spirits.

Cheyenne had watched the young redhead as she'd applied a generous amount of blush to her cheeks and had fluffed up her hair. She had chosen a conservative outfit, though the beige knit-sweater had done well to emphasize her small bust.

They'd turned off the lamp-light and had since noticed Priscilla during her rounds within the hallway, her expensive leather loafers padding against the floor-boards as she had passed the girls' room.

"Are you two both accounted for?" she'd harped flatly, having knocked at their door.

Both girls had affirmed.

Gemma had waited patiently, per Cheyenne's advice; as she'd known that the peer-advisor would've been occupied within the opposite wing for a few brief moments.

"I won't arrive back late," Gemma had promised, having left the room hurriedly; for she'd wished to catch up to Gwen Hughes despite her previous complaints.

Cheyenne had unfolded the napkinned tartlet she had placed upon her nightstand and had wished the redhead a short goodbye.

And, thus, was the end of Gemma-Mae Baker.

◊

Cheyenne awoke that morning to a stomach ache. She had noticed Gemma's empty bed, though the discovery hadn't vexed her. It was soon after, however, that she learned of the news; for Priscilla came knocking at her door.

The peer adviser was told that some of the students who had been out after curfew had attended a party. They had gotten drunk and wandered the streets of downtown before jumping from the Skeglou Bridge. It was speculated by the St. Augustine administration that the students hadn't known of its dangerous crags and had jumped into the water, knowingly; perhaps if by a dare.

Gwen was also of the deceased and her body had been retrieved from the river, following Gemma-Mae's. Their fastened caskets sat beneath the chapel in an un-used mortuary, well-prepped and polished, awaiting Pastor Baker and Senator Hughes.

Cheyenne stared stolidly at her breakfast.

Despite French toast being one of her favorites, she didn't eat; though the apple slices and milk carton were saved in her bookbag for later.

She headed across the cobblestone courtyard apprehensively, as she was late for an ethics lecture. During her walk, she saw Rupert, Jonas, and Roman.

They hardly addressed her; though Roman sent her a backhanded stare.

It was later, during lunchtime, that Jonas had said anything to her at all. "I'm sorry for your loss," he stated, cradling his textbooks within his arms. "What happened to Gemma and Gwen is tragic. I hope that you'll soon be okay."

Cheyenne swallowed her tuna-salad. "Thanks," she told him, before resigning towards the dorms.

Priscilla had approached Cheyenne once again; this time, in front of Hawthorne Hall. She had informed her of Pastor Baker's scheduled arrival whilst her sister, Octavia, stood quietly at her side.

Cheyenne sat at her bed.

Unsure of whether or not Gemma's father would come to collect his daughter's belongings, she unpacked the redhead's dresser. Her cotton stockings, skirts, and knit-sweaters were placed within a paisley-painted chest. She stripped the sheets and pink pillows from her mattress. She removed her formal gown from its closet, along with her collection of shoes. By the time she had completed the tiresome task, it was almost dinnertime and Cheyenne had missed her mid-day lecture.

Another hour passed.

Cheyenne went downstairs and sat within the common room; as Pastor Baker hadn't yet arrived. She consumed the saved breakfast from her bag, though the slices of apple had browned and the carton of milk was warm.

Two more hours passed.

Cheyenne went upstairs and promptly fell asleep.

◊