The Beautiful Trap

Chapter Three

When I got to school this morning, I in no way expected for news vans to parked in everywhere—the carpool circle, the fire lane, the senior parking lot...everywhere.

Near the front entrance, which was guarded by this big ass steel door attached to a big ass steel gate, was a host of students in a thick circular ring, as if there were a fight going on. You know, the kind where everyone yells, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" But instead of hyped up screaming, there was a mix of anguished and frustrated screaming.

Something's up, I thought to myself. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Walking in its direction, the words became clearer, even though the voice was choking with emotion: "It's all my fault!" A female cried. I couldn't see her through all of the people, students and illegally present news anchors alike. "I shouldn't have told him to go to that bar. It was a such a stupid dare!"

"Ma'am, ma'am, why did you tell Forrest East to go to the bar?"

"What prompted this event?"

"Ma'am, what's your name?"

"Ma'am, do you have an involvement in Mr. East's murder itself?"

"Ma'am, how do you feel about Mr. East's death? Do you feel guilty?"

Journalists shouted at the girl, their sharp questions seemed to be stabbing her—her choked sobs were jagged and she was near-hyperventilating.

Forrest East...That's the just-turned-eighteen man-child that I killed yesterday. Yikes. I didn't know he went to this school! This is quite a bit too close to home. Luckily, I keep a pretty low profile at school, I wore a disguise yesterday, and no one would question me. Right? Right?

"Hey, leave her alone," A familiar voice bellowed. I say "familiar" in a way meaning: "this is a popular kid that everyone knows," not "I personally know that kid." He's Leonard Mitchell, football star in the fall and soccer star in the spring. Dirty blond hair with slightly feminine bangs, clear, light brown eyes, not stereotypical in the "jock" cliché personality: He was sweet, loyal, protective, and kind.

Unlike the crying girl, I could see his tall ass from the outer ring of the crowd.

"Have you no decency or human conscience?" He spat. "She's crying her heart out, can't catch her breath, and you animals are just picking at her like vultures. You shouldn't be at our school anyway."

Suddenly, the crowd split into two semi circles, as if Moses split the Red Sea, and Acron Height's bald principal appeared. His bald head shone with sunlight as he approached the eager journalists with chilling authority.

"Would you please remove yourself from this campus," he said, lowly, "before I have to call security and the police? We already have enough publicity and stress as it is without the mass presence of you news people. Do you understand?"

Apparently, they felt the same belittling that most students get from the principal commanding us to do something, because most of the TV vultures packed their things up, shut them into their vans, and drove off in single file lines. Most.

By the time all the vans were out of sight, the once immovable crowd had begun to dissipate. The girl Leonard had been standing for was Savannah...Savanna something. She's a short and short-haired brunette with dark blue eyes she made with contacts. Not too high on the popularity totem pole, but not too low either. A step or two below Leonard, for sure. Extraordinarily ordinary.

Leonard wrapped his arm around her shaking shoulders, pulled her to his side, and the two of them walked past the giant gate into school. Well, he was walking and she was being dragged along.