My First Dance (& Other Tales from Highschool)

In Which I Investigate The Case of The Sharpie Slasher

Everyone knows what happens when October comes around. People go crazy! The kids all flock to candy aisles and trick or treats, us teens and young adults get riled up for Halloween parties, and the adults are left to pick up the pieces that the youth leaves behind. I've never met one person who doesn't like Halloween, except for the girl who was scared of everything. That was in elementary, though; I'm sure there's something exciting she's found to enjoy, too. I am not an exception to that rule. I'm just as wild around Halloween as anybody else. This year, we were going trick or treating as a family per usual, me as a mad doctor and my younger cousin as a power ranger. Since his parents were always working late, they normally asked us to take him for fun things like that. Dad was even going to come down to help out. To add to the fun, my friends and I already made tons of plans to get the holiday spirits up. Everything was perfectly normal until the sharpie slasher came along.

The first victim was in the basement hall. I can't remember his name now, but I remember him racing into the cafeteria and shouting that he'd been attacked. Now, if you're in America and go to public school, you'll understand why we all panicked so much. When it came down to the real story, though, it was more confusing than anything else. The boy had been walking to his locker when someone came up behind him and put a line of sharpie across his throat. He turned around to confront them, and they were already out of sight. Because this was down in the basement, the cameras were pretty scarce, and there just so happened to be none pointed where his locker was. The assailant got away without a trace.

The school conducted one of their investigations, but I think it was mainly for show. I mean, there wasn't anything they could really do about it. Nobody got hurt, nothing was damaged, and there was really no proof that anything bad occured. Within our student groups, rumors started to spread that the boy made it up for attention. Don't blame us; a lot of things didn't add up. Your school would probably do the same. When the second and third person made a report, the truth didn't seem to exist at all. Was there really someone running around the school, marking them with sharpie? What was the point? It made much more sense for students to be lying, especially when the only proof was the mark of a marker. It was as though it turned into a fad. We all just dismissed it as some dumb craze that people did to get in the spotlight for a day. When it happened to a teacher's aid, though, the rumors were quickly shut down.

The aid said she thinks the assailant thought she was a student. It was plausible. She was young, pretty, and still studying at the local community college. She dressed like us and talked like us, and she always carried around a grey messenger bag. She told the same story as all the previous students had. She was walking to the bathroom when she felt something against her neck. When she looked down, she saw a red line going across her throat. She said she thought she'd been cut at first, but it turned out to just be another sharpie attack. That's how the culprit got their name: The Sharpie Slasher.

The news spread around the school like wildfire. By the end of the day, all the students knew and believed the stories, and by the end of the week, their friends and families would too. Eventually, just about anyone in town would hear about it sometime or another. There was even a little section in the town newspaper about it, asking for tips about possible suspects. Our school set up an email account where any information could go. Any time there was a new Sharpie Slasher victim, staff would check the cameras and ask if there were any witnesses to who did it, but they came up empty every time. Since this was just a silly school issue, police obviously wouldn't get involved. The administration had their hands tied.

As someone who had a detective uncle and read mystery books all my life, I imagined I was pretty equipped to handle such a case. I was part of the student body, so they probably wouldn't expect someone like me to be checking things out, so long as I hid my identity too. I knew my chances were slim considering the school couldn't do anything about it, but I had one thing that they didn't: Passion. The Sharpie Slasher was distracting from all our classes. I wanted him, or her, or them, gone, whoever they were. I wanted my school to go back to normal. But most of all, I wanted to make sure this mystery didn't stay unsolved.

I started an Instagram tip line right away. I knew people wouldn't rat out their friends to the principals, but maybe they'd reach out to another student from the school. It wasn't recognition I was after. I kept my identity hidden and didn't tell a soul what I was doing. Insight started pouring in immediately. It was hard to tell what was real and what was made up, but I got the hang of it eventually. I started interviewing victims online, trying to find out any information I could. By the end of the week, I had some solid information. Every attack happened between classes, so my suspect was probably a student that tried to be on-time to their own classes. They also only happened where admins and cameras weren't, so the person definitely knew their way around the school. It wasn't a freshman or someone who just came in. More than likely, it was a senior who'd been there the whole time.

It got to the point where I needed help sorting through all the information I was given. I reached out to my uncle, the one who's a detective, and asked if he could help me with a top secret mission. I think he agreed to humor me, but I didn't care what his motives were. I could use an expert's guidance on figuring out who this dude was. Each day after school, I'd take the bus near my uncle's house and come over to look at the new information. We had a great process if I do say so myself. I'd do the tech stuff and read out stuff I thought was important, and he took notes for me. He also brought stuff home from the bakery after work each day, so we got to enjoy great after school snacks during our investigation.

Everything came to a head when Halloween rolled around. We were having an assembly for the entire school. The principal wanted to talk to us about a bake sale we'd be holding to raise money for the school. The administration was thinking about building an outdoor classroom, so that's where or hard work would go. Most of us were pretty hyped. The idea of getting to work outside sometimes was really nice, and we all wanted to do our part and make that happen. That wasn't the only announcement that would be made, though. Out of the shadows from backstage came a figure in a mask and all black. It was definitely a tall teen guy, but that was all anyone could really tell. He came up behind our principal and the fundraiser speaker and put big sharpie lines across their necks. Before they could do anything, he vanished behind the curtain. Nobody found out where he went, but on the stage was a simple note made from magazine cutouts.

This will be my last move as the Sharpie Slasher. The grand finale to my game! It's been fun, but someone's been getting close to finding out who I am.. Too close. If I'm not mistaken, her name is Carrie. Good job, Freshie. Wouldn't have expected someone like you to almost find me out. Anyway, I just wanted to say my official goodbyes. If anybody from now on comes forward, they are liars or victims of a copycat. See you in the halls as my real identity ;) -SS

Nothing happened after that day, as promised. I eventually closed down the Instagram account because nothing important was coming through. My uncle and I talked about new developments for awhile, but eventually, we didn't need to anymore. As the weeks went into November, the buzz of the Sharpie Slasher was gone for good.

I'm still not sure if I'm really upset that we never caught the culprit. It'll be a mystery forever left unsolved. Ironically, that was the biggest reason I started looking into things to begin with. It'll probably drive me crazy even when I'm an old woman with wrinkled skin and greying hair. But on the other hand, it was pretty fun trying to catch the culprit. It was like investigating a serial killer but less dangerous, and that sounded like a good deal to me. It kept me busy for a real long time, and I got to spend some time with my uncle thanks to its twists and turns. Overall, I think I'm just grateful it happened at all, with or without the suspect being apprehended. We can always look back again after all.. Who's to say there won't be new evidence? Ah, a girl can dream.