I slowly trudged to the office, watching other kids turn, stare, turn again and whisper to their friends as I passed. They all know what happened, I realized. News sure does travel fast.
Among the sea of students I could easily make out Sean. Why didn't you help? I thought, shooting him a look that I hoped conveyed frustration but more likely just looked betrayed and confused. He furrowed his eyebrows in sorrow, but kept walking without a word. Okay, now I feel betrayed and confused.
As I walked to the office, I glanced around. I could see a kid clutching his stomach; a couple kids wearing backpacks and sweaters waiting to use the phone; a kid behind the counter sitting with a kind-looking woman, they were slowly reading a children's book aloud; and... Dylan.
I met his eyes and saw a grin creep up onto his face. I glared and sat next to him.
"This is your fault," I sneered. He just chuckled.
"I don't remember grabbing me by the collar and slamming me against the brick," he said.
"I don't remember kicking my boyfriend and calling me a Brit," I shot back.
"Neither do I, Brit," He said, and I had to pinch my arm to stop me from punching him.
"Stop calling me that," I growled. "I was born and raised here in Utah just like you. I never chose to be born to a British man. So maybe stop nagging me about it, trash." He held a hand to his chest and gasped exaggeratedly.
"You call ME trash?!" he said. "How incredibly rude!! Don't you remember that's why you're in there in the first place?" He smirked and jabbed a finger at me. I swatted it away.
"You're in here, too, Dylan," I reminded him. "Don't pretend you're better than me; you swung at Bunny before I came anywhere near you." He snickered to himself. "What?!"
"I still can't believe you call him that. What's next, faggot? A cottage in the forest, the smell of fresh bread in the air as you pick mushrooms for your dinner stew?" He laughed sinisterly. "Man, I'm sorry I ever made friends with that guy." My blood began to boil and I snarled, but was interrupted before I could make a good retort.
"Mister Bailey, I'll see you now," called an older woman's voice from the nearby door. Dylan smiled and stood up cockily from the low chair he was sitting on.
"Can't wait to see you in Juvie, Brit!" He said, moonwalking to the office. I glared, but did nothing.
~~~~~~~~
"Oh, yeah, Tyler?!" shouted a distant female teenager's voice. "Maybe I SHOULD stab you!!"
"Do you hear that?" I asked quietly, stopping on my tracks. Evan nodded, also stopping. When Foxy finally stopped moving and I could hear better, I listened again.
"You're only jealous because you're stuck in that hunk of a machine and you can't move around like I can!" Said another, much younger, male voice.
"Do you WANT to be thrown again? Because you're asking for it!!" shouted the girl. The boy, Tyler, shrieked.
"MILLIE, STOP!!" he shouted. "I was just teasing, I swear!" Millie sighed loudly.
"Who do you think that is?" I whispered, still as a statue. Evan shrugged.
"Probably more ghosts," he dismissed. "These Freddy's places are riddled with them. You know Jeremy's sister- er, broth- um- Penelope. Penelope is hanging around somewhere, too;" he gestured to the large, lit-up stage, where just beyond the curtain sat a dim blue light and some decently loud breathing. She seemed to be asleep, but knowing his brother, he was probably just pretending. I wouldn't put it past her, I thought to myself.
