The Death Game

Chapter 24

Mary (Chapter 24)

Treyvon Clark's POV...

I ran around the room, but found no one there. Surely she's here somewhere. I had another idea about where she might be. I raced through the hallways and came to a stop in a room marked 303. This must be 'er room. If I remember correctly dat is. I knocked on the door 3 times. "Mary! Mary open up!" I cried. "Coming, coming," a voice said inside. It sounded very feminine. The door opened and a female figure stood in the way. She was combing her hair. Mary looked at me with disdain and disgust. "Oh, it's you. Well, make it quick. What do you want?" she asked. Why are so many 'eople so racist? I pretended to ignore that. "Mary, I wanted to ask you a question," I said. "What is it? Also, can you please use deodorant the next time you come to me? You smell." Something about this Mary girl reminds me of someone. The she-devil. Lady Daphne 'arks. Despite being noting but rude to meh, she and I became friends in the end. I smiled at the memory. "What are you smiling at? You're not trying to flirt with me, are you?" "No, it's not dat. Anywhoys, I wanted to ask you how ya feel about Francine and Lady Daphne. Can ya tell me about 'em?" I asked. Mary raised an eyebrow and looked at me, eyes flaring with suspicion. "Listen here, black guy. I don't why you want to ask me about my opinion on those girls..." I held my breath. She gonna say no. "But I do enjoy gossiping to other people. It's not something I do much here since everyone is busy fearing for their lives. I never imagined myself gossiping to a person like you, though. But I guess I won't be picky. You're here. You want to hear some gossip. I'll give you some gossip! It's my hobby anyways," Mary said. I was surprised. Dat was...easy. 'ut I don't like gossip. I faked a smile. "Great. Tell me all about 'em," I prompted her. Oh boy, this is gonna take a long 'ime fo sure. "I'll start with Lady Daphne since I hate her the most," Mary said. That got my attention. "You 'ate 'er?" I asked. Mary nodded. "Of course I hate her. Isn't she such a brat? I mean I get that she's a famous fashionista and everything, but who wears heels in a death game?" I looked down at Mary's shoes. They were heels. "As I was saying, Lady Daphne is just such a brat all the time. I mean, I know she's, like, older than me and everything, but I really don't like how she's always so...bratty. I had to resist the urge to choke her in the beginning of the game," Mary said. So 'he ain't Lady Daphne's murderer. Interesting. Very interesting. I was about to tell her to go on, but she just interrupted me and continued her rant. "But even though I hate her, I have to admit, her fashion sense is superb! Of course that's expected since she's a diva. I sometimes wonder whether or not she's cuter and has more fashion than me...I'll never admit that to her, not that I can. Anyways, that's enough rant on Lady Daphne, time for Francine. Oh boy, this is going to be a good one!" Mary exclaims. "So, you know how Francine is always 'Oh no, I broke my arm, but I'm okay! Don't worry about me?' I think that's, like, soooo annoying! It's such a cheap trick to get attention! But then everyone's like 'Oh no! You broke your arm! We have to worry about you! It's not like we can't worry about you! That is sooo annoying. I want that girl dead!" Mary cried. Dead? She wants Fran dead? She seems to be jealous of Fran. Is 'he actually the mastermind's partner? "One more question, did the mastermind happen to...let ya keep yer phone? I found a phone and I wanted to return it to its rightful owner," I explained. Mary's eyes beamed. "OMG! YOU FOUND A PHONE THAT THE MASTERMIND HASN'T CONFISCATED?! SQUEEE! Ahem, it's definitely mine, you should totally give it to me since I am the owner of the phone. I'm sorry, but is it a cell phone or a normal phone? I forget my phone model sometimes," Mary said. Yep, 'he's definitely innocent. "Alright, I'm done with ya. Ya can go do whatever yer doing before I came 'ere." I turned to leave. "Oh, Mr. Black guy?" I turned around. "Yes, Mary?" I asked. "You don't happen to have any...." "Any wot?" "Any concealer on you, do you?" Mary asked. I sighed and walked away. "I'll take that as a no, then," Mary said.