Life Within The Halls

Chapter 3: "Where is Daniel Blay?"

LIFE WITHIN THE HALL

Victoria

Tuesday, February 10th, 8:15 a.m.

As I sat next to my mom in her helicopter, which had just touched down on the sports field, I gazed out the window at the compound of my school. I couldn't shake the weight of expectations resting on my shoulders.

Being the school founder's granddaughter, class president, and a politician's daughter came with its own set of pressures, but there was another burden I carried—one that wasn't written in the history books.

Among the students, I saw few faces that resembled mine. I was that brown-skinned girl, the one with a white mother and a black father. The one who inadvertently became a symbol of hope for many students.

I wasn't my parents' only child, but since I was the oldest of two, I got all the responsibilities.

My life was supposed to be amazing with all my titles and lavish lifestyle. But honestly, it didn't feel that great. I longed to be like my little sister, free to make mistakes and have fun. But my mom wouldn't let me. And now, with the school's 30th anniversary just a month away, I was too busy planning to even check my phone or watch television. I had no idea what was happening in the outside world.

Following the helicopter's departure, I walked into the entrance, weaving past Principal Wilson and the detective handling Hannah's case. They were obviously conversing on something related to Hannah's death.

My attention shifted from them to a small group of students reading the school newspapers. Their reactions to whatever was in the papers made me curious about the headlines. What was making the news?

The School Magazine Society had started again with their unnecessary big headlines. I had hoped they would have left it in our previous semester, but they didn't seem to disappoint me.

I quickly rushed to the newspaper stand, just inches away, to catch a glimpse of the headlines. The first headline, "Fly High, Hannah: Beloved Head Cheerleader Remembered," didn't surprise me, since I was already aware of it. But the second one left me stunned:

"Junior-year student, Daniel Blay, has been lost in the woods!"

Lost in the woods? Couldn't the SMS come up with a better headline than that? They could have just used 'Missing.' So unprofessional!

I took out my phone to check the news about Daniel's disappearance. I never liked reading the school papers—they seemed biased and focused on trivial things—so I opened the X app instead. The first thing I saw trending was #WhereIsDanielBlay.

Daniel's family was outside the country, making him a resident student, so where could he be? Was he kidnapped or did he run away? How could he go missing with all the school's security measures in place? And incredibly, on the very day his girlfriend died.

As I pondered, a burst of giggles and whispers erupted behind me. I turned to face three girls. Their faces flushed with guilt, and they hastily turned off their phones. It was clear they'd been talking about me.

I beckoned them over, and they came closer, one of them holding out her phone for me to see.

On the screen, a video of me giving a speech at the previous day's ceremony played, but with a ridiculous twist: my head had been replaced with a chicken's.

My face burned with humiliation, and my eyes constricted into slits as I glared at the phone.

"Go," I said, tampering my anger, and the girls hurried off.

Who edited and posted that video? What kind of person would want to make a mockery of me?

A suspicion simmered in the back of my mind. There was only one person capable of pulling off such a stunt: someone who had a score to settle. He was the only one brave enough to challenge me, and his massive following on Instagram made him a formidable foe. It could only be him. Jayden Scott.