The death and the disappearance

Death and disappearance

I'd like to introduce myself before we start this gripping story. My name is Andromeda, named after the nearest major galaxy to the Milky way; my mother was an astronaut, her dream was to reach the Andromeda Nebula, either by robot or spaceship. Although she never managed to before her untimely death, I was left to carry on her legacy. I plan to follow her footsteps, complete her mission, no matter what it takes. However it may be a while before I can, as I am still 16, and in high school; my classmates are all idiots, I can't wait to leave. As  well as my strange name, my mother also gifted me her quick brain; I have an IQ of 127, which means I am in the top 5 percentile, and also means I can be quite insufferable at times. Trust me, I do not try to be, but it is hard when people are constantly making mistakes and getting things wrong. My father tells me it is human to make mistakes, so I guess I am not; sometimes I believe that my mother did manage to make it to the Andromeda Nebula, and all she found was me.

I believe that is enough information about me for now, don't worry, you'll find out more as I tell this story. It starts on a rainy day in March, Friday the 13th of March at 1:15pm  to be precise, when a girl's body was discovered, found deep in the woods by our school, and a missing boy, the quarterback.

Mariella Stone, 17 years, 11 months and 30 days old, found with a rope around her neck, washed up on a riverbed; ruled a homicide.
Diego Alcaraz, 18 years, 3 months and 13 days old, reported missing on Friday 13th of March at 6:47pm, last seen on Wednesday 11th of March at 11:26pm walking down Lake Shore Drive by Isabella Saunton; presumed dead.

The 'it' couple, the high school sweethearts; both gone. The news devoured the gut wrenching story, playing it out as a tragic end to the perfect people, destined to be a suburban couple with three kids; but not everything is as it seems, the news only knew what the police released, which was nothing compared to what this book will reveal. So all I'll say is buckle up, you're in for one hell of a ride. 

It has been a month and 7 days since the death of Mariella Stone, the date is Monday the 20th of April and my clock rings at exactly 6am as I regretfully roll out of bed. The rain patters lightly onto the window beside my bed, reminding me to grab an umbrella on my way out. Dad's already gone to work, he's a bit of a workaholic, but it gives me more freedom, so I won't complain.

My best friend - Carla Moore - who I met when I was 3, is constantly talking about her strict parents and their protectiveness. She is always whining about the freedom that her older brother gets, I decided a long time ago to not point out the fact he is 4 years older than us, and therefore a legal adult. I met Carla when we moved next door to them, back then my mother was still alive, back then we were just kids. I still remember the first time her brother took us into the woods to his secret hideout, a small abandoned cabin that he had put some chairs in. Back then it was the coolest adventure ever, we used to play tag for hours in those woods; our parents won't let us go in them since last month though.

I walk out of my house and Carla is already waiting for me, we chat about boys and school as we usually do on the way to school. I find it strange how quickly everyone has moved one; in the first few weeks it was all people could talk about, people put up shrines and pictures, talked about keeping their memory alive. Then it turned into theories and guesses about the murderer, people turning to the idea that Diego killed Mariella, or that his jealous friend Isabella killed them both. It was widely known that she liked Diego, and she was always quite a horrible person, but I didn't think she was the type to actually kill someone, let alone two people. But now, after a month, people got bored of it, turning to the football games and idle gossip. Although rumours about the killer flew through the school every now and then, people rarely believed them anymore; and so the beloved high schoolers became forgotten, a thing of the past.