One Clue Behind

Prologue

    Finally, a chance to light my candles.

It's a dark and cold night out tonight, and I'm finally alone. With my best friend and dorm-mate gone for the night, I get a quiet —once in a blue moon chance— night to myself. I needed some peace and quiet. Especially from Jeremiah. I don't know if I can trust him all too much recently. I pour myself a hot cup of apple spice tea, using an automatic, plug in tea kettle, and wrap a large fluffy purple blanket around my shoulders. Getting my laptop and plugging it in, I take in the silence and the flicker of the pumpkin scented candles around me before laying my fingers down across the keyboard.

Ever since becoming Briarcliffe Academy's chief editor of the creative writing journal, I've been interested in continuing a writing career. Before, I just read true-crime and sappy romance novels over and over again until I had to tape the spines back together. I became the chief editor in my first year here, I transferred after my childhood best friend Olivia did. The public high school we used to go to didn't have much to offer academically or scholarship wise. Thus, the transfer.

Olivia moved to Briarcliffe in our freshman year and I followed suit in sophomore. Within my first couple of months, I had taken many writing classes and workshops and quickly worked my way up the ranks to the chief editor. It's a lot of work, but I love it. More specifically, I love the mystery section. Mystery, thriller, and suspense are my forte, my downfall, my everything. Well, aside from Olivia, who kept me sane through my first few weeks at the Academy. I was lucky to get here though. My parents had made me wait a year to save up enough money for the tuition and here I am. Sharing a dorm with Olivia, dating the cutest boy, befriending new people. A damn social butterfly, I'd say.

Just as I start to edit and review some entries for the writing journal, my phone pings with a new text. Sigh, so much for the peace. I shift my laptop off of my lap and unplug my phone from my nightstand.

The text from Olivia catches my eye and I open it immediately, doubt blooming in my heart and dread wells in my stomach. I already know what kind of text this is. And I know it's not going to make my night any better. I sigh and pick up my phone, hesitating over the hidden text on my lock screen.

I roll my eyes and swipe the blanket off of me, I knew it. I knew it! This is not the first text like this from Olivia. I look at my barely touched mug of tea, the steam still floating in the air above it, a tinge of sadness for the sweet, hot drink stings my mind. Looking at the hot scarlet liquid, I turn around and look for an insulated tumbler. While doing so, I strip off my polka dot pajamas and exchange them for a pair of black jeans, a red button down long sleeve and a gray cable knit cardigan. Not being able to find a tumbler only adds to my frustration and I decide to leave the mug on my nightstand as is, I'll just reheat it, I guess. Or make a new brew. I slide on some black leather mini booties, grab phone and dorm keys and I head out.

Briarcliffe normally has a curfew, but on weekends, it's later than normal. So I don't have to request access to leave or try to sneak out, I hated doing that. I lock my door behind me and scuttle down the three flights of stairs from the dormitories to the back gates. Through a shortcut behind the academy and a 15 minute walk in a pedestrian only, woodsy area, is our rival school. Crystal River Preparatory Academy. It's not unusual for two schools to be so close, and still be settled in town. "We're all very friendly here," is probably what most of the older people here would say.

I think about the text Olivia sent me not even twenty minutes ago. Anxiety starts to bubble up in my chest. Then, from anxiety to exasperation, I rub my cold hands together, wishing I had brought another layer of warmth with me. Definitely could've used that tea right about now, I think to myself and how soothing the apple drink would have been for such a cold walk in the woods. I never stray from the trail, always afraid I'd get lost and end up needing a search party to look for me. The November chill of the night nips at my cheeks and nose, making them visibly turn pink. Or at least, I think they are pink, I could feel it. Luckily, the boots I'm wearing protect me from the new freezing mud and cold dirt.