Outcast & Other Scary Shorts | ✓

Chapter 2

The traffic jam had made them late, so Grace rushed down the garishly decorated, linoleum-floored hallway. Filled with every, typical symbol of Halloween in the usual orange, black, green and purple palette – from Jack-o-lanterns and bats, to Frankenstein monsters and skeletons – it resembled an elementary rather than a high-school. Arriving to first period math, the girl slipped into her desk at the back of the class just as the morning bell rang.

She hadn't given the ride's overheard conversation another thought until the teacher began talking about quadratic equations. Figuring even criminal history was better than advanced mathematics, she pulled out her phone and opened a browser app.

Grace had to try a few search combinations of key words to get any hits of real significance, but when news articles from ten years earlier began flooding her screen, she straightened in her seat.

She'd heard tangentially about the tragedy, which took the lives of three Gallatin teens on the morning of July 10, 2005. Everybody had. It was a topic that even now came up in regular conversations. Hell, it was one of the reasons Tommy was going to an early evening Boy Scout meeting tonight and not trick-or-treating, like every other kid in America. And not just after a busload of high-schoolers drove by a similar type of accident, reigniting the topic.

No, the crash where the trio died on impact in a fiery inferno left its mark on the way the survivors – the three-thousand or so residents of the sleepy Montana town – went on with their lives.

Following the initial reports about the accident – involving one car on a rainy evening with three bodies believed to be star quarterback John Pine, his best friend Lucas Jarvis, along with John's girlfriend and Lucas' sister head-cheerleader Madeline Jarvis – came the repercussions. The town lost three of its best and brightest, leading the Mayor and Council members to enact laws ensuring such incidents didn't happen again.

No matter how stupid it all sounded to her, everything Grace overheard on the bus about curfews and restrictions was true. She sighed. She knew it was bad, but she didn't know it was this bad. And not like she needed another reason to want to get back to Seattle, her real home, as soon as possible.

Putting her phone away, the girl could no more concentrate on y-intercepts or roots of functions now than at the beginning of class. Instead, she leaned her chin on her hand and stared out the window, mentally writing her essay to UW about the greatest obstacle she'd overcome.

The topic wasn't hard; she was living it.

Grace managed to make it through two more classes without paying attention or getting caught for it. By the time she walked into the cafeteria, she was in such a good mood she began humming the Ghostbusters theme song after seeing a paper cutout of a specter taped to the wall.

Not standing in line, but weaving between students waiting for their a'la carte selections, the girl grabbed her usual lunch of chips, banana, chocolate bar and bottled water. Placing $3.50 by the cash register, she walked away without breaking her stride.

One rectangular table, located in a quiet spot between the buffet line and exit door, was always halfway empty. Having no interest in watching the social interactions of future rodeo champions and PTA busybodies, Grace threw her backpack under the table and took her usual seat facing the wall.

Remembering she wanted to jot down her notes for the admissions essay before she forgot the key points, the girl leaned down to grab a notebook from her bag. When she sat up again, she jumped in her seat and gave out a faint sound of surprise.

The blonde haired girl from earlier in the day was sitting in the chair across the table from her. The dark-haired boy, no doubt her boyfriend, was standing beside her, ready to pull the chair out. They had both appeared without a sound, as if out of thin air.