The Hunt of Altswood High (The Altswood Saga #1)

Chapter 3 - Suspicion

Chapter 3 - Suspicion

The next day at school, the rumor mill had caught wind of Maddison. The hallway was quieter and emptier when I walked down it. My dark red wig was bobbing up and down my ears, tickling them as they strained to hear what the students were saying.

"It's like Beatrice all over again," someone said, hushed.

"Yeah, except Beatrice's death was a total unlucky accident," the friend replied. "Maddison was actually killed, a bullet right through her forehead."

I went in to use the bathroom before the first bell, and more people were talking about it.

"Do you think they're going to cancel the Hunt?" a girl asked, voice raised over the sound of a running tap.

My hand paused as I was about to open my stall door. I slowly pulled it back, staying inside to listen.

"I doubt it," another girl beside her with a higher voice replied. "The Hunt is too much of a tradition to stop because some psycho decided to use it as an excuse for murder. God, I hope they put him behind bars."

I nodded my agreement to myself.

"You know, people are saying they're going to put Daphne in questioning."

"What? Really?" the girl with the lower voice exclaimed. "But wasn't she seen going home with Manny after the party?"

There was a moment of silence, so I guessed someone shrugged. "That doesn't mean she has an alibi."

The hand dryer went off, then the door slammed.

Slowly I eased open my stall door, checking to see if the bathroom was really empty. When everything proved clear, I slipped out.

I turned on the tap and stuck my hand under the running water, uneasy. Since this morning, Dad had been receiving non-stop calls from distressed parents wanting to know if the island was still safe. The inside of my lip felt hot from how much I was gnawing at it. I couldn't get rid of all the images trying to flit through my head, of the many times I saw Maddison and the people who could have killed her. Most of all, I kept hearing Gabriel's words replay in my ears—words so uncannily true with their timing.

I knew I wasn't going to get involved in this, but would it be so bad to simply question why he said that? He could have a perfectly innocent answer and I wouldn't be tearing my hair out over this. And if he did turn out to be guilty of anything, it wasn't like he was going to murder me in public, right?

BANG!

I whirled around, my heart in my throat. That was a gunshot. Where did that gunshot come from? Was it the killer? Had the killer began shooting at random? My breath was coming in short pants, but in a split second, I realized the sound had come from the bathroom door being slammed open. Four girls filed in.

I angled my face away and closed the tap with shaking hands. Swallowing hard, I ran out.

It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.

I tried to bite back my frustration as I walked into the courtyard. That was absurd. I thought I was over this. Being so paranoid that I heard gunshots in slamming doors was something that occurred daily years ago. I hated it. I hated anything that resembled the horrible crack of such a small, angry piece of machinery thrusting out a bullet.

I sat down on the bench, yanking my bag off. My breaths came out ragged. I tore my bag wide open and rummaged through for my meds. Images were beginning to tinge at the edge of my vision, sounds that weren't really there screaming at my ears. I dry-swallowed the correct pills and sat with my head in my hands.