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

Chapter 5 - Hidden

Chapter 5 - Hidden

When I inserted my chip into the reader this morning, it said my target was a girl named Candace Koeka. I had no idea who she was, but I was sure my excellent sleuthing skills would kick in soon.

Monday morning, at 8 AM, brought the start of the Hunt. And I really should have worn something less bright. The wristband I yanked on after Dad drove away sat heavy on my skin, while my pink top felt like a neon sign. Most students wore black tops and jeans. Many had on dark beanies or a hat.

I grimaced to myself as I walked, sandals clicking. Perhaps today was not the best day for a platinum blonde wig.

"Oh, don't you run away!" a loud voice shouted behind me.

I turned around, and was nearly knocked over as a tiny figure dashed through the courtyard. Popping noises followed closely as the chaser tried to shoot, but he was only successful in hitting bystanders. Including me.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.

The shock of a hit on skin sent my heart beating fast. It's not a bullet, I assured myself, hissing through my teeth. A huge yellow splotch marked the side of my arm, pinking the nearby skin.

"Sorry!" the boy called, sprinting by with a whoosh of wind.

"No problem," I muttered, scraping the paint off with my hand and flinging it into the grass. "Not a problem at all."

I had my paintball gun tucked securely in the back pocket of my shorts and the screen in my bag, with the chip stuck into the port. I wondered how much money the school spent on these things each year. We handed them in after it was all over, but some would end up damaged, right? I guess Altswood High didn't really care. The average parent donated around a thousand dollars each year anyway. And that was just the donations.

"Luca!"

I jolted, whirling around, my foot poised to run. Who was calling my name?

"Luca!"

The voice came again. This time I spotted who it was. Daphne.

The red-haired girl ran to catch up to me, her face sullen. She tried for a smile as she approached.

"Almost thought you might run away," she said.

I forced out some laughter, though it sounded fake even to my own ears.

"You just startled me, that's all," I assured. "What's up?"

She lowered her head conspiratorially, and her eyes darted to the left. "You're the new police chief's daughter, right?"

"Well—" This couldn't be too good. "Yes?"

"Can we sit?" she asked, tilting her head to the benches.

"Yes?" I repeated.

We took a seat on a dull blue bench. I tucked my hands under my thighs, waiting as Daphne tried to collect her thoughts.

"I think someone is trying to frame me for Maddison's murder," she blurted out.

I stared at her for a few moments, before choking out: "You sure don't beat around the bush." I shook my head in disbelief. "Why do you think that?"

Daphne sighed, running her hands through her hair.

"I always wear silver hair-ties," she said, waving around a curl. "I own a whole can of glittery silver bands. It's my signature thing, like a scent of perfume, you know?"

She played with the edges of her hair, as if remembering that there was nothing in them today. "I overheard the police tell my mom that they found one of my hair ties nearby in the crime scene. They can't directly connect it to Maddison, so it's not official evidence."