The Phantom of Scranton Hill

1

Junior Year. That was when it all began. At the end of junior year. Friends were tight. Seniors were scrambling to gain enough credits to graduate and struggling to find a college that would accept them at the last possible minute. Everything was so normal.

It was mid March, and the baseball season was just beginning for the varsity team. Competition was rising through the halls, spilling in and out of classrooms as the school's golden boys warmed up on the field. They had less than five minutes before their first playoff game and their opponent had just arrived on a bus. However, something completely different was happening on the opposite side of Scranton High.

She tapped her foot fervently against the recently waxed tiling of the C building. Her eyes darted toward the clock anxiously as she impatiently waited for the dismissal bell to ring. Four minutes. She'd never missed one of his games. Ever. He was her best friend and she was his. She'd known him for as long as she could remember. There was even a law stating that they must always support the other, and never had it been broken. Until now.

Mr. Markowitz, their chemistry teacher, was midway through a rant regarding a paper on a specified element due in four weeks time. He was a middle aged Russian man with short, curly, dark gray hair. A faint and recently shaven black mustache rested upon his lip and his thick sideburns were cut back. Two squirrels sat at bay above his eyes. He was fairly skinny with a stick-like figure. Jeans hung loosely on his waist and he could never start a day without a plaid overshirt, a white tank dependably underneath. His white chest hair was visible as the topmost two buttons were always undone.

Come on, she thought. Four weeks? Isn't that a little far away? Couldn't you do it on a less important day? Postponing for a weekend wouldn't kill anyone!

A deep canyon rested between her eyes. A line of stress. Her fingers tapped eagerly against the log-based desk, her arm resting on the metal bar connecting the uncomfortable wooden chair with the table. She shoved her feet onto the metal rack underneath the seat, trying her best to refrain from tapping. She'd gotten some dirty looks from classmates.

She was so deep in thought that she had unintentionally tuned out everything around her. So much that anything could easily startle her.

She continued to watch the hand tick on the modern clock pinned to the wall between the crowded whiteboards, random scribbles in red and blue and black washable marker covering every inch. Two minutes. Just two minutes.

"Justine," someone whispered from beside her. They grabbed her shoulder. She jumped and screamed in a panic earning the attention of everyone around her. Dozens of polychromatic eyes glared daggers at her green ones and she felt as if she was under a spotlight. She wished her long, golden brown hair was long enough to hide behind, like a curtain over a window.

"Yes, Miss Powers?" Mr. Markowitz asked, hands on hips, his furry brows coming together as one.

Such a reunion, she joked to herself as she accidentally spit out a laugh.

"Miss Powers," he called again.

She regained her posture and politely asked her teacher to repeat himself. He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, presumably to resume his lecture, but before he could, the bell victoriously rang. Students jet up and cleared the classroom faster than cheetahs chasing an antelope. After all, it was Friday. Justine let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and shouldered her strangely light bag, all the while muttering a goodbye to her hour long imprisoner.

"Saved by the bell," he chuckled as he shut the door after his final class of the day had ended.

Outside the classroom, Alexandria Mendel had waited for her. Her long black hair was straight today, easily reaching halfway down her back. She held her books close to her chest and her colored skinny jeans were looser than usual. Black heeled leather boots gave her an extra two inches, but she was still the shortest of them all.