The Phantom of Scranton Hill

5

The next day at school, the entire town had already heard of the incident. It spread like wildfire under the headline Cop Gone Insane.

The night before, Justine had slept on an uncomfortable sofa in her father's office, only allowed home to change in the morning. Her neck ached and she tried to find a positive quality within her suddenly hectic life.

Friday, she though. It's finally Friday.

And she was more than relieved.

If big headlines and news articles didn't already give her enough attention, arriving in a cop car with screaming sirens would surely draw eyes. Shouldering her bag and slowly exiting the vehicle of her father's ex-partner, Justine refused to raise her focus any higher than the concrete of the school sidewalk.

As soon as her foot hit the floor, people were laughing at her, pointing and whispering, muttering things incoherently behind her back. The hallways weren't much better. Those that used to be proud to be called her friends avoided her at all costs as if she was poison, as if she was unstable herself.

She made her way to her locker, reassuring herself that this was just a dream with each step. She refused to believe this was real, though a part of her knew the truth. Boys taunted her as she fingered the knob on her locker, trying to remember the combination that just so happened to have slipped her mind at this fine moment.

"Oh, would you look at that!" One boy teased, his hands on his hips as his dirty blonde, shoulder length hair bounced with each word, his hazel eyes darting directly at her. "Is Justine's brain jumbling? Are you going mad? Must be hereditary."

Her stomach churned and her eyelids grew heavy from acting as a dam. Her fingers fiddled more and she could no longer see clearly. Tears threatened to cloud her vision, and why she continued to spin the dial, she didn't know. In less than twenty-four hours, all of her friends had disappeared, switching sides without hesitation, with ease, as if they were just along for the ride. She wondered if they would all be like that, one in particular. But would he be so feeble? So hollow and tasteless?

Speak of the devil.

Daxius approached her at her locker, his face emotionless. Before he could open his mouth to speak, her fears overthrew her and she slammed her locker, not caring that she only had her Literature book. She ignored him, refusing to speak with him, too scared that he would blend in with everyone else, say the same nasty things. That he would be a shallow pig like the other boys of her year.

There was only one problem. They had their first class together. And he followed her all the way.

Like any other day, Justine sat in her seat and stared blankly at the board, rereading the lines written, but not comprehending them. But it wasn't any other day. It was today. And Justine didn't know what to do. How could she?

Students piled in one after the other until the bell rang, and the level of noise seemed to grow with each passing second, but her tolerance level only dropped. The endless chatter among her peers added to the raging flames, and no amounts of water could put them out.

Justine opened her textbook in an attempt to drown out the irritating sounds, but the words on the page were nothing other than a jumble of letters. Were they even in English? She squinted, and her nose twitched in annoyance. She became increasingly frustrated, but tried her best to prevent it from showing, even if it meant holding her breath to refrain from screaming at the sky.

Justine's fingers unconsciously began to fiddle with the necklace she always wore. Every day of her life for as long as she could remember, she had that necklace. She couldn't remember a time when it didn't sit fastened around her neck. She glanced down at the small charm, its shape being that of a small key, golden yellow and untouched by rust. It was her comfort, her assurance that everything was okay. Everything in the world could change, but as long as she kept her habits, she would remain the same, she would remain who she was.