The intercom buzzes, interrupting the start of English class. The voice that speaks is solemn. At first, everyone talks over it like a normal announcement, but slowly, more and more teens tune in as they catch on to the tone.
"Good morning Sunset High School, this is Principal Steward speaking. There have been rumors circulating the school about a couple of your fellow students and I wanted to clear the air. I'm sure many of you have already heard the tragic news, but in the past two days, two of our students have passed. Ashden Coop and Samantha Callid... There are no words to express how much this saddens me and the rest of the school. They were both beloved individuals who had bright futures ahead of them and it devastates us to know their lives were cut short. Their contributions to Sunset will never be forgotten and neither will the memories they've created with teachers and students alike. I'd like to take a couple moments of silence in memory of them both."
The school falls still.
The pain in the principal's voice is palpable. It's strained so thin he can barely choke out the kids' names. But his speech isn't what gives me the goosebumps. A nerve in me is struck. I recall the texts I got yesterday and the new one I got just this morning. When I woke up, my phone's screen was already lit up with a message. This morning, the text was about someone named Samantha--and I think her last name was even Callid. And last night, Ashden. Ashden Coop.
Ashden Coop lost.
Samantha Callid lost.
The moment of silence ends and the intercom sounds again, startling everyone, especially me, from their thoughts.
"For those of you who are struggling with this news, we have a safe room in B111 where you can write a card of condolences to the families. It is also a safe space for you to go as you process. The school counselors will be there for anyone who needs any extra help coping, and it will be open to everyone today and tomorrow. Again, B111. Don't be afraid to head down there at anytime today. I too will be mourning our losses, and my thoughts and prayers go out to their families and friends."
The announcement ends with a rude whine of the loudspeakers turning off and my class falls silent again. No one dares to move a muscle like we too are dead bodies. So much as a whisper would sound like a ruckus. Apparently, this is more of a shock to most people than the principal anticipated.
I look at Skip and can tell he's deep in thought. A couple of kids work up the courage to scoot out of their seats--the screeching of their chairs impossibly loud--then hurry out of the room for the safe room. Most everyone else didn't know the kids well enough to feel they have the right to leave, so, like me, they sit.
With the silence broken, a few kids brave some whispers to see if their friends know more information. The only information I'm able to collect from eavesdropping is that the kids were found dead in their beds... Which means they were dead when I got the texts.
I deleted the texts as soon as I saw the new one this morning, more annoyed than anything else. The anonymous number didn't acknowledge the dumb response I sent yesterday, so there was no point in me keeping them. Never did it cross my mind the texts could be significant.
My mind runs laps. There doesn't seem to be any logical explanation. How could the person sending the texts possibly know about the deaths so soon? And why send them to me? If the deaths were being publicized before I woke up to the texts, the news would've spread to my social media feed quicker than a gasoline fire. But today is the first day I'm hearing of any of this.
The sender must be related to the deaths. My mind picks up into a sprint.
Which would mean the deaths are not some freak accident.
YOU ARE READING
Sleep Tight
Mystery / ThrillerA boy draws parallels between the dreams he has each night and the deaths at his high school. Each night, he finds himself in a bizarre competition against his peers. When he awakes, he learns a new kid from school has died. His only hope of survi...
