What Did You Do?

Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12:

"I'm sorry girls but you can't miss your mid-term exams."

"But Miss - she needs us."

"My decision is final. Now off to bed, you have a busy day of tests tomorrow and you need your sleep."

Jackie, Mia, and I have been pleading with Mrs Winter to let us go to Chloe's next trial tomorrow but due to mid-terms we are not allowed.

It's been a week since Chloe was taken away and she has already had two court trials. Mrs Winter allowed us to go into town for those ones and from what we saw, things aren't looking good.

"Guys, what if Chloe actually did kill him." Mia states as we reluctantly trod back to our dorm. "She was found with the murder weapon."

"She told us herself, she loved him." I declare.

"She could have faked-"

"NO!" I interrupt sternly.

"I'm just saying, you need closure, we all do. Maybe this is our closure."
I refuse to accept what Mia is saying. I know she wants what is best for all of us but why would she want Chloe caught. Unless she really believed she did it.

"Good morning girls." Mrs Winter says chirpily.
Yesterday was spent slouched over a desk either studying or scraping through an exam. I think I passed all of them but some not by very much. The girls and I spent most of the past week trying to find the real Mr Miller murderer rather than studying. I just hope this does not show in my mid-term report.

Mrs Winter smiles softly around my bedroom door. "How are you doing Abby?" She questions, "Remember we've got the big swim meet today after lunch."

How could I forget? Every year, after term one mid-terms, Oakwood holds a massive swim meet which anyone can compete in. The entire school is sent down to the pool to watch after lunch. It was always Chloe's favourite time of year.

However, today I am not in the mood for Mrs Winter's cheery spirits and respond blankly, "What happened with Chloe? Is she going to prison?"

"Oh, ah, it won't be a prison my dear. Probably-"

"Is she guilty?" I demand, losing patience.

"Uh, yes. Yesterday, the judge declared guilty. She is being relocated tomorrow."

I let out a sniffle and tears flow from my eyes. Mrs Winter sits down on my bed and draws me in for a warm embrace.

It's just after lunch and our school is heading down to the pool. A chilly winter breezewhips past my ears. Why does Oakwood do this in the middle of winter? I wonder. As I drop my bags outside the pool area, I spy Mia and Jackie up ahead.

"Hey."

"Oh, hey Abby." Jackie responds.

"C'mon." Mia signals into the changing rooms and we eagerly follow her inside. I wasn't going to compete today but I know it will get my mind off of everything going on. Maybe even find me some closure like Mia said.

Just as we are heading outside, I trip over a duffel bag and fall to the floor.

"I'm okay." I call out as Mia and Jackie help me to my feet.

"That's weird," Mia says, "Who puts their bag in the middle of the floor?"
"Oh well." I shove the bag aside with my foot.

"Wait, Abby, look." Jackie points down to my left hip.

"Great." My dark red togs are ripped along the side.

"Hey, I have a pair in my room. Race back and get them. You have heaps of time."

Mia explains to me where her spare swimsuit is and I race off.

"Where are they?" I mutter to myself. I'm crawling around Mia's room, hopelessly.

Suddenly, a panel gives out at the back of her wardrobe. As I clumsily fail to put it back into place, I notice something peculiar. Hurriedly, I pull the panel off and unhook her clothes off the hangers.

This is very weird, I think to myself.

I'm gawking at a small compartment made into a shrine of Mr Miller pictures with the eyes crossed out. One of them has a picture of a knife in his head. Another has words surrounding his face - revenge, dead, hate, liar, worthless.

All of a sudden, a small black rubbish bag catches my eye. I tear open the plastic and scream. Dry red blood stains Mia's favourite jeans and t-shirt. A shiny silver object shines through the red, it's a wrist watch I recognize. Racking my brain, I realise it belongs to Mr Miller. Promptly, I retie the bag and drop it on Mia's desk.

As I'm about to leave I see a small purple book slotted down the side of the compartment. The purple cover is soft and faded, the yellowed pages wrinkled and aged. I carefully flick through a few pages. Mia's cursive handwriting looked hurried and harsh in each entry. The first few pages are dated the day before and after Mr Miller's death. A full account of killing Mr Miller lays before my eyes like visual torture. Horrified, I skip to the most recent entry and read.

Within seconds I have dropped the book on the floor and burst out of the boarding house. I'm like a small sparrow flying through the school, purposefully landing in an eagle's nest. To calm myself, I try to collect my thoughts.

Mr Miller, my old swimming coach, is dead.

Chloe, my best friend, was charged with his murder but I know this is not true.

I am on my way to face the real murderer and hopefully stop what she has been planning.