𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝟙/𝟚

 ❛𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞?❜

☎

First period bled into third period which bled into sixth. You never actually made it to lunch, instead spending the whole thirty minutes with your knees curled up to your chest in the desolate third-floor bathroom, reading the scribbles of whatever rumors the girls had decided to spread this semester. It seemed like a good idea, getting your mind off of things, right up until you spotted the bold letters in the center of the door, still shimmering with fresh permenant ink. 

RIP CASEY - we miss you gurl!

You didn't cry, but that just made you feel worse. You spent the whole weekend crying. Maybe you were all out of tears?

No one really bothered to ask why you disappeared when you finally appeared at the front steps of the school, now empty of reporters and their big bulky cameras. They didn't have to as you anything—the questions were in their eyes and the answers were in yours. 

You sat cross-legged on the cement with your head resting against the rim of the ornate fountain in the front courtyard. All of you were huddled loosely together, making a game out of interrupting each other's meaningless conversations. You usually craved meaninglessness. How could you not? It seemed like every week there was a new rumor to keep all of you fed. But it all seemed so dull to you now. 

Any longer in that school building and you swore you would have dropped down on your knees and screamed bloody-murder in the middle of the hallway.

Sidney and Tatum lounged on either side of you, their boyfriends draped languidly over their laps like leopards. You were all exhausted in some capacity. You heard gym class was rough today but lucky for you, Principal Himbrey gave you a laminated pass that kept you out of gym for the rest of the semester. 

"Hunt?" Tatum gawked, twisting a grape off of the vine in Stu's lap and popping it into her mouth. "Why would they ask you if you like to hunt?" 

Stu lifted his head up off of her lap, shaking the green bunch of grapes in front of your face to try and entice you into reaching out for one. "I don't know," he shrugged, snickering at the way your jaw immediately fell open. You bit a grape off of the vine and laid back down, satisfied. "They just did."

 Apparently, the police did think it was a student who committed the murders. One by one, then ten by ten, kids were getting hauled out of your fifth period to go talk to the Sheriff in Principal Himbrey's office. You were exempt, obviously. All your questioning had taken place over the weekend.

"It's cause their bodies were gutted."

 You flinched and craned your neck to see Randy shouldering his way toward the fountain with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets. He had a satisfied smirk playing across his face as he blinked back at the afternoon sun. He was wearing the Friday The 13th shirt that you thrifted as his birthday present last year. On any other day you would have shared a nod of solidarity—horror nerds have to stick together and all that crap—but the graphic print of a raised knife still oozing with blood sent shivers down your spine.

Billy tutted, abandoning his perch on the rim of the fountain to hop down and wedge himself beside you. Wrapping his arm around you once more, he glared up at the gangly boy. "Thanks a lot, Meeks," he scoffed, squeezing your shoulder protectively. You leaned into his chest, not really thinking anything of it. Now that Casey was...gone...Stu had been promoted from second best friend, which meant that consequently, Billy had too. 

Besides, Tatum Riley could smell a slut from a mile away. If she was worried about your relationship with her boyfriend, you would have known about it by now.