Natalie Peterson was a beautiful, intelligent and athletic teenager, but she hated high school for all of the right reasons. When she's bored, she smokes pot in the ghost area with her best friend Tamara Woods who's bullied by Gina, the hot popular...
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I turned the ignition of Diana's car, ready to leave, but turned it back off when I noticed a car a few feet away parked in front of us. Someone who looked like Brad was sitting down on the passenger's seat and next to him, was someone with dark, black hair and pale skin. He had an earring, a loop on one of his ears and I knew then that it was that guy he had fought with in the sports store. I didn't know who he was, but Brad had called him Patrick.
"Umm, Natalie, can we go?" Tamara asked me. I shushed her and pointed towards the car in front of us.
"Look," I said, showing it to her. Tamara glanced at the car. It was an old, broken down Buick with scratched paint and apparently no air conditioner because I could see that their Windows were open.
"Is that Brad?" Tamara asked. I nodded.
"I'm not sure, but I think so," I replied. Brad kept talking to him in the car.
"Who is that guy? Does he go to school with us?" Tamara asked me. I shook my head.
"I don't think so. I've never seen him before. He called him Patrick," I replied. Brad got out of the car. He seemed to be so worried that he didn't even notice our van.
"The guy's turning the ignition on. I'm going to follow him," I said.
"What?" Tamara asked panicked. I turned on my ignition and followed the crappy Buick.
"Natalie, I don't want to go to jail for this," Tamara said hysterically.
"What are you talking about? You're not going to jail for anything. I just want to see where he lives. I want to know who he is," I replied.
"Can't you just ask Brad about it?" The red light was on the traffic light. I was still neatly behind Patrick and there were two cars in front of him.
"Write his license plate number," I told Tamara.
"Why?"
"Just do it," I said. Tamara was frowning and she seemed pissed, but she opened her backpack and grabbed one of her notebooks and wrote the number. Then, she ripped the page and gave it to me.
"Here," she said.
"Just hold it until I'm done," I replied. The red light turned green and we were moving again. I turned left and right as I followed him.
"What if he doesn't go to his house?" Tamara asked me.
"He has to go sometime," I replied. We finally reached what looked like an old, abandoned house. Patrick parked his car as we stopped a few feet behind of him. I didn't want him to notice that I was following him. Patrick got out of the car and went into the eerily house.
"That's his house?" I asked out loud.
"For all we know, that's not even his house. Could be a friend's place," she said. She was right, it could be a friend's house, but my gut told me that it wasn't. A few minutes later I got out of the van.
