Allison Hawthorne is dead - murdered in cold blood. Six lives remain at stake. The best part? I'm only getting started.
The Beacon Heights High School has been a gateway to the world of the elite for over two decades, but when newcomer April Park s...
"So, Grace lashed out at you?" detective Richardson asked.
I nodded silently, feeling a rift of instability course through me. "She wasn't wrong, though."
The detective sighed. "She was going through trauma."
"Mhmm," I affirmed, "but when you're at your worst, the only thing you can focus on is the bitter reality."
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ＪＡＮＵＡＲＹ ２２， ２０２０
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"Good morning, everyone," the art professor said, motioning me to take a seat. Without hesitance, I went over to the table beside Grace's. It was because of her I joined this club in the first place, more like to monitor her. She insisted on being fine, but her facade couldn't fool me. "Carry on with the exhibition banners. I need them done by Friday."
Gathering a bunch of stationeries from the supply cabinets, I got down to work. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Grace staring me down. My heart skipped a beat.
"Are you alright?" I asked, and she raised her eyebrows, breaking away from the daze. Looking around, she nodded, whispering a faint yeah to me. How much would she lie?
Exhaling heavily, I brought my pencil against the white paper, trying my best at calligraphy, all the while keeping an eye out for Grace. The others already had their fingers dipped in cans of paint, some using their craft scissors, while the remaining were busy outlining flowers into pieces of cardboard. The room was exceptionally quiet, with the scissor blades snapping and the edges of tapes being rolled out as the only interruptions.
Once I was done making a banner, I analyzed it carefully. BHS Photography Exhibition, it read in crimson ink against the pale peach background, exhibiting the school's colors. My eyes drifted over to the other members, who were already working on their successive articles. The execution was excellent, which made me wonder if they had been taking art lessons from the moment they were born. My art looked inferior to them, but as the French saying, À vaillant coeur rien d'impossible, goes, for a valiant heart nothing is impossible. And I was to adhere to the statement.
