Life Within The Halls

Chapter 3: "Where is Daniel Blay?"

LIFE WITHIN THE HALLS

Victoria

Tuesday, February 10th, 8:15 a.m.

As I sat in my parents' helicopter, which had just landed on the sports field, I peered out of the window overlooking the compound of my school. I couldn't shake the weight of expectation resting upon my shoulders. Being the granddaughter of the school's founder, a class president, and the daughter of a politician came with its own set of pressures, but there was another burden I carried—one that wasn't written in the history books.

Among the students, I saw few faces that resembled mine. I was that brown-skinned girl, the one with a white mother and a black father. The one who inadvertently became a symbol of hope for many students.

It amused me how people perceived my life as flawless, as if I always had everything figured out. Yet, I was such a terrible liar. Even though I tried my best to spin a convincing lie for the new girl in my class the day before, I couldn't quite make it seem believable. The dizziness excuse wasn't entirely a lie—I often stayed up late. But if I had told her the real reason behind my collapse, she would have judged me.

That was my little secret.

With all my titles, my life was supposed to be one of the best, but it wasn't as I wanted it to be.

Since last night, I hadn't even glanced at my phone or turned on the television. I was too busy getting everything in order for the school's 30th-anniversary bash, which was just two weeks away. So, I had no clue about what was happening in the outside world.

Entering the school building after the pilot had flew the helicopter away, I noticed some students reading the school's newspapers. I became curious about the headlines. What was making the news?

The School Magazine Society had started again with their unnecessary big headlines. I had hoped they would have left it in our last semester, but they didn't seem to disappoint me.

I quickly rushed to the newspaper stand to catch a glimpse of the headlines, and it hit me hard.

"Junior year student, Daniel Blay, has been lost in the woods!"

Lost in the woods? Couldn't the SMS come up with a better headline than that? They could have just used "Missing." Such incompetence!

I took out my phone to check on the news about my classmate's disappearance. I never liked reading the school's newspapers, so I opened the Twitter app instead. The first thing I saw trending was #WhereIsDanielBlay.

Where could he be? Was he kidnapped? How could he go missing with all the school's security measures in place?

As I pondered, I heard a group of girls laughing in the corner. I turned to their direction, and they all turned their phone screens towards me.

There I was, lying on the floor with my eyes closed, on their phones.

"When did that happen?" I murmured to myself.

Then it all flooded back—I had collapsed in class the previous day. But who had recorded me? As a role model to the freshman year students and even those in higher grades, why would someone want to tarnish my image?

I had a suspicion about who it could be. He was the only one capable of such a thing. What I did to him in our sophomore year hurt him deeply, and he had promised to retaliate. He was the school's most followed Instagram user. It could only be him. Jayden Scott.

I headed straight to the school's backyard, where they were sharing memories at the head cheerleader's tribute. There, I saw him with the school's sweatshirt on top of his uniform, like always, streaming live on his Instagram page.

Grabbing him by the arm, I ended the live stream and pulled him aside.

"Why did you do this to me, Jayden?" I asked, upset.

"Do what? I didn't do anything," he replied.

"I know you don't like me, but please take it off your account, please," I pleaded, clasping my hands together.

"Take what? You're talking like I posted a video or picture of you."

"Of course you did!"

"I didn't, check," he said, handing me his phone.

I swiftly scrolled through his Instagram posts, but there wasn't a single one about me.

"If it wasn't you, then who..." I started to say.

"Is it about the video of you collapsing in class?" Jayden asked.

"Yes, who posted it?" I urgently inquired.

"It was some account with the name... AnonymousX or something," he told me before walking away.

Seriously? I was starting to regret my life at a school established by my very own grandfather.

Pushing my unease aside, I joined the rest of the school in mourning the head cheerleader in the backyard. After all, they wouldn't laugh at my video forever. Someone else would undoubtedly become the next topic of discussion.

The head cheerleader's death had most girls wearing black petty coat dresses from an array of designer brands atop their uniforms. Though I wanted to wear one, I didn't get the chance because I was always in the school's blazer, complete with my class president tag.

"May her soul rest in peace!" Principal Wilson expressed his condolences.

The head cheerleader didn't deserve such a tribute. Her ghost must be pained to see how her mates shed fake tears. No one cared much for each other at Hill Academy, unless you were super popular outside of school life.

As the mourning went on, a voice called out from afar, "Come look at this!"

Like the wind, everyone, including the principal, rushed in the direction of the voice, except for me. I stood alone in the backyard. I didn't want to be part of whatever drama was unfolding. I was fed up with the school's constant drama. It was only day two of a new semester, what could the drama possibly be?

I received a notification on my phone for an Instagram live stream from none other than Jayden Scott. It wasn't like I wanted to watch his posts first or something. I had his post notifications on because I didn't want to be seen as the odd one out. Everyone had theirs on. I was basically just doing what everyone else was doing.

I unlocked my phone to Jayden's live stream from the school compound, where missing Daniel Blay was lying unconscious on the ground. Without hesitation, I bolted towards the scene, making my way through the crowd of onlookers.

Gideon Vanderbilt was among those helping to carry Daniel to the sickbay under the principal's direction. He was Daniel's best friend, so it wasn't like he had a good heart of helping random people.

How Daniel had ended up on the ground was the big question on the lips of many. But with him alive and unharmed, it didn't really matter.

Principal Wilson then ordered the rest of us to get to our classrooms. Turning around, I faced Sandra, the new girl, who seemed to be living a fake life from my perspective. Her eyes told me she wasn't as innocent as she looked. She had a motive. Why would a new student on her first day in a school ask so many questions? Like she was some kind of questioning aficionado?

"Class prez," she waved her hand at me, approaching.

I had told her not to call me 'Class prez,' but she kept insisting on it.

"Hi, Sandra," I forced a smile. "I have some work to do. Bye." With that, I turned away and headed back into the school building, making my way to class.

I needed to distance myself from her because she seemed to enjoy asking questions. If her inquiries were about books or the school, I would be more than happy to answer, but questions about my personal life were off-limits.