The Class Reject: A Damsel in Disguise (Featured Story)

Chapter 34

The second floor of the mess hall had an endless quality. Though it circled the perimeter of the building, granting Miren a bird's eye view of the first floor, it was easy to get confused. She stopped before the wooden railing, opposite of the staircase. She couldn't see Chara over it, but she considered that to be a good thing. Chara was only there to administer a surprise attack, if need be. And there wasn't much surprise in standing out in the open.

Unlike Miren. The Ghost. It seemed like her job was the least straight forward, and she really hated that. She knew Wallace would lead Penelope upstairs. Then what? Was she supposed to moan like an evil spirit while leading Penelope to her certain doom? Miren shook her head.

Ridiculous.

The hallway she was in was blocked to prevent curious students from exploring the dark corridor. But only a cutout of the Charlie's Angels stood in front of the hallway. If a person really wanted to go further, an intense blow of the lips would have the cardboard figures in a heap on the ground.

Miren stood her ground, behind the life-less figures, hearing a flush ring some several feet below, toward the south staircase. She sighed, wondering what it would be like to just have a good time at a dance. To just worry about school. To just have friends. She shook her head. It wasn't fair to pretend that the others weren't her friends by now, even if their friendship was under absurd, revengeful conditions.

She knew that they had reasons to despise Penelope. Maybe those reasons didn't measure up to hers, but they were still there. And she should have just been thankful for their efforts. But the situation was a little bit more complicated than that.

Because what about after this? Miren bit her lip, contemplating this. She shouldn't be contemplating this. Not right now. But the thought overwhelmed her mind anyway.

Naturally, she would return to St. Rosemunde. Then what? Would life magically be better just because Penelope wasn't there? The thought seemed more ridiculous than wandering through the hallway like a demented ghost.

The plan was simple, yes. But that didn't mean life was.

Miren heard steps, firm, calculated ones that couldn't belong to any hapless partygoer. Her mouth curved into a smirk. She should have felt dread; she should have started sprinting away in fear. But she could feel a rush of adrenaline consume her body as she began walking toward the north staircase.

Now, she could see why it was essential for her to wear heels. Against the lightly carpeted floorboards, her steps echoed across the empty corridor. And each step was joined by other ones. Also heels.

Right. Left. Right. Left. They walked together in what felt like an infinite haze. Miren stopped, beginning to question if her desired pursuer was actually behind her.

"Miren?" That had to be Penelope. Miren picked up her pace, sprinting as fast as her feet would allow. The steps quickened up behind her. She held her breath, taking a sharp left. Damn, she runs fast! The turn caught the girl off guard, giving Miren a significant lead in their dark race. She groaned, however. Her sudden change in direction would mean that she would have to loop the hallway again to make it to the girls' restroom. Which would mean going through the cutouts and possibly exposing herself if she couldn't keep up the pace. And although she spent most of her life running, that didn't mean she was fast. Especially not in pumps.

She stopped thinking and kept sprinting, keeping a good twenty-foot lead. Being in the darkness for so long had worked to Miren's advantage. Her eyes had adjusted to make out a familiar porcelain vase on a wall table, and in her far horizon she could vaguely make out the cutouts in the next turn. She would be passing the south staircase in a couple of yards. With another turn and a blind dash to the finish line—the restroom—this would be over.

She ignored the rapid pounding in her chest, the taste of blood in the back of her throat. Her legs were almost jelly, and she clenched her teeth and hands simultaneously, determined to numb out the pain. She couldn't get caught. That was the thing about ghosts. You couldn't touch them. Penelope couldn't touch her.

Miren's stride widened as she felt Penelope recover from her stumbles in the darkness. She was gaining on her. Miren pushed even harder, feeling her heeled feet accelerate at an uncomfortable speed. The last thing she needed was to fall.

Finally, she passed the south staircase. Check point one. Miren could feel the tension slightly leave her body as she allowed herself to turn over her shoulder. She knew it would slow her down a little, but running blindly at full-speed would slow her down completely. And what she saw shocked her.

Penelope had just made it to the staircase. But before she could go any further, a dark figure materialized from the blackness. Penelope gasped before stumbling backward and falling down the stairs. But by the sound of the screams and the thuds against the wood panels, she didn't fall or land nicely.

"No!" Miren extended her hand toward her, as if to catch the already fallen girl. She ran so fast that she almost stumbled over the stairs herself. Chara caught her arm, looking as shocked as she did.

"I-I didn't mean to, I w-was trying to stop—" Miren shook her off, her eyes focusing on the unresponsive girl below them.

"We messed up, Chara," was the only thing Miren could say. Chara's eyes watered in response. Miren was really hoping that her eyes were playing tricks on her. After all, it was unusually dim here. But not dim enough. Miren sighed as she descended down the steps. 

"That's not Penelope." The fallen girl's hair and skin was too dark. "It's Artemis." Miren felt for a pulse on her wrist. It was faint, but there. To make matters worse, footsteps began to fill the first floor corridor. And they were headed toward their direction.

Shit, Miren thought. Strapping Chara's arm against hers, she dragged the distracted girl upstairs. As she did so, her eyes didn't leave Artemis' broken form. As much as she hated leaving her damaged and alone, there was not much help she could offer her right now. So they fled for the moment, retreating into the darkness.

"Artemis?" Miren knew that voice. Soren. "ARTEMIS?!" He tried to jolt her unconscious form awake. When she didn't, he scooped her into his arms and ran back to where he came from. Once he was out of sight and it was safe to breathe, Miren nudged Chara to move forward.

"Let's go," she whispered to her as they sprang out of the shadows.

"I'm so sorry," Chara said in a strained hush, looking down at her shoes. "When I saw Artemis I tried to get her off your trail, but she must have gotten surprised and—"

Miren held her hand up for her to stop. She shook her head. "There's no point crying over spilled milk." If they had anything to cry about, it was the stain they had just left. Artemis.

Scratching her head, Miren thought about the shitty situation as they walked. If she was chasing me, then where is Penelope? Is she in this very hallway right now? A chill would have run down Miren's spine if she weren't so steamed.

The plan was supposed to be so simple. Now, in an almost simpler turn of events, they were without options. They passed the cutouts, feeling more hopeless as time lagged on.

"Why don't you text your boyfriend so we can know Penelope's whereabouts?" Miren said, her voice tired and beyond irritated. Too abashed to challenge her friend's hostility, Chara nodded and began dialing.

They approached the north staircase, which was as dark and lifeless as they had left it. Descending the steps to the first floor, Jeno emerged from the back wall of the hallway. He blinked at them, as if to make sense of their presence. But he couldn't.

"Change in plans," Miren said, crossing her arms. She should have been angry, but anger had simmered into irritation. And irritation had liquefied into apathy.

"What's wrong?" The usual stoic expression in his ember eyes had vanished. Just like any hope they had of revenge on Penelope. Honestly, it was a foolish question. But people usually asked foolish questions when they didn't want to know the answer.

"We don't have one anymore."