The Academy

Chapter Thirteen

Marisol and I woke up at three o'clock in the morning to pounding on our dorm room door.

         We exchanged a glance and Marisol got up and shifted toward the door, still half asleep. She opened it slowly and Carlisle stood there, in a pair of pink sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

         "Guys, come with me, now," she said, motioning for us to follow her. Marisol and I were still in our pajamas, but followed her anyways. The dorms were completely dark, but, fortunately, Carlisle had brought a flashlight.

         "Where are we going?" Marisol asked, a little bit too loudly.

         Carlisle shown the flashlight on her own face and pressed her index finger to her lips. She pointed down the stairs, leading us to where she wanted us to go.

         In the foyer of Beaumont Academy, by the bulletin board, were Aspen and Lindsay, both sitting on the floor in their pajamas. Lindsay was drinking out of a water bottle and Aspen was fumbling with a tiny flashlight.

         "What's going on?" I whispered to Carlisle. She grabbed mine and Marisol's arms and led us to the bulletin board.

         With the light from Carlisle's flashlight, I could see there was a note on the bulletin board. It was on lined paper, just like the first note we had ever seen.

         Someone knows, the note said. The secret is out. It's not my secret to share.

         Signed, Vivienne Aldridge.

         "Another one," Marisol mumbled to herself.

         Carlisle plucked the thumbtacks that held the note onto the cork off and pushed them into the unoccupied areas of cork. She folded up the note and placed it into the pocket of her sweatpants. "No one but us will ever know about or see this note," she said, patting her pocket.

         "Why does it matter?" Lindsay sighed, setting her water bottle down on the tile floor. "It's probably just some student trying to prank the rest of the school with some type of legend or folklore, trying to get the myth started here that a ghost is looking for her revenge."

"It's really her ghost," Marisol muttered.

         "Ghosts aren't real," Lindsay scolded. Marisol rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and huffed loudly.

         "How'd you even know this was here?" I asked Carlisle.

         "Lindsay wasn't feeling good, so she came downstairs for a water bottle. She took a little walk around the school, saw the note, and ran back upstairs to get me."

         "Let's go back to our dorm rooms," Aspen suggested, spreading out on the cool tile floor. "I want to go back to bed."

         "Whatever," Carlisle said. "Go ahead. I'm going to keep looking around for clues. Who wants to join me?"

         No one said a word. I know that I definitely wanted to go back to bed. It was three in the morning, for goodness sakes. Everyone was exhausted.

         "Go!" Carlisle repeated, louder this time.

         And that's what we did. The four of us, excluding Carlisle, went back to sleep in our own beds.