The Academy

Chapter Twenty

It was impossible for me to sleep throughout the night.

Headmaster Rosterford killed Vivienne Aldridge. That explained why he was so angry at the sight of the note. He knew that someone else was aware. He knew that he could be found out.

When Marisol fell asleep a bit after three o'clock, there was a knock at the door. It startled me more than I can describe. It was like when you hear a ghost story, and it seems so real that you're constantly on edge, waiting for the same thing that happened in to ghost story to happen to you, too.

I pulled open the door slightly, just to catch a glimpse of whomever was in the hallway. It was Lindsay.

"Kayleigh," she said, her eyes filled with tears. She tried to blink them back, but a few escaped and pooled down her face. "I've known him for years."

At that point, I welcomed her into my room, and we sat on my bed, each of us curled up in the many blankets that I layered on my bed. Fortunately, Marisol was one of the heaviest sleepers on the earth, and could easily sleep through an earthquake or the fire alarm. A bit of talking wouldn't wake her up.

"Rosterford has been like family to me," Lindsay cried, trying to smooth down her hair that was messed up from obvious tossing and turning in her bed for a couple of hours. "He killed a girl. He had an affair on his wife, was worried that the girl would tell his wife, and killed her to keep it a secret. He's hid that from everybody for years, and they think she killed herself. That's not the Rosterford I know."

"He seemed like a great guy to me, too," I said to her. She rubbed her eyes with a zebra print blanket that was draped around her shoulders. "It's hard for me to believe he's capable of that."

"I don't feel safe here anymore. This school used to be my safe haven, the place where I'd long to go when we were on break and I just wanted to flee. I knew that I'd be okay when I was here, but now, I know that someone died in this very building. Someone was murdered in Ivy's room. The room right beside mine."

I didn't know how I was supposed to comfort her about that. What do you say? I'm sorry that the headmaster that you've known for six years is actually an unregistered sex offender and murderer and is so good at hiding it that he hasn't gotten caught and it's been fifty years. No, doesn't sound right.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" she asked, throwing one of my pillows to the floor. "I'll sleep down there. I just want to be in a room with a lot of people."

"Sure," I answered, tossing a blanket down there. "Goodnight, Lindsay."

WhenI rolled over, pulled my blankets up around me, and tried not to cry, Lindsay said, "Goodnight, Kayleigh. Thank you."