The Classix

(OLD) Chapter 29

Note: I am here and I'm sorry about last week. This whole skipping-a-week thing is NOT going to become a regular occurrence for updates. Life has been so hectic lately—I've just been so accustomed to living in California and New York over the years, and the adjustment to suddenly being in Tennessee, of all places, has been interesting, to say the least. Many new places and faces and things to figure out!

Anyway, I'm here today, and I'm so happy that you're here as well. Thank you to those of you who look forward to a new chapter on Fridays, and to those of you who correspond together in the comments with predictions and light anecdotes. I love reading them so much.

PREVIOUSLY ON THE CLASSIX: Emeray and Chapter sorta talked about Rebecca but ultimately didn't talk about Rebecca at all. What an elusive girl, Rebecca is. After all that, Emeray visited Gerald on his first modeling shoot and kinda sorta did the punk photoshoot with him, given they were both wearing black. So obviously, Foster rolled out of his grave and appeared backstage. At least, Emeray thinks she saw him. How can we know for sure?

This gif is an accurate representation of our five living Classix members featuring ghost Foster. Please cast Scooby, Shaggy, Freddy, Daphne, and Velma accordingly right now in the comments. I'm having a moment.

emeray

I know what I saw, but I don't know if I'm sure of it.

I play it back in my head on the ride back with Gerald. I only really had a sliver of his face to go off of, but the feelings that came with it were more than enough. The curl of his hair, the visible swagger in his posture, the sharp end of his jaw––they didn't make me feel the same way I do when looking back at pictures of Foster. He wasn't a frozen moment, a hallucination. The floors creaked beneath his feet. The knob turned with his hand. The door clicked shut behind him as he went. He was there . . . if not Foster, somebody.

But the lights were off inside the break room, and the whole place was empty. There were no adjoining doors for him to have gone out of. The lockers were too slim for him to squeeze into. Any hiding place was in plain sight.

But I know what I saw.

But do I?

I could've checked the room longer. The staff member who let me in didn't seem to object any when I peered at the lockers, but sifting through anybody's belongings felt inherently wrong after all the sifting I've done with Bree's belongings in the past. From the glances I took in haste, however, nothing stuck out to me as Foster's. No mementos that caught my eye.

That figure of Foster turning the doorknob is all I can think of the whole drive. His face, his actions, the details of everything. By the time the car pulls up to the Hideaway, I can't quite decipher what I really saw and what I've added in daydreams.

Walking through the massive front doors, I find Carstan and Norax stagnant in the hall. Considering the way they perk up and stop talking when I come in, it feels to me as if they were waiting for my return. I pause apprehensively, awaiting a confrontation.