Chapter Eight

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  Friday October 18th  


Quinn took the steps leading up to Woodsview High, two at a time. She was on a mission, and she had her target in sight as soon as she entered the main hallway. She wrapped her black peacoat tighter to fend off the chill in the air and beelined straight for Avery's locker, calling out to her supposed best friend, whose back was to her.

"You know, if I did something to piss you off, the least you could do is tell me," she said to Avery's back. "You blew out of here yesterday without even saying goodbye, and then I get nothing from you all night. No returned calls, no returned texts."

"Sorry," Avery mumbled, turning around. She looked like she just walked off the set of the Shambling Dead. The deep circles under her eyes weren't half as disturbing as the vacant look she wore on her face.

"Jesus," Quinn gasped, immediately forgetting how mad she'd been. The last time she'd seen Avery look that sleep deprived was finals week the year before. "Are you okay?"

"No," Avery admitted. "Last night—"

The shrill sound of the homeroom bell sounded. It was immediately followed by the booming voice of Principal Davis, echoing through the halls over the PA system.

"Good morning students and faculty of Woodsview High," the principal began. "I have a couple of announcements before we get started for the day. First, services for Garron Strode will be held tomorrow morning at ten a.m. at Our Lady of Hope. The funeral will follow at Woodsview Acres Cemetery. As for Beatrice Thompson, the family will not be holding services, and are directing those who wish to do something in Beatrice's memory to donate to the local animal shelter, where Beatrice volunteered regularly."

"I heard her parents had her cremated—weird, right?" Quinn gushed, but Avery wasn't paying attention.

"Next," the principal continued, "in light of Saturday's funeral services, and after conferring with the school committee, it was decided the homecoming game against the Templeton High Tigers will be pushed from Saturday to Sunday. The game will kick off at one o'clock. There will be extra security on hand for the game, so please plan for delays."

"The football game?" Quinn said. "How can anyone thing about a football game right now?"

Avery shrugged. She'd also forgotten about the game, with everything else that had happened. But she usually attended in order to write up a news article on the win or the loss on the school blog.

"Finally," the principal said, "given the events of the past several days, there will be a town council meeting on Tuesday night to determine whether or not this year's harvest festival and dance will be cancelled. The meeting will be held at six p.m. in the school gymnasium. For those of you who wish to voice your opinion, the council welcomes your opinion." Avery rolled her eyes. The town council welcomed your opinion as much as they welcomed a kick to the face. But the way her principal advertised it, it was almost inviting.

Quinn frowned. "You don't really think they'd cancel the harvest fest, do you? I mean, it's been around since my parents were little." She shook her head. "I guess they're really taking this seriously."

"Of course it's serious," Avery said. "People are dead, Quinn. Our classmates are dead and we could be next. The killer is still out there." It sounded dramatic, Avery knew that. But it was plausible, especially given her Ghostchat message.

Quinn raised her brows. "What happened to Miss Intrepid Reporter, filled with curiosity and a Lois Lane attitude?" Quinn chided her. "I thought this was 'Story of the Century' stuff for you, and now you're all doom and gloom."

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