The Classix

(OLD) Chapter 32

Note: Your favorite Slytherin showed up on Friday for once. I'M SO HAPPY TO BE HERE POSTING, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW. I've been hating this whole "midterms are taking over my entire life" thing that's been going on.

CHECK OUT THE ATTACHED VIDEO––IT'S A TRAILER FOR THE FAMOUX!! I'm LIVING for those Neon Demon clips. Crazy movie, but total Famoux aesthetic. Enjoy it with me!!

emeray

    At the mere thought of Foster being alive, my legs suddenly buckle to life. I'm just barely able to jolt myself into action so that I don't fall to the floor, stumbling forward as graceless as a newborn animal taking its first steps. Almost instinctively, I move toward the door from which he's just exited, drawing curious stares and whispers in the process. Emeray Essence, leaving so soon? What's up with her? The headlines hit me like hail.

    As I approach, I lock eyes with the bouncer.

    "You saw him too?" I ask.

    He hesitates, but his eyes say everything. "Miss Essence––"

    "You did, didn't you?"

    "I––I did see a young man . . ."

    "Foster."

    "Ma'am, that's impossible."

    I clench my fists. He saw him too. He saw him.

    "You saw him up close," I remind him. "You saw the details of his face. He was even the right height and everything."

    "I saw someone, ma'am."

    "But he looked––"

    "There are a lot of sick people in the world," says the bouncer. "I'm sure you know that from your own choice in occupation. Whoever dressed up like that was trying to get this reaction from you."

    "But he didn't just dress up––he was him."

    "Miss Essence––"

    "And how did he get in here anyway?"

    "Huh?"

    "How did he even get into Ace?" I ask. "This is a closed party. Wouldn't you have seen him when he entered?"

    "Must've put on the disguise when he came inside." The bouncer tries to sound collected, but he's too shaken for me to believe him. "Look, it's confusing as hell, but he didn't hurt anybody."

    "But––"

    "He's off property now. Just enjoy your party, Miss Essence."

    The last part escapes me; I'm already looking off at the door. It seems to come to mind for the first time, that Foster Farrand––if it's actually him––just left the club, and I'm standing here letting him go. Pushing past the bouncer, I rush through the vestibule and out onto the street.

    The paparazzi is obviously confused to find me outside so soon. Camera flashes come in delayed, a refrain of questioning tumbling into my ears like a rockslide.

    "Emeray Essence?"

    "What happened?"

    "Are you leaving?"

    "Did something happen with Cartney?"

    I turn back toward the door as the bulbs go off rapidly. The knob flickers in the light, mocking me with its impossibility. How can it be that this is the same door Foster came out of not three minutes ago? These cameramen have been stationed out here for the entire evening.