Page 22 of Alamort

I can be rather irrational. The emptiness of the room has a sinister feel to it. Shutting off the water, I dry myself and wrap a towel around my body.

“Hello?” Signal the stereotypical girl who gets killed in the locker room at her high school for being stupid and going outof her cornered stall. Is that a movie? Because I’m sure it’s happened somewhere.

When no one responds, I make a game plan. I’m going to dry off, put my clothes on as fast as I can in order to get the fuck out of here. Pretty foolproof plan, right?

Running for my life, I grab my clothes and run back into a dry stall and begin dressing like my life depends on it. I tuck my shirt into my skirt, coming up short. What the hell?

My hands graze against the rough, tattered fabric of my shirt, its threads frayed and torn. The sleeves are just lines with vertical cuts through them. The bottom of the shirt looks like a toddler who got ahold of scissors. Stomping out of the stall, I figure I’ll just wear my bloody shirt back to my room and change. That’s also missing. Gritting my teeth, I get into my locker, only to find it empty. My eye is twitching because of course I would attempt to be nice to someone and in return, they fuck me over.

What would she have to gain? I was being fucking helpful! The urge to scream is prominent. I’ll just go back to my dorm and it’ll be fine. Fuck my backpack, my clothes, and my classes. Just as I go to open the door. There’s a missing poster. The same one from the gas station posted on the back of the door. I don’t know if it’s exactly the same one, but it’s the same girl. Megan Riley.

Folding it up and tucking it into the waistband of my skirt, I leave the gym. Lo-and-behold, Amber is sitting outside with her camera. A flash overrides my vision.

“Wow, nice bra, Priya. Is everyone invited to the show? Or was it just for Bennett?” Amber snickers.

I cock my fist back. I may not be a fighter, but I can practice throwing a punch right to her pretty fucking nose so we can both match. A black-haired ball zooms by, catching my arm.

“Let’s not give the bitch what she wants. Which is you expelled on camera for punching her. M’kay?” River speaks lowly only for me to hear.

“She fucking shredded my shirt. All for what? Petty bullshit with her unfaithful boyfriend? I don’t even like the prick! All I wanted was to finish this fucking school year in peace and she seems content with not letting that happen!” I rage, struggling to get out of her iron grip.

“Okay, well, let’s get you covered up. Nice bra, by the way. Sexy. I pegged you for a Plain Jane, but the black lace?” She winks at me and leads me to a bathroom to change into a spare shirt of hers.

Sighing, I take it and change. “Plain Jane, huh?”

She cackles. “It got your mind off of it, though, right? Want to talk about it?”

I go into explaining about Lily crying, how I tried to help and when I heard her leave the room. Then I pull out the missing poster, hoping she’d shed some light on it.

“That’s fucking creepy.”

Thank you, I am aware of that. I lived it.

“So, why would a poster from four years ago pop up today?” I question.

“I don’t know Pri… It’s weird. Maybe they just wanted to scare you. And it worked, didn’t it?”

Yeah, but that doesn’t make sense. There’s no connection between the two of us. We didn’t know each other, not the same grade, and different birth years. It doesn’t make sense.

“I think we should look into it.” I push. There’s something about Megan not being talked about or acknowledged that sparks my curiosity. This is the second time I’ve come across this missing person ad. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.

Exasperated, she replies, “You want to look into a cold case that not even the cops could figure out? If the Demons hadanything to do with it, you’re as good as dead. Don’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong, Priya. People have died for less. You’re my only friend here. Please, drop it.” Her concern is endearing, but something about the events in the locker room rubs me wrong.

“Yeah, okay.” I say, deflated.

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“No.” I smile at her as she shakes her head.

“Come on, crazy, we got places to be.”

Even though I heeded Amber’s warning about Bennett Demonio, the Amber duo had already printed out pictures of me in my bra and plastered them all over the hallways, and on some social media site for the school by lunch.

In Psychology, I’m pulled out of class by none other than the douchebag that cornered me in the party to guide me to the deans’ office.

“Hey, nice picture. Adding to my spank bank.” His smug smirk tells me he had something to do with it. That’s fine. He’ll get what’s coming to him.

“Thanks, Austin!” I say to get under his skin.

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