Page 337 of Filthy Elites

Oh well. Guess I had better get ready for yet another glorious day at Baymont High.

I’m worried about the picture Dare had me share. I made it so only my followers can see it, but it feels inevitable that someone will have taken a screenshot and sent it to Anae.

I use the new shampoo and conditioner Dare bought me at the salon. It smells fabulous and makes my hair feel so soft.

While I’m in the shower, my mind drifts to Hannah. I imagine getting out and finding a message from her that she loves popcorn. I imagine making plans to go there together because I think she’d really like the place.

When I get out of the shower, there’s no message from Hannah.

I sigh, a little disappointed, and finish getting ready for the day.

___

When I get to school,there’s a strange energy in the air. It’s as if I’ve walked into the middle of a stage production without even having glanced at my lines.

Something’s up and I’m out of the loop.

Dread moves over me. It wasn’t long ago I never would have stepped foot into Baymont High and assumed whatever drama was circulating had a thing to do with me, but since Dare came into my life, it seems like I’m always involved.

I’m glad I got to school a little early this morning because although Hannah didn’t message me back, I see her heading my way down the hall. Since she’s in the grade below me, we don’t have a lot of opportunities to actually see each other at school. I’m ready to ask if she got my message about the popcorn place and if she maybe wants to go this weekend, but my smile drops when I see she is definitelynotsmiling.

“Hey,” I say.

She thrusts a sheet of paper at me. “Have you seen this?”

I frown, taking the paper. I scan it and see it’s another damn haiku, but this one’s not about me. “No? What is it?”

“These were printed off and left on the counters in restrooms all over the school.”

I take a minute to actually read the haiku so I can see what she’s so worked up about.

Rina

By: Anonymous

A hateful message

of seventeen syllables.

Good luck typing now.

“Okay,” I drawl, glancing at her uncertainly. “I still don’t know what this is?”

“Haven’t you heard what happened?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“Rina Cahill was attacked over the weekend.”

I have no idea who that is. “Attacked how?”

Hannah sighs. “Someone nailed her to a park bench, Aubrey.”

My jaw drops. “Oh my god! How horrific.”

She nods. “Yeah. Someone catfished her. She thought she was there for a hookup. This psycho lured her there, and then nailed her hands to the wooden park bench they were supposed to meet up at.”

“Wow, that’s insane. I can’t believe something like that happened in Baymont. I don’t know what that has to do with this, though,” I say, holding up the paper.

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