Entry 6: Girls. Girls. Girls.

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It's not her fault.

Honestly, she's a lovely girl. I've spoken to her on several occasions. She's clever and has a sense of humor. She's super nice, too nice like the human equivalent to a fluffy bunny. It's not her fault that I fell for her boyfriend and every time I see her I want to slam her fingers into my locker. There's so many times I imagined her fingers popping off.

Profile: Lindsay Winkle

(I've found it very difficult to write a nonbiased profile on her)

· Limp pale brown hair. Wrinkled dress shirts with her uniform.

· Bowlegged.

· High. Whiney voice.

She walked into the newspaper room. I sat on top of Joseph's desk, striking my red pen through his poor grammar and his inability to create a comprehensive sentence. In exchange, he gave me a very large coffee (I ignored the scribbled label underneath the rim: breakfast, wishing to avoid any more fighting). Yet, I couldn't help but pay attention to Lindsay. She glanced around until someone pointed her towards Mickey by the computers. She smiled and fucking frolicked through the classroom to reach him.

"Hey babe," she tapped his shoulder and he spun around, giving her his complete attention.

"Hey babe, might I say you look even better than the last time I saw you."

"You mean fifteen minutes ago?"

Mickey Holly used to not be so cheesy.

I gagged loud enough to be noticed and Cathy chucked a paper wad at me. She had been waiting for her moment to strike. She kept a few paper balls in her arsenal to punish me (probably because she didn't have a spray bottle handy). Pushing up my glasses, I glanced back at Joseph's article. Over the top of the paper, I watched Lindsay sit by the keyboard. Quickly, Mickey moved it away so she wouldn't accidentally turn his Caps lock on.

"Troy, Jason, Mandy and me—" Mandy and I "—were going to order some pizza and eat it in Mr. Thompson's room. We're all gonna watch a movie, wanna come?"

Going to. Want to. When did it become too hard to say want to? If I could just take a red pen to her, I'd make her do everything over.

"Sorry, I can't," Mickey frowned. He explained, "I have a lot of work to do here and I really want to get it done before practice."

She frowned and tried begging, but Cathy chucked another ball of paper and this time I really did continue to correct Joseph's article. I finished up promptly and told Joseph to come back to me later when he remembered how to use commas. I went to find Lisa, the head editor and asked if she had a skeleton key for the school. She asked why and I told her it was better if she didn't know. She said she didn't and that she probably wouldn't give it to me anyway, not after my mental breakdown yesterday.

Apparently, that was the headline yesterday.

Cathy and Joseph obviously didn't stick up for me either. I'm shown again that despite being crazy, Jacks was still a better friend. He might not believe me either, but at least he listened.

I slipped away, avoiding most of the eye contact from my peers and especially from Mickey Holly. I always raised my chin and puffed out my chest when I passed that guy. The specifics are not important, but I own a copy of Mickey Holly's schedule.

I put my feet in his shoes and walked a normal day in the life of a fake. My school could be taken directly out of a Victorian horror flick, complete with portraits that watch you walk and creaky wooden floors. There should be a woman in white sprinting down the hallway, screaming about the ghosts or the blood running down the walls.

It was all wooden molding, a charcoal color as if this place burned down and no one bothered to rebuild. I mean, the floor wasn't breaking underneath people, so why fix it? The ceilings were arched in the hallway between small chandeliers that hosted bountiful spider communities.

Most of the students had thinned out, returning to their dorms or they were outside for their preferred athletic activity. It was quieter than the usual dumb hum of conversation and squeaky feet. I tried to envision what this fake Mickey Holly would be thinking as I walked in his shoes. My attention was drawn to the windows. He walked by a lot of windows day by day when I noticed something that did not belong with the dozens of drab paintings and the velvet curtains and I'm not talking about the computers or the lockers.

"That's weird," I said, even for me. 

From the mouth of one of the marble busts, I noticed red cloth. It hung from the bust's mouth like a wet tongue and I reached for it, rubbing the fabric between my fingers and knowing it must be one of the penalty flags. I pulled to take it out when the flag caught on something. I pulled harder, but it was snagged.

Just barely, I could make out a clicking noise and grinding from behind the wall. Tilting my head, I leaned closer. The ticking quickened and I looked up and around, wondering if I was the one who caused this noise when the ground beneath me opened and I fell right on my back, but I couldn't focus on the aching pain as gravity did its work and pulled me down. My screams were quickly muffled by the trap door slamming shut. My heart jumped up my throat in a race with my blood to reach the top first. As I slid down this slide to hell, musty lamps blinked awake, lighting up the small passage that was flashing by me. Truly, it was all a blur.

As all things in life do, my joy ride ended with me hitting a wall. I slipped off the slide, only to continue across a narrow floor, straight into the wall. The wall cracked by my force and its dusty chips found their way in my throat. I coughed until I thought I was never going to be able to breathe again, hacking up a wad of phlegm. My fit left my throat and chest covered in deep burning scratches.

I pulled out my phone, throwing on the flashlight. I stood in this strange place, perfectly still. On one side was nothing but darkness and the other path led the same way. All my internal alarms sounded off, but my signal was lost. I was lost. Maybe my mind was really lost too. 

What I've gathered now, not at the time because, at the time, I was still too afraid and too shocked to process most of it, I came through a secret passageway and I walked through hours of hallways. So, I guess there was no real basement, just a series of ant tunnels that just happened to be underground and super secret. And if I didn't find the way out soon, this place was also going to be my own personal tomb.

Most of the doors I came upon were locked. Everything was caked in dust and I passed more rats than I had wished to ever see in my lifetime. It all felt like a trick. Somewhere Mickey Holly was cackling and again, I ended up being the butt of the joke. I flashed my light down, catching something. Shoe prints.

"Someone had been down here already," I whispered and bent down to inspect them closer. There were too large to be a woman's. I tilted my head and added, "And recently too."

I followed the feet like it was a trail of bread crumbs. When the feet ended, they seemed to disappear into a wall where I only found two crates that were spared from dust and age, underneath a single wall lamp. I could kick myself for not looking in the crates, but I was so desperate to get out to know there was an exit.

I grabbed the lamp and muttered, "If I can't beat them, join them." Using all my weight, I yanked the lamp and it pulled in an instant, slipping out of my fingers. I stumbled back as the lamp turned downward. Seams appeared from the wall in a puff of dust and I held my breath, throwing myself at the wall before it turned. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for anything for maybe another fall when I peeked out and found myself in the middle of a school hallway.

A couple of girls turned the corner, giggling at me. In their defense, I was sweating, covered in dirt and basically hugging the wall like it was my lover. I still shot them a dirty look and said, "What? Care to make a comment?"

That just made them laugh more.

I brushed off the dust that I could, picking out the cobwebs from my hair. It was the first time since I was a kid that I actually wanted a bath and I wanted home. I craved home. I craved my mother's cooking and the overpowering soaps she made. I craved the feeling of my older sisters running their hands through my hair. I thought about heading back to my dorm to research the Holly Foundation's ties to the school a little more when I spotted Neil McBride.

Profile: Neil McBride

· All muscle.

· All meat.

· All around giant.

All these things also made him a damn good catcher for the baseball team. Though it was difficult to get past the ducky pajama pants. I snorted. "New uniform?"

"Practice canceled, man! I'm working for the weekend!" He grinned.

"Really?" I stopped and immediately changed course the other way to catch up with him. I asked, "Did you just find out?"

"What? No, we've known for a week. Coach went to his sister's wedding today. Man, we had to do like a million sprints yesterday just so he'd get off our backs-"

Looks like Mickey Holly lied to his girlfriend.

"Thanks, Neil!" I shouted, giving him a quick pat on the back before sprinting back to the journalism room. I ducked behind the trashcan outside of the women's bathroom. I could see perfectly into the room, Cathy who was scrolling through Twitter with Joseph's nose back onto his laptop screen, my notes crumbled in his fist against his forehead.

Mickey sat at his computer, low in his seat like he wasn't going to move for a while. Yet, I waited, I stayed glued to the floor. Girls left the bathroom, tossing their papers away and giving me a death stare. Ignoring them, I didn't take my eyes off Mickey Holly. Then, a chill crept down my legs and I knew I cut off my blood circulation for too long. Pins and needles took my feet first and I was in trouble.

Groaning, I bounced up and down, willing Mickey to leave already. He might not have lied about having a workload, but he definitely blew Lindsay off (his precious, precious girlfriend). Mickey spun around his chair, glancing at the others. He said something, too far away for me to hear but I saw them all wave and look his way.

Casually, he stood and grabbed his bag before leaving the room. I waited for a few beats to pass before standing and nearly falling back down. Pain ripped up my calves and I opened my mouth as if to scream, but went silent. I must be the biggest idiot in the world. All this hiding was really going to kill me. I stumbled, bearing through the pain to reach the far wall.

He walked to the end of the school, through the back door that screeched when it was opened. A gust of cold autumn air washed over the floor and he disappeared into the crisp light. I sprinted to the exit, stopping it from closing. Waiting to go out made me anxious, thinking he would just be on the other side with his smug smile, asking what the hell I was doing.

I pushed the heavy metal door open, peeking through and seeing Mickey's back shrink in the distance. He was entering the woods. The school was plopped down in the middle of a thick forest, its branches fencing all the students inside without hope of fleeing. Every year at least three kids go missing in the woods. They usually come back okay, but never the same.

Just in case, I sent a quick text to Cathy that if she didn't hear from me within three hours to alert the authorities. I then turned off my phone to avoid getting caught by the sound of my phone ringing or a text alert.

From tree to tree, I made sure to stay far enough behind. I moved when he moved, so the sounds of our feet hitting the ground could line up. The leaves have mostly completely fallen from the trees and cover the ground in warm colors of red and orange, slowly fading to brown. He fit in with the colors so well that he disappeared.

I couldn't keep up without raising suspicion, but how could he just vanish? There's the whole fucking woods! It's not like he could jump in a closet and hide or fake a left and go right down a hallway. There are no ups or downs besides the occasional hill. I still trudged on, refusing to lose him, refusing to not find out where he went off to.

I walked deeper into the woods, keeping my three-hour time limit in mind. There was no way I was going to become a dumb statistic. Time became my concerned when it really shouldn't have. Only minutes were going by but the temperature dropped fast like the sun was setting like I had chased him into the even when common sense said that was impossible.

"Impossible," I whispered as I leaned down and picked up a leaf, covered in frost. Actually, the more I walked, the more frost there was like a wedding veil draped over the earth. Ice hung from branches and goose bumps trickled up my arms. I crossed my arms, burying myself in my blazer. I longed for my coat back in the dorm. I'd even take one of Jacks' stupid cloaks. The cold passed straight through me without a problem, freezing my nose and cheeks raw. I shuddered again and checked the time.

Only ten minutes had passed.

Again, I once thought I was a sensible person. Mickey Holly was nonsensical.

"Ben," A voice came from behind and I couldn't stop the scream of terror that ripped out of my throat. I whirled around my phone tight in my clutches. I was ready to bludgeon anyone with it, without a second thought but all I saw was Neeve.

Profile: Neeve (?)

· Tall. Athletic.

· Latino? (Unknown). Dark skin and short hair like a bob from the 1920s.

· Perfect posture. Dark, apathetic eyes...

· And..?

I don't know Neeve's last name.

I don't know much about Neeve at all.

She just transferred into this school this year. She slipped seamlessly into the student body. Having arrived on the first day, she avoided the normal class by class introductions. Who knows, maybe she's in one of my classes and I've never noticed. She regarded me, her head tilted and I could see my reflection in her eyes. I looked like an idiot.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice soft and dreamy. "Are you lost?" Her voice wrapped around me, shielding me from the frost and the ice. She smiled easily, like liquid she moved and took my hand. Her touch burned my skin. She was shockingly warm. I could probably fry an egg on her arm. My fingers were blue.

"Let me take you back," she encouraged and I lost the will to find Mickey. My legs moved with hers, she'd pull my arm and I'd walk faster. A daze swept over me and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. The world was changing, painted with hues of pink and red and a rainbow concoction spilled into the sky.

Before I knew it, I was back in my dorm room in bed as if I had taken a very unsatisfying nap. Someone dumped cement into my limbs and took a jackhammer to my skull. With a groan, I turned in my bed and buried myself in the comforter. Sleep quickly took me.

Thankfully, I awoke to Jacks hanging up garlic again so I had time to stop him and write today's events down (I'm willing to allow Jacks divulge in most things, but I will not have my room smell like a bad Italian buffet). I focused on the forest. There's something there that Mickey doesn't want anyone to know about, something worth lying to his girlfriend about. And Neeve. The frost. The... spell I was under. How I lost all my free will. She could have told me to do anything and I would have done it.

I looked at Jacks.

Could it be we're both right? Could it be while the whole world thinks we're both crazy, we actually both know something they don't. As soon as I had this thought, Jacks crept back into the closet with his weird lights and smoke and I decided he really was just crazy. Probably.

In fairness, I've decided to keep the possibility open.

Mickey is definitely hiding something and if he's lying to everyone, he has to be hiding everything somewhere close to him. The thing about secrets is that they always have a way of getting out. That's the beauty of secrets.

Like anyone in this day and age, I know just where to look.

Knocking on the closet first, I asked Jacks, "Hey, will you do me a favor?"

He sighed, short with me, "Another?"

"Yes, I need a little assistance tomorrow."

His groan, I took as a yes.

#

Hello friends! Thank you for taking the time to read my weird little book! I hope you're enjoying yourself. What's a story set in a boarding school without secret passage ways even worth? Lol. So, where's your stance so far on magic? Real or not real? You decided!

Remember to vote on the chapter and leave a comment! Make sure to add this story to your library or reading list of choice, if you'd like to keep up with it! I'll be updating every Monday! 

And if you liked my writing style and you like funny books of the lesbian persuasion, check out my other novel "30 Day Trial Period"!

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