Chapter 13
LACEY
Another One Bites The Dust by Queen
“Shit!” I cry out as I kick the pipe beneath the sink. Pain radiates through my foot.
This blue glitter will not stay stuck to my eyelid.
It’s all falling out all over my under eyes, making me look like I have black eyes.
This fucking sucks. I was able to find a replacement dress last minute, thank God!
It’s not the exact same, but it’s still teal and has more tulle than even Cyndi Lauper wears.
If only I can get this glitter to stay on my eyelids instead of under them.
With a final swipe of tissue under my eye and a fluff to my hair, I head out of the bathroom. The hallways are eerily quiet. I hate this school when no one else is around. It’s cold and stale and creepy as fuck.
“Stacey?” I call out. “Whitney?”
No answer.
We’re supposed to get here early to set up all the decorations, but so far, I’m the only one who’s arrived. Fucking bitches.
Taking a left down the next hallway, I re-enter the gym.
The blue lights shine down on the glittering decorations, bathing everything in a sapphire glow.
Streamers and shimmering decor fall from the ceilings.
It totally looks like an undersea wonderland.
The gym is completely silent as I take in the fruits of our labor over the last several months.
The only sound comes from the small rustle of craft paper blowing beneath the air streaming in from the air conditioner.
It might still be cold outside, but we made sure they turned on the AC so that the dance floor didn’t get disgusting.
No one needs to have their prom memories tainted by Jay Kelley’s bad BO.
“Cannot believe they left me to do all this by myself,” I mutter as I grab one of the remaining posters and some tape. Climbing up on the ladder, I reach to position the poster against the wall, when the sound of a metal door slamming shut echoes through the empty gymnasium.
“Hello?” I ask, spinning around and dropping the poster. “Is anyone there?”
No answer.
I turn back around. A dangling piece of steamer, which is supposed to be part of a jellyfish, gets stuck to my fake eyelashes. “Shit,” I mumble as I attempt to pull the paper out of my eye.
And then I hear it—slow, steady footsteps.
My heart riots in my chest and my mouth goes dry. Images of a person looming over me, a disgusting pig mask covering their face, and a knife waving in their hand rush through my mind.
“Stacey, this isn’t funny!” I call out, hoping that it’s just my friends playing a joke on me.
The steady whir of the air conditioner blasting cool air into the room is so loud I can barely hear anything else.
Slipping from the ladder, I step down onto the hard floor.
The sound of my heels clacking against the wooden flooring echoes through the empty space.
Creeping as quietly as possible, I make my way back towards the open doorway leading to the darkened hallway beyond.
Everything is eerily quiet, eerily still.
“Boo!” someone shouts, grabbing me around the waist.
I spin and scream, flailing my arms out as I desperately try to get away.
“Fuck, Lacey, chill,” Stacey grumbles as she lets go and takes a step back.
My heart is racing, its beat pounding in my ears. My breaths come in short, choppy gulps as I try to calm myself back down.
“What the fuck?” I blurt out between gasping breaths as I hold my chest.
“Calm down, babe,” Stacey balks as she spins to go pick up the poster that I dropped.
She looks amazing tonight. Her magenta dress hugs her body perfectly, showing off her curves.
The sequined bodice shimmers in the low lights in the gym, making her look like some kind of slutty fairy.
Her hair is pulled back into some type of twisted bun and shimmering earrings dangle from her ears.
Her makeup is dark and sultry, making my blue shimmer feel silly.
“We need more streamers,” Stacey calls at me over her shoulder as she steps onto the ladder to hang the poster I just abandoned. “Can you go grab some of the rolls from where we left them in the closet next to Principal Matthews’ office?”
I huff in slight annoyance but agree. Maybe walking to the front office will help me get out some of these nerves anyway.
I’ve been jumpy since the other night in the alleyway, but tonight needs to be perfect.
It’ll be just me and Sam, having the prom of our dreams. That is, if I’m able to pull him away from his fucking twin for some of the evening.
I swear the two of them are too close. It’s fucking weird.
The hallways are deserted, not a soul in sight. It’s so creepy being at the school when no one else is here. This place is probably a Hellmouth of something and that’s why it feels like it’s cursed. The soft swish of tulle from my dress follows me as I swiftly make my way to the front office.
“Principal Matthews?” I call out as I gently push open the office area door. “Miss Stiph?” I call out for the head secretary too.
No answer.
Is no one at this fucking school for prom set-up? Does no one care that this is supposed to be the most magical day of our fucking lives?
With an exasperated sigh and a stomp of my pump, I stroll into the office.
Most of the lights are off in here too, but the glow from the back teacher work room throws enough light down the hallway that I can see where I’m going.
Walking by the registrar's office, I pause for a moment. I could like totally go in there and change some of my C’s to A’s on my transcript and no one would notice because no one’s here. But, that’d be bad… wrong… right?
Shit. Focus.
Continuing my quest, I head further down towards the very back of the office. Principal Matthew’s office is dark and appears empty, but the door is slightly ajar.
“Principal Matthews?” I call out. My voice shakes slightly as my nerves return in full force. “Miss Stiph?”
The door creaks slightly as I peer inside.
It’s too dark to make out much but it looks like it’s empty—just his desk and chair.
No monstrous masked men sitting in the principal's chair today. I let out a small chuckle. I’m being silly.
Nothing’s going on. We’re going to have an amazing time at prom.
I take a step back out into the hallway and head next door to open the closet and grab the streamers.
Blue and purple rolls of paper sit neatly on the shelf in front of me.
But a noise pulls my attention. A slow drip.
It sounds like a sink that hasn’t been completely shut off.
A voice in the back of my mind whispers that I should let it go, leave it be, just grab the streamers and go.
But another part of me is desperate to look.
It sounds like it’s coming from the teacher work room further down the hall, the one with the light on.
I should go.
I take a tentative step down the hallway. Then another. And another. The smell hits me first—the rich, metallic scent of blood. I swallow down my nerves.
“Mr. Matthews?” I call out as I take a shaking step forward.
A pool of red leaks across the linoleum floor of the work room, staining the edge of the hallway carpeting a dark brown color. My pulse begins to thunder, and my chest burns from holding my breath.
I take a final step forward and the entire scene comes into view.
Paul is splayed out on the work table in the center of the room—well, most of him is, at least. Paul’s suit-clad torso lays flat on the raised surface, but his head is on the floor.
His wide, dead eyes are staring straight at me, clouded by death.
It appears that he was decapitated by an industrial paper cutter, his jaggedly destroyed throat is still stuck in the instrument.
Shredded tendons are smeared all over the wooden surface beneath and a puddle of blood seeps from the wound, dripping onto the floor.
Someone killed Paul… someone who’s here at the school right now.