Page 45
Author: Kirsty Moseley
“She said she was going to. ”
“I bet they class it as a crime of passion. ”
“Don’t they say that nine out of ten victims know their murderer?”
“Who would have thought that someone so quiet could do something like that. It’s sick. ”
I gritted my teeth, glaring the nearest person to me who was watching me with a mixture of fascination and fear. The girl looked away quickly, giggling with her friends that I’d just given her a death glare.
“Stabbed repeatedly apparently. Blood everywhere. A friend of my mom’s was the one that found her, said she looked like she’d been gutted,” a freshman muttered to his friend off to one side. Vomit rose in my throat as images of Sandy strewn out in some dark alleyway with knife wounds swam before my eyes.
“I spoke to Maisie once, she seemed nice, I didn’t every think that she would go crazy like this. ”
Tears of indignation stung my eyes as I looked over my shoulder at Luke. I begged him silently with my eyes to say something, to stop them talking about me like that. They’d listen to him, he was popular and everyone hung on his every word because of that.
He lifted his chin, looking out over the people that were standing around watching us carefully. “What the hell are you all thinking it’s Maisie for? It wasn’t her so just stop with the gossip and go to class!” he ordered. No one moved so he scowled around at the crowd. “She was with me last night anyway, so go find some other innocent person to pin it on because you’re all behaving like a bunch of moronic children right now. ”
I gulped, trying not to act surprised at his revelations. I’d just told him that I didn’t want to lie and say he was with me, but with everyone looking at me like that, accusing me with their eyes, I was actually immensely grateful that he had lied for me. At least now people would have to look elsewhere for who had done it. Hopefully that would quash the ridiculous accusations towards me before it reached the police officers, and I was incorrectly arrested for something I hadn’t done.
Luke threw his arm around my shoulder, using his other arm to push his way through the crowd towards my locker. I pressed myself against him, gripping his shirt tightly in my fist as the whispering continued - but now it was different, people were asking who it was if it wasn’t me, they were speculating that it could have been anyone. By the time I had my books and Luke had weaved us through to where my first class was, peoples’ suggestions were getting wilder and wilder, I even heard one guy joke that maybe Sandy was a whore and was murdered by her pimp.
Luke stopped outside my classroom, looking at me apologetically. “I’m sorry I said that. I know we just agreed that we wouldn’t, but I couldn’t just let people look at you like that. I’m sorry,” he whispered, wincing as if he was waiting for me to scold him.
“Thank you,” I whispered, pressing my face into the side of his neck. His smell filled my lungs and my knees went a little weak, probably from the lack of food and the shock of what I’d heard.
He chuckled making the sound vibrate through his chest. His hand closed around my ponytail, pulling gently but firmly, forcing my head to tilt up. “There was me thinking I was going to get a mouthful of those awesome cuss words,” he teased, grinning down at me wickedly.
I smiled despite the fact that inside I felt like crying. “Some other time, I’m too exhausted to cuss you out today. ”
“See you at lunch,” he said as the second bell went, signalling he was now late for his class which was half way around the building from here. I nodded, waving a goodbye as he turned and ran off. I took a few deep breaths, steeling myself because I knew I was going to see people now and had no Luke to lean on and hide behind.
What I’d forgotten though when I’d hardened myself against what I was going to encounter in my first class, was that Sandy shared this class with me.
As I pushed the door open I saw that most people were sitting down already, the teacher was sat at her desk, seeming a little bemused as to what to do. Sandy’s empty desk caught my attention immediately. A cold shiver seemed to tickle down my spine as I hunched my shoulders, pulling the strap of my backpack further up as if I could somehow hide behind the thin strip of nylon. The room had an eerie silence, so a few people looked up at me as I stepped into the room. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one late though as a couple of others breezed in behind me. Twenty-five sets of eyes seemed to pierce into me as I shuffled into the desk that I usually occupied in this class. I dropped my gaze to the table, shifting uncomfortably in my seat praying for the end of the day already.
Fortunately for me, one of Sandy’s close friends had this class too so she took the attention off of me as soon as she walked in the door. She came in, still crying - not the quiet sobbing kind, but full on wailing, snot on the face, red puffy eyes crying. The teacher jumped up from her seat, rushing over and immediately wrapping a supportive arm around Rochelle’s shoulder.
“I’m g-going to m-miss her s-so much!” Rochelle croaked, blowing her nose loudly on a hankie that Mrs Walters seemed to materialise out of thin air. “She was s-so p-perfect, and now she’s g-gone! Who would d-do such a horrible th-thing?”
I closed my eyes, resting my head down on my arms trying not to let my imagination run wild. If this was what Sandy’s friends were like, what on earth must her parents be like today? How were they coping? I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t stop myself. Even though I never liked the girl, my eyes glazed over hearing how much she was going to be missed. Though, somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered just how much of Rochelle’s wailing was an act so that people would feel sorry for her. The whole of the cheer squad were fake and bitched behind the other’s backs so it wouldn’t surprise me if I learnt that Rochelle didn’t even like Sandy that much.
They placated her with kind words and hugs. The teacher abandoned the lesson plan for today. After a while there was a knock at the door and the receptionist poked her head in. “Hi, I need a few moments with Rochelle Levine and Maisie Preston,” she said, reading our names off of a piece of paper.
I frowned, looking at her quizzically. What does she want me for? Mrs Walters walked over to me, tapping on my desk. “Off you go, Maisie,” she instructed, nodding at the door. I gulped, standing quickly and gripping my backpack that I hadn’t even opened yet. Rochelle was glowering at me hatefully as she swiped at her nose again with the hankie. I sidestepped around her, following the receptionist out into the hall. A group of about ten students stood there too, all looking bemused and bored at the same time. Most of them were from the cheer squad, some of them from the football team and also a couple of stragglers from my year that I knew by face only. When Rochelle stepped out she was immediately greeted by cooing words and hugs, which of course started the tears all over again.
“Come with me, please,” the receptionist requested, marching off up the hallway. I walked behind her, somewhat taken aback by how quickly she walked. She was getting on in years, I would guess in her late fifties, but she marched along the hallway like a spring chicken.
I jogged to catch up with her, setting my pace alongside hers. “Where are we going?” I asked, looking back at the group who were idling along behind us.
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “Police just want a word with you students first. They’ll be talking to most of your year about the murder, but they’re doing it in stages. Just routine so I’ve been told,” she answered somewhat excitedly.
I gulped. So why was I getting questioned first? I looked back at the group. They were all close to Sandy one way or another, but I wasn’t… had someone told the police about what I’d said when we were fighting? I was silently thankful to Luke for helping me and giving me an extra alibi. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I suddenly felt as if I was about to face the firing squad.
Chapter 22
The receptionist led us to the south side of
the building and to a row of chairs that had been set out along the side of the hallway. A police man in full uniform stood outside a classroom door, regarding us with intrigued eyes as we all filed down towards him.
“Take a seat. You’ll be called in one by one to answer a few questions. Hopefully we won’t keep you long,” he instructed, waving a hand at the chairs.
I sat, setting my backpack on my lap and hugging it to my chest. Practically as soon as we were all seated, the classroom door opened and another uniformed officer, this one female, stuck her head out. “Alright, who’s first?” she asked, looking down at her clipboard. “Terence Fuller, please,” she added, looking up at us.
Terrence stood, shoving his hands into his pockets as he trudged past me, not seeming intimidated by this in the least. When the door closed shutting Terence off in there with the police, I looked around at the other faces that were here with me. Everyone seemed a little apprehensive; some of them still had puffy eyes where they’d been crying. I hugged my bag tighter, pleased that it wasn’t just me that seemed to be nervous about what I was going to be asked.
Terence was in and out within five minutes, disappearing down the hallway without another word. The next person was called in and still I sat there, my stomach churning with anticipation. Finally, after four other people had been in and left already, I was called in.
I gulped as I stood. My legs felt weak as I took the few steps towards where the female officer was standing with the clipboard, waiting for me. I lifted my chin, trying not to show I was nervous. I had nothing to be nervous about anyway but I was always a worrier with things like this. When I got to the police lady she stepped back, waving me into the room.
An ageing plain clothes police officer sat there with a notepad and coffee set on the desk in front of him. He swept a hand through his short salt and pepper hair and regarded me with hard, steely grey eyes that made me squirm on my feet. Principal Bennett sat in the corner of the room and smiled kindly at me as I sat in the chair that had obviously been set out for me.
Free Falling Page 45
