The rest of the day went on as it went.

Shay managed to fix her makeup the best she could, but she was sure she still looked miserable.

She wished she could pluck her eyes out to scrape off all the redness before popping them back in.

None of her classmates said anything.

Shay was sure everyone noticed and they were just being polite.

Even Aquila didn’t mention it.

They had a random conversation about nothing important.

Shay forgot everything about it the second it was over.

Classes ended with the shrill scream of the school bell. The day had been so long... and so forgettable-- six and a half hours passing in malaise and monotony.

Classes. Learning. She was supposed to be building up her future-- or something. The future sounded nice. It held a promise of healing. It held a promise for... something better.

Something magical?

Something less mundane... and sad... and depressing.

Shay thought about going to see Miss Ansari. She was an adult-- a real adult. Adults had all the answers.

She decided against it. She wasn’t that desperate... not yet, anyway.

Shay stopped walking before she ran into someone standing in her way.

Platform boots. Fishnet stockings... and multiple tattoos on pale legs.

Black, business-cut skirt-- high cut. Racy.

Shay realized she was slouching and looking down as she walked... so she stood up straight and looked up at the woman in front of her.

Metal piercings, dark eyeliner, and dark, almost black lipstick. She wore a blazer, unbuttoned-- revealing more tattoos on her neck, collar, and cleavage.

Then... Shay almost missed it, but the woman had a faded scar below her lip, running down her chin. Did she... get in a lot of fights?

Also, a pen stuck out of her hair bun, keeping it together.

She... was most definitely not a student.

“Are you Shay?” the woman asked. “Student Council President?”

Her dark eyes were fierce. Her presence and posture were... a bit overwhelming.

“Y-yes?” Shay said, “Who... are you?”

“Not important,” the woman said. “I’m told you were close to the late James Price?”

James...

That wasn’t even remotely true.

Shay read the lanyard around the woman’s neck.

Name: Raia Latorre.

Arkham Enquirer.

That was a tabloid... that tabloid.

They were the ones who covered James’ death... but they also said that he was kidnapped and tortured and murdered by aliens-- or something like that.

When it came to the Enquirer, aliens were always involved, somehow.

Shay shook her head, “No... I didn’t know him that well.”

Raia shifted her weight, resting her clipboard and its clipped manila folder against her waist.

“Well, I think you do,” she said-- "or... did, anyway."

Shay furrowed her brows.

Raia was a reporter. That meant she was also a bully. The aggressive way she spoke, the way she dressed, and even the numerous (and honestly, really cool) tattoos reinforced the fact.

“Well, I don’t,” Shay said. “I didn’t. He sat at the desk next to mine-- but it wasn’t like we talked or anything.”

“Did you like him?”

“No~!” Shay said, near-shouting.

Raia tilted her head up, smirking like she’d won a battle.

Shay felt a grimace cross her face, annoyed at the expression-- annoyed at how tall she looked in her platform boots.

“Was he well liked?” Raia asked.

Shay closed her eyes. She didn’t want to answer.

But... she had to.

It was about James. And he deserved to be remembered-- even if it was by the Arkham Enquirer.

She sighed... “Yeah, he was well liked. He was the second-most popular guy in class.”

“Psh. Sure.” Raia snorted a laugh.

Heat rose up in Shay’s back and neck, “What’s so funny?”

“Not important,” Raia said, “Who’s first-most popular?”

“Some guy who jerks it to porn in the locker rooms,” Shay said flatly.

“Ugh, gross,” Raia said with an expression that matched her tone. “But... I guess that’s just what guys do?”

Shay glared up at her, “And he got caught doing it with a bunch of other guys.”

Raia’s face twisted even further, “Eeergh, guys... 99.9% of guys are disgusting pigs. I think I know... just one that isn’t?”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Huh. Shay also knew just one she didn’t expect that kind of behavior from.

“So can I get a name for jerk-off boy?” Raia asked.

Shay bit her lower lip, “His name... is Andrew Zhang. He’s not around, though. He got hospitalized for something earlier in the week.”

“Lemme guess: wrist-related?”

“Something related to his hobbies, I’m sure.”

“Figures,” Raia nodded. “Andrew... uh-- was his last name with... a J?”

She raised her clipboard and patted at her pockets.

“Hey, have you seen my pen?” she asked.

“Why would I know where your pen is?” Shay said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Also, she did know where Raia’s pen was. She just didn’t want to tell her.

“Anyway,” Raia said, “Andrew-- ugh.. whatever? Can you spell his name for me?”

She thumbed open the manila folder on her clipboard. Paperclips and photographs spilled from the folder to the floor. Full and half-formed expletives spilled from her mouth, echoing in the hallways.

Raia might not have been the most put-together reporter the Enquirer had.

Not nearly as annoyed as she was earlier, Shay bent down to help Raia pick everything up. She did like the colorful paperclips-- those cost a little extra.

She picked up a photograph.

It was a picture of a person.

--no. It was a body.

Could that have been James?

The boys’ striped uniform tie... the blazer with the school emblem...

Their shirt was torn open and...

--his face and features were pale and shriveled.

But the person’s hair hair... it was blonde... and short...... just as Shay remembered.

Then... the glasses.

James’ circular glasses.

His eyes. His eyes were wide open.

He died afraid.

The photo was snatched out of her hand. Shay still felt the sensation of the glossy paper between her thumb and forefinger. And, by then, the image had already been burned into her memory.

“Did you see?” Raia asked.

Shay frantically shook her head before she even understood the question.

It was a lie. No. It was a wish.

“Good,” Raia frowned... “It’s not something a high school student is supposed to see.”

She asked a few more follow-up questions. Shay answered them, straight-- without any more atittude.

And then Raia was gone.

Shay walked home quietly... deep in thought.

Baffled.

In disbelief.

Terrified.

Weighed down by undeniable proof...

--that.

aliens.

were.

r e a l .

----------------------------------------

Shay woke up early the next morning. She sat up in her bed like a zombie coming back to life.

Aliens were real?

Why the heck did she think THAT?!

Aliens didn’t suck out all the water out of someone’s body!

--not unless James’s fluids were made up of 75% sucrose~

They beamed people up into their circular ships, probed their butts, and beamed them back down into random corn fields.

And then, they put shapes and patterns into those corn fields as an eternal reminder of what they’d done!

--or at least until the corn got harvested.

No, it couldn’t have been an alien.

Shay squinted her eyes.

A vampire.

James got bit by a vampire.

Or maybe... a large, very hungry, and very determined mosquito.

--but a vampire made more sense. Or... maybe the same amount of sense.

A vampire had killed her friend.

Err... a vampire had killed her desk-mate.

That’s why that reporter...

Hm.

Shay went about her daily morning habits, thinking about her brief meeting with Raia.

What color were her eyes?

Were they red? Or yellow, maybe? --an archetypical vampire-y color? Shay wish she paid more attention. Everything else about that person was easy to remember.

Pale skin, dark lips... wicked, evil-looking, gothic tattoos? She might have been a vampire. And if she was, she was trying to ensure no one was following up on her crimes.

No... that didn’t make sense. She was walking around in the middle of the day-- which was something vampires didn’t do.

A hundred other thoughts and theories and hypotheticals streamed through Shay’s head.

But after her morning shower, she stepped back into her room, drying her long hair... and stared listlessly at her bed.

What could she do?

She was a single girl-- still in school and barely an adult. She didn’t have any money. She didn’t have any connections. She didn’t have any skills relevant to vampire hunting.

--or vampire finding.

Or were those the same thing?

And who would benefit from her looking for James’ murderer?

It wouldn’t bring him back.

There was no such thing as his family ‘resting easily', even if their son’s killer was locked away in a casket, a stake through their heart.

James was still gone...

And if she looked into things and screwed it all up, that would cause all sorts of problems.

Shay hopped back into her bed, rubbing her face against her pillow.

...The mysterious man.

She glanced to her desk... at his shining golden pin. It stuck out against the faded black of her bag.

He’d probably be able to figure something out.

Smarts. Wealth. Connections... he probably had all of that.

Or maybe... she had to get in trouble again before she got saved??

That’s when heroes usually showed up: when all hope was lost.

“SHAYYYYYY!!!!”

Her aunt’s voice called for her. A cool chill of fear ran down her back and the prickly pokes of annoyance settled in right after.

“Get down here, you USELESS CHILD!!!”

Shay sighed as she crawled back out of bed.

Hopeless...

--on top of being useless...

That’s all she was... and would ever amount to.