Edited: March 2014

00000

Three Years Ago

Kale Yenker had been listening to his hand held radio that night. He would later tell police that was why he hadn't heard a thing. The football game was on as he swept the floor in the South Wing hallway of Brookland School. The fifty-two year old was hard of hearing due to an old accident in the factory that had let him go years before. So the radio was loud and even though he should have been able to hear the noises the boy made, they slipped by his notice.

The broom caught bits of paper, gum wrappers, dirt and dust in its bristles. That was all rather normal. He paused when the broom hit water. That was odd. The first odd thing he'd seen all night. There should be no water on the floor and Kale knew it. There was no mopping scheduled for the night; that wouldn't happen until Friday night and today was only Wednesday.

Kale leaned the broom against the wall and followed the puddle to the boy's bathroom door. He pulled the ear buds from his ears and heard the steady running of the bathroom faucet. That shouldn't be on. His eyebrows crinkled and he pushed open the door.

"Szar!" he screamed. The water covered the entire floor. The sink faucet was on, filling the sink and overflowing. In the back of his mind Kale knew that if the boy hadn't been in the sink, the sink wouldn't have overflowed. The old janitor also knew that acting on his impulse to pull the boy's face from the water wouldn't do any good either. He was dead. Probably had been for a while considering the amount of water on the floor. Kale turned and exited the bathroom. He needed a phone. Now.

00000

The police swarmed the school for the rest of that night and for most of the next week as well. Kale Yenker gave his statement. The water was finally turned off and the boy pulled from his position in the sink. He had been draped over the side, just enough to hold him there even when no one was touching him.

Rumors ran rampant. The murder had occurred after hours when the school should been closed. No one was supposed to be there. Conspiracy theories were everywhere, but those were always ignored by the people who knew better. The boy was given a memorial and flowers and candles covered the area beneath his locker for a few months. The media seemed enthralled by the mystery that surrounded it all and even ran a series of articles about it.

But the case went cold; the yellow tape was taken down; Kale Yenker continued sweeping the floors of Brookland on Wednesdays and mopping on Fridays. The old janitor never found anything like that again. But he did stop wearing the ear buds.

00000

Two Years Ago

"Did you hear about Coach Cyrus?" Tom asked.

"Who hasn't?" Alex replied, not really interested. He'd just gotten back from the Stormbreaker debacle and he wasn't thinking much about what was happening in the school at the moment. Although, it was an interesting piece of gossip. After all, how often was the head Coach imprisoned? "What was he arrested for again?"

"I don't really know," Tom shrugged, unconcerned with details. "I heard he was arrested for stealing but I don't know what he stole." Alex grunted in reply. Maybe if someone had thought to arrest Sayle a long time ago for something or other, none of what had happened would have happened. Oh well. It was over and he was back. He wondered if he could convince Tom to a pickup game after school.

"I heard a rumor," Tom continued, cutting into the blond boy's contemplation.

"Yeah?" Alex opened, never one for rumors but curious nonetheless. Tom only ever reported what was worth hearing. He was good like that.

"They're saying the Coach might have killed him," the other boy said, whispering the last word uncomfortably. Nobody talked about it anymore. Nobody even liked to say the name. Alex wasn't too sure why but the name of the murdered boy had become taboo over the last year. All things considered, however, it wasn't too far of a stretch to think that something unsavory was going on. There was always something happening in Brookland.

"Why?" Alex finally asked realizing that Tom was waiting for an answer. The other boy shrugged.

"Who knows?"

"The Coach had no reason to even look at him funny much less kill him," Alex continued knowing that there was something fishy in the way Tom was talking.

"I know that."

"Then why would people think-" Alex started only to be cut off.

"I don't know, Alex!" Tom snapped, stopping his friend cold. The blond looked at him with slightly widened eyes, wondering what had made Tom react like that. He had never seen Tom snap at anyone; the kid was the calmest person Alex had ever met.

Alex opened his mouth to say something but Tom had already walked off. Another first in their long friendship. The blond decided not to bring up the murder again. At least for now.

00000

One Year Ago

Fifteen, Alex decided, was a good age. He figured now was the time to start fresh. He decided he was going to go back to school and maybe get some good grades in the process. Who knew? Maybe he'd even reconnect with his old friends too. It had been a long time since he'd really and honestly been in Brookland. Despite everything-or maybe because of everything-he was ready to be walking the halls again.

He wouldn't doubt that he was the only student who truly loved the slam of lockers, the squeak of trainers on the waxed floors, and the smell of the floor cleaner the old man used when mopping every Friday night. It wasn't a bad smell and by the time Monday morning rolled around it was all but gone, lost in the mix of perfumes and deodorant. But Alex, trained to notice the minute details in everything and everyone, could smell the vague lemon scent. It was strongest when he leaned down to pick up his backpack from where he'd dumped it on the floor to open his locker. He liked that smell, that vague hint of lemon you could only smell every Monday. It reminded him of normalcy.

"Hey," Tom said loudly as he sidled up to the side of Alex's locker. The other teen was all smiles and bright eyes. Tom had always been a morning person. Even on Mondays. Alex normally hated him for it but today he was too excited to be back to pay much attention to Tom's normally annoying chattiness. "You're back! For how long?"

"For as long as it lasts," Alex replied. He was aiming for graduation but couldn't quite bring himself to hope for such a thing.

"Well, isn't that charmingly morose," Tom said, as Alex closed his locker door and the two began walking towards English together. "How does it feel to be back in these grand old halls?"

"Pretty good actually," Alex replied.

"Don't worry. That feeling will go away soon enough." Alex laughed at that, had to. Truth be told he knew that eventually the novelty of being back would wear off and he'd be as sour about being there as anyone else. For now though, he was looking forward to basking in normalcy.

When they entered their English class, several people turned and stared at him. He ignored them and sat down in the back with Tom. Once their attention was off of him he glanced around to see who was there. He was surprised to see an old friend of his from the rugby team, Max, talking with some of the drama club kids. He had on blue jeans and a rugby jersey, like always, but he was holding a small, blue booklet in his hand. His brown hair and blue eyes were the same as Alex remembered them to be but he also seemed to have put on a few more pounds.

"Since when does Max do theater?" Alex asked Tom quietly. The other boy glanced up and saw Max standing in the corner. He was looking at them now, and while the look wasn't sour it wasn't friendly either.

"For a couple of months I guess," Tom replied. "He took that class they make us all do last semester. I guess he liked it. He even quit the team."

"Really?" Alex asked, surprised. Max had loved playing rugby. That did explain the extra weight though. The boy wasn't working out anymore. Alex was distracted from Max at that moment when another face he recognized walked in. Blonde hair-much lighter than Alex's-and green eyes that met his gaze head on. If Max's look had been chilly this one was downright frozen. The other boy scowled at him and sat down next to a popular girl, Sara. The 'it' girl if Alex remembered correctly. The brunette bombshell leaned over and kissed the boy quickly on the cheek before the teacher could come in. Alex's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Ryan and Sara?" he asked incredulous and Tom smirked at the look on his face. "Since when?"

"Since Ryan got popular," Tom said. "You've been gone a long time Alex."

"Only a year," Alex said. Neither of them were counting the few days here and there when he'd come to class between missions. They didn't really matter.

"Long enough," Tom shrugged. "Things changed."

"You guys still hanging out?" he asked wondering if the old circle was still around. Based on the frosty reception, the answer would be a no.

"We sometimes go to the same parties," Tom started, "but nothing like it used to be. We all kind of do our own thing."

"So you're friendly but not friends," Alex stated.

"You could say that."

"I am saying that," Alex continued. "Would you say that?"

"Yeah, super spy," Tom said, a small amount of bite creeping into his tone. "I would say that." Alex eyed the other boy. He understood why continuing this line of conversation wouldn't be a good idea. The last thing he wanted was to get in a fight with Tom on his first day back. But something was niggling in his gut. Everything had changed so much in the time he'd been away. His only true friend was Tom. He didn't really have anybody else he could talk to.

He knew that the sheer destructive nature of his secrets would be a problem. But he had not expected Max's cold shoulder or Ryan's pure look of loathing. They had all been good friends once. Clearly it wasn't him though; none of them seemed to be speaking to each other. He wondered what had happened in the year he'd been away.

00000

Three Months Ago

Max had finally finished for the day; the cast had been chosen for the next play and he could finally go home. He'd had a headache brewing since early that morning but it was now a full on migraine. Between all the classes, teachers, homework, and drama he was more than a little exhausted.

The boy walked down the semi-darkened second floor hallway. His trainers squeaked on the newly mopped floors and the strong lemony scent of the cleaner reached his nostrils. He vaguely wondered if the old man had been using that same cleaner since he'd begun working here. Every Friday at 5:30 the man would sweep and then mop. The entire school was done by the time he finished late at night. But he always started in the South Wing.

Max passed the bathrooms as he made his way to his locker. It was November now, and the nights were long. The sun had already disappeared and the slightly darkened hallway was creepy with its long shadows and hidden corners. He walked quickly past the boy's restroom. He never lingered by that door. They said it was haunted these days. Not that he believed such things, really. Ghosts were only real in Shakespeare stories and those stupid horror films that Tom Harris always watched.

He was soon at his locker. He stopped suddenly, not sure what to do. There taped to his locker was a folded piece of red paper. He had only seen red paper in construction paper packets but when he stepped up to feel it, it felt fine, cloth like even. Parchment, his mind told him. It was parchment paper. Wasn't that stuff expensive?

Carefully peeling the paper away from the locker door he unfolded it and read it. His blood froze and his heart stopped. At least that was what it felt like. He had never felt stark terror before but he was pretty sure that this was what it felt like.

I know what you did. And I'm going to tell.

The message wasn't signed. The writing wasn't even handwriting. It was typed with that special font that was meant to look like handwriting. Max didn't know who would leave such a message.

Squeeeak.

He turned sharply at the sound of the squeak. It was the same sound his trainers had made on the freshly cleaned floor as he walked to his locker. He looked back down the shadowy hallway but there was no one there. Just shadows and his own paranoia. Forgetting what he had gone down there for, he put the red parchment paper in his pocket and ran back towards the main doors. He didn't slow down until he was halfway down the block.

00000

Two Months Ago

"Ryan," Sara whined and the blond gritted his teeth in an effort not to snap her head off. "Why won't you come out with me this Saturday?"

"I already told you," he said as neutrally as he could. He wasn't sure if he could explain it anymore than he already had. Maybe if he used extra small words. He mentally winced at how cold that sounded. He liked Sara, he really did, but the girl was annoying him to no end lately. He used the excuse of opening up his locker to put his back to her.

"Well fine," she huffed. "But I'm not missing the biggest party of the year because you want to be some little shutterbug." He rolled his eyes as she stomped away and continued twisting the lock to the right numbers. Sometimes he wished he'd never become popular. He was unprepared for how much work it was. He sometimes missed watching Tom's terrible horror movies and hiding Max's stuff from him. He remembered when they'd once tried to do that with Alex. Not only had they failed but they'd all ended up with something going missing. He never had found those missing socks.

The lock clicked free and Ryan yanked the door open. He paused when he saw a folded piece of red paper on top of his Chemistry book. It was folded in half and propped up so that it stood on its own. It clearly hadn't been slipped through the grill of his locker which made him scowl. He gave his locker combination to no one. Not even to Sara. He paused when he realized he'd seen that kind of paper before.

In English, Max had been clutching at a red piece of paper for about month now. By the way the kid had been looking at it, it had scared the shit out of him. Not that that wasn't easy to do.

Curious, Ryan picked it up and opened it. As he read his fingers went numb and he dropped the bottle of soda he'd been holding. He hadn't capped it and when it hit the floor it spilled everywhere, soaking the hem of his jeans and getting on his brand new trainers. He paid it no mind. He couldn't seem to move and his breath caught in his chest.

Does Sara know what you did? Why don't I tell her?

The script wasn't real handwriting, he noted. The note wasn't signed and the paper felt strange, like it was parchment or some sort of other fancy paper. Logically he knew that this person could be talking about any number of things. But the person who had left this note had probably left something with Max as well. It was the same paper, he was sure of it. Besides, what if they were talking about what he thought they were talking about?

Ryan turned his head to see Max just down the hall at his own locker. The bulky, drama nerd looked stressed and more than a little worried. Ryan knew how easy it was to freak Max out and if the other boy had received something similar it would explain his sudden jumpiness. Not that Ryan paid much attention to Max anymore. They didn't travel in same circles.

He looked back at the note. It was vague. Everyone knew Max was a scaredy cat and everyone knew he and Max had once been friends. It was a joke; a really crappy practical joke. Ryan folded the note back up and tore it to pieces. He slammed the locker door shut just as the first bell rang and made his way to English class. He dumped the remains of the note in the trash can of the boy's restroom.

Now, how was he going to get Sara off his back about that Saturday?

00000

One Month Ago

The showers of the boy's locker room had one setting. Cold drizzle. It made for a miserable shower in the dead of winter. Tom didn't care that he was sweating and hot from that practice. A hot shower was a necessity and a God given right. Not that Brookland ever cared about God given rights. He soaped up and rinsed as quickly as he could, drying off and then crouching under the hand dryer in order to warm himself back up.

The team laughed at the sight of him but he didn't care. It was warm and he knew they'd be doing the same thing once they got their showers. How he despised Brookland's cheapness. How hard was it to pipe in hot water at a semi normal pressure? Geez.

"At least you have the towel this time Harris," Josh Hankin yelled as he walked past Tom to his bag. Tom gave him a lopsided grin at the remark.

"It's not my fault my junk got cold," he shouted back over the noise of the loud air. It cut off just then and he slammed his hand back down on the button to turn it back on. "I had to save them!"

"Whatever, Mr. Action Man." Hankin rolled his eyes and started dressing. Tom stood under the dryer, letting the hot air hit his back for a long while. It felt good and his eyes started to droop. When he realized that he was nearly the last one in the locker room he finally straightened out went to his gym bag to redress.

The room grew quiet as the second stringers left, the door slamming behind them just as Tom snapped his blue jeans. He sat on the scratched wooden bench to pull on his boots when he heard the showers come back on. His head snapped up and his eyebrows crinkled. He'd thought he was the last one in here. As captain he was supposed to lock up the locker room and equipment. Brookland didn't think it necessary to get an equipment manager when they already had him. He quickly pulled on his other boot and tied the laces before standing up to investigate and hurry the other guy up. He reached the bank of showers and paused.

The showers were set up as individual stalls facing each other over a narrow aisle with five on each side and ending in a dead end. A thin, sheer white curtain-now yellowed-attempted to cover the entrance of each stall. The walls of each stall went from the ceiling to the floor so there was no way for him to glance under to see which was being used. By the sounds of the water, there were at least two showers going.

"Hello?" he called out as he began moving down the aisle looking for closed curtains. There was no uniform piled on the floor like he knew there should have been which only made him more confused.

"Hey! You need to hurry up or I'm gonna lock you in here!" There was no response. He came to the first stream of water he was hearing. The curtain was open and the shower stall was empty. He reached in and turned off the water. He went forward until he found the next empty stall of running water. He turned that one off too. He was starting to think he'd have to talk to the team about conserving water.

He came to the end of the aisle and heard water coming from the last shower on his right. This curtain was closed and he hesitated, not wanting to just fling it open on some unsuspecting person.

"Hey," he called out again. "Is anybody in there?" He heard no answer and again there was no uniform in front of the stall. He reached out and pulled the curtain aside. The stall was empty. He shook his head at his teammates and shut off the shower. The room fell silent again and he shook his hand to get rid of the drops of water that had landed there.

BANG!

Tom jumped and whirled around at the sound of a locker door slamming shut.

"Who's there?" he called out, seriously tired of not being answered. He knew there was somebody in here with him. There had to be. Locker doors didn't just slam on their own. He started to walk to the end of the shower bank when he suddenly found himself in pitch black.

"HEY!" he shouted angrily, at the end of his patience. Those lights weren't on a timer. Somebody had shut them off and it hadn't been him. "Turn those lights back on!"

He still got no answer but he heard the faint squeak of the locker room door open and saw the light from the gym outside spill onto the floor in front of him. In the middle of that light was a shadow but it quickly disappeared and the door shut again, leaving him once again in the dark. Tom felt his way along the rest of the shower bank, feeling the shower curtains until he finally touched solid brick. He followed that towards where he knew the light switch was. He knew this locker room better than anyone and navigating it in pitch black wasn't a big deal. He found the switch and turned the lights back on.

As soon as his eyes readjusted he looked over his shoulder but found no one. Cursing under his breath at his speeding heart, he walked back to where he'd left his bag. He paused when he saw the folded red paper on top. He looked back over his shoulder as if expecting to find whoever had left it there smiling at him over their well executed prank. He had to admit it had freaked him out and he didn't scare easily.

Shaking his head again, he stepped over and snatched up the paper, pausing only to note the strange texture. It wasn't like normal paper and he'd never felt anything like it before. He opened it.

I know what you're hiding. I know everything.

The short, unsigned message did more to freak him out than the last five minutes ever could have. This hadn't been there when he'd left his bag to investigate the showers. That shadow. Whoever that shadow belonged to had left this here as well. Tom spun and looked wildly around the locker room as if he could find that person. Not that he knew what he'd do but at least he'd know who they were.

Feeling more than a little panicked, Tom spun and crouched at his gym bag, quickly throwing all of his gear inside haphazardly. He stood and shouldered the bag, stuffing the note into his pocket. Leaving the locker room faster than he ever had before, he turned off the lights and locked the door with the spare key he kept on his key chain. The one Alex had gotten him when they were seven. The Cookie Monster one.

He didn't bother to check that the equipment was all there. He just locked the room and left the school as quickly as he could. He didn't calm down until he was in his own room and the note was through the shredder.

00000

One Week Ago

Max had noticed both Tom and Ryan giving him looks for awhile now. He wondered why. It wasn't like the three of them had any reason to communicate with each other. He missed them of course, they'd always had fun together but they weren't friends anymore. They couldn't even talk to each other normally.

He felt Tom's stare from the back of the room and he felt Ryan's stare from his right. Max shifted, uncomfortable from the weight of those stares. He didn't like the way they felt. His stomach clenched on him and he felt his breakfast try to come up. He raised his hand to get the teacher's attention but the moment she looked at him, he couldn't even open his mouth. He got up quickly from his seat and darted out of the classroom.

"Mr. Torren!" he heard the woman exclaim but he didn't stop. He made it to the nearest bathroom and into the stall before the toast pushed its way up and out. He'd never been very good with stress or stares. It was why he was only the stage manager and not on the stage. Stares. He hated them.

He flushed the toilet without looking inside and sat back against the wall. He heard the crinkle of the red paper in his pocket. It had been in there for nearly four months now and he'd done nothing but fret about it. He'd considered getting rid of it but for some reason he couldn't. Who had sent it? Who knew? One of the other guys? But that didn't make much sense. Why would they want to tell? They wouldn't; that was stupid. It was someone else. It had to be. But who?

Max wiped at the tears in his eyes as he heard the door to the bathroom open. He hadn't shut the door to the stall and he probably looked pathetic with his tall, thick frame crouched on the floor like some small child. He was such an idiot to let something like this get to him. For all he knew the note was a practical joke.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he became aware that the person who'd entered was just standing there. He saw his shoes first but he'd know them anywhere. Black, blue, and green Nike 2.0 high tops, probably from the store in the plaza that bought low and sold ridiculously high. Max's eyes slowly moved up the other boy's thin but toned frame before resting on his blank face. The larger boy took in the expensive jeans and the designer shirt that Max wouldn't have paid more than five pounds for but probably cost ten times that. Ryan always had been a snob.

"What's wrong with you?" Ryan asked, his tone all but unreadable to Max.

"Nothing," he mumbled, looking away. Not that it did any good. He could practically feel Ryan smirking at him.

"Lair," Ryan sneered. "You've been clutching onto that red paper like a lifeline for months now." Max's head shot up in shock at that. Since when did Ryan notice anything about him, or anyone else for that matter?

"You know?" he asked quietly.

"Duh, you big oaf," Ryan replied. "You didn't think you were the only one to get one of those stupid papers did you?"

"So you guys got one too?" a new voice asked. Max couldn't see around the wall of his stall to the doorway but he knew that voice well enough. It was Tom.

"Yeah we got one too," Ryan told the other boy as he joined them. The blonde crossed his arms and looked back down to Max on the floor. "Mr. Sensitive here even made himself sick over it."

"Ryan, leave him alone," Tom said and moved forward to offer Max a hand up. The larger boy took it but did his best not to tip Tom over with his weight. Ryan rolled his eyes.

"So what do you think Tom?" he asked. "Legit?"

"Probably," Tom replied. "It wasn't one of us."

"What about Alex?" Ryan asked and Max heard the faint sound of bitterness in his voice. Ryan had been really nasty to Alex since he'd come back nearly a year ago. It was like he'd made it his life mission to make the other boy as miserable as possible. Max knew that Ryan could be harsh in the best of times and evil in the worst but even he had been surprised by some of the things Ryan had said. They hadn't been nice at all.

"Alex wouldn't do that," Tom defended and Max nodded.

"You're so sure?"

"Ryan," Max finally cut in. "Alex isn't like that. Besides, look at this." He pulled the note out of his pocket and handed it to the blond who opened it and read it with Tom reading just over his shoulder. "Alex wouldn't want to tell any more than we would."

"Whatever," Ryan replied and crumpled the note in his fist. He moved quickly into the stall next to the one Max was still standing in.

"Hey!" Max cried out and moved quickly around the small barrier between them just in time to see Ryan throw the red paper into the toilet. "What are you doing!"

"Getting rid of it," the blond replied as he flushed. When he turned back around he looked Max square in the eye. "You're gonna kill yourself before we figure this out if you keep it." Max looked at him blankly for a moment, as did Tom. Ryan shook his head slightly as if to rid himself of a gnat and then continued speaking, "And don't tell anyone about this." He moved out of the stall and as he passed Max he patted him twice on his stomach. "And lay off the crisps; you look like a gorilla."

Max was too surprised to say anything to that. Tom seemed to be too surprised as well, as he just watched the other boy leave the bathroom without saying anything. He looked back at Max once the door had closed.

"Don't listen to him Max," Tom said kindly. Max gave him a weak smile at the attempt but changed the subject quickly.

"Do you think Alex has gotten one of those notes?" he asked. Tom sighed and looked away for a brief moment, as if hurriedly collecting his thoughts.

"It's possible," Tom replied looking back at the larger boy. "With Al anything is possible. I'll see you later Max. Feel better." With that Tom just left and Max heard the bell for the next period. He still had to go back and get his abandoned things from the English classroom and they'd want him to see the nurse too. But he didn't have the energy to move and just leaned against the wall.

Max knew that Tom knew where Alex had been when he'd been all but missing for that one year. Ever since Alex had been back things had seemed to be going okay for him and he seemed to be doing much better than Max had ever seen after his Uncle died. Even with Ryan harping on him all the time Alex was being friendly with people again. But Alex only talked to Tom and Max was smart enough to know that the two of them were hiding something. Something only they knew. What it was Max had no idea but whatever it was had left Alex as a continuous absentee for a year.

What if Ryan was right and it was Alex leaving the notes? He knew enough to be the one behind it all. But that still sat wrong with Max. Alex just wasn't the sneaky type.

00000

Six Hours Ago

Alex contemplated the red piece of paper in his hand. It was an interesting twist to the mundane story his life had become. Of all the things to be blackmailed over, it had to be that. But at least it seemed to be some sort of civilian, perhaps even a fellow student. He didn't want to see a reappearance of super villains in his life. He'd just gotten rid of them after all.

I know. You'll pay.

A rather short message all things considered. Alex knew there was really only one thing the person could be talking about. He'd seen Max with a similar piece of paper. He must have gotten a message as well. And if he and Max were getting threatening messages from the same person there was only one thing it could be about. But if Max had gotten a message, what about Ryan and Tom? He hadn't seen either of them with this special red paper. But then both of them were more inclined to destroy it rather than hold onto it.

He huffed in annoyance and slid off his bed, ripping the note into tiny pieces and dumped the pieces into the trash can by his desk. He'd found the thing in his Biology book of all places. They'd had a fire drill that day. It hadn't been there before the drill but it had been there after. Someone had slipped it there after he had left. That much was obvious.

It was interesting, he figured, that he was being confronted for something that happened long before MI6. It was a fresh breath of air in a way. Despite the irony of it all, he did have a serious problem. Someone knew who wasn't supposed to. He wondered how he should bring this up with Tom because it did need to be brought up. If Tom had gotten one Alex needed to know. The same went for Max and Ryan. They could be in danger.

"Alex, dinner!" Jack yelled up the stairs and Alex sighed.

"Coming!" he shouted back. He'd figure it out later. He wasn't too worried about it really. He'd handled much worse before.

00000

Now

Kale Yenker dunked the mop back into the lemon cleaner and water mix in the mop bucket. He strained it and then set it down heavily on the floor with a plop! He hummed as he worked on the second floor tile in the South Wing. Lost in his thoughts he almost didn't notice the shadow. He froze and looked carefully through the door of the open classroom down the hall. He sighed and shook his head when he realized it was just the skeleton in the Year Nine biology classroom.

These halls could play tricks on your eyes this time of night. He knew that better than anybody. There were always strange little shadows, noises, and creaks. The building itself was old and tired much like himself. It also didn't help that he knew someone had murdered that poor boy right under his nose.

Pushing aside those morose thoughts he continued with the mopping. He wondered if he would have to clean the boy's bathroom on this floor. No one ever seemed to want to use it. It was never as dirty as any of the others and often times the old janitor just let it sit for another week. He guessed the students didn't want to go near the place after what had happened there. He had heard the rumors that kids thought it was haunted. He didn't believe such things himself though. He never had.

He put the mop back in the bucket once more but this time he left it there. He went to the door of the bathroom and swung it open.

"Szar," he mumbled under his breath. His eyes were glued to it. He couldn't tear them away.

His pride killed him.

It was written on the mirror above the sink. The one the boy had been drowned in. And in that sink was the home economics' male mannequin. It was positioned the same way the boy had been when Kale first found him. The head in the sink, the sink overflowing, and the hands still loosely gripping the sides from where he'd tried to push himself up and out. Even the hair of the mannequin was the same.

Black. Black as the moonless night.

Kale seemed to stare at it forever when he heard the faint squeak of a trainer on his newly mopped floor. He spun his head around in time to see a black, hooded figure descend the stairs at the far end of the hall. He didn't try to go after them. His leg was too bad and he'd never catch them. Not to mention that the only people who had known about how the body had been left was himself, the police, and the killer.

His blood ran cold and his heart beat terribly. The killer had never been caught. They were back. And Kale had just seen them.