Chapter Seven
You Spin Me Right Round

The Two Whales diner purported to serve the best burgers in Arcadia Bay, but Chloe had always chalked that up to lack of competition. To preserve the small town charm, the town council had a policy of rejecting any attempts by major fast food companies to open up franchises in the area. Rumor was the edict had come from the Prescotts, though no one quite knew why, as they themselves drove small businesses to bankruptcy on almost a monthly basis.

Still, she had to admit: the burgers were damn tasty.

Finishing off her meal with a fistful of fries and a long swig of her drink, Chloe stood and left a nice tip for Maritza, the waitress who was currently running the diner seeing how it was Joyce's day off. Her mom had taken advantage of that opportunity to convince step-crack to stay home for the day as well, and heavily hinted to Chloe that she ought to make herself scarce. As though she wanted to spend another minute in that place.

One would think that Joyce would be more eager to keep Chloe at home after the time she decided to live in a junkyard in response to when David had originally moved in, but maybe her mother really had dealt with enough of her shit for one lifetime.

She was out the door and on her way back to her truck when she spotted the RV. "Aw, fuck."

"You know, there used to be a time when you got excited to see me," said Frank, having somehow snuck up behind her. "No one else out here willing to deal to your punk ass."

Chloe rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh, turning slowly around to face him. "Not a good time, Frank."

"There never is a good time to have this conversation," he said. "You owe. Had more than enough time to pay it back."

She started backing away, further from the sidewalk. He kept pace with her, corralling her closer to the RV. "Look man, I don't have the money right now. But if you give me a few days…"

"Don't have the money, huh? That's cute." His scowl deepened. "Only problem is, a buddy of mine saw you and Rachel flashing serious cash at some dive bar out by the casino. Did you even spend the money I loaned you? Seems like a waste to go this long without even using it."

"Needed it for something that didn't pan out," she replied, clasping her hands together behind her back and peering over his shoulder, confirming that they were alone. "But I meant that I don't have it on me."

He shrugged. "Fair enough. You know, I've heard of that bar. Woman who owns it, you meet her?"

"Why do you care?"

"Just curious. I always knew you were crazy, but getting involved with Sam Black Elk? That's a whole new world of loco that you're not ready for."

"Yeah, I know about her grandpa, genius."

"But do you know about her?"

Chloe crossed her arms. "Should I?"

"If it's important, I guess Rachel will tell you before it's too late."

"Didn't expect you to be so concerned."

"I'm not. I just want my money."

"You'll get it, dude. I just need to grab it from Rachel."

Frank nodded. "You got until Thursday. I'll be here, same time. And… bring Rachel, too. Be nice to see her again."

"Can't promise anything, but I'll pass that along."

"Whatever. You can go now."

Without any parting words of her own, Chloe walked away, acting nonchalant just long enough to pull out of the parking lot, by which point her heart was thundering in her ears.


Rachel knocked softly on the already open door of the science lab, alerting the woman sitting at the desk at the front of the room to her presence. Ms. Grant raised her head and smiled.

"Rachel Amber," she said. "What a pleasant surprise."

Michelle Grant was one of the unsung heroes of Blackwell Academy, which had always been more focused on the Arts than Science. All the Prescott money went to drama, photography, and especially the Vortex Club. But even with the comparatively limited resources at her disposal, most students who passed through her classroom during their time at Blackwell left with, if nothing else, a more fervent desire to question everything around them.

Which was what had brought her back here even though she'd already passed this class.

"Hello, Ms. Grant. I was wondering if you had time to answer a science question."

"I always have time for science," she answered, capping the red marker she was using to grade the assignments as Rachel walked further into the lab. "But shouldn't you be attending your actual classes? I heard you sat in on Ms. Hoida's lecture this morning, even though you already passed her course with flying colors."

Rachel shrugged. "I only had one scheduled for today, and I already went. I'm not neglecting my studies, I promise."

"That's good. I'd hate for you to lose that perfect GPA of yours." She placed her forearms on the desk and leaned forward. "Now what's on your mind?"

"I was wondering what you can tell me about symbiosis." She rubbed her forehead. "Not like the textbook definition or anything, just your thoughts."

Ms. Grant pursed her lips, gripping the tips of the marker with both hands and tilting it back and forth. "Well, all I can really tell you is the textbook definition," she replied. "Symbiosis is when two or more life forms—usually ones inhabiting the same environment—evolve in a way that's mutually beneficial to both of them. Like birds that eat stray bits of meat from a crocodile's mouth, or when a clownfish builds its nest inside an anemone. If either disappeared, it would make the other's life more difficult."

"Is it…" She bit her lower lip and glanced to the side, running a hand through her hair. "Is it possible for something to have that kind of relationship with the environment itself? Not a specific creature, but an actual location? Like a spiritual connection?"

She blinked. "That's a tricky question. Everything in nature is connected to some degree. Every action ripples outward in a web of events too complicated for us to fully comprehend. A butterfly flapping its wings at one end of the world could cause a hurricane on the other."

"And a single spark can start a fire that burns the whole prairie," said Rachel. "I'm familiar with Chaos Theory. That's not what I'm asking."

"Then what are you asking?"

"What if all that probability was wrapped up in the fate of one person?" she elaborated. "Like, if they disappeared, everything else would suddenly get worse? Way worse."

Ms. Grant stared at her for a long time, before slowly moving her eyes down to her desk. "I don't really have a scientific answer for that," she said. "What's got you asking these sorts of questions anyway?"

She sighed. "Nothing. I was just… talking with Samuel earlier. I was hoping you could make sense of what he said."

"Ah, now I get it. Put whatever he said out of your mind. Samuel is in touch with nature, true, but I don't understand half of what comes out of his mouth." She smiled. "He sure can commune with squirrels though."

"It's fine. I have someone else I'm planning to ask. I was just hoping to go into that meeting more informed than I am."

"This someone else have a name?"

Rachel nodded. "Joseph Black Elk."

It was silent for several moments as Ms. Grant's eyes grew visibly wider, and she took a deep breath. "What on God's good earth are you planning to talk to a man like that for?"

Another shrug. "I figure if anybody can answer my questions, it's him."

"You may be right." Her head bobbed up and down almost imperceptibly as she processed that. "But you should consider what those answers might cost you. The Black Elks were cast out from their tribe more than a hundred years ago, right around the time Ezekiel Blackwell's expedition reached this land. Most of the stories I've heard say those two things are related."

Rachel squinted and reared her head back. "Didn't take you for a history buff."

"Oh, please. It's practically impossible not to find Arcadia Bay's history interesting. If I weren't already the science teacher, you can be sure I'd be teaching that."

"There's still time."

She only smirked.

"So the Black Elks were outcasts? Sam never told me that part."

Ms. Grant somehow managed to look more surprised than she already was. "You know Samantha Black Elk?"

Nodding, Rachel crossed her arms and stared out into the hall. "We went to summer camp together as kids, years before my family actually moved here. But we kept in touch. How else do you think I'd be able to arrange a meeting with her grandfather?"

"Knowing you? I can imagine almost anything."

"And what about you? How do you know so much about this?"

"Like I told you, local history is a passion of mine."

"I see." She stared at her for a few moments, arms still crossed, looking down at her through eyes half-lidded. "So how did they get exiled in the first place?"

"Nobody outside their family knows the whole story," Ms. Grant elaborated. "But while most of the various tribes in the area reached trade agreements with the settlers, the Black Elks wanted to drive them out. Something about Arcadia Bay being sacred land."

"That would explain a lot," she muttered, glancing to the side. "Do you at least know what they did?"

"Every account I've heard or read claims it involved some sort of ritual. Chanting, blood sacrifice, that sort of thing. Whether it was meant to bring about a curse or a blessing… well, that's where the story changes depending on who you ask."

She laughed. "Thought a scientist like yourself wouldn't believe in all that mystical crap."

"I believe the Black Elks took it seriously enough that they become a real threat," she replied. "Joseph, though… he took it to a whole new level. Turned it into a crusade, against the Prescott family especially. I really don't think you should be asking him anything." Ms. Grant shrugged. "But we both know I couldn't stop you if I tried."

Silence reigned for several moments as Rachel considered that. "Thank you, Ms. Grant. I actually didn't know a lot of that. It helped me."

"Happy to be of service. Drop by anytime."

"Will do."

With that, she walked out of the science lab and back into the hall.


Warm autumn light poured through the windows of the photography lab, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was nothing like the harsh, bright white glare of the Dark Room, something Max found especially sinister given that the same man oversaw them both. Fortunately, Mr. Jefferson wasn't present when she entered the room.

Brooke, Stella, and Alyssa had taken their seats, and Taylor sat next to Victoria as usual. Kate was curled up in her corner next to the window, and Max made a beeline for her.

"Hey, Kate."

She looked up, her eyes red and puffy, but otherwise dry. "Hey, Max."

"How are you today?"

"Better," she said. "Thanks for being there for me. You really helped me through a lot."

"Anytime, Kate. I'll always be here for you."

A smile formed on her face, which quickly faded as Kate's eyes fell behind her.

It was then Max noticed that Victoria had snuck up without her noticing. Her normally smug expression had been replaced by a look of somber regret, and Max moved slowly to the side as the other girl moved closer.

"Max, do you mind if I talk to Kate for a bit?"

She crossed her arms. "That depends."

Victoria sighed. "I swear, I'm not here to rub anything in her face. I'm done with all that."

Looking to Kate, Max made an inquisitive expression. Kate turned to Victoria.

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of Max."

"I guess that's fair. She already knows what this is about anyway." She turned to Kate directly. "I just wanted to let you know, I took down the video. And I made sure all my friends won't talk shit behind your back anymore. I'm… I'm sorry for doing that to you."

Staring at her, Kate took a moment to process that. "I… thanks, Victoria. That means a lot."

"What I did was messed up," she continued, her head hung low in shame. "I don't expect you to forgive me. That's all I came to say."

She turned around and started walking away, but Kate reached out and grabbed her hand. "Wait."

Victoria looked back over her shoulder.

"I do forgive you, Victoria. I believe in forgiveness. And redemption. It's good that you realized you did something wrong. That's the first step to making it right."

A smile slowly grew on Victoria's face, and Kate returned the gesture. "Thank you. I've never really given you a chance before." She looked at Max. "Either of you. Why don't we plan something together? So I can start making up for… all of this."

Max smiled as well. "That sounds great, Victoria. There's actually something I need to tell you. Both of you. But not here."

"Why not?"

Before she could answer, Mark Jefferson entered the room.

"Good afternoon class," he began, sliding into his 'cool teacher' routine. "Go ahead and find your seats please, and let's get started. How was everybody's weekend?"

He received a general murmur in response, as they began filing into their seats. It took every ounce of Max's willpower to maintain a neutral, vaguely interested expression that wouldn't set off his suspicions. She could still rewind if she tipped her hand, but just looking at him was a test of her endurance. She had witnessed his true self, and now it was impossible to see anything else.

"Today we're going to talk about candid photography," he said, leaning against a desk. "The art of framing subjects without posing them; capturing them in their natural element. Can anyone name the originator of this style?"

Victoria's hand shot up like a lightning bolt. "Dr. Erich Salomon. He did most of his work in Germany during the 20s and 30s."

"Very good, Victoria. Candid photography was made famous by artists such as Henri Cartier-Bresson and Arthur Fellig, who captured their subjects honestly, without pretense." A wry grin flashed over his face, a nauseatingly practiced gesture that still made most of the students swoon. "Of course, this has also led to another, less glamorous type of photographer: the paparazzi."

He paused to allow a few chuckles from the class. Max couldn't help but frown.

"There's a difference between standard candid photography, where the subject knows about the camera but isn't required to pose, and secret photography, in which the subject has no knowledge that they're being photographed, and certainly can't consent to such a thing. Naturally, there are laws against this."

"Didn't stop you," she blurted out, and he blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean, Max?"

'Shit!' She rewound to the end of his last sentence, and changed her response.

"It's not just photos anymore," she said, glancing at Kate. "Now people have to worry about being video-taped without their permission."

"Max makes a salient point," he said. "I'm sure you all shared a certain viral video amongst yourselves over the last week. Such a thing can be devastating to a person captured doing something they thought no one would see. It brings up a larger conversation regarding privacy and how consent matters when your image is captured, and how social media can blur that line. If someone is in public, can they expect their image to remain private? And if they do get dragged into the spotlight, does that ever really go away?"

He was staring straight at Victoria, who crossed her arms and curled into herself.

Stella raised her hand. "So if there are laws against having our picture taken without our consent, why have I seen Mr. Madsen going around photographing students? Is that even legal?"

"An excellent question, Stella. Surveillance is another gray area where what someone can or can't do with a camera becomes muddled. Now, I'm not in charge of what measures Mr. Madsen deems necessary to protect the students at Blackwell, but given that Ms. Grant's petition prevented cameras from being installed all over campus, I'd say your voices do make a difference."

'Yeah, you care so much about our safety,' she thought, careful to keep it to the inside voice this time. 'God, I wanna puke.'

"These are all questions you should ask yourselves," Jefferson continued, "as you think about what kind of photographers you want to be. Is there more honesty in capturing your subject in the moment, without any setup? Or does posing offer a more intimate insight into someone, a way for them to show you who they truly are? When they don't have to guard themselves as carefully as they do in every other waking moment?"

He let the question sink in, while Max considered how best to bash his skull in with a tripod. How many times could she rewind that before her head started spinning?

"Remember, just like there are a multitude of angles to choose from, we present different facets of ourselves in response to the world around us. How you act around your teachers is different from how you behave around your fellow students, and I doubt you talk to your best friend the same way you would your grandmother. As a photographer, how do you know which one is real? And how will you capture it?"

Max reclined back in her seat. 'Kill me now.'

"Which one do you prefer?" asked Victoria, having clawed her way out of her pity party. "Do you like capturing your subjects in the moment, or would you rather give them time to present the version of themselves that they want you to see?"

He only smiled, and Max couldn't hide her grimace.

"There's always a middle ground," he replied. "And a good photographer has ways of finding the person underneath, the one the subject tries to hide behind everything they think they know about themselves. I'm sure that with time, you'll develop the same skill."

Unable to bear it any longer, Max slammed her hands down on her desk. "How do you do it?"

He stared back at her with a careful, practiced curiosity. "How do I do what, Max?"

"How do you come to class and act like everything's normal, when really you don't even see us as people? Just subjects."

"I'm not sure what you mean," he replied, off balance. "Are you concerned with my word choice? By this point you're obviously familiar with photography jargon."

"Cut the shit, Mr. Jefferson," she said. "I know who you are. The real you, the one you try to hide behind those hipster glasses and cool teacher attitude. I know about the Dark Room."

That got him to widen his eyes, but only for a moment before he caught himself. "Well of course, Max. I need somewhere to develop my photos."

"I'm sure."

Victoria arched an eyebrow at her. "Max, what are you talking about?"

She chuckled darkly. "Nothing."

She raised her arm, and time moved backwards once more, until it was like nothing ever happened. It felt good to make him sweat; to make him scramble to find the words to keep everyone else clueless. It felt good to say what she really thought. Even if no one would remember it but her.

A sudden warmth trickled slowly down her nostrils, and she raised a finger to wipe away the blood. When she looked up again, Jefferson was right in front of her, and she wasn't in his classroom anymore. He raised his camera and grinned like the devil.

"Smile for the camera, Max. And don't worry. There's plenty of space in the Dark Room for all of you."

He disappeared, and she found herself outside, in the woods. Rain pelted hard against her face, and she raised an arm in front of her eyes to block out the wind. Lightning streaked across the sky, and a low rumble rolled over the landscape like a fast approaching pressure wave. Turning in the direction of the flash, she saw a number of buildings, built into a woodland clearing.

There was a dirt road not far from where she was standing, leading to a gate in the wall that surrounded the complex. Above the gate, in large bronze letters, there was a name emblazoned on the stone: Pan Estates.

Over the horizon, the storm began to funnel down to the ground, taking a familiar shape. Max recoiled back, slipping to the ground.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, NO! I stopped it! This shouldn't be happening!"

She heard laughter beside her, and looked up into her own face, which bore a twisted grin. The figure's eyes went black, and dark shadows emerged from them like a fountain, transforming into ravens that scattered in every direction, before the whole world grew dark again.

She screamed, and the classroom reasserted itself around her. Jefferson was still leaning against the desk, and the whole class was staring at her.

"Are you okay, Max?" asked Kate.

Victoria squinted at her, concerned. "Yeah, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine!" she said too quickly. "I just need to go see the nurse."

Without even asking Jefferson's permission, she bolted from her seat, threw open the door and ran into the hall.