Chapter Five:

"Woooee!" Emma sighed loudly, wiping her forehead. "You shoulda seen them!"

I jabbed her in the side with my elbow.

"Well, looks like class is over!" I remarked stupidly. "Time to go off to period one! Oh, don't worry, someone will find these two sooner or later." Nobody moved. "Now, you worms! When you're late for class and the teacher asks you for an explanation, do you think they'll believe, 'Oh sorry, but I just came from Spanish and some people ran in and killed my teacher'?"

Emma snorted, but I at least succeeded in getting everybody moving.

"So, should we just leave them here?" I asked her.

"Yeah," Emma said, shrugging. "Some other shitty teacher can find them and have the vision burnt into their mind."

We joined Johnny at the door and made our way all the way back to the high school building, this time choosing to walk outside. Since that way was faster, we were some of the first people to arrive in history. I had been looking forward to this class – the teacher, Miss Theresa, was one of the teachers I despised most. I couldn't figure out why she was so extremely popular with most of the students.

She smirked at me when I looked at her, and I instantly felt my anger level rising. Emma saw me reflexively reach inside my jacket and grabbed my arm.

"Wait, Sam, not yet!"

"Let me go," I snarled. "I'm going to kill her."

"Not yet!" Emma protested. "Besides, I'm going to help you. I'm not very fond of Miss Theresa either. I want to wait until she pisses me off, or it's just not worth it."

There was nothing to do but admit defeat. Emma had a point.

We sat down at our desks in the back of the room. Tara, a good friend of ours, sat down with us soon after, right before the bell rang. Miss Theresa took her place at the front of the room and switched on the overhead.

"Take out your notebooks. You have a lot of notes to take today. You're behind all the other classes."

The class groaned simultaneously, and notebooks were pulled out. Miss Theresa laid a piece of paper on the overhead and the screen was suddenly filled with lines and lines of tiny cursive writing.

"The fuck?" I whispered. I looked over at Emma. She stared at the writing, her mouth open.

People in the room were whispering to each other, most likely about the insanity of what the teacher wanted us to do. Suddenly, the overhead switched off without warning.

"All right," Miss Theresa said heatedly, "clear your desks for a pop quiz."

"A pop quiz!"

"Yes, a pop quiz. Did you hear me stammer? If you had been quieter, this wouldn't have happened."

"Is this grade going to count?" someone asked.

"Of course," Miss Theresa said smugly. "It's your own faults, anyway."

I glanced at Emma. She smirked and nodded, and we rose to our feet together.

"Question one – what is the meaning of this!"

Half the class raised their hands.

"Miss Theresa, I don't get the question!" someone called out.

"She was talking to us, dingbat!" I yelled. Emma stared at me, puzzled.

"Dingbat…?"

I shrugged. "I read it somewhere!" Johnny groaned in back of me. "Anyway, as I was saying, Miss Theresa, the only reason people were talking is because what you wanted us to do was crazy! There was so much freaking writing, how could you not expect us to complain to our friends? So in a way, this is your fault, not ours. You want us to get a bad grade, don't you? We're under enough stress as it is!"

"Exactly!" Emma pointed an accusing finger. "You caused the noise! You should take the quiz!"

"I don't take quizzes!" Miss Theresa shouted. "I'm the teacher! And you two have just earned yourselves a detention!"

"Second time today," Emma said, shaking her head.

"We must be truly horrible people, right, Emma?" I shook my head also. "The student is always wrong, isn't she? We're just owned by you teachers, aren't we?"

Miss Theresa closed her book. "Girls, go stand in the hallway."

Emma grinned. "Where? Can you come and show us?"

Miss Theresa narrowed her eyes. "All right, go wait for me outside."

We went obediently, the gears turning in Emma's mind. She had an idea.

We waited next to the door. After Miss Theresa had finished administering the quiz, she came out to meet us.

"Okay, girls," she said nastily, her face reddened. "For your disrespect, I want you to go stand right over there, near the corner, where all the dust is."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Just go stand over there! I'll come back for you later!"

"No, you won't."

Miss Theresa began to fidget nervously. "What do you mean by that?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're going to die. That much should be obvious."

Miss Theresa grabbed onto the wall, seeking support. "You're just kids! Someone will find you out…do you really want to ruin your lives!"

"You've already done that much," I sneered. "Don't you teachers see what you're doing? With your pop quizzes and trying to give us bad grades, we…we are our grades! They're all anyone cares about! Our families care more about our grades than they care about us!"

Emma drew out her blade and held it threateningly near Miss Theresa's face. "So, how do you want to go?" She had a new energy in her, like it was something she had been keeping inside. "If you'd rather go by the blade, you can choose how. Of course, I'm sure there's some other way. We could go down to the kitchen and stuff you in the garbage disposal."

"Emma…no we couldn't."

Miss Theresa didn't answer; rather stood there, stammering. Slowly but surely I started to lose my patience.

"Choose a fucking way to die or I'll shove this fucking knife up your fucking ass!"

Miss Theresa seemed appalled by my outburst. Her anger, for a moment, allowed her to forget her fear.

"You can't talk to me like that! I'm sure your parents will be so proud of you when you get expelled!"

I glanced at Emma. "Now?"

"Now."

I let go before I let myself think. This world, after all, only existed in an artist's imagination. This was no time or place for second thoughts.

There was a loud slam. I felt a bit of blood spray onto my arms. But there was no scream. The students were still inside the room working on the quiz, asking their friends for answers. Johnny was watching them all, his hand quivering. I opened the door a crack and beckoned him outside.

"What is it now?"

I pointed to the body messily nailed to the wall. "What should we do now?"

"Just get your knives and leave her thee. You can figure it out for yourself." He rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "I'd rather not even be here, but I can't let either of you fuck this up. I know that since you're from somewhere…else, these people are still living where you come from. As long as you have some realistic 'fun' here, I'm hoping that gets all this out of your system. That's what you're here for."

I blinked. "I see. Well then, I guess now that we have this understanding, we can just move on and get this over with. The faster we do, the less you have to bother with us." I stalked back into the classroom, Emma behind me. A small gray squirrel was for some reason now perched on her shoulder.

Johnny watched me leave, a look on his face of what I hoped was sincere guilt.

"Ehem," I said, walking to the front of the classroom. "While Miss Theresa was ordering us around, she got a call and had to run home because of…personal business. She wanted me to tell you to just pass in your quizzes and go to your next class."

A loud cheer erupted. People ran for the door, carelessly tossing their papers to the ground. Emma picked one up and looked it over, shaking her head.

"Kathy's gonna fail this quiz," she muttered.

"Emma…" I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the classroom. "Come on. We have to go to the middle school building again."

We walked for a little while through the empty hallways, as the rest of our class had long ago run through. Miss Theresa's body was still lying there in the corner. It was amazing that no one had noticed it.

"I've been thinking," Emma said, "what about the people who aren't in any of our classes? Like…like Lizzy?"

"We'll work something out." I began to climb the almost endless staircases, and was soon panting.

"You'd think we'd be used to this by now," Emma said, gasping. "We've been doing it for four years."

The sixth graders stared at us as we walked by. Emma put a hand to her face and randomly began thrashing around in the hallway.

"Narnar…NARNAR!"

Half of the children jumped, while I laughed hysterically. A girl pushed past us, her books clutched to her chest.

"You two are like, such freaks. I don't understand how you can bear to continuously make fools of yourselves."

Bridget, close behind, snickered. She entered into the hallway, but the girl who had spoken continued climbing up to the third floor.

"Lizzy…"

"That was Lizzy?" Emma said.

"…Let's follow her."

Johnny glanced around. "You'll be late."

"Who cares?"

Emma shrugged. "She'd be in class by now. So we need someone to get her out of class." She grinned. "Oh, Nny…"

He looked at her with a suspicious side-glance. "What…?"

"You could tell her teacher that something bad happened to one of her family members, and you're from the national police, so…"

"That's immensely stupid."

"All the teachers here are stupid."

We clambered up the stairs and stopped at the first classroom. I tried to peek inside.

"I can't tell if she's in there. Nny, go ask the teacher if Lizzy is in there!" I pushed him into the classroom, which undoubtedly annoyed him.

Johnny stood in front, most of the students sneering and snickering. He cleared his throat. I couldn't tell if he was acting or genuinely nervous.

"Ehem, um…is someone named Lizzy in this classroom?"

"No!" someone blurted out. "She's in 3-5 right now!"

"Okay…thanks."

"3-5," I repeated when Johnny had rejoined us. "That means she's at the end of the hall. Let's go!"

We hurried over to the room, where Mr. Fletcher, having regained his consciousness, was handing out the usual late assignment sheets.

"Go ahead, Nny," I muttered. I was still a little angry with him from our earlier conversation, but I wasn't about to let him spoil my fun.

He marched in with his hands clasped behind his back.

"I believe…Lizzy is in this class?"

"Yes, she is." Mr. Fletcher nodded. "Lizzy, I think this man needs to talk to you."

Lizzy stood up and snobbishly marched out of the room.

"Oh, well, something horrible happened to your mother, and – wait, never mind! Samantha and Emma have something important to discuss with you."

Lizzy rolled her eyes, and then focused them on Emma and myself. "Oh, you two. What do you want now?"

Emma didn't make a move, so I stepped forward.

"Lizzy…do you consider yourself really good friends with Bridget?"

"Yeah. What's your point?"

"From what Samantha's told me," Emma began, "I can deduce that she doesn't like you as much as you like her."

"What do you mean?" Lizzy said suspiciously. "Jesus Christ, you fucking make it sound like I'm in love with her or something."

I put a hand on her shoulder, pretending to be comforting.

"Her locker is very close to mine, you know. I can sometimes…overhear things. Things like – 'I don't like Lizzy. I mean, when she laughs it makes you want to laugh too, but she tries to hard to be popular. It's annoying'."

Lizzy slid to the floor, tears welling up in her eyes. "You're lying. You have to be. Bridget wouldn't say that about me! She's…she's one of my best friends."

"Don't worry," I said quietly, "she'll be punished for her wrongdoings. And so will you. Wouldn't you like me to put you out of your misery right now, anyway?"

She looked at me, mascara running down her cheeks. "What?"

I thrust my blade into her skull.

"…Nothing." I turned back to Emma and Johnny. "Let's get to class now."

They nodded in agreement, and followed me down the hall.