Chapter 3: Phoebe's POV

The FBI was in Vegas.

That thought was the only thing on Phoebe's mind as she walked through the maze like hallways of Las Vegas College Prep Academy. That meant that the police had no leads, that they had no idea who the killer was. That meant she was in even more danger than she thought. But her next class left no room for personal thoughts, as Mrs. Courtney hated her.

"Ready to learn today, Ms. McLean?" asked Mrs. Courtney with a pointed look. Last class, Phoebe had been distracted because last class, Astra's body had just been found. Mrs. Courtney didn't care about any of that though, she thought her class was the most important one, and that her assignments were more important than any other assignment.

In short, she was a bitch.

But Phoebe couldn't say that to her face, so she just smiled at the woman before sitting down at her seat, right in the front of the room. She pulled out her notebook- red for history- as well as the homework due that class. At least Mrs. Courtney planned her lessons ahead, so Phoebe knew that today they would be talking about the Election of 1800. So she titled her notes with that, and waited for class to begin.

"Good afternoon class. Today we will be talking about the election of 1800," she said in a shrill voice. The bell hadn't rung yet, but Mrs. Courtney didn't care. She lectured on about Aaron Burr, and how Hamilton's approval of Jefferson was one of the reasons he succeeded. The lecture went on for what felt like hours until the bell finally rang. The homework was a 3 page essay on the importance of the Election of 1800 on modern day politics, but before she could start on it she had one more class: English. English wasn't the worst class, but it was far from the best. Mr. Smith usually just put an essay prompt on the board and sat at his desk, waiting for students to write it. That meant that she was able to work alone, but it also meant that she had to write essays.

She walked into the sparsely decorated classroom and sat at her desk. Sure enough, there was an essay prompt on the board: Are security cameras in public places an invasion of privacy?

Deciding to qualify the prompt, Phoebe agreed but argued that they were necessary for public safety. And after three pages of it, she stopped and turned in her essay. But before she could get started on her homework, the final bell rang.

Deciding to forego her usual after school piano playing, Phoebe packed her bag and walked out of the school, sticking to the main roads on her way to the coffeeshop she frequented, The Daily Buzz. The cafe was decorated in earth tones, and had cushy armchairs and sofas in a mishmash of designs, all acquired from the local thrift stores. The best part about it was the keyboard in the corner, which the owner let her play sometimes. She walked up to the counter, and behind it was the owner's daughter: Caroline Adams. She was short, with striking blue eyes and pink hair.

"I like your hair" Phoebe said, smiling at the girl.

"Thanks Phoebe! The usual for today?" She responded brightly. Caroline was a year older than Phoebe, but went to a private high school, so she and Phoebe weren't classmates. Sadly.

"Definitely! A lot of homework for today" she said, giving the girl an awkward smile while tucking her hair behind her ear.

"It's on the house today, thanks for helping out last night. I'll bring it to your table!" said Caroline. Phoebe shot her a smile before settling down in an armchair in a corner next to a table, and pulling out her notebooks. First to do was history, and once she got started she didn't stop, barely noticing Caroline setting down the coffee, or it growing cold next to her. Eventually, she finished the essay, and set it aside, picking up her coffee and taking a sip. Caroline had fixed her coffee for her, and once she realized that she shot the girl a smile. She was sweet. She quickly began her chemistry homework, finishing the questions in only a few minutes. Then, she turned her thoughts to the visit from Agent Reid earlier that day. Was she a suspect? Agent Reid handing her his business card seemed to suggest otherwise, but she couldn't discount the possibility. Either way, it was nice of him to give her a way to contact him, and she put his number in her phone. There were only 3 numbers in there, anyway, so she put it on speed dial. The only other people she could call were her grandmother, 911, and Ethan. She missed Ethan, but she never called him. Grandmother wouldn't be happy, and he was probably busy playing for another jazz club. He probably didn't care about her anymore, no one did. She was the outcast, too smart, too poor. She wasn't even normal personality wise, she barely made friends anymore and at this point 75% of the people she was friendly with were dead. Only Caroline was alive.

At least Caroline didn't fit the MO of the killer. All of the victims- Katie, Gwen, and Astra- had dark hair, dark eyes, and glasses. So did Phoebe. But Caroline didn't, Caroline was safe, her friend would be fine, even if Phoebe wasn't.

Sitting in the corner of the cafe in an armchair, a girl was crying. She didn't know it. She was breathing fast, shaking, mouth open in silent terror. She didn't notice. The only one that did was Caroline, and her heart wept for the small girl sitting in an armchair.