A/N: Now with 64% more DRAMA! XD Next episode, the girls get proactive! Well, okay, they do start with this chapter, I guess... But MORE DRAMA! XD
Thanks again to my beta Biskuits, who keeps me honest! ~Kryss
Chapter Six: Weight of the World
Kir woke up to find herself alone. A glance at her Mom's travel clock showed that she had overslept; she'd have to hurry to get any breakfast at all. She muttered imprecations against Megan and Triffy for just leaving her there to starve as she hurriedly dressed and dashed through the stupid rain to the hall.
Jesus! If she wasn't very lucky she'd have missed the beginning of the bloody lessons, as well. She'd be lucky to get anything before lunch. She was probably going to starve to death. How long does it take to starve, anyways? She wondered as she hauled the door open. Probably not very long, if the uncomfortable feeling in her tummy was any indication.
Every face swiveled to face her as she hurried in. Every pale, tear-stained face. Oh, Jesus, thought Kir, Something's wrong. Again.
I'm never going to get breakfast.
Blushing furiously at the attention, she scurried over to scoot in next to Randy and the rest. "What happened?" she whispered. They looked as freaked as everyone else.
"There's been another death," Randy whispered back. A girl at the next table shushed them.
"As I was saying," Janet said, up on the little dais, "I know it's hard to lose a friend. I know some of you have known each other for years, and some of you stay in touch in your regular lives. Losing a friend, someone who's part of your lives, is always hard, especially at your ages. But there are alternatives. Talk to someone. Come and talk to me, even if it's the middle of the night. My door is always open. Just knock, and we'll talk, no matter how late it is. All right?" She paused for a moment, her smile looking a bit forced. "Are there any questions?"
Kir thought about raising her hand, but a sideways glance showed Randy shaking her head slightly at her. She kept her hand lowered.
She took the first opportunity she could, though (after begging a bowl of cereal off of Mrs. McKay) to ask them quietly, "What happened? What's going on?"
"It's Triffy," Randy answered, while Sarah looked at the table and Su looked away. "They found her this morning."
"Found her?" Kir couldn't stop asking, though she dreaded the answer.
"Yeah. Just… just like Melanie. Same M.O. and everything."
"This is stupid," muttered Su. "Megan just ragged on Melanie too much and she snapped, and then Triffy just got really depressed about it and she snapped. That's all. It's just a bunch of stupid girls getting all angsty about nothing."
"Look," began Randy, looking angry, "You saw Melanie the same as us. There's no way—"
"It's not murder!" A couple of others nearby turned to look and Su lowered her voice, but she was obviously still mad. "It's not murder, okay? Just because you can't explain how she did it, doesn't mean that anyone else did anything."
"Look," Kir whispered nervously, "Perhaps we should, like, tell Janet what we think."
"What Randy thinks," Su muttered crossly.
"Whatever. I mean, if someone else is involved, or even might be involved, then shouldn't we tell them?"
"The problem is," Randy sighed, "We don't have any idea who. All we know is that they couldn't have done it to themselves."
"Says you."
"That's not all we know," Sarah said quietly.
The others looked at her for a moment. "Um, what do you-?"
"What I mean is," Sarah interrupted, still looking at the table, "We all know what started all this."
"We do?"
"Yeah. We do." Sarah finally looked at them. "Look, none of us much liked Melanie or Triffy, but just because they thought they were better singers than they were, and that ALW is a genius, doesn't make them suicidal. I mean, like, none of us are suicidal here, right?"
"How can you tell?" Su crossed her arms.
"I can tell," Sarah said. "My cousin killed herself last year. No one here is talking about killing themselves, even joking; no one here is talking about what happens after you die, or if it hurts, or what it would be like to be dead; no one here is even crying and really depressed or anything." She glanced around for a moment, and then added, "Well, not before all this, anyways."
"So?"
"So they weren't suicidal. I'm positive. And everything was just fine until… Until the other night."
"What other night?" asked Su impatiently.
Sarah wordlessly pulled her collar open a little further. The sigil from the other night was still there, but in pen. She tugged her collar straight again and looked at them.
"So, what," said Su finally, "You think that this is all about that stupid bit of magic they were trying to do? Are you insane?"
"Everything was fine until then," Sarah said quietly.
"Yeah. You know what? You are insane. This is nuts. I can't believe I'm even listening to this." Su stood up. "I'm gonna go practice. My parents paid good money for me to come here and sing, dammit, not pretend to be Scooby Doo!"
Kir looked at the table, not wanting to meet Su's eyes as she stalked away.
"Look," said Randy finally, "I don't know whether or not I believe in this supernatural stuff myself. But something is definitely going on. What do you guys figure we need to do?"
"Um, I guess we should tell someone."
"Tell them what, though?"
"We need to find out what they've summoned," Sarah said. "What we do then depends on that. You know, on what it is."
"Or who?"
"How do we do that, anyways?"
"Well, that part's harder," Sarah looked wry. "We need more clues. More info."
"Right, then," sighed Randy, "Scoobies on patrol!"
That evening Kir hooked up with Randy and Sarah in a corner of the hall over notebooks and hot chocolates. Su still refused to have anything to do with what she made quite obvious she thought was complete stupidity.
"Right, then," said Randy, taking notes, "What have we got?"
"Um…"
"Well…"
"Fine," sighed Randy. "Okay. One. We know he's a guy."
"How do we know that?" asked Kir.
"How do we know he's, you know, real?" asked Sarah.
"Well, Occam's Razor, guys. Jeez. The simplest explanation is that there's one person doing this, and that they're completely real. You know. Not supernatural. Just some guy."
"How do you know it's not something supernatural?"
"I don't. But without any evidence one way or other, I have to assume that the simplest explanation, that it's an actual living person doing this, is correct."
Sarah looked unhappy; Randy added, "Perhaps it is something supernatural; the timing would seem to indicate a link to the… the summoning or whatever. Have you got anything else?"
Sarah shook her head. "I couldn't get anywhere near the pit. They've barricaded it off."
"Barricaded? Really?" asked Kir. "Jesus."
"And you couldn't get past?"
"Well, no. They had signs on them."
"Signs? What signs?"
"You know. Like, 'Unauthorized Entry Prohibited.' That kind of thing."
"Wait," Randy seemed confused. "So you couldn't just go around them?"
"No, of course not. They had these, like, these railings or little tree trunks or whatever stretched right across the paths. Both of them. And they had these 'Do Not Cross' signs on them."
Randy sort of looked at Sarah sideways for a minute. "Okay, then," she said slowly. "Let me know if you come across anything.
"In the meantime, no further evidence to the contrary, we're assuming that we've got a single male running around out here."
"We are?"
"We are what?"
"Um, why are we assuming it's a single male?"
"Because it complicates things if it's a bunch of people, and because if it's only one person then it's gotta be a guy."
"Yeah, but why?" Kir's brow wrinkled.
Randy rolled her eyes. "You know a girl strong enough to hoist a dead teenage girl up by her neck? Huh? I sure don't."
"It could happen," said Kir. "Like, some girls who do weightlifting and stuff are pretty strong."
"Yeah, they are," agreed Randy, "But it's still more likely that we've just got an ordinary guy, not some super-chick. Besides, no one here works out. Not like that, anyways."
Kir subsided, but she still didn't agree a hundred percent.
"Prove me wrong, guys," Randy said cheerfully. "'The simplest explanation is the most likely to be true.' Doesn't mean that it is the truth, though. It just gives us a starting point. Anyone got anything else?"
"Um, well, they were both strangled… Right?"
"Yes! Good one, Kir. Damn it, it would have helped to have been able to examine the crime scene or the bodies, but…"
"Jesus, Randy," Su commented, wandering over, "Enjoying this much?"
"I like to use my brain, yeah," Randy retorted. "And it feels good to feel like we're doing something instead of just waiting for the next person to be bumped off. To me, anyways."
"Yeah, me too, I guess," Kir agreed.
"Me too."
"Right then. Anything else?"
"It always happens at night, right?" Sarah looked over at Kir. "I mean, you said Melanie went out at night that one time…"
"Yeah. And they found Triffy before breakfast, so I guess she did too, huh?" At Kir's nod and shrug she continued. "Great! Now we're getting somewhere."
"Yeah? Found the evil supernatural killer yet?" Su looked down at the huddled little group.
"No, not yet," said Randy. "You?"
Su sighed. "Naw. And I'm still not convinced that they were killed. You know. Murdered." She winced slightly at the word. "But if there is someone out there…"
Sarah scooted over a bit; after a moment Kir caught on and scooted too. Su sank between them and crossed her legs. "So. Whaddaya got?"
Randy grimaced. "Probably a guy. Probably acting alone. Probably not supernatural in origin, but we haven't ruled that out completely yet."
"Based on what?"
"Mainly the timing," Randy admitted. "Seems to prefer to work at night."
"Oh! Strangulation." Kir interjected.
"Right. Seems to prefer strangulation. Given, two incidents really aren't enough for any kind of decent statistical sample, but I don't think we really want to wait for more, do we? Right. So."
"So what does that add up to?" asked Su.
"Mmm. Mainly to not going out at night, I guess. For now. There's no guys within a hundred miles of here—"
"—That we know of."
"That we know of, right. Amended. But anyways, there isn't a guy in a hundred miles of here that we know of, so we have no suspects right now."
"Great."
"So I guess, for now, don't go out after dark."
"Don't go alone, either," said Kir, visions of Camp Crystal Lake dancing in her head.
"I think that's covered under 'don't go out'."
"Yeah, but, like, what if you have to use the can or what?"
"Well, then…"Randy smiled wryly. "'Don't go out alone, either'."
The Rationalists walked Kir back to her cabin, then left in a group. Megan was already in bed, head tucked under her pillow.
Kir got into her pajamas and bed herself, then reached to turn down the light. "Please don't," Megan said. "Leave it on, Kir, please?"
Kir thought about how hard it was to sleep with the lights on, but then she thought of lying in the dark with the two empty beds. "Yeah, sure," she said, withdrawing her hand and snuggling into the comfort of her sleeping bag.
Kir really didn't expect to sleep a wink that night, but much to her surprise, when she stuck her head out again, it was morning. Megan smiled weakly at her. She looked like crap. "What time is it?" Kir yawned.
"About seven, I guess."
"Did you get any sleep?" It sure didn't look like it. Her eyes were red and there were bags under her eyes.
"No."
Kir was silent for a moment, then smiled back. "Breakfast?"
"Yeah, I guess." For once, Megan didn't sound like a bag.
And for once, there weren't any missing faces. Kir almost relaxed.
"Hey," Megan said to her as they got their breakfast, "Do you, like, mind if I sit with you?"
"What?"
"Can I sit with you? You know, like, to eat? Only…" she sort of glanced at her usual spot. Her usual, empty spot.
"Oh. Yeah. I guess."
"Thanks."
The Rationalists looked less pleased to have her join them, but even if reluctantly, they shuffled over to make room when Kir made puppy dog eyes at them.
The table was slightly more subdued than usual with her there, though. In fact, most of the conversation was limited to things like, "Pass me the syrup, hey?" until Megan finally spoke up.
"You know, I just don't get why you guys are always like this."
"Like what?" Su asked.
"Like this. You know. I mean, you guys like music too. What's your problem?"
"Well," said Su slowly, "That sort of is the problem. We like music. Not crappy pablum wannabe crap."
"So you don't like me because I like Andrew Lloyd-Webber, is that it?" Megan sounded pissed.
"No…" Randy said, "It's not because you like his stuff. It's not even because you sing his stuff. It's because you think his stuff is good."
"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean, Randy? You like Phantom too!"
"Yes, I do. I like the book. And hell, I even like The Phantom of the Paradise. But I don't go around claiming that Brian de Palma is the greatest director of all time and that, like, Citizen Kane sucks because Brian didn't direct it and—God, why do I even bother. You're right. I hate you because you like ALW. Happy?" She got up, grabbed her empty dishes, and stalked off.
"Wow. What got into her?"
"I dunno." Su swigged milk. "Perhaps she just doesn't like ALW."
"You know what the worst part is?" Randy stomped back over again. "The worst part isn't that you think Gerard Butler's Phantom is hot. The worst part is that you think he's supposed to be hot!"
"Well, he is!"
"No, he's not! He's supposed to be an older guy who's spent his entire life crossing the freaking globe, not hiding out in the basement of an opera house that he actually helped to build during the Commune—"
"The what?"
"The Commune. When the Prussians besieged Paris? When the city, like, totally shut down for, like, nine months? You know? Right when that asshat Nipples McCrazy put the stupid movie… Weird that there's no siege going on in Paris right then in that, huh?"
"Whatever."
"No. Not 'whatever'. See? That's just it! That's it right there. I'm trying to tell you that the story you think is Phantom has, like, nothing to do with Leroux, and you just brush me off!
"That's 'cause you're treating me like an idiot!"
"That's because you're acting like an idiot!"
They paused for a moment, glaring at each other. Finally Randy growled, "The Phantom is, like, fifty years old, tall, skinny, and looks like a walking corpse. He smells of death. He's bat-shit crazy. He is not hot. He is not a Masterful Virgin sex god. He does not look like Zorro. And he's intensely attractive anyways. He has the voice of an angel. And I don't give a damn how good Gerard was 'considering', 'good, considering' is not the same thing as good! God."
"Well, I still like the movie and I still like Gerry and if you want the fugly bat-shit guy you go right ahead! You can have him and you can keep him!"
"I will!"
"Oh em gee, why am I even still here with you losers?" Megan got up.
"Because Kir invited you because she felt sorry for you," said Randy nastily.
"God, you're such a bitch," gasped Megan, and whirled and fled.
"Read the goddamned book, Phanbrat!" Randy shouted after her. "What?" she added as the rest stared at her.
"Wow, that really was, um, a bit strong…"
Su snorted. "Kir means that really was pretty bitchy, Randy."
"Well, goddammit all—"
"I understand how you feel," said Sarah quietly. "But you were a bit harsh."
Randy conceded with a gesture, although it looked grudging, thought Kir. "It's just that she drives me nuts," she said. "Her and all the other idiot Phanbrats. They just won't listen."
"Yeah, well, yelling at them probably isn't the best way to share the info," Su said, grinning a bit.
"Or beating them about the head with the book," added Sarah. "Even if it would make you feel better."
"Well, it might if it were a hardcover," Randy grinned back.
"Yeah, maybe," said Su. "Hasn't worked for our parents yet, though, has it?"
"Yeah, I guess not." Randy looked at the table. "I guess…" She sort of shrugged, looking depressed. "I mean, here we are, trying to figure out who murdered two people, her friends, and she's ragging on me because I don't like her enough? Because she can act like a total idiot and I'm supposed to be best friends forever because 'we both like Phantom?' Whatever."
"You could, um, maybe tell her that," said Kir hesitantly. "I mean, that we're sort of trying to help her out. Well, indirectly, I guess, but, you know… Trying to help her friends, anyways."
Randy sighed. "Yeah, I guess. I don't really want to talk to her right now, though."
A/N: Occam's Razor: A 14th Century hypothesis that states, basically, that all things being equal, the simplest explanation is the best. Next update might be as early as this weekend if you poke me enough! ;-) Reviews are very inspiring, hint, hint... ;-) ~Kryss