Walking down the corridor to classes the next day was a whole new form of torture dreamt up by A, a fresh dish of mental sadism at its absolute finest. Friends, acquaintances and complete strangers suddenly seemed like new players in this twisted game of A's. Every smile was met with suspicion, every glance her way eliciting defensive paranoia. Was it them? Had they seen her? Were they the ones that had been watching? She kept her eyes swept down towards the ground, bag clutched tightly across her chest, her whole body coiled up like a tightly wound spring. She was inches from crying off school with the genuine excuse of a tension headache.
With no sleep the night before, an early swim practice that had been an absolute write-off, flunking a math test first thing and then a lunch where she'd barely been able to swallow a thing, she felt like a complete shell of a woman, a walking, talking, emotional train wreck. The others had tried to cheer her up, none of them mentioning that poisonous, odious text message, but it had hung over their conversation like a weighty axe about to drop down on her head and deal a fatal blow. That she'd managed to pretty much avoid Paige all day was a miracle in and of itself. She still had no idea of a) how the hell she was going to tell her and b) how the hell the tall, mousey-brown girl would take it. No well, she assumed. The longer she kept her at bay, the worse the dread and anticipation in the pit of her stomach grew, but so far she had utterly chickened out. It was taking everything she had to stop the scream of frustration that threatened to rise up and explode out of her throat. All it would take for her to monumentally lose the plot would be one small, inane thing. She pushed through the door to the chemistry lab and automatically turned on her heel. Mona.
"Somewhere else to be Miss Fields?"
She cursed internally but slowly reversed course back into the room. Anywhere but here next to that fucking chatterbox dumpling. "No."
"Then please close the door behind you."
Emily grimaced, trudging slowly towards her desk, slinging her bag onto the floor in no small amount of distemper. She could feel the smirk from Mona without even having to look her way. She planted herself on the lab stool with a heavy sigh of resignation. Mona opened her mouth to say something.
"Not a word," she ground out darkly, her eyes firmly on the grain of the wooden desk below, jaw twitching with irritation. Mona huffed but sensing the grim mood shimmering around her lab partner, she shut her mouth, never getting the chance to utter whatever grade-A, sly observation she'd no doubt been planning all day long.
The rest of the class followed as the rest of the day had done, a blurry haze of panicked thoughts and restless, mental tangents. She gave up even pretending to concentrate on her studios, instead her gaze falling time and time again on the small cloth pocket on her faded green backpack that held her cell phone and the incriminating evidence. How did A know she'd be there? To be fair, how did A know any of them would be anywhere at any particular point in time? Was A just one person, or an army of faceless psychopaths hell bent on destroying lives, no rhyme or reason or purpose? For three years now they'd been dangled on the end of this razor-sharp line, jerked in spasmodic movements at the whim of an unknown opponent, one who was always two, three, four steps ahead of them in this never-ending game of cat and mouse. It was bad enough that it was happening to her and her friends, but they were seasoned veterans of this campaign of terror. Paige? She hadn't got a clue. Emily had successfully managed to keep her out of it, for now at least. Until that damn text. Until that photo. That fucking photo! Now it could all come tumbling around her ears and flatten Paige in the process. Even if she managed to stop A in his or her tracks this time round, there was still the very distinct possibility that she'd need to come clean with Paige. Ugh. She shivered at the thought of that particular conversation.
"Psst!" Mona shoved an elbow rather too forcefully into her ribs, breaking through her train of thought with the subtly of a jack hammer.
Emily arched an eyebrow at her. The rest of the class was working silently away, everyone lost in quiet education. "Ow!" she hissed. "What the fuck, Mona?"
Mona arched an eyebrow right back at her. "Your bag," she said sweetly, her voice low but dripping in more than just a hint of venom at Emily's reaction. "You might want to check it."
Fuck! Her worst nightmare right now come true, the small pocket buzzed angrily, like an oversized wasp was trapped within the fabric. Keeping one eye on the teacher at the front of the room, Emily reached out with her long, toned leg, expertly hooking her foot in the loophole of the bag, bringing it smoothly up to meet her waiting hand. With her heart in her throat she fished for the phone, her hand seizing upon it and instantly stopping the damn vibration. Dropping the bag silently back down onto the floor, she bought the phone into her lap. She heard Mona's fingers tapping impatiently on the desk top next to her.
"Well?"
As she shot Mona a look that would have incinerated even the thickest of skins, the first smattering of luck that day fell her way as the final school bell rang out in all its glory. Without waiting to hear anything more from the small, curvy brunette, Emily sprang from her stool, whipping up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, then bursting from the room, phone firmly in hand. She pushed through the instant crowd that immediately filled the corridors, heading straight first to the nearest bathroom, plunging inside a vacant stall and slamming the door behind her.
Slumping down on the toilet, she held the small device in front of her for what seemed like an eternity, twisting it between her fingers, not daring to open it and further this mad misadventure. It could be anyone, she reasoned with herself, it could be absolutely anyone. She was just jumping to the first conclusion, the worst conclusion. It could be one of the girls, or her mother, it could even be Paige. Paige. For about the thousandth time that day she let out a deep exhale of air. There was only one way to find out. She squeezed her eyes shut for a split second, then flipped the cell phone open. Her stomach turned over violently.
"Sight is only one of the senses. Go home and wait for further instructions. Don't talk to anyone. I'm watching. A"
Fuck my life. Fuck my fucking life.