CHAPTER FOUR
761 Words
The whispers started before Amelia even stepped into the classroom.
“They’re here.”
“Look.”
“That’s the new girl.”
“The one who snuck out with Oliver.”
Amelia tightened her grip on her books and kept walking.
She refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her react.
Unfortunately, the rumors followed her anyway.
As she reached her locker, someone had stuck a pink sticky note across it.
HOMEWRECKER.
She stared at it for a moment before peeling it off.
“So… they’re starting already.”
Chloe stood beside her, frowning.
“Whoever did this needs to grow up.”
Amelia crumpled the note into a ball.
“I don’t even know Oliver.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It should.”
Chloe sighed.
“At St. Victoria’s, people believe what they want to believe.”
Across the courtyard…
Oliver sat alone on the bleachers, absentmindedly spinning a basketball on one finger.
Usually, his teammates crowded around him.
Today…
Every seat beside him was empty.
“Mind if I sit?”
Oliver looked up.
Liam Carter dropped onto the bench with two bottles of water.
“I heard congratulations are in order.”
Oliver groaned.
“Don’t start.”
“So you and the new girl?”
“There is no ‘me and the new girl.’”
Liam smirked.
“That’s not what the notice board says.”
Oliver tossed the basketball toward him.
“You know better than anyone that rumors spread faster than facts.”
Liam caught the ball with ease.
“Maybe.”
He paused.
“But you looked pretty determined when you ran into the East Wing with her.”
Oliver’s expression darkened.
“I wasn’t protecting myself.”
Liam frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Oliver stood.
“I have detention.”
Before Liam could ask another question, Oliver walked away.
The final bell rang.
Most students headed home.
Boarding students drifted toward the dormitories.
Amelia, however…
Headed straight to Room B12.
Detention.
She pushed open the classroom door.
Only one other person was there.
Oliver.
He looked up briefly before returning to the book on his desk.
Neither of them spoke.
Exactly five minutes later, Mrs. Whitmore entered carrying a stack of old library books.
“Good afternoon.”
She placed the books on the teacher’s desk.
“Since you two seem to enjoy wandering around after curfew, you can spend today’s detention organizing the archive room.”
Amelia frowned.
“The archive room?”
Mrs. Whitmore smiled.
“It’s in the basement.”
Oliver’s head snapped up.
“The basement?”
“Yes.”
“I thought it was closed.”
“It was.”
Mrs. Whitmore adjusted her glasses.
“We reopened it this morning.”
Oliver and Amelia exchanged a quick glance.
Something about his reaction made Amelia uneasy.
The archive room smelled of dust and old paper.
Tall shelves stretched from floor to ceiling.
Boxes of forgotten yearbooks lined the walls.
Mrs. Whitmore handed them a list.
“Arrange these in alphabetical order.”
Then she left.
The heavy door clicked shut behind her.
Amelia broke the silence first.
“Why did you look so nervous when she mentioned the basement?”
Oliver continued stacking books.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“No.”
“You were.”
He sighed.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Then stop asking.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
For the first time…
A tiny smile escaped Amelia.
She tried to hide it.
Oliver noticed anyway.
Hours passed.
The silence between them slowly became comfortable.
Until…
A dusty leather yearbook slipped from the highest shelf and landed at Amelia’s feet.
She bent down to pick it up.
The cover read:
ST. VICTORIA’S ACADEMY
Class of 2015
Curious, she opened it.
Halfway through the book…
Something fell onto the floor.
It wasn’t a photograph.
It was another note.
This one wasn’t addressed to her.
It read:
If you’re reading this… don’t trust the Head Boy.
Amelia frowned.
She slowly looked up.
Oliver was still arranging books, completely unaware.
Or…
Pretending to be.
Just then, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the entire basement went dark.
A loud metallic bang echoed from somewhere deep inside the archive.
Amelia’s heart jumped.
“Oliver…”
No answer.
“Oliver?”
Silence.
Then…
A whisper.
So close it felt like someone was standing right behind her.
“You’re looking in the wrong place.”
- Writer
