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The central hallway in Mayflower High used to be a place for laughter, chatter and gossip.
Now it was a place for ghosts.
Alice pushed through a pair of heavy doors, built to withstand a nuclear blast of kids breaking for the holidays.
The main entrance branched into a staircase either side and a long corridor between. Rows of blue steel lockers lined the hallway against each wall. Battered and bruised from decades of abuse.
The centerpiece of the entrance was the glass trophy case. Six-feet tall and circled by a low red rope. The school had packed in as many trophies as would fit. Mayflower didn't win a lot of trophies. That meant every single triumph was in there, including medals from the fifties.
Place of honor was a solid bronze football player holding up a ball in celebratio
