You're Next - Chapters 1-3
A thrilling serial novel of a teenage girl trying to discover who has kidnapped her friends, only to find that she's next on the list.
So, last week we gave you the prologue of our short thriller in which we met a few girls locked in a basement. This week, you can read chapters 1 - 3 of the story, in which we meet out main character, Emily, and follow her as she gets the scare of her life.
Read the Prologue HERE.
As we previously stated, we will be putting out new chapters every Friday until this story is done. The entire story will be available for free to all our subscribers. So you don’t have to worry about missing anything.
Enjoy!
CHAPTER 1
“I wish you’d have let me speak to the principal.”
Emily grabbed her bookbag from the back seat of the car and smiled at her mom. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Honest.”
She shivered despite the warm air blasting from the heaters. It was one of those gloomy, drizzly mornings, when the sun wouldn’t make an appearance and the lights would stay on all day in place of daylight.
Three days ago, Emily’s best friend Jordan was the latest girl to be reported missing. Five girls from Rowanbank High School had gone missing over the past couple of months, all from Emily’s year, all girls that she had known since the day they started school. It felt like a reality show where people get voted out of the house by the public and the numbers start to dwindle, the rooms seeming larger, emptier, more silent.
Only this was real life.
Her mom squeezed her hand as Emily reached for the door handle. “I’ll pick you up after school.”
Emily smiled. If giving her a ride to and from school made her mom feel better, then she wasn’t going to complain. It was better than dealing with the idiots on the bus, anyway.
No one was hanging about outside the entrance—it was too cold—and Emily joined the throng of kids in puffer coats and woolly hats, keeping her head down as she climbed the steps and went inside. Her cheeks tingled as her skin went from the cold, dank air outside to the heat just inside the doors.
She felt different knowing that Jordan wasn’t here, exposed somehow, as though she were being watched by whoever was kidnapping her friends. She swallowed, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck, and headed straight for the lockers.
What if she was being watched?
She unlocked the locker door, stuffing her scarf and hat inside, and stared at the photo of her and Jordan taken last summer at the carnival. Tears stung behind her eyes. They were both smiling in the picture, eyes narrowed against the sun, the Ferris wheel in the background, bare legs dangling from seats. She rested her forehead against the cold metal door and tried to regulate her breathing.
Emily hadn’t told her mom how, when the first girl went missing, Bella, everyone talked about it non-stop. It was like the only topic of conversation going on in school because nothing so terrible had ever happened in Rowanbank before, at least not to someone they knew.
Rumors buzzed around about it being Bella’s weird uncle who had kidnapped her—her close friends insisted there’d always been something sinister about their relationship. Then, when Megan disappeared, the rumors altered, and the words ‘serial kidnapper’ were tossed into the mix. The police were no closer to finding the girls, and Bella’s uncle had been questioned and released with no charges brought against him.
But now … now no one spoke about the girls. It had become a topic to be avoided, a conversation to be conducted in secret, behind closed doors, because if they said it out loud, the fear crept in. And the fear was real. And it was like if they didn’t talk about it, it didn’t exist—they didn’t exist.
But it was happening, and no one knew why.
Emily heard voices in the hallway behind her. She closed her locker and turned around to see what was going on. A group of boys—the jocks—had formed a tight circle with two other boys in the middle. She recognized one of them instantly: Jordan’s boyfriend Kyle.
Kyle shoved the other kid with both hands pressed against his chest, and the boy went flying backwards, the circle parting so that he crashed into the lockers behind him.
“I’ll prove you had something to do with it!” shouted Kyle, his fists clenched.
“Yeah, well, good luck with that.” The other boy turned his head from side to side and circled his shoulders as though he had a crick in his neck. Emily recognized him from the cafeteria, although he was in none of her classes—Derek Graham. He was one of those kids who blended into the school like an extra on a movie set—you knew he was there, but you’d never be able to describe him afterwards.
Kyle raised his fist, and one of the jocks grabbed his arm before he could swing a punch. “You got lucky,” he said, his chest heaving. “This time.”
The group of boys began to walk away.
“I told you, I don’t know anything,” Derek said.
Kyle and a few of the boys stopped and turned back toward him.
Emily closed her eyes briefly. Why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut and walk away while he had the chance? It was obvious Kyle was upset; his girlfriend was missing. No point making things worse.
“I never even spoke to Jordan before last week.”
Emily saw Kyle raise his eyes to the ceiling, saw the muscles beneath his sweater flex. He had a temper—everyone knew that. They’d all seen him in action on the field, taking someone from the opposite team down because they’d stopped him from scoring; they’d all heard him yelling at Jordan when he thought she was flirting with someone else.
If Derek didn’t realize this, he was either stupid, or just didn’t pay attention to a damn thing.
Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, Emily marched over to the group and stood beside Derek. “Leave it, Kyle,” she said. Her heart raced, and she hoped he didn’t hear the way her voice shook. “I know you’re upset about—”
“Upset!” Kyle laughed but the sound was more like a bark. “He knows something!” He jabbed his finger into Derek’s chest. “And I’m going to find out what it is and make sure he gets what’s coming to him.”
“Come on, bro.” A boy from the circle picked up Kyle’s bookbag, shoved it into his arms, and pulled him away.
Kyle shook his head at Derek and followed the others, glancing back over his shoulder at them and making a rather threatening gesture with his hand to let him know this wasn’t over.
When he was out of view, Emily went to walk away.
“Hey,” Derek said.
She stopped and looked at him properly for the first time. He was pale, his forehead littered with pimples. Even his eyes were pale, the color of the sea on a dull day like today. His hair was messy, and she noticed that the neckline of his sweater was fraying.
Derek licked his lips, a movement that made her shudder. “Thanks,” he said.
Emily shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”
“It wasn’t me. I don’t know anything about the missing girls.”
She watched him for several moments. He was quiet. She’d bet anything that he was good at math, that he preferred numbers to people. Sure he was scruffy, but that didn’t make him a bad person.
“Just stay out of his way,” she said finally. “His girlfriend is missing. You’d probably feel do the same thing in his position.”
CHAPTER 2
In homeroom, Emily slid into her usual seat at the back of the class, avoiding looking at the empty desk beside her where Jordan always sat. She pulled a copy of Pride and Prejudice from her bag, and placed it on her desk, opening the book to where she left off—or at least, where she’d pretended to leave off.
She was already behind, and she hadn’t been able to concentrate on the words since the police came to her house to question her about Jordan. She’d been the last known person (as the officer had put it) to see Jordan before she disappeared, and she couldn’t even figure out how that made her feel. What if, by coming to see Emily, it had put Jordan into the position where she was kidnapped? What if she had been someplace else? Would her kidnapper have been able to get her?
Emily continued staring at the page. The words jumbled up in her head.
Abi slid into the seat in front of her and turned around, resting her arms on Emily’s desk. “What was that all about?” She gestured to the hallway.
“Kyle was picking on some kid. He’s just angry about Jordan.” Her eyes slid to Jordan’s desk before she could stop herself.
Abi’s gaze followed Emily’s. “That kid’s a freak anyway. I mean, I’ve seen the way he used to stare at Jordan whenever she was with Kyle.”
“Did he?” Emily had barely even registered his existence, let alone notice him staring at her best friend. She wasn’t proud of not knowing anything about him, but she wasn’t about to go spreading rumors either. The police would catch whoever was behind this. She had to believe that, or she would be too afraid to leave home.
“You ever see him hanging around with anyone?” asked Abi in a conspiratorial sort of way. “There’s something about him that gives me the creeps. I don’t trust him.”
“I … I don’t even know him,” Emily said. “I just didn’t want to see him get beat up because his face doesn’t fit.”
The door opened and Mr. Dubium, their new literature teacher, walked in with a wide smile on his face.
Abi immediately turned around to face the front of the class as the teacher set a large, unzipped bag full of props on the floor by the desk and sat down. He’d only moved to the school the previous semester and practically every girl drooled over him when they saw him. He was the youngest teacher in the school, which meant that he had the added advantage of speaking the kids’ language, as well as being super-cute in a Zac Efron kinda way.
“Morning, everyone,” he said. “I’m covering homeroom for Ms. Watson this week sooo…” He let the last syllable hang a little too long as he smiled at them all in a goofball sort of way. “…any problems, come and see me please.”
Emily watched as Abi nudged the girl in the seat next to her with her elbow. They were so predictable.
Mr. Dubium glanced at Emily. “Everything okay, Emily? I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation outside in the hall.”
Heat rose in Emily’s cheeks, and she avoided making eye contact with Abi who was watching her over her shoulder. “It was nothing, sir,” she said.
“It didn’t look like nothing.” The teacher rose, walked to the front of his desk, and perched on the edge.
“Kyle is Jordan’s boyfriend,” Abi said. “I think he was accusing Derek Graham of being involved in her disappearance.”
Mr. Dubium smiled at her. “Thank you, Abi.” He turned to the rest of the class. He had this way of making every kid there believe that they were special, Emily had noticed, like he was speaking only to them. So when his eyes met hers, she had to blink back tears again.
“I think we all want answers, don’t we?” he continued. “I’ll speak with Kyle later about his concerns. We have to trust that the police are doing everything in their power to solve the case and return the girls to their families. But meanwhile, I wondered how you guys would feel about taking self-defense classes?”
“With you, sir?” Abi asked.
“I’m thinking of setting up the classes, yes.” Mr. Dubium aimed a wide smile in Abi’s direction and caught Emily in its spotlight too. “I’m putting the feelers out, for now, to gauge the level of interest before I speak to the principal. Hands up—who would attend, say for an hour after school, once or twice a week?”
Pretty much every hand in the room was in the air—including Emily’s.
It would keep her mom happy, anyway, even if she didn’t think she’d be any good at it. What if the abductor was six-foot-six and weighed in at two hundred and fifty pounds? What if the girls hadn’t only been abducted? What if … they were never coming back?
“Is it true that most abduction cases are carried out by people the victims know?” The question was asked by a boy called Billy who was sitting by the windows. Billy was one of the shortest kids in the year and he made up for it by being one of the loudest.
“I’m not sure of the official statistics,” Mr. Dubium said, “but a lot of abduction cases concerning young children are carried out by family members.” He glanced around the room. “I know you must all be concerned about your friends. The principal is arranging counselling sessions for anyone who feels that they would like to speak to an impartial third party. But if you would prefer to speak to someone you know, my door is always open.”
Emily rolled her eyes as Abi nudged her neighbor again.
Mr. Dubium walked back to his seat. “How are those of you in my literature class getting on with Jane Austen?”
The boys all took the opportunity to study the floor at the front of the room. Even Abi kept her head down and remained silent.
But Emily felt the teacher’s eyes settle on the book in front of her. “Emily?”
Emily smoothed her hair behind her ears. “I’m struggling with it at the moment,” she said.
“Hey, it’s fine.” Mr. Dubium addressed the class. “If anyone needs an extension in light of what’s going on, I’m happy to postpone the deadline for the next assignment.”
One boy shouted, “Yes!”
“Providing you all remember you have important exams coming up next semester.”
“Sir, what’s in the bag?” the same boy said, obviously hoping to cause a distraction.
Mr. Dubium peered around the desk and picked up the duffel bag. “I thought we’d do some role play in literature today. Get you to understand how it felt to live in Jane Austen’s world.”
“Like in Bridgerton?” Abi asked. Everyone laughed.
“Exactly like in Bridgerton,” Mr. Dubium said.
“Is that a hat?” Billy asked.
Mr. Dubium pulled an ivory silk bonnet from the bag and tossed it to Billy who caught it with one hand. “Why don’t you try it on and show the rest of us?”
“Aw, sir,” Billy whined. He hesitated, clearly embarrassed to try on something that would make him look so stupid.
“Go on,” Dubium prodded. “We’re all friends here, after all.”
Billy hesitated a moment more, then pulled it onto his head, stood, and gave an elaborate curtsey to the rest of the class who all clapped and cheered.
Emily glanced at Jordan’s desk. She was about to say, “That would suit you,” when it hit her with a jolt that Jordan wasn’t there. Jordan loved vintage clothes—it was an obsession she’d inherited from her mom—and especially Victorian garments and accessories. Her favorite item was a white, floor-length Victorian nightdress that made her look like a ghost.
When the bell rang for first period, Emily slipped her unread book back into her bag, and made her way to the front of the class where Mr. Dubium was watching them file out. Abi was standing in front of his desk saying, “Ooh, you smell lovely, sir. What after-shave do you use?”
Emily had art first two periods, followed by a free period which she spent in the library staring out of the window, so she didn’t return to her locker until breaktime. She opened the locker door and froze.
Written inside the door in blood-red paint were the words:
“YOU’RE NEXT!”
CHAPTER 3
Emily sat in the principal’s office in a daze.
It was raining. Water ran in zigzags down the window like great, sobbing tears, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from them. She felt numb. The words hadn’t yet penetrated her thoughts although it was only a matter of time—it was the fact that someone had broken into her locker with the intention of frightening her, that had turned her thoughts to jelly.
They could’ve written “BOO!” and she’d still feel the same. And whoever it was had consciously made the decision to write the words in paint that looked like blood.
Maybe it was blood.
She shivered. The principal’s assistant., Miss Silverstein, glanced up at her over the top of her glasses, and Emily looked away.
She’d slammed the locker shut, pocketed the key, and come straight to the principal’s office, her legs trembling, and her mouth so dry she could barely speak. She’d passed Derek in the hallway. Strange how she’d dismissed him from her peripheral vision for the past four years and now she’d seen him twice in one morning.
He’d called out her name, “Emily!” He’d watched her as she sped by, almost colliding with Mr. Dubium who was carrying a folder full of assignment papers.
She hadn’t stopped to apologize. She hadn’t even glanced over her shoulder, even though she’d seen the concern on the teacher’s face. She’d practically collapsed on Miss Silverstein’s pale beige carpet, allowing the woman to help her through to the principal’s office and settle her in the seat opposite his desk while she brought her a bottle of cold water.
Principal Garba had waited patiently for her to tell him what had happened before calling the police. Two officers arrived ten minutes later, a young lad who looked barely old enough to drive, and a woman who reminded Emily of her Aunt Jane.
They’d gone to investigate the locker and she was waiting for them to return. She didn’t know what they would say. Had the other girls been warned before they disappeared? Jordan hadn’t said anything to her, and she was sure she wouldn’t keep something like that a secret. Would they offer her some kind of protection? Surely, they would have to take it seriously in these circumstances. Or maybe someone would confess to pranking her. No, she couldn’t think of anyone who would do something that stupid, not even Billy.
She heard voices outside the door and Principal Garba came in followed by the police officers. He took his seat behind the desk and steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them.
“Emily, can you please tell us again what you saw in your locker?”
She blinked at him, confused. “Um … someone had painted the words YOU’RE NEXT! The paint was red … it looked like blood. It was even dripping.” She didn’t understand why he was asking her this.
The principal glanced at the police officers. The female officer spoke to her. “Emily, when we opened your locker, there was nothing there.”
“Nothing there?” She shook her head. “There must’ve been. I saw it.”
“Are you sure, Emily?” the woman said. “We understand from Principal Garba that you’re close to Jordan. It wouldn’t be unheard of for your mind to play tricks on you, in the circumstances. You’re bound to be anxious, concerned for your friend.”
“I know what I saw!” Emily said.
Principal Garba said, “I can arrange for you to see a trauma counsellor, Emily. To help you through this terrible time.”
“I don’t want to see a counsellor.” She glanced at each of them in turn. “Are you sure you had the right locker?”
“It was the right locker, Emily,” the woman said.
“I don’t understand how it could have disappeared.” Stupid thing to say when five girls had vanished into thin air and the police hadn’t been able to trace them. “There must’ve been some paint left on the door.”
“We checked,” the principal said. “We removed everything from your locker. All your—”
“What about the photograph? Was the photograph still tucked into the doorframe?”
“What photograph?” The woman watched her; eyebrows raised.
“The photograph of me and Jordan. It was there. There was red paint splashed across it so that I could only half see Jordan’s face.”
Cold dread crept into Emily’s chest. Had someone been warning her that Jordan was dead and that she was going to be next? All along, she’d convinced herself it was only a matter of time before the girls were found, alive, and now the possibility that they weren’t alive had taken root.
“Emily.” The woman reached across and squeezed Emily’s hand. “There wasn’t a trace of red paint in your locker. I didn’t see the photograph either. Did you perhaps move it this morning when you went to your locker, or drop it on the floor? Maybe someone else picked it up. Was anyone with you when you opened the locker this morning? Can you remember if anyone was standing nearby? Someone else going to their own locker, maybe?”
There were so many questions, Emily didn’t know which one to answer first. “There was a fight,” she said. “An argument. Kyle. He was accusing Derek of knowing what had happened to Jordan.”
“Derek?” the woman asked.
“Derek Graham?” The principal was watching Emily. “What happened during the argument?”
“I … I went over and told Kyle to leave him alone. We’re all upset and scared.”
“Emily.” The policewoman moved so that her face was in Emily’s line of vision. “Maybe you forgot to close your locker when you intervened with the argument. Someone might have found the photograph. I’m sure it will turn up soon.”
Emily replayed in her head what had happened when she came into school this morning. She had closed her locker, she was certain of it, but that wasn’t the issue here. Someone had told her that she was next, and the police weren’t taking it seriously.
She stood abruptly and picked up her bookbag. “I didn’t imagine it,” she said, trying to control her voice. “Five girls have gone missing, and someone painted those words inside my locker. Maybe it was a joke. I don’t know. But I’m not being paranoid; I know what I saw.”
“Please sit down,” the principal said. “We’ll investigate it, Emily. I promise I will speak to Kyle and Derek, and anyone else who saw what happened this morning. Maybe someone saw you leave your locker open.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Emily said, blinking back tears. “I don’t want to be next.”
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