Chapter 89. Investigation

Chapter 89. Investigation
The bell between second and third period had barely finished echoing when Alice barreled through the crowded hall, wolf-cut hair flying like streamers behind her. She seized my wrist so hard my binder thunked against a locker.
“Emma, emergency gossip silo—now.”
She hauled me into the shallow alcove by the trophy cases. Her pupils were huge, breath coming quick.
“Diana,” she whispered. “Something awful happened last night.”
My pulse hiccupped. “What?”
“Kidnapped.” The word landed like a dropped textbook. “After cheer practice. Two guys in masks, dark sedan, all cloak-and-dagger. They dumped her at some rest stop way outside the city—she had to hitchhike home at dawn. Police are all over the building.”
My mind rattled through images of Diana’s relentless bullying: the Sharpie slurs, the cafeteria ‘accidents.’ But abduction? My stomach lurched.
“Is she…” I managed, “okay?”
“Shaken, but not injured,” Alice said, voice softer now. “Principal Stevens called in extra officers. They’re interviewing teachers first, then students. Everyone’s buzzing.”
I pressed a palm to the cold glass of the trophy case. Behind it, a row of gold-plated lacrosse sticks gleamed indifferent. “Who would do that? That’s—criminal.”
Alice shook her head. “No clue. Diana swears someone’s been following her for weeks. Nobody took her seriously until now.”
The hallway felt narrower, as if lockers had leaned in to listen. Fear clawed up my spine—fear for Diana despite everything, and fear of the unseen darkness that could swallow someone whole and spit them out miles from home.
The PA crackled: “Students are to report directly to third-period classes and remain until released. Teachers will take double attendance.”
A collective groan rose in the corridor. Alice squeezed my arm. “They’ll question anyone who’s had beef with her. That, um, includes us.”
My shoulders tensed. “We never threatened—”
“I know. Just tell the truth.” She paused, scanning my face. “You okay? You look queasy.”
“I’m… stunned.” Words stuck like peanut butter. “I wished she’d get suspended—not kidnapped.”
“I get it.” Alice’s expression softened. “Come on. Chem class. Safety in periodic tables.”
We threaded through the slow-moving crowd. At the stairwell landing I nearly collided with Irene, who was heading the opposite direction. Her brows lifted—concern, confusion—and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but an officer stepped into the corridor, directing traffic. Irene gave me a small, tight nod—a you good? nod—before the flow of students pulled her away.
Seeing her face—pale, eyes wide—only deepened the knot in my stomach. If Irene was worried, the situation was truly upside down.
In chemistry, whispers ricocheted off beakers and Bunsen burners. One rumor said Diana’s kidnappers left a note; another said she’d faked the whole thing for attention. Mr. Platt tried to start a worksheet on ionic compounds, but half the class kept craning toward the door.
I stared at my blank paper. The kidnapping felt like a stone dropped into already-troubled water, ripples colliding with everything I thought I understood about high-school cruelty. Suddenly pranks and Sharpie insults seemed small, childish— and terrifyingly capable of escalating.
My name might end up on a list of “people Diana didn’t get along with,” but I had no idea how to help the police beyond she hated me and I wanted her to stop. Who could possibly go this far?
The PA called a group of juniors to the counselor’s office. My pulse drummed in my ears. I pictured Diana stumbling along a highway shoulder in her burgundy uniform jacket, mascara streaked, headlights flashing past. No one deserves that fear, I told myself, not even the girl who kept shoving trays of mayo into my lap for three years straight.
A glance at the clock—9:37 a.m. If the officers questioned every teacher first, it could be hours before they reached my name. Until then I could only wait, feel my heartbeat thrum against rib and skin, and hope the truth—whatever it was—surfaced quickly and safely for everyone.
I closed my notebook, folded my hands to keep them still. Across the aisle, Alice met my gaze and mouthed, Breathe. I inhaled, shaky but obedient.
Whoever had taken Diana, I hoped they’d be found. I hoped the police would see the difference between words hurled in a hallway and violence played out in the dark. For now, all I could do was tell the truth when asked.