LIFE WITHIN THE HALLS

Jayden

Wednesday, 11th February, 6:20 p.m.

On my fourth count, Sandra's resolve wavered. She ran into my car like Cinderella seeking her charming Prince. I was a charming prince to many girls, but she wasn't my Cinderella. She just couldn't. Her face was passable, though—good enough to fit the role.

A subtle smirk played on my lips as I asked, "Did you have to keep me waiting?"

She ignored me, clicking her seatbelt into place as if she were doing me a favor by riding in my car. I'd just saved her from four boys who had her cornered, but apparently, that didn't earn me any gratitude.

I overlooked her attitude, guiding the car onto the road, my hands gripping the steering wheel. With a press of the accelerator, I surged forward, the engine purring as I picked up speed.

Sandra was supposed to sit in the backseat, out of sight and out of mind. That way, I wouldn't have to breathe in her Chanel No. 5 perfume, a scent all too familiar. It was my mom's favorite perfume, one she'd worn since I was born.

It was actually the only perfume I'd known growing up. I never got to experience the scent of my dad. Neither Mom nor anyone else ever mentioned him, except for that one ridiculous story my nanny had told me—that he was Superman, sacrificing himself to save the world. Yeah, dumb, right.

"Do you live around here?" she finally found her voice.

I wanted to ignore her, just as she had ignored me. But after a second thought, I replied with a question of my own.

"Yes, and you? Where do you live? Who are you?"

Her eyes flashed, and she snapped, "You don't know me, yet you tried to harass me in the school basement, huh?"

"It wasn't my intention," I said, feeling a twinge of guilt. "My cousin pressured me into it. She doesn't like you. At all."

"Never even met your cousin, and she's already got a problem with me? That's her baggage, not mine," she said, rolling her eyes and turning away.

She had actually met Ella multiple times, but she didn't know Ella was my cousin.

I gave her a quick glance as I drove. The brown dress she wore accentuated her curves in a way that made me uncomfortable. Just days before, she had slapped me, yet now she seemed at ease in my car, wearing a dress that barely covered her thighs. I quickly averted my eyes. I was used to being stared at by girls, not the other way around. Moreover, Sandra was the last person I should be caught staring at.

To shift the awkwardness, I turned up the radio to avoid any more talk or looks. "Now, as we celebrate Black History Month," the radio presenter said, "let's reflect on the contributions of black musicians throughout history." Beyoncé's 'Formation' began to play.

After a few turns on the winding road, the school's gateway loomed before us. It was closed, as expected, so I pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. This was my first time on campus at night. Unfortunately for me, I had enrolled the semester after night parties were canceled following a student's death.

"Wow!" Sandra breathed.

"First time seeing the night view of the school, I guess?"

"Yes, but not the school building." She angled her finger, giving me a look I couldn't quite decipher.

Was she flirting with me?

She clicked her fingers. "Look left."

I turned to have a look and found myself facing the Ship House—the dormitory for resident students, accommodating international and scholarship students of all grades. The circular lights on its walls radiated like a halo, and the sign reading "SHIP HOUSE" shone like a beacon, visible from miles away.

"The night view is incredible," Sandra remarked.

"Yeah, it really is! And bloody!"

"Bloody? How?"

I unbuckled my seat belt and relaxed in my seat. "You don't listen to the news, do you? Two years ago, a girl died in the Ship House during a night party. She committed suicide."

I noticed Sandra clutching the edges of her dress.

"Is everything okay with you?" I asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine," she muttered. "Uh...about the girl, did you know her personally? Friends with her or anything?"

"No, I never met her since I joined the school after she passed away."

"Oh..." she murmured, her mind elsewhere, as she slowly opened the car door.

I grabbed her arm, spooking her. "Oh, what? You need to thank me for the ride and for saving you."

"Hey!" Gideon boomed in front of my car, waving his hands repeatedly. "Do you want to blind me? Turn off your lights!"

I quickly released Sandra's arm and turned off the engine.

"You two are late, no time for chats," Gideon chided us as we stepped out of the car.

We stood before the closed gate surrounding the empty grounds. The entire school property felt like a cemetery, except for the hushed sounds coming from the Ship House.

"How do we get in with the gate closed?" Sandra asked.

Gideon removed the padlock from the gate with a flourish and held up a bunch of keys, jingling them. "You don't have to worry."

I raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer to him. "How did you get the keys?"

"I got here before the security on duty left, so I stole them without him knowing," he replied.

"And what about the CCTV cameras?" I asked, my head tilted toward the nearest camera.

"You don't have to worry about that either; I've got it sorted," he replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Please, don't ask me how." He held up his hands, palms outward, as if warding off my unasked questions.

Of course, I wanted to know how and when he did that. The Gideon I had known wasn't an IT genius, capable of hacking into cameras in such a short period.

He took the lead, and we followed, step by step, our footsteps quiet as we made our way to Mr. Bennett's office. We used our phones' flashlights, careful not to switch on the lights inside and risk being seen from the outside.

Mr. Bennett's office door was locked, but luckily, it wasn't a challenge to open. Sandra extracted a hairpin from her hair and picked the lock, forcefully opening the door with a little push.

It wasn't my first time in Mr. Bennett's office, but it was the first time I'd entered without his permission. He used to tutor me and Chloe Wilson in his office after school. He even allowed us to use his computer freely, so we both knew the password.

Gideon moved to the computer desk, settling into the chair and beginning to type. Sandra hovered nearby, her fingers fidgeting and her foot tapping impatiently, as if her life depended on what Gideon was doing.

"I know the password on the computer," I said, "that's if he hasn't changed it."

Gideon lifted his head from the screen. "1, 2, 3, 4?" he guessed, counting on his fingers like he was in a kindergarten math class. "That's the password, right?"

"Are you serious? No, that's not it."

He turned the screen toward me, and to my surprise, the four-digit number had indeed unlocked it.

"Strange! Why would Mr. Bennett change his password to something so obvious?" I furrowed my brows, moving closer to the computer desk. Sandra leaned in beside me.

"No way would a high school teacher use a password that lame. It's as if Mr. Bennett deliberately wants us to have access to his computer."

Gideon went through the computer, file after file, showing documents filled with biology notes and photos of Mr. Bennett with a dog, probably his pet. Then, he double-clicked on the video folder, and one video in particular caught my eye as he scrolled past it.

"Wait, did you see that?"

"What?" He turned to face me.

"Go back," I gestured, and he rewound to the particular video I had glimpsed.

I gasped, my hand covering my mouth, as the video played. It was a naked video of the late Hannah Bentley.

"Is that the late head cheerleader?" Sandra whispered,

"Yes," Gideon and I confirmed to her.

"Why is her explicit video on Mr. Bennett's computer?" she asked, her brow knitted.

"This video proves Mr. Bennett was involved in Hannah's death," Gideon said, his tone deadly serious.

"But the doctor's report said she died from a pre-existing condition. How could Mr. Bennett have had a hand in it?" I pressed.

"I don't know, but I'm sure Mr. Bennett had something to do with it," he insisted, his fists clenched at his sides. "Daniel went missing the same day Hannah died. That's no coincidence. We need to report this to the police."

I knew Gideon's dislike for Mr. Bennett clouded his judgment. We all boys didn't like him, but involving the police would only get us into big trouble.

"Not yet," I countered. "We started this on our own; let's finish it our way."

"Jayden's right," Sandra said. "How about we confront the fake Daniel? If he's linked to Mr. Bennett, he'll have the information we need. We can threaten to expose him and report him to the police. That should get him to talk."

Gideon hesitated before nodding, his shoulders sagging. "Fine, I'll copy the video for now. Just in case."

While Gideon copied the video onto his phone, I heard the creak of a door slowly closing outside. I turned away from him, scanning the darkening landscape through the office's sliding window.

"Guys," I whispered, alerting them. "Someone else is here."

"Who would be here at this time?" Gideon asked, his voice rising as he switched off the computer. "Resident students aren't even allowed here at night, so tell me, who?"

"Keep your voice down," I cautioned, sneaking out of the room. My instincts told me there was a fourth person.

They had no choice but to follow me out. We searched every nook and cranny, scouring rooms and corridors. Yet, we found no trace of anyone else.

Perhaps the wind was playing a trick on me, or it was just my imagination.

"Are you two sure we've checked everywhere?" Sandra asked Gideon and me, since she was still unfamiliar with the surroundings.

I looked up at the drop ceiling in the hallway, thinking hard. Which place had we missed? Then it hit me. "We haven't checked the records room."

"The records room? Where our files are kept? What would someone be doing there?" Gideon objected.

"There's no harm in checking, right?" I said, leading the way.

Upon reaching the records room door, which was slightly ajar, I noticed rays of light inside. I paused at the sound of drawers being pulled and pushed. It could be a staff member, but the late hour made me doubt it.

I mustered up courage and slipped in quietly. What I saw left me stunned. A girl in an oversized blue hoodie was searching through file drawers. Her skin color, curly black hair, and height made me know who she was.

I cleared my throat. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Gideon and Sandra joined me, mirroring my confusion.

Victoria turned, dropping a bunch of files. Her face was pale, hands shaking. She looked like a criminal caught red-handed. Her brown eyes were downcast, and she seemed fragile, unlike her bold daytime demeanor.

She hadn't known about our meeting, so what brought her to school at such a late hour?