Did she just say a median? 

As in walk around talking about how they can feel auras and ask pointed questions that are general to most people-median? Something about this feels...it feels so...?

"Doesn't this feel a little disrespectful?" 

There it is. That's the word I was looking for. 

Something about Anne-Marie's actions feels weird to me. Maybe it was the overperforming in the auditorium this morning. Or maybe it's the complete mood swings that she seems to fly through at any given moment. She goes from sobbing, to her normal insulting demeanor, to wanting to try this completely outlandish median thing. 

 Anne-Marie looked at Gala and scoffs. "Of course, you would have that mindset, Gala," Anne-Marie says dismissively. "You never wanted to go with what everyone is doing. Always have to be different. Always have to be the fucking pick me."

Gala turns beat red, and I can see her fury building up behind her eyes. She's biting her lower lip, and Anne-Marie doesn't seem to notice. Or doesn't seem to care. 

A knock at the door breaks the group's tension as one of the servants stands in the doorway. "Excuse me, Anne-Marie," says a plump man with a bald patch at the top of his head. "You have a Mikaela Branch here to see you?"

Anne-Marie perks up and straights on her mattress. "Yes, send her in." 

The man steps to the side and a skinny girl with red curly hair steps into the room. She wears a feather earring and a black flat-top hat that matches her black leggings and crop top. She wears a loose black button-down shirt that she leaves unbuttoned. 

"Yes," she mutters as she walks around the room. "Yes, I definitely feel a presence here," her airy voice fills the room. There's a melodic aspect to it that is calming. She has a peaceful hippie vibe going that I can't help but feel standoffish towards.

I look at Gala whose jaw is on the floor as she watches this girl, who didn't even introduce herself run through the room and take deep breaths. Stassi looks amused and Pria looks scared to react as Anne-Marie stands up and walks to the girl. "It's so nice to meet you. Our friend," she pauses and looks at everyone in the room. "She passed away. Murdered. And we just want to know what happened." 

"I think I can help with that." 

She walks over to the mattress and sits down where Anne-Marie was. She motioned for us to get into a circle and one by one we did as was instructed. "It's very important for us to focus all of our energy on finding the lost soul. I can only make contact though if there are believers in here. If you doubt me the seance won't work." 

Gala rolls her eyes and looks at me with eyes that could start a fire with how heated they are. I look back at the median with expectant eyes. She closes her eyes and hums. "What is the name of the soul we are looking for?" 

"Victoria Caldwell."

Mikaela opens up her eyes and for the first time since coming into the room her hippie demeanor breaks. The mention of this famous case clearly caught her off guard. She quickly composes herself and closes her eyes again. "Victoria. We are calling out to you from the land of the living. We are wanting to speak to you about your death. Victoria if you're here-"

"I'm sorry, I can't do this." 

Gala stands from the circle and shakes her head. "This is stupid. She would have thought this is stupid. I'm just going to call an Uber." 

She pulls her phone out and begins to click her fingers around on the screen before Anne-Marie laughs from her spot in the circle. "You're the last person that should be talking about what Victoria would have wanted, Gala." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

Stassi and Pria look at each other awkwardly before getting up from the circle and walking over to a corner of the room away from the drama. Mikaela backs up slowly to join them, and now it's me sitting in the middle between two hurricanes blazing toward each other at full force. 

"It means she didn't even like you. She talked more shit about you than anybody in the school. Said you were lucky that you got that Teen Georgia thing because that's all you had going for you and she would have dropped you from the group otherwise." 

When I was eleven my grandfather died. He was a jolly man and the only father figure I had ever known. After his death, my mom and aunt were cleaning out his belongings from their childhood home when my aunt got mad. She told my mom all these awful things my grandpa and grandma had said about her. My mom had a bit of a wild past, so she had no doubt that at least some of it was true, but it hurt her relationship with her parents and stained that forever.

All because she couldn't confirm or deny what they said.

It's hard to look back on fond memories with someone when someone tells you they thought differently of you. Are your memories of the good times real? Or were they just figments of the relationship you thought you had with someone?

Speaking for the dead is one of the nastiest things that someone can do. It's not like Gala can confront Victoria about this and see if what Anne-Marie is saying is true is actually true. From what Gala has told me about Victoria it sounded like they had a strong friendship. A bit chaotic, and maybe even a bit toxic, but a strong one nonetheless. 

Now that Anne-Marie shot this at her Gala is going to have doubts for the rest of her life about Victoria. There's nothing she can do about it. 

Gala has tears welling up in her eyes. She blots them away with the sleeve of her shirt and then walks to where she dropped her bag earlier and grabs it. She leaves the room without saying a word. Stassi and Pria awkwardly walk over to where Anne-Marie was sitting and join her again. 

"I can't believe she acted like that," says Stassi with a shocked expression. "How dare she try and talk for Victoria." 

My stomach churns as I watch these girls prepare to verbally destroy Gala further. I can't believe that this is a group that just hours ago I wanted to befriend. From the time I got here, they've been nothing but callous assholes on a power trip. The only person who's befriended me in the whole school just left out of the room crying and I didn't even follow her out. 

I'm not going to let her go alone. 

I don't say anything as I get up from my spot in the circle and walk to my own bag. I throw it over my shoulder and stop at the entrance to the room as all eyes are on me. "My grandfather died when I was eleven years old," I tell them solemnly. "My mother and her sister got into a fight when after they died, and my aunt decided it was the perfect time to let my mom know some of the things her dad said about her. Whether they were all true she'll never know, but my mother will forever remember the words that my aunt said her dad said. That wasn't cool, Anne-Marie." 

I didn't wait for a response. Instead, I walked out of the room and down the vast hallway trying to find my way back to the front door. I'd hoped Gala hadn't left the property yet, but I figure I could always walk back to school I guess? It wouldn't be fun, but at least I wouldn't be surrounded by what was going on in there. 

Thankfully, when I finally make it to the front door I see Gala sitting on the driveway cross-legged and sobbing into her hands. I walk over to her and wrap an arm around her, and she looks at me startled. 

"Elena she'll ruin you. Get back in there." 

She feverishly rubs her eyes as I shake my head. "I don't want to be friends with someone who can do that to one of their best friends. Besides, between this morning and what happened on the beach, I don't think I like Anne-Marie," I chuckle. 

"No one likes Anne-Marie," Gala insists. "She's rich and pretty. Unfortunately, that lets you get away with a lot." 

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't say anything back there-" 

"Don't," Gala says with a grin. "You did enough by coming out here and leaving with me," she wipes her eyes one final time. "I've felt so alone since Victoria left. It's nice that I feel I finally have someone." 

The car pulls up to us and we get into the backseat. "Riveroak Prep," Gala says to the driver as they nod and drive down the long pathway to exit Anne-Marie's house. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gala and I rode home in silence, but that didn't stop Anne-Marie, Stassi, and Pria from blowing our phones up the whole way home. We had to turn out phones off just to have a momentary break from the madness while we drove back to the school. 

When we finally arrived back at the dorm, Gala instantly changed into workout gear and threw her airpod in her ears. "Can you share your Taylor Swift playlist with me?" she asks as she ties her shoes. 

"Sure," I say going to Spotify and texting her a link. 

She nods appreciatively as she goes to the door and begins jogging in place. "I'll be back in about an hour. I'll shower and then we can grab dinner?" 

"Sounds good." 

She runs out of the room and I wait not even a minute before I run to the door and lock it. I basically dive headfirst into my underwear drawer for the diary I had thrown into it hours before and open it to the first entry. 

Something dawns on me as I hold this tiny book in my hands. Gala might not be able to know what Victoria thought about her fully, but maybe there's something in here that can help me understand their relationship better. Maybe I can even find a way for Gala to read it without her knowing I have the diary. 

Because one thing is for sure, the more I learn about Victoria, the more I want to know about her. 

I look at her dainty cursive scribbled across the page with precision and take a deep breath as I read the first diary of the girl who has captivated the homes of millions of Americans. 

I can't believe that Bryan did that! 

I asked for one day. ONE DAY! I just wanted to have a good date without the threat of his wife calling and ruining everything. 

My eyes pop out of my head at the last sentence. His wife? His wife?! Victoria what were you into? Who is Bryan? And if he was married the connection between the two of them couldn't have been well known. Is Bryan the key to why Victoria was found at The Bay? Did he kill her and feel guilty then move her body? 

Who even is Bryan?!

He keeps telling me he doesn't love her, and that he only loves me. That when I graduate he'll leave her and we can go be together forever. Then why is he still staying with her in the meantime? I got into a relationship with someone who was in an unhappy marriage. He told me that they were already separated and months- MONTHS - into our relationship they decide to try and work it out?! 

"I just can't leave you, baby!" 

What a load of shit. I might be young, but I wasn't born yesterday. He is either going to fix this mess he caused or he's going to regret this. Nobody, and I mean nobody, fucks with Victoria Caldwell. 

At least I'll always have an A in his class I guess. 

-VC

My heart skips a beat as I read the last sentence. Riveroak Prep, one of the most prestigious schools in the country, not only has a murderer potentially on campus, but a teacher who was in a relationship with a student. 

Not just any student though. 

He was in a relationship with Victoria Caldwell. 

I get out my laptop and search Riveroak Prep on Google. I click on the faculty page listed and begin to search the page for someone named Bryan. 

Nothing comes up. 

Is it possible he left? 

Maybe Bryan is a middle name? I begin typing in staff members into Facebook. Maybe I can find a little more about them on their social media pages. I skip the names of the women and type the names of the male staff members on the page. 

After the second to last name I was beginning to lose hope when something caught my eye. 

Arthur Bryan Goldstone. 

My heart skips a beat as I look at the man who can't be above thirty in his profile picture. He has shaggy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a tan so deep you'd think he lived at the beach. Further looking at his page shows he's only twenty-six years old, and as of this January is recently divorced. 

My stomach turns when I realize his name looks familiar. I turn to my schedule that Wendy had given me the day before in her office and my face pales. There, written in black ink are words I had hoped wouldn't be there. 

Period One: American Literature - Goldstone.