[right][h3]Jamie Drummond, Aveline Standiford and Samantha Wellington
5:00 PM[/h3]
[/right]

	Jamie wiped his palms off on his trousers, waiting outside the door to Mrs. Wellington’s room for some sign that it was alright to come in. He did wonder if Aveline was inside already, given that he’d passed her room and hadn’t even caught a glimpse of her, but the world was turning funny colours now – it was becoming [i]plain[/i]. There were no out-of-place scents, no otherworldly images that tickled the back of his neck, and it was all thanks to good old prescription medication.

	It was almost bliss… Except for the fact he couldn’t quite tell where everyone was anymore based on their vibrancy, or the hollowness in his chest that wouldn’t quite fill up. 

	The door opened and all he felt as warning was a flicker of a paint-stained canvas. Av– Miss Standiford was inside, then, he supposed a few seconds after he was confronted with the teacher herself. Her head was tilted to the side curiously. (But [i]was[/i] it curiosity? He couldn’t tell anymore!) “Jamie? You’re usually louder. Come in, come in.”

	Jamie did as ordered, scanning the room to try and find Mrs. Wellington, then the Soviet girl. At the latter’s absence, he asked, “So where’s the – uh Natali?” No calm, pleasant greeting… just suspicion. 

	Mrs. Wellington looked up at Jamie, and sighed. “She’s missing. I am sorry we did not inform you earlier, but in light of this, I meant to cancel this meeting. However, I’ve been running around the school trying to locate Miss Valkyrie, but to no avail,” she said. Empathy or not, Jamie was still sensitive, observant (when it mattered). He didn’t know the Music Teacher well enough to be so absolutely attuned to her emotions even when dulled as he was his own mentor, but he figured from her expression that her worry was sincere.

	Or, at least, he hoped so.

	But that wasn’t enough. Though he’d tried to avoid even thinking about it during Football, he just had to bring it up. He switched his resolute stare between the two teachers. “What about the other one?”

	“...How did you know about Arro missing as well?” Mrs. Wellington said, standing up. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But yes, both of them are missing, sadly. No one has seen either since yesterday.”

	“Two on the [i]first day of school[/i]? And you don’t see anything strange about that? Nothing at all?” He could feel the back of his neck burning hot with a temper usually slow to build. “I mean, it’s one thing to sweep the whole Natalie Coleman thing under the rug, but shouldn’t parents be informed ‘bout this sorta thing?” 

	“I do see plenty strange here Mr. Drummond, but I have done what I can in this situation. I have informed the Headmistress who in turn will inform the parents. We can’t even call the police in until they have been missing for more than twenty-four hours, and that has not even come to pass yet. I understand your concern, but…”

	“‘Cos it’s not at all suspicious for two girls to disappear from a closed campus after last year, right? Pretty sure the police – or my [i]dad[/i] – would be interested in hearing about something like that.” 

	“Mr. Drummond, two of my students are missing and you’re accusing me of hiding something? Honestly, sometimes I think I’m one of the few teachers that DOES care around here!” Mrs. Wellington seemed to be seething at that point – low, rumbling notes strong enough to start wearing away the effects of his daze. 

	“Yeah? Well, true or not, Aveline–” He threw his hand in the direction of the Home Economics teacher who was clearly keeping herself [i]well[/i] out of the argument. “Knows something, the Headmistress knows something, and the only people who [i]don’t[/i] know this ‘something’ are us kids getting [i]killed[/i].”

	Quietly, Aveline interjected, “I don’t know anything.” Jamie ignored her completely, staring down Mrs. Wellington.

	“...What do you mean ‘us kids’? ...Jamie do you know something about either Arro or Natali? What is going on?” Mrs. Wellington seemed to switch gears at Jamie’s words.

	Jamie stopped, exhaling sharply. He had to be calm, especially when his nerves were frayed. “I don’t want to be pessimistic or anything, Miss, but Jenkins is [i]definitely[/i]–” He cut himself off, ending with a shrug.

	“Both of you… out… now,” Mrs. Wellington said. “Aveline, you and I need to talk… but not now. Mr. Drummond, repeat nothing that has been said here to anyone else. I don’t even care if Miss Mareino begs you to, but nothing leaves this room. Do you understand?” She said, her eyes narrowing. 

	“Oh, so it can be hushed up like last time? Yeah, miss, I understand [i]completely[/i].”

	“...Trust me, if Miss Jenkins is dead, I will be raising Cain about this… but until this is proven to be true, I don’t want rumors and panic spreading through the school,” Mrs. Wellington said, turning her head to Aveline and seeming to glare at her. The younger woman, to her credit, didn’t even blink, and Jamie (for all he distrusted Aveline in that moment) had some respect for that.

	But he wasn’t taking this well. He wasn’t taking this [i]at all[/i].

	“Jamie, [i]don’t[/i],” Aveline warned.

	“Nah, I see absolutely nothing wrong with fear and panic. I did as I was told last year when Coleman died – kept it all top-secret, under wraps, lied to my roommate about practically screaming bloody murder when it happened and she was just snuffed out – all for this to happen again?” Jamie’s fist tightened almost painfully, pinned to his side. “[i]Nah[/i],” he repeated.

	“I was not aware of this Mr. Drummond.” Mrs. Wellington turned back to the young student. “So, you are saying there is no chance for Miss Jenkins then?” Her voice lowered a bit, the full brunt of her emotions hitting Jamie like a harrowing funeral dirge.

	“I… I don’t want to say no, but… well,  [i]no[/i].”

	“I see… Mr. Drummond, if you and Miss Standiford could please leave… I do need a moment now. I had to run to town tomorrow, and I will be adding informing the police about the situation to my to do list. All I ask is to keep it quiet between us until a full investigation is done,” Mrs. Wellington said, sitting back down and letting out one very long sigh. 

	Jamie felt his righteous indignation slipping from his grasp, no matter how much he tried to keep it pinned down. He stalked over to the door, hands in his pockets, but before leaving, he tried to get the last word in. “I can’t tell them she’s dead – ‘cos it’s impossible unless I’m telling everyone in the school I’m some sort of serial-killer freak. But I [i]will[/i] tell them that’s something creepy, and weird, and wrong, and that there hasn’t been anything being done about it for two years.” He quickly left, standing in the hall outside for a brief moment.

	Even as Miss Standiford’s heels clicked their way in the opposite direction, he was hit by two distinct waves. A lament, bitter and sorrowful poured from Mrs. Wellington’s room, as loud as if she were playing it herself – as if anyone else could hear it but Jamie. And from Aveline?
	
	A splash of purple too ambiguous to unpick.