was really hurt.
I told them again that I found it on the floor beneath the table and if they didn’t believe me, well, that was their problem.
I could tell that Violet wanted to believe me but Jordyn made it clear she didn’t.
“I can’t believe you stole your best friend’s phone, Cora. That’s awful.”
I hollered that I didn’t steal it, that I found it, but Jordyn dragged Violet away and left me just sitting there.
Case #92-10945
Direct message dated December 20, 2017,
via DarkestDoor
Corareef12:
We present our project to the class in a few days.
JW44:
YOU’LL DO GREAT!
Corareef12:
Yeah, I can’t wait until it’s over.
JW44:
ARE VIOLET AND JORDYN STILL MAD AT YOU ABOUT THE CELL PHONE?
Corareef12:
Whenever Jordyn walks by me in the hallway she pretends to cough and says, Thief. She told everyone I took it. Violet says that she just misplaced the phone, but I can tell that she thinks I stole it. She’s not mean to me but she isn’t really nice, either. She hardly talks to me anymore.
JW44:
LIKE I SAID, THEY’RE NOT TRUE FRIENDS. YOU KNOW YOU CAN COUNT ON ME, THOUGH. WHEN DO I GET TO SEE THE MOVIE?
Corareef12:
IDK. It’s kind of embarrassing.
JW44:
WHY? I’M SURE IT’S AWESOME. I BET YOU’LL GET AN A.
Corareef12:
I hope so. We spent all day Saturday filming it. I thought we’d never finish. I played the part of Lucy.
JW44:
YOU DO LOOK A LITTLE BIT LIKE LUCY. YOU’RE PRETTIER, THOUGH.
JW44:
YOOHOO. ARE YOU STILL THERE?
JW44:
WHO DID YOU HAVE PLAY ME?
Corareef12:
Gabe Shannon. He’s a boy in my class.
JW44:
DID YOU KISS HIM?
Corareef12:
What? NO! We were just acting. Nothing happened.
JW44:
BECAUSE I DON’T THINK I’D LIKE IT IF YOU DID.
Corareef12:
We didn’t, I swear. We just pretended to. No one wants to kiss me, anyway. Everyone hates me.
JW44:
I DON’T THINK THAT’S TRUE, CORA.
Corareef12:
How do you know my real name?
JW44:
DUH. YOUR USERNAME STARTS WITH CORA. I KIND OF FIGURED THAT WAS YOUR FIRST NAME. I’M RIGHT, AREN’T I?
Corareef12:
But how do you know? Are you like God who knows everything?
JW44:
WELL, I’M NOT GOD, BUT THANK YOU. IT’S HARD TO EXPLAIN, BUT I JUST KNOW. I KNOW THAT YOU WEAR A PINK COAT AND HAVE A PURPLE BACKPACK WITH WHITE POLKA DOTS. I KNOW YOU HAVE BLOND HAIR AND BLUE EYES. AND I KNOW THAT YOU’RE VERY PRETTY. A LOT PRETTIER THAN THOSE TWO GIRLS YOU HANG OUT WITH.
Corareef12:
Well, I don’t really hang out with them anymore and everyone else thinks Jordyn and Violet are the pretty ones.
JW44:
NO WAY. BESIDES, YOU HAVE A MUCH BETTER PERSONALITY.
Corareef12:
I wish they were my friends again.
JW44:
ARE YOU SURE? I THINK THEY MAKE YOU SAD.
Corareef12:
It’s lonely at school.
JW44:
WELL, I’M YOUR FRIEND, TOO. REMEMBER THAT. MAYBE WE COULD MEET SOMEDAY. IN PERSON. WHAT DO YOU THINK?
Corareef12:
Are you really Wither? I feel like maybe you’re just pranking me.
JW44:
YES. I WOULDN’T LIE TO YOU, CORA. I CARE ABOUT YOU TOO MUCH.
Corareef12:
I don’t know what to believe anymore.
JW44:
I’LL PROVE IT TO YOU.
Corareef12:
How?
JW44:
COME TO THE TRAIN YARD. WE’LL MEET IN PERSON. YOU’LL SEE...
JW44:
CORA?
JW44:
WHERE’D YOU GO?
Thomas Petit
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
Thomas’s first thought is the attic. He places a step stool beneath the hatchway in the ceiling and pulls on the cord that unfolds the stairs. He threads his arms through the straps of the book bag and, with it resting on his back, clutches the wooden rungs just above his head and makes his way upward.
By the time his head pokes through the narrow opening in the ceiling he knows the attic won’t work. The wide-planked wooden floor is covered in a thick layer of dust. He hasn’t been up here in about five years, when he and Tess cleaned it out.
If Thomas stows the backpack up here he will disturb the nearly half-decade worth of dust. His footprints will give him away and he doesn’t have a good enough explanation as to why he would venture up the wobbly steps. He slowly makes his way back down the rungs, fearful that a misstep could result in a broken leg and he’d end up in the hospital in a bed right next to Tess. Then what would happen to Jordyn?
Next, Thomas tucks the backpack behind a stack of neatly folded sheets and towels on the top shelf of the linen closet. He knows this won’t work, either. He’s seen enough crime shows to know that the police will look there, too. He wanders the house trying to come up with the safest spot. He knows in his bones that it is just a matter of time before the police chief will knock on the door, warrant in