Deadly Hallows [Complete]

Chapter 7: Overdose

Math class. It had to be my most hated subject in school. I never did well, no matter how hard I tried, and frankly I think the teacher just took pity on me. Mr. Miller tried extremely hard to explain calculus in a way that would make sense to me, but honestly I didn't think it ever would. There had to be a major I could take in college that required little to no math. I don't think I could make it through college math when I could barely pass it in high school. Sometimes the stress and frustration at my lack of understanding made me want to tear my hair out.

I sighed, resting my head on one hand and staring at the front of the room with obvious boredom on my face as Mr. Miller continued to discuss disk and washer methods, whatever those were. All I knew was he had a picture of Jaba the Hut on the chalkboard, a rather poorly drawn Jaba at that, and was proceeding to slice the image into disks. Why? I had not a single clue and I was just hoping that it wouldn't be on the test. Unless the test involved his drawing and instructed me to slice it as he had just done, then I'd be seeing another big fat, red F on my test again.

I slumped into my chair, relinquishing my last bit of will power to absorb whatever Mr. Miller was talking about. I usually tried to follow along with his notes on the board in my notebook, but I just wasn't feeling up to it today. With a sigh I leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair that each desk had and stretched my back and straightened my legs out in front of me. As my attention drifted away from Mr. Miller, I started to glance around the room at my fellow classmates. Those who were actually paying attention were busy scribbling away in their notebooks. I noticed that Mark Greenlaw was asleep in the back of class in a clever position that gave off the appearance that he was looking down at his open math textbook. Not far from him, Gina Powell was surreptitiously passing notes to her boyfriend, Chris Alister who had grown up down the street from me. In front of him Kate Contario was tapping away at her smart phone, which was hidden behind her desk.

It made me feel better at the fact that I wasn't the only one who wasn't paying attention other than the people sitting in the first row of desks at the front of class taking notes like their life depended on it. I needed to be sitting next to them praying to the math Gods that their intelligence in the subject would rub off on me. Instead, my attention had diverted to trying not to look behind me and two desks over. Mason had come into class today, for the first time in weeks. He hadn't shown up the first week of school because he had to be added into the class, according to the excuse he had given Mr. Miller anyway. Then he skipped out the day Sophie was killed, for obvious reasons, and thankfully wasn't here when we all heard the news.

Mr. Miller cleared his throat, regaining my attention before giving me a warning glare. I gave him an apologetic smile before he turned back to the board and continued to mark up his picture. I knew that he was telling me to pay attention or I would never learn it, but I spent time with him after class to prepare too, and worked with my father after school to pass the tests. There was just a point where I had to give up and come back to it later. They also needed to come to the realization that I was probably a lost cause.

Once his attention was back on the board, mine shifted to Mason again. The last time that he had spoken to me was moments after he had pushed himself off of me and left me surrounded by worried towns people, and when he did grace me with his presence, meaning in school where it was mandatory, he glared at me the entire time. Each time, the anger and hatred were set deep in his eyes, but even as I took the blunt force of his anger I knew it wasn't directed at me. He was upset because of the rumors, and how everyone in town pretended to care when they didn't even know Sophie personally. He was annoyed that they were pretending to have been her friend, when so few had actually ever spoken to her. I couldn't blame him for being upset.

"Oh my God," Kate screeched, her words spoken quickly as they tumbled one after the other from her mouth. After she realized that she had spoken aloud, she slapped her hand over her mouth and widened her eyes in embarrassment.

"Do you have something to share with the class, Miss Contario?" 

Kate shook her head, a blush creeping over her cheeks as she grew more embarrassed. 

Mr Miller lowered his glasses on his face and gave her a stern look. "You know the rules about phones in class. Please read the text aloud."

"Uh... I would Mr. Miller, but it's not a text," Kate stammered, hoping to get out of reading whatever was on her phone's screen. She knew it was no use, because Mr. Miller was strict with this one rule. Anything else was a free for all, but he believed in shaming so that behavior would improve.

"Read it," he ordered, crossing his arms.

Kate sighed, and shot an apologetic glance to the back of the class; to Mason. "Authorities have determined that a drug overdose was the cause of death of Sophie Peters, whose body was found in the woods in Shady Hallows, Maine last Tuesday. "The drug is still undetermined," says Nicolas Fiat, Chief of County investigators of the Shady Hallows Prosecutor's Office. "However, a toxicology report revealed signs of cardiac arrest, which is a symptom of a drug overdose especially in cases where the victim could have consumed alcohol," he stated. Sophie was the newest resident of Shady Hallows. She was originally from Nantucket, Massachusetts, and is survived by her brother, Mason, and their parents, Charles and Amy Peters." She turned around to mouth an "I'm sorry" to Mason, but it was too late for that.

The chatter had started. The gossip that would spread through town before school let out today. Everyone whipped their phones out, texting and calling their friends to spread the news. A few had friends who didn't believe them judging from the, "No seriously, Google it," and the, "She's telling the truth!"

"My sister never did drugs," Mason yelled, slamming his hands on the desk for emphasis, which effectively silenced the classroom. Even Mr. Miller had seen it was a lost cause to stop him from venting, and was going to stand back and let it happen. He walked over to his chair and took a seat, waiting for the madness to be over. 

All eyes were on Mason as he continued. He looked furious, and I had to admit that I was scared. A vein in his neck become prominent and all of the lean muscles in his arms flexed and bulged as he leaned on his desk, his eyes roaming the room."None of you knew her," he said, taking the time to look in everyone's eyes so they knew he was talking about them all. I blushed hard when his eyes met mine for a second. "You don't know what she did, or how she lived her life, so let me tell you. Sophie was a kind hearted and caring person. She took care of her friends and her family. She even risked her life to save someone in your town the second day we were here." He allowed himself a quick glance in my direction again before he continued. "She didn't do drugs, and she didn't drink alcohol. Your police are trying to sweep her death under the rug so everyone can calm down. I hate to tell you this, but someone in your town is a murderer, and whoever it was will probably strike again."

He stopped to let that information sink in. Most of our classmates tilted their heads down and looked at the ground in shame, while others just seemed unaffected. Brad, being the jerk-off that he was, had his phone pointed toward Mason and was filming. I was sure this was going to end up on the internet tonight, either on Youtube or other social media.

"If anyone has anything to say about my sister," he said, his voice dark and deep to show the seriousness of his words. "Then you can say it to my face instead of behind my back. How about a little respect for those still living, since you clearly don't respect the dead." He slammed his chair underneath his desk. The room was completely silent, which allowed the rattling of the metal chair legs to echo around the room before he slung his backpack over his shoulder and stormed out of the room.