Battlefield by J. F. Jenkins Page A

stepped further into the room. The mess was a lot more than an overturned table. The room was for the music department. There were large lockers for instruments and uniforms, practice rooms with pianos and music stands, and an office for the teacher. One of the lockers was tipped over, however, and another had a dent. There was a ripped-up piano, more paper than he could possibly have imagined, and a mutilated base drum on the floor off towards the back.
    â€œLooks like there was a fight.” JD was calmed at the lack of blood, but that might not necessarily mean anything good either.
    â€œFight,” Orlando said with a nod. He was the next to step in, and he took a good look around the room.
    â€œYou think it was between Alan and someone else?”
    â€œWho else would it have been?”
    JD smirked at him. “I don’t know. You do have a reputation to uphold as the new bad boy in town.”
    Orlando only rolled his eyes and stepped further towards the back. “This didn’t happen during school. I’m pretty sure this was fairly recent, you know, within the past couple of hours at most. People would be talking about it otherwise.”
    â€œI was kidding anyway.”
    â€œI know that. I think there’s someone else here though.”
    â€œYou got super hearing now, too?” JD quipped and stepped towards Orlando carefully. He didn’t want to rustle through the papers too much for fear of slipping, making a lot of noise, or leaving a clue for the police. He’d watched enough CSI to make him paranoid that they’d get caught by the soil residue left from their shoes, or something as equally obscure.
    â€œNo, I’m actually not human,” Orlando said. He rolled his eyes. “When your house is as quiet as mine, you learn to pick up on the slightest of sounds. You know, pins dropping, breathing, footsteps. It helps me make sure my secret hobbies stay secret.”
    â€œDo I want to know?” Cadence asked, now finally entering the room as well.
    â€œHa. Now shut up. I’m serious here.”
    All three of them were quiet, each barely even breathing, as they all tried to listen for whatever sound he had heard.
    â€œOrlando, buddy, I think you’re hearing things,” JD whispered.
    â€œMaybe if you shut up,” Orlando said and walked through the room, stopping every few feet to extend his ear out to listen better. He stopped between the tipped-over locker and the broken one with the dent. There was one large instrument locker still intact, and he pressed his ear against the door. He made a gesture for everyone to not make any more sound, and once more the air in the room became still. Then he opened the locker. With a sweeping gesture, he motioned for them to take a peek inside.
    What they saw was Alan, who stared at the three of them with wide, glossed over eyes. “Carrot,” he muttered to himself.
    â€œWhat about carrots?” Cadence asked. She leaned into the locker to give him her hand. He didn’t answer. “Come on, Alan, let’s go home.”
    â€œCarrot,” was his reply. Every action he made was only done because of her leading. Outside of his lack of mental presence, the rest of him appeared to be unharmed. His clothes were slightly disheveled, but he didn’t have a cut or a bruise on him from what they could see.
    JD put an arm around him and walked with him through the hallway. Alan leaned onto him for support, walking stiffly, as though his knees and limbs were incapable of bending.
    â€œDo you think if we walk him out, everyone will be able to see him? I mean, he’s usually invisible to everyone but us, but that might just be his power thingy,” JD said.
    â€œWe should assume so. Good thing we parked close, huh? But what are we going to do with him?” Cadence said.
    Orlando raised an eyebrow. “I might have an idea. JD, how do you feel about staying over tonight?”
    JD frowned.