Tags:
Fiction,
Paranormal,
YA),
Mystery,
Young Adult Fiction,
Young Adult,
Murder,
teen fiction,
ya fiction,
goth,
Paranormal Young Adult,
Thorn,
Thorn series,
goth girl mystery
the pieces? This cannot end well.
Iâm so lost in my thoughts that I almost miss movement by the silver bus. A shadowy figure creeps close to the tires. Curious, I crouch down by an SUV to watch. The shadow pauses to furtively glance around, as if sensing heâs being watched. Heâs draped in all black: long jacket, western boots, and a ski mask pulled low over his face.
The Grin Reaper!
Could it be Wiley? I feel strangely excited, but remind myself that heâs no friend. I have a score to settle with the Reaper. No one tosses me to the ground and dumps my backpack in the garbage. Youâre through, Reaper, I vow. Iâm going to find out who you are and make sure everyone at school finds out too.
This is a new twist to my finding skill, I observe with a wry grin.
Ducking behind cars, I move closer to the bus. At less than fifty feet away, thereâs no mistaking the furtive movements of the Reaper. Heâs creeping beside the tires, clearly intent on trouble. He lifts his hand and something silvery flashes. A knife? Is he going to slash the tires?
Sprinting forward a few cars, I duck behind a silver Prius, watching. The Reaper nears the door of the bus, his head tucked low. He stops, climbs up the steps, and reaches for the knob, but it doesnât open. He withdraws something the size of a pencil from his pocket. His back blocks my view, but when the door falls open, I know heâs picked the lock. Wait till I tell Rune! Her hero is nothing more than a criminal.
He enters the bus, the steps folding up behind him.
Whatâs he doing in there? Nothing good, thatâs for sure. I wait, not sure what to do. I could run get a teacher. But what if he leaves before I get back and I end up looking like a fool? Still, if I do nothing, he could trash Philippeâs bus. And thatâs just wrong after Philippe generously donated his time to the school.
And why would the Reaper go after Philippe, anyway? Curiosity itches like a bad rash I shouldnât scratch. But Iâve never been good at doing what Iâm supposed to, which is my only excuse for heading to the bus.
But as I get close, the door swings open. The automatic steps unfold again as if obeying the Grin Reaperâs command. He hits the ground running, his feet flying.
Instinct takes over and I go after him. He heads back toward the school, turning down a path leading to classrooms. He pauses, glancing around, then disappears around a corner.
When I reach the walkway, heâs gone. I keep running, straining my neck looking for him. As I near the cafeteria, I hear the hum of voices from the Singing Star rehearsal. The Reaper could easily slip inside and vanish into the chaos.
Increasing my pace, I reach the auditorium and grab for the door. But I hear a sound behind me. I whirl, and see dark clothes and a ski mask over dark eyes. Heâs leaning against the whitewashed wall, one gloved hand casually resting on the rough surface and the other tucked into his jacket pocket. I canât see his face, but I know heâs grinning.
âWhat did you do?â I demand accusingly. I take a step forward, careful to keep an armâs distance between us. I doubt heâs dangerous, but I donât trust him.
âWhatever do you mean?â he says in a mocking voice.
âYou know exactly!â Iâm furious heâs not taking me seriously. âI saw you sneak inside Philippeâs trailer.â
âDelusional much?â
I glare. âYou were carrying a knife when you went into the trailer but I didnât see anything in your hands when you came out. What have you done?â
âYou thought that was a knife? It wasnât.â
âI donât believe you.â
âHave you always been such a skeptic?â he asks. âWhat do you think I did? Vandalized the big famous starâs bus? Sorry, but youâre wrong.â
âI donât care what you did. But the principal
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