The Empty Classroom
Mira's POV
I didn't call the police.
I should have. A normal person would have. But standing there in the parking lot, staring at that note—*WE HAVE WHAT YOU LOVE*—my brain just froze.
My fingers fumbled with my phone. I tried calling Mom three times. Straight to voicemail. Each beep felt like a punch to the stomach.
"Mom, call me back," I whispered into the phone. "Please. Something's wrong. I'm scared."
The parking lot was empty. Everyone was in class. Just me and Mom's abandoned car and that horrible note flapping in the wind.
I had two choices: run home or go back inside.
Home was three miles away. I didn't have a car. Didn't have money for a cab. And what if this was a trick? What if they wanted me to run so they could—
So they could what?
My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone again. Think, Mira. Think.
Mom's purse was still in the car. Her phone was probably in there. Maybe she just went inside to use the bathroom or got called to the office for some reason. Maybe this note wasn't even about her. Maybe it meant something else, something I wasn't understanding because I was panicking.
I grabbed her purse—just in case—and ran back toward the school building.
The hallways were quiet during second period. My footsteps echoed off the lockers as I raced toward the main office. Those pictures were still everywhere. My face staring back at me from every wall, every surface. *WESTWOOD'S BIGGEST MISTAKE* written across each one.
I ripped down every picture I passed, crumpling them into balls and shoving them in my pockets. My vision blurred with tears but I didn't stop moving.
The office door was locked.
I pounded on it with both fists. "Hello? Is anyone there? I need help!"
Nothing.
How could the office be locked? It was never locked during school hours.
My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing my lungs. I couldn't get enough air. The hallway tilted sideways and I had to lean against the wall to stay upright.
*Breathe,* I told myself. *Just breathe.
But I couldn't. Black spots danced across my vision.
"Well, well. Look who's out of class."
I spun around so fast I nearly fell.
Victoria Sterling stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a perfect ponytail. Two of her friends flanked her like bodyguards—Madison and Sophia. All three of them were smiling, but not in a nice way.
"Lost, Mira?" Victoria asked, walking closer. Her shoes clicked against the floor with each step. Click. Click. Click.
"I need to find my mom," I said, hating how small my voice sounded. "Have you seen her?"
"Your mom?" Victoria tilted her head, pretending to think. "Can't say I have. Why would your mom be at school?"
"Her car's in the parking lot. She's supposed to be at work but—"
"Maybe she finally realized what a waste of space you are and left," Madison said. The other girls giggled.
Hot anger flashed through me, burning away some of the fear. "That's not funny."
"Wasn't meant to be," Victoria said. She was only a few feet away now. Close enough that I could see the meanness in her eyes. "You know what is funny though? Watching you scramble around like a scared little mouse."
"I don't have time for this." I tried to move past her but Sophia stepped into my path.
"We're not done talking to you," Sophia said.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Three of them. One of me. The hallway stretched empty in both directions. No teachers. No witnesses.
"Please," I whispered. "Just let me go find my mom."
"Make us," Victoria said.
I clutched Mom's purse against my chest like a shield. "I'll scream."
"Go ahead," Madison said. "Everyone's in class. No one's coming to save you."
She was right. I knew she was right. But I opened my mouth anyway.
Victoria's hand shot out and clamped over my lips before any sound could escape. Her grip was so tight it hurt.
"Shut up," she hissed in my face. "You need to learn your place, Mira. You don't belong here. You never did."
I tried to pull away but Madison grabbed my arm. Sophia took the other one. They dragged me backward, toward an empty classroom. I kicked and twisted but they were stronger, and there were three of them.
The classroom door slammed shut behind us.
Victoria let go of my mouth and I gasped for air. "What do you want from me? I've never done anything to you!"
"You exist," Victoria said simply. "That's enough."
"That doesn't make any sense!"
"Doesn't have to." She walked around me in a slow circle, like a shark circling prey. "You're weird. You're quiet. You make everyone uncomfortable. Schools are better without people like you."
"People like me?" My voice cracked. "What does that even mean?"
"Freaks," Madison supplied helpfully. "Losers. Take your pick."
Tears streamed down my face now. I didn't try to hide them. "Why are you doing this? What did I do?"
"Oh, you want a reason?" Victoria stopped circling. "Fine. You got an A on Mr. Peterson's test last week. The one I failed. You made me look bad."
"That's not my fault! I just studied—"
"Everything is your fault," Victoria said coldly. "The notes. The pictures. All of it. We gave you chances to leave quietly. But you're still here, acting like you have a right to exist in our space."
My whole body went numb. "The notes were from you?"
"Not just me." Victoria smiled. "Lots of people want you gone, Mira. We're just the ones brave enough to do something about it."
"I'm telling the principal."
All three girls laughed.
"Go ahead," Victoria said. "Tell whoever you want. Who do you think they'll believe? Me—student council president, straight-A student, daughter of the school's biggest donor? Or you—the weird new girl nobody likes?"
She had a point. A horrible, true point that made my stomach sink.
Madison shoved me hard and I stumbled backward, tripping over a desk. I crashed to the floor, pain shooting through my hip. Mom's purse flew from my hands, contents spilling across the tile.
"Oops," Madison said. "How clumsy."
They walked toward the door, stepping over Mom's scattered belongings like trash.
"See you around, Mira," Victoria called over her shoulder. "Or maybe not. If you're smart, you'll be gone by tomorrow."
The door slammed shut.
I lay on the floor, shaking and crying, surrounded by Mom's things. Her wallet. Her keys. Her lip gloss. Her phone.
Her phone.
I grabbed it with trembling fingers and tried to unlock it. I knew her password—my birthday.
The screen lit up.
Twenty-three missed calls. All from the same number. All from Westwood Academy.
And one text message, sent an hour ago:
Your daughter is in danger. Come to the school immediately. Room 247. Tell no one.
My blood turned to ice.
Room 247 was the old science lab in the abandoned wing. The part of school nobody used anymore because it wasn't safe.
Mom had come. She'd gotten that message and she'd come to save me.
And now she was gone.
I looked up at the classroom door, and that's when I saw it. Scratched into the wood with something sharp, fresh enough that the exposed wood underneath was still light colored:
ROOM 247. ONE HOUR. COME ALONE OR SHE PAYS.