Chapter 2

If there ever were a purgatory on Earth, Rosedale High would probably be it. Built 20 years ago by an eccentric aging millionaire, he had passed away soon after it was finished. His death dashed the locals' dreams of him further developing our tiny town on the outskirts of Kansas into something bigger, something more. But a family dispute over his last will put an end to this Utopian dream. Because of this, Rosedale High stood out like a hangnail among the handful of local shops and 2 storey buildings with their picket fences here. Everyday we went through neither heaven nor hell, trudging through our schooldays like cattle lolling about in an empty field.

The next day I could make out the figures of construction workers on the rooftop hastily putting up a makeshift 5 metre high steel fence around the ledges from the school front gates. I stopped by the spot where Alan had met his end just yesterday. Though the area had been meticulously scrubbed clean overnight by the janitors (who no doubt must have requested extra pay for the grueling task), a large dark stain remained on the concrete pavement where Alan�s blood had permeated its pores. Someone had left a small bouquet of flowers by the spot. I didn�t have to look at the accompanying card to know who had left it.

Like all high school gossip, news of Alan's suicide soon spread. Whenever I passed a small group of students, their eyes would follow my back while speaking among themselves in hush-hush tones, "Hey, y'know that guy? He and Alan..." or "Check it out, it's the dead dude's friend," It didn't help either sitting by the empty seat that Alan used to occupy; I could still feel his presence in the classroom though he was not physically there. I tried to follow Garyson's teachings on the board but I couldn't concentrate. My mind constantly wandered, as my eyes kept glancing at the window half expecting Alan's body to fall past the window again. His death haunts me yet it fascinated me at the same time. What was Alan thinking about as he fell headfirst to the ground? Did his life flashed before his eyes like what near-death survivors on TV always say? Did it hurt? Did he suffer?

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a something brush against my elbow. It was a note, folded in half. Who had passed it to me? I opened and read the scrawled writing in it:

Meet behind school grounds at the Rock after school. Need to talk. Don't tell anyone.

Tony

I decided to humour his request there and then. I had nothing else better to do anyway after school. I looked over at Tony's table at the back of the class and saw him eagerly waiting my reply. I gave a quick nod to assure him of my approval and went back to half-listening Garyson�s drivel.

In truth, I never knew Tony really well. His name was Anthony Bogard but we all called him Tony. Despite being half-Sicilian and always greasing his hair back looking like a goddamn mafia, he didn't act like one. Tony was chicken compared to his dad who worked in the local abattoir. Since childhood, he'd always be the one crying for his missing ball or toy or whatever so I never hanged out with him. I had second thoughts about meeting him but the secrecy of this meeting puzzled me. We hadn't spoken to each other much in school in the past; why the sudden face-to-face secret meeting? Anyway, I was going to find out soon enough.

After classes, I made my way to the back of the school grounds. I never liked going there; it always gave me the creeps. The school grounds housed a collection of classrooms and labs considered too outdated and old to be used, so it became a favourite hangout for school truants to play hookey and sneak a quick smoke there. There was also a large boulder 3 metres high near the unused labs there which we had simply called the Rock. I had heard rumours that a kid once got lost back in the unkept undergrowths near the Rock and his body was never found. Some said his body was torn to shreds by lurking wild animals hiding in undergrowths, but I thought it was bullshit.

When I passed by the dark undergrowths, the smell of the grassy plains awoke feelings of nostalgia in me. I paused to take a look around me for a moment. The surroundings looked familiar: wasn�t the path to the orphanage around here somewhere? I searched among the thin blades of grass for a couple minutes before I finally found it. The path was barely visible, but five years of tramping and walking through the trail had probably rendered it permanent. At first, I felt like taking a stroll down the old trail but something in my mind pulled me back. I stared at the trail in front of me, its dark and winding endless path leading to the thick of the forest. It was calling, calling me out trying to entice me to return.

I ran the hell out of there. I had already wasted enough time.

When I finally reached within the sights of the Rock, I could see Tony with his back leaning against the massive granite. As I got closer to him, I noticed beads of sweat had collected on his forehead. His eyes seemed red and teary with dark rings underneath. In fact, it looked like he hadn�t slept at all since yesterday. Tony began to speak.

"D-d-d-id you t-t-tell anyone about t-t-t-this?" he nervously asked.

"No, why would I?" I replied. "So, what do you have to say that you had to make me walk all the way here to the Rock?"

"Dante, I think I...I..." he stuttered.

"Hurry up man, what the fuck is it?" I said. I was losing my patience. The pungent smell of his hair grease was making me feel queasy. He hesitated for a few seconds before continuing.

"I-I-I think...I k-k-killed Alan,"





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