Page 75 of The Forbidden Note

“Good morning,” I say, throwing a welcoming nod at a set of cheerleaders.

I’m met with dark scowls. Youthful eyes cut sharply into me as if they want to slice my skin from my bones.

I blink once. Twice.

Weird.

“Good morning,” I say to a group of guys this time.

They, too, give me weird looks, their eyes sliding down to my skirt.

My fingers tighten around my satchel.

I enter through the double doors and, the moment I step into the hallway, the entire corridor goes quiet. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard such a sharp silence in the halls of Redwood.

No one moves.

No one speaks.

It feels like no one is even breathing.

I take a step.

Another.

Another.

The unholy hush sweeps down the corridor as far as the eyes can see. Students back away from me, cell phones clutched in their hands and eyes tracking my every move.

My chest tightens.

My breathing turns shaky.

What is going on?

Feeling like there’s something on my clothes, I hurry to the bathroom and check my outfit. I’m wearing a simple blue button-down blouse tucked into a thigh-length pencil skirt. I paired that with my usual black pumps.

There are no rips in my blouse, no missing buttons in my shirt, my panties aren’t showing.

So why is everyone staring?

Fearfully, I navigate to Jinx’s app.

Is there something about me there?

I refresh the page.

There’s nothing. Only a few posts about Dutch and Cadence, another post about Redwood’s masquerade ball, and an exposé about two cheerleaders found stoned under the bleachers.

Jinx hasn’t written a post about me.

So what could it be?

I merge back into the hallway, fighting to ignore all the stares.

Maybe it’s all in my head?

Or maybe I won an award for something?

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