Triple Silence

Great, now all my victims are in place. Just one, final arrangement.

Oh, he’s right on time.

“Adams.” I spoke, looking straight ahead, out of the window in front of me. I turned round, and leant against the wall behind me.

Hunter paused a few steps in front of me. “Y-yes?” he whispered.

“Friday evening. Come to this address.” I handed him a piece of paper with my address on it. “You’ll get your first lesson. You will arrive there, and you will find your first clue. Follow it.”

“Wh-what clues?”

“Oh, you’ll find out when you get there. Later, Adams.”

---<>---

In the cafeteria, it took me only a minute to spot her.

Anya was sitting in the centre table-as always-along with her friends, all the other people in the ‘it’ crowd. There was Lily, Mandy, Anya, Tansy and Charlie, on one side, and on the opposite side was Jenny, Mandy’s boyfriend Daniel, Tansy’s boyfriend Jeremy, and Anya’s soon-to-be boyfriend Ben. On either end of the table were Anya’s brother, Kyle, and her Gay best friend, Fred.

I called Ben Anya’s soon-to-be boyfriend, as they were in that awkward stage of ‘Do you like me? Do I like you? Do you want to go out? Should we go out? Should we be together? What would the others think if we got together?’ Like I said: awkward. Very awkward. Of course they do like each other, the others know that they like each other, they’re just waiting for it to happen, and of course, they do end up going out.

Anyway, their table wasn’t very hard to spot, as it was right in the middle, and it was the biggest table, with the biggest group, in the whole room.

She was picking at her food, her head half in the conversation-giving her view every now and then-and half in the magazine she was flicking through-one of those thick, expensive, fashion mags, packed front to back with shoe or make-up ads, a few articles hidden somewhere in between-they were a waste of money, time, and effort, if you ask me. She was smiling at something one of her friends had said, her cheeks going from pink to red, a clear sign of embarrassment.

I made my way towards her, pulling out a package I had made from my bag. I stood behind her, and cleared my throat. She turned round.

“Oh! Isla! You scared me. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I just came to give you this back. You must have dropped it earlier.”

She took the parcel from me, and frowned.

“This isn’t mine.”

“Oh, isn’t it? I found it on the floor in front of your locker.”

“This is definitely not mine. You must have the wrong person.”

“No... I don’t think I do. It’s definitely yours. It has your name on it, see? Unless your name is not Anya. But I’m pretty sure that is your name. And your parcel. I wonder what it is.” I turned round and walked back to my table that I sat at on my own. Most of the time, anyway.

After taking my seat, I shifted myself so that I could see the table that I had just come from, but they couldn’t see me.

“What is it, Anya? Go on, open it.” I heard from Mandy.

I watched as Anya tore open the top of the package, and pulled out an ugly yellow sweater. I smirked to myself. I knew what was coming next.

“Ew! Anya that is disgusting!” Tansy shrieked.

Anya looked horror-struck. Her eyes were frozen wide.

“Wow, sis. I never knew you had such good taste!” Kyle’s voice was sarcastic.

Anya still didn’t speak.

“Well...It’s not that bad...Is it?” Jenny.

“Duhh! Jenny, it’s awful! Why do you even have this Anya?” Tansy asked.

Anya blinked, and her eyes scanned the faces of her friends.

“Hun, do I need to take you out on another shopping trip? This material is bad. This colour...is not your colour. This thing looks like my mother made it, and we all know how awful she is at sewing. My dog could probably do better than this.” I rolled my eyes. You can’t stop Fred when he has his clothing speeches.

Anya’s mouth opened, like she was going to say something. Then she closed it again.

“Anya?” Charlie’s soft voice was almost a whisper.

“I...This-it’s not mine. I...Gosh! It’s not mine, okay!” She stood up, and dumped the sweater on the table. She picked up her bag and her magazine, pushed her chair in, and walked off.

Ha-ha, so much fun... all that, over a sweater. God, these girls (and guys) were fashion obsessed. But, there you go, that’s why I picked a sweater. It causes so much fuss.

I watched as Anya’s friends gradually dispersed, and eventually left. I walked over to their table, picked up the sweater and made my way back to Anya’s locker. I slung the sweater over the door of her locker-a note saying I think you forgot this again in the pocket of the sweater-before closing the locker, and finding my way to class.

---<>---

Fun for me, the last period of the day was Home Economics. We were cooking, so I decided to bake some-you guessed it-cookies. Another present for another horrible person. So, of course, after class, I just had to go and find cookie himself. In a school with over 2,000 students, it was easy to lose yourself, not to mention someone else. But Damien wasn’t hard to find.

He was behind the school building with some of his mates, a cigarette in his hand.

“Oh, cookie, there you are! I have something for you.”

I handed him the paper bag, which he took reluctantly but quickly all the same. His face was going red, a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

I smiled. “I made you some cookies, cookie. Cookies for the cookie! That’s funny.”

“Uh, no. It’s really not. Hell! I told you already, do NOT call me cookie!”

“Actually, you said not to call you cookie ever again. There’s a difference.”

“No, there isn’t! There isn’t a difference in hell! It’s the same thing.”

I shrugged. “Whatever, cookie. Whatever you say. Now, I’ve gotta go. Enjoy the cookies, cookie. Laters.”