Chapter I
It isn't every day when a voice pops in your head and says, “You must jump off this cliff.”
I was staring down the face of a jagged cliffside, a waterfall roaring to my immediate right. The water tumbled in a thick curtain down the face between the two sections of Crescent Harbor hundreds of feet below.
As weird as it may sound, I didn't feel like a quick, sandy death was the best option in the world. Also, the whole headline of “Teenager Commits Suicide on a Popular School Trip” didn't strike my fancy.
“Hey, Rod!” A voice yelled behind me. I turned carefully, my heels treacherously close to the edge of the cliff as I did so. Behind me was Al, a friend of mine since I could remember. His skin was dark, and sweat glistened on his forehead from the long hike up. His brown eyes were wide. “Y-you can come away from the edge now.”
I stepped away from the cliff, putting my hands out in reassurance. “Don't worry. I know what I'm doing.”
Raising an eyebrow, Al shook his head. “Man, you were walking toward the cliff as if you were possessed or something. Scared the crap out of all of us.”
I lifted a finger, trying to come up with an excuse, but none came. I noticed that a large part of the student body, save a few, were anxiously looking toward me.
I sighed. “Well, I'm still here,” I tried to reassure, but Al still looked pretty spooked. “I never planned on jumping, anyway.”
Al inhaled deeply through his nose, cupping his hands in front of his face. “Okay,” he breathed, swinging his hands down to his sides. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Don't ever do that again.”
“I won't,” I reassured again.
“Or I may kill you.”
I chortled. “For seeming like I was going to kill myself.”
“It's a good threat, huh? That way you don't have the glory to yourself.”
I snapped my fingers together dramatically, flipping my hair to one side. “Man! Because everyone that committed suicide wanted the glory of it!”
I raised an eyebrow at Al, and he simply shrugged. Al had always used idle threats, and the or-I’ll-kill-you line was a personal favorite of his. This time was no different.
“Back in the real world, Mr. Rodrick?” A feminine voice asked beside me. I looked to my side to see Mrs. Butterworth looking over her square-framed glasses at me. She stood at about my height (which wasn't a hard thing to do; I barely scraped 5’9”), the whole length of her covered in a grey dress which fabric looked like it was ripped from a couch. She was thin, almost too thin for her age, as her cheekbones jutted out of her face. But even though she seemed physically frail, she was fearsome. To put it simply, once you saw greying hair in a bun traveling down the hallway, people divided as if they were the Red Sea.
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Butterworth managed a thin smile. “Good. We wouldn't want you ruining yet another school tradition, would we?” Her dull green eyes darted between Al and I.
I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
Her expression darkened again. “You two, pranking about suicide. Both legally adults. God forbid you become popular.” With that, she turned and went toward a group of students terrorizing a poor squirrel.
I folded my arms in front of my chest. Wasn’t even intentional, I thought.
Al sighed, shaking his head. “Will she ever lay off of you on that? I mean, it was only the school mascot…”
“The guy was hospitalized, the costume ruined,” I completed. “But I don't think so. Butterworth can hold a grudge.”
Al raised an eyebrow. “It can't be that bad, right?”
I closed my eyes, trying to pick among one of many stories. I decided to pick the one I most identified with. “Class of ‘86. Mr. Brown. Subject of his senior prank. Butterworth still won't talk to him.”
His eyebrows soared. “Wow. I guess it is.”
Three sharp claps came from the midst of the students. Mrs. Butterworth had placed herself at the exact center of the circle of congregated students. I shot a look to where she was before. She couldn't have cleared that situation up that quickly, could she?
Then again, she was Mrs. Butterworth.
“If I may have your attention, please!” Her alto voice boomed. The remaining chatter dissolved into dead silence. A sophomore took a sizeable step back.
She cleared her throat. “This is our fifth annual Crescent Hill hike. Normally, Principal Celestia would be speaking instead of me, but because of her unfortunate disappearance, Vice Principal Luna requested that I lead the hike this year. But out of respect of Principal Celestia, I would ask if you join me in a moment of silence.”
It went completely silent, as if most of the student body had forgotten how to breathe. I bowed my head. It was wonderful, but most of the time frightening how Mrs. Butterworth shush a crowd to an almost deafening silence. Even the birds that were previously chirping seemed to have stop existing entirely.
“Thank you,” she said finally, and the normal, lively silence returned. “Principal Celestia chose this area because it reminded her of her youth, hiking the mountainside with her father…”
I tuned out. I'd heard this story a few times, and I could practically play it out in my head word for word.
“Hey,” Al said lowly. “I’m confused. Principal Celestia was only declared missing. Why is Mrs. Butterworth treating her like she’s dead?”
“I’m guessing you didn’t see the crash in the news,” I said. After Al shook his head, I continued. “The pictures of the crash proves it all. Her car was smashed, absolutely totaled. There was no way she could’ve survived it. But after they examined the wreckage, there was no body to be found.”
That was when a huge guy stepped in front of me. He had a parted, light brown hairdo and a build like a quarterback. That was because he was a quarterback.
“Was that really necessary, you pisshead?” Rug spat.
“Really, Rug?” I sighed. “Right now? Butterworth’s in the middle of a speech.”
He drew a hand out of his pocket, slapping a piece of paper on my chest. I didn't have to look at it to know what it was. Suffice it to say, we had a long-lasting rivalry, and I may or may not have posted a picture of him singing Countess Coloratura half-naked in his bedroom around the school. He didn't deserve the student body officer position anyway.
“Have to admit that it was pretty hilarious,” Al snuck in.
“Shut up, you pisshead!” He snapped at him. As you can probably see, he wasn't exactly creative with his names.
“Hey, buckbrain, eyes on me.” I gestured between him and I. He slowly turned his head back, his eyes burning with rage. Perfect for roasting marshmallows. “I'm the one who you're after here. Keep your eyes on the ball.”
“You know, you can shut your face!” He hissed. He pushed me back toward the edge of the cliff, my heel hanging just barely off. My heart jumped, and I leaned forward.
“Rug!” Al barked. “Cut it out, now!” He took a step forward, trying to push Rug away from me, but he landed a backhand on his cheek, and Al went sprawling. I stepped forward, but Rug was back in my face.
“You're nothing but a little freak!” he graciously continued, his face nearly inches from mine. “That's the reason why your daddy left, wasn't it? He couldn't stand your stupid face!”
I ground my teeth, clenching my fist. It took every fiber of my being to not deck the guy.
“Hey!” Mrs. Butterworth stormed toward us. She must have interrupted her in memoriam. “What in the world are you three doing?”
Rug spun around fast. Too fast. A flying hand hit my arm. I spiraled. My foot slipped. My heart skipped a beat as I plunged to my doom.