The junior area was quite far from the senior wing almost as though the school had deliberately tried to separate the two worlds.
The path there stretched long and quiet, lined with old oak trees whose branches arched overhead like a tunnel. The gravel road crunched beneath their shoes, the sound echoing louder than it should have in the heavy silence.
Unlike the senior grounds, which carried a strange, almost oppressive stillness, the junior area felt deceptively lighter.
The buildings were smaller. Painted in softer colors,bcream and pale blue. Windows were wider. The air felt thinner here, less suffocating.
But something was off.
The playground stood empty.
Swings moved slightly, though there was no wind.
Classroom curtains fluttered gently despite the still air.
It felt… paused.
As though time had brushed past it but forgotten to take it along.
Even after long hours of walking around checking corridors, glancing into notice boards, scanning old display cases, there was nothing.
At least nothing connecting to June.
Or Gwen.
"Nothing?" Vanessa asked.
Dana didn't answer.
Vanessa took the silence as one.
She released a frustrated breath.
"Is there really a way we could find anything?" Vanessa asked, leaning against the cold concrete wall.
"This will take time," Dana said absentmindedly. "We may be able to get something by questioning some of the staff, but that would be too suspicious."
"If we can't ask directly about June," Vanessa said, her eyes hardening slightly, "we could try and find something on Gabriella Jenkins. I'm certain I've never heard that name in Herbert Wilbur."
"She could have dropped out along the way," Dana replied, though her tone suggested she didn't believe that. "Not every sane person can stand the atmosphere here."
"That may be true. But let's get our facts right," Vanessa insisted.
"You'll do the talking," Dana said, already lowering herself onto a nearby wooden bench. "I've done more than enough today. So you'll find out about Gabriella Jenkins."
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
Of course.
She turned and walked away.
Dana watched her retreating figure for a moment before reaching into her bag and pulling out the book she had been obsessing over.
"Give me something," she muttered under her breath.
It sounded more like a prayer.
But no matter how deeply she concentrated, no memory surfaced.
Nothing.
The silence of the pages only deepened her suspicion.
Allan.
There was something wrong with Allan.
Vanessa
How the hell am I supposed to find anything about Gabriella Jenkins?
Vanessa thought as she walked toward the staff building, absently playing with her nails.
The junior staff building was quite different from the senior one, tall glass doors, narrow hallways, fluorescent lighting that hummed faintly overhead.
But here, the energy was different.
Lighter.
Yet somehow more observant.
She passed office after office.
She didn't know these staff members. Didn't know which were human. Which were not.
She was certain some of them weren't.
The way their eyes lingered too long.
The way their movements were slightly too precise.
She had to be careful.
"Ow!"
She yelped as she bumped into someone, sending a large stack of files scattering across the floor.
She instinctively lifted her head, ready to glare, but quickly restrained herself.
Humility.
At least until she left this place.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, bending to gather the fallen papers. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
"It's okay," the woman replied.
Her voice was sweet. Calm. Almost soothing.
"You can leave it. I'll pack it."
Vanessa looked up.
The woman appeared to be in her early forties, though in this school, appearances meant nothing.
Dark brown hair neatly tied back.
Pale skin.
Thin lips adorned with pink lipstick.
Kind eyes.
"No, it's fine," Vanessa insisted gently. "I'll pack it."
She stacked the files neatly before offering to carry them.
The woman hesitated, then nodded.
And just like that, Vanessa found herself walking beside her.
"Just call me Mrs. Matthews," the woman said warmly.
"Okay… Mrs. Matthews," Vanessa repeated, testing the name.
"What are you doing here?" Mrs. Matthews asked.
Vanessa's eyes widened slightly.
"You don't look like a junior student," the woman added before Vanessa could respond.
"Need some files?" she asked kindly.
Vanessa hesitated.
Should she ask?
It was risky.
But this might be the only chance.
"I'm actually looking for some files concerning someone," she said carefully, watching the woman's face.
No reaction.
"It's for Gabriella Jenkins."
The name hung between them.
If Vanessa had a visible heart, it would have been pounding.
Mrs. Matthews' steps faltered.
Just slightly.
Then she stopped walking.
Turned.
"Gabriella Jenkins?" she repeated,b not stating, but confirming.
"Yes," Vanessa replied, forcing steadiness into her voice. "I'm looking for some files concerning her. There didn't seem to be any at our school."
"Are you related to her?" the woman asked quietly.
"Not exactly," Vanessa said. "We knew each other… from afar. But I haven't seen her in a long time."
The lie was thin.
Vague enough to be believable.
"Then why are you asking now?" Mrs. Matthews pressed.
"I just transferred to Herbert Wilbur," Vanessa explained smoothly. "And Gabriella schooled here. I just wanted to know."
Mrs. Matthews scrutinized her carefully.
But the innocent almost gullible expression Vanessa wore was flawless.
After a moment, Mrs. Matthews resumed walking.
They didn't speak again.
The silence stretched.
When they reached the office, Vanessa placed the files gently on the desk.
She turned to leave.
No hesitation.
No desperation.
But—
"Gabriella."
Vanessa froze.
Mrs. Matthews' voice carried something different now.
Heavier.
"She doesn't attend Herbert Wilbur anymore."
"I know," Vanessa replied lightly.
A slow breath left Mrs. Matthews' lips.
"She's dead."
The words did not echo.
They did not shatter.
They simply… settled.
Like dust.
And for the first time since entering the junior wing—
Vanessa felt cold.