Chapter 13:
Not Crazy8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfjprrtFBKN
8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡToiufs0C1u
Jasmine’s just sitting there like a wax statue. Not a peep. Not a hand raise. Not even one of her snarky “actually, teacher, that’s wrong” moments. For once, she’s just locked on the board like it personally offended her. But I know that look. She’s not in class. She’s back in that bathroom with me, probably replaying every word I said like a horror podcast on loop.
The teacher—he looked over his glasses like he was trying to see into her soul.
“Miss Reyes?” he said softly.
She blinked. Slow. Like she had to boot up her brain just to turn her head and remember where she was.
“Would you mind telling us what an enzyme does again?” he asked.
The whole class turned to look. The room got quiet. Real quiet. Somebody whispered her name like they were afraid she might blow up or pass out.
“It... speeds up chemical reactions,” she said, voice soft, distant.
“Correct.”
But he didn’t move on. He lingered there, studying her like he knew something was off.
“Have you seen Han?” he asked. “Class is almost over. He never came back.”
Her face didn’t twitch, but I know her pulse must’ve spiked. She shook her head—didn’t even look at him.
“You sure?” he asked again, watching her carefully.
“I’m sure,” she said, flat.
She was lying. And he knew it. Gave her that little “I’ll let it slide” half-smile like teachers do when they’re tired of pushing it.
“Han’s a good student,” he said. “I’d hate to report him for ditching. Probably just scrubbing his fingernails in slow motion… or caught in hallway traffic.”
“Or maybe he’s just ditching,” Jasmine muttered, dry.
He pressed his hands together like he was praying, and said, “Maybe you’ll get extra credit if you go find him?”
She rolled her eyes so hard I swear I felt it from down the hall. She stood up with that chair-scrape that said I’m only doing this because I have to, then walked out.
I was speed-walking down the hallway like a wanted man. Sweating buckets. Shirt untucked. Hands trembling like I was barely holding back a panic attack—because, newsflash, I was. All I wanted was to get out. Out of the building. Out of this air. Out of my own head.
Just a few more feet and I was gone—when BAM! I slammed right into her.
“Aye!” Jasmine shouted, stepping back.
I jumped like I’d seen a ghost. “Oh my God! Why are you everywhere?!”
She popped out like a side quest I didn’t accept.
“Because the teacher sent me to find your runaway little self,” she said, arms crossed. “Where you think you goin’?”
“I don’t wanna talk, Jasmine. Please. Just leave me alone.”
I tried to move past her, but she grabbed my wrist. Bad move. Physical contact? Definitely not what I needed right now.
“Your hands are shaking,” she said softly, eyes scanning my face. “You look… pale. You good?”
No. No, I was not good. I looked like someone who just saw a ghost get eaten by a bigger ghost.
“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Class almost over, huh? I'm not goin’ back.”
I kept walking. She followed me, footsteps quick.
“Wait!” she shouted, catching up.
She grabbed my arm this time. Firm grip. Real panic behind her voice.
“You seriously ditchin’? What’s wrong with you?”
I yanked my arm—too hard. Accidentally pulled her toward me. Suddenly she was right in front of me, standing like a traffic stop full of feelings.
Her voice shook with more than anger.
“Don’t play with me, Han,” she said, shaky and mad. “I didn’t even want to come down this hallway. I didn’t wanna see your face again after what you said in that bathroom.”
Her voice cracked.
“But you better tell me what the freak is goin’ on!”
That hit me in the chest. I looked at her—really looked. She wasn’t just mad. She was scared.
“...You’re not crazy, Jane,” I said, voice low.
She froze.
I glanced around. Felt something watching. Leaned in.
“I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
She stopped breathing.
“…What?” she whispered.
“What you saw—your mom turning into that eight-legged freak?” I said. “That ain’t the first time I seen something like that.”
I leaned in closer.
“I see that kinda stuff… every day.”
Her whole body tensed. She looked like she wanted to scream, panic, like I made what she saw more realer than she hoped.
“Demons. Frog people. Ifrits. Skinwalkers. You name it,” I said.
My jaw locked. I looked away, chest tight.
“What I saw today—before we even got on the bus…” I swallowed. “That thing in the liquor store? Me and Marcus smelled something—like rot and battery acid—but I kept quiet.”
I shook my head.
“That man that walked in with us—he wasn’t right, Jasmine. I saw him cough up some goop. It was burnin’ his hands.”
“Oh my God…” she breathed, horrified.
“Every time I see one, I grab who I can and dip,” I told her. “But today?”
I nodded toward the boys' bathroom.
“There’s something in here. In this school. It’s not a person. Not something you can punch. Not something you can even scream at.”
My hands were trembling again.
She reached out. Grabbed them. Her grip was firm. Steady.
“There’s a guy,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “Dead. In the bathroom.”
And right when I said it—
“Miss Reyes!”
The teacher’s voice snapped down the hall like a whip crack.
We both flinched like we’d just been caught robbing a grave. My stomach dropped.
Then—8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡExymGMk20a
The scream.
High-pitched. Raw.
It came from farther down the corridor.
A freshman stood frozen in front of the boys’ bathroom. Not moving. Not blinking. His eyes were wide, glassy, his mouth stuck open in a silent scream like his voice had short-circuited. One arm pointed stiffly at the door—just pointed, like his body was stuck in one frame of a horror film. His backpack hung off one shoulder, dangling like he’d forgotten he was even wearing it.
Then—
THUMP.
A sickening, wet, meaty sound—like someone dropped a soaked duffel bag onto tile.
I felt it hit me in the ribs. In the soul.
Something had fallen.
Something real.
Something human.
“Back up! Move—MOVE!”
Footsteps thundered down the hallway. A security officer rounded the corner at full speed, walkie crackling from his chest. Mr. Kent, the assistant principal, was right behind him, pushing through the scattering students as more doors opened and confused heads peeked out into the corridor.
“What’s going on?!” Kent demanded.
The freshman didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mouth trembled, his eyes locked on the bathroom door like it was a gateway to Hell.
The security guard stepped in first. Slowly. His hand hovered over his belt—not a gun, just a radio, but it felt like the hallway held its breath anyway.
He vanished behind the bathroom door.
A second later—
“JESUS—NO! NURSE! CALL THE NURSE—AND—GET ME THE DANG—LOCKDOWN CODE TWO!” he barked into his radio.
Kent shoved the door open farther—then stumbled back like he’d been punched in the gut. His clipboard slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. He turned sideways, gagged violently, and slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Oh my God…”
And then a voice—shaky, spiraling—came from farther down the hall.
“Is that—”
A girl. Maybe a sophomore. Wide-eyed. She sprinted down the hallway with her phone in hand, ignoring the teacher yelling behind her to stop. She shoved past Kent and looked into the bathroom—
“NO—NO! THAT’S RAY! THAT’S RAY, THAT’S—”8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0oT5WX7R8G
She collapsed to her knees, sobbing so hard it sounded like her lungs were tearing open.
The janitor—the one who’d been in there earlier—stumbled over, pale and shaking.
“I—I just walked in,” he stammered to the officer. “I swear, I just walked in—I thought I heard someone throw up—I didn’t touch anything—I didn’t do nothin’—he was just there—like somebody put him there—on purpose—his face—his face—”
“Sir, I need you to step back,” the guard said, pulling him away.
The hallway exploded in noise—teachers shouting, students crowding, doors slamming shut, that girl screaming like her soul had shattered on tile.
Every instinct in me screamed to run.
Jasmine clutched my wrist, nails digging into my skin. “Han.”
I looked at her.
Her lips barely moved.
“We gotta go.”
I nodded. “Now.”
And we ran.
Through the chaos.
Through the screams and sirens and radios squawking codes we didn’t understand.
We didn’t look back.
ns3.22.63.154da2
