Ariella was looking forward to her school year more than she ever had before.
She quite liked Gates Mill University—but this year, she’d be attending her major with all of her friends. After a couple days of shopping for all her school supplies, she was delighted to leave for her first day back to school; she gave Vance a tight embrace, kissed him goodbye on the cheek, and left the house at sunrise.
For the first time in weeks, her troubling thoughts about Joseph’s murder were finally gone from her mind; she and her friends had a great plan to make a new club in school for their podcast, and Ariella really loved the idea of taking a class as fascinating as psychology, especially with Arkus and the others by her side. This year would be an absolute blast—and she wouldn’t let anything ruin it. Nothing would force her to hide away from the world and dwell in moody depressions again. Despite the recent horror she witnessed and the frantic serial-killer gossip sweeping the town, Ariella was positively certain that things were—for her—finally looking up.
When Arkus’s black pickup truck rolled down the road, Tammy was driving once again, and the music blared from the windows as always. Ariella gladly leaped into the back of the truck with her friends, and they all sped off to the school. The early autumn breeze swept over the vehicle as it coasted off to the north side of Gates Mill, and she smiled gleefully as she watched the world fly by, the cool mild air making her hair dance about.
When they arrived at the school, Ariella was the first to grab her overstuffed backpack and leap out of the truck’s bed. She grouped with her friends on the expansive parking lot, gazing up at the school and seeing that numerous other students were marching inside.
The building of Gates Mill University seemed almost Roman in its design, two great pillars arising at either side of the wide walkway leading to the front doors of the main building. A decorative archway hovered over the walkway, fancy letters reading GATES MILL UNIVERSITY etched in massive writing along the archway above. The building had numerous wings—several tall segments of the university visible far across the landscape, most of them between three and six floors high. Ariella’s favorite parts of the architecture were the bridge-like walkways; some of the taller buildings had elongated bridges spanning from one to another, enclosed with glass walls and ceilings. All the people walking along the bridges were perfectly visible from the parking lot, and Ariella beamed up at them, remembering the fantastic view from the glass bridges of the buildings and thinking of all the greatest places inside—the enormous mess hall, the theater, the gyms, the giant football stadium, and the wide-open spaces amidst the property, filled with open fields, walkways, picnic tables, woods, ponds, and fountains. She found it all wonderful before—but now that she had a gang of close friends, every experience here would be ten times better.
“God… I forgot how damn big this place was,” Tammy sighed, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “I’m gonna end up getting lost every other day again…”
“Well… get a map,” Zane said caustically.
“Oh my God, Tammy—we have to go see the clubs list right now!” Lucy yelled excitedly, grabbing Tammy’s arm and jumping in place. “Me and you and Ari—we should all pick a girly club together!”
Tammy laughed sarcastically, raising her brows and shaking her head. She yanked out of Lucy’s grasp. “Nope. No thanks. I’d rather do something artsy. Or violent. I like violent.”
“Nonono—hey—your time is spoken for,” Jaxson said directly, jabbing a finger at the girls. “We have a podcast club to reestablish. That’s priority one.”
“Yeah. A murder-themed podcast—I actually like that idea,” Zane remarked.
“Man. I wish Julian was enrolled here,” Arkus mumbled, staring up at the main building. “If he was here, we’d have the whole gang together for the podcast… and for the party-time fun.”
The others nodded in agreement, all except for Ariella, who had never heard of Julian before. She gave Arkus a questioning look.
“Our youth pastor,” Arkus explained. “He runs the youth wing of our church on Thursdays. It’s not like it sounds, though—the youth wing is more like a club than a church. It’s a party place.”
“Yeah… you’ll like Julian,” Tammy smirked. “He’s only a couple years older than us. Not really what you’d expect in a pastor.”
“Oh!” Lucy smiled, turning to Ariella. “That’s right, you haven’t met Julian yet! Oooh man, we gotta take you to the church Thursday!”
“Okay, okay,” Ariella chuckled breathlessly. “I’m on board for that.”
Lucy punched the air with glee, her pink ponytail whipping around as she faced Zane again, grabbing his arm and practically dangling off of it.
Zane rolled his eyes and groaned, looking to Ariella for help.
“Ari. Help,” he said, nodding down at the girl hanging off him. “Get this off me.”
Ariella laughed.
“Okay—before we do anything, we need to get settled in our dorms,” Tammy stated. “Ari and Arkus are the only ones who aren’t gonna live on campus, but the rest of us need to unpack. Psychology class doesn’t start until after lunch, so I think we’re good on time.”
“We’re not gonna go to the opening assembly?” Lucy pouted.
“ God , no,” Tammy scoffed with a laugh. “I’ve been to two opening assemblies here and they both made me wanna sleep until I’m dead. Boring as hell. No thanks.”
“Yeah, seriously… Dean Henderson takes two hours to say one thing in a million different fucking ways,” Jaxson agreed. “I swear to God… the longer you listen to him talk, the more you can actually see his freaking nose hairs growing.”
“Oh my God,” Tammy breathed, staring down at her phone and suddenly frowning.
Everyone turned to her.
“What? What’s wrong?” Ariella asked her.
“Maria just texted me,” Tammy exhaled, giving Ariella a worried stare. “She says me and her ended up being roommates. I’m gonna be sharing a dorm room with her…”
“Oh man,” Lucy pouted. “She’s gonna bug you about joining her sorority all the time. It’s gonna be impossible to dodge her now.”
“Eh. Well…” Tammy shrugged and pocketed her phone. “I’m not that easy to convince. Like I said—if she bugs me too much, she can eat her teeth.”
Many of them snickered at hearing this. Ariella turned to Arkus, expecting to see him laugh, but she was surprised to see that he was standing several feet away now, glaring down at his own phone and frowning heavily.
“Hey,” Ariella said, lowering her voice and approaching him. “What’s wrong?”
Arkus sighed and stuffed the phone away. “Nothing. My dad’s just…”
He paused, staring off to the side and looking incredibly distant.
“Nothing. Nothing… doesn’t matter. Let’s go,” Arkus dismissed, shaking his head and rejoining the group.
Ariella stared after him for a moment, feeling a pinch of worry. But, she shook it off and joined her friends, and all of them marched toward the school together.
The rest of the morning was spent walking down various hallways, climbing staircases, and visiting dorm rooms—which were inconveniently placed nowhere near each other. The boys’ dorms were closest, so they spent some time wandering the building and searching for rooms 43 and 14, the two assigned to Jaxson and Zane. They passed by numerous other college-aged guys carrying their belongings to their rooms, some loners while others roughhoused together up and down the hallways, carrying football gear and occasionally tackling one another, their yells echoing throughout the halls and the lobby downstairs. Zane’s roommate was a quiet type who unpacked silently on his side of the room without saying a word. So, Zane merely dropped his belongings on the bed and marched off. Afterward, they all ventured up to the fourth floor, squeezing around passersby until they found room 43, which was in the far right corner.
Jaxson was the first to peek in, the others hovering close behind. Like Zane’s room, it was of average size with a single bed to the left, his roommate’s bed to the right, two nightstands stationed beside each one, and a single TV on the wall facing the beds.
Jaxson spotted his roommate instantly—and he paused, staring at the guy in disbelief.
A tall, muscular man stood over the right bed, his mattress covered with football attire and text books, his back facing the doorway. The guy had short black hair, all except his bangs, which were dangling loosely over his forehead in a smooth, stylish way. He turned and eyed the new arrivals, revealing a chiseled jaw and a pair of bright green eyes.
Jaxson and Tammy entered first, the two of them surprised to see the guy. When Ariella and the others walked in, they glanced between their friends and the football player, looking lost.
“Richard,” Tammy uttered without thinking, sparing him a brief wave. “Hey.”
The football player named Richard nodded at her.
Jaxson and Arkus stared at Richard for a moment, Arkus fighting the urge to smile.
“So you’re… you’re Richard. Richard Hurts ,” Arkus said, his tone giving a slight shake, as he was forcing down laughter.
“Yeah,” Richard replied vacantly. “Who’re you?”
“Ahm… this is your new roommate,” Arkus informed, patting Jaxson’s back. “Jax.”
“Oh… cool,” Richard said disinterestedly, turning back to his belongings.
Ariella and her friends traded glimpses.
Jaxson narrowed his eyes at Richard from behind. Tammy did the same, though unlike Jaxson, she was wearing a faint, unwitting smile.
“Oy—ah—just outta curiosity,” Arkus said, stepping forward and raising a finger. “Richard, do you have a nickname?”
“No,” Richard replied without turning around.
“Really,” Arkus uttered. “So… nobody ever calls you Dick Hur —”
Tammy smacked him hard on the arm, making him wince and fall silent.
“Hey, I don’t know if you remember, but… we met at a party last year,” Tammy told Richard. “We were both kinda wasted. It was that big keg party right before Christmas.”
Richard turned halfway, perking his brow at her. He scanned her up and down, then flashed a charming half-smile. “Oh yeah… yeah, I remember you.”
Tammy released a breathless laugh “Cool. Well… my friend ended up being your roommate, so… we could all hang out sometime, if you want.”
Richard smirked and nodded at her, his eyes venturing across the others and his smile waning.
Ariella noticed, but chose not to say anything. She glimpsed over at Jaxson, whose stare was oddly fixated on Richard, his expression uncharacteristically deadpan. Zane and Lucy—who were standing farther away than everyone else, lingering in the doorway—exchanged subtle glimpses. Then, Lucy stood on her toes and whispered into Zane’s ear.
“Jax is about to have a stroke,” she murmured softly.
Zane repressed a choking laugh. “No shit. He hates being in Tammy’s friend zone, and now his roommate is the Chad Tammy’s slobbering all over. This shit is like a sitcom.”
“Yeah, cool, we’re here—we all met—that’s nice, all done,” Jaxson said suddenly, plastering on a smile. “We can go now. C’mon.”
He tossed his bags onto his bed, spun around, and clapped twice, motioning for his friends to follow. They all marched out of the room, Ariella and Arkus swapping glances as they trailed at the back of the group.
For the next hour or so, Jaxson was oddly silent—and for a brief time, Arkus was as well.
As they walked, Arkus was repeatedly checking his phone, and Tammy and Lucy laughed and gossiped together, not noticing that Arkus and Jaxson were fairly distracted. Zane didn’t notice, either—as he was playing games on his phone—but Ariella was eyeing Arkus and Jaxson intently for a while, at least until their moods seemed to lighten later in the day.
When they arrived in the girls’ dorms, Lucy broke away from the group, dragging Zane away and heading off to find her own room. Ariella, Arkus, Tammy, and Jaxson took the elevator from the lobby, reaching the third floor where Tammy’s room was. Unlike the boys’ dorms, these hallways seemed less messy, though they were just as loud. Girls carrying belongings squeezed past them a couple times, and many of the rooms were filled with ambient chatter or laughter.
Tammy stopped at the second room to the right, pushing the door open and peeking inside cautiously. The rooms were designed the same as the boys’ rooms, but half of this room was already heavily decorated; band posters, pink décor, stuffed animals, a dry erase board, and a goal chart covered the left half of the room, where a thin dark-haired girl was tastefully decorating her computer desk.
The dark-haired girl—Maria—spun around and beamed at the sight of her roommate.
Tammy almost cringed.
Maria let out a shrieking scream of excitement, jumping and yanking her into a hug. Tammy reluctantly returned it, Ariella, Arkus, and Jaxson glimpsing at one another and smirking in amusement.
“Oh my God , Tammy!” Maria beamed. “I’m so happy you’re gonna be my roommate! We are gonna have so much fun—oh, oh, oh—I can make you your own goal chart! We can color-code it like mine!”
“Oh. Goodie,” Tammy smiled emptily. “Yeah, that… that’s sick…”
“Sooo—are we gonna take a stroll out to the chapter house?” Maria said hopefully, gently poking Tammy’s side. “Alpha Delta Pi sits ready and waiting for a fierce new sister.”
“Damn… it only took you about ten seconds to bring up the sorority. You’re slipping,” Tammy snarked. “Why the hell is it called Alpha Delta Pi, anyway?”
“Oh—it’s named after the very first sorority that was founded in the eighteen-hundreds,” Maria yammered. “In fact—”
“No—stop,” Tammy cut her off, waving her down. “My bad. I don’t actually care. I thought you’d be living in the sorority house again?”
Maria fidgeted cutely in her stance, making a zipper motion along her lips. “Keep this on the hush-hush, but… I’m on rush duty. I’m a recruiter. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Oh God…” Tammy hung her head for a moment, then flashed her fake smile again. “Okay… you’re not gonna be bugging everyone about joining Alpha Deli-hole whatever, are you?”
“Oh, no, no—it’s a very subtle job,” Maria told her. “I can be open with you, since you’re my friend—but other people, I have to be reeeally super tactful with. Can’t put too much pressure on people, y’know.”
“Yeah… God forbid,” Tammy sighed. “Okay, well… me and my other friends are gonna head to lunch. We have a class at two today, so we gotta get going. I’ll unpack later.”
“Oh, cool. I’ll help you,” Maria grinned. “Our year-long slumber party starts tonight!”
Tammy slowly nodded, barely managing to maintain her dying smile. “Goooood. Bye now.”
“Okay—oh, and you—Ariella, right?” Maria said, scooting past Tammy and offering her hand to Ariella. “We haven’t really spoken much. Nice to actually meet you.”
“You too,” Ariella replied politely, returning her handshake and praying that she wouldn’t be pressured in the same way as Tammy.
“Seeya, Maria,” Tammy dismissed, waving and hurrying out of the room.
Her friends were quick to follow her. None of them spoke until they were safely outside, marching down one of the many concrete pathways that stretched across the fields. Then, their smiles widened, and they all began to snicker.
“Oh my God , she’s gonna make me put a bullet in my head…” Tammy grumbled, digging her fingers into her temples. “She’s nice… she’s so nice… but God , it’s suffocating…”
“Oy… I got an idea,” Arkus smirked devilishly, leaping forward and placing his hands on Tammy and Jaxson’s shoulders, walking in between them both. He glanced between them, his smile seeming to grow. “Since Tammy’s roommate is a crazy annoying cultist… how ‘bout Tammy just spends the night in Jax’s room whenever possible? She could break away from all the nagging, spend some time with her best friend… and she can ogle that eye-candy that’s living in that little walk-in closet they’re trying to pass off as a room.”
“Dude—I could get in trouble for that,” Jaxson griped.
“So what? It’s college—they expect guys and girls to shack up in here,” Arkus chuckled, giving him a light shake. “What’s the problem? It’ll be like a sleepover.”
“Or a love triangle,” Ariella murmured to herself.
“Oh, man, Jax… can I really come over to your room sometimes?” Tammy begged, grabbing his arm and giving him a pleading sort of look. “That’s a really good idea. Maria is gonna drive me up the freaking wall if I can’t get away from her.”
Jaxson gaped at her for a moment, sighing deeply. “Yeah, fine, whatever… just don’t drool all over Richard whenever you’re there. I don’t wanna be your third wheel. That kind of shit makes me uncomfortable.”
“And awkward as hell,” Arkus laughed, slapping his back.
“Shut up,” Jaxson griped.
“You guys… we lost Zane and Lucy,” Ariella pointed out.
“They’re probably still unpacking Lucy’s room. Either that, or Zane’s trying to hang himself from the balcony in the lobby,” Jaxson remarked.
Tammy giggled and nodded. “Yeah—Lucy’s probably trying to pin him down on her new bed right now.”
“God blind me, that girl’s desperate,” Arkus commented. “I love her to death, but damn—she can’t take a hint to save her life.”
“What’s the deal with them, anyway?” Ariella asked curiously.
Ever since she met this group, she’d been wondering what the situation was between Zane and Lucy, but there never seemed to be a good opportunity to ask until now.
“Basically… Lucy is insanely in love with Zane, and Zane doesn’t feel the same way,” Tammy surmised. “That’s how it’s been forever.”
Ariella stared at her. “Well, that’s… sad…”
“Yeah… I always thought the same thing,” Tammy shrugged. “But we got used to it. I’ve tried talking to her about this a million times. I’ve told her to get out, and I told her she’s wasting all her time and energy… but it never sank in. She just wants to keep trying until Zane gives in.”
“Lucy’s really naïve,” Jaxson added. “She honestly thinks she’s gonna have one of those happy rom-com endings if she keeps chipping away at Zane.”
“Aye… and, since convincing her otherwise never worked, we all decided we’re just gonna be there to pick up the pieces and comfort her when she finally realizes it’s not gonna happen,” Arkus told Ariella. “We’re basically just waiting for that dam inside her head to break.”
Ariella slowly nodded, staring down at her feet as they all walked toward the mess hall. She ended up lagging at the back of the group, pondering on Lucy’s predicament and frowning, feeling a pinch of empathy for her.
Then, Ariella’s eyes ventured up to Arkus, staring into the back of his messy brown fohawk.
She couldn’t imagine how terrible it would feel when Lucy eventually realized her love wouldn’t be returned. Ariella had a crush of her own, after all. Perhaps she’d face the same problem someday.
Arkus glanced back at her, making her heart skip.
“Why’re you falling behind?” he asked, waving for her to rejoin them. “C’mon. I wanna get to the sushi before all the rich frat boys clean ‘em out.”
Ariella breathed out a laugh, jogging forward and regrouping with her friends.
The four of them entered the gigantic mess hall—a huge, spacious room that was as tall as it was wide, circular with glass walls facing the east side of the property. The place was positively packed, and unlike any middle or high school, there were several lunch lines—some with burgers and hotdogs, some with packaged meals like salads and sushi, and some filled with pizza and pastas of numerous kinds. Between the many lines were various vending machines, as well as countertops with fountain drinks, coffees, and more. The group fought their way to the front of the closest line—Arkus and Tammy taking the lead, neither of them too shy to shove or elbow their competition. The four of them gathered in a booth along the walls after collecting their food, enjoying a long, peaceful lunch with conversation. And later—when it was nearly two o’clock—they tossed their trash in the nearest bin and headed off.
After a while of searching, they found the building containing the psychology class. The building was a roundish one on the far south side of the extensive property, and it had a wide walkway leading up to an elegant pair of double-doors. The inside contained a lobby with a lush blue rug, and past it were four different hallways. The lobby was decorated with a few glass cases of trophies and other prizes won by the most prolific students who once attended the classes of the health wing. The hallways had serene, calming paintings along every wall, and Tammy led everyone to the third door down, reading her class list and matching the number of the psychology class to the one on the wall.
Ariella and Tammy both slowed to a stop, Arkus and Jaxson doing the same just behind the girls. All four of them ogled the inside of the classroom in surprise.
This wasn’t a room any of them expected. It was a massive room with rows of chairs and round, stationary tables extending at an upward slope off to the left, the front desk and the wall immediately right. It was structured like many college rooms, but the décor set this room apart; every elongated table was wrapped around a wide open space surrounding the professor’s desk. The desk was covered with a computer, papers, books, a globe that had been colored on, and a shrunken head positioned to face the class. The chalkboard behind the desk displayed letters in sharp and crooked handwriting, reading PROFESSOR RODNEY , and all around the chalkboard were several tiny flags hanging in numerous rows that covered the entire wall, one flag for every country in the world. But the walls contained even more strange decorations—furs, animal heads, charts of the human brain, maps with color-coded circles around particular regions, newspapers of dramatic stories from across America, and strangest of all, a katana sword was perched perfectly at the top of the chalkboard, just beneath the TV and safe inside its smooth black scabbard.
“Oh… my good God,” Tammy murmured, her eyes shifting around the room warily. “We’re in for a weird year…”
Ariella, Arkus, and Jaxson were all grinning.
“This is awesome,” Ariella exhaled.
“This is weirder than the drama room,” Jaxson laughed.
“I love this country,” Arkus marveled.
Students were gathering from the rear entrance as well, a few of them settling into their seats, some sitting alone and others breaking off with their friends. Zane and Lucy were seated in the far back corner, and Arkus smiled, sauntering past his friends and marching off to claim the front row. He, Ariella, Jaxson, and Tammy sank into the row nearest the desk—and Ariella stared forward, sliding her backpack off and eyeing the teacher before her.
The man behind the desk was an older gentleman, slender and comfortable as he leaned back in his large leather chair, his feet propped onto the desk. He had sandy, slicked-back hairs that seemed to be half-graying silver, a sharp V-shaped hairline and a slender face, a small patch of hair just beneath his lower lip. His brows were arched, his thoughtful blue eyes fixated on the newspaper he was reading, gazing down at it from behind his thin glasses—but the strangest thing about him was his attire. He wore black pants, a navy blue button-up, and a peculiar fur vest overtop of it, a watch and a few strange bracelets along his wrists, and a couple of large rings on his fingers. This man—Rodney—didn’t pay the class any mind until the final student arrived. Once everyone was seated, his eyes finally wandered up from his paper.
Everything was quiet, save for a few of the farther groups whispering to one another, many of them motioning to the decorations and trading gossip about the odd room around them. The professor didn’t move yet, merely eyeing the students above the edge of his newspaper, his gaze traveling from person to person.
Then, Rodney’s stare landed on Ariella for a moment—and Arkus broke the silence.
“Oy!” Arkus yelled, leaning forward on the table and nodding at the professor. “You ever gonna say anything, Rodney Dangerfield?”
Rodney’s eyes narrowed at him. He slowly reached his feet, tossing the paper aside and moving around his desk.
“I don’t know, Scotty ,” Rodney uttered, his voice thin and raspy. “Are you gonna be loud and belligerent just like the rest of Scotland all school year?”
Tammy and Jaxson exploded with laughter, as did many other students across the enormous room. Ariella giggled and covered her mouth, Arkus smirking at the professor in astonishment.
“Oh… good… we got a cool teacher,” Arkus muttered.
“Hey buddy!” Zane called out from the corner of the room, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I’m just gonna ask—why the hell does this room look like a geography class for the insane?”
Many of the students snickered, and the professor pocketed his hands into his vest, flashing a small half-smile.
“Wendigo Psychosis,” Rodney said forwardly, jabbing a finger at Zane from across the room. “I’ll give you ten bucks right now if you can tell me what that is.”
The chuckles suddenly died down, and many eyes shifted over to the corner where Zane sat. Zane simply stared at Rodney vacantly for a moment. After a few seconds of thought, he gave the professor a shrug.
“That’s what I thought,” Rodney smirked and snapped his fingers, meandering closer to the students. “Roughly fifty percent of a person’s psychological makeup comes from their environment—and some cultures around the world even have their own specific mental disorders. Can anyone tell me what Wendigo Psychosis is?”
“Cannibals,” Ariella said without thinking.
Rodney, Arkus, and everyone else in the room suddenly turned to her.
“Um… I just… heard about it once,” Ariella continued. “Wendigo Psychosis is a Native American disorder where a person craves human flesh… and it was believed that the people craving human meat were possessed by the wendigo.”
Rodney gave her an approving nod. “Very good. How’d you know that?”
“My dad told me about it a long time ago,” Ariella replied. “He studies a lot of psychology and sociology in his downtime.”
“Ah,” Rodney slowly nodded, eyeing her curiously, then turning to face the other students again. “And to contrast that point… did you know most developing countries have never even heard of our number-one mental disorder here in America?”
“What, drinking?” a jock yelled from the back, warranting more laughter.
“Close,” Rodney responded. “Depression. Developing countries often have no concept of post-partum depression, or clinical depression, or any sort of suicide epidemic. It’s curious that our most prosperous countries in the world are also the only ones suffering from widespread depression and suicide problems. Psychology has a lot to do with culture in many cases—thus, the room you see around you.”
“Okay, so like… you made this room weird as shit because different countries are different kinds of crazy?” a blonde girl griped from the third row, she and her friends shooting the professor caustic expressions. “That sounds dumb.”
“Okay, Karen,” Rodney snarked with a grin, holding up an OK hand sign.
“My name is Tiffany ,” the blonde growled.
“All right, well, Tiffany—you’re being a Karen. You know what a Karen is?” Rodney asked, many of the students covering their mouths and laughing madly. “It’s the way your generation characterizes personality disorders. It’s what you call a person who’s an insufferable attention-seeker. In my profession, we call it Histrionic Personality Disorder—but in your language, you’d just be called a Karen. So—nice to meet you, Tiffany—but don’t be a Karen in my class.”
At once, the entire room was filled with chortles, numerous people slapping their tables and suffocating with laughter. Arkus, Jaxson, Tammy, and Ariella were all trading beaming grins and high-fives, snickering breathlessly and nodding in approval of their new professor.
“Which… incidentally… brings me to another point,” Rodney announced loudly, raising his finger and pacing slowly in front of his class. “Who here has Netflix?”
Nearly every hand in the classroom raised.
“A certain comedian did a special on Netflix… and he had a fairly fitting name for your generation,” Rodney informed, everyone’s voices dying down, most of them now listening intently. “He calls this generation the age of spin… when there’s so much going on, and you’re all bombarded by so much news, and media, and politics, and social issues… that you don’t even know what’s going on. You can’t possibly keep up with every huge issue our society has and every controversial problem exploding all over social media every day. You can’t wrap your mind around every tragedy that happens and every terrible thing that shows up on your phones on a seemingly constant basis. It’s enough to make anyone’s head spin. Thus, the age of spin. People aren’t equipped to deal with such an overwhelming explosion of information all at once. So, this leaves an entire generation of people overwhelmed, rattled, shocked, and confused… and what does a person do when they’re too overwhelmed to cope?”
The students all exchanged thoughtful glances.
Ariella gently cupped her hands, staring down at them and thinking of her father once again.
“Dissociate,” she murmured quietly.
Rodney’s eyes flickered over to her, slowly raising his finger. “Say again.”
“Um… dissociate,” Ariella repeated, trying to strengthen her voice. “It’s a coping mechanism. When people get shocked and overwhelmed, their mind checks out. They shut down and block everything out. It’s not something you can really control, either. It just happens. People get detached and defensive on instinct.”
“That’s right,” Rodney remarked. “Which, in our society, is rampant in its severity. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t hate technology—but I certainly believe we’re overusing it, and we’re also far too reliant on the news and social media. It does wonders for your mental wellbeing to take a break from all of that. Just the occasional TV show is enough for me. Too much is bad… because… listen to me when I tell you.”
Rodney’s voice took on a lower tone, his eyes shifting between his students as he easefully paced before them. Every student fell silent, every expression intense and attentive, as an air of seriousness slowly began to spread amidst the classroom’s atmosphere.
“The more you’re forced to absorb, the less you’re able to process,” Rodney told them all. “Think of every tragic story on the news, every scary thing they broadcast to get a reaction out of us—think of all the controversy and death that pops up on the news, on social media, and everywhere else we look these days. Nobody on the planet has enough mental capacity to care about every single tragedy all at once—so, you become desensitized. You dissociate, your mind ‘switches off,’ and you move on autopilot just to get through the day. And the same… the same can be said for real life, too.”
Rodney glanced up at the back rows, then at Ariella, then the students to his right. He sighed, stopped pacing, and faced them all fully.
“The more horrors you see in your waking life, the less you’ll be able to process them,” Rodney stated. “Dysfunction, trauma… and death. If you become used to it, you become numb to it. Your mind learns that dissociation is the way to manage the problems that are too big to solve. That’s precisely why dissociative disorders exist. And that’s why… people with disorders like this are so difficult to treat. Because they’ve forgotten how to process things properly—or, in some cases, they never learned to in the first place. In some cases… the world never gave ‘em a chance. But, I’m getting off track. The point is… I don’t want anyone in my class being distracted by that constant societal bombardment.”
He moved smoothly closer, slowing his voice and motioning to many of the students.
“When you’re in my classroom, no phones, and no laptops. Everything is turned off… and we all… just… talk. You hear?”
Most of the students nodded.
“The first time I see you using a phone, or a tablet, or a laptop… I’m keeping it until the end of the day,” Rodney said firmly. “And the second time, I’m keeping it until the end of the week. But the third time…”
He smirked mischievously, sliding behind his desk and carefully stepping onto his leather chair. He pulled the shiny katana from its scabbard, twirling the sword around once before leaping down—he jumped briskly from his chair with the agility of a man half his age, planting the sword firmly into his desk and making a few of the students jump.
“Your tech will die a horrible death right here,” Rodney sneered, releasing the sword, and it remained stabbed perfectly into the desk before him. “Now, believe you me… there will be no fourth time.”
“That cannot be legal,” Tiffany snarled. “You can’t take our stuff. This isn’t high school. And you definitely can’t have a real sword in here!”
“It’s decorative. It’s legal if it’s decorative—shut up,” Rodney replied quickly, making numerous students chuckle. “My point is simple. I don’t want anyone getting distracted by the bells and whistles of the age of spin—at least not while you’re in my class. This is a place where we clear our heads of all the normalized insanity out there. If you’d rather be on your phone, go right ahead, but don’t bother coming to this class. I’m not one of those professors who gives you the assignments and lets you do whatever you want. I am a hands-on teacher. I plan to invest time and attention into every single one of you—and if you don’t like that, you might as well drop this class right now. All right? There’s your warning. Take it to heart, because you’re not getting another one. Any takers? Speak up now.”
There was a pause, during which Rodney raised his arched brows expectantly, scanning over the students and waiting for any of them to stand. None of them moved to leave the classroom.
“Good,” Rodney disclosed. “Now… just so you know, I do have a structure of curriculum I have to abide by to some degree, but I make my own lessons, and I can distribute them in any order I please. I also reserve the right to make some of my lessons into verbal ones—which means more fun for me and less work for you. Believe me, we will all prefer the verbal lessons—but if anyone acts out, you’ll be sent away to write me a twenty-page essay while the rest of us talk our lessons away. Technically, I have a couple of days before I have to start pumping out work assignments—but that doesn’t mean we’re just gonna sit here and wait for our first day to end. We’re gonna talk, we’re gonna learn, we’re gonna trade ideas, and we’re gonna get into the habit of doing so routinely—because that’s how my class works. So, with that in mind… does anyone have any general questions about psychology?”
Everyone fell silent for a moment, many students trading hesitant glimpses.
Then, Jaxson scooted closer to the table of the front row loudly, leaning on it and raising his hand high.
Rodney gave him a nod.
“Okay, so… everything you said about the age of spin,” Jaxson began. “Being bombarded by too much news and media, and everyone being too overwhelmed to think… does that mean we should be discouraged from pursuing our own media goals?”
The entire classroom paused again, Rodney giving Jaxson a long, thoughtful stare.
“Well… quite honestly, that’s a subjective moral question… but, in my opinion, it depends on what you’ll be doing and how often you’ll be doing it,” Rodney answered. “The mainstream media is not what it used to be. It’s not a simple medium for the people to speak anymore. The mainstream media in this country is one big powerhouse of manipulative storytelling, and sometimes, fear-mongering. They often leave out large portions and crucial facts of the stories they’re covering, which sends an incorrect message to the people. However… I believe smaller outlets of media are vital to keep people truly informed. Smaller media outlets—the ones without any heavy biases—are the ones who more often cover all the facts and present them openly to the people. In plain terms, they’re usually the ones telling something closer to the full truth—unless it’s one of those crappy magazines with photo-shopped pictures of alien cats on the cover. But that doesn’t count as media… not to me… ahh, that’s just cheap propaganda…”
“So… if we don’t manipulate the message, then it’s all good?” Jaxson tried to confirm. “Okay, I have another question. Does it count as fear-mongering if you’re just telling the blatant truth, but the truth itself just happens to be really scary?”
“No,” Rodney told him. “Granted, that level of honesty is potentially dangerous because it could cause people to panic—but that’s not purposeful, therefore, it’s not fear-mongering. That’s just telling the ugly truth.”
“Okay, so… hypothetically, if we wanted to start a podcast about the Cutthroat Killer, could we do that without adding to the whole age-of-spin problem?” Jaxson inquired.
Instantly, the entire room fell deathly silent—a thicker quietness than all the pauses before.
Jaxson leaned over the table with crossed arms, perking his thick brows curiously at Rodney.
Arkus and Ariella spared Jaxson a deep stare, and Tammy—sitting on Jaxson’s other side—glanced thoughtfully between him and the professor. Zane and Lucy—far across the room—exchanged deep looks with one another as the mood of the room seemed to intensify.
Rodney’s gaze appeared oddly vacant now, his eyes icier as they fixated on Jaxson.
Ariella examined the look on the professor’s face, thinking that Rodney seemed to be pondering much too hard on the question. But, seconds later, Rodney’s brows raised again, and he gave Jaxson a simple nod.
“You could,” Rodney finally replied. “So long as you keep your facts straight. Although… I have to say…”
He inched steadily closer to Jaxson, Arkus, Ariella, and Tammy, standing just before their table and staring down at them intently.
“If you cover a killer who’s at large… and you really do your research,” Rodney exhaled, his voice softening into a low, serious one. “And you make absolutely sure to present every single fact as truthfully as you possibly can… then it’s possible that our killer might not look too favorably on you. He clearly doesn’t wanna be caught… and you’d be spreading information about him all over the world. You better think about that… and think real hard.”
Ariella and her friends gazed up at him, reading the intense expression on his face now. Seconds later, Jaxson let out a breathless laugh.
“He’s not gonna come after us,” Jaxson said ridiculously.
Rodney’s visage hardened into a face of total severity, his eyes locked on Jaxson, not blinking.
Ariella and Arkus glimpsed at one another warily, Tammy and Jaxson staring up at the professor and feeling uncomfortable, almost as if Rodney’s eyes were burning holes directly through them.
Once the uneasy moment passed by, Rodney spun on his heel and returned to his desk, speaking to the classroom again and changing the subject. Ariella and Arkus shared another look, Arkus making a ‘crazy’ motion with his finger.
For a long while thereafter, Rodney and the class spoke to one another, and the windows on the far wall showed a brilliant afternoon sun beginning to weaken on the Texas horizon. When the class ended, most of the students gathered their belongings and walked out the side and rear entrances in groups.
Ariella and her friends, however, found themselves loitering in the clearing in front of Rodney’s desk—Jaxson seizing the opportunity to approach the professor unabashedly. Ariella traded eyes with her other friends, and then they all followed Jaxson, though none of them were certain of his intentions.
Rodney sank into his leather chair, propping his feet upright and leaning back, yawning loudly and stretching his arms. Jaxson leaned on his desk and stared at him expectantly, Ariella, Arkus, Tammy, Zane, and Lucy all gathering behind him. Once the rear door slammed shut for the final time, the classroom was mostly empty, and Ariella and her friends found themselves alone with the professor.
Jaxson then reached forward, snapping his fingers and smacking the desk’s surface.
“Hellooo?” Jaxson griped, waving at Rodney, who seemed to be half-asleep in his chair already.
“Mm?” Rodney mumbled, blinking his eyes fully open and squinting at him. “What?”
“I wanna ask you something, Professor Cheerful,” Jaxson snarked. “What the hell was that creepy-ass look about?”
Rodney cocked his brow at Jaxson. “Be more specific.”
Jaxson’s mouth fell open. He gestured wildly, giving the professor a baffled look. “What—are you— what? Are you kidding? You really don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“No… I really don’t,” Rodney replied calmly, rolling his neck and swallowing another yawn. “Not the first time people have told me I have a scary face.”
Tammy and Zane both repressed a laugh. Jaxson wheeled around, facing Ariella and Arkus.
“You wanna help me out here?” Jaxson breathed.
“Right… ahm… when we were talking about the Cutthroat Killer earlier,” Arkus brought up. “You kinda gave Jaxson a death glare.”
“Oooh.” Rodney nodded. “Yeah. Well, to be fair… it’s pretty careless to assume a serial killer won’t target you, namely when you’re going out of your way to expose all their dirty laundry on a media platform. I gave you a serious look because you really oughta take the matter seriously.”
“He’s not a serial killer,” Jaxson said knowingly. “He’s only killed two people.”
“Oh, no… no, he’s killed more,” Rodney muttered, leaning back and intertwining his fingers atop his stomach. “And I’d bet you any amount of money he plans to kill more, too.”
“How do you know?” Tammy asked curiously.
Everyone eyed the professor, all of them eager to hear the answer.
Rodney sighed. “Fifteen years. This guy falls off the radar for fifteen years after getting away with murder—and then, all the sudden, Joseph Wick is killed, and the Cutthroat Killer is spotted. You know what that tells me?”
Ariella and her friends glimpsed at each other and shrugged.
“It tells me… he was careful,” Rodney informed. “He knew how to get away with it, and he was very careful not to slip up… which means, it’s entirely possible that there were various murders in between Mary Goldwater and Joseph Wick. But this pathological behavior develops an addiction to the violence. The more he does it, the more he wants to do it again—and the more he gets away with it, the cockier he gets. The cockier he gets, the more warped his mind becomes. And, after a long line of successful murders… fast-forward fifteen years… he’s bat-shit insane, cocky as ever, and ready to kill at a moment’s notice. So, when he goes after Joseph Wick… he gets cocky and sloppy, and he kills the kid right in front of all his peers, which is what got him spotted and nearly caught this time. His actions spell out a history of murderous behavior, plus a slowly degenerating sense of mental stability. Mary Goldwater and Joseph Wick are just the two victims we know about. God knows how many more there actually are.”
“God… you sound like my dad,” Ariella mumbled.
“I’m too old to be your dad,” Rodney smirked with a laugh.
Ariella returned his smile, thinking that her new professor was oddly charming, if not eccentric. Rodney seemed both whimsical and distinguished, and his laugh lines gave his smile a certain sense of wisdom. Not to mention, he seemed skilled at drawing investigative conclusions. She liked what she knew of him so far. Her father wasn’t so different, after all.
“Okay… well… since you apparently know everything about everything, you wanna give me some more advice?” Jaxson asked the professor. “I really do have to start that podcast, and I need to do it soon before they end up repurposing my recording room.”
Rodney opened his mouth to reply, then paused, narrowing his eyes at Jaxson skeptically.
“The recording room in the studio wing?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jaxson nodded. “Why?”
“That room was cleared out two months ago,” Rodney informed. “All the recording equipment got put in storage. They’re using that room for the film classes now.”
“ What? ” Jaxson gasped. “Wha—they can’t do that! I’m internet famous! I’m school famous! I need to be able to make my damn content! ”
“School famous…?” Rodney uttered.
“Yes—I’m Jaxson Marcus,” Jaxson griped, slapping his palm. “JaxMax? Vlogger, YouTuber, podcaster? Everyone in this school knows who I am—”
“Except for the guy who doesn’t spend much time on social media,” Tammy stated, motioning to Rodney and shooting Jaxson a look. “Calm your titties.”
Zane leaned over to Lucy, mumbling something nobody else could hear. “How the hell does he know the Karen meme, but he doesn’t know YouTube …?”
Lucy covered her mouth and swallowed a laugh.
Jaxson groaned and tossed his arms up, spinning around and pacing angrily in the clearing.
“Dude—we’ll find another place to record,” Zane told him.
“Aye. There’s a million rooms in this school,” Arkus added. “We can find another room and soundproof it—then bam, problem solved.”
“Yeah… and we can probably still use the recording equipment if we go get it out of storage,” Lucy chimed in.
“No—you guys don’t understand,” Jaxson growled. “That was the only room they had to spare—and now I’m screwed. I’m completely screwed.”
“What’s the big issue here? It’s just some online shit,” Zane grumped.
“It’s also my job ,” Jaxson retorted. “I get paid for this—I can’t afford to lose this, especially not in the middle of my damn college experience, buying food, and buying school supplies, and paying for my dorm—”
“Hold on,” Rodney interrupted, raising a hand and looking deep in thought. “How much recording equipment is there?”
Everyone stared at him, Jaxson ogling him as if he’d never seen another human being before.
“What difference does that make?!” Jaxson hissed.
“Because I might have a solution for you— if you can take your little girlfriend’s advice and calm your teets ,” Rodney shot back, making Arkus and Zane both choke on a laugh.
“She’s not my—wait—what? What solution?” Jaxson barked eagerly. “Sorry, sorry—I’m sorry I’m being an ass, but this is seriously really important to me.”
“I gathered,” Rodney replied with a coy smirk, preparing to stand. “C’mon.”
The others watched as Rodney reached his feet, moving around his chair and approaching the corner of the room, past the chalkboard and toward the large glass windows where the late afternoon sun shone beyond the field and the trees outside. A few large posters hung from the wall in the corner—the largest one of all standing taller than Rodney himself, and Ariella only just noticed the doorknob poking out from behind it.
Rodney grabbed the knob and pulled the door open, the poster flapping lightly as he did. He revealed a small, darkened room, Ariella and her friends all approaching him from behind and peeking inside. Rodney stepped into the darkness, slid his hand up the wall, and powered the light on. The tiny room illuminated, revealing two metal shelves along either wall, both of them cluttered with boxes and other random items. The farthest wall contained more posters and newspaper clippings, and in the center was a long foldable table, coated with papers, a few empty TV dinners, an ashtray, a radio, and a used coffee mug. A single armchair was placed beside the table, and a light bulb hung over the table from the middle of the ceiling.
“What the hell…?” Arkus laughed. “Mate… do you live in here?”
“No, no… it’s just supposed to be a big walk-in closet,” Rodney replied, allowing them to squeeze past him and enter the room. “But it’s so damn big, I just ended up using it as my own personal teacher’s lounge.”
“Okay… it needs cleaning,” Jaxson remarked, his finger gliding along one of the metal shelves. “But I don’t mind doing all that work. Are you seriously gonna let me use this room?”
“If you feel like cleaning it? Go right ahead,” Rodney replied. “But I’m gonna have to sign off on a new club if we’re using my room. This podcast thing will have to be a club, which means it’s gonna need a name.”
“Yeah… it needs a new name, anyway,” Jaxson mumbled. “The JaxMax Dramacast won’t be happening anymore. This podcast will be a completely brand new one.”
“Wait a minute—what if someone else tries to join this club?” Tammy wondered. “We don’t want random strangers jumping in, do we? We already have too many people as it is.”
“Well, that’s easy… just don’t advertise,” Rodney suggested. “If you don’t advertise for the club, then nobody will bother because nobody will hear about it. But it still has be a club on paper. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have any reason to keep you all in my room into the late hours. I doubt if anyone is gonna get nosy, but still. Better safe than fired.”
As they all talked and traded ideas, Ariella leaned on the end of the table, directly opposite Rodney as her friends slowly moved around the room. She pondered deeply for a moment, then raised her head and smirked.
“Gates Mill Gate Keepers,” Ariella said, meeting Rodney’s eyes.
“Sorry?” Rodney muttered.
“Gates Mill Gate Keepers—is that a good name?” Ariella asked, glancing around at her friends. “It kinda sounds like we’re trying to protect the town from serial killers, so…”
“I love that name!” Jaxson proclaimed, leaping around the table and trapping Ariella in a bearlike hug. “Yes! Thank you!”
“Okay… no problem,” Ariella croaked over his shoulder. “Stop… choking me…”
“Sorry,” Jaxson laughed, quickly releasing her.
“Professor?” Lucy murmured timidly, lifting one of the many canisters of air freshener off the shelves. “Um…”
“Yes?” Rodney replied politely. “You can just call me Rodney, sweetheart.”
“Okay… Rodney,” Lucy squeaked, holding up the air freshener. “Why is there so much air freshener in here? There’s like an entire shelf of it.”
“Yeah… well…” Rodney sauntered closer, pocketing his hands and smirking smugly. “They don’t like me smoking on the premises. So… every time the state sends an inspector to the university… I hide my ashtray and spray the smoke smell out of here. You better not tell anyone, though. If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it. And I’ll flunk you.”
“Hah,” Arkus laughed. “And how do you get away with having a sword on the wall?”
“Well…” Rodney nodded sideways. “As long as I don’t have to hari-kari anyone’s technology, people don’t usually notice the katana.”
Jaxson stared at him. “It’s still stabbed into your desk, man.”
Rodney blinked. “Ah. So it is…”
Zane stood in the doorway behind Rodney, suddenly perking up with interest. He glanced to the side, seeing that the katana was, indeed, still protruding perfectly from the mahogany desk. He then smirked, motioned for Lucy to join him, and approached the desk silently.
Rodney hadn’t noticed their departure. His attention was still on the small room and the four young adults before him, all of whom were examining everything rather intently, planning exactly how they would transform this room in order to manufacture their new online show.
Ariella grew more excited by the second; she’d never been on any kind of show before, and the thought of it was enthralling. Arkus, too, was beaming at the idea, and Jaxson’s eyes were lit like two dark flames, his mind working up a storm, as he knew the most about the podcast process and he plotted every detail of it in silence. Even Tammy, who seemed the most aloof about the idea, was beginning to smile, running her hands along the shelves and nodding as she thought of the fun ahead. They all knew it would take some work, but the fun and the accomplishments attached would be well worth it.
“Two things need to be dealt with,” Rodney told them. “One—the door needs a new lock so you won’t be interrupted during your recording time. And two—we’re gonna have to soundproof this room somehow.”
Ariella and Tammy nodded, though neither of them knew how to pay for such modifications. Jaxson slowly turned his head, meeting Arkus’s eyes.
Arkus’s expression intensified. He took in a deep breath, slowly nodded, and pulled his debit card from the inner pocket of his leather jacket.
“Wait… are you sure?” Jaxson said doubtfully.
“Aye,” Arkus nodded, holding the card out to him. “Here.”
Jaxson gave him a conflicted look. “But your dad—”
“Will get over it,” Arkus said coldly. “Here. This is basically your career—so if I gotta pay for a lock and a couple soundproof walls, that’s fine. Won’t even make a dent. Trust me.”
Jaxson sighed, hesitantly taking the card from him.
Ariella glanced between the two of them thoughtfully, wondering what the deal was with Arkus’s father. Every time his dad came up in conversation, his smile would always vanish, and his usually childlike expression would darken into a grave and serious one. But, as curious as she was, now wasn’t the time to ask. So, she dismissed the troubling thoughts and turned to Rodney.
“Thank you,” Ariella told him. “We appreciate the help, here.”
“Oh, yeah, man—seriously, thank you,” Jaxson agreed. “If you need any volunteer teaching assistants throughout the year, let me know.”
“And if you need someone to break up any fights in the class,” Tammy added with a smirk, raising her hand. “Let me know.”
Rodney chuckled. “Thank you… but—”
He was interrupted by a loud, echoing clank from his classroom.
Rodney paused, spinning around and leaning out of the small room, Ariella and her friends all marching out of the room from behind him.
Zane had just dropped the katana—and he swiftly picked it up from the floor, slashed it through the air a few times, and rushed toward Lucy, whose back was pressed up against the chalkboard. He stopped the blade less than an inch from her throat—making her jump and squeal.
“ Hey !” Rodney yelled angrily, storming forward and rounding on him. “That’s not a toy !”
Zane kept the blade pressed lightly against Lucy’s neck, her eyes sealed shut and her body beginning to tremble.
Rodney, Ariella, and everyone else stood by and watched in surprise, Zane slowly turning his head and blowing his black-streaked bangs from his eyes.
“It’s a trust test,” Zane uttered, flashing an empty smile.
“Put, it, down ,” Rodney glowered, thrusting his finger at his desk. “ Now .”
“ Zane !” Tammy screamed furiously, stomping forward with flaring eyes. “That’s not fucking cool! Look at Lucy! You’re scaring the shit outta her!”
Zane observed the shaking girl before him, seeming to realize the same thing. He paused for a moment, then released a scoffing laugh, lowering the blade and slowly meandering toward Rodney’s desk.
Ariella stared at Zane incredibly, unable to believe that he’d pull such a stunt. Zane had always been somewhat distant and sarcastic, but he’d never done anything like this before.
When Zane approached the end of the desk, he met eyes with Ariella, then gave Rodney a brief glare. He tossed the katana onto the desk, spinning around and pocketing his hands, then he snickered as he sauntered off toward the exit.
“You all need to calm down,” he yelled without turning back. “Like I was really gonna do anything. Jesus Christ…”
Zane pulled the door open and prepared to leave.
Lucy only just opened her eyes, and Tammy approached her, wanting to comfort her friend—but then, Lucy broke into a jog, chasing Zane out of the room and following him away from the others. When the door swung shut, Tammy fumed at it in astonishment, utterly dumbfounded. She whipped around, seeing that everyone else was wearing a similar expression to hers.
“Can you believe that shit?” Tammy breathed, her smooth pale cheeks now burning an angry pink. “And she just followed him like a lapdog right after he put a freaking sword to her throat? What the hell? ”
“Hey… er… sorry,” Arkus said, turning to Rodney. “You’ll have to forgive our friend, he’s… he’s got a really twisted sense of humor. He doesn’t usually pull that kinda stuff, though.”
Rodney barely seemed to hear him, still glaring at the door and inhaling several angry breaths.
“Well… if that doesn’t give Lucy a wakeup call, I don’t know what will,” Jaxson commented.
“You guys,” Ariella spoke up, hoping to calm the sudden tension in the room. “When do you wanna get started on cleaning that back room?”
“We can do that tonight, if Rodney’s cool with it,” Jaxson answered, turning to the professor.
The four of them stared at the professor and awaited an answer. Rodney was still seething at the door, blinking and realizing that all eyes were on him now.
“Sorry… yeah. Fine. Tonight works,” Rodney told them, rubbing his neck and heading toward his desk. “You’ll have to go and hunt the nearest janitor down and grab some cleaning supplies. I’ll pull everything out of the closet and try to condense it. God knows I can probably throw half of that junk away.”
“Okay—but if I find Lucy, I’m probably not coming back,” Tammy snapped, thundering toward the door. “Because someone seriously needs to drill some fucking sense into her head.”
Arkus and Jaxson began to follow her.
“I’m gonna have to call my dad and tell him I’ll be late tonight,” Jaxson remarked, pulling out his phone. “You gonna call yours?”
“Nope,” Arkus replied without looking at him. “Mine couldn’t care less.”
Ariella stared after them, giving Arkus a frown from behind. The more she heard, the more she wanted to know; it seemed Arkus had a broken relationship with his father, and for whatever reason, it bothered her to no end.
Just when Ariella moved to follow her friends out of the classroom, Rodney lifted his katana and placed his leather chair against the chalkboard, preparing to climb on top of it and return the sword to its scabbard on the wall. He stepped onto the rolling chair, and the chair shifted beneath him—he quickly planted a hand on the wall, narrowly regaining his balance.
Ariella spun around and saw that the chair was trying to roll out from under him. So, she wandered back toward the desk and held the chair steady, allowing him to slide the katana back into the scabbard where it belonged.
Everyone else had left the room now, and Ariella waited patiently for Rodney to climb off the chair. He stepped briskly onto the floor, sighing and nodding at her.
“Thank you, dear,” he said.
“Yeah… no problem,” Ariella replied. “Hey—I can help you get rid of the junk in that room, if you want. You can condense it and I’ll carry the trash off.”
Rodney smiled and gave her another nod. “That sounds good. Thank you, miss… what was your name, again?”
“Ariella,” Ariella told him. “Ariella Callaghan.”
Rodney’s brows gave a slight raise, his mouth drifting open momentarily. “Oh…”
Ariella observed him, spotting his change in expression.
Rodney stroked his collar again, glancing away briefly before returning his gaze to hers.
“What?” Ariella asked.
“Are you…” Rodney squinted curiously, gently pointing at her. “By any chance, are you… related to Vance Callaghan?”
“Yeah. He’s my father,” Ariella replied. “Why, do I know you from somewhere else? Or does he know you?”
“No, no… I have a friend in the precinct,” Rodney explained. “I’ve heard an earful about Vance Callaghan. And… ever since the Joseph Wick incident… I’ve heard about you, too.”
Ariella paused. “Did they put my name in the paper or something…?”
“No… nobody in the media mentioned your name, as far as I know,” Rodney assured. “My cop friend told me that Vance’s daughter was the sole witness.”
“Oh… okay,” Ariella murmured, nodding at her feet.
Rodney observed her. “You seem to be handling it well… compared to the way most would.”
“Yeah. Well… the more you see it, the more you get numb to it,” Ariella shrugged.
Rodney’s browbone wrinkled, his arms folding as he gave her an investigative stare. “You’ve seen that kind of thing before?”
Ariella sighed heavily, leaning against the edge of his desk and staring downward.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Rodney added.
“No… it’s okay,” Ariella responded. “It was forever ago. I was eight years old, and I was stuck living in this godawful foster home. The foster mother was a crazy abusive drunk. One night, I saw her kill her husband, and… she almost killed me right after.”
Rodney nodded mildly, slowly sinking into his chair as he listened. “Lord almighty…”
“Yeah…” Ariella muttered. “Up until Dad found me, I was just… buried in a bunch of dysfunctional messes. But he saved me. Literally and metaphorically, he seriously saved me.”
“Well… that’s good,” Rodney mumbled softly. “I’m sorry you’ve been through so much.”
“Nah. I don’t mind,” Ariella smirked at him. “The more I go through, the stronger I’ll be. Just like my father.”
Rodney nodded in agreement, staring down at his hands for a few seconds.
“Ariella,” he uttered, his tone darkening and his eyes zeroing in on her.
Ariella met his gaze again, instantly noticing the look of severity amidst his visage.
“You need to keep an eye on that friend of yours,” Rodney said intensely.
“Who?” Ariella asked, though she suspected she knew the answer.
“The blond with the streaks… the potential sociopath who likes to play with swords like toys,” Rodney told her grimly. “People don’t typically do things like that just for fun. Usually, if they’re smart, they like to pass off their pathological behavior as a joke. They can get away with it a lot easier that way…”
He made a subconscious movement, briefly rubbing the base of his neck yet again.
Ariella looked down—and she swallowed a sudden gasp, spotting a thin, jagged scar crawling up from behind his dark shirt. The scar appeared rather ancient, etched from the center of his collar up to the base of his neck, crookedly worming up from the top of his chest.
Rodney caught her staring, lowering his hand and sighing.
“Where’d you get that…?” Ariella breathed.
“From a lunatic,” Rodney replied grimly. “The world’s full of ‘em… and they could be anybody around you. So… like I said… keep an eye out. Especially when they start giving you red flags and warning signs.”
Ariella nodded silently, thinking of Zane again and feeling a churning in her gut. Honestly, she wasn’t close enough to Zane to judge his character, but she’d been hanging around with his friend group for over two years now, and she couldn’t think him dangerous. He was always cold and caustic, but he never gave her the impression that he was secretly a raving lunatic.
Nevertheless, Rodney’s words put an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, and she couldn’t help but indulge the paranoia that years of therapy worked hard to eliminate. There was a time—when she was much younger—when she was wary and suspicious of everyone, jumpy and anxious, never wanting to leave the house. But Vance and Lumis were there for her, and they did everything they could to bring her out of that untrusting mentality—they took her to therapy sessions and jujitsu classes, and Vance would even stay awake all hours of the night, calming her down and comforting her whenever she had one of her frightful flashback nightmares.
Nowadays, Ariella was far gone from that traumatized and helpless little girl—but now, as she gazed into Rodney’s severe expression, she felt the old feelings attempting to crawl their way back, making her mind race and her heart pound. Trauma left a lasting impression; it had left Ariella frightened and guarded for years, and evidently, Rodney had experienced the very same thing. In fact, Vance himself had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from his time as a Navy SEAL—and if not for his amnesia, he’d likely suffer from his war flashbacks much more often, or much more clearly.
Vance took it all in stride, though; he worked hard with the police, and he never seemed to fear anything. And Rodney—he seemed similar, working confidently without a hint of fear in his eyes, doing his job and never afraid to leave his house to come to work in the morning. If the two of them could take it all in stride, then Ariella was certain she could do the same.
The moment she came to this realization, she thought of the podcast, and a beaming smile crawled across her face.
Rodney narrowed his eyes at her.
Ariella turned to him. “I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”
“Oh really?” Rodney asked curiously. “Why’s that?”
“Because… I never really knew exactly what to do with my life,” Ariella informed. “But now I kinda do. I’m gonna help to get this killer caught, just like my father.”
Rodney made a slow, single nod, staring downward for a moment and biting his lip. When he met her eyes again, he sighed and straightened up, leaning closer and jabbing a finger at her.
“Okay… I getcha… but listen,” he said insistently. “I really meant what I told your friend. You all need to be damn careful if you’re gonna spread information about this killer all over town. If your little online show actually does help the police to track his scent, then chances are, he’s gonna come after you, and he’s gonna try to shut you up to cover his own ass. And you… why… why are you still smiling? ”
Rodney shot her a befuddled look, as Ariella’s smile seemed to have stretched ear-to-ear.
“It’s just awesome,” Ariella grinned, sitting fully on the desk and swinging her legs. “I figured I’d end up doing something like my dad eventually… and now I’m finally almost there. Almost making a difference.”
“Yeah, all right…” Rodney sank his face into his palms for a second, clasping his hands and pressing his index fingers together, pointing both of them at her. “That’s good, but this is a dangerous thing to get involved with. You can’t afford to overlook that—and you have to do everything as intelligently as humanly possible, here.”
“I know,” Ariella assured. “That’s why I’m glad we ended up with a teacher who can help with all that stuff.”
Rodney stared.
Ariella giggled.
“You are gonna help us, right?” she asked.
“Well. Of course,” Rodney said flatly. “You’re not giving me a choice. Day damn one—and already, a gang of my students is deliberately trying to piss off a serial killer. Someone needs to watch over you little lunatics. Besides—I’m technically gonna be the one in charge of the ‘club’ here. I have to be here for it regardless.”
“Oh, crap… I didn’t think about that,” Ariella realized, her smile fading. “We’re gonna end up keeping you late at night. I’m sorry. Is your family gonna be okay with that…?”
Rodney sighed heavily, rolling his head to the side and looking down for a moment. “I imagine they would be… were they alive.”
Ariella fell totally silent, her chest giving a pained ache.
Rodney nodded at his lap, raising his head and meeting her gaze again. To her surprise, he offered her a calm, peaceful smile.
“Most of them I lost a long time ago… and my wife, I was happily married to until she passed three years ago,” he told her somberly. “And I’ve long since adjusted to every single loss.”
“Sorry,” Ariella mumbled weakly.
“No, no… don’t be,” Rodney smiled and swatted at her. “Do you know how old I am? It would be a grand divine miracle if none of my family died at this point.”
Ariella let out a nervous laugh, then quickly forced herself quiet again.
Rodney smirked at her. “Take a guess. Go ahead and guess how old I am.”
“Oh God no,” Ariella chuckled. “I did that to Lumis when I was a kid—I know better now.”
“I’ll give you a hint,” Rodney smiled, raising a finger at her. “There was another serial killer around when I was young… and they never caught him , either.”
“Ted Bundy?”
“No, they caught Ted Bundy.”
“Um… Charles Manson?”
“Nope. Here’s another hint—nobody ever learned his real name. He has a catchy alias, too, just like the Cutthroat Killer.”
Ariella jumped off the desk, snapping and pointing at him. “Ooo—the Zodiac Killer!”
“ There ya’ go,” Rodney nodded. “Good job.”
Ariella grinned and swiped her hairs back, turning to the windows and seeing that sunset was near. Rodney swiveled around in his chair, noticing the same and slowly reaching his feet.
“Well… we better get to work,” he disclosed.
Ariella nodded and followed him toward the back room, helping him to remove the boxes of junk one by one.
She intended to do her father proud, and now, she had a real goal and a huge group of friends to back her—and she would, most assuredly, take Rodney’s advice. Ariella and her friends would be as careful as possible so not to incite any sort of retaliation from the Cutthroat Killer.
Yet, unbeknown to her—far across the field outside, as the sunset darkened into twilight—the Cutthroat Killer stood beneath the shadows of the treetop canopy above him, looming behind an oak tree and facing the windows of the psychology classroom, watching from a distance.
He was just able to see when Ariella’s friends returned to the room, Arkus running across the class and pushing the janitor’s cart of cleaning supplies. As the friends gathered and prepared the small room to host their podcast, Ariella beamed away inside the building, unaware of the lingering danger so near.
The Cutthroat Killer continued watching until night fell entirely, and with a final glare from beneath the brim of his old hat, he turned on his heel and vanished into the darkness at once.