The Thrashers(25)

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Mrs. Calloway was a terrifying individual of flowing skirts and long, beaded necklaces. Her jewelry clicked when she walked, and her cerulean eyes lit up when she saw Jodi.

“Jodi Dillon. Where have you been hiding all this time?” Her lips were purple and perpetually tilted upward.

Jodi gave her a shrug and accepted the syllabus handed to her, but Oliver had been right. She allowed the crew kids to break off and go find Doug in the production lab before any of the vocal warm-ups or ball-of-energy work began.

Doug was a stocky man in his fifties who needed to step out for a cigarette every fifteen minutes. He showed them the stage and some basic safety precautions and then broke them up into stagehands, wardrobe, and scenic designers. He didn’t learn their names.

Jodi tried not to hover at Oliver’s elbow the whole time. Just because he talked to her once didn’t mean they were friends again. But when Doug sent them over to their workstations, Oliver took charge of the scenic design team and told them all that Jodi would be working on the backdrop with him.

After drama, Jodi started down the hall to advanced art, unsurprised to see Oliver a few steps ahead of her, walking with an Asian girl in Doc Martens, overalls shorts, and purple-highlighted hair.

“I told her I’ll gladly join stage crew if I’m only going to be a part of the Greek chorus again. She can fuck off if she thinks I’m wasting another year chanting ‘No, Antigone, no!’” She flipped her purple-black hair over her shoulder and walked through the classroom door when Oliver pulled it open for her. Jodi slipped through when he gestured for her to enter next.

“That’s Nikita,” he said, like that was all the introduction necessary. Like NIKITA would be in lights one day.

At the end of the day, as she headed to the bus stop, Jodi realized that she had English with Paige and anatomy with Julian (where he hadn’t spared her a glance), and that was it. She had no classes with Zack or Lucy. If they weren’t supposed to eat lunch together … when would Jodi even see them?

On the way out of the main gates, a news crew had set up near the brick wall. Standing next to a reporter was Reagan, about to be interviewed. Jodi paused. She glared at Reagan, wondering what she could possibly say about the girl she didn’t know.

“Emily was such a treasure. I’m just heartbroken that she’s gone.”

The reporter asked, “A lot has been said about bullying at this school. Did you see Emily bullied?”

“Absolutely. They’re called ‘the Thrashers.’” Reagan’s eyes flicked to Jodi with a satisfied smile.

Jodi turned on her heel and booked it through the parking lot. She knew Reagan hated Lucy, but Jodi wouldn’t have said she hated all five of them. She was standoffish, but not cruel.

By the time Jodi reached the bus stop, the bus had arrived. Plopping down in the first seat available, Jodi put in her AirPods and scrolled through her music. Her eyes drifted up, and she lost her breath in a whoosh.

Emily Mills was standing at the front of the bus, looking for a seat. She stepped forward, and Jodi felt her heart jolt. Her eyes unfocused, and it was like she was staring at Emily from underwater.

But her hair … was different. Her eyes a bit closer together. Younger. The specter locked eyes with Jodi, moving down the aisle as if on a track. It wasn’t Emily. It was Hannah.

When she passed her, Jodi could only think one thing as she stared forward, swallowing down the bile climbing up her throat: Hannah Mills had taken her sister’s orange shoes, orange backpack, and favorite blue shirt—but even dead, Emily Mills was more vivacious and alive than her sister. Hannah was the ghost.

Jodi rode the bus until her stop, then slithered out of the seat, stumbled down the steps, and once the bus was out of sight, she heaved into the first set of bushes she found.





Chapter Eight





It was Thursday when her homeroom teacher handed her a note from the new wellness counselor, Ms. George.

Jodi, I’d love to meet with you during your free period this week. Come by any time.



Jodi stared down at the fluttery letters, her pulse jumping. There was only one thing a counselor would be interested in talking about.

She took her time getting there. Oliver was behind the desk in the office, glaring into space as someone talked his ear off on the office phone. Jodi tapped the counter to get his attention and pointed to the hallway where the guidance offices were.

Oliver’s lips twitched as she started down the hall. “So, you want an interview with one of the so-called Thrashers, is that right, sir?”

Jodi stopped, turning on her heel to face him.

“Oh, do I know them? Sure, I do.” Oliver grinned, and she scowled back. “They’re very popular. Unfortunately, we have a new policy about the media due to recent events. I’m sure you understand.”

He shooed her like a fly while he listened to the reporter argue his case. Jodi continued down the hall, looking at nameplates until she found Roseanne George. The door was closed, and voices were coming from inside. Jodi sat down in a chair by the wall and scrolled her phone until the handle turned.

“—sure it’s all going to turn out okay. I’m glad you could stop by.”

Jodi looked up and froze when she met Hannah Mills’s blue eyes. Hannah seemed surprised to see her, but then quickly recovered. “Hi,” she said, and then Jodi was engulfed in a loose hug. She didn’t breathe, in case a small movement could break Hannah’s fragile arms. Just as quickly as it happened, Hannah was darting down the hall, head down. Jodi stared after her, speechless. She had never hugged Hannah Mills in her life.