Jack

I somehow find my way to a bathroom. There, I wash the cut and have a good look in the mirror.

I look like hell on a bagel, and feel just about as perfect. Not surprising really, considering that in the last twenty hours I have been punched, kicked, pushed, starved, and slashed at. Oh yeah, I love this school. Right.

It’s still night. Nobody will be getting up for another four or so hours. I can’t find my way back to bed and don’t have the patience or energy to try. Anyway, the robber is probably still there; I don’t relish meeting him a second time. The memory of his knife is still as fresh as the cut it gave.

I sit down with my back against a sink, and gradually fall asleep, despite the combined smell of cigarette smoke and cleaning solvent.

It’s been one hell of a day.

Niko

I climbed through the skylight, and am now on top of the roof. It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, but it’s so beautiful that I can’t pass it up. This school is almost pretty when there’s no people to ruin the view, and downright gorgeous when it’s covered in snow.

The moon is shining on the snow, making it glitter like white gold. My willow stands out against the white, a black spider on an angel’s dress. Icicles hang like glass daggers from the gutter, warning me of the inevitable should I slip.

I’ll go to my room through the window. I can run along the rooftop quite easily, and I know it better than the original architect.

Back in my room. Luckily I didn’t slip and break my neck, though that would have given me sweet relief from my burns. Wait, there’s not enough light in here. I can write better when there’s a lamp on...

OH MY GOD, SOMEONE’S BEEN IN HERE!!!

Jack

I don’t sleep for long. I hear three screams, all from different parts of the school yet coming at the same time. Two are plainly female, one from a man. I can tell with my eyes closed that the one closest to me is the one who woke me up.

I open my eyes.

There she is, a tall blonde girl in pink fluffy pajamas, carrying a toilet bag and shrieking like there’s no tomorrow. The tiles in the bathroom make her screams reverberate amazingly, increasing the already high volume tenfold, and echoing yet again in my head. She stops her wordless screech long enough to yell, "Get out of here! Get OUT, you PERVERT!" I scramble for the door as fast as I am able, but she keeps whacking me with her bag once I’m in the hall. What’s in that thing, a brick? Finally, she ceases and goes back into the bathroom. I look at the sign on the door and groan. Trust me to spend the night in the girls toilet!

I notice that the other two screams are still going on. I can’t guess at the woman’s- it’s too far away. The man’s, however, could only be coming from Pishett. So he is alive...

What am I saying? I’m barely alive myself!

Niko

Can’t move anything, can’t touch anything with my bare hands, have to know what they took and what their fingerprints look like. Curse my inefficiency! I should have gotten print samples from everyone when I got their pictures! This would be so much easier if I knew who has the guts to come into my territory, because then I could openly challenge them to a duel. As it turns out, I can’t tell the difference between brave and stupid in this school.

Still, I can take a little credit for knowing that someone came in at all. I admit that it was a shock, and I admit to screaming for a few seconds, but I also admit that I have developed a rather ingenious security system. All right, it’s not all that secure, but I can tell when someone other than myself has opened the door. It consists of sealing wax, string, baby powder and an easily-attached spring.

An open bottle of talcum hangs upside-down from the ceiling in a wax and string net. When my door has been open for more than five seconds, it slams shut from the pull of the spring. The vibration causes the powder to fall all over the room, making fingerprint dusting much easier and releasing the smell of talc. I can tell in instants whether my door was opened in my absence. The perk to this is that the baby powder keeps ants away, a good thing for when I eat in my room during the Melancholy Days.

I have only had need of this contraption once before, when the police searched my room while I was out. Fortunately, I was out getting my knives sharpened and hadn’t owned any explosives at the time, so they found nothing. They also bugged my room, as is so popular with them these days. But thanks to my silent alarm system, I knew they had been there and ran a magnet over every inch of my room. Any cameras or mikes I didn’t find were shorted out. Ha ha, coppers. Watch me dance, you can’t catch me in the act!

Jack

It’s after breakfast. I look up at the clock. I have two minutes before the evil bell rings and class begins, two minutes for the hell to restart from where it left off last night.

I’m sitting at Niko’s table again, but she’s made it plain that she wants nothing to do with me. The lighter is out, and she has not looked in my direction once since I sat down. She’s the only one, though. I can feel the rest of the school sneaking glances at my mutilated face. They want to ask what happened, they desperately want to know, but I’m an outcast now. Nobody can be seen talking to an outcast and not suffer for it the next day. They know that their reputations are not worth whatever is to be gained from asking about my face. Yet I can almost feel the question being blasted at me from all sides.

I can hear little snippets of their conversations from my seat in the corner. It’s almost like flipping channels to hear them talk.

"Did you see the test scores? Elaine of all people..."

"Then I sunk a jump shot, and man, you shoulda seen me, I was like, flying..."

"Such a cute ring, where did you get it?"

"EEEW! What’s in this stuff?"

"Really? Top of the list?"

"Aw, that’s nothing, I once scored like you wouldn’t believe..."

"I made it in art class, do you like it?"

"Who knows?"

"I’m not kidding! Gospel truth!"

"Practice tomorrow, don’t forget..."

"You idiot!"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you hear? The ‘Midnight Mauler’ struck again last night, ketchup everywhere..."

"What was that pattering on the roof last night, did you hear it?"

"I do think they were a little rough on him..."

"Nasty! Someone should run a health check; I swear this stuff is not food!"

"Shut up, just shut up..."

It would seem that I’ll need some recovery time if I’m to survive the next six months. I refuse to risk being beaten up again, or anything even like a beating today. I will be... CUTTING CLASS!

Where I can go to be alone and what I’ll do when I get there, I have no idea, but so help me I need a break. I look over at Niko, still writing furiously in her notebook, occasionally looking around like she’s expecting someone. Strange, the left side of her face seems a bit swollen. But who would beat up Niko, for heaven’s sake? Who could, and live to tell the tale?

I wish I knew how her mind works, what she’s so angsty about.

Wait.

I still have her notebook. I could read it while I hide.

Niko

I spent most of the night comparing my notes to see who could have possibly gone into my room. Who has the guts, who has a grudge, who’s really that stupid, who takes dares. So far, my search hasn’t been hasn’t been narrowed enough to systematically root out the mystery invader. Some people, (the police) I know for a fact were not there. But there’s still a small group of miscreants that are either innocent or the prime suspects:
1. Jillian
2. James and his troglodyte crew
3. The ghost of the boys dorm (a.k.a. the burglar)
4. Prettyboy Jack

Jack and the burglar I don’t know well enough to make judgments on. Pishett may or may not have been awake before my attack, but the chance is very slim. Jillian and James both have motive and means (they hate me to no end). But if they went missing, even for an hour, rumors would spread like wildfire. I’d know in a minute if either one was not the center of attention for any amount of time. More likely, they put up one of their followers to do the dirty work.

As bad days go, this one is total misery. By this I mean, if it weren’t for my pride, I would commit hari-kari here and now. But I refuse to give them the satisfaction. So, not today. What’s got me down? I can’t think what...

Oh, now I remember. It’s nothing really, just that I found out what the investigatory party removed from my room. That would be my first notebook, the JEWL OF MY COLLECTION, and also the most INFORMATIVE OF MY NOTES. A large part of my life is out there somewhere, in potentially untrustworthy hands. If they read it, and they will, I’ll have to go to extremes. Someone, not me, must die.

Jack

The bell rings. I know where my class is, for once, but I’m not headed in that direction. At the first intersection, I go left instead of straight, like I’m supposed to. I’m lost on purpose... self-inflicted confusion. I continue in random directions until the second bell rings, and the halls empty completely. A low buzz of talking emanates from the closed doors of the classroom as "learning" begins for the day. I keep wandering.

I am not surprised when I find myself in the boys dorm. I am, however, very surprised indeed to discover that I’m in the exact same spot that I was last night during the robbery. The corner, the skylight, a few drops of my blood on the floor, a sudden throbbing in the scabbed cut on my cheek, they all invoke the deepest sense of déjà vu I’ve ever had. I look at the place where the shadow-person had been all those hours.

That’s disgusting.

Niko

In class, yet again. Luckily, it’s geometry, so I can write all I want at no cost to grade. Ms. Biffler is just reading her newspaper, so there is very little math being done. I think she gave up on trying to teach us anything when Michael led a mini-rebellion against her.

I’ve been listening to the conversations around me. The only talk regarding me is on the "Midnight Mauler," the name they’ve given to my ninja escapades. I admit that last night’s incident is one of my better antics, but even better is that no one has made the connection between him and I. Yay.

Or

So it’s only a matter of time before the world knows about my-

About me.

Jack

The wall is covered in ketchup, as is most of the floor. If it weren’t for the distinct smell of tomatoes, I would think it was blood. It seems to a turned a bit rancid from being left out all night. Flies, the only survivors of winter, investigate the splatters, searching for a place to lay their maggots.

That isn’t particularly gross.

The nasty part of the whole setup is what is carved into the wall, under the ketchup. Various death threats, psychopathic slogans, descriptive phrases, stick-figure friezes, all etched into the plaster. A few I recognize from movies; most, I don’t believe even Hollywood could think up.

Aside from the obvious creepiness of the scene, I have a feeling that I’ve actually seen something like this before, someplace else...

I pull Niko’s book from my bag.

Niko matches RED RUM in handwriting.

Oh, my God.