Something must be going on in there. Something Gul, or someone else, doesn’t want us to see. If it’s the latter, the attacker must still be cornered inside.
I’m going to find out who it is.
I take another step toward the closed door and reach for the knob.
“Charlotte, let me,” Mikhail commands, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. “It is my job.”
“Be my guest.”
Mikhail advances toward the door, his body taut with energy, with Ms. Poppin on his heels.
I watch with baited breath.
Beside me, Adrienne braces herself with her arms wrapped across her chest.
Ricardo nudges me with his elbow and lifts his chin toward my sister. She’s watching after Mikhail with wide, frightened eyes. Ricardo starts to chuckle, but I shoot him an admonishing look. “This is not the time.”
Sobering immediately, he slings an arm around my shoulders and squeezes gently. “Just trying to cut the tension.”
Together, we creep up behind Mikhail and Ms. Poppin while Adrienne hangs back with the rest of the crowd.
Mikhail opens the door a slit and pokes his head inside. After a moment, he retreats, gesturing for Ms. Poppin to enter.
I follow.
Gul is curled up in a ball on the floor, sobbing into her scraggly hair, which hangs over her face in sweaty strings. She doesn’t look up when we enter.
On a gasp, Ms. Poppin kneels down and tries to pull Gul to a sitting position, with not much success.
My gaze swings past them, moving over the rest of the room. On the desk, Gul’s phone is playing a video on a loop. I snatch it up and watch the screen.
The footage was shot at night, from a car’s dashboard. I squint as the car passes under several street lamps, its headlights off. Bright white light flashes as the headlights spring to life, illuminating a man standing a few feet ahead in the middle of a crosswalk. The driver doesn’t hesitate. With a screech, the car accelerates, ramming into the man and hurtling down the street away from the academy. The body is flung along the street and lands with a crunch. It’s apparent from the video that it IS a body, not a living person any longer.
It’s Professor Rook’s death, playing in an unending loop.
Words flash along the bottom of the screen: “You’re next.” Then the video begins again.
Ms. Poppin asked Mikhail to herd everyone back to their rooms before she ran downstairs to rouse the headmistress. She left Adrienne, and I alone with Gul, tasking us with watching over her until she could get help.
In the hallway, the security guard has been called up from the front door and is patrolling the corridor. Ms. Poppin is obviously taking this threat to Gul very seriously, especially after last semester.
I shut off the video and manage to get Gul off the floor and onto her bed, where she’s sitting encased in a large, fluffy, floral-patterned blanket she’s brought with her every year since she started at the academy our sophomore year.
Saying she would be right back, Adrienne left at a near run.
Ricardo wanted to stay too, but I made him leave, thinking Gul would be more likely to speak candidly if he wasn’t around. He’s probably hovering outside hoping to hear our conversation. The idea of him being nearby is, curiously, comforting.
I give Gul an awkward pat on the back, and glance toward the door. What is taking Adrienne so long? She’s the one who’s good at sympathizing with and consoling people. Not me. I’m more the type to avoid situations like this because I simply don’t know what to say.
Finally.
Adrienne re-enters bearing a tray of brownies and a mug of hot chocolate, which she hands to Gul.
Gul holds the warm cup in both hands but doesn’t drink.
I help myself to one of Adrienne’s fudgy brownies and take a nibble. They’re chocolate heaven. I’m going to have to run a mile before tennis practice tomorrow to work off the calories, but it’s worth it.
“Thank you,” Gul whispers, her voice cracking. She won’t meet our eyes, I notice. “Is Headmistress Morgan coming?”
I look at Adrienne, who gives a shake of her head. “I didn’t see them on my way back from the student kitchen.” She sits on the bed beside Gul and tilts her head toward the teary girl. It’s a simple gesture, meant to give Gul comfort. How does Adrienne think of stuff like that?
I give myself a mental shake. I have to focus.
“Can you tell me about the video?” I ask, trying to imbue sympathy into my voice.
Adrienne frowns, but I push on.
“It would be helpful to know how it was sent to you, and by whom.”
Gul nods, finally looking me in the eye. “I don’t know who sent it. The message said it was from a makeup company I follow, but the email address must have been spoofed, because it wasn’t from them. I started watching it because I was curious. I thought maybe it was a fan-made video, you know, but once I realized what it was… And then the message at the bottom popped up. I couldn’t help it. I screamed.”
I look between Gul and the spot where her phone is lying on her desk, screen darkened. “The video looked real to me, but I wasn’t there when Professor Rook was killed. It’s too bad we can’t figure out who called 911, and ask them about it.”
Gul doesn’t miss my pointed look.
Adrienne takes a brownie and starts eating it quietly.
A ragged sigh comes from Gul’s throat. “Fine, if you really want to know, it was me.”
I refrain from pumping my fist, but it’s a challenge. “I knew it. Why did you deny it?” I can’t hide the exasperation that edges my words.
“Charlotte…” Adrienne says, her tone a warning.
“Sorry. Sorry. Let me try again. Gul, why didn’t you come forward and speak to the police after the accident?” Pot, meet kettle.
Gul chews on her lower lip. “I didn’t see anything, really, except a car hitting Professor Rook and then driving off. It was too dark to make out the car’s color, or type. The license plate. Anything. So I figured once I reported it, that was enough.”
“You’re sure you didn’t see the driver?” I press, my eyes locked on hers.
She shakes her head. “Even if I did, I would never tell, especially not after this.”
I exhale. “What were you doing outside that night?”
Gul pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her black hair tumbling down her back in disarray. “None of your business.”
I put a hand on her arm. “I see your point. This video is clearly a threat. Whoever sent it to you probably also killed Professor Rook, and they think you know something about it. You should really talk to the police.”
Gul’s head shake is more vehement this time. “No way. I’m keeping my mouth shut this time.”
I snort. It takes everything in me not to retort, “For once,” but that wouldn’t be helpful.
Gul must know what I’m thinking, because her expression hardens. “Look. I already admitted that I made the call. I don’t know anything else. Please leave.”
Popping the final bite of her brownie into her mouth, Adrienne slides off Gul’s bed. “You won’t reconsider talking to the police? I really think you should. They could keep you safe.”
“After everything they put you through last semester?” Gul is practically spitting. “No effing way.”