didnât help that the city was experiencing a sudden and unexplained crime spree. There were more murders in that one week than there had been in the previous two months, and they werenât confined to only the bad neighborhoods. Dad told me about some guy who was found floating in the fountain at Logan Circle, which felt uncomfortably close to where we lived. The crime spree meant he had to work even later hours than usual and that everyone was putting pressure on him to somehow fix it. I couldnât really blame him for being grumpy, under the circumstances.
That didnât make detention any more fun. There were five of usâfour juniors and me, because apparently the seniors had been behaving themselves this weekâsitting silent in that classroom, working on our homework or daydreaming. The teacher didnât care what we did as long as it didnât involve cell phones, tablets, or talking. Thanks to being grounded, I was already well ahead in my homework, so I decided to work on one of the many college essays I would have to write, grumbling to myself and wishing each application didnât have a different essay question.
The weather had gotten warmer, the air just chilly now instead of freezing. As I worked on my essay and watched the sunlight fade as sunset approached, a bank of fog rolled in. For the millionth time, I wished my dad would get me a car, even if it was just some used clunker on its last legs. It was going to be almost completely dark by the time I got out of detention, and I knew from experience that the fog would be creepy as hell on this campus even in broad daylight. The streetlights were shaped to look like old-fashioned gas lanterns, and when there was fog, the damn things gave the place a Jack the Ripper vibe.
When detention was over, I hitched my backpack over one shoulder and set out into the fog, following the curve of the long driveway that led past the athletic fields to the schoolâs front gate. Several cars zipped by me as my fellow detainees were whisked home by their parents, and then there was nothing.
The fog was blocking out what little light was left from the setting sun, and I might as well have been walking through the campus at midnight. Thick as paste, it cut visibility to next to nothing. I knew I wasnât alone on the campusâthere were probably still teachers working, and the schoolâs beautiful Victorian main building even had faculty apartments for those who wanted the convenience of living close to work. But I couldnât see anyone. I couldnât even see the lights from any of the buildings. All I could see were those faux gaslights looming in the impenetrable fog.
It was actually kind of pretty, as long as you could convince yourself there wasnât some serial killer lurking in the fog on the off chance a tempting victim wandered by. I laughed at the workings of my imagination, though I have to admit it was a little harder to shake off the silliness after my encounter in the alley.
I made it to the biggest of our athletic fields, which is situated at the bottom of a small hill and lined by weeping cherry trees that are breathtakingly beautiful in the spring. However, in the fog the bare branches added just that much more creepiness to the atmosphere. The heavy fog pooled at the base of the hill, making the athletic field invisible, so that it looked like the hill led into the abyss. I willed my imagination to take a break, but it had so much to work with it was having a blast.
Knowing I was being ridiculous, I nonetheless fished my keys out of my backpack. There was an air horn on the key ring, and I felt a little less vulnerable having it in my hand.
The field hockey team must have had a home game, because there was a full plastic trash barrel at the base of one of the cherry trees. Someone had knocked it over, and trash spewed onto the grass and sidewalk all around it. In other circumstances I might have set it upright
That didnât make detention any more fun. There were five of usâfour juniors and me, because apparently the seniors had been behaving themselves this weekâsitting silent in that classroom, working on our homework or daydreaming. The teacher didnât care what we did as long as it didnât involve cell phones, tablets, or talking. Thanks to being grounded, I was already well ahead in my homework, so I decided to work on one of the many college essays I would have to write, grumbling to myself and wishing each application didnât have a different essay question.
The weather had gotten warmer, the air just chilly now instead of freezing. As I worked on my essay and watched the sunlight fade as sunset approached, a bank of fog rolled in. For the millionth time, I wished my dad would get me a car, even if it was just some used clunker on its last legs. It was going to be almost completely dark by the time I got out of detention, and I knew from experience that the fog would be creepy as hell on this campus even in broad daylight. The streetlights were shaped to look like old-fashioned gas lanterns, and when there was fog, the damn things gave the place a Jack the Ripper vibe.
When detention was over, I hitched my backpack over one shoulder and set out into the fog, following the curve of the long driveway that led past the athletic fields to the schoolâs front gate. Several cars zipped by me as my fellow detainees were whisked home by their parents, and then there was nothing.
The fog was blocking out what little light was left from the setting sun, and I might as well have been walking through the campus at midnight. Thick as paste, it cut visibility to next to nothing. I knew I wasnât alone on the campusâthere were probably still teachers working, and the schoolâs beautiful Victorian main building even had faculty apartments for those who wanted the convenience of living close to work. But I couldnât see anyone. I couldnât even see the lights from any of the buildings. All I could see were those faux gaslights looming in the impenetrable fog.
It was actually kind of pretty, as long as you could convince yourself there wasnât some serial killer lurking in the fog on the off chance a tempting victim wandered by. I laughed at the workings of my imagination, though I have to admit it was a little harder to shake off the silliness after my encounter in the alley.
I made it to the biggest of our athletic fields, which is situated at the bottom of a small hill and lined by weeping cherry trees that are breathtakingly beautiful in the spring. However, in the fog the bare branches added just that much more creepiness to the atmosphere. The heavy fog pooled at the base of the hill, making the athletic field invisible, so that it looked like the hill led into the abyss. I willed my imagination to take a break, but it had so much to work with it was having a blast.
Knowing I was being ridiculous, I nonetheless fished my keys out of my backpack. There was an air horn on the key ring, and I felt a little less vulnerable having it in my hand.
The field hockey team must have had a home game, because there was a full plastic trash barrel at the base of one of the cherry trees. Someone had knocked it over, and trash spewed onto the grass and sidewalk all around it. In other circumstances I might have set it upright
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