Maggie slides her backpack off her shoulder and pulls her keys from her pocket to rest them on the conveyor belt.

"What are you doing?" Charlie blurts. A puzzled expression lines his face. He points at her hand. "Going somewhere?" 

She stares at the keys dangling from her fingers. "Old habits die hard, I guess," she says with a laugh, shrugging off her memories of Fallowshill High. She follows Charlie down a sun-lit hallway, with no armed guards or metal detectors in sight. They pass a Welcome to Cayder Bay High School– Home of the Fishermen sign.

Drew and Cay are walking with their arms wrapped around each other so tightly, they literally look attached at the hip.

"City Girl!" Drew calls out. 

Cay pulls Maggie's schedule from her hand and runs her finger down the list of Maggie's classes. "We have the same lunch! Meet me outside the cafeteria at 11:15." She tosses the paper to Maggie and continues down the hall, platinum ponytail swaying in time with her strut. She slides her hand down Drew's back and slips it into the back pocket of his Levi's.

Charlie stops in front of classroom 102-A and lifts his chin toward the door. "This is you," he says. "English Lit." 

The pit in Maggie's stomach spreads. 

"You good?" 

Maggie shakes her head. 

"You'll be okay," Charlie tells her. A dimple sinks into his cheek. 

The bell rings. 

Maggie stares down the hall and watches Charlie melt into a stream of students. He disappears around the corner. She eyes the Exit sign. Maybe she can try this again tomorrow. Will anyone even notice if she's not in class? 

"A-hem," a man with a greasy black comb-over coughs from the doorway. "You must be Margaret Krane. I'm Mr. Barnstable." He grasps the knob and swings the door wide open. "Please, come in. We've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" 

Mr. Barnstable laughs, revealing a gap between his two front teeth so gaping, it looks like he's still waiting for his grown up tooth to grow in. A bushy black mustache springs from his top lip and slides past the sides of his mouth to his chin. He looks down at his class list. "You are Margaret Krane, aren't you?" 

She gives a reluctant nod. 

"Well then, please come in." He stands back and holds his arm out to the side. 

Maggie takes a shaky step past the threshold. The lively hum of voices diminishes to a hush of whispered words. The classroom is full of unfamiliar faces. Except for one. Elison Blue is staring at her from the back of the room, tapping a pencil against his desk. Maggie darts to the first open seat she spots, at the front of the room, as far away from Eli as possible.

Mr. Barnstable grabs a book from his desk and spins the tips of his mustache between his fingers. The book's cover is creased and torn. He glances at Maggie. "I hope you're a Hemingway fan." He flips through pages, worn thin. "A-hem," he coughs. "He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff..." 

Maggie leans back into her chair. At least he has good taste in books.

The rest of the day, goes just like that – lingering stares, whispered words, awkward introductions, and Eli's hateful glares burning holes into her head. He's in every one of Maggie's classes, making her feel more uncomfortable than she imagined possible. Why does he hate her so much? Is it because she caught a glimpse of his secret sketches? Or because she told him about Dread? He's the one who made her the main character in his sketchbook of crazy town. If anyone should be mad at anyone, she should be mad at him! He can't just intrude upon her privacy and expect her to not say anything. What was she supposed to do? Pretend she didn't see what she saw and feel what she felt?

Maggie slams her locker door shut. She's had enough of Eli's hard glares and dismissive behavior. Who does he think he is? She's done nothing wrong. Nothing at all!  

She passes by the entire row of junior lockers, and paces through the library, the gym, and the cafeteria. Her hands clench into fists. From the cafeteria window, she spots the art and music wing. Eli was talking to the art teacher, Ms. Lane earlier in the day. Of course! That's where he is. 

A crescendo of mismatched notes and beats fills the air as Maggie paces to the end of the hall and pushes the door open. With its high vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows, the art room looks like a cathedral. Sunlight spills through the stain glass, blanketing the room in a red-yellow glow. 

She passes by charcoal drawings of flower vases and fruit bowls. A girl is battling a piece of clay on the potter's wheel, trying to convince it to be a vase when all it wants to be is a lump of clay. 

Eli is sitting at the rear of the room, pencil in hand, scribbling on the page. 

Maggie charges toward him. "You have no right to be mad at me," she shouts. 

Eli glances up from his sketchpad, his new buzz-cut revealing his slim, angular face. He stands to face her. His plaid flannel shirt falls open over a One Punch Man t-shirt. His jeans hang low on his waist. 

Maggie feels a throbbing ache run up the side of her neck. She's not used to chasing after fights. She's usually the one running away from them. 

Eli slides his pencil behind his ear. A faint scar spans the length of his temple. His jaw clenches. "I have every right to be mad at you, so stop messing with me." 

Maggie's cheeks burn hot. "Messing with you? What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"If this is about me seeing your precious sketches, get over it!" 

Eli takes a step closer, his arms stiff by his sides. "This is about you lying to me. You can't go around making things like that up, no matter how crazy you are." 

She peers at him through her lashes. Her eyes tighten with anger. "I'm not a liar. I told you the truth that day." 

He scoffs just like he did at the hospital. "That doesn't make you any less crazy." 

Her thoughts scratch at the places where the questions live. "I know you're hiding something. I can feel it." 

Eli breaks his gaze and glances at the door. His eyes narrow. 

"What are you looking at?" A layer of chill covers her skin.

"Nothing." His mouth is a straight, hard line. 

Maggie's heart thumps. "I know what this is. You see him, don't you? You see Dread." 

Eli shakes his head, returning his attention to Maggie. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Who's the liar now?" Maggie's voice cracks under the weight of her fear. "I have to get out of here." 

The girl at the potter's wheel has completely abandoned her clay in favor of the action unfolding at the other end of the room. 

"Don't you have a vase to make?" Maggie yells as she runs past her. 

Like a rabbit running from its prey, Maggie sprints out of the school. 

Dread bites at her heels. 

Maggie runs along bending twists and turns, past the police station, and through the cemetery's iron gates. Rows and rows of headstones are in perfect formation like soldiers standing at attention. A moss-covered mausoleum stands in the middle of the battalion, high on a grassy hill. 

Maggie wipes droplets of sweat from her warm pink skin. If Dread is a manifestation of her insanity, what will happen when he catches her? Only the panic – and as terrifying as the panic is, it will pass. It always passes – eventually. 

If Dread is real and catches her, what will happen then? What will he do? Capture her? Torture her? Kill her? Where is the line between hallucination and reality? Will she recognize the difference? 

To face the truth, she has to stop running. 

Stop running. 

She slows her sprint and drops to her knees. 

A gust of wind roars through the treetops, sending branches and leaves exploding through the air. 

The muscles in Maggie's back and neck tighten. She curls her fingers into fists. She fights the urge to run. She forces herself to wait. 

Wait.

Eli darts through the cemetery gates, like he's either running away from something or chasing after it. He spots Maggie and sprints toward her. "Maggie!" 

Their eyes lock. 

"Get up! Run!" 

She gulps at the air. It's getting harder to breathe. Dread is closing in. 

Wait.

"Run, Margaret!"

Wait!

"Maggie!"

Eli leaps on top of her and levels her to the ground. A gust of hurricane strength wind slams against them, sending their clothes flapping in every direction. Eli envelopes his body over hers like a shield.

A raging sea roars above them. 

A thunderous boom shakes the earth below them. 

A lightning strike illuminates the sky. 

Metal clashes against metal, as loud and shrieking as a car crash.

"We have to run," Eli yells. 

Maggie clasps his hand and the two of them run as hard as they can against the force of the wind's pull.

"There," Maggie shouts, pointing at the mausoleum. 

Like soldiers fleeing enemy fire, they sprint to the stone tomb and crouch behind it. 

Eli's breathing is ragged. 

Maggie grasps her chest to keep her lungs from bursting free of it. 

Dark clouds explode with fire and light. 

Sparks fly. 

Eli's eyes narrow and fix on the treetops.

Clashes and clangs erupt.

Dirt swirls around Maggie's face, lifting her hair. "What's happening?" she shouts. 

Hollow screams screech and wail into the distance. 

The air stills and the cemetery's eerie silence returns. 

"It's over," Eli says. 

"What was that?" Maggie asks.

Eli stands, brushing dirt and dust off his jeans. 

"Why won't you answer me? What did you see?" 

Eli's face is as hard as stone. He grips her hand and pulls her to standing. "Nothing."

Her eyes widen. "Nothing?" 

Eli shrugs. "It was just some freak wind storm." 

Maggie clenches her fists. "Stop lying to me!" She pushes against his chest, as if the force of it will somehow shake the truth right out of him. 

He grits his teeth. 

She pushes him again. "Tell me the truth." 

"Maggie, stop!" Sweat drips down the side of his face.

She pushes him again. "Tell me you saw Dread, Eli." 

"Stop!"

She pushes him again. "Tell me I'm not insane." 

He wraps his arms around her like a strait jacket. 

She drops her fists and buries her head into his chest. Eli's breathing is ragged beneath her. His heart is a jackhammer in her ear. She lets out a slow, shaky breath and lifts her eyes to his. "I'm not messing with you so please don't mess with me. If you saw Dread, I need to know."

He releases his grip from around her and leans against a headstone. He kicks at the dirt. A dust cloud wraps around his ankle like a snake. "Why?" Desperation lines his voice. "Why can't you just let it be?"

"Because right now, I'm feeling pretty insane." She fumbles for the gold chain around her neck. "And if I'm not insane, I really need to know." 

Eli's face softens. His voice drops to a whisper. "Do you know what you're asking me to do?"

"I'm asking you to tell the truth." 

"You're asking me to risk everything. You're asking me to put my sanity on the line."

"Don't you get it? Your sanity already is on the line, Eli. And so is mine." 

Eli's shoulders sink. "I --I --" He closes his eyes and shakes his head.  

Maggie inches closer. "You, what? Please tell me." 

Eli inhales a full round breath and slowly opens his eyes. "I saw him. I saw him choking you at the hospital, and I saw him hunting you today. Is that what you want to hear?" 

The sting of shock pulls at Maggie's face. She stumbles over the words. "Yes... I mean... No."

"You see Maggie, we can't win either way. Either you're insane or there is a monster hunting you. Either I'm insane or I can hear and see beings that no one else can hear or see."

"At least we know the truth."

"The truth?" he scoffs. "We're better off taking the meds Dr. B gives us and forgetting about the truth."

Maggie shakes her head. "I can't forget. I won't forget." 

"And besides, just because I can see Dread, doesn't mean we're not insane!" He kicks at the dirt again, sending dust swirling around Maggie's legs. "Maybe we're sharing some crazy hallucination." He thumbs at his chest. "I'd rather accept my insanity than go around hunting down the monsters in my head."

Tears prick the corners of Maggie's eyes. "He's not just in my head! Or your head! He's real! A dry thud forms in the back of her throat. "It's hunt or be hunted, and I refuse to be prey anymore."

Eli shakes his head. "You're so --"

Maggie stiffens. "What? I'm so what?" 

"Frustrating!" He slaps his hands together as if he's wiping himself clean of her. "Good luck with your hunt, Maggie Krane. Just leave me out of it!" 

The wind blows fierce through the trees.

Maggie leans against the mausoleum as she watches Eli walk away toward the iron gate. 

                                                          💙💙💙

Cemetery Sketch: http://karlsimon.blogspot.com/2009/03/another-cemetery-sketch.html