NOAH.

I walked out of the school in hazy steps, still overwhelmed with my conversation with Mr. Kent.

As I made my way to the parkway, a car drove past me, the silver Volkswagen glistening under the afternoon sun.

I walked past the car, clearly not in the mood for games.

“Hey Noah,” I heard from behind me.

The voice was familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint where I heard it from before.

I swerved backwards only to see Mario, the serial killer. My hands flew to my mouth at the thought. ...