Manifest by Artist Arthur

hope so.
    The halls are empty, which seems strange. I’m so used to them being crowded with kids all the time. Yet the quiet is kind of calming after the past couple of days I’ve had. The main hallway, once you leave the administrative corridor, splits into two directions. If I turn to the left I’m headed toward the cafeteria and the library. To the right and it’s the gymnasium on one side and the auditorium on the other. I keep walking straight, toward the twin sets of double doors that will, thankfully, take me right outside to the bus stop.
    Then I feel it.
    Like this chill moving through my body. It starts at my ankles and quickly winds its way upward until I stop moving and shiver. Weird.
    I pull my jacket closer around my chest, adjust my book bag and purse then make like I’m heading for the door again.
    And I hear it.
    Crying. Somebody’s crying.
    I know I should keep on going out the door, my mind is screaming that I do so. Remember the last time I followed the sound of crying, ghost beach lady scared the bejesus out of me. Of course my feet are, like, detached from brain communication and instantly have me turning, heading in the direction I hear the crying.
    Noises are coming from the gym. Sneakers squeaking across the floor, a steady pounding, then a couple of yells and a whistle blowing. Basketball practice.
    But even over that hoopla, the crying echoes in my head. I keep walking right past the gym through the swinging doors that lead to the locker rooms. That hallway’s empty but the crying is getting louder. So I keep walking.
    To say that I’ve completely flipped would probably be an understatement. Here I am wandering through the halls after school hours looking for someone who’s crying. Someone who’s crying pretty doggone loud since I heard it from all the way near the front door and now I’m close to the equipment room.
    It stinks down here. Smells like sweat and funk. I wave a hand in front of my face as I continue on inside. Not only can I hear the crying loudest from here, but that chilliness in my body is starting to warm up a bit.
    Still I don’t see anybody and I’m about to give up this stupid chase and head home like I should be. But as I turn around to head back toward the door I see her.
    All the way in the corner, stuffed between the two floor-to-ceiling shelves holding basketballs, soccer balls and whatever other sports paraphernalia that could be squeezed into the small compartments. She’s sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around legs pulled up to her chin. Her head’s down but I know it’s a she because of the long red hair hanging around her like a blanket.
    I take a step toward her. Her head shakes as she continues to cry, loud, wrenching sobs that make me extremely uncomfortable. As I get closer, of course I’m wondering why she’s in here, what could have happened to her and what in the world I can possibly do for her. I’m focused on the body, the sounds echoing from it, my legs taking me closer and closer without my mind’s permission.
    Then, as if she hears my approach, her head shoots up and eyes big as saucers and dark as night look up at me. She opens her mouth, baring chipped and bloody teeth, and yells, Go away!
    Okay, now my mind has some control and I stumble backward bumping into some boxes I hadn’t even known were behind me. My bag and purse fall to the floor as I stumble to keep myself upright. My heart’s in my throat, the intense thumping almost clogging it so I can’t speak right away.
    Go away, I said! the girl repeats.
    “Ah.” I hear myself stuttering, my feet plant themselves in the spot where I stand, rejecting the run-like-hell thoughts in my head. “What happened to you? Um, is there someone I can call to come and get you?”
    The minute I say that, I know how stupid it sounds. Her hair’s matted against her head and her eyes, they don’t look quite right. And let’s not forget the blood trailing down her chin, mixing with the