The pamphlet in Beatrix''s hand read, “When the Undead Pass On: A Guide to Grieving and Healing” in a fancy gothic font. The cover displayed a picture of a sad, misty graveyard.
This was a pretty bleak introduction to the Monster Sensitivity Seminar, or “MSS,” as Bloodgood had called it.
The seminar had been rescheduled multiple times and relocated to a new classroom in the west wing of campus because the original spot was deemed too close to the crime scene.
On the north side of campus, just outside the iron fence that encircled the school, the security team was conducting an investigation in the woods. Yellow barricade tape closed off the area to keep curious students away.
Ever since the first day of classes, when the shocking news had broken, a gloom had hung over Monster High. Remembrance photos of the deceased student were plastered everywhere in the halls, the botanical club had planted a garden in the dead student’s memory, and a memorial service had taken place in the screamatorium.
The student’s name was Gilda Goldstag, a horned monster who was well-known around campus and loved to spend her free time reading classic literature in nature.
But there was something about Gilda’s untimely death that intrigued Beatrix: the cause of it.
No one had publicly explained what had happened—not the school newspaper, not the teachers, not even Bloodgood. The adults on campus were oddly tight lipped on the subject.
Regardless of how many times Beatrix asked the other lunch ladies about what they’d heard, she stayed in the dark. Rumors were flying around, but it seemed like no one knew the truth for certain.
Based on the snippets Beatrix had overhead while dishing out food in the creepateria, poor Gilda could have slipped on a rock and hit her head, or been stung by a bee and suffered a fatal allergic reaction out in the woods.
But those theories didn’t explain the sudden increase in Monster High security, with guards now stationed at every entrance to the school, or the new rule put in place forbidding students from leaving the grounds without written permission.
Something more must have been discovered at the scene of Gilda’s death, something more nefarious than just a slip or a bee sting. Beatrix could feel it in her bones.
At the front of the classroom, Johannah, the seminar leader, uncapped a marker and began writing on a whiteboard. “I know this is a tough time for all of us, so if any of you need someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to reach out. Here’s my number,” Johannah said, jotting down her contact information.
Johannah Carpenter was a senior student who ran MSS every Saturday for elective credit. Although she looked like an average human with mousy brown hair and plain features, the other MSS members secretly called her “The Thing” behind her back. Beatrix hadn’t figured out the reason for the nickname yet, but it sounded ominous.
“While we wait for Mr. Gore, let’s go around and introduce ourselves,” Johannah said.
A nervous-looking boy sitting in the back row went first. “Uh, hi. M-my name is Jackson. I’m a sophomore,” he stammered. The way Jackson fumbled with his headphones reminded Beatrix of how Autumn picked at her seams when she was stressed.
“And what monster type are you, Jackson?” Johannah asked.
“Half-normie, half-creature. Kinda,” Jackson answered vaguely, shifting in his seat.
“Everyone, let’s give Jackson a warm welcome.”
“Hi, Jackson,” the group droned.
“Alright. Who’s next?” Johannah asked, scanning the room.
A small silver werewolf with a mane of ruffled fur and glinting green eyes sat in front of Jackson. It was the same scrappy werewolf Beatrix had seen roughhousing with Clawd in the creepateria the other week.
“Name’s Orion,” the werewolf boy said. “I’m a freshman. Got bit by a werewolf last summer. It’s been pretty painful. I’ve got all this hair now and I still can’t grow a beard.”
“Hi, Orion,” the group droned.
Next up was a stout boy with a mop of curly hair and round glasses. He looked stuffy in his wool sweater vest, sweat beading on his upper lip. “I’m Guillermo. I''m a junior, and I’m a familiar,” he said importantly, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Beatrix’s interest was piqued. The only kind of “familiar” she knew about were the devil familiars that assisted witches. She wondered how Guillermo defined it.
Orion let out a scoff, turning to sneer at Guillermo. “That’s not a monster type. You’re just a normie. Even worse, a lame, co-dependent normie.”
“That’s not true!” Guillermo protested.
“Must be hard being a normie who follows bloodsuckers around all day like a lost puppy, begging for their approval,” Orion taunted, flashing his sharp canines in a wicked grin.
“Boys, let’s calm down,” Johannah tried to cut in.
“I won’t be human for much longer, I’ll have you know!” Guillermo insisted, a sheen of sweat now glistening across his forehead. “My master promised to turn me into a vampire by the end of the year!”
“Ha! Good luck with that! We all know how well bloodsuckers keep their promises,” Orion roared with laughter.
A guttural, inhuman growl came from Johannah’s throat. “Boys!”
Johannah’s face suddenly burst open with a sickening ripping sound, revealing layers of glistening flesh and a nightmarish mouth full of needle-sharp teeth.
The entire group watched in horror as Johannah’s gruesome face distorted.
“That’s better,” Johannah said, her flayed face closing back up and knitting together in the blink of an eye.
I guess her nickname makes sense now… Beatrix thought.
With Johannah’s soft features back to normal, she nonchalantly pointed a finger at Beatrix. “Your turn.”
Before Beatrix could collect herself, the classroom door swung open. Beatrix expected it to be Mr. Gore, the teacher in charge of overseeing these weekend seminars, but she was dead wrong.
“What brings you here, Grey?” Johannah asked.
Grey''s large frame encompassed the doorway, and his blacked-out eyes immediately landed on Beatrix.
“I got permission from Bloodgood to help run MSS,” he stated matter-of-factly, not breaking eye contact with Beatrix.
“Really? That’s weird,” Johannah said. “Bloodgood didn’t tell me.”
Grey pulled out a neatly folded piece of official stationery from his black denim jacket and handed it to Johannah. The Headmistress''s signature was clearly visible.
After reading it over, Johannah said, “Alright then, the more the merrier. We were just about to hear our last introduction.” She looked at Beatrix expectantly.
Grey sat down in the vacant chair next to Johannah at the front of the room, leaning back and crossing his burly arms over his chest, like he was challenging Beatrix to speak.
Somehow, Grey’s presence managed to rattle Beatrix more than Johannah''s grotesque face ripping apart. Beatrix didn’t scare easily, but something about him set her on edge.
However, Beatrix was determined not to let it show. “I''m Beatrix. I work here as a student aid for my friend and do some shifts in the creepateria. Oh, and I’m a witch,” she said with cool indifference, as if discussing the weather.
You could have heard a pin drop as Jackson, Orion, and Guillermo stared at her.
“Then… where’s your pointy hat and broomstick?” Orion blurted out.
“Since when were witches allowed at Monster High?” Guillermo asked suspiciously.
“Since Bloodgood gave this one special permission to work here,” Grey said, sounding less than thrilled.
Beatrix crossed her arms defiantly, mirroring Grey’s closed-off body language. She raised her chin and met his gaze head on. “The headmistress said you needed a witch to serve you lunch slop, so here I am. Take it up with her.”
The corners of Grey’s lips twitched a bit, as if he was trying not to smirk at her boldness, but he went back to his usual cold expression in an instant.
Beatrix thought back to the first day of school, when she’d seen Grey rush out of the creepateria during lunch. She still hadn’t pinned down what he’d been up to that day, but she and Autumn were convinced that he was the one who’d told everyone she was a witch.
And now, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, here he was leading the seminar she was required to attend all year. Beatrix gritted her teeth.
“Anyway…” Johannah began, clasping her hands together, “Mr. Gore is running late, so let''s kick off today’s session without him. Today, we’re diving into the basics of monster transformations and how—”
“Johannah,” Grey interrupted, “we should tell them about how monsters die.”
Johannah looked taken aback. “Uh, I don’t know, Grey. That seems a little heavy for our first meeting… We should try to ease them into things.”
“A student was killed. It’s the perfect time to talk about it,” Grey said bluntly.
Beatrix felt her breath catch in her throat. Gilda was killed? She didn’t know if Gilda''s cause of death was common knowledge yet. The faculty had never confirmed anything that sinister. So why did Grey sound so convinced?
Beatrix glanced around the classroom, trying to gauge if anyone else was taken off guard by the news. However, the rest of the class didn’t seem as shocked as she was, almost like they already suspected foul play.
She then noticed Orion the werewolf narrowing his eyes at Guillermo, almost accusatory, and she didn’t understand why.
Beatrix could feel her frustration mounting by the second. She hated that she only knew what was happening at Monster High from what Autumn and the lunch ladies told her.
Before the tense silence could stretch on for too long, Jackson spoke up, “I was wondering how the whole concept of death worked in the monster world.”
Jackson’s curiosity was the only encouragement Grey needed to take the reins.
Grey wiped the whiteboard clean, grabbed a black dry erase marker, and drew a thick line down the center of the board, dividing it into two sections.
On the left side of the line, he wrote “The Living” in bold letters. On the right, “The Living Dead.”
“Alright, listen up. I’m going to assume you guys already understand the basics of death for the Living,” Grey began.
Jackson’s hand shot up reflexively.
“No need for that. Just spit it out,” Grey said gruffly.
“Sorry, sir. Uh, I mean…” Jackson went red but continued, “When a Living person dies, their soul moves on to the afterlife for judgment. At least, that’s what I’ve always heard.”
“You’re missing one thing,” Johannah said. “Reapers. They’re the ones who collect a Living person’s soul and guide it to the afterlife. Right, Grey?”
Grey seemed reluctant to dive into a discussion about Reapers. “Yeah, that’s right. Anyway, in the afterlife, souls get judged by a higher power and their fate is decided.”
Grey paused, giving everyone a moment to absorb his words. Then he pointed to the other side of the board. “But for the Living Dead, it’s a different story. Think about ghosts, for example: they used to be mortal, but now they’re stuck in limbo. Maybe a ghost thinks they have unfinished business here, maybe they managed to avoid a Reaper’s scythe, or maybe they’ve been cursed to stay put. Whatever it is, ghosts aren’t following the usual ‘life to afterlife’ cycle.”You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Jackson looked up from the rigorous notes he was taking. “So you’re saying all monsters cheat death?”
“Exactly,” Grey said. “Monsters have found a loophole, a way to cheat the system and avoid the whole afterlife thing. They’re going against the laws of nature, clinging to a rare existence between life and afterlife by sticking around in an undead body or transforming into something else.”
“You’re talking like you don’t consider yourself a monster too,” Beatrix said.
Grey’s black eyes flicked towards her.
“Grey’s the son of the Grim Reaper,” Johannah explained. “Reapers have a unique role in the monster world. They’re a neutral party when it comes to the Living and the Living Dead.”
“If you’re a Reaper, and monsters are cheating death, isn’t it your job to…” Jackson trailed off.
“To send monsters to the afterlife?” Grey finished for him.
Jackson gulped, nodding.
“It’s not that simple,” Grey said.
“There’s different rules for Reapers when it comes to the Living Dead,” Johannah said. “There’s treaties, ancient agreements that stop Reapers from collecting monster souls whenever they want. Reapers have agreed to leave certain monster groups alone.”
It was like Grey could read Beatrix’s mind, because he followed up with, “So with all these rules surrounding the Living Dead, you must be wondering how it’s possible Gilda Goldstag died.”
This is where Johannah took the reins back. “We don’t want to freak anyone out, but just because you’re supernatural doesn’t mean you’re invincible. Even though monsters aren’t affected by natural causes of death, there’s still plenty of stuff that can take you out: stakes to the heart, getting your head chopped off, being doused in holy water, getting set on fire, silver daggers, angry mobs with pitchforks and torches…”
Beatrix had to bite her tongue to keep from cackling out loud. Johannah’s list of things to avoid sounded beyond reasonable.
“One more thing," Grey said. "There’s monsters here far older and stronger than you. Watch out for them too.”
“You mean monsters like you?” Beatrix asked. She couldn’t resist the urge to needle him.
Grey stared at her, his face unreadable.
“I’m confused. Earlier, you said that Reapers are a neutral party. That makes it sound like you’re not a true monster at all,” Beatrix challenged. “It’s interesting, witches aren’t technically monsters either. I guess we have a lot in common.” Her pent up frustration at Grey was slipping out.
“I’m a monster, but I’m not only a monster,” Grey said, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m the Lord of Death.” He looked very self-important standing before Beatrix.
It drove her batty.
“You mean your dad’s the ‘Lord of Death.’ You’re just a high schooler,” Beatrix shot back.
“I’ll take over my father’s position eventually. You’re splitting hairs.”
Beatrix laughed. “Oh, really? Well, as a witch, I’ll eventually be an ally to devils in the underworld. So I guess you could call me a ‘Lady of Hell.’ Does that make me monster-enough for you?”
“‘A Lady of Hell?’ Funny. You’ve never been a monster, and you never will be.”
The rest of the class moved their heads side to side, following the verbal sparring match between Beatrix and Grey.
“Excuse me? You act like you’re the expert on witches. What do you know?” Beatrix said.
“I know that witches are just glorified humans that stick their noses in places they don’t belong,” Grey spat. “And running errands for a devil doesn’t make you a ‘Lady.’ It makes you a slave.”
“Sorry I’m late, folks!”
A balding middle-aged troll hurried in, panting and holding a binder of lesson plans. “I had trouble finding the right classroom, hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
Johannah breathed a sigh of relief. “Mr. Gore, glad you could make it. We were about to go over the basics of monster transformations.”
Mr. Gore started lecturing as Grey cleared the white board and quietly took a seat.
Throughout the entire mind-numbing hour, Beatrix’s blood boiled. If Grey noticed her glaring at him, he didn’t show it.
Once the seminar finally came to a close and Mr. Gore dismissed them, Beatrix gathered up her things and made a beeline for the door. All she wanted was to put as much distance between herself and that infuriating reaper as possible.
Beatrix was the first one out the door, speed-walking past the endless line of lockers in the winding hallway. She heard footsteps chasing after her.
“I can’t believe you talked to Grey like that!” Guillermo exclaimed, breathless as he caught up to Beatrix, with Orion and Jackson flanking her on either side.
Beatrix tossed her raven hair over one shoulder, irritated. “Who does Grey think he is, calling himself ‘the Lord of Death''?”
“Grey’s dad is a big deal,” Guillermo said. “The Grim Reaper is the CEO of Death Co., the top soul-collecting company of the underworld. Rumor is, he’s got God on speed dial.”
“Oh really? And how does a normie geek like you know so much about the Grim Reaper?” Orion mocked, his furry ears twitching as he sized Guillermo up.
Guillermo pushed his glasses up with a huff. “For your information, fleabag, I know everything about the upper echelons of monster society. To serve my master, I pride myself on acquiring a thorough knowledge of—”
Orion rolled his eyes. “We get it, already. You’re Draculaura’s familiar. You can quit reminding us every five seconds.”
Beatrix’s mind flashed back to her first day working at the creepateria. She remembered Greta, the goblin lunch lady, carefully handling a special blood bag for Draculaura, labeled: “Veterinary use.”
That vegetarian vampire is Guillermo’s ‘master?’ Beatrix wondered, putting two and two together.
“Hey, if the Grim Reaper is so powerful, how come Grey got suspended last year?” Orion asked.
“Well,” Guillermo started, ready to show off his knowledge, “having a powerful dad is the reason why Grey only got suspended. Anyone else would’ve been expelled.”
“What''d Grey do?” Beatrix asked.
“I heard he got into a ton of fights,” Orion said. “Put a bunch of kids in the infirmary. Even the toughest monsters are scared to mess with him now.”
“No, no no,” Guillermo argued, shaking his head vehemently. “The vampires said he got suspended because he kept ditching class.”
“All I know is Grey scares me,” Jackson said. Jackson had been silent up until now, clutching the straps of his bulging backpack.
Beatrix looked at the shy boy with new eyes. Clearly he’d picked up on the same unsettling energy from Grey that she had.
Jackson added, “I just don’t get why Grey volunteered to lead MSS this semester. He never cared about it last year.”
Beatrix wasn’t following. “Hold up. Jackson, did you take MSS last year too?”
“Yeah. Bloodgood made me repeat the seminar.” Jackson didn’t seem comfortable sharing why, so Beatrix didn’t push for more.
Beatrix then remembered she had somewhere to be and picked up her pace. “See you guys next week!” she called over her shoulder.
“Where are you running off to?” Orion shouted after her.
“Fearleading tryouts!”
“Ugh, don’t be a fearleader! They’re so snooty!” the werewolf groaned, his snout wrinkling.
At that, steam practically blew out of Guillermo’s ears. “How dare you! My master''s on the fearleading team and she''s the opposite of snooty! She’s the epitome of grace—”
Beatrix tuned out their bickering and left them behind.
She wasn’t the one trying out for fearleading. Autumn was.
Although Frankie had been shocked at first to learn about Beatrix''s witchy identity, she''d warmed up again and had been teaching Autumn fearleading choreography for days now, helping the scarecrow memorize a bunch of cheers backwards and forwards. According to Autumn, Frankie had been brought to life a year ago, which was why she was so good-natured about everything.
At first, Beatrix had tried to talk Autumn out of trying out for the fearleading team. She was worried Autumn would end up torn and mangled from getting tossed around. But Autumn had insisted on going.
When Beatrix walked into the gym, a group of ghouls formed a teetering pyramid in the center of the casketball court. And to Beatrix’s horror, Autumn was perched right at the very top.
“Steady! Keep formation! No room for weakness!” Cleo’s haughty voice ordered, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Your spot on this team depends on it!”
Beatrix’s heart was in her throat. Autumn needs to get down from there. She was about to yell it out, but it was too late.
An orange werecat at the base of the pyramid wobbled under the combined weight of all the ghouls, and the pyramid collapsed in on itself like a flimsy house of cards, sending ghouls tumbling to the floor.
In a flash, Beatrix was at Autumn’s side, checking for any tears or straw sticking out of her friend. “Autumn! You okay? Did you rip anything?”
Autumn sat up and patted Beatrix’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry! I’m fine.”
“What is the witch doing here?” Cleo sneered, looking down at Beatrix like she was something she’s scraped off the bottom of her sandal.
“What were you thinking?” Beatrix snapped. “Autumn''s fragile!” Beatrix cringed at her choice of words. Referring to Autumn as “fragile” made her sound like her aunts.
Cleo raised an eyebrow. “What am I, her mummy? She wanted to be at the top. And watch how you speak to me, sorceress.”
Before Beatrix could react, Autumn said, “Cleo’s right, Bea. I volunteered!”
“Why? I told you to be careful!” Beatrix scolded.
“I wanted to… I don’t know…” Autumn twisted her fingers together anxiously.
“Autumn, if you’re going to be so high maintenance, you won’t be a good fit for this squad,” Cleo said.
“Told you I shoulda been up top,” the orange werecat who messed up the pyramid grumbled.
Autumn was begging now. “Please, Cleo, this was a one time thing! Bea was just surprised! I’m fine!”
The reality of the situation hit Beatrix. She was making Autumn look bad.
Beatrix then realized that the entire group of ghouls attending tryouts were glaring at her venomously.
Thankfully, someone else spoke up.
“Oh, can it already, de Nile. Let the scarecrow join. She’ll be a good flyer, she’s literally weightless,” a werewolf girl said.
“Clawdeen, stay out of it,” Cleo snapped.
“But Clawdeen’s right, Cleo!” Frankie jumped in. “Autumn is killing it!”
Cleo paused, looking like she might double down, but after a moment, the mummy exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll show mercy.”
Frankie cheered with joy, clapping her green hands together with a zap of electricity, and Autumn had a stitched smile stretching from ear to ear.
Beatrix was relieved she hadn’t jeopardized Autumn’s chances of making the squad.
“Back in formation, people!” Cleo ordered.
Since Beatrix didn’t want to stir up any more trouble, she wandered over to the rickety metal bleachers, plopping down to watch from afar as Cleo bossed everyone around with a new fearleading routine.
The werewolf girl strolled over and joined Beatrix. “Ignore Cleo. She’s a real piece of work.”
“Tell me about it," Beatrix groaned. "Thanks for stepping in back there." Beatrix meant it. Clawdeen seemed to be one of the only ghouls in the gym who wasn’t interested in being openly hostile to her.
“Don’t mention it.” Clawdeen pointed a manicured claw past Beatrix’s head, to the corner of the gym. “By the way, are those guys with you?”
Beatrix followed Clawdeen’s gaze and saw Orion, Guillermo, and Jackson huddling together, gawking at the fearleaders like they’d never seen female monsters before.
“Kinda,” Beatrix said, noticing how out of place the trio looked. “I’m taking the Monster Sensitivity Seminar with them.”
“Ooh, I’ve been dying to know — how are you liking MSS so far?” a high pitched voice said right next to Beatrix’s ear.
Beatrix spun around, finding herself face to face with a pink-skinned vampire sitting behind her on the bleachers. The vampire had appeared out of thin air.
Guillermo had mentioned his “master” was on the fearleading team. This had to be Draculaura.
“MSS has been… interesting,” Beatrix replied, remembering her heated argument with Grey.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, I’m just so excited to finally meet the witch on campus!” Draculaura squealed, violet eyes scanning Beatrix’s face with curiosity. “I’ve been around for over a thousand years and haven’t met someone like you before. Can you believe it? Well, there’s a first time for everything! If you ever need anything, anything at all, please let me know and I’ll send Guillermo to help! He’s my best familiar yet.”
"Wow, uh, thank you,” Beatrix said, overwhelmed by Draculaura’s peppiness. But then a question sprung into her mind. “Oh yeah, I was wondering, what exactly is a ‘familiar’ to vampires? Is Guillermo, like, your servant or something?” she asked.
“He’s more like my personal assistant. He helps me manage my social calendar," Draculaura explained.
“Oh, gotcha,” Beatrix said. A bit different than a devil familiar then. “Guillermo said you''re gonna turn him into a vampire someday. Is that true?”
Draculaura stifled a giggle. “Maybe one day, but probably not. My dad would never approve. But don’t tell Guillermo, it’ll break his sweet normie heart."
Beatrix felt a pang of sympathy for Guillermo. It sounded like Orion had been spot on when he’d said vampires didn’t keep their promises.
Beatrix refocused her attention on the gym floor below, where Autumn was practicing cheer moves with pink pom poms, her straw braids bouncing with every jump.
“Your friend’s got potential,” Clawdeen remarked as Autumn attempted a high kick. “I’m glad Frankie recruited her. We really need fresh blood on the squad… you know, to fill Gilda’s shoes.”
“The ghoul that died?” Beatrix asked.
“Yeah,” Clawdeen softly confirmed, her golden eyes distant. “She was one of us.” There was a moment of silence. Clawdeen was lost in thought.
“I’m so sorry. Losing a teammate must’ve been…” Beatrix didn’t know what to say, feeling awkward.
Draculaura gave Beatrix a small smile to put her at ease. “Thank you, Beatrix. You’d think we’d be accustomed to morbid stuff like this, being undead and all. What’s really upsetting is how the school’s handling the situation.”
Clawdeen’s fur bristled. "They ain’t handling it at all. They’re just sweeping it under the rug like nothing happened!"
Beatrix hesitated, recalling what Grey had mentioned about Gilda''s death, and tried to choose her next words carefully. “Did the school ever find out what happened to her?”
Clawdeen and Draculaura glanced at each other. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them in that moment.
Beatrix backpedaled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
But Clawdeen stopped her, sounding calmer now. "Let''s just say me and ‘laura have our own theories about what went down. And we’re not happy with how the school’s turning a blind eye.”
“I’ve been telling Bloodgood for ages that things would only get worse if they didn’t take action…” Draculaura muttered, her violet eyes turning cold.
“I don’t understand…” Beatrix said.
Clawdeen looked around the gymnasium, making sure no one was eavesdropping, before leaning in close to Beatrix, her volume lowering. “Listen, it ain’t a secret that things can get sketchy here after the sun goes down. Some monsters get a little too comfortable. And since the administration doesn''t seem interested in figuring out what happened to Gilda—”
“You need to be careful,” Draculaura finished for her, firm. “Don’t go wandering around campus alone at night if you can help it.” She paused, a haunted look passing over her pink features. “The truth is, not everyone plays by the rules here.”
A shrill whistle pierced the air, making the ghouls jump. It was Cleo.
Clawdeen sighed. "Duty calls. We gotta go before Cleo has a royal fit." She looked back at Beatrix one last time. "Just watch your back, okay? And if you notice anything weird, let us know."
The werewolf jogged off to join the rest of the fearleading squad, with Draculaura following close behind. Beatrix watched them go, her mind reeling from their conversation. Between their words and Grey''s earlier, one thing was abundantly clear — there was more to worry about at Monster High than simply not fitting in, something the monsters here didn’t want to talk about out loud.
As Beatrix sat alone on the bleachers, the once lively gym suddenly felt threatening, the fluorescent lights harsh overhead.
There was something seriously wrong at this school.