Chapter 9: Start of the End

Hue (Trigger warning: Bullying, Suicidality, Mentions of Suicide)

I was relieved that June hadn't heard anything besides some rumors and nothing more.

When I left his room, I went straight to my bed where the book lay covered with clothes. I had lied about where the book was; I was curious, naturally. This book probably held a lot of secrets about who June was, but I hesitated thinking about June Sekin. I flipped open the book.

A picture fell out of a boy and girl who looked strikingly similar to June. It was obvious that they were related. He had the same dark hair, the same smile, and the same eyes. The only difference between this boy and June was their height and their face shape. June Sekin had a more chiseled face; his high cheekbones set them apart. June's face shape resembled his mother's.

At first, the diary entries weren't close together.

Three months.

Two months.

One month.

I realized they were getting closer, from weeks to days, until the gap was only one day. I sensed a sadness in the pages as I read; April, who I supposed was June's mom and June Sekin's older sister, seemed to be the source.

At the star, she was only ignoring him. Then the death wishes came. She then turned his friends against him, leaving him alone. Things seemed to continue like this for months.

I continued to read, but I already knew the outcome.

"Maybe I did something in a past life to deserve this. I still love my sister, even though she took everything from me. I hope she lives a life I couldn't seem to live. I'm sorry for always running away. Forgive me.

-June S."

The writing stopped after that.

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June

I supposed being quiet at school wouldn't help anything, so the next day I followed Hue. People had a new topic; the smart, weird new kid was following the most popular kid in school. The girls glared at me like I was competition.

He was always greeting new people; I guess he really was popular. Each one of them looked at me weirdly, but nobody said anything.

Except Selene

She had medium brown hair a little past her shoulders and had too much energy, the kind of person who gave you no choice but to be their friend. I wasn't going to complain- she seemed nice. I don't think any soul on the earth could've hated her.

"You must be June. Alright, let's go." She practically pulled my arm off as we entered the cafeteria. She spotted a boy sitting at a table across the room and eagerly waved, jumping while flailing her arms.

"Hey! Hey over here!"

"Selene. He can hear you. Jesus, you have such a big mouth, so why don't you get us all food; I'll take him over to Key."

"Again, your asking me because your too lazy to lift your giraffe legs." She kicked his shin and he kicked back at her.

"Your lucky June is here. I'll be nice and let you go this time. Let's go." Hue said.

Selene skipped over to the store, grinning from one side to the other.

"Seems like you guys are quite close." I remarked.

"I've known her since we were little; she's like a little sister to me. Come one." I followed him to the table where the boy sat.

"Okay this is Key. Key, this is June, don't be an asshole."

"I know who he is also since when was I an asshole?" Key said, hurt.

"Since birth, don't fool yourself."

"Selly is back. Yo, hurry up. We're going to starve over here." Key pretended to die, leaning back and ultimately falling off the seat.

It was an odd crowd, but I felt safe.

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Thursday went surprisingly fast.

Yesterday I found a spot in the gym where I could sit and watch Hue play basketball without being seen. It was odd how many students came to watch him; he was good, of course, and I could never beat him, but they were just scrimmage games. Real games didn't start for another month or so.

After a while, even my music couldn't drown out the screams, so I decided to check out the school instead. There wasn't much on the first floor, just the gym, cafeteria, principal's office, and some classrooms.

In the middle was a display case filled with basketball awards collected over the years and the picture of the teams that won them. One person stood out: he was always in the middle, ahead of everyone else. My uncle must have been a star player. In every championship picture, he was there, drawing attention to him. There were three pictures like that, and after the third year, he disappeared. The team didn't go to championships that year but got eliminated in the first round of playoffs.

The players looked sad.

The next floor was just classrooms.

The hallways were empty; rows of desks neatly sat as I passed through the freshman rooms and into the final senior rooms. The third floor was the club rooms.

There was a band club, knitting club, chess club, volleyball club, and more. In the art club, canvas and paint filled the room, except for one corner. I walked into the room, approached the corner and investigated. At first, it only seemed like two large selves that went floor to ceiling, but it became apparent that they were sectioning off a space, creating a little room. To the naked eye, nobody would have seen the hole cleverly obscured by boxes unless they went back there, which clearly nobody did.

I made sure not to move much and disturb the dust; this place was obviously supposed to stay hidden. Against the wall, I shifted some boxes forward just enough to get in. By pushing it forward away from the wall, nobody would notice if dust moved behind them. At one point, one of the shelves had collapsed to the side and was now leaning against the wall. It was obvious nobody had wanted to replace it, so they left it, simply making it sturdier with more boards.

Talk about handiwork.

It was pitch dark inside except for a few slivers of light that showed through cracks in the collapsed shelf. I took out the phone Hue had given me and turned on the flashlight to reveal canvas paintings. I don't know what I expected, but Id hoped it was more than that. The biggest ones propped up against the wall, showing bright colors and intricate designs; whoever had made them was talented. As I moved closer to see them, I saw a box filled with smaller canvases. Intrigued, I took one out. It was very Bob Ross-esque; a forest scene and a small river through the middle.

The next one was the cottage.

The same cottage I found that night, but who would have painted it? It was on a hill surrounded by trees, far from the city below. Nobody should have known about it. I turned it over, and a neatly written name was on the back;

June Sekin

Of course, it was him. He kept showing up everywhere I looked. But why was it here?

The paintings got darker after that. The black paint spiraled on the canvas.

Chaos.

Confusion.

Turmoil.

Sadness.

Death.