The blank page glared up at me, demanding something. Doodling used to be my favorite pass time but recently I couldn’t bring myself to draw so much as a smiley face.

  I tapped my pencil eraser to my chin thoughtfully as music played softly from my earbuds. What to draw, what to draw?

  “Are you ready to join the class now?” My art teacher, Mr. Fillingim, drummed on my table as he walked by.

  Jesus.

  I muttered a quick “sorry” and tugged my earbuds out. I slumped down in my seat as he continued to stroll around.

  “As I was saying,” Mr. Fillingim adjusted his orange bow tie in an affronted manner. “This town is very under-appreciated and that’s quite unfortunate… In fact, if you ignore the astronomical taxes this place is paradise!” He chuckled at the joke. Of course, as sophomores, none of us knew or cared about taxes so the “joke” fell flat. Mr. Fillingim stared out at the silent class and sighed. Honestly, I felt bad for him (sometimes).

  “Right. Well, as a concerned senior citizen, I’m giving you a project on appreciation for the little things in town. The simple everyday things you drive by without a second thought, I want you to take notice of them. And then I want you to write a detailed report on their history or current impact and make a poster board describing why they’re incredible. Yes?”

  Jake, a bulky white kid on the wrestling team, had his hand raised. “So, we could choose to do our project on a lamp post or something?”

  Mr. Fillingim smiled. “If you’re willing to write about a lamppost Mr. Gordon, I’d say go for it.”

  Jake shrugged. Mr. Fillingim was weird sure, but he was also un-bullyable. Most old teachers are like that.

  “Now, this will be a group project due on the Kalends of November. Does anyone know when that is?” He looked out at the class expectantly.

  But, as usual, no one had a clue what he was talking about.

  “That means the First of November! Come on children, haven’t we discussed this?” He sighed as we shook our heads. “Well, that gives you quite enough time to make the most amazing reports ever!” He clapped his hands gleefully. “Also, it will make up 50% of your grade this quarter.”

  This little closing remark sent the class into a complete and utter frenzy. Either people were trying to form groups out of their exhaustingly large friend groups, or they were going into shock at the idea that this random project was worth 50% of our grades. Usually in art classes you can get away with doing the bare minimum, so the idea of having to do an actual project with a poster board and everything was astonishing.

  “Order! Order people!” He shouted, and when no one listened he whistled so loudly I think my eardrums split in two. That got everyone to shut up and focus on the crazed old man standing at the front of the class. “Considering how disastrous group projects generally are, I’ve premade your groups. This should also give you a chance to meet some of your wonderful classmates!” He gestured to the TV perched in the corner of the class which was now displaying our groups.

  Unlike the other students, who were grumbling about Mr. Fillingim’s decision, I was glad that I didn’t have to pick my own group.

  I didn’t talk at school. Not even to my friends. (Or should I say, acquaintances?) I used to when I was younger but once middle school hit something just changed. Mostly, I tried to avoid the conversations around me and just sat around rubbing the scar on my hand like an idiot.

  In fact, that’s what I was doing when I noticed everyone was moving to sit with their group mates. I was about to get up myself when Jake Gordon plopped down in the seat across from me at the table. Jake was a big guy, maybe 6’0 tall. He had shaggy brown hair, but he’d died the left half platinum blonde. I liked his outfit even though it wasn’t anything special. The green shirt he was wearing matched his eyes and made his hair color pop. He gave me one of those weird man nods and went to scrolling on his phone.

  “Hello.” An Asian boy joined our table and waved.

  I smiled at him and waved back, and Jake shook the hair out of his eyes and nodded again.

  His name was Tyler. I’d never talked to him before, but I thought about him more than was probably normal. We’d had an assembly a while ago for his sister and he’d been in the peripherals of my mind all the time since then.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He was shorter than Jake but not by enough that most people would’ve noticed, and he was much skinner. I guess, the cross-country hoodie he was wearing explained that. The hoodie hung off his frame in a calculated manner, like maybe he’d ordered it big on purpose. His eyes were exhausted looking, and I noted the bags under them as he sat down in the seat next to Jake.

  “Hey Jake,” a girl sidled over to our table. She waved at Tyler and gave me a passing glance. Her name was Emma or Eva or something and I’d seen her around. Meaning sometimes when I went to the bathroom, she’d be in there vaping with some other girls. She was brunette, with glasses perched on the edge of her nose, a jacket hanging off her shoulders, and a coffee clutched in her hands even though it was fifth period. She was short, but I couldn’t talk much about height, as I barely cracked five feet myself.

  Jake nodded at her and said: “Sup Ava,” and Tyler returned the wave.

  Mr. Fillingim flitted around the tables handing all the groups our rubrics and urging us to look them over with “the utmost attention to detail”. So, Tyler skim-read the requirements out loud in a monotone while Jake and Ava scrolled on their phones and I daydreamed about my room, and my bed, and my pillow, and my cat.

  Tyler jarred me from my thoughts by slapping the rubric onto the desk. “So,” he said,

  Jake put his phone down and passed a hand through his hair, “So what?”

  “So, what should we do our project on?” Tyler asked.

  “Maybe we could choose like… Pssh ion know,” Jake said, insightfully.

  “This town is so boring,” Jake said.

  I nodded in agreement. You would never find anything interesting in little old Benjamin, North Carolina.

  This place was perfect for babies and old people, but I don’t think a single teenager wanted to stay for university or beyond. There was just absolutely nothing interesting here.

  Well actually, there were a few conspiracy theorists around who were always claiming that someplace or another was haunted, but those types of ideas were widely disregarded. Secretly, I’ve always felt like there might’ve been some truth in the creepy stories about our town, but that may just be because I’m superstitious. Sometimes when I walked outside alone or sat in my room, I would get this weird feeling. Like I was being watched. Logically, I knew it was nothing but deep down it made me feel uneasy. So, I figure that maybe those conspiracy theorists had the right thinking.

  “Wait you guys,” Ava leaned in. “I do know one thing cool that happened here. I heard that like twenty years ago a student at this school killed two kids. And then he dismembered their bodies like a real live serial killer… And rumor has it he’s still on the loose!”

  I’m pretty sure everyone in town had heard that story. Fun fact: said murderer went to our high school way back when. That’s the only thing Benjamin High has been nationally recognized for but hey, any publicity is good publicity. I’m pretty sure most of the details on the murder had gotten exaggerated to hell, especially the whole “dismemberment” part but otherwise it was legitimate.

  Tyler frowned. “Sure, but how would we do a project on that?” he asked, peering at the rubric again. “That’s not really an ‘everyday thing with unrecognized beauty’.”

  “Yeah, and that story is so stupid,” Jake scoffed. “They didn’t get dismembered.”

  “Oh yes they did,” Ava said.

  “Where’s your proof?”

  Ava opened her mouth angrily to counter, but Tyler beat her to it. “Chill out you, guys. Let’s focus on finding something we can do a project on for real.”

  Ava’s initial idea was the spark that got our group engaged in the assignment. The others came up with idea after idea, but nothing felt good enough. I didn’t talk for the whole conversation, but I listened closely.

  All Jake’s ideas seemed to revolve around food: “That new burger shack! We could do a project on that. Maybe we could go there to get the full experience.” The rest of Ava’s ideas seemed to be way too specific and honestly weird: “There’s this old tree behind the school, with a hole in the trunk base, and sometimes me and my friends steal textbooks from teachers we hate (not Mr. F of course, love him) and hide them in there and it’s sort of like a shrine because all the textbooks are turning into a miniature mountain and-”

  Tyler cut her off gently. “I have an idea,” he said. “I live over by Cross Creek and there’s this abandoned driving range over there. I’ve been there a couple times, and I think it’s pretty. We could do our project on that.”

  “What’s a driving range?” Ava asked, apparently unfazed by her idea getting rejected.

  “It’s a place where golfers go to practice their swings,” Tyler said and pantomimed hitting a shot.

  “Golf? You’re joking,” Ava groaned. “Our project is going to scream old people.”

  “Hey, maybe Mr. Fillingim will like it then,” Jake said.

  Mr. Fillingim, who had been walking around the tables, occasionally offering advice to groups, was right behind Jake when he made his little comment. “I heard that young man!”

  “Sorry,” Jake said hurriedly.

  Mr. Fillingim didn’t look too mad but gave Jake a half-hearted glare. He adjusted his bow tie again and he was close enough this time that I could tell the black things I’d thought were polka-dots were actually little bats. A kid at a different table raised his hand and Mr. Fillingim left us to go attend to him.

  Tyler followed Mr. Fillingim with his eyes as he walked and when he decided he was a safe distance away he continued. “Let’s do our project on the range. Unless someone’s got a better idea.”

  “Wait,” Ava snapped her fingers. “Isn’t that place haunted?”

  I smirked inwardly. Ava was definitely one of those conspiracy theorists.

  “No way,” Tyler said, waving the accusation aside. “Not every place in town is haunted.”

  Ava rolled his eyes, but shrugged and said: “Fine, whatever,” which basically ended the conversation.

  “Great. Alright, we should meet up at my house over the weekend,” Tyler said. “That way we can finish way ahead of schedule.”

  I didn’t like the thought of doing a group project over the weekend, but I couldn’t very well say no when everyone else had already agreed. So, I signed my fate with a nod and agreed to go with them.