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Suddenly, adults crowded around us, investigating the mess.
“Did you do this?” one teacher demanded of Emma. “Do you think this will get you out of homework?”
“Of course she didn’t,” Chloe snapped, but her face had paled.
Another teacher took a closer look at Emma’s arm. Emma was wailing about scarring. She still bore the scar on her forehead from her accident in the canal.
Chloe pulled me aside. “Did you see it?”
“The burned books were from English and History,” I said.
“The candles belong to Emma. I bought them years ago when she first moved here. It’s sort of how we became friends. She’s kept them on her bedside locker all these years, and she’s insisting she didn’t bring them to school. Explain to me what’s happening because I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
One of the teachers called Chloe. “I’m going to take Emma straight to the hospital, so you come, too, Chloe. Her mother’s at work so she can meet us there.”
She bustled the pair away, leaving me standing behind a caretaker and the teacher who had suspected Emma.
The teacher shook her head in disbelief. “Funny how her homework for my class always ends up being lost or destroyed. How convenient was this?”
“She hardly injured herself on purpose,” I blurted.
The teacher looked at me scornfully. “I wouldn’t put anything past her. She’s lazy. Always has been.” She seemed to realise I was a student. “Shouldn’t you be getting to class?”
I spent the rest of the day in a daydream. I pretended to know nothing whenever anybody asked me questions. If Victor and Alison had been at school, they could have tried to catch a scent at the lockers. It would be too late the following day. The caretaker would clean the scene too well.
Not that it meant the person starting the fires had anything to do with the locker. It could have been a stupid prank because rumours about Emma being questioned by the police had been going around all day long.
A few things were bothering me, however. The books had been from classes where Emma had been having trouble with the teachers. The candles had come from her bedroom unless somebody had coincidentally bought the exact same type then planted them in her locker. Could I have been wrong about Emma all along?
After school, I headed straight for Dorian’s house, passing by the same old lady I’d noticed several times. If it wasn’t Victor lurking, it was that old woman. She was soon forgotten when I noticed Victor and Alison waiting for me outside Dorian’s front door. I caught them up on what had been happening, but neither of them had any new explanations or ideas. We were about to go inside when Chloe showed up to join us, panting.
“I knew you’d be here,” she said triumphantly.
“How’s Emma?” I asked.
“Bandaged up,” she said. “One of the pieces of glass almost cut her tendon, so they’re being careful. But listen, I went home with her, and when I was in her room, I saw her candles, untouched, where they’ve always been.”
“So they weren’t Emma’s candles, after all,” I murmured. They had been pretty distinctive though, the glass full of colourful crystals.
“That’s not the weird part. We were little kids when I bought them, but they were recalled soon after for being so dangerous. I mean, yeah, no shit. Her parents wanted her to throw them away, but she promised to never light them. I’ve never seen them in the shops again, so where the hell did they come from?”
“That’s a bit spooky.” I rubbed my arms, getting goosebumps. “So the person who put them there has had the same candles all this time? What does this even mean?”
“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Chloe said, looking over Victor and Alison. “Where were you two today then?”
“Hiking,” Victor uttered with confidence as Alison said, “Had an appointment.” They both glared at each other for a few seconds before I cleared my throat.
“Anyway,” I said. “Is it possible that this whole locker thing was a prank that went too far? Maybe the candles weren’t meant to burn for that long. If she had gone to her locker during first break, the glass never would have broken.”
“It was still dangerous,” Chloe said. “And weird.”
“How did they open her locker?” Alison asked.
I stared at her. I hadn’t even thought of that. “Did it look broken to you, Chloe?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not even dented. It was pretty much closed over like she forgot to lock it. I mean, she might have left it open herself. She’ll deny it, but would she even remember?”
“Somebody could have taken advantage and played a stupid joke,” I said. But then they would have used up their old, recalled candles that were exact copies of Emma’s. I wished Dorian was home to help me wade through the bizarre details and find something that made sense.
