JUDE DAVIS.

Jude liked living with Stella. Sharing a space with someone made it a hell of a lot harder to be lonely. However, this was the one time she was happy to be home alone. Trying to explain why meeting up with Henry had her dancing around the room as she got ready was an awkward conversation they weren’t quite ready for.

Though she should be reminding herself this was probably nothing more than a friendly catch up for Henry, she didn’t want to come down from cloud nine. It was nicer to focus on the butterflies of a new crush, singing along to a record player in a room that had been quiet for so long while she tried on ten different outfits.

Everything was so heavy, they deserved a break of happiness.

It was probably a bad idea to base it on another person, but she wasn’t notorious for good decisions. Even with the various hair and outfit changes in the process of getting ready, she managed to get to Marie’s a little before they were supposed to meet. Not that surprising, considering it was all she could think about since they made plans. Jude slipped into a booth. Both to save the table and look a little less out of place than if she waited out front.

Every time the door opened caught Jude’s attention until it was finally Henry. She greeted him with a smile and wave. At least there was an attempt to maintain composure now. ❝             It’s nice to see you. ❞ I’m glad you’re okay, thought but not spoken to avoid bringing the Wolf up too soon.

“Your roomie would likely make better emergency room company than I. Did you know she’s an Astrophysics major? She could probably use The Force to remove the alcohol from your bloodstream and save you the medical fees.” Of course Jude knew what Stella’s degree would be in, but that didn’t make it any less of a novelty for Griffin, who had only recently found out. “But I could regale you with epic poems to keep you entertained while they vacuum out your guts, so… maybe don’t count either one of us out.” 

Jude was right in her next assessment… Griffin hardly felt prepared for this. Although he never quite felt prepared for anything. Sometimes, Griffin felt his life was spent perpetually winging it.

“Just about everyone,” he answered. He glanced around the crowd, but the other members of The Secret Village had dispersed throughout. “We’ve all got the same idea, it seems… show up as a sign of respect and then get the hell out of dodge.” Was that crass? Maybe so… but he hadn’t really known these women in life and fake mourning felt worse than leaving it all well enough alone.

The bartender handed their drinks over the counter and Griffin leaned forward to loop his arm around Jude’s before taking his first swig. “At least the music’s dope… The Dropouts are really giving it all they’ve got tonight. Let me know how many drinks it’ll take to see you headbang.”

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Jude shook her head at Griffin weighing up the options. ❝             So, you’re saying you guys are my dream team, huh? ❞  she teased. ❝ If the plan for tonight wasn’t flying under the radar, I’d be tempted to test you guys. You know, as long as you could promise me I’d get new poems from you. ❞  

She nodded along to his words while simultaneously trying to keep track of everyone she’d exchanged glances or even had conversations with tonight. ❝ We can’t interact too much at these things. ❞ At least Griffin had an easy excuse. Classmates and amateur reporters together in the light of day. Gravitating towards him wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.

Jude was never good at being subtle. Perfectly demonstrated by the tight lipped smile she gave in return to The Dropout’s mention.  ❝ Yeah. ❞ It wasn’t Griffin’s fault he struck a nerve she had never told him to avoid, but she was still untangling her arm from his. ❝ God, completely wasted. ❞ Followed by another swig of her drink. In a good mood, she’d headbang completely sober. The alcohol was needed to get her out of her own head. ❝ That’s what grief does, right? ❞ When you grieve the right way, your art gets a boost instead of a sedative.

Jamie was already making his way through the crowd by the time Jude was enthusiastically volunteering, bursting out of the front doors with more fanfare than he’d come with. The cool night air was relieving for only a second before that too became a reminder, his damp, cooling sweat sending chills down his spine. He swiped at the back of his neck like he was trying to itch at a pest, the skin there growing angry and red at his persistence.

He shot a distrustful look back into the bar as the door popped open a second a few seconds after him, the warm glow of celebration looking more like hellish flames than anything.

“Unless I’ve suddenly become blonde, I don’t think I’m at any risk of being stolen off the streets,” he said belatedly, when he realized he hadn’t said a word to his dutiful companion. Jude was hard to ignore on most days, but he was grateful for her presence that night. He needed one thing that wasn’t going to set off every alarm in his system and luckily, he’d yet to spend enough time with his sister to warrant a trip wire for small girls.

Jamie stuffed his hands into his pockets before deciding that felt too open and folded his arms tightly across his chest as he paced along a shadow at the corner of the building.

“I still stand by the notion that this is a horrible idea. All those people are going to have to walk home eventually,” he pointed out, sounding a little urgent. Paranoid. “If that doesn’t spell trouble, I don’t know what does.”

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Jamie’s silence was expected. A bad mood usually meant Jude was going to be talking at him rather than to him, and this bad mood was unmissable. ❝             Better to be safe than sorry, right? ❞ It was a lame justification but the best she could offer at the moment.

❝ Plus, I don’t really want to be alone. ❞ Despite the fact there were plenty of people willing to keep her company inside, she couldn’t explain the way the beat felt like it was breaking her bones. ❝ Figured this was the best win-win situation. ❞

The words were frantic, but he made a good point. Even if Jude wanted to shrug off the concerns, it was undeniably more than the ramblings of a mad man. ❝ Surely no one is going to leave alone. ❞ People had been getting more and more paranoid as time went on, and a second body showed up. In an ideal situation, people wouldn’t be walking home alone. Scratch that. An ideal situation would be no wolf and no bodies.

❝ Do you think they’re here tonight? The Wolf. ❞

The very sight of Jude helped calm some of Griffin’s frazzled nerves. It was a nice reminder that he wasn’t alone in all of this, surrounded by images that only made him feel guilty. Suffering through conversations that felt a lot like toeing some invisible line. With Jude at his side, he had an excuse to think about other things.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m half Russian Jew, so I’m basically built to guzzle liquor,” he said, motioning toward the bartender. When she came over, he ordered a vodka lemonade for Jude (strawberry-flavored vodka, of course) and a whiskey smash for himself. He turned back to his company as the bartender slipped away to make them. “This whole thing is… an interesting experience… isn’t it? Are we meant to be celebrating or… crying? I’m lost. I don’t know the expectation.”

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❝             That doesn’t sound like a promise, Baxley, ❞ she teased. ❝ You know, I would’ve requested you, but I’ll have to change that without a promise in return. Stella sounds like a pretty good choice. ❞ Jude made herself comfortable, leaning against the bar while she left the ordering job to Griffin. ❝ But I am going to hold you to that. Drinking alone tonight feels pathetic. ❞

The question about what they were supposed to do was answered with a sigh and soft words mumbled, ❝ They never prepare you for this stuff. ❞ Maybe because no one else had to think so hard about the proper reaction to tragedy. ❝ I’ve already seen plenty of both tonight, ❞ Jude admitted. ❝ Funerals, memorials... all of this is for the living. ❞ Though it felt like she had to specify for the living left behind by a loved one. Not the ones living through the guilt of potentially sparking a psycho’s imagination. ❝ I’m sticking with a solid neither. No drawing attention, but staying long enough to say we were here, you know? ❞ The night had barely even started, and Jude was already decided she’d prefer to retire to a dark corner with Griffin and not have to act the entire night. While it wasn’t a good long term plan, they had a little time now.

❝ Have you seen anyone else? ❞ She assumed everyone would at least make an appearance, but questions about the memorial seemed to get lost between all the hush on the Wolf topic.

Parties weren’t his usual affair. At least, not since he’d gotten through freshman year, barely unscathed by the fog of liquor. To him, parties and celebrations were merely another vehicle for alcoholism, something he’d avoided throughout the entirety of his academic career. A feat worthy of pasting onto his resume, had anyone else understood the profound significance. 

That night was no different, only the liquor was the least concerning part of the town’s memorial. Jamie had never been particularly good with crowds of people, his prickly exterior only extending as far as anyone could hear him and the music was aptly drowning his barbs out. Maggie’s riffs were going especially hard that evening and while he couldn’t blame her, for once he wished she’d just tone it down for a moment so that he could think.

It was the noise, the people, the smell of beer and bourbon. Sweat pooled under his sweater as his his eyes darted from one head to another, their rueful smiles all twisting into one, big wicked one. Jamie’s gaze locked onto one particular face of some guy whose hair was as loud as his grin, his upturned nose elongating until it’d become a snout.

He jumped when his shoulder connected with someone else’s.

“Someone’s gotta tell that dude it’s my job to be early for Halloween,” Jamie said quickly, in an attempt of cool recovery when he realized he’d bumped into someone he knew. When he looked back at the guy, his face had returned to its charming, freckled glory.

“I… gotta go outside. You don’t have to come.”

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There was always some kind of jealousy and longing when she watched the Dropouts on stage. As if she were torturing herself, Jude kept coming back to Home Grown. Like a pattern repeating where death followed the music, Meredith was the second Wolf victim. Though she wanted to ignore Maggie all night, she couldn’t. Not just because of the volume, but it definitely helped. How could she still perform after having everything ripped from her? It was stupid and selfish to be comparing grief and the way they coped, but she couldn’t let the night go peacefully without beating herself up. The music, her passion, was all gone and it was something she’d done. They got up. Why couldn’t she?

Deciding this train of thought was simply too much for the level of sobriety she still had, Jude made her way to the bar. Like some guardian angel telling her to not get trashed and draw attention at the memorial for Wolf victims (aka the consequences of not watching where she was going), she bumped into someone else. Jamie’s voice quickly cutting through the silence was reassurance she wasn’t going to struggle through another conversation with a stranger. ❝            No one could hold an 18th centenary candelabra to you, Jack Skellington. ❞

Her eyes scanned the room for the man Jamie had been talking about, only to be met with a sea of average. Had she been lost in her own head and missed something that happened before? Did she only catch half his sentence? Before she could voice any of these questions, Jamie was already excusing himself.

❝ Hey, no. It’s okay. I’ll come with you. ❞ Deep down, Jude knew that was probably not what he wanted and the only thing stopping him from straight-up telling her not to come was either politeness for a borderline friend or just how frazzled he seemed. ❝ You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Pretend I’m not there. I just don’t think being alone right now is a good idea. ❞

Realistically, if Jamie needed a protector, it wouldn’t be Jude. Even she could admit that while she was putting her hand up for the position. But they talked. ❝ Plus, I could use the fresh air. I don’t think we’ll be missed too much if we duck away for a few seconds. ❞

The night was weird… wasn’t it? Griffin didn’t know if he was supposed to be celebrating the lives of women he barely knew or whether that was super not kosher when he’d helped invent the legend that killed them. It was weird. This guilt was weird. And heavy. His only solace was the moment the bouncer had been fooled by his fake ID.

Or maybe the guy just didn’t care tonight. Either way, Griffin was headed to the bar. It was there that he saw a familiar face, like finally finding Waldo directly in the center of the page. “Buy you a drink?” he asked as he sidled in beside them. “Or two… or seven. Personally I’d drink motor oil if it got me through this night unscathed.” 

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A group of college students with about as much in common as a tin of assorted biscuits wouldn’t be on the top of anyone’s list in the early days of the investigation. Still, Jude couldn’t help but feel like eyes followed her wherever she went. Everyone could see through the cracks Jude tried to superglue back together countless times and saw guilt. In a silent room, creating whispers until one voice cut through it all.

Griffin Baxley.

❝             Please do. ❞ Jude would have been happy with any familiar face, but it would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little extra glad it was one of her closest friends. ❝ I mean, it’s only tradition, right? I keep you waiting and bring you a latte; you keep me waiting and buy me a vodka lemonade. I’ll leave the motor oil for you, champ. Just promise I’m gonna be the one you personally request to keep you company while you’re in Emergency. ❞

Griffin cut his eyes at Jude as she began to compare them to the Powerpuff Girls in mock offense. It was a metaphor that didn’t stick to the wall entirely, but the image of his uncle fighting cryptids in a cartoonish green dress made up for any narrative holes. “Me? Bubbly? I don’t know if I’ve qualified as ‘the nice one’ at any point in my life, but I suppose I could ask Cami for some acting tips. Do you think I could pull off the pigtails?”

He glanced at the door to make sure no one else had arrived yet and overheard that last sentence of his. “I’m pre-emptively shooting down this Halloween costume idea, by the way. Before you get any ideas.” 

He adjusted his glasses as she continued, idly toying with the temple behind his ear as he thought about what Jude had to say next. He wasn’t as convinced that nobody from their Secret Village had anything to do with the murders. He didn’t know these people… not really. And they didn’t really know him either. 

But he didn’t say that, of course.

“Ever the voice of reason, Jude,” he said with a smile. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe whenever we organize the next game night, we can talk about it as a group. Hearing what the others think might help all that anxiety… and if you ask Jamie, our favorite pet Prof is suspicious, so we can keep an eye on him and see if he’s got a tell.”

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❝            It’s not my fault she’s the only one left. Felt nicer to make you lie than to replace you. Besides, I feel like blue could be your color.” Though Jude was trying to maintain the faux serious tone of their conversation, his follow up question about the pigtails was enough to break her composure. It was nice to have moments of laughter amidst the chaos, even if they were always fleeting.

Jude placed her coffee on the desk in favor of the much more pressing task. Holding her fingers and thumbs up in a mock frame, pretending to really study Griffin before she nodded. ❝ I think you’re the only one in the trio that could, ❞ she said as if it were a matter of fact. ❝ Just don’t tell Buttercup Boris I said that. ❞

Dismissing the Halloween costume finally made Judith sit up straight, feet swung off the desk just for the emphasis. ❝ C’mon, it was a good idea! ❞ Before Jude could lose herself in the endless ideas of costumes she would try her luck in talking Griffin into, her mood dropped with the sudden realization. ❝ They’re gonna try to cancel Halloween this year, aren’t they? ❞ At least, as much as they could. ❝ Imagine someone wearing a wolf costume. ❞ It was sick, twisted, and exactly what you would expect of some people.

❝ He suspects Schaefer? Wouldn’t he be in the same boat as us? ❞ The boat of absolutely fucked if they start trying to trace the rumor back to its origin. ❝ Why would he want to bring attention to something he was doing wrong? ❞ It was the reasoning she’d given to their peers. In theory, it should translate. ❝ But if we’re assuming the worst and he changes his story to throw us under the bus, who do you think they’d believe? ❞ So much for being the voice of reason. ❝ Maybe we should talk without him first. Even if it’s just for Jamie’s sake. He can’t share that theory in front of our moderator, and he deserves to be heard out. ❞

Heny just laughed at her musings, still at a complete loss of what she was talking about. It reminded him a little of the way he felt when he’d taken a philosophy class in his freshman year, when he’d still been shopping around for a major. Confused, but pleasantly so. Maybe that was the influence of the alcohol though. Those classes would probably have been a lot more fun if he’d shown up buzzed.

     “Oh I don’t doubt you could,” he said, mostly because he now had a full glass in front of him and a prime seat and didn’t plan on forfeiting either of them, “They did abandon me in the first place. They won’t miss me.”

At least until the next time they had a team social and begged to use his card for the tab. The only reason he continued to let them do that was because he wanted to stay firmly on everyone’s good side, at least until Alastair Branson graduated and he could be made captain. Plus it wasn’t as though he couldn’t afford it. 

He raised his glass to meet hers.

     “And to friends too, right?” he said with a wink, unable to help himself, harmless flirting seemed to be his default mode of conversation when he was drunk. Ask anyone he’d ever slept with.

“So what are you really doing here on your own? And a real answer this time, no waffling mumbo-jumbo.”

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❝           Their loss. ❞ Even though she didn’t doubt they’d argue the fact because Henry’s party ended earlier than the rest. ❝ I’ll take over the job to get you home safe whenever you’re ready from whoever had it before. ❞ If she had to guess, no one. ❝ You’ve got your keys, right? I’d offer to let you crash at mine, but Stell has been home studying all night. ❞ The offer would still stand if he needed it, but from what she’d seen, she assumed it wouldn’t have been the first choice.

The extended amount of attention from Henry outside of the Village was surprising enough. The wink added onto the end of their cheers was enough to make Jude’s heart skip a beat. The glass quickly brought to her lips in an attempt to hide the idiotic smile that crept onto her face at something that was probably nothing more than a joke from the playful drunk sitting next to her. ❝ You know, I think I could used to spending time together like this. ❞ Outside of the game and the drama that had come with it. ❝ Is that weird to say? Probably doesn’t matter if you don’t remember this in the morning. ❞ Somehow, the jury was still out on whether Jude would be relieved or disappointed.

❝ Waffling mumbo-jumbo happens to be an essential part of the Jude Davis experience. ❞ The way she’d let you get to know her without truly knowing much about her. Many would scratch the surface and be happy with the half-truths she provided.

Jude took another sip of her drink, giving a soft shrug as she started her second attempt of stepping around his question. ❝ Do you ever spend time by yourself? Not studying or just waiting for someone, but genuinely taking a moment alone. ❞

Everyone’s behavior was going to be picked apart with a fine-tooth comb, and Jude decided that spending the night looking over her shoulder would be less suspicious than not going at all. The six degrees of separation that justified her attendance were memorized to the point it felt like reading someone else’s lines rather than facts from her own life.

Maybe avoiding each other all night would have been the smartest move, but Jude was still firm on her strength in numbers theory. Plus, she really didn’t want to be alone tonight. ❝             How are you holding up? ❞ It was a stupid question, but one that had basically become a knee jerk reaction tonight. Every conversation seemed to start that way. The ones involving Jude and the ones she would simply observe. ❝ Good turn out, right? ❞ Was that even something you say about a memorial? So many years spent trying to block out the last memorial she attended, yet now all she could wish for were memories to provide a guideline on how to act.

Coming back from her shift at work to an quiet place wasn’t out of the ordinary. If she had to guess, Stella would be in her room with a book ( studying or not, Jude could barely ever tell the difference ) and probably enjoying the silence. Of course, Jude had to ruin it with her yell towards the other girl’s room. ❝             Stell? You home? ❞ Judgement usually followed anytime Jude referred to the small campus dorms as home, but never with Stella. At least, not outwardly.  

Doors. They’re a practical, wonderful, and very necessary thing in life. Unfortunately, if you live with anyone like Jude, they’re useless unless you lock them. ❝ I’m coming in. ❞ A final warning as she twisted the knob. If she was with someone or getting changed, she’d yell out. That’s how Jude rationalized it.

❝ So, progress has been made with Professor Schaefer. I finally got him to stop calling me Judith. ❞ Complete with a bad impression of his voice. ❝ I think he finds it weird, but like, we don’t even share a name. His first name is Professor. Everyone knows it’s changed legally when you start teaching. Problem is that I’m now a snippet of ‘Hey Jude’ by The Beatles. You know I don’t listen to them for moral reasons. ❞ Not any of the good reasons like their ‘bigger than Jesus’ controversy, but because they’re insanely overrated for no reason. ❝ So, really, it feels like a personal attack. ❞ That wasn’t even touching on the musical scholarship she was currently doing nothing with.

❝ Anyways, I just got paid so I’m taking us to Marie’s tonight. ❞ All of that to reach the very simple end goal that could have been yelled through the door was - unfortunately for Stella - very common.

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

“If befriending Boris has been your ulterior motive this entire time, you might want to alter your strategy. He’s more the Boogeyman hunter. A real Boogeyman fan, my uncle,” Griffin said, hiding his own smile as he turned back to the chalkboard, smudged over with the ghosts of Calculus past. He considered the latte for a second, the warmth that spread from his palm to the rest of him. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this until he was holding her cup in his hand.

“I’d go full out and just write REDRUM at the top of this board, but something about current local events tells me that would only get us arrested and put in an interrogation room for the next 72 hours,” he said. Once again, Griffin had found himself bringing up the topic of The Wolf, despite wishing he could ignore the whole thing away. Perhaps part of him wanted to see what Jude thought of it all. She had always been good at helping him find perspective.

When he turned back toward her, he tsked at her feet the desk but said nothing about it. “What do you make of all that, by the way?” he asked. He finally took a sip from the coffee. It was overly creamy and sweet, balancing out Griffin’s own natural bitterness. It calmed some of his anxiety. “I mean… I’d like to avoid making it a topic at this meeting, so while it’s just the two of us…”

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❝             Ying and Yang. He’s the hunter, and I’m the ‘anything but prey’. It’ll work, I promise. ❞ Though his back was turned to her, Jude’s smile was still aimed in his direction, watching carefully for his plan of action when it came to the chalkboard. ❝ You could always join us. Hunter obviously wins him the title of Buttercup. I’m the coolest, so obviously, I’d be Blossom. Think you could tweak the personality a bit, Bubbles? Which means you’d befriend the Boogeyman. She’s the nice one. ❞ Graduation would be right in front of them before they knew it, and Jude was no closer to having a sense of direction in her life. Settling down here permanently the way Griffin’s uncle did was a thought she was entertaining. Although befriending him was a joke at the moment, making some friends in town beyond the ones that were bound to leave was becoming a good idea.

❝ Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mr Baxley. 72 hours in an interrogation room with you doesn’t sound too bad. ❞ Glossing over the fact they would most definitely be questioned separately. ❝ Plus, we wouldn’t have to deal with the freshmen. What if we write red wine and let them infer? Maroon rum? They’re technically harmless. ❞ But it wasn’t a good idea to do anything that encouraged eyes to be even slightly more on them. Digging in any direction of Jude’s life brings up suspicion.

But with Griffin’s follow up question, she couldn’t continue to dance around the unpleasant topics.  ❝ I mean, it’s scary. ❞ Though you wouldn’t guess it from the way Judith acted like she was invincible. ❝ If you’re asking for theories, I have none. I don’t think I’m really good at picking up the clues. ❞ Was her father’s case blinded by love, or did she always have a skewed view of reality? ❝ But we’ve got each other, right?”

There wasn’t a single bone in her body that could suspect Griffin of being behind this. Even if past events should tell her to be wary of those closest. ❝ I mean, I don’t think it’s any of us. Kind of stupid to take, y’know, all that and play it out in real life. It’s not going to be hard to find the details, then it’s an open and shut case. ❞ Was it crazy to suggest the group of the most suspicious-looking people they knew were the only ones they could trust? Yeah. Was Jude a little crazy anyway? Also yeah.

❝ There’s strength in numbers, and we’re lucky enough to have numbers we can trust. No one has to be alone. ❞

Henry matched Jude’s smile when she realised who it was who had clumsily thrown an arm around her shoulder. He liked Jude. She was nice. Possibly too nice. In a way that made Henry wonder how someone could be so sweet without giving themselves a toothache. Then again, he didn’t know her awfully well, and rarely saw her outside of the meetings of the Village. Somehow he didn’t think they ran in the same circles. However, unlike the other members of the Village he lacked common ground with, she didn’t seem to hold that against him. So maybe she had a hidden dark side he knew nothing about. 

     “Well I hope you know that makes no sense at all. You have to be somewhere,” he said with a frown as he tried to digest what she’d just said, “And right now, you’re here.”

He motioned with his hand to get the bartender’s attention and held up two fingers, knowing - or at least hoping - that they would remember his usual order. As Jude mentioned, he and his friends did come here relatively often. He also thought that she looked a little out of place without a drink in front of her. 

     “Yeah. They’re like that,” he said, glancing around like they might have reappeared from wherever they’d drifted off to. But the room was still empty of his boisterous teammates, “Although I’ve lost them. So they’re not as unmissable as you say.”

He grinned his usual hundred-watt smile as two full glasses of beer were placed in front of them. He slid one a little closer to Jude as he handed over his card to the bartender.

     “Here you go,” he said, holding up his own glass to cheers with her before taking a large sip. There was a voice in his head that reminded him of what he’d have to do to work this off tomorrow. But that was tomorrow’s problem.

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❝            There’s a little bit of somewhere in that everywhere. It makes sense, but only if you think about it in the cool and mysterious way instead of literally. The physical body is here, but my mind? My heart? ❞ Ironically, both showing up to the party since the arm had been tossed around her.

❝ Bet ya I could find them faster than you could. ❞ Completely glossing over the obvious advantage she had because the only thing clouding her senses were her own emotions rather than a few too many drinks. Not that’d she particularly be trying her hardest anyways. ❝ Or we could just forget about them for the night. ❞ Perhaps he could use the change in company. Jude knew she could use the company in general. His words, even slurred, were filling the silence in a way that was much more pleasant than her own thoughts would have been.

❝ Oh, you don’t have to. ❞ And probably shouldn’t based off of how drunk he already is. Still, Judith was never one to turn away a free drink. Especially not one coming from the boy she was antsy to spend more time with outside their secret game. ❝ Cheers... to being here. ❞

The Henrietta Report was an underground magazine, not officially sanctioned by the university. So there was no legitimate headquarters, no space they called their own. They met wherever Griffin was able to gather them - which often meant renting out study rooms or hiding away in common areas of The Quad. The only reason they were able to print all their copies in a timely and inexpensive manner was a friendly relationship with Donovan Harris… Fortunately for them, the journalism professor didn’t seem to possess a bad side for them to get on.

Considering Griffin Baxley and his lack of social grace, that was probably a good thing.

That afternoon was their first official meeting of the year. Someone (someone that wasn’t Griffin, that is) had handed out flyers during the activities fair, which meant he needed to be adequately prepared for bug-eyed freshman to wander in, hoping to be part of the cool campus publication as opposed to the legitimate school newspaper. 

The meeting room that day was an unused conference room in the Mathematics department. Unfortunate in that the equations written on the chalkboard did nothing for the aesthetic, but the nature of The Henrietta Report was that they took what they could get. Griffin was in the process of erasing someone’s algorithms when the door opened.

“Judith… slayer of Holofernes… if you’ve come for my head, I ask that you do it quickly, painlessly, and before I have to deal with the freshman,” he greeted. God, that sounded lame, but Griffin had spent an entire Summer with only his uncle for company. Besides, he’d always been better on paper. Jude knew that by now.

I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to see your face. Several of such thoughts ran through Griffin’s brain, but he refused to let them leave his mouth. Instead, he settled on something far more neutral. “The Boogeyman hasn’t captured you yet, I see. That’s good. You seem quick on your feet.”

@stclenlullabies​

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪  ⊹ ˚ ˖ ⋆ ｡ ⋆ ˖ ˚ ⊹  𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

Showing up to their meetings on time was never a strong suit, but at the very least, Judith would show up late with two coffees instead of just the one for her. A thank you for waiting or just something to make it worthwhile, depending on how you looked at it. Griffin was someone that seemed to have endless patience for her poor punctuality and inability to commit to a story. Both things should be detrimental to someone involved with the paper. It sure was a good thing they never took themselves too seriously.

❝             Drink up, it’s poisoned, ❞ she told him with a wink as she extended the cup without lip gloss smudges on the rim towards Griffin. ❝ Beheading is just so... messy. I’ve decided to modernize my execution methods since then. Feel free to provide feedback, but you better do it quick because I don’t listen to ghosts. ❞ Too many were trying to sing lost melodies into her ears. She had no choice but to cut them all out. ❝ Anti Ghost Whisperer and pro Boogeyman evader. I think I’ve got a pretty good resume building up. Soon I’ll level up and be friends with your Uncle instead, ❞ she teased, smirk hidden behind Brew Haha’s to-go cup.

❝ First tip to get rid of the freshmen, leave the math equations on the board. No one will want to stay if they see that on the board. No tailored experience, no showing them just how cool we are. That’s all the stuff that would make them want to stay. Actually, should we write harder math equations? Some haunting stay away messages?  Put out anything to do with Jamie and, like, Mothman. That will get rid of at least half the kids. Any of them that are coming here to kill time because it will look like we actually get work done here and then anyone that’s completely sane. We’d just have to get rid of the weirdos than linger. ❞ You know, like them.

Jude helped herself to the shitty office chair she could only assume was Griffin’s before he got up to erase the board. Feet already up on the desk as she made herself at home. ❝ We should promise to not hold anything against each other because I will be talking bad about you to any freshmen I can get alone. We’ve got a good thing going here, Griff. We can’t ruin that. ❞

status; open to all

where; home grown

when; saturday night

Henry had lost his friends. He had come to the off-campus bar Home Grown, fake ID in his back pocket and his black AMEX in his wallet, with a group of his friends from the rowing team. He was only three beers deep but after a trip to the restroom he’d come back out into the dim room of the main bar to find them missing. In all likelihood they had gone out the back to smoke. The thought made Henry scrunch his nose in distaste. Okay, yes, Bud Light wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of health foods but it seemed better than poisoning his lungs. 

He stumbled a little clumsily back to his table. Since when had three beers been enough to get him buzzed? His mind reeled off some health class factoid about alcohol tolerance to body fat ratio. But it drifted away before he could remember exactly what the fact was.

He was halfway to his table when he stopped in his tracks, distracted by a familiar face sat alone on a bar stool. Usually when he was out with his rowing friends he wouldn’t acknowledge any of the Village, lest they draw unwanted attention to themselves. But his inhibitions had left with his friends.

     “Hey!” he said, louder than he meant to, throwing his arm around their shoulder, “My body is a temple, and that temple is full of alcohol.”

Henry ungracefully plopped himself down on the bar stool next to them.

     “I’ve never seen you here before.”

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪  ⊹ ˚ ˖ ⋆ ｡ ⋆ ˖ ˚ ⊹  𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

The first time Jude was drawn to Home Grown was freshman year, for one of The Dropout’s shows. Somewhere between then and now, it had become an unshakeable habit. Maybe it was the fact they accepted her fake ID, or maybe because inching closer to the sound of music once again made Jude’s heart race in a way she was 99% sure is good. However, it wasn’t something she turned into a big deal of socializing.

Meeting someone there felt like it would be moving too fast. The obligatory ‘what brings you here?’ and dreaded answer of the music. One slip up of ‘I used to play’, and she’d build up another list of people she’s let down because piano keys felt more like thorns under her fingers.

Definitely not announcing it to her friends because the questions that followed would be enough to start one of Jude’s infamous spirals after she’s decided the songs are a lost cause and that she’s a failure. Even if they meant well.

An arm chaotically thrown over her shoulder was met with a role over her eyes. Speech about harassment prepared and ready to snap until she recognized the man attached to the arm around her. Henry. Obviously trashed, at that. With the confidence he wouldn’t even remember her there tomorrow, her expression softened.

❝            Oh, H. I’m everywhere and nowhere all at once, ❞ she responded with a playful smirk. ❝ I’ve seen you here before, though. Your friends are always so loud. They’re hard to miss. ❞ For good measure, she tacks her disclaimer onto the end regardless of how drunk he is. ❝ Not that I’m here often. ❞

status: open to any location: student rec center

  Before coming back to Henrietta, Kieran had already heard all about the recent murders from his parents, their tongues wagging in concern and horror, all too eager to spill the details about the whole thing over dinner, and continue the conversation. Of course, they wanted him to return still, and Kieran did as well; despite the feeling of dread that had been steadily growing in his stomach since he first looked up the details himself. The Wolf was a concept all too familiar, and once finally at Henrietta, Kieran realized he couldn’t escape the whispers and gossip any better than he could at the Fiorentino home. 

   This business with the missing librarian was just another anchor in the pit of Kieran’s stomach, so he tried to find some form of distraction by taking a swim, letting the water wash over him as he swam above the bottom of the pool. When Kieran resurfaced by the opposite wall, he felt a little better, in a way. The mood only improved more when he caught sight of a familiar face looming above him dripping wet head, and he offered up a smile in greeting. 

   He’d wondered how the others in the Secret Village group were handling the tragedies around town, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up first. “Great minds think alike?” Kieran asked, shaking the water from his hair to prevent it from dripping down directly into his eyes as he looked upwards to the figure. “Or, shit, you’re not here to tell me I missed some important orientation event or something, please. It’s too early for all that, and frankly, I couldn’t care less right now. Water’s great.” 

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪  ⊹ ˚ ˖ ⋆ ｡ ⋆ ˖ ˚ ⊹ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

Watching the students flock back into Henrietta after a holiday break was quickly became a familiar sight for Jude. Her day was spent cycling through all of the usual ‘go to’ spots until she saw one of her friends. The first bout of success came when she found Kieran splashing in the lap pool.

❝            Finally! You guys are coming back. ❞ Jude exclaimed, completely ignoring his orientation theory in favour of kicking her shoes off to the side of the pool. ❝ Thank god. You can not imagine how boring it’s been without the option to run around with our ragtag group of misfits. ❞ The impression they had been making never went unnoticed, but the dial seemed to get cranked up to one thousand every time they went home for the holidays. Jude sat on the edge, her legs dangling in the water next to Kieran as she carried on.

❝ I had to start offering to pay for someone at Game Demonz to jump on the machine with me, and even THAT wasn’t working towards the end of it. You guys up and left me alone with crazy people that don’t appreciate a free game of Mortal Kombat. ❞ And, of course, the murders. Way too early to be bringing that up. ❝ Dude was telling me about how I could ‘just play with the computer’ as if that’s even close to being the same. Doesn’t he know that there’s a bonding element to virtually beating the shit out of each other? I have, like, twenty people competing for your role of Mortal Kombat Comrade because you weren’t here to defend your territory. ❞