One year later...

"School's out," Alicia repeated to herself, blocking out the noise of chatter around her as she walked down the crowded school hall, her schoolbooks tucked under one arm.

Her appearance had drastically changed from a year ago. She had gone for the Goth look which, of course, meant black hair, black makeup, black clothes, and black everything. This makeover had done at least one thing in her favour: the other students mostly left her alone now, all except Bowers and his friends. She had kept up her drawing, but she had devoted herself to drawing only one thing, something that had filled nearly every corner of her head until she was afraid it would drive her insane. She would draw it over and over again, each time in a different way. Those pictures now adorned her bedroom walls. At first, Alicia had been afraid that her mother would find this strange obsession alarming, but she hadn't seemed to notice the drawings coating her walls and ceiling. Alicia stared at them every night before she went to sleep, although she still didn't get very much sleep. The teachers had often scolded her for nodding off in class, resulting in many detentions. She had been thankful for those detentions, though, since they had saved her from a number of encounters with Bowers and his gang.

"School's out. School's out," she muttered incessantly.

The outdoors beckoned to her. Once she reached them, she'd be free.

"Talking to yourself, creep?" Henry's voice broke her train of thought.

Alicia hesitated mid-step, but she knew she couldn't stop or it would only be worse for her.

"What's your hurry?" Patrick sneered, blocking her path.

Alicia didn't look at him. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Leave. Me. Alone," she hissed.

"What was that, creep?"

Alicia could feel her anger building. She silently took up the chant again, "School's out. School's out. School's out."

"Speak up!" Patrick said, giving her a shove.

Alicia finally looked up, her eyes meeting Patrick's. As always, he had the same stupid smirk glued on his face. She clenched her jaw, struggling to maintain her composure.

"School's out." She clung tenaciously to the thought. "School's out."

Her feet felt like lead as she forced herself around the grinning obstacle before her.

Patrick chuckled, "Don't worry, we'll be seeing each other again very soon."

"I. Will. Not. Hit. Him."

It would be so easy to just turn around and slap him, but it would land Alicia in trouble, which was something she didn't need at a time when freedom was only a few feet away. Her feet got lighter as she got closer to the doors. Next thing she knew, she was walking through them, and as the sunlight hit her face, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She made a beeline for a trashcans and hurriedly dumped her books in them. She took a deep breath, managing a gentle smile. Then she noticed the police car, and her smile vanished. Betty Ripsom's mother was standing next to two police officers, her eyes searching the crowd of oncoming students, as though expecting to find her missing daughter there among them. Alicia felt a sudden chill creep up her spine. She knew very well that Betty Ripsom would never be seen again. Her thoughts flashed back to a child in a yellow raincoat staring up at her with sheer terror in his face. She gave herself a shake.

Georgie Denbrough. That had been the boy's name. He was the younger brother of Billy Denbrough, one of the students who attended her school. Georgie, just like Betty, had been declared "missing" as well. But they weren't missing at all.

They were dead.