I know how most stories go. A smart orphan is bullied in school and lives with his aunt or some foster family. He’s an outcast, has no friends, and sits alone when he eats lunch if, by some fortune, no one has taken his lunch money. Some incident happens,  and he is spirited away from the normal world.

      He joins some people to take out a bad guy and ends up in a position of peril. His plan to kill the final bad guy fails and he is placed in a magical prison of some sort. He thinks all hope is lost until something reminds him of why he needs to beat the bad guy and he saves the day. When he returns home, he is no longer bullied, has lots of friends, and is super rich.

      This is not one of those stories. For one, I am a girl. And no. I’m not the female sidekick who falls in love with the main character and I’m not the comic relief. I’m the main character. Me. Not some male orphan kid who thinks the world hates him until the incurring incident of the story. Me. Rachel Marie Tropp IV.

      I am 13 years old and have been the best student at my school for three years running. I’m not an orphan, and I live with my Mom, Dad, and my annoying 12-year-old Brother. My parents always favored my brother over me because he’s a boy, but beyond that, I don’t have a tragic backstory. 

      I’m not bullied and I have friends. I don’t meet a mysterious stranger from some other land, and I most certainly do not fall in love. I already said this wasn’t that kind of story.

      This is the type of story where a lot of people die. Bad people. People, the world is better off without. You may not agree with my assessment of who is bad and who is good, but no one dies without a reason. If you prefer it when good people die for no reason except the whims of a homicidal maniac, I suggest you find another book. 

      In every story, either bad people die or good people die. I think we know who won’t be missed.

      My definition of a bad person is a person who harms other people, either physically or emotionally, for their own gain.

While some people are worse than others, we’re never going to achieve world peace if we don’t get rid of every cruel or vicious person on this planet no matter how small their offense is. And that’s all I want. World peace. You probably want it too, but unlike me, are unwilling to take matters into your own hands.

      Some people may call me bad, but I’ve never harmed another person for personal gain. I’m just trying to make the world a better place, and don’t have the patience to let the police work things out. You’re welcome.

Let’s begin. How long have you known Rachel?

“My whole life. We-we grew up together.”

Did you have any idea this would happen?

“No. She d-didn’t tell me anything *Hic* Sh-she was acting strangely for the past week but we thought she was just *Sniff* sick. She n-never tells her Mom she’s sick. Always comes t-to school a-anyways. Says she w-won’t be the best student anymore if she misses school. *Sob*”

Do you need a glass of water?

“Y-Yes please.”

John? Get her some water. 

“T-thanks.”

Now, can you go over what happened again?

                                                                    ***

How long have you known Rachel?

“Two years.”

Did you have any previous knowledge of what was going to happen?

“No.”

...Nothing at all?

“Nothing.”

Was she acting strangely at all?

“No.”

*Sigh*

                                                                  ***

How long have you known Rachel?

“Four years. And no, she didn’t tell me anything or show any suspicious behavior. Well, I mean, she was acting a little strange but we just thought she was sick! She never misses school for any reason. She’s very hardworking and won’t let a little thing like a cold get in her way!”

Strange how?

“She just seemed down and energyless. She sneezed often and drank a ridiculous amount of tea so I assume her throat was scratchy.”

Did she have any previous connections with the victims?

“Not at all.”

                                                                ***                                                                       

      Three witnesses. That was all. One was crying, one wouldn’t talk, and the other seemed disgustingly happy about the whole ordeal. Rachel Marie Tropp IV had made the news. Shot three people and then disappeared. 

      Four sets of sobbing parents had answered the phone call from Baldon Private School to the most shocking and tearful message of their lives. Three sets of sobbing parents were now picking out caskets instead of birthday presents. Two sets of sobbing parents were at this moment trying to decide what to tell their other children. One sobbing parent who hated herself.

      One of the mothers, when she heard the news, had started howling about how the last thing she’d said to her son Gilbert was how disappointed she was that he was getting a D+ in science. She’d apparently yelled a bit and then furiously shoved her son out the door with a warning that there would be no more video games until he got his act together. 

       This boy was allegedly muttering under his breath about how awful his mother was the and how his A- in English should make up for the D+ and he was getting B+’s in all his other classes and he’d never failed a class and he was doing better than all his friends. These grumblings continued until lunch when he drowned his sorrows in a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, some Chex Mix, apple juice, and a piece of chocolate cake.

      Gilbert McMullin, Maria Hopson, and Jennifer Robinson were dead. Rachel Tropp was missing And three witnesses were all that there was. Many had come running after they heard the gun go off, but hadn’t seen what had actually happened. 

      Three witnesses. Three dead. One murderer on the loose.  Just another day in Elmore Springs.

                                                                            ***

“Amy, do you think you used enough eyedrops?”

Three girls were sitting on the couch in the living room of a four-story mansion at the edge of Elmore Springs. One of them was dabbing at her eyes with a washcloth.

“I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.”

Amy Croft is the crying witness. 

“Shouldn’t we be a bit quieter?”

“My parents left to go to dinner half an hour ago and won’t be back for another three.”

The girl who lives in the mansion is Rebbecca Young. She’s the talkative witness.

“Oh, right.”

Grace Chapman is the last girl. Tall and thin with long limbs and scraped elbows she’d earned climbing tree’s, she wasn’t one for mindless chatter.

Amy flung the washcloth aside and stood up, eyes watering. “I’m hungry,” she announced. “What’s there to eat in this place?” 

      Shorter than the other two girls, Amy made up for what she lacked in height with her overflowing personality. She acted with confidence and never seemed to regret a decision. 

“Let’s see what’s in the refrigerator.”

Rebecca loved stuff. She loathed wearing dresses and skirts but seemed to fill her closet with them as she couldn’t resist buying, well, anything.

      The three girls hurried to the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. Inside was some leftover teriyaki salmon, various vegetables, various fruits, milk, and orange juice. That was about it.

“I forgot my Mom was going shopping tomorrow.”

“Dibs on the salmon,”

“Well, you have a ton of cereal right? For your sister? We could just eat that.” 

“Or we could bake something,” said Rebecca as she pulled some butter from the back of the fridge. “We’ve got chocolate and everything else we should need for brownies in the pantry.”

“Check the freezer,” said Grace as she placed the salmon in the microwave.

Amy opened the freezer and pulled out a frozen pizza.

“I forgot I stashed that in there for emergency’s!” said Rebecca, “We could heat up that and I could bake brownies! Amy, would you mind making a salad with some of those vegetables?”

“Not at all. Grace, you sure your good with just the salmon?”

“Yup. Though I might steal some of those brownies.”

“M’kay.”

      The brownies were done baking around the same time that the three girls were done eating. Grace had eaten a ridiculous amount of salmon (three filets) before declaring she was done. She then proceeded to eat six of the twelve brownies. Amy and Rebecca ate less but still received the nourishment they required. 

      When they were done eating, the girls headed up to Rebecca's room. All blues and greens, her room looked like the bottom of the ocean. Her four poster bed had a clamshell headboard and enameled green seaweed crept up the posts in twisting vines. 

      Under the bed, was a simple cardboard box. They opened the box to a bunch of old school report cards. They dug to the bottom of this pile to find a small wooden box. Rebecca opened it with a key hung around her neck. This box was filled with safety pins. They dumped these out and opened a false bottom. Inside of this was a notebook. They opened the notebook to the fifth page and crossed out three names. 

      Gilbert McMullin, who had made a habit of punching kindergarteners and stealing money from teacher’s wallets when they weren’t looking. Maria Hopson, whose cyberbullying had led to a suicide attempt last fall. And Jennifer Robinson, who’d been caught smoking in the bathroom by Diana Turner and had broken the poor girl’s nose when she’d threatened to tell a teacher.

      There were three names on every page. All twelve names before these three were crossed out. 

      People trip down the stairs. People crash their cars into trees. People choke on food. People forget to turn off the stove. No one suspects that four thirteen-year-old girls are slowly killing off the drug dealers, shoplifters, rapists, and abusers. 

      But too many accidents lead to suspicion. Too many accidents mean one girl will have to be exposed. Rachel drew the short straw. Rachel killed the next three out in the open. Three people, the world was better off without. Two days of planning. One step closer to achieving peace.

                                                                             ***

      As Amy and Rebecca were eating frozen pizza, Rachel was going hungry. Later, she’d be able to sneak into her parent’s house through the back door and steal some food. She’d sleep in the treehouse she’d built with Amy five years ago. It was in the middle of the woods at the edge of the town. 

      Next week, Rebecca’s parents were going on vacation with Celia, Rebecca’s younger sister. She’d stay at Rebecca’s house then and figure out what to do next. She would’ve gone to Rebecca’s house that afternoon but, Celia had been there. Up in her room with her headphones on, sure. But, still there.

      Elmore Springs was not a good town. Shops were robbed regularly, suicide was common, and very few people felt safe. People tried to ignore this. Donating money to schools, parks, libraries, anything to make the face of the town look beautiful and picturesque. But, at night, people locked their doors and grimly watched the news. 

      This is why the girls thought their work was so important. Elmore Springs was a big, fat, lie. There was no other way. They weren’t bad people. Everything they did was to help others. To create an ultimate society filled with the people that deserved to be there.