The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists by Daniel Hurst (big ebook reader txt) 📗

were positioned all around this room designed to allow the pupils to relax in between classes. ‘But there were lots of us there, I suppose.’

I say nothing and pretend to be busy scrolling through Instagram.

‘Then again, I didn’t see you there either,’ Zara says, and I feel a jolt of terror run right through me.

‘What?’ I ask, looking up from my phone.

‘I was just saying I didn’t see Rupert at the park, but I didn’t see you there either. Did you two sneak off together? Is that why you stood me up?’

I study Zara’s face and try to figure out how the hell she could know that I was with Rupert, when she bursts out laughing.

‘Only messing! As if you could get with him,’ she says, hitting me playfully on the arm as I feel the air returning to my lungs.

‘Cheeky bitch,’ I reply, trying my best to laugh at her joke even though my nerves are still jangling.

‘You were too busy being sick all over yourself to pull a guy like him,’ Zara goes on, and while it is annoying, I’m just relieved that she has no idea how close she actually was to the truth right then.

‘Who was sick?’

I look up and see Sarah, one of our friends who couldn’t make it to the party because her mum wouldn’t allow it.

‘Oh my god. Have you not heard? Chloe had to go home early because she was sick!’

Zara really does find my mum’s fictitious story hilarious. Maybe I should have insisted on it having a different punchline.

‘No way! Are you okay?’ Sarah asks as she takes a seat beside me.

‘I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.’

‘And a ruined dress!’ Zara adds.

‘Oh no. It sounds like I missed a big night,’ Sarah says, shaking her head. ‘My mum’s such a bitch for not letting me go.’

‘Aren’t all mums?’ Zara asks before she and Sarah laugh, which I have to join in on, even though I don’t mean it.

‘Speaking of mums, what’s yours doing here?’ Zara suddenly says, and I look up to where she is pointing to see the police officers entering the common room. As if that wasn’t scary enough, Zara is right. Mum is amongst them, third in line, wearing her black and white uniform and looking a lot different to how she looked when I left the house a few hours ago.

‘What the hell?’ I say, letting my friends know that this is just as surprising to me as it is to them.

‘What do you think is going on?’ Sarah asks, but before any of us have a chance to speculate, we see Mr Richards, the Head of Higher Green Sixth Form, walk in and raise his hands in the air.

‘I need everybody’s attention,’ he calls out to the busy room of teenagers who all stop what they are doing and turn to look in his direction. At this point, those who hadn’t noticed the police officers entering the room now see them. But the noise in the common room only increases as everybody starts speculating about why they are here.

‘Settle down. This is very important,’ Mr Richards cries, and while it takes a minute or so to get everybody quiet, a hush gradually falls across the crowded room.

‘Thank you,’ the Head says, no doubt relieved that he was able to get his students to quieten down without needing one of the police officers to do it for him.

I notice Mum looking around the room trying to spot me, and I wonder if she will, considering that I am sitting all the way over here in the back corner. But then she eventually sees me, and we lock eyes, although I quickly lower mine because looking at her is making me more nervous than I already am.

‘Now I don’t want anybody to worry, and I’m sure everything’s going to be alright, but it would seem that Rupert Hall did not return home on Saturday night and his parents are trying to find out where he is. Has anybody here seen him today?’

I avoid looking at Mum again and instead lower my eyes to the carpet.

‘I believe there was a party that evening which some of you attended. Rupert was there too. Is that right?’

Silence falls across the common room again before somebody has the courage to speak up.

‘Yeah, he was at the party.’

Everyone turns and looks at Lloyd, who immediately flushes red at all the attention.

‘Okay, did anybody see him leave?’ Mr Richards asks.

I hold my breath as I wait for an answer from somebody. But there is none.

‘Or does anybody know where he went afterwards?’ the Head tries again.

‘We all went to the park, but I didn’t see him there.’

That answer came from Kelly, a girl in my form.

‘Which park was that?’ asks the male officer standing just behind Mr Richards.

‘Bishop’s Park,’ Kelly replies, clearly a little nervous now that she is talking to a policeman.

‘Is there anywhere else he could have got to after the party?’ the officer asks. ‘Anybody remember seeing him either at that park or anywhere else?’

Several students look around at each other, and I catch another glimpse of Mum looking over at me, but nobody comes back with another response, and Mr Richards turns to the police officers as if to say that’s the best he can do.

‘Thank you for your help,’ the policeman says, and he and his colleagues are just about to start filtering out of the room when Lloyd speaks up again.

‘Do you think something bad has happened to him?’

The men and women in the uniforms stop walking and turn back to the room of teenagers. I notice that Mum looks very nervous now, and some of the students in here might put that down to her being a little self-conscious standing in front of such a large crowd. But I know the truth.

She is nervous because we are the reason this is happening.

‘I don’t think we have anything to worry about,’ the male officer who spoke