The First Case for the 15-year-old detectives in which their best friend is murdered and it's up to them to solve the case.
-A hole in my heart-
"NO!" Abigail Murders gasped.
Claira Martini clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide with shock. Her best friend sat beside her, hands clenched on the arms on her chair, tears spitting from her light green eyes. Claira was fighting with the lump in her throat that was causing her so much pain. She felt numb, but a painful numb, a burning, hollowing numb that carved out her chest.
"She's ... gone." Aira gulped, wiping her eyes. They were swollen and painful. The headmistress nodded sadly, almost painfully. Roberta Clements had been a model student. Aira felt a sharp jab in her stomach at the thought of her ex-best friend.
"Yes, Miss Martini, Miss Murders. I'm so sorry." the headmistress said solemnly. Aira stood up, a little shaky on her delicate feet, pulling at Abs' arm, bare pale arm. Abs rose up slowly, nodding slowly to herself. She swallowed her pain and followed Aira out of the office.
Aira pushed her door open. It slammed against the wall with a terrifying crash. She pushed a hand through her carefully combed fine black hair that fell just below her shoulders. She walked to her mirror next to her bed and glared at herself. Aira yanked off her blue and silver tie, throwing it down on the blue and silver striped bed. Aira ran a hand over her stomach covered by a thin black vest top, her short grey skirt hanging limply at her thighs.
Aira sighed and fell onto the soft, warm covers. She kicked off her black pumps and pushed down her long grey socks. This was the uniform of Peckham Academy for Endearing Young Ladies – blue and silver tie, plain black vest top, grey skirt, grey socks and plain black shoes. Personally, Aira thought it was a bit too showy, too loose, but it was cute, nevertheless.
"Claira?" Abigail and Claira's only remaining roommate murmured. She was blonde and short and extremely kind. Just like Roberta. Aira scowled, looking up.
"Yes. Sara." she gasped.
"I'm so sorry. Roberta was so amazing." Sara breathed, so scared to offend. Aira closed her eyes.
"Don't say her name." she hissed.
"I'm sorry Aira."
"You have no idea how it hurts." Aira breathed, grieving, hurting. She took a deep breath and stood up. Glancing once again in the mirror, Aira pulled off her vest and skirt. She walked gracefully to her chest of drawers, pulling out pyjamas and smugling her body into them. Claira pulled back the covers on her bed and threw herself under them.
Claira pressed her face to the pillow, smothering the tears that could no longer be kept under control. She shook, as she sobbed silently. Abs, still in her uniform, slid in with Aira. Abs' skin was frosty, cold and pale, her long, shaggy dark brown hair tickling Aira. Abs wrapped her arms around Aira, holding her securely. Aira felt better, no matter the cold. That was the only problem with boarding school – no one to hold you, tuck you in at night, be a mother to you. But that was what was so good about Abigail. You didn't even need to ask.
"It's ok Aira." Abs breathed to Aira, so Sara couldn't hear.
"No it's not." Aira murmured, snuggling closer to Abigail. Abs stroked Aira's hair, trying to calm her. "Robi was murdered."
"What are you saying? What can we do? We're just two 15-year-olds stuck in a girls' boarding school." Abigail asked, a little agitated. She was holding in her greif well.
"We can find out who did it. We can uber cool detectives." Aira suggested hopefully.
"Just sleep Aira. You'll feel better in the morning." Abs gasped. She didn't like how Aira was talking. She was hurt, grieving; Abigail knew that. But trying to solve this mystery was not a good idea. They were too emotionally involved, and that was never a good thing. Abs sighed "It'll be better tomorrow. I promise."