Behind The Scenes The Outsiders Novels & Stories

Sixteen - Hannah Mae's POV – My classmates were gathered at the back stage of the gym after the performance. They were all chatting, laughing and teasing one another. But me, I'm here at our classroom. Standing alone in the center, lost in deep thoughts. Mom and grandma were at the gym, sitting at the bench and I told them that I will be at the back stage. But since I don't feel comfortable there, I'm all alone in the room. I'm kind of nervous despite after performing. I don't understand why. We did our best and the performance turned out great. But there is really something else. Something that can make my heart explode.

POV Willow After we got outside, I hid behind a tree and undressed. I shifted quickly and ran out. There were murmurs of surprise when the others saw me but Tracy and Zack just smiled at me and held out the kids toys. Nox and I smelled them deeply and after a moment, Nox had a vision.

' Ethan Wharton still insisted, Kristen Oliver sighed and nestled in his arms. 'It's boring not to film, it's boring.' Ethan Wharton's heart suddenly softened, and he hugged Kristen Oliver's slender waist and gently advised, 'Wait, wait until they find out who is behind the scenes. Otherwise, Grandpa and my brothers are not at ease with you going out, and I am not at ease. ' Seeing that Kristen Oliver's mouth was wronged again, Ethan Wharton quickly coaxed, 'People have been caught, and we will soon find out who is behind the scenes, be patient and so on, and we will have the result tomorrow.'

Even stranger, Maggie hadn’t even deleted the backup, as if she wanted us to see it on purpose. Suddenly, I remembered a glint of reflected light under the passenger seat after practice that day—something like a tiny lens. A chill crept up my spine. I realized then that this carefully designed trap had been laid long ago. But who was behind it? And why were they determined to push us into a corner like this?

While most of them have fled, there are still a few inside, trying desperately to help others who have been buried. My hand still sizzling, I shake it off and pull it back. About to reach in and pull out some more wires, I stop when I hear Dr. Cho screams. It wasn't her gloating but her being taken by surprise. Looking out, I see the four OutCasts charging toward me. "They sure took their time," I think as I reach in.

“Well, Billy Johnson of 802 Fairmount Street, the big white house with blue shutters and an oak tree out front . . . All you really need to know about me is that I have sharp teeth. Sharp teeth and a taste for blood. Look out for me under your bed. And if I’m not there . . . check under your mother’s!” He leered and cackled, and I felt the skin on the back of my neck crawl then melt in a wave of cold sweat. I watched the rest of the tapes like that, fast forwarding through the movies to see the parts he had filmed. In thirteen episodes, I spotted six girls that were in the files and two that weren’t. The last tape didn’t have a movie listed, only a date.

Sideways, as though crossing a doorway required keeping one part of herself turned toward escape until the room proved, inch by inch, that it would not close behind her differently than promised. The back door opened to Omar first, then the woman from the transport board, then finally the child. M.M. stepped inside without stepping fully inside, her left shoulder still angled toward the dark drive beyond. One small duffel hung from her hand. The other hand remained pressed against the tied strip of cloth at her wrist, checking it every few seconds as though the knot itself might disappear if she stopped paying attention.

Her parents spoiled her too much. Sanna went ahead, Anne followed, followed by Anne and Richard, who were also faintly behind her, and went upstairs. Yesterday's incident really did not make Anne feel better, but he was behind her, making Anne a little embarrassed. She herself did not know what he was looking at. Richard in the back looked at her small back, really wanted to hug it, but holding back was still best.

his idea of bonding under duress. Mila sat near the back, wrapped in a dark sweater that swallowed her hands. She scanned the room, not making eye contact. At least, not intentionally. There was Jonas, a wiry man in his forties with darting eyes and a voice like crushed gravel. He spoke to shadows more than people. Eloise, mid-twenties, mute by choice, with a sketchpad full of disturbing drawings she never let anyone see. Hassan, older, ex-military, always standing near exits, hyper-alert, like he was waiting for a war no one else could see.

Something about first impressions. I couldn't care less about their opinion. The more horrible, the better. I was busy pulling on the dress, trying to get comfortable when the doors opened. Finally! Time to set my plan into motion. I looked up mustering all my strength, it needs to be perfect. However, I took one look at my future fiancé and my plan went out the window. "Jason?"