Episode 1

The bus rattled to a stop in front of Franklin High, its brakes squealing like something alive. Maya Torres stayed in her seat until the aisle cleared. She always preferred the back—fewer eyes on her, fewer people brushing too close.

The driver’s gaze caught hers in the rearview mirror. “You new?”

Maya nodded.

“Stay clear of the east wing,” he said, then looked away like he hadn’t spoken at all.

Outside, the November air was sharp enough to bite. She pulled her hood tighter and joined the slow stream of students toward the main doors. Franklin High was bigger than her last school, but older. The bricks looked tired. A line of windows on the right side was boarded up, the wood warped from rain.

She was halfway up the steps when someone bumped her shoulder.

“Watch it,” a girl snapped. Tall, blonde, perfect. She swept past with two other girls trailing like satellites. Maya said nothing. She’d learned in her last school that talking back was the fastest way to get noticed, and being noticed was dangerous.

---

The main hall smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and paper. Lockers stretched in both directions, some dented, most coated in chipped paint. A bulletin board displayed club flyers, announcements, and a yellowed newspaper clipping taped in the corner:

> “Franklin High Student Dies in Tragic Accident”

October 17, 2002 — Lila Martin, 16, was found…

The rest of the text was torn away.

“Hey,” a voice said. Maya turned to find a boy with messy dark hair and an oversized hoodie leaning against the lockers. “You’re new. I’m Eli.”

She offered a short nod. “Maya.”

His gaze flicked to the clipping. “That’s Hallway B’s girl.”

“Hallway B?”

He tilted his head toward the far end of the hall, where a double door stood under a faded EAST WING sign. One door was chained shut. The other hung slightly ajar but blocked by a metal gate.

“They sealed it after she died. Supposedly dangerous. But…” He grinned. “Some say she never left.”

Maya raised an eyebrow. “And you believe that?”

“I believe in good stories.” His grin widened. “Hallway B’s full of them.”

---

First period was history. Maya took the seat in the back, ignoring the sideways looks from a few students. The teacher, Mrs. Vega, handed out a syllabus, her eyes lingering on Maya a beat too long.

When the bell rang, Mrs. Vega called her over.

“Franklin High has its quirks,” she said quietly. “Avoid the east wing. Not just because of the rumors. The building’s unstable.”

Maya nodded, but Mrs. Vega’s tone was heavy, like the words carried more weight than they should.

---

By lunch, Maya had memorized the basic layout: main hall, science wing, gym to the west, cafeteria in the center. But her eyes kept drifting to that locked gate at the east end. Something about it pulled her—like the way a bruise begs to be pressed.

She was headed that way between classes when a group of boys blocked the hall. The tallest, with a smug smirk, stepped forward. “New girl. Heard you’re looking for Hallway B.”

“I’m not.”

He ignored her. “We do dares. You make it to the last locker in the hallway, you win. Fail, you buy lunch for a week.” His friends laughed.

Maya stepped to the side, but he moved with her. “Scared?”

She met his gaze, flat and steady. “Not interested.”

The smirk faltered, but before he could speak, a shrill clang echoed from behind the locked gate. Everyone froze. It wasn’t the kind of sound an empty hallway should make—it was deliberate, sharp, like a locker door slammed with force.

“Probably the janitor,” one boy muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

Maya walked away without looking back. But she felt eyes on her—not the boys’, not any student’s. Something else.

---

That night, at home, Maya unpacked the last of her boxes. She’d moved here with her mother after the… incident. They didn’t talk about it. She wasn’t sure they ever would.

Her phone buzzed—a text from an unknown number:

> You heard me.

No name, no follow-up. She frowned, set the phone down, and returned to unpacking.

Another buzz.

> Step into Hallway B.

She stared at the screen. No one here had her number—except the school office, and she doubted they sent creepy dares to students.

She deleted the texts.

---

The next morning, she found Eli waiting by her locker.

“You live close to school?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Because I saw the lights in Hallway B flicker last night. And I swear I saw someone inside.”

Maya didn’t reply.

“Most kids think it’s just ghost stories,” Eli continued, “but things happen there. People hear their names whispered. Some swear they’ve been touched. And…” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “…a kid went missing in 2014. Last seen near that hallway.”

Before she could respond, a shriek cut through the air from the east end. Students spilled into the hall, drawn by the sound.

At the gate to Hallway B stood a girl Maya recognized from her first morning—the blonde who’d bumped her. She was pale, shaking, her hands clutching the metal bars.

“It’s in there,” she whispered, eyes wild. “Something’s in there.”

Teachers rushed forward, pulling her away. But as they did, Maya’s gaze slid past the girl, through the small gap between gate and wall.

In the dim light beyond, she saw it: the shadow of bare feet, wet and pale, stepping slowly toward the gate… before vanishing into nothing.

---

Maya told herself she imagined it. Shadows play tricks. The mind makes shapes out of fear.

But later, in the cafeteria, she noticed something strange.

Her tray sat on the table untouched. Across from her, Jade Kim—the blonde—was staring, eyes cold.

“You saw it too,” Jade said. Not a question.

Maya hesitated. “…No.”

Jade’s lips curled into something almost like a smile. “Lying won’t save you.”

Before Maya could ask what she meant, Jade stood and walked away.

---

That night, the texts came again.

> Step into Hallway B.

You’re already halfway there.

Maya shut off her phone and lay in the dark. But sleep wouldn’t come. In her mind, she heard it—the sound from the gate. Not the clang. Not the shriek.

Footsteps.

Slow. Steady. Coming closer.

She pressed the pillow over her ears, but it didn’t help. Because the sound wasn’t in her head anymore.

It was in her hallway.

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