They tell an unsettling story

"Veronica Samuels," Donna says quietly. "She was hit by a train, just outside of town. The coroner's inquest ruled it accidental. She was walking across an overpass and slipped and fell over, in front of a train."

"That seems a little unlikely," you say.

"Mmm. Possibly. It could have happened that way." Her voice is neutral, and Lorri carefully keeps her face stoic and emotionless.

"I get the feeling you're not convinced," you say.

"Like I said, it could happen that way," she shrugs. "But Veronica was an emotional girl. Prone to drama. There was a story that she was upset, boyfriend trouble of some kind. That made for some speculation that she committed suicide."

"Did this come up at the coroner's inquest?"

"Yes, but it was dismissed as being a rumor. The supposed boyfriend was never named."

"You'd have needed a phone book," Lorri snorts. "Ronny Samuels banged harder than a screen door in a windstorm. I doubt that girl ever felt strongly enough about any boy to kill herself for him."

"Who was she involved with?" you ask.

"Who wasn't she involved with would be easier," Lorri continues as Donna frowns thoughtfully. "The gardeners, the maintenance guys, the young bucks from Hamilton, boys from town, even a few of the older men, businessmen in town. A couple of fathers of other students, if you believe every rumour. It's not unlikely."

"So she was a tramp," you say, shaking your head. "Not to be cruel, but from what I've seen in the last few days she probably wasn't alone in that."

"Maybe a little more than the others who are man crazy," Donna says, shaking her head. "A little more brazen. She didn't start out that way. When she came here she was shy, almost nervous around men."

"That didn't last long," Lorri adds. "About two months into the school year I walked in on her taking on two of the gardeners in my classroom. I didn't report it, because they'd have lost their jobs and it was obviously something she'd initiated. I broke it up, and talked to her about it, but it was clear she wasn't interested in my opinion. I kept an eye on her, and she got more and more brazen. By the time she showed up for her second year she might as well have had a sign around her neck."

"At the fundraising auction she strutted around like a whore," Donna adds. "She was offering baby sitting services, but it looked like she was offering to service whoever won the auction."

"Sure drove the price up though," Lorri laughs. "You should have seen those old white businessmen bidding. None of them with children under 20, and all of them bidding to have her look after their grandkids." She snorts scornfully and takes a drink, shaking her head.

"Who won the auction?"

"Lewis Pender. He's a realtor in town. Fifty something. Widower," Donna answers.

"You think she..."

"Fucked him?" Lorri asks. "It's a mortal lock Marine. I saw her when she left to go babysit, supposedly for his grand daughter. She was dressed like she was going clubbing; short dress painted on, stiletto heels, the whole deal."

"You're not saying that all the girls in this fundraising auction are selling themselves are you?" you ask incredulously. "Is that why you oppose it Donna?"

"I oppose it because it's an archaic display, and sends the wrong message in our current world. And no, I'm not saying that the girls are whoring themselves at the auction. Just that Veronica was."

You shake your head, trying to process what you're hearing, taking a swig of beer to give yourself time to think.