Like every other high school, the students of Ravenwood Academy know nothing more beyond the world of their own teenage lives -- a world of classes to pass, social reputations to live up to, and dirty little secrets to keep.
But when strange dangero...
Sander lay back on his bed, his laptop shut off on his desk, his essay for History class almost halfway done. He'll continue it tomorrow, he told himself. He still had time. At least he got something started, did something to lighten the load.
There was a buzzing sound next to him, a vibration. Sander reached for his phone on the bedside table, answered the call.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hey, Sander. It's Lyn."
Sander sat up. "Hey, Lyn. How did you—"
"Talya."
"Oh, right. She's your roommate."
"Yeah, she gave me your number. I asked for it." A pause. "Um, Sander, I've got to talk to Damien. Is Damien there?"
"No. He left around eight. He said he was going to The Raven's Nest to meet with Jack and his other friends. Do you want to leave a—"
"Sander, he isn't here."
His eyebrows creased. "What?"
"He isn't here in The Raven's Nest."
"But he said—"
"I've been waiting here for more than an hour now," said Lyn. "We were supposed to meet up for our English presentation. I arrived here a few minutes before eight, and he still hasn't shown up."
Sander said nothing, thinking—remembering.
"Sander? Sander?"
"I'll head down to Jack's room," he said, getting to his feet. "I've got a theory as to where Damien and Jack might be, but I've got to see it for myself to know if I'm on the right track. And I'm guessing Max might've gone with them as well. But if he happens to still be in his and Jack's room, I can ask him."
Lyn heaved a sigh. "Just let me know, okay?"
Sander grabbed some clothes from his wardrobe. "I will."
"Thanks, Sander."
"No problem."
And with that, Lyn hung up.
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Max strummed his guitar—once, twice. He breathed in, then coughed to clear his throat. Atop a stack of textbooks on his desk, his phone stood balanced between his pencil case and a small plastic case of mosquito bite ointment. He could see himself on the screen, nervous yet determined.
Yesterday, Jack, his oh-so-helpful roommate, promised to help him film this. But the second Jack returned from his shower after basketball practice early that evening, he said there was a party he needed to attend that night.
It's a popular kids thing, Jack said. Maybe next time, Jack said, smiling that signature smile of his.
Screw it. Max could do it himself. He needed to tell her now before the feelings fade.
