The next day dawned, heralding the last day of school before the winter break, a moment of anticipation and festivity. With a sense of eagerness, I made my way to my usual seat, ready to savour the freedom that the upcoming holiday promised.
As I settled into my seat, a sense of curiosity tingled within me when Misza, a classmate who had never engaged in conversation with me before, approached. His decision to break his silence piqued my interest, leaving me to wonder about the reasons behind his sudden interaction.
I met his greeting with a quizzical expression, my brows furrowing with a hint of confusion. Our encounter was shrouded in mystery, as the unspoken question of "why now?" lingered between us, casting a veil of intrigue over the otherwise ordinary school day.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the schoolyard. As I made my way to the central courtyard, my thoughts were a tumultuous swirl of emotions, tangled and unresolved. There, amid the chatter and laughter of my fellow students, I saw him - Misza, the boy I had known since childhood.
"He asked how I was," I thought to myself, my gaze following his approach. His voice had been tinged with an odd mix of curiosity and distance. He wanted to know how I was, or so it seemed. It was a question I had been asked countless times before, but this time, it carried an unusual weight.
"I'm good," I replied, my words almost automatic. Misza however, seemed to be operating on a different wavelength. He nodded briefly and, without another word, turned and walked away. The abruptness of his departure left me bewildered, a nagging sense of confusion gnawing at me.
At that moment, I had been on the verge of saying something, something that wasn't typical of me, something that I knew I shouldn't utter within the hallowed halls of my school. "What a…" I had almost exclaimed aloud, but my conscience quickly intervened. My school had a reputation for strict discipline, and using profanity was strictly forbidden.
I stifled my words, but the unspoken profanity still echoed in my mind. It was a testament to the strange encounter I had just experienced. Misza's actions were inexplicable. I pondered over his swift exit, wondering if there was something he hadn't said, something he had chosen not to share.
My mind then drifted to the reason behind his unusual inquiry. Perhaps he had wanted to ask me about Khia's death.
Readers, that's it for Rosewood Secrets that I know maybe next year something big might happen at Rosewood Academy.
Your writer, Amina Kowg, signing out, but eagerly waiting to share the next chapter of the Rosewood Chronicles with you all