Ivy, back then...
The buzz of my phone against the cold metal of the locker jolted me from my thoughts. I snatched it up, heart skipping a beat when I saw Aidan's name flash on the screen. "Meet me after school. The spot," the text read, short and cryptic. It was normal for him to be so blunt, so I was used to it.
But all day, there'd been a gap where Aidan should've been – his chair in English, mocking me with its emptiness. With every class we shared that ticked by, concern wormed deeper into my mind.
He never missed school. Not without spamming my phone with messages about how bored he was at home. I chewed my lip nervously as I tried to focus on what the teachers were saying, but it was like trying to listen underwater.
"Probably just sick," I muttered to myself, but the words felt hollow. Aidan wasn't one to get sick, and even if he did, he'd be dramatic about it, making sure everyone knew he was dying of a mere cold.
