With a wide grin on my face, I skipped downstairs, eagerly anticipating breakfast. But as soon as I entered the dining room, my smile faltered. Dad was already there, seated at the table, his face a storm of tension. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing a prominent forehead that seemed perpetually furrowed. His strong jaw was clenched tight, and his deep-set eyes, normally a soft brown, were now cold and distant. His tall, broad-shouldered frame seemed to loom over the table, casting a long shadow that matched the heaviness in the room.
Mom was already at work in the kitchen, her petite figure moving gracefully as she set the table. Her warm brown eyes, always so full of life and kindness, were clouded with concern today. Her face was soft, framed by chestnut hair that she usually wore in a loose bun. Even with the stress of the morning, she wore her typical bright smile, trying to ease the tension that Dad's presence created.
I know Dad doesn't like to see my face before going to work, I thought, feeling a familiar knot in my stomach. I should probably go back to my room. Mom usually calls me after Dad's gone. So why is she calling me now?
Mom's voice broke through my thoughts. "Cal, come and sit down. Let's have breakfast together today," she said warmly, clearly making an effort to create a sense of family unity. Reluctantly, I made my way to the table and took a seat beside Dad. But as soon as I sat down, he pushed back his chair and stood up abruptly, as if he couldn't bear to be near me.
"Honey, please sit down," Mom said softly, untangling her apron and taking her seat next to Dad. She forced a smile, her eyes flicking between Dad and me, and added, "I've got a great idea for today. Why don't we go out? It'll be nice for us to spend some time together, especially with Carla on vacation. A little outing could be just what we need."
I glanced at Dad, and his silence was deafening. It seemed to hang over us like a heavy fog, making it hard for me to enjoy the pancakes Mom had made. The pancakes were delicious—Mom's specialty—but Dad's anger tainted everything, turning the meal into a bitter experience.
Without warning, Dad stood up abruptly, his face twisted with frustration. "I know what you're doing. Don't even think about trying that again!" he snapped, tossing his napkin onto the table with a force that made the silverware clatter.
Disheartened, I watched his harsh words fill the room. A frown creased my face as I tried to make sense of it all. I knew Dad wasn't exactly affectionate with me, but why couldn't he show some respect to Mom? She worked so hard to hold everything together. As I tried to regain my composure, tears started to slide down my cheeks, mingling with the syrup on my plate.
Mom gently reached over and took my hands in hers. "He doesn't hate you, Cal. He's just really stressed about work, I promise," she said, her voice gentle and reassuring.
Our conversation was abruptly interrupted by the ringtone of Mom's phone. She glanced at the screen and frowned. "It's Rose. Where's your phone, Cal?"
"Oh, I don't know. It's probably around here somewhere," I said, grabbing Mom's phone and answering the call.
"Cal, thank God it's you!" Rose blurted out in a rush. "I've been trying to reach you for ages. I've called you a hundred times over the past two days! Where have you been? I'm really worried. Turn on the TV."
"Whoa, what happened?" I asked, standing up from my seat and making my way to the living room.
"Switch it to the news channel," Rose's voice wavered slightly, trembling with urgency.
The TV flickered to life, and suddenly the screen filled with bold, flashing words: Breaking News. A somber voice echoed from the speakers, grabbing my attention.
"Max Jackson," the anchor's tone was grave, "the son of renowned builder Arthur Jackson, has been found dead."
The headline scrolled ominously across the bottom: "MAX JACKSON DEAD: POLICE LAUNCH INVESTIGATION." A heavy pause followed as the camera cut to a blurred image of flashing lights and a growing crowd. The news ticker below kept spinning, relentless: "Police remain tight-lipped... Cause of death unknown... Jackson family yet to comment..."
The anchor continued, a new tension in his voice. "Authorities have also confirmed that a young boy, identified as James, was found not far from the scene. He appeared disoriented and severely injured. Police have launched an investigation into his involvement or potential witness status, but they have yet to comment on any details."
I could feel the weight of every word, the unsettling chill that came with it, lingering in the air like static.
I couldn't catch the rest of the news because Rose was calling again. "Carla, are you there? Did you see what happened? Swing by my place; we're heading to Ella's, and I'll call Scarlett to join us." Before I could say anything, she hung up abruptly.
Max Jackson. Man, he was a legend at college—good-looking, with slicked-back black hair and those dark brown eyes that made everyone swoon. He had the whole package, or at least that's what people thought. But honestly, he was a jerk who only cared about himself. He knew his dad's money would fix any mess he got into. And to top it off, Max was dating Ella, my closest friend.
The shock hit hard. Max's death was a huge deal, and now everything felt like it was spinning out of control.
I toss the phone onto the sofa, not really thinking, and rush to my room. My mom's urgent words keep echoing in my head, making me even more panicked.
I start frantically searching my room, but it's like my phone has just disappeared. No matter where I look, it's nowhere to be found, and my frustration starts building. I try to remember the last time I had it, but my brain isn't cooperating. Even worse, the phone's off, so I can't even call it. I'm running out of time.
I drop to the floor and peer under the bed, and there it is, hiding under the bed frame like it's playing some kind of sick game. I stretch out my arm as far as I can, fingers just brushing the edge of the phone. After what feels like forever, I finally grab it. The relief is real when I see it still has some battery left.
But then it starts ringing loudly, making my heart skip a beat. I unlock it and check my call logs—80 missed calls from Rose and Ella. Another 18 from Scarlett. They've been blowing up my phone for the last week. What on earth is going on?
Feeling curious and anxious, I open WhatsApp and head straight to our group chat, Best Bitches Forever. The group is flooded with messages, everyone freaking out, but there's nothing about Max, no answers I'm hoping for.
I give up on the messages for now and turn my attention to packing. My hands move quickly as I grab a small bag from the closet, throw in one pair of underwear, and toss in an extra set of clothes. I don't know what's going to happen, but just in case things get worse, I decide to crash at Ella's place for the night.
Snatching my car keys from the bedside table, I make sure I've got my phone, then lock my room behind me. I hurry down the stairs, catching a glimpse of my mom washing dishes in the kitchen. Everything looks so normal, but my mind is spinning. With a deep breath, I step out, locking the door behind me. It's time to get some answers.