Chapter 2 - THE SILVER POCKET WATCH
The silence in the cafeteria was absolute.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody whispered.
Even the cafeteria workers behind the stainless-steel counters had stopped serving food.
Everyone was waiting to see what I would do.
I stood there, pasta sauce dripping from my chin, my hands trembling at my sides.
Olivia Harper was still smiling.
But as I looked closer, I noticed something else.
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Her knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the nearest table.
She looked terrified.
Before I could ask her why, heavy footsteps echoed across the linoleum floor.
Vice Principal Davis pushed through the crowd of students.
His face was flushed with anger.
But he didn’t look at Olivia.
He looked directly at me.
“Emma Brooks,” he barked, his voice echoing in the quiet room. “My office. Now.”
I blinked, the sauce stinging my eyes.
“Me?” I whispered. “But she threw the tray at me.”
“Do not argue with me,” Mr. Davis snapped. “You have caused enough of a disruption. Go to the nurse, get a change of clothes, and wait in my office.”
I looked around the room.
Three hundred students watched me.
Not one of them spoke up.
Not one of them told the vice principal what had actually happened.
I turned and walked out of the cafeteria, my ruined shoes squeaking against the floor.
The walk to the nurse’s office felt like it took hours.
I washed my face in the cold sink.
I scrubbed the mashed potatoes out of my hair with rough paper towels.
The nurse handed me a faded gray sweatpants and a generic school t-shirt.
I put them on, staring at my red, tear-stained face in the mirror.
Why did Olivia do it?
We had never even spoken to each other.
I walked to my locker to put my ruined uniform away before going to Mr. Davis’s office.
I dialed my combination.
Three to the right.
Two to the left.
One to the right.
I pulled the metal door open.
My heart stopped.
My backpack was unzipped.
Everything had been pulled out and shoved back in carelessly.
My notebooks were bent.
My pencil case was unzipped.
I frantically reached into the small front pocket.
It was empty.
The silver pocket watch was gone.
It was the only thing I had left of my father, who passed away when I was seven.
I never took it out. I never showed it to anyone.
I kept it with me because it made me feel safe.
I ripped my backpack apart, searching every corner.
Nothing.
But resting at the bottom of my locker, where the watch used to be, was a small, folded piece of thick cardstock.
I picked it up with shaking hands.
It was a beautiful, expensive invitation card.
The kind Olivia Harper’s family used for their legendary summer parties.
I opened it.
May you like
Written inside, in neat, elegant handwriting, was one sentence.
If you want to know how your father really died, come to the old library at 3:00 PM.
