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"She's not come into school again today," I say, with a frown. I don't know why I'm so obsessive over Miss Sorenson, but I know it runs deeper than just the potential danger with her shifting.
"I'm a little worried too," Sean says.
"I've called her home and spoke to her mom. She was reluctant to tell me anything, but said Sang was sick," I tell him, causing his eyebrows to raise. "Her birthday is in two days, and since we don't know when she was born she could shift at any point."
"No I get it," Sean says, nervously running his hands through his hair. "Maybe we should do a house call just to get eyes on her."
"That's not a bad idea," I muse. "I'll go. You're covering for the nurse—again."
"I know," Sean says, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "What are you going to say?"
"I'll make something up," I reply. "I just need... I just want to make sure she's okay."
I can't explain this urge I have that she's in danger. Over the past week, my instincts towards her have grown and I just need to see her.
I grab my briefcase, and make my way to the car park. Luckily I'm not stopped on my way out, and I make it to Sunnyvale Court in record time. I pause in her driveway, straining to hear what I can before I knock.
There's no sounds, other than some show on TV which isn't surprising. If she's ill, hopefully she's just laying on the sofa watching some shit show. I knock on the door, and hear a whispered threat that has my hackles raising before frail, slow footsteps make their way down the stairs.
"What do you want?" a scratchy voice snaps, without opening the door.
"Mrs Sorenson? My name is Owen Blackbourne and I'm one of the teachers at Sang and Marie's school," I reply.
"What do you want?" she repeats, sounding angry.
"Sang has not been in school for the last couple of days, and—" I start.
"She's sick," Mrs Sorenson says, but her heart rate increases and I know she's lying.
"We would require a doctor's note if she's going to be off more than seventy-two hours," I lie, and I can smell her fear. Interesting reaction.
"She'll be back in school tomorrow then," Mrs Sorenson says, but I don't believe that either. "Now, I have to go. Get off my property."
She doesn't move from the door, and I know she's watching me. With a small sigh, I get in the car and drive around the block, parking down the street at Nathan's. Then on foot, I make my way back to the house.
I can't ignore the feeling that something is wrong, and shifter or not, I won't leave her until I know for sure.
Listening outside the house, I hear Mrs Sorenson yelling down the phone and I can only presume that she's talking to her husband. My worry isn't on her though, but her daughter.
