Bane of My Existence

Father

Thursday, May 17th

The week progresses, Celia wakes up, slips on the spot, manhandles some oats, and makes Stiles his half cup of joe. Thursday morning during Herbology & Botany, an elective course the group managed to fit within their respective schedules, the energy among the class is palpably different. Upon entering the room the class is humming with whispers and low chatter, Celia only able to make out fractured key words like "father" and "gone". Taking their seats, Stiles sends a confused look around the room, locking eyes with Celia. Opening her mouth to speak, Scott clatters into his seat diverting Stiles' attention.

"Hey man, do you know what's happening?" He asks.

"No," Scott exhales. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

Celia looks to Lydia who has been reading intently, head down since they've sat. Upon closer look though Celia sees she's not reading, but listening.

"Someone's missing." Lydia states.

The group turns to face her, Stiles leaning in closer.

"Who?"

"I don't know"

Celia turns to look towards the back of the room, a seat closest to the window empty.

"Like she hasn't been to class or-"

"I mean missing, Stiles."

Lydia's temper was curt with his incessant questions often, but now that the situation seemed serious, her patience was limited.

The professor enters the classroom. A tall, lanky man in his mid-to-late thirties, jet black hair slicked back until it curled behind his ears, black round rimmed glasses and eyes so dark they were the color of soot. I find him intriguing, Lydia once remarked, or maybe I just think he's attractive.

"Good morning class," his voice boomed.

The room quieted to silence as he stood waiting for their undivided attention.

"I'm sure by now many of you have heard whisperings of the current situation involving one of your classmates, Emile Warren."

Emile Warren. Celia could only picture her, sitting by the windows, bleached platinum blonde hair and a diamond monroe piercing glistening above her lip. She always looked so cool, but they had never spoken, Celia sure she wasn't Emile's crowd.

"If you have any information on Emile's whereabouts there are officers on campus today taking any information you may have in the Student Affairs Office. If you are personally affected by Emile's disappearance, counselors are available..." The professor trails off as he turns toward the board, clearly deeming the latter half of information less important.

He writes the date and chosen plant genus of conversation for the class as Stiles shifts, clearly engrossed in internal debate.

"Don't." Celia warns but his hand shoots up in the air, twitching urgently. His curiosity would kill him one day and his need to be involved in business outside his own irked the group.

Scott sends him a look, "Stiles-"

The professor turns toward the class, Stiles halfway out of his seat, one hand raised and the other searching blindly for his backpack. The professor sighs and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, allowing his hand to linger for a moment.