Tracking Logan Foster

{17} Faded

"Logan Foster."

An insufferable snicker raised the hairs on the back of my neck, causing me to flinch when the owner sneered, "Mrs. Drew, you pronounced Suicidal Emo wrong."

I hadn't seen Logan for two months now. I had no idea where he had gone, what he was doing, or how he was.

For all I knew, he could be...

Dead.

Vehemently shaking my head in denial of the previous statement, I involuntarily drew the unwanted attention of every student in room 117 on myself.

Mrs. Drew made a mark on her clipboard before glimpsing up, scanning the class until her eyes met mine.

"Do you know where he is?" She asked, giving me a stern look through her thick rimmed glasses as if I had something to do with his mysterious disappearance.

I numbly gave an indecipherable response, admitting a simple, "No."

She kept her eyes on me for a second too long, letting out a lengthy sigh as she pushed the glasses higher up her nose. "If you know anything," she demanded, "You must tell me."

I nodded and the rest of the class carried on as it had been for these last few months. Every day it was the same; a student would make a comment about Logan's absence and Mrs. Drew would interrogate me about it.

Wyatt would give me strange looks, rolling her eyes when I wouldn't say a word as I sat beside her.

I had finally had enough of it all. Consequently, I decided to venture to the very place I hadn't visited since that certain boy had still been around.

After school, I packed up my belongings as quickly as possible before heading outside and straight for the woods behind the school that connected to my backyard.

It wasn't winter anymore. Flowers were blooming in the wake of dried grass and fallen twigs from the limbs of the trees that were now sprinkled with healthy green leaves. The smell of pine wafted through my nostrils as I took a deep breath, unconsciously searching for a head of dirty blonde hair with dark brown eyes.

When no such match to the description made an appearance, I unceremoniously dropped my backpack to the ground, taking a seat at the edge of the railroad tracks.

With elbows resting on bent knees, I propped my head up in my hands as I stared at the ground, accompanied by birds singing their songs in the sky.

A particular long and sturdy stick caught my attention and I lifted it off the ground, laying the tip in the dirt as I gently dragged it through the muddied area.

I lost track of time as I scribbled letters into the ground, tattooing the earth with a single question.

Where are you?

I half expected Logan to come striding out of the trees with one of his rare smiles that seemed to light up the midnight skies, saying that he had been waiting here for me.

Yet, all I heard was the incessant sound of a horn blaring close by. Leaping off of my temporary seat, I stood a few feet away as a train passed, tossing my hair in every direction as it zoomed by.