Between the Lines✔ [COMPLETED]

[6] A Dangerous Mission

Malory

The next day arrives, and I'm sitting in my seat when a depressed Ron appears through our classroom doors and sits in his seat –the one right in front of mine- and rests his chin on the back of it, frowning.

"He didn't come today," he says.

Something about his absence makes me uneasy. 

Could it only be the fact that he's almost never missed a day of school in all of our time at Audrey Burkes High?

It can't possibly be because I was missing my daily dose of annoyance. 

The silence is refreshing, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it but...

But what?

But what, Malory?

But, Kyle is missing.

"Jeez," I mutter. "What is up with him?"

Another day passes at Audrey Burkes and again, Davidson is absent. I should have followed the part of me saying to forget about him and keep enjoying the silence, but the bruise kept reappearing on a projected screen in my head and every single time I saw it I could have sworn I shivered openly.

"We had a biology assessment today, too," Olivia tells me. She frowns. "He missed it."

I bite down on my chicken wing and rip the skin from the rest of the meat, chewing on it. "Strange..." I say, glaring at nothing specifically.

The next day comes around, and still, there is no Kyle Davidson. Ron and I are in the middle of third period history class, and I could no longer take not knowing anything anymore. I stare at the back of his head as he slouches into his seat, sighing restlessly as the teacher speaks. I open my notebook to the back page and rip it out, scribbling a note and rolling it up to poke him on the shoulder with it. He reads, replies, and returns the page, and so our conversation commences.

Still nothing? –M

No replies to messages, no nothing. –R

Gosh... I'm a little worried –M

Only a little? –R

I... hope he's not dead –M

Don't make me pass out with such a gruesome thought –R

We have to do something about this –M

Like what? –R

Truthfully, I didn't know what I wanted to do. I don't know what I could do about it. I spend the rest of the history class thinking and thinking and thinking about what the hell I should do. Then, the idea blooms just as the bell rings. Our history teacher finishes up her lesson and leaves with a polite 'Good morning, everyone,' and Ron swings around in his seat to face me. My mouth curls slowly into a huge smirk. 

The look on my face must be a little disturbing because I almost laugh when Ron responds.

"I can't read your mind. Spill whatever's going on in your head right now... that... look is making me nervous."

"I have an idea," I say.

It would only take me five minutes to get through to the one person I could ask for such assistance.

His name was Justin Dean.

___

Lunch rolls in and I'm off to the school newsroom faster than the Year Ones are to the cafeteria on an average day. I walk cheerily into the room to find a thin, tall guy, sitting on a moss green couch in the corner of the room, tapping away on his laptop. He has the same gigantic, baby blue glasses over his eyes that he'd managed to keep well maintained since we were both in Year One. I can't say I was surprised, though. He seems like that kind of guy who would keep his personal belongings that way.