Notes

A Note

I'm shaking as I set the phone down on the table. Mom must be fast asleep right now, otherwise she would be next to me. To be honest, I really don't want anyone around me right now.

The clock reads eleven forty-seven a.m. I should be doing my biology essay right now since it's Sunday, but I think someone else's life is more important than freaking chloroplasts and vacuoles. The only thing that remotely matters right now is finding Dylan, and I intend to just as much.

I grab my phone on instinct and unlock it. I stop as I pull up my contacts list. Should I ask Becky for a ride? No. This is something I need to do on my own. I creep to my room making sure to not wake Mom up. It's cold outside, fifty degrees to be exact, so I pull on my gray Aeropostale jacket and my gray Toms to match. I'm still wearing sweatpants and a baggy shirt from sleeping, but I couldn't care less about what other people think. I'm dressed in the perfect apparel for Walmart, if I were going there.

I trudge back down to the kitchen, where I grab a mocha iced coffee, and exit out the back door. Taking a swig of my drink, I open up the small shed located next to the brown fence that surrounds my backyard. My mom is all about privacy if you haven't noticed. Inside the shed, I roll out my scooter. Before you ask, no, it's not a little kid scooter. It's a battery-powered scooter that's blue and has a nifty cup holder. I consider myself a hipster, what with this scooter and my oversized glasses.

I sit on my scooter, and place my coffee in its convenient spot. My scooter simply has a turn on button, which makes it easy to steal, but I don't think I'd be able to keep up with the keys. I turn the knob to the right, and bring life to this method of transportation. Gripping the handlebars, I drive smoothly out of my backyard and down my driveway, but before I turn onto the street, I stop to think. Where should I look? He's obviously not at his house, so I can take that off my search list.

After a short thinking session, I decide to drive around our small town and look for signs of his car or just him. Our town, Kingston, is literally the smallest town you will ever encounter. I live in one of three small neighborhoods, which are all bunched together in a fifteen mile radius. Main Street consists of the small convenience store, the post office, bank, Wilma's Breakfast Place, and Burger Joint. Yes, the burger joint is called Burger Joint. Classic right?

To top off the town, you have the school district. We have a decent sized football field, and one tennis court. As for the schools, there is a high school, and then the junior high and elementary are in conjoined buildings. Thank God I'm in high school; I wouldn't be able to stand another year with bullies and screaming kids isolated into one building.

I cruise down Main Street, which is heavily occupied at Wilma's since it's Sunday morning. There's no sign of Dylan or anyone else's car I would recognize at first glance. 'Heavily occupied' for me is two pickups and a Chevy crowding the street. It looks so crowded since there are at least twenty trees growing around here, but there's no harm done during the summer when they block the burning sunlight.

I stop and park at Wilma's. I park directly in front of the window that reads "Wilma's Breakfast Place. For all Kingston's hungry bellies- We'll fill ya right up!"

Not the greatest advertisement, but what would you expect? I take the last drink of my coffee and throw it into the nearest trash can. I then walk through the door and am greeted by the smell of pancakes, blueberry muffins, and coffee, along with loud, happy voices.

"Well I'll be shucked, it's Tessa! I haven't seen ya'll in weeks!" greets Wilma's country voice. She pulls me into a hug like a grandma would, and I have no choice but to hug back. She is a plump, small lady with blonde hair. Basically a grandma figure; she has her red flannel apron on every time I see her.

"Hi Wilma. How have you been?" I ask, now dreadfully craving some blueberry pancakes.

She smiles a big ol' smile that makes me smile and so now we're both smiling. (Don't you just love smiling?) "I've been mighty fine, thanks for asking! How about you and your momma?"

"We've both been fine. She just finished a shift at the hospital so she's at home sleeping." I reply, still smiling. My cheeks are starting to hurt, and my stomach is rumbling. I just ate not too long ago, but Sunday is a fat day for me.

Wilma pinches my cheeks and laughs a hearty, southern laugh. "I think you're in need of some world famous pancakes, missy!"

I laugh. "That would be great." I really should just ask about Dylan and leave, but it's hard to work on an empty stomach. I couldn't leave now that Wilma has tempted me with her mouth-watering pancake offer.

I sit down in the booth nearby, and eagerly await my order. Wilma's cooking is finished surprisingly fast, and I say this because every item on the menu is amazing. Wilma herself brings me my plate which consists of two freshly-made blueberry pancakes, syrup, and a piece of turkey bacon. To top it all off, a tall glass of milk. This is heaven. Wilma sits down across from me, and sips a coffee.

"So, darlin'. You usually just don't stop on by on a Sunday mornin'." she inquires, followed by another sip of coffee.

I finishing chewing the heavenly food that is currently in my mouth. I then take a drink of milk and speak. "Yeah. There is someone I'm looking for."

"Who would that be?"

I clear my throat. "You know my friend Dylan."

"Mr. Wilson? Why, yes! He's a nice fella."

I force a laugh, like I always do. I really need to stop doing that. "Well, his mom called me this morning. He hasn't been home for about a day. Have you seen him?"

Wilma's expression quickly changes from her happy self, to a worried look that makes me depressed just looking at her. "I, um. I happened to see him this mornin'."

My head shoots up. "Really? When?"

Her grip on her coffee mug seems to tighten. "He was my first customer this morning. He came in about, oh, five thirty?"

"Did he say anything about what he was doing today?" I try not to pressure Wilma, but Dylan is the only thing I care about right now. I need to know that he's okay.

She avoids eye contact with me, but speaks anyway. "He left a note for you, Tessa."

I think my face is paling. "May I see it?" I stifle out.

She nods her head and gets up. I push my half-eaten plate away from me, my appetite has suddenly disappeared. Wilma returns about a minute later, with a small paper in her hand. She gives it to me, but I don't open it yet.

She gives a sympathetic smile. "Breakfast is on the house, dearie. You can go on your way."

"Thank you so much, Wilma." I tell her, and give her another hug before leaving.

I exit the building, and step onto the sidewalk. The wind has suddenly picked up, and all the trees' branches are waving like crazy. If I have to go somewhere, I better go there quick. I saddle up onto my scooter, turn it on, and stare at the paper in my hand. With shaking hands and goose bumps, I unfold the note.

The note contains two sentences. Sixteen words. Sixty-one letters.

"Tessa-

       I didn't want to tell you just yet. You'll find out more at my house.

                                                    -Dylan.

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We hit one hundred reads! Thank you guys so much! My overall goal for this story is 500, so hopefully we can get there soon!