Briar Preparatory Academy: International

A Missing Piece

Celeste POV

The next morning is a Saturday, which means no classes and no classwork to catch up on. Still the mental alarm clock that wakes me up at 6 a.m. on the nose is ringing in my mind and I stare blankly at the dark ceiling above me. Kate is fast asleep in her bed on the other side of the room loosely clutching a textbook. I try not to giggle as she lets a soft snore escape her. I yawn and sit up, stretching my arms and glance out the blinds at the window, where the first sign of sunlight is creeping in. I throw the covers off my legs and wobble to my feet, feeling my way through the dark room. I tip-toe over to the side of Kate's bed and carefully take the textbook from her arms and set it on the bedside table, dog-earing the page that she had open. She doesn't move an inch.

I move to the closet and pull out a pair of jeans and a sweater. Already, the colder weather of the year is seeping into the Wyoming air and the dark, cloudy days are returning. As a girl born and raised in California, it took me the first two years of attending the Academy to get used to the constant wind and chilly temperatures. But I grew to almost miss it after a while when I would return home in the summers.

When I step outside the room, the hallways are still lit. They stay this way twenty-four-seven. I quietly make my way down the hallway, hearing few early risers behind closed doors. Outside, the sun is starting to peak it's eyes above the mountain tops, and I stop and gaze at it for a few seconds. It spreads warmth across my face, and I take a deep breath in of the cool air. I then continue my trek to the small building across the courtyard. I know that my grandfather is awake and working by now. He arrives at the Academy early in the morning and begins his paperwork at his desk until five o'clock, when he is relieved and returns home to his mansion on the opposite end of Chesterfield. I knock on the door as a message for my entrance, and then peek my head in. The Headmaster of the Academy smiles at me and beckons me in. "Good morning, darling."

I blink at the term of of endearment before taking a seat in front of his desk. It's still odd for him to call me such names, but three months has proven to be helpful in getting used to it. I still call him Headmaster, however. I imagine that one day I will call him something different; maybe after I've graduated and moved on to another part of my life. But for right now, he is still my Headmaster and teacher. "Good morning," I offer a smile and criss-cross my legs beneath me.

"What brings you here so early this morning? You should be getting your rest on a Saturday." Lockharte says, and sets his pen down.

"I went to bed early last night. Foreign language test took a lot of energy out of me. But I can to ask you something." I say.

"Go on, my dear." he says. He takes his glasses off his face and blinks his old eyes at me.

"Yesterday, I met the Cutshall family. Their daughter is a freshman this year. Lynne."

"Yes, she is very bright. I had the pleasure of seeing her parents as well. They stopped by before they left for home," Lockharte says, "They were excellent students in their years here."

"So I've heard," I respond, and take a deep breath. "They said that they were good friends with my parents and the Vegas family as well."

Lockharte sets his face into a straight line. "They were, indeed."

"Headmaster it's--" I pause and look down at the floor, "It's been three months, and I've never even seen a picture of my mother. And I was in class last week, not really paying attention. And I realized that... I've forgotten her face. My father's too. I forgot how their voices sounded a long time ago. I know that you've told me stories about them and who they are but it's not the same. There aren't any pictures in your house of them or anything. I keep picturing these two people without faces or voices just carrying certain actions."