Transparent lives

Chapter two- Rigid Folk

The next morning was very gloomy, dark grey sky and the promise of rain on the weather channel. Timothy trudged through the usual morning routine, wake up, eat, dress and brush teeth. Standard. His mother handed him a lunch before he left and his father was still asleep. After some small talk the Junior left for school again. He felt weighed down when he stepped out, the humidity in the air clinging to him like a thick cloak of sorrow. The normal crowd filed up to the school building, less perky than yesterday. Oliver was there, standing by the side of the courtyard and seemed to be chatting up a storm with Matthew who looked... less than thrilled with this predicament.
    Timothy walked over, tilting his head and patting the small Senior on the shoulder. He looked up. "Oh! Hi, I was just telling Matthew about this art museum that opened down the street, I would love to go." Matt coughed under his breath. "You were saying. Over. and over. And over." Timothy gave him a small glare over Oliver's head before smiling down to him. 'I could take you if you want.' His eyes brightened but he paused and shook his head. "No no, it's okay. I can take myself." Oliver offered a kind smile, so Tim just nodded. The bell ran loudly from the school building and a hundred heads seemed to turn in unison, starting to move forward, thousands of feet doing the same shuffle, blank looks on their faces. A normal Wednesday.
    The weather didn't seem to affect the teachers though, in fact it seemed to make them even more enthusiastic about 'learning'. Ms. Magnus was happy to give them two hours worth of homework while lecturing them on top of it all, and left them close to no time to make notes. Oliver was luckily a fast writer, so he got most of it down. Matthew was back asleep though, despite most of the class now being awake, and was cuddling his bag. He didn't get notes this time, and Oliver's hands hurt from writing so much. The bell rang soon and the class seemed to let out a collective sigh. Matthew jolted up. He looked around before grabbing his notebook, not even bothering to look through it, and shoved it into his bag.
    Timothy on the other hand was struggling his way through Chemistry class, writing down formulas and substances. He had a scowl on his face as he tapped the end of his pencil against his paper. A few more minutes of this and he would slam his head against the table in frustration. Thankfully the bell rung before he could give a silent scream, one purely of air. He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder and sighing. He turned to go down the hall and noticed The Watcher, standing there and staring at him. She had a blank look on her face, the deadness in her grey eyes piercing his soul and sending a shiver up his spine. The Watcher continued to stare for a moment before turning and walking off.
    Matthew wasn't in Oliver's next class, even though he was suppose to be. He scanned the rows of people, but the red haired Irishman was nowhere to be found. Oliver wasn't too worried, people here skipped class all the time. He watched as the Latin teacher strode into the room. Mr. Lenus was a younger man, only a few years out of college. He was a fair skinned male with the most vivid brown eyes, and a thin bit of chin hair that was combed back. His hair was a jet black, all the girls practically swooned over him, and a thick accent that wasn't quite spanish, but almost there. He was one of the more liked teacher, probably because of his looks, but he was also really good at what he taught. Matthew didn't seem to like him much, Oliver figured he'd ditch the class sooner or later.  It didn't matter though, he was engulfed in the lesson already.
    The rest of the day Matthew was missing, and Oliver's worry mounted each period he didn't see him. He walked around the courtyard, asking different people but most gave him the same response, sometimes a different variation. 'He's probably off somewhere.' 'He's just off in the woods probably'. Oliver noticed they each seemed to glance around for something as they responded. He huffed and walked over to Timothy, thinking maybe he had something to say.
    Timothy was quiet though, only giving him a small almost pitying smile. He ruffled his hair and sighed. 'Best not ask those questions, Oli.' He turned and gestured for him to follow. Oliver just sighed and trot forward behind him. He kept his head down as they walked, thinking and tapping his finger on the sleeve of his bag. The two parted ways and walked to their individual houses. Oliver opened the door and instantly went to his room. He slipped his bag off his shoulders and flung it to the side, sitting on the edge of his bed and grabbing his computer. It took only a few moments to get to the website, and only five minutes to hack.
    What he found made him tense up. There were multiple reports of people missing, many returning within the week of the supposed 'kidnapping', acting no different than when they disappeared. Oliver scanned the names and wrote them all down. He hummed, glancing around his room before closing the window and shutting the computer, leaving it on the bed. The list of names went in one of his coat pockets as he made his way downstairs and out the front door, running over to Timothy's house. Oliver knocked frantically until he opened. "I need your yearbook."