--Six time award winning novel by June D. Silver-
"Hidden truths are unspoken lies"
As a straight A student, Finnley never got himself into trouble. He goes to school, runs track, hangs out with his two best friends Cristian and Emma and studies; a...
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- Tuesday, May 10th, 2016 -
– 3,5 months after the disappearance –
It's dark outside and since it's way past midnight, the streets are nearly deserted. I'm on my way home after hanging out with Felix. We just had a casual night of gaming and watching series on Netflix.
Normally I wouldn't be out this late at night but since my parents are gone again, I figured I could make another exception to their rules about curfew. Besides, I haven't gotten a headache today and that's worth celebrating a bit.
Throughout the night, Stan texted me a lot. He is now in a full on frenzy about me riding home with Nathan and the fact that I was almost completely in a different world doesn't seem to make him think I couldn't really do anything about that. Hell, I don't even remember how I got in Nathan's car in the first place.
Then Stan went on, calling me up until the point Felix got annoyed and asked me to either answer or put my damn phone off. He seemed the have the feeling I was going to leave for Stan again, which I didn't.
I can't help but wonder for the entire walk home, why Stan kept texting I wasn't honest with him. That he couldn't trust me. I haven't done anything to fuck up his trust in me. I have been honest about everything, except the notes from Finnley, which he couldn't possibly know about since I keep them hidden in my room.
When I'm finally home I'm pretty done with thinking about Stan's weird behaviour, about Felix being my only friend, or about Finnley in general, because all of those thoughts make me sad and depressed.
That is until I entered the house, to find a new envelope on the floor. I hurriedly pick it up and rip it open, to reveal the usual 45 cents and a note.
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"Build a sandcastle? What?" I cock a brow, staring at the note, thinking about the note, noticing the time on the note briefly. What does he mean by building a sandcastle? I have to dig pretty deep before the memory of one of the first things I remember doing with him comes to mind; playing in the playground. Mom always reminds me how little Finnley told me I was building my sandcastle in the wrong way; it was doomed to collapse. Apparently, I looked at him in question before he decided to help me. Four-year-old Finnley was already a little know-it-all. But we had built an awesome sandcastle for a couple of four-year-olds – that got destroyed by older kids. But I was thankful for his help anyway.
