What Happened to Charlie?

What Happened to Charlie?

          It was the last time I saw him, Charlie. The last time I saw him shut his locker. The last time I saw him walk home with his friend Greg.

          Maybe it was a lie, I wasn't really his friend. I was just someone he barely knew, I was just someone simply infatuated by him.

           I like Charlie, a lot. So much that I could already say I love him. Maybe I do, but I was too afraid myself.

         He doesn't know me though, to him I was simply just another girl who goes to the same school as he does.

           I knew things about Charlie, but not so much. I knew that he preferred soccer over basketball and that he didn't have a favorite color. Basic things like that. I didn't know the in's, just the out's. The things you know when you have a kind of obsession with someone.

          My mind buzzed about him. I thought about him a lot, and I thought about him too much. Too much that I forgot where I was.

          "Do you?" The man asked again. His face was blank, it looked serious. It was the scary kind of serious. The shadow of his hat covered his eyes. He was wearing a light grey suit that had the middle buttoned and a black tie resting inside.

          I looked up slowly. Everything felt slow except for my heartbeat. The man across the table, who's name I learned was Mr. Wrens, had his hands resting on the table, interlocked with each other.

         Apparently, a few officers and detectives were at school. They questioned a few students  –some close to him, some random– about what happened to him and about his whereabouts. I was one of the randomly picked.

          Charlie's parents grew worried when Charlie never came back last night, Tuesday. They called the police and alarmed them about the missing person. They questioned about him and assumed later on that he was kidnapped or something like that. Now they were interrogating us students.

          We were in the principal's office, along with the principal herself, who was standing by the corner with a worried look on her face and her arms crossed over her chest.

           I sat nervously on the seat in front of the principal's desk with Mr. Wrens sitting at the chair at the other side of the table.

          My hands were shaking on top of my lap where it was hidden underneath the table. I didn't do anything, but I was scared.

         Mr. Wrens waited for my answer, but I knew he was growing impatient. I opened my trembling lips slightly, before shutting it close again into a straight line again.

          He raised both his eyebrows in anticipation. He and I both knew that he didn't have much time. Mr. Wrens took his black hat off and sighed. His hair was grey and white, he was an aged man. I saw his eyes  –which was green– as he looked back at me.

               He asked again, "Do you know what happened to Charlie?"