CALM

006.

006. 

ELIAS CHADWICK'S PARENTS seemed like Greek myths passed down from generation to generation. Their lives consisted of glory and fame. Their names being upheld like they were gods that walked among mortals. But gods didn't die, so how did the famous Chadwicks die?

Papa, Elias' maternal grandfather, had been the one to tell Elias that his parents had died. The details weren't specific, but the way Grandma would have to take an Ativan every time they boarded a flight or how Papa's handkerchief became so soaked in sweat then he would need to bring multiple in his carry-on only allowed Elias, at the age of seven, to discover that his parents had died in a plane crash three years prior.

Much of his mortality, he didn't cry about them nor miss them because he had never really met them before. They were just stories to him, but the way others expected to react to it had given him numerous free passes.

Like now, as he sat in Dean Pinciotti's office and explained to him how the anniversary of his parent's death had left him feeling unusual and more agitated than normal. The Dean, with his growing widow's peak, nodded along, told him that he understood what he was going through and that he would require him to speak with one of the counselors by the end of the week.

He then asked him to bring Imogen, who was waiting outside of the office, so he could speak to her. He opened the door. But before he opened the door he stopped him. Elias' could feel his blood rush past his ears, warning him: run, run, run. But he stayed and turned to face the dean.

"Elias."

"Yes, sir."

"You and Oliver are on the same basketball team. Am I correct?"

"We are," he said, his voice holding the same tone as before. He wouldn't allow even the slightest suspicious slip to Dean Pinciotti. He wasn't going to jail.

"Has he been going to any practices this week?"

He shook his head.

The Dean huffed and leaned further back in his chair. "This boy," he murmured under his breath.

Elias shot his eyes towards the picture of him and his family on his desk. The presumed Miss Pinciotti and a little boy stuck between them with a basketball cradled in his arms. Elias gulped.

"You're dismissed, Mr. Chadwick. Call in Imogen on your way out or me?"

"Yes, sir." He opened the door and made a quick hook to the right—where the waiting area was. He spotted Imogen slumped over her phone, occupied but whatever was on it. He walked to her and stood there waiting for her to notice him. When that failed, he coughed.

She shot her head up, an obvious look of shock on her face. "What?" she said, her voice strained.

Elias frowned and tried to peer down on her phone. Before she clicked her power button, he caught a glimpse of a blue, limp hand. "D-dean Pinciotti is ready for you," he trailed.

She got up from the chair and started to walk towards the office, but Elias caught her by the arm. "What's wrong? What was on your phone?"

She gave a grim laugh; one that drained the color from his face. "Someone just found Oliver Wyngard's body."