The Hidden Truth (Newly Edited)

Chapter Two: Bad Moon On The Rise

The sharp chill of the previous night still clung to the air as I walked through the gates of Copper Springs Elementary School. The old stone building rose out of the desert like a relic — sun‑bleached brick, narrow windows, and a weather‑worn sign that had probably been hanging there since before my parents were born. I'd never been a student here; this place belonged to Justice's childhood, not mine. I'd never spent more than a handful of afternoons here, dropping Alex off or picking him up.

But today, the building felt heavier than it ever had — like it was holding its breath, waiting for whatever I was about to uncover. Each step toward the principal's office dragged at me, the weight of the conversation ahead pressing harder with every inch.

Copper Springs was a tiny desert town tucked just outside Lucerne Valley — the kind of place where the wind carried sand across the road in thin, restless sheets and everyone knew everyone else's business. The school sat at the edge of town, surrounded by scrub brush and chain‑link fencing that rattled whenever the Mojave wind picked up. It was familiar only by association, but not comforting. Not today.

I stopped at the receptionist's desk, clenching and unclenching my fists as I tried to steady my breathing. The young woman behind the counter glanced up, her smile polite but practiced — the kind you learn working in a place where parents show up angry more often than not.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Morrison," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "It's urgent."

She nodded toward the heavy wooden door on the right. "One moment, I'll see if—"

Morrison's voice cut through the door. "Send him in."

The receptionist blinked, startled, then gestured for me to go ahead.

The hallway floorboards creaked under my steps — old wood, old building, old ghosts. I pushed the door open.

Mr. Morrison's golden eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and something warmer, something that made my chest tighten. "Well now, I didn't figure I'd see you again, Michael. How's your family doing?"

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. "That's the reason I need to speak to you."

"Oh. I see." His tone shifted instantly, becoming serious. "Come in. Have a seat."

The air inside his office felt heavier than I remembered — thick with the scent of old books, leather, and faint pipe tobacco. The stone walls made the room feel insulated, almost bunker‑like. As he closed the door, the metallic click of the lock echoed louder than it should have.

"What's on your mind, son?" he asked, settling into his chair with a steady, expectant gaze.

I glanced at the walls. They looked... different. Reinforced. The faint hum of voices from the hallway vanished entirely, replaced by an unnatural stillness.

Mr. Morrison followed my gaze and nodded. "Soundproofing. Installed it a few years back. In this line of work, you learn to value privacy — especially for students like your brother."

I swallowed, my respect for him deepening. Copper Springs Elementary might've been small, but Morrison ran it like a fortress.

"So, Michael," he said, leaning back. "What's brought you here?"

I took a breath. "Do you remember the last time you saw Alex?"

His eyes narrowed slightly as he flipped through a notepad.

"Alex... last enrolled here about four years ago."

He paused, tapping the page. "But wait. It says Carol withdrew him."