Salty

Twenty-Eight | This Fruit Pizza is Trash

Twenty-Eight | Ollie

The seat beside the annoying girl—the one who couldn't cut uniform pieces of anything to save her life—remained open. The clock on the wall matched the one on my watch. It was three minutes until eight, and that's when the door would shut until the semester testing was complete.

Where the hell is she?

I got her home at a decent time last night. Not only had I given Sloan the night off to study for finals, but I allowed her to study upstairs without distractions as I closed the kitchen for the night. This wasn't like her at all. Except for the green pepper dilemma, Sloan was punctual. In fact, she arrived everywhere way too early to avoid exactly this. I knew I should have talked her into staying in the city last night. She'd been home for almost a week now, and her commute was absolutely unnecessary.

With an anxious knee bobbing, I met the eyes of the student that always sat beside Sloan in class. She, too, turned and looked to the open seat with necessary worry. Another glance at the clock and the girl opened her purse, pulled out her phone, and sent off a quick text.

Smart, I thought. Although, that probably wouldn't look good if I immediately did the same. With every tick of the clock, I watched Sloan's available time fall away until there was nothing left. It was now eight, and I had to stand to shut the door of the classroom.

"Begin." I winced with the word, hearing multiple pens click and papers being shuffled.

Before the door was completely shut, I performed a quick scan of the hallway, looking it up and down both ways and finding it completely void of students or staff. Prayers were being sent telepathically, hoping that she was simply late. This was the first class of the day, meaning she'd only missed one of her finals. Taking my seat, I watched the students frantically writing, stressing, and some in absolute panic. The one student who never did those things, because she was that good when testing, was the only one missing.

Was she ill? Hurt? Was her car broken down somewhere?

Every scenario was playing in my head. It had been weeks since I wanted a cigarette this bad. Thankfully, I kept toothpicks in the top drawer of my desk for such an emergency. I hadn't even needed these as of late. After tossing the drawer open, I was given the opportunity to view the phone that had been placed inside to stop any distractions for my students. A notification of a text message flashed across the screen, and I couldn't get the phone into my hands fast enough.

New Message: Mom's Cell:
The barn door let loose again. Think you could come by this weekend and fix it? It is my birthday, after all. Bring Sloan with you. Kit won't stop talking about her.

That was not the message I was looking for, and it unnecessarily added to my anxiety for the day. I deleted it, knowing my ass wasn't going anywhere near it, and selected Sloan's name. I sent a message asking where she was before tossing it angrily back into the drawer. That move caused every student in the room's gaze to lift from their test to their teacher, and I didn't even care. For the first time since the semester started, I was being forced to write a zero beside Sloan Smith's name. Something was wrong.

I scanned the halls between every class, never catching a glimpse of the girl I was looking for. Sloan was nowhere on the premises, and when the workday finally ended, I couldn't escape the classroom fast enough. I'd called Sloan's phone three times on the way to the car alone, and every single time it amounted to nothing more to hearing her voice via voicemail. If she didn't answer my texts, she sure as hell wasn't about to answer a voicemail.

We were both set to work the dinner shift tonight. That was the first place I'd checked, followed by my apartment. She had no way of getting in there without me, and I knew she wouldn't be there, anyway. My only backup for the restaurant was Sloan. That left no one to run that kitchen if I were to go looking for her tonight. I'd need to leave after.