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Chapter Forty One// Come In

I then rise my head to speak. "I have to talk to him," I declare, rather solemnly with my face serious.

"After school?"

"It will have to be," a long sigh escapes my lips, mostly from the fact Mrs Simpson has re-entered the room with a pile of exam papers, thicker than her hand can hold. In exact unison, a cloud of grumbles and moans rain above the heads of the entire class. Lacy turns back around in her seat.

"He chose a good day to miss," she mumbles.

"Agreed."

***

Once the bell has chimed, indicating the school day is at its tedious end, I am finally free to run out the doors and navigate my way straight to Nathan's front door. The distance to his house is short, however my journey drags on with the help of my pounding headache, controlling my thoughts on how my talk with Nathan will turn out.

"It will be fine," I sceptically reassure myself under my breath, turning the corner in my car to park directly in front of his house. There is only one car on the drive, only one which I know as a fact doesn't belong to Nathan. Chances are, he isn't in. But I have to try...

My knuckles release from the wooden door, seconds after I've knocked. I withdraw my hands to around my back as I stand patiently with my foot tapping against the front step, waiting apprehensively for someone to answer. Then the door opens. Bailey stands there, peeking through the gap between the door and frame. Only her eyes are visible as well as a lock of her long chestnut hair, draped over the side of her face.

"Hi Bailey," I begin, noticing her mouth clammed shut, looking like she isn't going to welcome me hello. Another awkward silence builds between us. "Is Nathan home?" I ask. She just blinks, as if processing my question like I'd asked something totally abnormal and ridiculous. Another silent second passes. Ok, getting really awkward now.

She eventually replies after a couple more moments of thought. "Come in." Her figure disappears from the gap for a slight second then reappears at the door parted wider, now exposing her full body. When I have visited their house last time, she had been thrilled to see me; now I don't feel comfortable inviting myself in. "How are you?"

Her voice is weak and close to a whisper. She doesn't seem very interested about my answer though, by the way she isn't looking at me as we walk through the living room. "I'm fine, need to speak to Nathan though," I tell her, stopping in the centre of the room. Bailey trails her eyes to the top of the stairs.

"You can go up," she says faintly, her lips barely moving. "He might be back soon." I then watch her migrate into the kitchen, her shoulders low and head down. What has happened to make her seem to hate me?

But as I remain staring at the closed door, no answer drifts to mind. So with an intake of air, I make my way up the stairs and across the landing. I know exactly which room is Nathan's. I walk straight in and get a sudden waft of a sweet odour, his cologne scenting the room with a mist of fragrance.

It is rather nice.

The room is arranged identical to how I remember it. With nothing out of place, it is as if his book case is organised in name order. This time, just like the original time I had visited his house, there are no ash trays or traces of smoke in the air. Everything is clean and tidy. In fact, the shelves almost seem bare.

 Sauntering the area of the carpet, I began to hum to pass the time. "My mamma don't like you and she likes everyone," I mouth with the vibration of my lips. "And I never liked to admit that I was wrong."

I giggle at the realisation of where I am and how the song connects. My smile grows with every memory and laugh I have shared with him, every special moment that brought us closer together. Nothing but happy thoughts and treasured memories replay in my mind like a movie projecting the times we loved to be in each other's company.

Nathan and me. Me and Nathan.

But it doesn't last long.

My eyes catch onto an item sitting by the edge of his bed, something I hadn't acknowledged until now. Stepping closer, the rectangular shaped box appears to look more recognisable as a suitcase. With a zip covering the outer side, as well as a tag, it is definitely what it seemed. Puzzlement queries my mind as I kneel down to get a more accurate glimpse..

A cardboard tag is attached to the zip. It reads:

Nathan Johnson

West Side Preparatory Academy

Washington DC

At first I thought my eyes have deceived me. But with another hesitant glance, I know I have read it right. I stand back up onto the balls of my feet unsteadily, the air becoming harder to breathe in. My heart beat slows, my face pale.

"Paige?" A distant call echoes from the door. My heart stops.

Nathan.