The Secrets of Hickory

14

My mother, Max, and Tessa were going through all of my and Jordan's old school things, putting together a memorial for the school for a past student. I watched from the couch as Tessa, my mom, and Max rifled through old school things, memories of Jordan's and my time at Hickory High. They laughed and reminisced, holding up trophies and faded t-shirts, the artifacts of bygone triumphs and inside jokes.

"Look at this!" Max said, pulling out a heavy, dust-covered yearbook from the bottom of a box. "Junior year," he announced, flipping it open to a random page.

My mom leaned in beside Tessa, chuckling softly. "Oh, how young we all looked," she mused, pointing at a picture of the school debate team.

I couldn't help but smile, even as my eyes were drawn to a stack of photographs that Tessa was carefully examining. "What's that you've found?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

"Just some old photos," Tessa replied, her voice tinged with the weight of memories. She handed one to me, and my heart skipped a beat.

It was a candid shot from a school dance, Jordan and I in the midst of laughter, completely absorbed in our own world. But it wasn't our youthful joy that caught my attention—it was the figure in the background. Damien.

He stood apart from the celebration, his posture rigid, his eyes intensely fixed on us. Even through the sepia tones of the old photograph, the intensity of his stare was disconcerting.

Max peered over my shoulder. "I always thought it was odd, the way he seemed to hover around you two," he muttered, echoing my sudden unease.

Tessa looked at the photo, her brow creasing. "I remember him... always so quiet and watchful. It was... unsettling."

My mom reached out, touching the edge of the photograph. "I never liked the way he looked at you, Analia," she said, her voice low. "It was as if he was always there, just on the edge of things."

I stared at the photo, seeing it with new eyes. Damien's presence wasn't just a footnote in my high school years; it was a shadow that had been cast over every memory I held dear.

I folded the photograph, tucking it away for safekeeping. "I need to keep this," I told them, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Now in the solitude of my room I was able to think clearly, Max's words from the night I came home started to feel suffocating. He said Jordan and I were too wrapped up in each other, and now I could fully see it. This picture just posed as a big flashing sign that things happened around us, but we never participated.

That night I fell asleep thinking about all the times I thought it had just been Jordan and I, could other people have been around at the time, maybe other people that might have had nefarious plans for either one of us, maybe someone that wanted to be in our circle but we never let anyone new in. the questions were endless, but sleep was calling and I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.