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This is odd. I hadn't seen Brennan for the past three days, and it's Thursday now.

When she didn't come to school on Monday, I didn't really pay much attention to it, but as the days went by, it made me curious. She has a habit of ditching school, skipping classes, but somehow still is in high school when they could've easily expelled her. There were a few things that came to mind whenever I had the class I shared with her: no teacher asked where she was, as if they already knew.

Be logical, Daniel, they're probably tired of her behaviour and don't question it anymore.

Brennan had only left my thoughts during classes as I'd put most of my attention on the work I was doing, but the minute that my mind emptied—even for a split second—she popped up. The lingering feeling of worry over why she hadn't been attending school agitated me to the point that it led me to the administration's office, as they were in charge of why students can't attend school on that day.

"I'm sorry, Daniel, but information towards a student's whereabouts are completely classified unless they were to consult with you personally," she explained, her tone bored. I heaved a sigh, nodding and thanking her before heading back towards the cafeteria.

"Why are you worrying over her?" A voice suddenly came up, the deep-set tone causing me to jump. I looked to my side, to find Jack Avery—one of Brennan's friends—leaning against the wall outside of the office, a lollipop in his mouth. "Who are you to Brennan?"

"Does it matter?"

"Obviously," he deadpanned, looking at me now. "Are you the dude that she's been hanging with last weekend? What, you're attached to her now?"

"What's it to you?" I couldn't help but ask, the hostility in his tone had gotten under my nerves. I knew only the basic information about Jack; he's similar to Brennan when it comes to how he presents himself to people around him. He's one of the few students I still question on how they were able to be a senior, with how their grades are and all. Personality wise, he doesn't care for what people think, stick with people he knows, but in most cases, excludes himself from social interactions with strangers.

"As her friend, I have the right to question who she chooses to associate herself with?" A sentence like that caught me by surprise.

"What are you? Her dad?" I scoffed. "Look man, she doesn't seem like such a bad person and is it really that bad for me to worry about her?"

"She doesn't need you to worry about her, alright? I'm not even sure why she chose you when she has other friends she's known longer," I caught him mutter, "whatever, but if you know your place, you'd keep your distance from her—people like you can't be with people like us." With one last glare, he turned away and headed straight out of the school building.

People like you can't be with people like us. His words weren't new to me. I've heard phrases like that from people around me when they warned me about people like Jack and Brennan. Stereotypes created by the society we've grown to learn from—how good students shouldn't associate with bad students. I used to think that that was how humans worked; we were supposed to be with people that thought the same as us, shared similar interests and were the same both inside and out.

The longer I thought about it, I found myself thinking about how I felt when I was with Brennan. She brought a sense of adrenaline to my life, admittedly, I enjoyed her presence and I've never felt so alive when I was with her. Even if she almost got me arrested, it was the experience that mattered.

"Daniel," Corbyn approached me at the end of the day, pulling out of my thoughts. "You've been off lately, what's up?"

"Nothing," I mumbled, shaking my head.

"Is it Brennan? You're a worrisome kind of guy and she hasn't been coming to school for the past few days," he explained. "She's probably out getting in some trouble and hoping her trust fund parents will pull her out." I'm not sure what had gotten into me then, but how Corbyn had said it caused something to twitch within me—anger.

"You know nothing about her," I snapped, facing him, my brows pulled in anger.

"Woah, Daniel," he chuckled nervously, noticing my hostile attitude. "I'm just saying– it's no rumor that she's living a luxurious life and taking advantage of it by getting into trouble."

"How would you know that?"

"Why else would she give zero shits about school unless her parents funded for it?" He rose a brow. "And why are you getting so worked up over this?" I couldn't argue though, no matter how angry and annoyed I felt at that moment because I didn't know what to say either.

"Forget it," I mumbled, taking larger strides and headed straight home, leaving a dumbfounded Corbyn behind. I frustratedly ran a hand through my hair, rethinking the argument. "What's wrong with you?" I asked myself angrily. "You can't get worked up over something that could be true."

Why do you care? The question echoed in my head as I arrived home. Part of me wanted to say that I don't care, and it wasn't Corbyn's place to assume, but maybe I do care.

I just don't know why. 

I'm sort of in the calmer week of this stressful part of my semester, so here's an update

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I'm sort of in the calmer week of this stressful part of my semester, so here's an update.

Don't forget to vote, comment and share. Ilysm :)x

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