Like every other high school, the students of Ravenwood Academy know nothing more beyond the world of their own teenage lives -- a world of classes to pass, social reputations to live up to, and dirty little secrets to keep.
But when strange dangero...
Dad and I will pick you up at 8. Be ready by then. Don't sleep too late. Love you, Max. 😘❤️
Max slid his phone into his jacket pocket, looking back up at the foliage of green and orange across the road, the way the sun bathed the forest in its golden light, a rare sight these days. He received the message last night from his mom, and agreed to meet his parents for breakfast that Saturday morning. Well, he had to agree—what choice did he have? He was fifteen. He couldn't say no to his parents.
So he stood on the porch of the boys' dormitory building, waiting for a pale gold Toyota Land Cruiser to appear somewhere down the road.
In the meantime, Max kept his earbuds on, listening to a Hands Like Houses album Lyn had introduced him to. A little wake-me-up-because-I-might-have-slept-a-little-too-late-last-night-playing-video-games-with-my-friends on a sunny Saturday morning.
He let out a sigh. Lyn had told them about it, how his dad might want him to leave their friend group.
"I have a feeling he's going to talk to you about it," Lyn had said, as they made their way to the dorms last Monday afternoon.
It made sense, though. He and his family usually met up on Saturdays and Sundays for lunch. Why the sudden change of schedule? And why was it only going to be the three of them meeting—he and his mom and his dad—while his parents hired a babysitter for half the day to watch over his little six-year-old sister Brienne?
Max glanced over to his left. Just then, a pale gold shape came to view, driving down the narrow road. Max pulled his earbuds out, yanked the end of the wire out of the jack. He rolled the wire into a near-tangled mess, and quickly stuffed it into his jeans pocket.
The SUV came to a halt at the curb, and Max took this as his cue to move. With his hands in his pockets, he walked down the steps, down the concrete path, over to the Land Cruiser.
And he realized, as he placed a hand on the door handle, that for the first time since they came to Oregon, he wasn't as excited to meet his parents as he usually was. More like anxious, to be precise.
With a quiet sigh, Max opened the door, slipped in, and, faking a smile that would hopefully pass off as genuine, said, " 'Morning, Mom. 'Morning, Dad."
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Sander drummed his fingers on the wooden table, eyes glancing over to the front door of The Raven's Nest every now and then. He looked at his watch—8:19.
Sander shut his eyes for a moment, one elbow on the table, a hand holding his head up. He could have slept a few minutes in, he knew that. But he didn't regret it—he wanted to be on time for his breakfast with Talya. What he regretted, though, was not saying no to Damien's weekly invitation to Friday Paranoid Android Night. He, Damien, Jack, and Max spent last night playing the game all the way to 1:00 A.M. Not as horribly late as the other nights they'd had, but still, too late, another bad decision. Jack, having not felt the time slipping past his fingers, even freaked out a bit, knowing he had to get up early for practice the next day (or, at 1:00 A.M., it was no longer the next day but a few hours later).
