Chapter 203 M.I.A

Chapter 203 M.I.A
Laurette’s POV

“It’s hard enough not knowing what happened and having to rely on my own assumptions…”. I huff, grabbing my phone and staring accusingly at it. “…But why hasn’t he contacted me yet?”

“What, you think something may have gone wrong?”  Frankie asks, munching on chips with her hand deep inside the bag. 

I had explained what happened at Hosea’s last night to her in detail, mainly because it was becoming increasingly hard keeping it to myself. 
Today was a school day, which was highly inconvenient for me seeing as my weekend wasn’t very splendid. We were done with the first half of classes and were currently spending recess in one of the empty classrooms in the admin block. 

“I have no way of knowing”. I blow out an exasperated breath, rubbing my forehead. Hosea wasn’t present at school today, and I fear this was becoming a habit of his (I wonder how he intended to pass the upcoming finals with his reoccurring absenteeism). 

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”  Frankie says, crumpling the now empty bag and shoving it under the desk. I give her a pointed glare, to which she scrunches up her nose. “Although it must be hard not knowing why you were suddenly kicked out like a tramp”. 

“Hard doesn’t even cut it. I’m dying to know who that man is”. I fold my arms across my chest, chewing on my bottom lip as I stare off into the distance. 

The tune for the end of recess and the beginning of fifth period carries loudly throughout the halls, making me tip my head back with a groan. 
I can’t add struggling to listen during classes to the list of things that’s happening to me right now. 

I lean my elbows on the table, giving Frankie a suggestive look. She pauses, cocking a curious brow at me, “What?”

“How about skipping Mrs Anderson?”  I ask, referring to the next class we’re having. 

Frankie sucks her teeth, tilting her head suspiciously at me. “That can’t be the Laurie I know speaking.”  She narrows her eyes at me. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

I press my eyes shut with a whine. She’s right. Even I can’t imagine I’m the one asking to skip classes. “I’m about to lose my damn mind. I can’t even imagine having to deal with Anderson right now.”

“You know I’m all for the extracurriculars, honey”. Frankie starts, grabbing her bag pack and swinging it over her shoulder. “But word is Anderson might give a remake of last week’s test, which I bombed terribly, so sadly, I have to attend.”  She says, giving me an apologetic smile. 

“Ugh.. of course. I don’t even remember how I did on the test.”

“Oh shut up, you know you aced it.”

“Did I?”  My question earns me a glare from Frankie as we both head out of the classroom. 

Sitting through Mrs Anderson’s class is nothing short of the torture that I expected it to be. Especially with how frequently I’m called upon to answer questions. 
The remaining classes fly by, and soon, the familiar tune for the end of classes meets my awaiting ears. 

“Good heavens! That sound is literal music to my ears”. Frankie groans as she approaches my desk, her bag already strapped to her back. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I take my time gathering my things, chewing on my bottom lip as a thought crosses my mind. My chest expands with a deep breath and I meet Frankie’s gaze. “Do you think I should go over to Hosea’s?”

She pauses, momentarily taken aback. “I mean… I don’t see why not. But didn’t you say you wanted to wait? Besides he hasn’t reached out to you yet, what if he isn’t home?”

I consider her words, playing with my fingers on my desk. I’m getting sick of this whole reoccurring disappearance stunt, and thinking about it is increasingly taking a toll on me. 

Heaving a sigh, I shake my head. “Whatever. I’m done worrying about it.”

Frankie presses her lips in a thin line, leaving a pat on my shoulder before helping me gather my things. 

Frankie and I are halfway to the school gate when a sharp movement in my peripheral vision pulls my attention. I look towards the other end of the street, where a black shiny car is parked. One that I recognize faintly. It was the same one that picked me up on the day of Ivy’s party. 

A guy dressed in all black stood beside the vehicle, stretching tattooed on arms on either side of him and letting out a yawn. I was quite familiar with the driver who picked me up on that day, and I was certain that this wasn’t him. 

This bloke was much younger. And clearly more intimidating. The symbol tattooed on the side of his arm led me to believe he was a shadow. 

“Well would you look at that. Now she’s boldly letting her boyfriend’s flunkies pick her up from school too”. Frankie remarks beside me, clearly observing the same thing. 

Dragging my eyes a few feet away from the vehicle, I watch as Ivy and one of her minions make their way over to it. 
The tattooed guy who I assume is the chauffeur for the day, pulls the door open for her. But just before she climbs in, she turns to look across the street, and as though feeling the heat of my gaze, her eyes find mine. 

I don’t look away and neither does she. However, as the vehicle rumbles to life, she is forced to climb into the backseat, but just before the door is shut, I see her lips pull up in what seems to be a scheming smile. 

I may have imagined it, but as the black car zooms off, the image of her smile remains steadfast in my mind. 

Frankie’s voice calling me along pulls me from my thoughts, and soon, we fall into step again. We laugh and bicker about throughout, until the time comes for us to part ways at the street leading to her house. We bid our farewell, leaving me to continue my journey alone. 

As I walk through the empty garage, I find myself reminiscing on the last time Hosea and I were here. I push the thought away to avoid getting sad all over again, and by the time I’m walking through the front door of my house, it is hidden somewhere deep in the back of my mind. 

The sweet aroma of chicken pasta welcomes me home, followed by the sound of Mama moving around in the kitchen. I go to give her a kiss on the cheek before heading to my room, and I almost fall back against the bed before I register the sight in front of me. 

The bags. 

The dresses we got from the clothing store at the complex, placed orderly in the middle of my bed. Stepping closer, I narrow my eyes at what seems to be a note stuck to one of the bags. A familiar handwriting scribbled, 

‘I’LL SEE YOU AT MIDNIGHT. DON’T WAIT UP.’