Tick. Tock.
The steady rhythm of a clock echoed through the small gray room. A black, one-way mirror stared from the far wall, watching. In the center sat a metal table with two chairs—one occupied by a young boy.
He was filthy. Dirt and grime clung to his skin, accumulated from days spent surviving on the streets. His clothes were torn and tight in places, loose in others, stretched oddly by the sudden growth spurts of youth left unchecked.
Tick. Tock. Tick.
Across from him sat a large man in a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up and tie slightly loosened. His expression was taut with irritation, his mouth moving rapidly—but no sound came out. His words were muted, distant, like a memory underwater.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
BANG. A heavy hand slammed onto the metal table, the sound sharp and sudden. The boy flinched, his wide eyes darting toward the noise.
"Now, kid," the man snapped, his voice gruff and thick with a Chicago accent, "let me go over this again. Where's your mother? Your father? Is there anyone we can call? Do you know where you live?"
The boy didn't answer. He simply turned back to the clock, watching the seconds crawl by.
A voice, urgent and trembling, echoed from the hallway. "Where is he? Où est-il? Where is my little Aiden?!"
A woman bustled into the room—a small, older lady with a stern face and kind eyes. She clutched a handbag tightly to her chest as she pushed past the officer and rushed to the boy's side.
The man at the table stood up, confused. "And who might you be?"
"I'm Mrs. Palpanini," she said firmly. "Aiden Wells' legal guardian. And I've come for him."
She knelt beside the boy, inspecting him with gentle hands. "Oh, mon petit, I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you hurt? Are you alright?"
"You're saying this kid is under your care?" the man asked, waving his hand toward the silent boy.
"Oui," she replied with cold certainty. "And why do you care?" She glared at the man with open disdain, shielding Aiden from his gaze.
—
What had once been a distant memory hit like a stone tossed into still water, shattering the surface of Aiden's thoughts as he sat in his second class. The ticking of the wall clock jolted him back into the present. Tears slipped down his cheeks before he even realized they were falling.
BBBBBBIIIIINNGG. The bell rang, loud and final. The period was over.
"Aiden, are you alright?" Mr. Mason asked from his desk, peering over his glasses.
Aiden wiped his face quickly, gave a small nod, and gathered his things. Without a word, he slipped out the door.
Waiting in the hall was Jessica, bouncing on the balls of her feet with a bright smile. "Hey, wha—"
"We're not doing that study crap, are we?" Aiden cut in, voice flat. "If we are, I'm not going."
Jessica blinked. "Ah—Ah-no. That's not what I wanted to ask."
"Then what?" Aiden asked, stepping around a group of students.
Jessica hustled in front of him, blocking his path. Despite her smaller frame, she held her arms out to stop him. "Listen to me, Aiden. Angela and I were just wondering... what are you doing this weekend?"
"Nothing. What do you want?" he muttered, brushing her arms aside and continuing down the hallway.
She caught up quickly and tugged his sleeve. "There's a party. In the woods. Eric's DJing. There'll be tents, music, dancing... You know, something to do."
Aiden snorted. "A Black guy like me doesn't go into the woods at night. That's how people get killed in movies. And I don't know any of y'all that well anyway."
Jessica didn't give up. "So get to know us. We're not that bad. Just give it a chance."
"Yeah—get to know us." Angela appeared beside them, tall and composed. She offered a calm smile and nodded once at Aiden.
"Hi, Angela," Jessica said, giving her a quick hug.
Angela returned it silently before looking at Aiden with a quiet warmth.
Jessica stepped forward again. "Look, you don't have to come if you don't want to. But most of us just go to hang out and dance. Not like there's anything better to do in this dead-end town anyway."
"Jessica," Angela chided gently, crossing her index fingers in mock scolding.
BBBBBBIIIIINNGG. The bell rang again, signaling the end of the passing period.
"Just think about it, alright?" Jessica called as she jogged off to class. "It's not like you've got anything better to do."
Angela didn't say a word—she just squeezed Aiden's arm briefly before turning down another hallway.
Aiden stood there for a moment, exhaling a long breath. He took a second to compose himself, then finally walked toward his next class, stepping in just as the final bell echoed through the halls.