When Monday rolled round, Callas was looking forward to seeing Henry again, she would finally have someone to sit through and survive yet another one of Mr Hanson's lessons with. That, and it would mean that he wasn't the teenager brought into the hospital with the delirious and violent man on Thursday. She still blamed herself, even if he wasn't hurt, that it could have been him that was injured and brought to hospital. Henry still wasn't answering his phone and Callas couldn't help but think of the worst, her leg bounced up and down with nerves as she looked out the Jeep window as Reed drove her to school.

"Cal?" Reed spoke up, glancing to the side at her.

But she didn't respond. Her mind bounced around with the possible thoughts of Henry being hurt. He was her first friend in La Push, and she cared about him, even if it had only been about a week since they had first met. If anything was to happen to Henry, Callas felt like it was her duty to do something about it, she should have made him stay a little while longer on Thursday and have Reed drop him back off. If she had known about the man that they found in Forks before Henry walked out of the house, maybe things would have been a bit different.

"Cal?"

Again, nothing. But then again, the more she thought about it, what difference would it have really made? Henry was probably fine. She should have just taken his word for it that it was just food poisoning, she was clearly over thinking things. Henry would have told her if things weren't okay. As far as she knew he didn't keep any secrets from her. Unless Mr Blanchard told him to keep quiet. She didn't know Henry's father, she hadn't even met him before, but—

"Callas!" He spoke louder.

"Hmm?" Callas hummed out as she bit her lower lip. Her right arm was resting on the small arm rest on the door, her fingers messing with her lips as her jaw tightened.

"Why do you look like you're going to implode?"

"Hmm?"

"Did something happen?"

"Hmm?"

He knew she wasn't listening. "Is it Embry? Is he the problem?"

"What?" Callas's attention was drawn from the window.

She wouldn't like admit that she wasn't actually paying much attention to what Reed was talking about, she couldn't help it. But the sudden name drop of Embry managed to finally engage her in a normal—hopefully normal—conversation. If it were any other time, Reed would have made a comment on how quickly she responded after hearing Embry's name, but seeing the distress on Callas's face, he thought against it. Instead, he let out a small sigh and opened his mouth to repeat himself:

"I asked if you were okay. You look like you're going to explode into a thousand mini Callas pieces or something."

"Oh." Callas rubbed her forehead. "It's, uh, it's Henry."

"You guys have a fight or something?"

Callas shook her head. "No, but he hasn't really been answering my texts. I mean, he does, but he avoids certain topics."

"Maybe he has a crush on you," Reed suggested. "He might not want to be obvious about it."

"Reed," Callas started with the roll of her eyes. "I very much doubt that."

"Why?"

"He doesn't act like he would like me that way. Besides, what does our History project have anything to do with Henry possibly having a crush on me?"

Reed shrugged. "Boys are weird like that."

"Henry doesn't have a crush on me..."

"Do you want him to?"

"I don't think so..."

Reed looked at her. "Do you have a crush on him?"

"Who are you? A twelve-year-old girl?"

"No," Reed responded. "I just want to know if you like anyone."

Callas squinted her eyes at him. "Why—?" She dragged out.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Boys are weird like that." Reed grinned to himself.

"No—" Callas dragged. "You're just weird like that."

"Hey, I'm driving you to school. Be nice."

"You call this driving?"

"Okay, what is actually wrong? You're not normally like this."

Callas's jaw tightened as she huffed and looked out the window once more. "I don't know..."

Reed knew his next question was going to be slightly risky, considering he didn't know the full extent to what she experienced when they happened, so he asked in a quiet hesitant voice, "Do you still have the dreams?"

She sighed. "Yeah..." Callas mumbled quietly.

"Has this got anything to do with Jacob coming over to seal your window?"

"Look, I don't know, I'm still trying to figure things out myself."

"Okay, okay." He nodded, letting go of the conversation. "Did you wash Embry's jumper?"

Callas froze and groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "No..."

"You're unbelievable." He snorted a laugh as he pulled into the school parking lot. "I'll put it in the wash when I get home at lunch today."

"No, I'll do it." She shook her head.

"Something tells me that you don't actually want to give it back." Reed smirked.

"I do..." She mumbled, picking up her bag and opening the door. "When it stops smelling like him," her voice was barely over a whisper, she doubted Reed heard her. But then again, he did have freakishly good hearing. She quickly closed the Jeep door and, without looking at Reed, she walked up the school steps and inside where she was met with a warm breeze.

Callas let out a sigh to herself as she walked towards the reception area. When she walked in, Margaret, the reception lady—who Callas finally learned the name of—lifted her head, what was odd was that she didn't have any make-up on her face. There was no lipstick staining her teeth. There was no smile on her face. Callas fixed the strap of her bag on her shoulder and walked in, closing the door behind her as Margaret motioned for her to close it as she stood up.

"Are you okay?" Callas asked hesitantly as Margaret walked around the counter and held her arms out to Callas, pulling her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered. "I promised I'd be strong."

"Why? Was it Milo? Did you finally have to put him down?" Callas wasn't sure if Margaret was upset about one of her many cats who happened to be ill.

"No." She shook her head. "It's Henry." Callas froze, her body stilled and she held her breath. "There was news of a man and a boy who ended up in hospital." Callas shook her head and pushed herself away from Margaret.

"It wasn't Henry." She shook her head again.

"Callas..." Margaret gave her a pitiful look, stepping closer again.

"No."

"How do you know that it's not him?" Margaret asked with a pitiful expression.

"How do you know that it was? Did Mr Blanchard call in?" Callas rushed, beginning to think it of the worst.

Margaret shook her head. "No, but—"

"Then it's not our Henry." She shook her head stubbornly. "And until Mr Blanchard or my brother tells you or me otherwise, Henry is at home with food poisoning, and that's all."

Margaret nodded, wanting to believe it all more than Callas. There was a silence between the two of them before the bell rang. Margaret walked around the desk to her side and sighed, obviously hoping that Callas was right, as she picked up a few papers and patted them down together neatly. With the shifting of her bag, Callas looked away from Margaret and quickly left the office heading to History without Henry by her side. It was a weird feeling, not having the blond glued to her side talking to her endlessly—just like Friday, when he wasn't in.

Callas slowly moved to the back of the class, sitting in her seat waiting for Mr Hanson to start his lesson. Her head turned to look at Henry's empty seat, a small sigh escaped her sore lips before she took out her notepad and pen, her eyes darting to the clock on the wall—the minute hand ticked back and forth between the same two numbers, obviously broken. She leaned back on her chair as Mr Hanson droned on and on about something that happened in the past, she couldn't concentrate on a single thing he was saying—but she wasn't the only one. No one seemed to be paying attention as Mr Hanson began to show a video from the previous week, obviously forgetting that he had already shown it, and no one made a point to tell him otherwise.

The bell, signalling the end of the lesson, sounded louder and longer than usual as Callas packed up. She would have had a free with Henry, but he wasn't in, so she made her way to the library alone to go read her book. She tried to weave in and out of the crowds, not bothering to get out of their way if they were about to bump into her. When she opened the door to leave the building, the warmth of the sun felt nice against her skin until she made her way into the library and the cold air from the fan blew in her direction. The library was empty, just like the week before, and Callas made her way up the stairs to the second floor to go sit on one of the sofas.

Her bag dropped on the floor next to her and she plopped herself down on one of the relatively comfortable sofas, retrieving her book from her bag slowly. Her body felt strangely heavy—even though she kept trying to convince herself that Henry was fine, that he was at home and not in hospital texting her. When she opened her book, a warm body sat down next to her. Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned her head to see Seth grinning to himself as he placed his bag on the low table in front of them, getting out messy sheets and his notepad, spreading them across the table.

"You didn't want to work on a desk?" Callas asked.

He shook his head. "I wanted to sit by you."

"Okay—"

"I'll be quiet, I promise." He looked at her with a grin. Callas felt as though she couldn't say no to him. She playfully rolled her eyes and continued reading her book.

Seth picked up his notepad and leaned back on the sofa, his left leg bent on the low table to use as a desk. Callas wasn't sure how practical he was being as he started to write something down—and when Callas said something, she meant it, his handwriting was almost impossible to understand. Every so often, Callas could feel Seth accidentally nudge her, she wasn't sure why he had sat so close to her when the sofa could easy fit four people on it comfortably and another sofa was placed opposite them. She raised an eyebrow and continued to read, hearing Seth mumble quotes to himself after reading them out of his text book.

"Seth?" Callas whispered.

Seth continued to stare at his work as he responded, "Yeah?"

"You said you'd be quiet."

"Sorry, Cal." He grinned sheepishly as they both continued with their own thing.

All Callas had to do was get through a lesson of Biology, a free, then a lunch and her last lesson of English before she was able to leave school and go back home, maybe sleep off the weird feeling she was experiencing, because she sure as hell doubted she could take another day of feeling the way she did. Seth ripped the few sheets he had written on out of his book and placed them in a folder before getting more work out and another text book, it made her wonder if it was all due for his next lessons, or if he just wanted to get it done quickly. Whatever the answer was, she probably wasn't going to get it honestly from Seth.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she quickly took it out to see a text, but it wasn't from Henry like she hoped it was. Reed sent her two texts with an hour's difference:

Reed:
Hope you're feeling better, Cal.

She definitely wasn't. She looked at the other one and it felt as though her heart lodged in her throat.