What are you waiting for?

A foot of mine sways back and forth, while my heart beats reach my throat.

My palms constantly twitch with sweat as I stand at the door frame. I try to hold the golden door knob in front of me, but it constantly slip.

Ms Bragge has been out almost an hour because of some errands, and she may not be back for another half an hour.

This was much easier in my head.

My eyes wander to the clock at top of the door's head, just as my palm collides the knob again and the door swings open.
The heels of my shoes click on the floor, as I spin around to survey the attic.

Everything is exactly the same; though, it still has lingering shadows: a stained glass panel colouring the streaming sunlight, the curtailed portraits at every nook and cranny, and the loose floorboard.

If only I can find that loose floorboard...

I look to the left and see something that I had almost forgotten of.

Isabelle's painting.

I press my thumbs into the pockets of my jeans, as I look back at my twin of different generation. A thin layer of dust coats her painting, and I have too look away before albums of memories cease my sight.

There is another painting next to Isabelle, but it's veiled with a white cloth. I have a strong inclination that this masked one may be Henry.

I move forward.

This time, however, my foot doesn't fall into the floorboard; its tip only circles around it.

The board is tilted to the left, rather than being entirely straight.

Looks like journals are not the only things that Dylan keeps tilted.

I first debated whether I should look here or at Dylan's room. Later, I came to the conclusion that that's just wrong. Though, I still don't know why it took almost an entire night to decide that.

I have never been religious, nor were my parents. Dad was a Protestant, while Mum was Jewish.
We only went to church for special occasions, rather than every Sunday.

They only taught my siblings and me to follow the moral aspect of religion, and to respect other ones.

Technically, reading my brother's letter isn't very moral as well, but I need to know what's going on with him.

What if that's the reason why Mary and Richard... I'll think of that later.

I remove the board from its position, and put my hand inside it.

My hand just keeps hitting the insides of the board.

I guess I was wrong at thinking that Dylan might have left something here...

Just as I pull my hand out, my finger scratch against paper-like: soft and yet hard. I grab it before I lose it again.

It's a letter!

I fall back on the floor as I pull the letter out. I tear off the top of the envelop and the rest falls itself. The letter is from somewhere in Luton, Bedfordshire. If I remember correctly, Bedfordshire is a county near London, my own city.

I hold the letter in between my fingers, and pray for nobody to see me. It only has a one line.

23 December, 2008

I thought that you were my friend, Dylan.

Love,
M. M

Great! Just one question...
Who is M. M?

My left hand finds its way to the back of my neck, as I try to remember anyone with those initials. Several images pass through my eyes but all are blurry and unfocused.

M.M... Come on, Lindsey... Think...

My left hand escapes from its previous position to rubbing my forehead.

The wristwatch of mine comes into view and it tells me that it's time to go, otherwise I'm going to be late for school.

I leave the board loose and the envelop still straying there, with the letter still in my hand. My feet pound towards my room.

I keep thinking of those initials, about whose could they be. Only a certain witch comes into my mind as I try to find my school bag.

I grimace at that possibility.

My mind keeps teleporting back to those initials, even as I trek towards the Main Entrance. I glide past a specific room, and my feet stop on their own.

My eyes wander throughout the open room, before I decide to enter it.

It's exactly the same since I have last left it: a bed with no folds, a wardrobe as tall as London Tower and a curved full-length mirror.

I open the drawer of the dressing table to  view a full ensemble of watches of almost every brand.

Dylan was always a watch fan...

I put the letter into the drawer, and slide it back to its place.

"Lindsey, look here, mate." Allison snaps her fingers in front of me.

I shake my head in swift sideway nods, only resulting in my blurring out my vision a bit. The foggy settings come back to clarity, as Allison pops her head from the side.

"Are you all right?" she asks.

Thoughts of Dylan's letter kept charging in throughout the day. I tried to push them away, but they keep coming back.

I don't even remember how I got into the Chemistry laboratory right now. The last time we were here was when I kept calling Allison labby in my head and when she first introduced me to Ethan.

Speaking of Ethan...

I open my mouth in answer to Allison looking at me with a tilted head, but Mr Henley bangs his hands on his table.

All of us students adjust ourselves against the wooden stools and marbles table slabs.

The chemicals and burners are already set out in front of us.

Mr Henley writes the formula for the compound we have to make on the whiteboard behind him. The silver ring in his hand refracts light from the open window.

I lower my voice and arch my back a bit,
"Where's Ethan? I haven't seen him since lunch."

Allison catches my gesture and scratches her upper lip to avoid any unwanted glances.
"I don't know. Probably attending his classes."

She stops whispering, looks around, and says again,
"Why are you asking?"

I put my book in a vertical manner and say,
"I always bump into him on my way to classes. Haven't seen him today, that's why."

Or maybe, I have been too lost in thought to pay attention to the boy.
Let's assume that that isn't the case.

Allison takes something out of her pockets, and my eyes widen at it.

They're Ethan's glasses.

Before I ask anything, she answers for me:
"Ethan always gives me his glasses before his sports class. He wears contacts at that time."

She looks around and furrows her brows at the spectacles.
"Though, I wonder why he hasn't taken back his glasses yet. His class was supposed to finish after fifth period. They're like a part of him."

Mr Henley turns around, adjusts his glasses just as I straighten myself up and Allison puts the glasses back into her pockets. He opens his mouth, but a knock on the door interrupts him.

"Everyone's interrupting me, these days," he mutters as he walks crosses his table.

Mr Henley opens the door to see Mr Alam standing at the frame.

"Mr Alam, what's the matter?"

"May I have a word with you, outside?" Mr Alam inquires before glancing towards the rest of the word.

Mr Henley nods as he steps out of the classroom with him, leaving everyone to start whispering among themselves.

Allison leans in next to me to see through the window on my side.The window views the corridor, and all I can see is Mr Alam telling Mr Henley something, and the latter rubbing his non-existent beard.

What is going on?

Both teachers stop talking. Mr Alam remains in the corridor with folded arms while Mr Henley returns to the classroom. He looks at the rows of students, craning his neck around everywhere till his eyes settle on Allison and me.

That's when I notice that even Eric isn't in class either.

"Ms Crimsom and Ms Knightley, please come outside with us?" he calls out.

Allison and I look at each other as me shrug off our seats. Mr Henley stops us with his hand and gestures to our bags.

"Take them with you."

Blinking a few times, Allison and I take our bags from the floor and leave the class to their endless muttering. Mr Henley rubs his nose bridge before booming,

"Do you have to cause such a ruckus? You're not even getting paid for that!"

I look back and blink a few times because of the now silent class. Mr Alam notices us standing with blank expressions as he says,

"Please accompany me to the Head Teacher's office. Mr Ingram and Mr Flectre are already there."

__________________________

Hello everybody! I hope y'all are doing good. :)

Earlier this week, I made a family tree for all the Knightleys to help me out with the dates and all.

Would you believe if I told you that the 'directly' related generations are EXACTLY five? ;)

As you can see above, my inner assassin's creed fangirl is showing. Hehe.

Music: Assassin's Creed: Rogue
              Cityscape

Hm, why was there such an emphasis on Dylan being a watch fan. I do so wonder.

Anyways, I'm going to ask a bit lighter question this week:

What's your opinion about Allison and Lindsey's friendship? Yea or nay?

P. S.
Head Teacher: Principal

Deputy Head Teacher: Vice Principal

I know y'all are pretty smart, but having that lil' reminder above won't hurt anybody, right :)

Also, today is druidrose's birthday!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MB!
THE STREET SISTAS WOVE(emphasis on WOVE) YA'!!!

P. S. Wattpad wouldn't let me add the dedication last night, & I know that it isn't your 357th birthday but yeah XD

Avoid weird typos!

Love,
MS Zame