The news came to Westfield Youth Hall on the first weekend of November. Athena was called in by a teacher after class one day, to which she was terrified. There was no reason why a student should called in if they were not in trouble. But yet they called for Athena, and Athena would never break a rule.

She came back to the dormitory thirty minutes later with a sheet of paper pressed tightly between her fingers and a distant disposition. She sat down on her bed and said nothing. She did not speak, she did not move, and she did not breathe. We all stared at her in apprehension, but she did not seem to notice. The only thing I noticed were the crystal teardrops filling her lower eyelid, getting caught on her long lashes. An hour later she stood up and left the room again. I began to follow her outside, but an older girl's glare told me to sit back down. Athena was my closest friend, but she did not want even me to learn the secrets that paper held.

Greer was in our dormitory that day. She was sitting next to me, and we had been making small talk. Although she slept across the hall, during the day she often found herself wandering towards the voices of others. At least she told us she was only wandering— I knew that she was too proud to admit she was lonely. When Athena left the room again, I noticed Greer's eyes were staring intensely at me, like she was awaiting my reaction. I had been staring at my oldest friend for an hour straight, but Greer was staring at me. I wondered if she felt compassion or concern for dear Athena.

Athena was not present at dinner that night. Her absence left a hole in my stomach, and I could not eat anything. That visceral feeling had me worried; she could not be in trouble. I could not afford to lose her.

"You know she's alright," Greer said to me. Her voice cut through the foggy silence that surrounded my thoughts, slightly drawing me back into reality.

"I don't know that," I responded. My own voice felt like a million miles away. It was not my voice. "I don't know anything."

"I haven't gotten in trouble yet," she said casually. I think I glared at her a little bit, begging her to not make the conversation about herself, but she took it as an opportunity to continue, "Nobody cared when I ran off for a week with no explanation. Athena's never broken a rule in her life. If they won't get me in trouble, then they sure won't get her either. Or you, really. You could break whatever rules you wanted, and nobody would say anything."

"I don't break rules." My voice was quiet and hostile. I did not want to admit that Greer was right— Athena's disappearance was not a punishment.

"That's unfortunate," Greer shrugged, "That would make this far more entertaining."

"This is entertaining to you?" I snapped, "Seeing your friends vanish? No wonder you let everyone leave for Maverick."

"Athena always hated me. She was your friend, not mine." Greer picked at her nails as she told me this. She truly did not care.

"So you like seeing your enemies get taken away. That's real kind of you," I rolled my eyes bitterly. It had been established: Greer was heartless.

"No, this isn't entertaining at all! I meant Westfield," she gasped, "You and Athena both have such low opinions of me. At this point, a teacher approached our table and beckoned me away. I felt a weight drop in my body— whatever Athena was in for, I was as well. She led me to the hallway, and shut the doors to the dining hall. We were in utter silence.

"Athena was accepted into the Northern Eden Artist Academy," the teacher said, "Do you know what that is?"

"I do not," I said honestly.

"It is a highly prestigious program that accepts only twenty students a year. They will be trained in all forms of art styles under the most qualified teachers in the country. To get in is an extremely important accomplishment. Your friend was very talented," the teacher explained.

"She is talented," I corrected, "And yes, yes I knew that. What does this mean."

"Athena is leaving Westfield this evening. She must be in Heatherburg early tomorrow morning to catch a bus."

I froze, and so did my surroundings. For a few seconds, the entire world stopped turning, and the air stood static. Athena was leaving. "Where is she now? Can I say goodbye?"

"She told me not to let you see her," the teacher sighed, clearly feeling a little bit guilt. Of course, she wasn't guilty enough to allow me to see my closest friend before her departure.

"What do you mean?"

"She said that if she saw you, she knew she would not go," the teacher explained. "If she saw you, she knew that she would not have the strength to leave you. I'm sorry, but it's not my decision."

I nodded, biting my lip while tears began to flood my eyes. The teacher smiled softly, and reentered the dining hall. I did not. Instead I began to wander down the hallways, and right out the front doors of Westfield Youth Hall. Up at the highest story window, I saw a blonde ponytail swish by, and my heart wrenched. It was her. It was the last glimpse I ever saw of my Athena, although I didn't know it yet. I walked West, away from the town, away from the youth hall, and I began to cry.

 It was only me and Greer now.