The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the bedroom walls. Rowan stirred beneath the blankets, reluctant to rise, letting the light warm her face as her alarm buzzed beside her. She groaned and turned it off with a groggy swipe.
Summer was close. School was almost over. Just a few more days of dragging herself through routines she'd grown tired of—early mornings, rushed homework, crowded hallways. The thought of sleeping in and escaping the pressures of final exams made getting out of bed a little easier.
She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her bedroom was a cozy chaos—walls pinned with posters of bands she barely listened to anymore, a shelf overflowing with books, and the usual clutter of notebooks and clothes scattered across the floor. As she stretched and stood, her gaze landed on a photo tacked to her mirror: her and her best friend Lily at the spring dance, laughing mid-spin.
Lily hadn't answered her texts in two days.
Rowan pulled on a hoodie over her tee and jeans, her thoughts drifting as she got ready. She wasn't a morning person—none of them were, really, except maybe her mom. She ran her fingers through her ponytail and glanced at the clock. Time to go.
Downstairs, the clinking of plates and soft voices meant breakfast was ready. Her mom stood at the stove, flipping pancakes, dressed in her usual work attire. She was a nurse at the local clinic, always tired but somehow always smiling. Her dad sat at the table, still in pajama pants, sipping coffee while scrolling through his phone—he worked from home as a software developer, something with code and long Zoom calls. Her older brother, Ellis, leaned against the doorway, yawning like a bear coming out of hibernation.
"Morning, kiddo," her dad greeted without looking up.
"Morning," Rowan said, sliding into a chair.
"Eat up," her mom added. "Got a long day today."
"You always have a long day," Ellis mumbled.
Their mom smirked. "That's adulthood, sweetheart."
As she set a plate down in front of Rowan, she nodded toward the muted TV in the corner. "Did you hear about the disappearances? Another one last night."
Her dad waved a hand. "People always vanish this time of year. Probably just traveling. Summer plans."
Ellis raised an eyebrow. "Or they got abducted by aliens. You know, pop out of existence—poof."
Their mom chuckled, shaking her head. "Don't say things like that. You'll scare your sister."
Rowan gave a half-smile. She appreciated the lightness of it all, but something sat wrong in her chest. Her eyes flicked to the news segment showing missing persons. One of the photos—it was someone from school. A friend. Not close, but still someone she'd shared lunch periods and inside jokes with.
She barely touched her pancakes after that.
Ellis seemed to notice, but didn't say anything until they were at the door.
"You good?" he asked as she slipped on her backpack.
She hesitated, then nodded toward the TV. "I knew one of them. From the news."
He frowned, the joke gone from his face. "That sucks. People've been vanishing all over the place. It's been slow, but… yeah. Creepy."
She nodded.
"Don't go disappearing too, alright?" he said as she stepped out, flashing a lopsided grin.
"Yeah, yeah," she said over her shoulder, trying not to let his words linger.
The walk to school was familiar, the neighborhood peaceful. But today, there was something... still about it. The usual morning chorus of barking dogs was absent. No joggers. No neighbors waving from their lawns. It was subtle, but noticeable.
Then she saw him—a man at the edge of his driveway, standing completely still, staring into the woods.
Just standing.
She followed his gaze but saw nothing. A patch of trees, still dark with morning shadow. When she looked back—he was gone.
No footsteps. No sound. Just empty space.
She pressed forward, brushing it off, convincing herself she'd just missed him turning away.
---
The school bell rang loud and shrill, dragging everyone into motion. Rowan made her way to the gym, where the sounds of sneakers and shouting students echoed through the building.
In the locker room, girls chattered and laughed. Rowan changed quietly, mind still wrapped around the morning news and the man in the woods. As she shut her locker, voices behind her spiked in volume.
A group of girls had cornered someone—shy, small, and trying not to cry. The bullies laughed, tossed a few cruel words, then strutted out like nothing happened. Whispers followed in their wake, soft and uncertain.
Rowan lingered by her locker, watching the victim retreat into herself. Her name was Marcy Tran. Quiet, always with a book, the kind of girl teachers liked but other students forgot. Except for those girls—Tessa, Brielle, and Nikki. They never forgot the quiet ones.
Tessa was the ringleader. Beautiful in a way that drew attention, sharp-tongued, and always flanked by her shadows. Brielle echoed everything she said, and Nikki laughed at every jab. Rowan didn't hate them—hate was too strong—but she watched them like someone watching fire. Pretty, but dangerous.
Rowan sighed quietly and moved to the gym.
---
Out in the gym, the teacher barked instructions. Boys on the right. Girls on the left. Rows formed.
Rowan stood near the back, eyes flicking between the coach and the group of girls now at the front—Tessa and her crew, still laughing.
Behind Rowan, other students whispered, but the words were too faint to catch.
Her gaze wandered across the gym, unfocused.
A boy noticed. He smiled at her, warm and a little surprised.
His name was Callum Reid. Played on the soccer team, but never the loudest in the room. He was the kind of boy people liked—easy to talk to, polite, and soft-spoken. Rowan had barely spoken more than five words to him in the past year.
She blinked and looked away.
He thinks I was looking at him.
She sighed inwardly.
Not you.