Page 45 of Savage Scream

I have double Media with Lexi this morning, and I don’t even bother with the work, my mind too preoccupied with everything that’s happened over the last few days. Especially last night.

She doesn’t smile when she sees me. But still sits next to me and works quietly.

That is, until she can’t seem to hold in her thoughts anymore.

“Are you still leaving next week?”

Sighing, I consider just walking out of the classroom. I can’t be bothered having an argument with the girl Jared used to be head over heels for, but I get the feeling she’d just follow me out and pester me, anyway.

Turning, I give her a nod, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re going to break his heart,” she whisper-yells, clearly angry. “Have you even noticed howinto youhe is?”

Maybe I should just tell her. A partial truth, at least.

Sighing, I take out my phone and write my message before showing her.

‘If I don’t leave with Travis, then he’s likely to get killed because of the foster family he’s living with. They are bad people, and he deserves a better life.’

As Lexi reads over my words, her glare softens to worry, and her blue eyes dart up to mine.

“It’s that serious?” she asks, and I nod before tapping out a response.

‘I like it here. I like the Rogans, and even this stuffy school. Hell, even you seem ok. But it’s not safe. Probably not for any of you, but definitely not for Travis. He’s stuck in the middle of something bad, and if I can’t get him to leave, then he’s gonna end up dead.’

“He didn’t turn up to community service yesterday.” Lexi frowns, shaking her head. “He’s rarely a no show. And he usually messages me if he can’t make it for some reason. He’s ok, right?”

I frown this time. I haven’t spoken to him since he came to the Rogans’ for dinner on Sunday night. That’s only a couple of days. Not even. So surely nothing has happened.

Moving my attention to my phone, I open the Instagram app and the messages.

@hush_tiny_dancer

Hey Trav. Why weren’t you at community service yesterday?

I stare at my phone, waiting for a response, but it never comes.

Not while I’m staring at my phone in Media. Not at recess when Jared holds my hand and assures me that my brother is ok, even though he doesn’t know. And not in English when I shrug off Jared’s attempts at playing Hangman with me again.

By lunch time, I’m beyond worried, and I storm through the school passages to Cynthia’s office.

I don’t bother telling the secretary that I’m there to see the principal. I just storm past her and shove the office door open.

Cynthia is on the phone, and when she sees me, she sighs and quickly ends the call.

“What is it about my foster children barging in here like they own the place?” she mutters, standing from her desk to round it and stand before me.

I hold my phone up, surprising her, and she reads my words.

‘Why didn’t Travis turn up to community service yesterday?’

Frowning, Cynthia glances at me past my phone.

“He called in sick. In fact, he must still be unwell because he’s not coming in today either.”

I turn my gaze back to my phone, putting my words into text before holding it back up.

‘Did Travis make the call?’

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