Page 137 of The Assignment: Room 3

My legs burn as I fight them every step of the way to Flex’shospital room. I stumble over my own feet, but I get up and keep moving. I need to see him with my own eyes.

“Room number.”

“1003.” I frantically scan the hallway, desperate to close the distance between us. I’m terrified that I’m going to wake up any second, and I’ll be back in that room, in the bed, my mind torturing me with what-ifs.

I see his room number, but I’m not prepared when I turn the door handle and walk in.

I drop to my knees, my hand covering my mouth to hold in the scream that’s rising in my throat. Flex is alive. He doesn’t look like himself hooked up to machines, the sterile room filled with ominous beeps and whirs.

“Master.”

Chapter 26

FLEX

Twenty-three years ago

“Felix, can you go to the principal’s office?”

Am I in trouble? It’s a dumb question—I’m always getting into trouble. I like to make my classmates laugh. And apparently, I’m a ‘Casanova,’ according to my teacher.

She looks at me with pity in her eyes. There were hushed whispers at lunch as the teachers congregated in the school library. I thought it was odd, so I tried to eavesdrop. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the sounds being made were ones of fear and sadness.

The walk to the principal’s office seems to take forever, my mind in overdrive. I got caught under the bleachers with Tiffany yesterday, but I didn’t think it was that big a deal. If they’ve called my mom, she’s going to be annoyed. This morning, I was begging my dad to come to my soccer game on Friday, and he forgot to take his presentation to work. Mom had to take it to him. I don’t need to be in their bad books again today.

When I turn the corner, I see my grandmother in tears, one of the school administrators trying to comfort her. Oh crap. I’ve really messed up.

The second she sees me, a new wave of tears well in her eyes. I rush to herside, fear taking root in the pit of my stomach. She pulls me into her arms, her frail body shaking as she sobs against my shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Nana?” When she doesn’t respond, her tears become sobs and evolve into a blood-curdling scream.

A cold dread spreads through every bone in my body as I look to the school staff for help—for answers. What truly terrifies me is the tears welling in their eyes. The principal wraps her arms around the administrator as if it’s the only thing holding them together.

“Someone say something! I’m thinking the worst here, and I don’t even know what that is.”

Nothing good is going to come from any of the grieving adults around me. That’s when it clicks into place. They are grieving. Is it my mom? Or my dad?

“Come into my office, Felix.” The principal, Mrs. Hastings, ushers me into her office, closely followed by my grandmother and other staff members. She gestures for me to take a seat, but I can’t. Adrenaline courses through my veins, so I pace back and forth, the walls closing in on me.

“Just tell me.” My voice is unrecognizable, a crack that I know is going to break me the moment they tell me whatever they’re going to say.

“There was an attack on the World Trade Center this morning.” My pulse starts roaring in my ears.

“What kind of attack? Is everyone okay? Which tower was it? My dad works in World Trade Center One.”

“An aircraft crashed into the first tower, followed by a second aircraft into tower two.”

My mind is racing too fast for me to catch hold of a coherent thought. “My dad. Did he get out?”

A cry that chills me to my core comes from my grandmother. Something so primal it breaks my heart.

“Your father’s building was being evacuated when…” They can’t even look at me.

“When what?”

“When the tower collapsed.” Her normally stern tone is replaced with sorrow. I know what she’s going to say, but I’m not ready to hear it because the moment she says it out loud, it’s true.

“No. No. He got out. I’m sure he got out.”

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