The Empty Desk
On my first day at Westbridge Academy, I learned three things.
First, the old clock in the main hallway was always five minutes slow.
Second, everyone at Westbridge knew everyone else’s business.
And third—
There was a boy sitting in the back of my classroom whom nobody else seemed to notice.
His name was Noah.
At least, that’s what he told me.
It was raining when I arrived that morning, the kind of rain that turned the school courtyard silver and made the ivy-covered buildings look older than they really were.
Westbridge Academy wasn’t the kind of school people simply attended.
People fought to get in.
Scholarships. Entrance exams. Interviews. Recommendations.
I’d spent two years working toward my place here.
So when I walked through the enormous front doors with my new uniform, backpack hanging from one shoulder, and absolutely no idea where Room 3B was, I was determined not to look lost.
I lasted approximately forty seconds.
“Room 3B?”
I stopped a girl carrying a stack of textbooks.
She pointed down the corridor.
“Second floor. Turn left after the trophy case.”
“Thanks.”
I followed her directions and found the classroom just before the bell rang.
Inside, conversations filled the room.
Students were laughing, comparing schedules, complaining about teachers.
I looked for an empty seat.
There was one near the window.
Perfect.
I walked toward it.
Then I noticed the boy sitting directly behind me.
Dark hair.
Gray hoodie underneath his uniform jacket.
A book open on his desk.
He looked up.
For some reason, he smiled.
“You’re new.”
I blinked.
“So are you.”
His smile widened.
“No.”
Before I could ask what he meant, the teacher entered.
“Everyone, seats.”
I sat down.
The boy behind me went back to his book.
The teacher placed a stack of papers on her desk.
“Welcome back, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I’m Mrs. Carter. This year, I’ll be teaching history.”
She began taking attendance.
Names echoed across the room.
“Amelia?”
“Here.”
“Daniel?”
“Here.”
“Lucas?”
“Here.”
One by one.
Then she reached the letter N.
“Nathan Brooks?”
“Here.”
“Nora Bennett?”
“Here.”
She paused.
Then continued.
Noah didn’t move.
I glanced behind me.
He was still reading.
I raised my hand.
“Ma’am?”
Mrs. Carter looked at me.
“Yes?”
“You missed Noah.”
The classroom went strangely quiet.
Mrs. Carter frowned.
“Noah?”
I pointed behind me.
“He’s right there.”
Every student turned.
The boy slowly closed his book.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Mrs. Carter looked at me with an expression I couldn’t understand.
“There isn’t a Noah in this class.”
A few students laughed.
I didn’t.
I turned around.
The boy was staring at me.
His expression had changed.
He looked almost frightened.
“You see me,” he whispered.
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He stood.
His chair scraped against the floor.
But nobody reacted.
Not even when he walked past the other students.
Not even when he stopped beside my desk.
I could see him.
Clearly.
Everyone else looked straight through him.
He leaned closer.
“Don’t tell them my name.”
The bell rang.
And when I looked up again—
He was gone.
His chair was empty.
But his book was still sitting on the desk.
