Novel-novel oleh Haven

The minute I walked in, I knew.Not that anyone said anything.That's not the Pinegate way.It was in the quiet of the hall a beat too early. In the manner three kids near the lockers shifted their heads like they weren't shifting their heads. In the manner someone pretended to cough, just loud enough to cover a laugh.You get good at reading that kind of thing when you learn to disappear as a child.I kept walking. Kept my face blank. Shoulders down. Hands in the pocket of my hoodie like I wasn't noticing the static crawling up my spine.My boots echoed a bit too much on the floor.Locker doors crashed like punctuation marks.I didn't glance at anyone.Because I already knew.Someone had seen something.Or thought they had.Or wanted to.It didn't matter which.In Pinegate, rumor and reality aren't distinguishable once people begin looking.And they were looking.Not with curiosity.Not with interest.But with that knife-edged silence people use when they smell blood but haven't yet

I didn’t plan to go back to the quarry.I just... ended up there.Feet on autopilot, backpack slung half-open, sketchbook wedged between a crumpled sandwich and an unopened soda can. I hadn’t eaten lunch. Hadn’t wanted to. Not after the looks in the hallway. Not after the way Tyler Crane kept popping up like a warning.The walk out past the edge of town felt quieter today. The bugs weren’t as loud. The heat pressed down, but the air smelt cleaner. Like rain had washed some of the rot off Pinegate’s skin.I didn’t expect to see him.But when I stepped past the trees and the quarry opened up in front of me, he was there.Sitting on the ledge.Same spot I’d climbed out of days ago, like he’d claimed it since.Eli had his knees pulled up, arms resting over them. His head was down, like maybe he didn’t hear me. Like maybe he wasn’t there to be seen.I almost turned around.Almost.But something in his posture stopped me. Not just tired. Not just quiet.He looked... alone.Not the dramatic

Before school let out, the sky was this yellowish type of ill.This colour is before a storm. Like someone drowned the whole town in dishwater and dreams. The clouds hung low and heavy, and the wind smelt of metal and wet pavement.I didn't go home. I didn't want to walk into that house with its empty TV hum and my dad's sour breath filling the hall. I didn't want to pretend that I had homework. Or that anything there made sense.So I walked. Past the high school. Past the fire station. Down through the streets where the houses leaned sideways like tired old men.My boots thudded the pavement with no rhythm. I circled the long way.The long way through town always involved passing by the VFW, the shuttered movie theatre, and the now Sunday-only ice cream stand. It involved porch swing side glances and the sporadic "You skipping again, Thatcher?" from someone who didn't care anyway; I ignored them.The heat had not yet broken. It hung heavy with the weight of impending rain, heavy and

I knew something was wrong the second I walked in. Ms Harland never smiled unless someone brought her a Starbucks or she was about to ruin someone’s week. Today she was grinning like she’d swallowed a secret. “Take your seats, folks,” she said. “We’re pairing off for the group project.” There it was. I slid into my usual desk near the middle... just enough to not be noticed, not enough to be called on. She clicked on the overhead projector, and the list lit up the whiteboard. Names. Pairs. No arguing. I scanned for mine. There it was. Caleb Thatcher & Eli McDowell. My stomach dropped like the floor had shifted under me. I didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just leaned back in my chair and pretended it didn’t mean anything. Eli walked in a second later, carrying that same spiral notebook and a cheap Bic pen. He glanced at the board, saw our names, and nothing. No reaction. He just walked past me and dropped into the seat to my right without a word. I kept my eyes forward. Ms

I walked into school during second period like it was nothing. Head down. Hoodie up. Just another ghost in a hallway full of sleepwalkers. Mr Halpern didn’t even look up from his attendance sheet when I slipped into the back of history class. The lights buzzed like a hive above us, and the air smelt like pencil shavings and sweat. Someone had carved SUCK IT into the desk I landed in. Pretty sure it’d been there since ninth grade. I didn't look across the room. Not at first. But I felt him. Like static. Like a storm just outside the frame. Then I looked. He was there. Back row. Two desks from the window. Arm draped over his chair like he owned it, like he hadn’t disappeared from this town without a word four years ago and then reappeared like a damn fever dream. Eli McDowell. He wasn’t looking at me. Which meant he probably was. He had a pencil in his hand but wasn’t writing. Just tapping the eraser against his knee, slow and steady, like a clock ticking in reverse. His ey

I stayed in the water. Didn’t move toward the edge and didn’t swim away either. Just floated there, arms loose at my sides, legs kicking slowly like I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay above the surface or not. Eli hadn’t moved. He was still crouched near the ridge, elbows resting on his knees, eyes on me like he was trying to place a memory that wouldn’t settle right. He looked like someone who hadn’t unpacked all his bags yet... or maybe someone who never planned to. The sun caught the side of his jaw. He had faint stubble now. A shadow that made him look older than he should’ve. His collar was buttoned to the top. Same damn way he wore it in church when we were kids. "You always come out here just to stare at nothing?" I asked. He shrugged. "I could ask you the same." His voice hadn’t changed much. Still smooth and careful. Like he tasted every word before letting it out. The kind of tone that made you feel like you were being sized up even if he was saying nothing at all. "A