Griffin took his mother’s advice and gave Charlie time. The day after their night on the back road, she even let Griffin stay home from school. He’s out sick – lovesick, she joked while pantomiming a phone call to the school’s office that morning.

It was welcome humor to fill the space where he expected to find rage or disappointment. His mother had surprised him. He hoped Charlie would too.

He turned his phone off for the entirety of his lovesick staycation – he figured Charlie would text him at some point wondering where he was, and he couldn’t handle the mix of anxiety and anticipation he knew he’d feel at the notification popping up.

He didn’t do much of anything that day. And that felt right.

He turned his phone back on the next morning. Just one message from Charlie: Hope I’ll see you again soon.

He didn’t respond. When he got to school, he tried to keep a low profile. He’d have to see Charlie eventually – after all, they were supposed to wrap-up their project together during English class – but he wanted to keep their interactions to a minimum. 

He wasn’t sure he could make it through a howdy, partner more than once.

He didn’t have to. Not only did he manage to avoid Charlie the entire day, but when he got to English Charlie wasn’t there. And a few minutes into the start of class, he still hadn’t shown. Griffin was alone in the back of the classroom, anxious over Charlie’s whereabouts. 

He wondered if Charlie was just giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was a bitter pill, and he felt some shame at his own behavior the day prior. He supposed a fair punishment would be to have to finish their presentation on his own.

He opened his laptop, enviously eyeing the other pairs of students hunched over their own computers together. Everyone was having fun, or at least making conversation. Griffin had only silence and guilt to keep him company.

Just as he opened a window to load their presentation, a notification popped up from his messaging app. It was from Charlie – timed almost perfectly for the exact moment that his absence would sink in for Griffin. It was a bit sinister, Griffin noted to himself with a mischievous grin. He opened the message.

Hey, I’m not in today – not sure if you are either. If so, sorry to leave you hanging. 

An ellipsis mark popped up in the corner of their messages to indicate that Charlie was typing more.

Don’t worry about the presentation. I polished it up, I’ll show you later. For now, try some light reading.

A file came in after the message. Moonsword_adaptation.pdf.

He clicked it open. The document was 105-pages. The first one read: Moonsword by Charlie Hess (with inspiration from Griffin Gago). 

He couldn’t contain the smile on his face. It was a film script – an adaptation of the first book Griffin had shared with him – and it was like being handed a glass of cold water after a long run. 

Griffin wasn’t sure when he had worked on the script – or what he was saying-without-saying by sharing it now – but he could hardly steady his hand as he scrolled to the second page.

EXT. DARK SIDE OF THE MOON – NIGHT (IT ALWAYS IS)

He let out a snicker, and then covered his mouth reflexively. A few kids shot him looks of suspicion. Mrs. Wilcox looked up from her desk at the front of the room, only to give a half-smile and a head nod – like she was offering sympathy for his abandonment. He wondered if Charlie had gotten a similar look from her the day before.

He read on.