Meet Me Where the Oak Tree Grows novel Chapter 6

I’d been waiting for ages. That seat stayed empty, like it was holding its breath. Until our homeroom teacher broke the silence in the classroom with a choked-up voice.

"Listen up, everyone. Please be extra careful when crossing the street. This morning, Angie, our classmate, was hit by a truck that ran a red light. The driver took off, and Angie didn’t make it."

Everyone turned to look at me in a heartbeat. I just sat there, frozen, my mind too foggy to process anything. When reality finally hit, I felt the tears already streaming down my face.

We hadn’t celebrated. We hadn’t even had a few good days together. I hadn’t given him those balloons he loved. I hadn’t even told him he was my only true friend. How did everything slip away so fast?

When his grandma came to school to pack up his things, her eyes looked swollen and red, hands shaking like leaves. I helped her load his stuff onto the cart. She was sobbing, trembling as she dug into her pocket and placed two warm hotdogs in my hand.

"Angie said... he wanted to give his best friend two hotdogs today. He was going on about it last night, asked me to remind him in the morning. You're a good kid. Thank you for looking after Angie all this time. In this life, he didn’t have much luck. He left before me."

I stood on the curb, watching her frail figure struggle with the cart, her clothes billowing in the wind like a boat on the verge of capsizing. Balloons tied to the handlebars swayed in the air as if Angie was waving goodbye.

Ms. Costa put down the test paper, her initial shock giving way to a steady calm. "Sir, please step outside. We’re in the middle of class."

Her firm tone must’ve hit a sore spot. He swung his arm, sending everything on the podium crashing to the floor. His finger nearly jabbed Ms. Costa's forehead. "How dare you tell me to leave? Who do you think you are? Do you really think you're that important?"

He raised his hand, threatening. Ms. Costa was usually so composed, but she’s barely in her twenties. Faced with such a brute, how could she not be scared? Her chest heaved with fear, fingers gripping the desk edge so tightly they turned white.