"Sylver Weston."

Sylver looked up from the book she had been reading. Or, perhaps deciphering was a better word for what she had been doing with the leather-bound journal that lay open on her desk.

Mr. Paige was looking at her from over the rim of his bifocals. "The office needs to see you," he reported, replacing the call phone in its cradle. "Immediately."

"Yes, sir," Sylver said. She closed the journal and jammed it into her messenger along with her sketch book and English homework before slinging it over her shoulder. She was aware of the eyes that followed her as she passed her classmates as she made her way from the back of the classroom.

"Wonder what she did this time," she heard on of her peers mutter to another. She didn't care to search for the source of the voice. It was no secret she had gotten into trouble before, though she wasn't so sure of what it was this time. Sylver ignored the smirks and giggles, accepted the reassuring smile of her best friend, Lizzie Howard, and kept her eyes away from the desk at the corner closest to the door. She knew who she would see sitting there, and she didn't want to meet the cool, indifferent glance of his.

The 13-year-old sighed with relief as the classroom door shut behind her and retreated down the hallway. She halted her celebration when she entered the front office, remembering that she had no idea what she was in for.

"Miss Weston," the front desk lady called as she walked past towards the principal's office. Sylver turned back, not sure wether to be worried or relieved that she wasn't going to her usual destination.

"Yes?" she said as politely as she could muster. If she was in trouble, she hoped being respectful would catch her some slack.

"Your uncles are here to pick you up," the graying lady said with looking away from her computer. She motioned over Sylver's shoulder with her hand. The teenage girl looked over her shoulder, ten times more confused than she was a moment before. As far as she knew, she didn't have any living uncles. And she certainly had never met the two men standing near the doors of the high school. When the men noticed her staring at them, they smiled widely and waved her over. Not seeing any obvious way out of this, Sylver cautiously approached them.

They looked like your average joe. One had blonde streaked hair, a muscular build, and wore a black flannel and khakis. His partner was thinner and at least a head taller. He also had a scar stretching from his ear to the corner of his grin.

"Hello," she said, glad her voice didn't betray her uncertainty.

"Sylver," the blonde man said with a friendly grin. Too friendly, Sylver decided. Almost hungry. "It's good to see you again."

"I'm sorry," she said. "There must be some sort of mistake. My name is Elizabeth Howard."

She wasn't sure when she had decided to lie. Or when she decided to use her best friend's name as her alias.

Quickly, before the men could respond, Sylver turned around and walked back out the office and into the hallway. The lady behind the desk didn't seem to take note of the scene as she continued typing away, but Sylver was positive the men would address her to clear their confusion. That, or they would come after her.

It was clear to Sylver that she couldn't go back to her English class. But she couldn't just stand out here in the hallway for the men to come and find her. Without a true plan, she started walking down the hallway. As she passed the closed doors of the hallway, she lifted a coat from one of the hooks where students hung their backpacks. Slipping it on over her dip-dyed tee, Sylver also nabbed a faded Yankees cap. She took out her hair-band, then put on the baseball hat as her wavy fair hair fell over her shoulders. In addition, she slipped off her reading glasses and set them in an outer pocket of her bag. In a final attempt to change her appearance, Sylver unclipped the strap of her messenger bag and carried it by its handle, stuffing the strap in her coat packet.

The teenager walked quickly towards the girl's bathrooms. There, the men would be unable to follow her. Then again, they could be indifferent to the rules of society and go after her anyways.

What are you doing?, a small voice screamed in the back of her mind. She didn't try to answer it. Mostly because she didn't have an answer. It was like some weird instinct had kicked in and had taken over, forcing her try to change her appearance, to walk past the girl's restrooms, and leave the school through the emergency exit.

Whatever the instinct was, she didn't try to fight it. What else could she do than to follow it? Tell someone two men she had never met before had claimed to be her uncles and tried to kidnap her? Coming from a kid known for her "trouble making imagination", no one would believe that story. They would blame it as an attempt to ditch school.

Now she was running down the side walk. Away from the school. Away from her "uncles". Away from the teachers and principal. Running as fast as she could, sprinting with her messenger bag in hand. Suddenly, she wasn't on the street anymore. In the state of Washington, it wasn't rare to find yourself on a dirt road surrounded by forest on either side, so she didn't panic. She knew exactly where she was.

As she followed the road, now at a slower, less hurried pace, and now that she was out of sight of the high-school, Sylver found herself wishing she had grabbed her bike from the bike stand. Or stopped by her locker to grab her phone. Then she could call Rilla to come pick her up. Or Davis. But in her instinctive over-drive, the obstacle of having to walk all the way home had never occurred to her.

And then it begin to rain, The grey clouds an omen of what was to come.