A/N: Surprise - I'm back for chapter two! Enjoy and maybe review? Aw, whatever, as long as you like it! Also, I set a genre - drama. This'll be a dramatic story (that will probably fit into a lot of other categories, too)! But if you like drama, action, etc., read on!

Natural Theory

I know I just told you that our school is a school divided.

But not today.

Mondays are not generally accepted by society - I mean, they're tiring, everyone's cranky, it's just a bad situation. But this Monday is incomparably worse than most.

Alfred Jones is gone.

Is he dead? I don't know; no one knows.

The party Natalia was talking about last week - Gilbert Beilschmidt's party... okay, hold on.

Alfred Jones and Gilbert Beilschmidt are possibly two of the most popular guys in the junior class. They've always been. It's Alfred and Gilbert and Mathias Køhler. The popular kids, all from different groups. So naturally, Alfred made Gilbert's guest list.

More than twenty people have stepped up and said that they saw Alfred at Gilbert's party on Friday. I believe them. We all do. This isn't the issue. Of course Alfred was at that party.

But no one knows where he went afterward.

Also, Gilbert Beilschmidt is in a ton of trouble - what with having alcohol at his party and all. Normally no one would know about this, but since Alfred went missing, a few people said they had seen him drinking at the party. And where else would he have gotten the drinks? We are right, of course, and Gilbert deserves this.

Gilbert isn't at school today. But Mathias is, and he's beside himself with worry, telling anyone who will listen that this is terrible, so very forfærdelig, as he says.

Stupid Dane. Lamenting is not going to help.

Though, mass hysteria is what I was talking about, yes? The teachers are keeping tabs on everyone. They think we're responsible, which is ridiculous. Even if one of us offed a classmate, why would anyone kill or kidnap Alfred?

Right now, the majority of the school is still trying to gather information, make accusations, decide what's happening.

We're supposed to be in Study Hall. No one is silent.

I'll update you on information once I know more.

I'm in the middle of reading a section in my chemistry textbook when Natalia interrupts me. Normally I'd tell her to screw off, but today, I want to talk to her. She went to Gilbert's party, after all, and she might know something.

"So."

Natalia sits down next to me. The chemistry teacher is at her desk. She told us today could be a free period. Everyone is discussing Alfred.

"I saw Alfred," she says. "I saw him after the party, too."

"Why didn't you tell the police?"

She looks puzzled. "I did."

"What was he doing, then?" I ask, shutting my textbook and shoving it into my bag.

"Have you ever been to the Beilschmidt's house?"

I think back. Gilbert and I were kind of friends when we were younger, but as time passed, we learned to hate each other. "Yes."

She nods. "Right. So you know how they have one of those backyards that leads into the woods? If you travel a few hundred feet through the trees and such, there's this steep drop - this cliff - that plummets to a river."

"Right," I say. "I know."

Natalia taps her pen against the desk. "Alright. I saw Alfred stumbling through the woods as I left. He was drunk and it was dark, so isn't it a possibility that he might have fallen down the drop and died?"

"Certainly."

"Well, I reported all this to the police."

"Huh. What did they say?"

She shrugs. "They didn't tell me. I wonder if they searched that area."

A dreadful thought hits me. "What if he fell into the river?"

"Into it?" Natalia questions, raising an eyebrow.

"Couldn't the water have swept his body away?"

She kind of smiles. "Oh, so you're one of those Natural Theory guys."

"What Natural Theory guys?" I grunt, looking at her.

"You haven't been hearing the rumors? It's not even lunchtime and the school has already divided into three groups. The Natural Theory people believe what you just said - that Alfred fell down the river and either drowned or was swept away. Other people think someone killed him. And even more believe that Alfred is still alive somewhere, and that he got kidnapped or lost or something." Natalia seems to think about this. "I don't know."

I sigh. "I guess we'll find out sooner or later."

When I show up for lunch, Katyusha is the only one at the table. She's sitting in her normal spot, eating an apple and reading a college application guide. I remember that she is a twelfth grader, a senior, and next year, she'll be gone. I must admit, I'll miss her crying and her comforting presence.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, sitting down.

She looks up. "Everyone else - they're angry with each other. They're arguing over what happened to Alfred. What do you think?"

I try to respond with thought. This is one of those tricky questions, like asking someone's religion or political party, because you don't want to offend them if you have different beliefs. "I don't know," I finally say. "It definitely seems possible that Alfred could have fallen down the river in the Beilschmidt's yard."

"I was hoping you'd say that." She bookmarks her page and closes the college application book. "That's what Raivis thinks, too. Toris insists that he's still alive, wandering around somewhere. Eduard says he was murdered." Katyusha shudders. "It's so terrible, Ivan! Terrible!"

"Stop that," I say. "You sound like Mathias. Did you go to Gilbert's party?"

"No. But why didn't you? Why didn't you take up Natalia's offer?"

I tear open a bag of dried fruit. "How do you I know I didn't go?"

"Ah, nevermind!" Katyusha exclaims, her eyes wide. "Just forget it. I'm assuming you didn't go."

"Right..." I mutter. "You're acting strangely. Did you-"

But then the strangest things happens. Alfred walks right into the cafeteria and sits down at our table next to Katyusha, his finger marking his spot in some novel that appears to be French. This is bizarre enough by itself - I'd never thought Alfred worldly enough to manage to learn two languages - but then Alfred greets Katyusha and asks how she's doing. She smiles.

"Hi, Matthew. I'm fine."

It makes sense. That isn't Alfred. It's Matthew Williams. Alfred and Matthew aren't related, but they look like identical twins. You can only tell the difference when they open their mouths - Matthew is quiet, soft-spoken, nearly invisible; Alfred is as noisy and discordant as Gilbert combined with a herd of elephants. And while Alfred's accent is pure American with high usage of the words 'dude' and 'totally,' Matthew has this pleasant French-Canadian tone and says "Eh?" a lot.

I see Matthew nearly every day.

Yet today, his striking similarities to Alfred are too much. I take out my own book - a Russian study on Greek Mythology - and pretend to read it while Matthew and Katyusha discuss what kind of flowers they will bring to Alfred's funeral.