This is the most boring and pointless course I’ve ever done in my life. I glance at my watch: 11:00 a.m.
Fuck.
My god . . . has time completely stopped?
I can’t sit here for another seven hours. I will literally die a long and painful death.
I exhale and flick my pen against my forehead as I try to focus.
I wonder what Grumps is doing. I slide my phone out of my pocket onto my lap, and I text her under the table.
Hi Babe,
What’s doing?
I wait for her reply . . .
The teacher goes on and on some more, and I keep glancing at my phone.
Why isn’t she answering?
I text her again.
Are you okay?
I wait for her reply . . .
I shuffle around in my chair. Why isn’t she answering?
An hour passes. Still nothing.
I get a vision of all the drunk assholes in the hostel, and I begin to sweat.
What if something has happened?
I text her again.
Grumps,
I’m getting worried.
Text me!
I stare at my phone under the table as I will it to ring.
Hayden . . . call me, fuck it.
“Mr. Miles,” the teacher calls.
I glance up.
“Distracting you, am I?”
Yes, you are, actually.
“Phone away. Now.”
I fake a smile. “Sorry.” I slide my phone back into my pocket, and I stare at the blackboard.
This course is pointless. Who cares about rules of alcohol consumption?
Not me, that’s for sure.
Finally, it’s lunch break, and I rush from the classroom and dig out my phone.
No missed calls.
No texts.
I march to the cafeteria as I dial Hayden’s number.
It rings out.
“Where the hell is she?”
I dial her number again . . . still no answer. I hang up and call her again.
No answer.
That’s it—I text her.
Call me RIGHT NOW!
I grab a sandwich and sit at the table and eat alone. I’m beginning to sweat.
What if something has happened to her?
I go over all the possible scenarios in my head.
She could be asleep . . . she could be getting harassed by idiots. She could be getting attacked as she walks to the shops. Maybe she’s getting drugged and raped right now.
Fuck.
I call her again . . . no answer.
I’ve got better things to do than worry about a missing girlfriend all fucking day.
Oh my god . . . she’s missing.
I call her again.
Five o’clock, and I dive out of the cab as it pulls up in front of the hostel.
I’m frantic.
I’ve had the worst day of my life. Hayden is missing, probably dead in a ditch.