The silence in the principal’s office was no longer heavy; it was suffocating. It was the kind of silence that precedes a landslide—quiet, yet vibrating with the force of the destruction about to follow.

Mateo looked like he was about to vomit. The “Golden Boy” of the soccer team was gone. In his place was a terrified boy whose privilege had finally hit a wall it couldn’t climb over.
The Mystery Messenger

“Who sent the message, Valeria?” my mother asked, her voice trembling as she grabbed my phone.

I couldn’t speak. I just pointed to the screen. My mother read the text aloud: “Your baby was not the first.”

The room went still again. Aunt Patricia’s face turned from pale to a sickly grey.

Suddenly, the door to the office opened again. A girl walked in. She was a senior, someone I barely knew—Lucia, the quiet girl who sat in the back of the library. She was holding a stack of old journals.