Eli's fingers trembled as he held the letter. The paper was thin and delicate with age, but the words—every one of them—pierced through the years like a blade.
"If something happens to me… it wasn't an accident. Please don't believe what they'll say. You always knew me best, Eli. And if I'm gone… it means I got too close to the truth. I was scared to tell you everything. But look in my locker. Back of the shelf, behind the panel. You'll understand. I love you. And I'm sorry."
— J
Eli sat there for what felt like hours, the silence broken only by the erratic thud of his heart. Jesse had written this before he died. Which meant—
"God," Eli whispered, pressing the paper to his chest. "You didn't just… fall?"
Everything he had believed—everything he had tried to make peace with—fractured in an instant.
A part of him had always felt uneasy about it. Jesse's accident had been too clean. The official story was too neat: an unfortunate fall from the abandoned rail bridge, the same bridge they used to sneak across the valley as kids. Everyone had accepted it. Moved on. Or pretended to.
But now Eli had a letter. A secret. A warning. And a grave that might have been dug too soon.
The next morning, Eli woke early and skipped breakfast. He didn't tell Hailey where he was going—just mumbled something about "getting some air" and drove straight to Fox Hollow High.
The school was mostly locked up for summer, but he knew how 77to get in. The back doors by the old gym had a faulty latch that kids used to sneak out through. Jesse had found it during their sophomore year, and they had used it so often that it felt more like their entrance than the front door.
Inside, the halls were dim and quiet, dust motes floating in lazy spirals beneath the fluorescent lights. The lockers lined the walls like silent sentinels. Jesse's was still there—#118. Untouched. No nameplate. No graffiti. Just the metal door that had once held all his secrets.
Eli crouched, running his hand along the back panel of the shelf. Nothing. He knocked once. Hollow. Again. This time harder. The panel gave a little.
"There you are," he whispered.
With effort, Eli pried it loose. Behind it, wedged into the gap, was a small black flash drive. He blinked. No notebook. No letters. Just this.
Eli stared at the tiny object in his palm. Whatever Jesse had been hiding… it was here.
Back at the house, Eli locked his door and plugged the drive into his laptop. A folder popped up instantly: DO NOT IGNORE THIS.
Inside were three video files. He opened the first. Static. Then a shaky image: Jesse, sitting in what looked like a school library. His face was pale, and his eyes darted around nervously.
"Okay," he whispered to the camera, "if you're seeing this, I guess… I couldn't finish this the way I wanted to."
Eli's breath caught.
"Something is happening at Fox Hollow. I overheard Coach Willis talking to someone—someone who isn't supposed to be here. I think… they're covering something up. About the new science building. The construction. There's money moving around. Students are disappearing from detention without explanation."
Jesse looked into the camera, his eyes wild. "I think they saw me recording. If anything happens to me, it's not an accident. I'm not making this up. Please, Eli. Don't stop until you know what happened."
The video cut to black.
Eli slammed the laptop shut, his pulse racing. Coach Willis? Construction money? Disappearing students? What the hell had Jesse uncovered?
That night, the town buzzed with quiet excitement as people prepared for the high school reunion. Eli stood in front of the mirror, straightening his collar. He didn't want to go—but he had to. If Jesse's letter was real, someone from their class or someone at that reunion might know something.
And then there was Noah. The name twisted inside him like an old scar. They hadn't spoken in ten years. After Jesse's death, Noah had pulled away completely. No calls. No emails. Not even at the funeral. Just vanished.
Until now.
Eli didn't know what seeing him again would do to his heart, to his mind, or to the fragile walls he'd spent a decade building. But he needed answers. Even if they came wrapped in old pain.
He took a deep breath, pocketed the flash drive, and stepped into the night.Eli's fingers trembled as he held the letter. The paper was thin, delicate with age, but the words—every one of them—pierced through the years like a blade.
"If something happens to me… it wasn't an accident. Please don't believe what they'll say. You always knew me best, Eli. And if I'm gone… it means I got too close to the truth. I was scared to tell you everything. But look in my locker. Back of the shelf, behind the panel. You'll understand. I love you. And I'm sorry."
— J
Eli sat there for what felt like hours, the silence broken only by the erratic thud of his heart. Jesse had written this before he died. Which meant—
"God," Eli whispered, pressing the paper to his chest. "You didn't just… fall?"
Everything he had believed—everything he had tried to make peace with—fractured in an instant.
A part of him had always felt uneasy about it. Jesse's accident had been too clean. The official story was too neat: an unfortunate fall from the abandoned rail bridge, the same bridge they used to sneak across the valley as kids. Everyone had accepted it. Moved on. Or pretended to.
But now Eli had a letter. A secret. A warning. And a grave that might have been dug too soon.
The next morning, Eli woke early and skipped breakfast. He didn't tell Hailey where he was going—just mumbled something about "getting some air" and drove straight to Fox Hollow High.
The school was mostly locked up for summer, but he knew how to get in. The back doors by the old gym had a faulty latch that kids used to sneak out through. Jesse had found it during their sophomore year, and they had used it so often that it felt more like their entrance than the front door.
Inside, the halls were dim and quiet, dust motes floating in lazy spirals beneath the fluorescent lights. The lockers lined the walls like silent sentinels. Jesse's was still there—#118. Untouched. No nameplate. No graffiti. Just the metal door that had once held all his secrets.
Eli crouched, running his hand along the back panel of the shelf. Nothing. He knocked once. Hollow. Again. This time harder. The panel gave a little.
"There you are," he whispered.
With effort, Eli pried it loose. Behind it, wedged into the gap, was a small black flash drive. He blinked. No notebook. No letters. Just this.
Eli stared at the tiny object in his palm. Whatever Jesse had been hiding… it was here.
Back at the house, Eli locked his door and plugged the drive into his laptop. A folder popped up instantly: DO NOT IGNORE THIS.
Inside were three video files. He opened the first. Static. Then a shaky image: Jesse, sitting in what looked like a school library. His face was pale, and his eyes darted around nervously.
"Okay," he whispered to the camera, "if you're seeing this, I guess… I couldn't finish this the way I wanted to."
Eli's breath caught.
"Something is happening at Fox Hollow. I overheard Coach Willis talking to someone—someone who isn't supposed to be here. I think… they're covering something up. About the new science building. The construction. There's money moving around. Students are disappearing from detention without explanation."
Jesse looked into the camera, his eyes wild. "I think they saw me recording. If anything happens to me, it's not an accident. I'm not making this up. Please, Eli. Don't stop until you know what happened."
The video cut to black.
Eli slammed the laptop shut, his pulse racing. Coach Willis? Construction money? Disappearing students? What the hell had Jesse uncovered?
That night, the town buzzed with quiet excitement as people prepared for the high school reunion. Eli stood in front of the mirror, straightening his collar. He didn't want to go—but he had to. If Jesse's letter was real, someone from their class, or someone at that reunion, might know something.
And then there was Noah. The name twisted inside him like an old scar. They hadn't spoken in ten years. After Jesse's death, Noah had pulled away completely. No calls. No emails. Not even at the funeral. Just vanished.
Until now.
Eli didn't know what seeing him again would do to his heart, to his mind, or to the fragile walls he'd spent a decade building. But he needed answers. Even if they came wrapped in old pain.
He took a deep breath, pocketed the flash drive, and stepped into the night.