It was a bright, sunny day outside in Oakbridge, Maine. He was lying, back against the school, book in his hands. He, was Nate. Nathaniel Evan Thanin. He didn’t have many friends. There was Katherin, he supposed, but she was with her friends, laughing and screaming on the play structure. He looked back to The Adventures of the Jungle, which he was now reading for the fifth time. Nobody paid attention to him. Not even the teachers. But they used to. 

They’d ask him, “Are you okay, Nathaniel? Why don’t you play with the other kids?” 

Nate had looked up from his book, placing a finger on the page he was on, and pressed the book close to his chest like it was a precious child. “I’m reading,” he had simply said.

“You can read at other times,” the teacher had observed. “Do you have a friend to play with?” His eyes slowly raked the playstructure. 

“No,” he said. The teacher frowned at him. “I’m fine reading.” The teacher walked away and left him with his book.

Other teachers had tried similar things, trying to get him to be with other kids. But Nate was happier alone. 

Nate supposed he had Katherin, his ish-friend. Katherin was the only one who seemed to care, really. Besided the too-nosy teachers. But Katherin was busy with her friends. She just checked in with him, that was all.

 She’d pop her head in front of his book and ask, “How are you doing, Nate?”

Every single time, he responded with, “Fine.” That wasn’t really a lie. Nate was fine. Sure, he was alone, but he was fine. 

He turned back to his book, easily blocking out the noises of shrieking kids. His eyes flashed across the page, eagerly sucking up the words. “Tigers, one of the jungles largest…” Nate loved facts. Facts made sense. There was a reason for everything. That made him feel better. A reason for everything. Everything happened for a reason. No fire breathing dragons were going to pop up out of caves and eat him. No vampires were going to sink their gleaming teeth into him and suck all his blood out. And if that did happen, there would be a reason. There was always a reason.

“Nate!” He looked up from The Adventures of the Jungle, and hugged it close to him. 

“Yes?” He looked into Katherin’s brown eyes. When she didn’t say anything for a minute, he turned back to his book. 

“Oh, stop that,” she said, yanking the book away from him. He watched the book snap shut, page lost on the damp grass. 

“Hey,” he grumbled, making a grab for his book.

“No,” Katherin said, snatching the book hopelessly out of reach. “You don’t talk to anyone. You sit in the corner on beautiful days, and read.”

“What’s so bad about reading?” Nate wanted to know.

“Katherin!” 

Shayla, Katherin’s “bestie” called from behind.

    Katherin turned her head. Don’t go, Nate found himself wishing.

    “Just a minute, Shay!” Katherin turned back to Nate. “Come hang out with us! My friends won’t mind.”

    “I’m good,” he said, eyeing the screaming girls with nervousness. One violently shoved another down a slide. Everything happens for a reason. 

    “It’ll be fun!” Katherin protested. “Please?”

    “Katherin,” Nate sighed. “We do this every time.”

    “No we don’t.”

    “Almost,” he corrected himself. “Look, I’m not really in the mood to get shoved down a slide right now.”

    “You never are,” Katherin complained. 

    “I’m good, really. Thanks though.”

    “Fine.” Katherin stomped away, leaving Nate’s book on the grass. He got up and grabbed it, just as the whistle blew. Nate stood up, walking towards the door. He glanced at Katherin, talking and laughing with Shayla. Katherin wasn’t mad at him, she never was. Just disappointed. He traced the outline of leaves on the cover of his book, and marched with the rest of the eighth grade class, away towards science. Where a dead worm would be waiting for him.
                   ~~~

    Disecting a worm was no fun. Sure, Nate liked science and all, but he’d rather not chop up a once-living innocent creature just to write about it’s insides. It didn’t seem very nice. Everything happens for a reason. He knew the reason, but it wasn’t very good. So we can identify the organs and parts of the inside of a worm, and write about what you see. Nate didn’t really mind gross things, but he hated chopping up dead things. It was cruel. Plus, the thought that everybody in this room had a knife was a little uncomforting. This was dumb. He shouldn’t have to dissect the worm. What if, in some other world, giant dragons caught and murdered humans to dissect them for science class?! Humans were just as important as worms. 

    Nate shook himself. Dragons weren’t real. Nate glanced at the clock. Five minutes.

    “Everybody put your worm into the jar, bring your tools up front, it’s time to pick up!” Nate noticed how the teacher avoided saying the word knife. He slipped the worm bits onto his blade, watching them slide into the jar. He ran the blade along the side of the jar to get one last worm bit off his knife. He brought the knife and jar to the front. “Nathaniel, where’s your sticky note?” the teacher asked, examining his nameless jar. 

    He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

    The teacher frowned, handing him a new sticky note. He wrote Nate in small, neat letters. The teacher sighed. He knew what she was thinking. Nobody writes in cursive anymore, Nathaniel. Nate didn’t care. He stuck the sticky note on top of his worm-jar, grabbed his bag, and hurried out of the classroom, eager to get away from the room where bits of worm layed, chopped into bits. Nate grabbed his book for reading from his locker. A small, green sticky note caught his eye. He picked it up.

        Nate, 

        Weird things are going to happen. You’ve got to fix them. Protect your family, get supplies while you can. 

        You’ll thank me later. 

        Don’t worry, you’ll know who I am eventually. 

        You don’t have a lot of time. Get what you can, and meet me in the forest at 12:34 am sharp when it happens.

        You’ll know. Promise.

        See you soon,
        -J

    Nate stared at the sticky not in his hands. What did that mean? How did they even know his name? His nickname? He sure as heck was not getting up to meet somebody he didn’t even know at 12:34 sharp in the morning. Why 12:34? Why not round to something like 12:30, or 12:35? But despite his instincts screaming at him to crumple up the note and hurl it in the trash, Nate tucked the sticky note into his backpack. On the back it said, Nate from where he had previously written his name for science. He had spent a lot of time making his letters look like that. He stared at his name. How did they get his science sticky note? They didn’t know the school’s password to open the doors. Wait, but maybe it was somebody inside the school. But who would do that?
    Nate didn’t read a lot of mysteries, that’s why he wasn’t good at them. Most likely, he was going to die.