The Empty House
At first, I was angry. Then I grew worried. Andrew did not show up at school the next day. He did not answer his phone. By the end of the week, his number had been disconnected.
I finally went to his house. The curtains were gone, the driveway empty, and a “For Sale” sign stood on the lawn. I knocked repeatedly, but no one answered. A neighbor opened her door and told me the Carter family had left suddenly.
“Do you know where they went?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Packed up in the middle of the night. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I went home feeling as if the ground had shifted beneath my feet. For weeks, I tried everything — calling relatives, visiting the hardware store, even leaving letters with the real estate agent, hoping someone would forward them. No reply ever came.
At school, rumors spread fast. Some said Andrew had run away to avoid being a father. Others claimed his family had moved overseas. A few insisted he had been expelled. I stopped listening. All I knew was that he had promised to stand by me — and then he had vanished.
