Page 4 of Midnight Lessons
Entering Midnight Falls High School is like taking a walk down memory lane. The scent of floor wax and textbooks hits me with nostalgia so thick it’s almost tangible. I navigate the hallways that haven’t changed since my teenage years, though the faces in the trophy cases are fresh and unfamiliar.
“Owen, you made it,” Principal Chapman greets me with a hearty handshake outside the biology lab. He was the vice principal when I was here, and his bushy mustache and thinning hair are now white, but his enthusiasm for education hasn’t waned a bit.
“Good to see you, sir,” I reply, appreciating his firm grip, a sign of respect in my book.
“Come and meet the team,” he says, ushering me into the teacher’s lounge. A handful of staff members look up from their coffee mugs and lesson plans, eyeing me curiously.
“Everyone, this is Owen Callahan, our new biology teacher and a graduate of Midnight Falls High School,” Principal Chapman announces.
A chorus of “hello” and “welcome” buzzes around me like friendly bees.
“Great to meet you all,” I say, locking eyes with each one, throwing in a nod here and there.
They seem like a decent bunch, and I’m relieved. You never know with faculty rooms—they can be your best resource or your daily battleground. This seems like the former.
“Can’t wait to get things started,” I tell them, hoping my eagerness doesn’t come off as overzealous. I’m still new to teaching, so I know I’ll need to earn my place here.
“Feel free to set up your classroom,” Mrs. Keaton, the department head with a sharp bob and sharper eyes, suggests. “School spirit’s high this year. The kids will love having a local as their teacher.”
“Thanks, I’ll head there now,” I say, excusing myself with a few more handshakes.
The biology lab is exactly as I remember: black countertops worn smooth by decades of experiments and the faint etchings of past students’ names carved discreetly on the edges. Old Mr.Benson’s stuffed owl still perches atop the filing cabinet, one glass eye missing like it's giving my return a winking approval. Mr. Benson’s been gone for a few years, but that owl still sits there, watching over everyone.
I look through boxes of supplies, noting how the microscopes are set up and the old posters of cellular structures. My hands move with purpose, organizing and planning. Control feels right in this space. Science has rules, order, predictability. It’s comforting.
Midway through arranging the seating chart, my phone vibrates in my pocket. A text message lights up the screen:
Mark:Hey, buddy. Heard you were back in town. Got time for lunch with an old friend?
A grin tugs at my lips. Mark is one of the few friends I’ve kept in touch with from high school, even during my time away. He always has a way of keeping things light, even when everything else feels heavy.
I type back a quick confirmation, telling him I’ll meet him at the burger place in townin an hour before re-pocketing my phone. Seeing Mark will be good for the soul, a chance to laugh, share stories, and maybe even make peace with old ghosts.
I take in the nearly finished classroom. “Looking good, Mr. Biology Teacher.”
An hour later, I’m sitting opposite Mark in Lou’s Burger Shack, a place where our names are etched in history, along with countless milkshake orders.
The place hasn’t changed much, and neither has Mark, except now he’s running his own IT company.
Mark leans back in his seat and sips his soda. “So, you’re back in town, taking over as the biology teacher, huh? I’ve gotta admit, I never thought you’d come back here to teach. What gives?”
The last time I saw Mark was at my parents’ funeral, and I had no plans to return to Midnight Falls then. Mom and Dad were killed by a drunk driver while on vacation a year ago, leaving medrowning in grief and causing me to reevaluate everything.
I shrug, stabbing a fry into some ketchup. “The job came up at the high school, and it seemed like the right move. After everything, losing Mom and Dad, I guess I needed to come home. Back to my roots and the people who matter. I missed this place.”
Marks gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Owen. I can’t imagine how tough it must be to lose both parents at once. They were good people.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Talking of good people… You been toThe Bewitched Bakery yet?”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of Willow’s bakery. “Haven’t seen her yet,” I reply, trying to play it cool.
Mark’s eyebrows shoot up. “Not even a peek? Damn, I thought you’d run over there the second you got into town. Willow was... well, she was special to you, wasn’t she?”
I shift uncomfortably. “Yeah, she was. But a lot’s happened since then. We, uh, didn’t part on good terms.”
Mark nods, looking thoughtful. “I remember, not that you ever told me the full story. Must’ve been pretty bad.”
I grimace. “Let’s just say I fucked up spectacularly and hurt her.”
Thankfully, Mark picks up on my reluctance to talk and drops the subject.