I can do this, and even if I can't, I have to.

Pete Silverman. 18 years old. He/him. High school student. Survivor. Devil's Knot RP.

[petesilverman]

It didn't matter what was happening. When Pete hung out with Brooke, things always felt better. Sure, he was an introvert, quiet and reserved, but he wasn't shy or some shrinking violet. He liked to get out of the house either with his pitbull Billie in tow or with a friend or two. He needed to get his mind off... well, everything. The beeping and whizzing electronic sounds of the arcade machines were the perfect distracting soundtrack for a Sunday afternoon.

"Do you know that kid Elias that works here?" Pete asked, sticking a few quarters in the Mortal Kombat machine. It was a casual question, and that was exactly what it sounded like, but Pete was kind of curious what Brooke made of Elias. She was kind of a social pariah too. People read way too much into her make-up and fashion sense. "I talked to him in the library the other day. He's actually pretty cool."

The character select screen popped up, and Pete flicked between them a little before settling on Raiden, waiting for Brooke to pick her fighter. "I wonder if they'll ever get Mortal Kombat 2 in here. It's only been... what, two years since it came out?" He chuckled. This town always seemed so behind on everything.

@brooke-youngblood

[petesilverman]

eliasdeere‌:

“Somewhere quiet? Well, I think you found the one person in the library that can do that for you,” Elias responded, a brief smile fluttering in and out of existence in about the same time it takes for someone to blink. He had questions for Pete, ones that lurked on the tip of the tongue and the back of the mind. But, again, so did everyone in town. He just knew better than to vocalize them. Elias was already the odd kid so making Pete uncomfortable would do absolutely nothing for either of them. Besides, Elias can forgive the man for lurking. It was hardly his fault.

“Oh, this?” Elias couldn’t stop the flush as it spread from his cheeks to his ears. “I was writing a poem,” he admitted, bending his head to hide the fiery red of his face. “People always say to write from experience and that’s what I’m trying to do. Not that it’s going too well,” he confessed with a small frown. “The meter isn’t quite what I want and I still don’t know if I should be using iambs. Never mind the last sestet, the damn thing has–” Elias broke off, flushing even redder than before. “Sorry. I just… Yeah. Sorry.”

In an attempt to recover his social graces, he turned to Pete. “What brought you to the library?”

Pete gave a small, almost hesitant smile. He hated that all the uncertainties and traumas and insecurities he'd spent years warring with had come back in full force since Brian had gone missing. He found himself questioning whether people were being nice to him because they felt guilty about something. He didn't get that vibe from Elias, and it was a relief. Most of the town thought Elias was this weird, unsettling kid. Maybe he was a bit unusual, but Pete didn't see that as a character flaw. At least Elias was real.

Hearing about the poem immediately made some (not all) of Pete's awkwardness disappear. Talking about artsy and creative stuff was something he could do. "Neat," he replied with genuine interest. "I've tried to write like poetry and song lyrics and stuff too and probably did a way worse job, so I wouldn't feel too bad about it." It made him kinda sad how Elias immediately apologised for talking about something that interested him. It made Pete wonder what kind of reactions he'd had in the past.

"I'm supposed to be working on college applications," Pete answered in the kind of way that made it obvious that wasn't actually what he was doing. Still, he had a pile of brochures and applications in front of him, which he gestured to vaguely. "Just still not sure about the whole college thing."

[petesilverman]

What were you doing last Saturday afternoon?

‘Walking. Just walking.’

‘Walking where?’ they ask him.

‘Nowhere in particular,’ he answers quietly, almost as if he’s ashamed or embarrassed, but he’s not. It’s just a fact.

‘That could mean a lot of things.’

‘Yeah,’ Pete shrugs, not dismissively, but as if to acknowledge the question; what more can he say?

‘Was anyone with you?’

Pete shakes his head. ‘Just me and my dog.’ He’s quiet for a moment. But then, he’s always quiet. ‘I don’t really like sports, but just walking around and listening to music… it relaxes me. Helps me forget about stuff.’

If you were a cynic, you might see it as a subtle manipulation, an attempt to play the victim, but anyone who’s really familiar with Pete knows it isn’t what he wants in life. He just wants to live it. Still, they can’t help but remember his past now that Brian has gone missing. There’s the simple scratching of a pen and the usual understanding, polite smile. Nobody really suspects the kid anyway. They’re just asking ‘cause they have to.

‘It’s okay son. I doubt we’ll need anything from ya. Just take care of yourself, okay?’

[petesilverman]

principal-hawker‌:

Ken shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was a seat he’d occupied for the better part of 30 years, one his father would have him give up in favor of a seat on the town council. Looking up at Pete, his best friend’s son, a kid who’d been shoved through hell and expected to turn out normal, Ken didn’t want to leave this chair. It was uncomfortable and stressful and draining, but if he made a difference in even one kid’s life, well it was worth it, wasn’t it?

But Ken had been neglecting his duties when it came to Pete, and he was vowing to be better. So he steeled himself and let a gentle smile take its place on his worn and weary face. He could tell Pete was reciting words he’d probably uttered a million times in the past week, and the man felt awful for making him repeat them. 

What he didn’t expect was Pete’s question. 

People didn’t talk to Ken about Philip anymore. It was a touchy subject, one Ken used to get real steamed at, or one he would shut down. More often than not, people just didn’t want to talk about such an “ugly” topic. He couldn’t blame them. If anyone should have suspected something like that, it should have been him. Especially with Sandy popping herself full of pills, she wasn’t exactly the picture of a devoted and doting wife. But Ken? He spent damn near every other day with the man. 

How could he have missed this?

Ken sighed, leaning back against the worn leather, lifting a hand to run through his hair. “Huh….funny, no one really asks about him anymore, do they? Not in the way you’d wanna talk about him, at least.” If anyone did bring up his late friend, it was usually tied to a clipping of “The Devil Came Home” or some other Satanic crap. Did he really worship the Devil? Is it true they found a shrine to the kings of Hell in his basement? I heard he drank Sandy’s blood after she went to sleep! 

Nonsense. Utter and complete bullshit. 

“He was a good guy, Pete. Or at least I thought he was.” Ken clenched his eyes shut for a moment, letting a long silence wash over them. 

“We fished a lot. He always talked about how he was gonna give you his pole when you were old enough. How we’d all take a huge trip out to Duck Lake, make a whole weekend out of it, just us guys.” The man’s eyes glazed over, lost in a happier memory. “We drank beers, we shot the shit, we talked about everything. Boy, some of the stories we have, well damn if you’d believe ‘em.” 

Memories flared up in his mind of past fishing trips, before the kids were born, and even after when they brought toddlers out on the lake. Cracking beers in the shed, trying not to get caught by Abel. The day they each got married. Not a single mention of the Devil, no warning signs. Just a normal man who cracked one day and threw his life away. 

Ken’s face hardened and he looked down at his hands, fingers twisting over each other. “But you never really know anyone, do you?” He muttered, immediately regretting the words. This was Pete’s father. The man who loved him and wanted the best for him and kidnapped him, tied him up and drugged him and tried to kill him. “I wish I could say he was wrongly accused, or that there were signs of some sort of insanity, but…well there just wasn’t.” Sure, towards the end, Philip pulled Ken into more and more “man on man” events, using any opportunity to get away from his family. He was acting more skittish, and they butted heads more than they used to, but that was par for the course. 

Wasn’t it?

The alternative, that Philip was giving Ken all the signs of a sociopath who’d been biding his time, but that Ken didn’t see them or worse, ignored them…it was too much to bear. Ken felt his fingers itching and for the first time in months, felt a real urge to blow off the rest of the day and waste the night away in the dank, musty casino. 

“I’m sorry, I-” Ken let out a long sigh, one that rumbled through him as if it threatened to topple him from the inside out. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the place. “I know people must be asking how you are on a loop, and I’m sorry I was one of ‘em. Just…I loved your father. He was the brother I never had, one who stuck by me. That’s the version of him I try to remember. Even when it’s impossible.”

Pete was no stranger to people being uncomfortable around him. It had become more rare as the years had passed since the incident, but whenever it came up, he could feel that uncomfortable silence setting in, like a sudden chill had hit the air. Ken had a warm demeanour, the kind that struck you as trustworthy. Exactly what you wanted in a principle. Probably exactly what you wanted in a friend, too. Was that what his dad had thought, way back in the day?

God, it had been a while since Pete had tried to get in his dad's head. In so many ways, it was a fruitless endeavour. His father was dead, and whatever demons had driven him to do what he'd done, they'd died with him.

Ken might have been the only person around who had really known Philip Silverman. Probably better than even Pete's mom had.

Ken looked like he'd been smacked in the face for a moment when Pete brought up Philip, but he did his best to hide it, to stay the same, laid back but weighed down man he'd always been. Pete carried so much with him. Sometimes it was easy to forget what other people carried too. "Nobody wants to," Pete answered. "Can't really blame 'em. I'm not even sure I want to talk about him, but even all these years later, I've still got so many questions."

Pete couldn't remember the last time he'd talked this much about it to anyone except Karen. Karen's responses were always... not exactly clinical, but... not exactly personal, either. She hadn't really known Philip. All her focus was on Pete. The way Ken described him, he seemed like a nice, normal guy. But how many seemingly nice, normal guys went on to do awful things? Way too many.

"I remember that stuff too. The fishing, the walks, the camping." They were the vague memories of a child, sometimes clear as day and sometimes so distant that they felt like dreams. "It's kinda weird, not knowing what the truth is, knowing I can never really find out. Kinda just wish I could bring him back for a day and ask him a few questions." Pete gave a sort of hopeless, humorless chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

[petesilverman]

kevshah‌:

Kevin’s not an idiot, or completely devoid of a heart, so he knows there’s probably something he should be doing as Pete’s friend in the wake of Brian’s disappearance. Or Pete’s kind-of friend, whatever. He knows this probably all sucks for him and his family, probably hit like a ton of bricks, and Kevin doesn’t want to seem like he’s avoiding him.

However, equally as strong as the need to be supportive is Kevin’s worry over coming off as just another one of the countless gossip mongers, reaching out just to feel involved (Oh, sweetheart, how are you holding up, you poor thing?) As with most things involving Pete, he just doesn’t know quite where he stands, or what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s just– Uncharacteristically unmoored, waiting in this awkward limbo and hoping something will just happen so he doesn’t have to decide when the right time to act is, or even what that’s supposed to look like.

So when the call comes through, it’s a kind of relief. Kevin tries for normal. “Hey, man.” He leans against the kitchen island, as if the blasé pose could somehow translate through his voice to Pete on the phone. It’s not an entirely unfamiliar game, pretending to be more settled than he actually is. If he’s being honest, it’s not even a posture specific to the Brian thing– talking to Pete has always felt a little bit like circling a wild animal, a creature who he desperately wants to keep around but whose experience he can’t even begin to fathom. Like it’s only a matter of time before he steps on the wrong twig and frightens him away.

The thought makes him cringe at himself, alone in the half-dark kitchen. God, don’t be such a dick. He focuses on another memory instead, the familiar image of Pete rifling through a stack of cassettes instead, or the pages of a textbook in the library. Not a myth, or a character in a story, but just another teenager. Bad shit happens to everybody, so what– that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve just enough chance to live their boring lives as everyone else, unbothered. Whatever the guy’s deal is, however their tentative friendship ends up playing out, Kevin’s not going to be another shitty thing that happened to Pete Silverman.

“Yeah, I’m bored out of my mind over here. ” While he talks, he fiddles with the pencil and notepad his mom’s left on the countertop, doodling a row of pine trees under a forgotten grocery list. Keeping his hands busy while he tries to keep his voice level and empty, dry. “Want me to pick you up later?”

Kevin wants to ask, or now?– Because he definitely doesn’t want to think about Pete outside alone, and the encroaching dark of October evenings, with the sun going down so early already. But he knows that’s probably not the normal thing to say, so he stays on the line, thankful Pete can’t see him shifting awkwardly as he waits for his response.

Pete couldn't really explain why it was Kevin he decided to call. Or at least he pretended he couldn't. Deep down he knew it was because Kevin didn't know the whole story. He hadn't been around long enough (at least in Pete's life) to be completely entwined in the sordid history, the drama, the big sad story. Sure, he knew about it, the same way anyone who'd lived in Devil's Knot did, but he wasn't one of Pete's close friends. He wasn't going to be constantly looking over Pete's shoulder and asking him if he was okay.

Kevin seemed to be the kind of guy who just wanted to hang out, listen to music, and get high. Pete didn't know if that last part was true or not. He just knew that was the kind of vibe he got. Kevin's casual tone was always a relief to hear. "Yeah, thank god it's Friday, right?"

He'd have been happy to walk across town, but Kevin's offer to pick him up was a welcome one. "That'd be awesome. Just give me like an hour to take the dog out." He didn't know when his mom would be home, but he knew that when she did come home, he wouldn't want to hang around and feel her worrying about him while somehow, simultaneously not giving a crap.

He took Billie out, got a shower and change of clothes, then he threw his keys and wallet into his pockets and scribbled a note to let his mom know he was out with a friend. She'd probably glance at it and be relieved. By the time he'd just about tucked the note under an empty glass on the kitchen table, he could hear the sound of the car outside. He threw Billie a couple of treats and gave him one last fuss before taking off, sliding easily into Kevin's passenger seat. "Let's get outta here," he chuckled, and it was only a few moments before he was contendedly tapping his fingers on his thigh along to the beat of Kevin's music.

"What did you wanna do? Get some food at the diner, go to the arcade?"

[petesilverman]

principal-hawker‌:

Ken had been principal long enough to know the right way to go about checking in on your students. It may have been 20+ years since he was a high school student and lord knows things have changed, but so many things had stayed the same. There were still the popular kids, the sensitive kids, the arty ones and the “losers”. Each group judgemental in their own way, they were always on the look out for the weak one in the pack. Ken knew if he ever wanted to check in with anyone, it was better not to call attention to the act.

Instead, he’d slipped a note to Mrs. Anders and hoped it would be passed along surreptitiously to one Pete Silverman. Ken didn’t make it a habit to call the kid in, or even to really talk to him at all. As close as he had become with his older sister, Ken just hadn’t been able to form that kind of bond with his best friend’s son. He often found himself excusing himself from the conversation whenever his name even came up.

But now, that was impossible.

After the disappearance of Brian, it felt like every conversation had Pete or Philip’s name in it. It was happening again. It was just like Pete. But Max was arrested. But Philip was dead. It just didn’t end. 

Ken might have avoided Pete over the years, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about the kid. In fact, it was really more of the opposite. He pitied him, and it broke his heart to see him. But now, he had to put on the signature Ken Hawker Brave Face and make sure his best friend’s son was doing alright. 

As good as anyone could, at least.

A soft knock alerted the man to his student’s presence and he welcomed the kid inside. Ken’s office could never be described as ‘neat’ or ‘organized’. In fact, most of his assistants and peers often, and loudly, wondered how he managed to get anything done or find any paperwork whatsoever. It was a cluttered and crowded space, with wood paneled walls and dark, decades old plush chairs. Ken stood from his own old leather seat and gestured for Pete to have a seat.

“Hey, kid. I uh, just sorta wanted to see how you were holdin’ up.” Ken ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit his father had always chastised him for. “I don’t wanna keep you long or anything, but I know with this whole Brian mess, well I know it can’t be easy. And I just want you to know you can talk to me. If you uh, need to.”

Ken had practiced a million and one of these speeches, never having the chance, or the balls, to give it. Now that the words were coming out, Ken found that he hadn’t practiced saying much of anything at all. A twinge of guilt tugged at his stomach. He was failing his late friend. But why should he care? He tried to kill his own son. His own son who’d grown into a man already. God, where had the time gone?

Pete liked Principal Hawker. He was good at his job, he was fair, he was invested in his students and their best interests. He wasn't 'cool' like Mary, but you couldn't ask for everything, right? Getting called to the Principle's office was usually cause for concern, and for Pete, that was definitely the case, but he knew what this was about. He hadn't done anything wrong. In some ways, that made Pete feel better. In other ways, it made him feel worse.

Pete took a seat in one of the old cushioned chairs. His chest was getting tighter, his palms were getting sweatier, his stomach felt like it was taking a plunge. He'd grown used to these feelings. They were the kind of thing he usually drowned out with music, but there were no comfort blanket headphones with him now.

"Holding up?" Pete repeated. Yeah, those words. Too damn familiar, but how did you get mad at people who were being kind to you, who just wanted what was best for you? You couldn't. Especially not when they were the principle.

"I'm okay," he answered, probably just a little too quickly. "It was a long time ago. I barely even really remember it." That was true, at least partly, but not remembering didn't necessarily make it easier to deal with. He woke up with nightmares and flashbacks, often unable to separate what was real from imagination.

There was a quiet that hung in the air for a few moments, probably briefly, but for Pete, everything seemed to drag out. Every second of silence felt like minutes. "Sir? I... I know you were close, with my dad." The two of them had been best of friends, close as brothers at one point. It was something most people didn't really talk about, at least to him. "What was he like? You know... before."

[hugoahn-deactivated20210315]

An interaction for @petesilverman

Perhaps this was not the best time to write. 

The weather was the kind of cold that wasn’t noticeable until it had sunk into your chest and bones with steel claws. It had wrapped itself around his hands all the way through to his heart and lungs. It made Elias’ hands clumsy, barely managing to hold the pencil and create with the finesse he usually loved. 

But the issue with a human mind is that it fails, it remembers the wrong and forgets the right. And that creates the human experience, a collection of partially remembered truths. The only way to combat that was to write when it was fresh, when the memory still bled with truth. And that was what Elias did, battling the cold in an attempt to keep the horrors and the stories of Devil’s Knot alive.

When a shadow fell on the page, Elias slammed the book shut with the fear and practice of someone well-acquainted with harsh remarks towards his creativity. He looked up, squinting past the sun, and greeted the figure that stood above him with a simple, “Hello, Pete. Can I… Do anything for you?”

[petesilverman]

He didn't mean to lurk. Pete was so tall and lanky that he sort of cast a shadow everywhere he went. He'd gravitated to Elias in the library because he needed somewhere to sit and out of everyone here, he'd figured Elias was the one who would say the least. Besides, he'd been kind of meaning to get to know him a little better anyway.

"No, sorry." He lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck softly. "Just looking for somewhere quiet to sit." He slid his long frame into one of the chairs. Nobody else was fighting to take them. People tended to avoid Elias anyway.

Pete took his books out of his bag, his curiosity (and maybe just some desperate desire to connect with someone over something that wasn't tragedy), he spoke again. "What are you working on?" He paused. "If it's... okay to ask."

[connieromano-blog]

@petesilverman // trapped.

Oh. Connie slows down her brisk pace, comes to a complete halt. Her eyes roam over her surroundings. She doesn’t recognise anything. She had lost her group a little bit earlier in the evening, splitting up to ‘cover more ground’ or whatever rubbish they’d all sprouted. Feeling uncomfortable she shifts from one foot to the next. There’s a crawling, itching sensation of panic slowly moving up inside of her chest. The sun is dropping in the background, the sky a sheen darker than it was before. She hasn’t grown up here, she doesn’t know the nooks and crannies with practiced ease like a local yet.

But she can hear the crunch and rustle of another body and she whips around as fast as she can to catch their attention. Connie is scared, she hates to say that but she is, just a little. It’s Pete Silverman. He’s in her class and she knows all the stories, they’ve orbited around each other without ever saying hello. She swallows down her pride and lifts her fingers up to wave at him. She wonders how he must be feeling about all this. Is he scared? Is he getting asked questions? Is he getting midnight flashbacks? Connie is, and she was never a missing child in Devil’s Knot. Does he feel connected to it all? Is he sick of all the attention? These are the burning questions she wants to ask, but she’s smart enough to keep her lips screwed tightly shut.

“Hi.” She says softly, moving forward. “I got split up from everyone and now I’m lost.” Connie laughs awkwardly, to fill the silence, to calm her nerves, to push away the rush of embarrassment she suddenly feels. She looks around their surroundings once more, “You wanna look together?” She asks. She half expects a venomous no, she’s quickly learned there are a lot of Devil Knot’s students who won’t give her the time of day because they don’t like her friends, and her and Pete Silverman aren’t friends, but there’s an inexplicable secret companionship she feels towards him - someone else who has been haunted by satanic tragedy, right?

[petesilverman]

His therapist probably would have told him that he shouldn't be out here. Something about bringing back memories or exposing himself to triggers or putting himself through more than he needed to. As if there was any way to escape those memories and feelings, even if he'd been curled up at home reading a book. They weren't going away. At least this way, he felt like he was doing something about it.

Pete had been walking for hours. They'd started in groups, then smaller groups, then pairs, and then it had just been Pete. He knew these woods and winding back roads well enough to convince himself he wasn't scared. A different kind of emotion had overtaken him; a quiet but stubborn determination.

He slowed as he heard the sounds, crunching of leaves, snapping of twigs, heavy breathing... He could feel the panic in the air when he approached them, even his own heart had been hammering with adrenaline and maybe even with fear. His fists clenched, one on his pocket, one around a flashlight, but it was only Connie.

"Hi," he answered back, his voice low, neutral bordering on soft. He never really talked to her before. He always avoided the popular kids. They'd never given him a hard time, but he just didn't gravitate to them. "It's easy to get lost here," he answered politely. She seemed nice enough. Nobody was out for trouble right now. Not with all this going on. "You bet," he nodded, beckoning her over. "We've probably got an hour or so before it gets too dark."

He almost wished he had brought Billie with him. At least then there wouldn't have been this awkward silence. It was probably just a couple minutes, but Pete couldn't help feeling like it went on forever, like he should be embarrassed for not knowing what to say. "Where did you move from?" he asked, finally.

[petesilverman]

open to: anyone with a connection to Pete

His mom wasn’t home when Pete got back from school, but to be honest, he didn’t expect her to be. She was working later and later. The paranoid part of him wondered if she was deliberately avoiding him anyway, avoiding talking to him or asking him how he’s feeling after what happened (or might have happened) to Brian. Then the cynic in him realized she probably didn’t really care enough to avoid him. She was just busy working. It had been a couple of years since Pete had really bothered trying to get her attention.

“Hey boy,” he greeted in a soft tone as Billie padded over to him. He bent down, pulling back the padded headphones that played one of his Smashing Pumpkins cassettes to scratch the dog behind the ears. He left his backpack and jacket hanging on the back of the dining chair, and made sure the water and food bowl were full. A chewed up tennis ball was lying on the floor, and he gave a little whistle before picking it up and bouncing it down the hallway so Billie could chase it and bring it back to him, and then he let him out in the back yard.

God, he was so freaking glad it was a Friday. But he was equally apprehensive about it. Tomorrow would mark one week since Brian had disappeared. He recognized the looks in people’s eyes when they spoke to David or Beth. He’d been on the receiving end way too many times. How weird was it to feel like he was the one giving those looks out? He’d also seen that look creep back into people’s eyes when they looked at him over the course of the week. He knew what they were thinking, because he was thinking the same thing.

It’s happening again.

Pete told himself it had to be something else, something completely unrelated to his father or to Max Acosta or to him. It sucked, but sometimes kids disappeared. That didn’t mean they were all linked… right? He didn’t wanna think about this stuff, and he especially didn’t wanna have the nightmares again. They’d been back all week long. He kept insisting everything was fine, but damn, he must have looked even more pale and skinny and exhausted than usual.

The little light flashed red on the answering machine, and he pulled a bottle of Diet Coke out of the fridge as he hit play. A message from Karen Shah’s receptionist telling him they could fit him in tomorrow if he wanted, could he call them before 10 tomorrow morning to confirm? Pete sighed. The next message was for his mom.

He shook his head, almost pulling his headphones back up. Mostly out of habit, out of defence. He held off for a few minutes though, wandering into the garden to call Billie back over. The dog was always grateful for the attention, and Pete was always grateful for the distraction. After a few minutes playing with tennis balls and sticks, he took Billie back inside to grab his leash. He hovered by the phone again, just for a few moments, and then he dialled.

The phone rang a few times before the voice at the other end answered. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice as upbeat and casual as possible. “It’s Pete. I’m about to take the dog out for like an hour, but are you doing anything tonight? We can catch a movie or hit the diner or something.”

[petesilverman]

At least they'd had the decency not to drag him out of class, make him grab his books and shuffle out of the room with everyone's eyes on him. It had been a little message, passed to him by one of his teachers as a casual aside. 'Hey Pete, could you stop by Principal Hawker's office during your free period?'

It was fortunate his free period was right after this one, because even when he knew he'd done nothing wrong, he couldn't quite fight that nagging anxiety that he was about to get in trouble. The receptionist told him to take a seat for a few minutes and Principal Hawker would be with him in a moment. Pete nodded his thanks, pretending to be browsing the college pamphlets on the table and feeling the slight stab of guilt (and maybe even a pinch of FOMO) that he wasn't gonna be going.

"Pete?" the receptionist called after a few minutes. "Go on in."

"Thanks," he answered softly, standing and giving a couple of courtesy knocks on the door in spite of the fact he was expected. He waited for the invitation, and walked in, cautiously closing the door behind him. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

@principal-hawker

[devilsknotrp]

THE ROSEMARY’S BABY

Age: Eighteen Occupation: High School Senior Personality: Sweet, compassionate, curious; reserved, scattered, dependent. Faceclaim: Harris Dickinson

When Pete was eight years old, he was kidnapped by his father, Phillip. Pete’s pieced the story together through newspaper clippings and the fragments his sister, Mandy, has told him: that Phillip intended to kill him, but was interrupted at the last minute. Pete mainly remembers feeling sleepy and warm as they drove out of town. Then, much later, waking up as the icy water swallowed him whole. Pete suffers recurring nightmares from his childhood trauma. He might be reserved, but he’s not a wallflower. Shy, maybe. Quiet. But not weird. The kids at school long ago stopped treating him differently, which he’ll forever be thankful for. His sister, Mandy, actually picked up most of his parenting and is half mom, half sister. Everyone grew used to seeing her beat-up car pull into the parking lot. Pete can’t imagine what his childhood would have been like with Sandy raising him. Music is everything to him. Pete is never seen without his headphones around his neck. Music helps him forget, if only for a few minutes. He likes to walk and can disappear for hours, just wandering. The disappearance of Brian Goode has shocked him to his core. Every time he sees Linda’s distraught face, he feels awful and hollow and nauseous. Everyone pounced on the similarities between his case and Brian’s, but what Pete can’t say is how he has a dark, terrible feeling that all is not right here. His dad might have messed up kidnapping him, but Phillip paid the price, and Pete lived to see another day. No one knows anything about Brian. This time, Pete thinks whoever took him got it right… which means Brian is not coming home.

SANDY SILVERMAN → Mother, desperately wants her attention but rarely receives it, has come to pull away from her and become more private. MANDY SILVERMAN → Older sister, very close, they hang out a lot, an honest friendship. BROOKE YOUNGBLOOD → Best friend, platonic soulmate, they share everything and are joined at the hip KEVIN SHAH → New friend, started hanging out, they connect over music, getting to know one another. ELIAS DEERE → Classmate, barely knows, intrigued by, they orbit one another. HOMER WEST, JULIE WEST → Childhood friends, likes Homer a lot, thinks Julie is freaky. DAVID GOODE, BETH GOODE → Classmates, acquaintances. Nervous around because of Brian. MILTON FREE, SAM YAMAOKA, CONNIE ROMANO, KELLY SHAH → Popular kids, tends to avoid, has no real opinion on them. KAREN SHAH → Therapist, has been seeing her for years ever since the “incident”.

Pete is TAKEN