Perched Observer

Sibyl stretched his pristine white wings, the golden patterns across his chest catching the morning light as he perched on his favorite branch overlooking Twin Pines Middle School. The two tall pine trees by the front steps had been his home for three years now, and he knew every student's routine by heart.

"Morning, wise guy!" called Maya, a seventh-grader with curly red hair bouncing as she climbed the steps. She always greeted him, unlike most students who rushed past without looking up.

Sibyl tilted his head, his large eyes following the stream of chattering kids. Something felt different today. The usual morning energy seemed tighter, more nervous. Whispered conversations stopped when certain students walked by.

Near the old gymnasium, a group of eighth-graders huddled together, their voices too low for human ears but perfectly clear to Sibyl. They were talking about someone named Danny who hadn't shown up to class yesterday.

"Probably just sick," one boy muttered, but his tone suggested otherwise.

Sibyl's ornate headpiece glinted as he turned his attention toward the weathered gymnasium doors.

The Fire Escape View

By lunchtime, Sibyl had counted three more empty desks. Danny wasn't the only one missing. Sarah from sixth grade hadn't been seen since Tuesday, and now Tommy Martinez was nowhere to be found.

The owl glided silently from his pine tree perch toward the old gymnasium, landing on the rusty fire escape that zigzagged up its brick wall. From here, he could see everything.

"Where do you think they went?" Maya whispered below, talking to her friend Josh near the gymnasium doors.

"My dad says kids just run away sometimes," Josh replied, kicking a pebble.

Sibyl's golden patterns caught the afternoon sun as he spread one wing, then the other. Something moved in the shadows by the building's corner. A figure hunched over what looked like a large canvas bag.

The person straightened up. It was Mr. Peterson, the elderly maintenance man with his wild gray hair sticking out from under his cap. He was dragging something heavy toward a rusty service door.

Sibyl's large eyes focused intently. The bag was too big, too oddly shaped. As Peterson struggled with his burden, something fell out—a bright red sneaker.

Tommy Martinez always wore bright red sneakers.