The Boy With The Burnt File
1082 Words
Amara didn’t sleep that night.
She laid in bed staring at the ceiling, Axel’s voice echoing in her head: *“You sure you don’t remember me?”* The way he said it wasn’t casual. It was accusing. Like he was testing her.
But no matter how hard she tried to dig into her memory, she came up blank.
She’d never spoken to Axel Cruz before. She was sure of it. She would’ve remembered those eyes—cold, sharp, and way too observant. She would’ve remembered the scar that ran along his knuckle like a quiet warning.
So why did he act like she’d done something to him?
And more importantly—why did he act like he had something on her?
The next morning, Westbridge felt different. Not louder, not quieter—just…tense. Like the whole school was waiting for something to explode.
Amara walked the halls with her hood up, earbuds in, hoping to survive the day unseen. But fate had other plans.
“Amara Blake,” a teacher called out as she reached her locker. “Principal Blake needs to see you in his office.”
A few kids snickered.
Zoe appeared beside her, eyebrows raised. “Already in trouble?”
Amara groaned. “Great.”
She walked to the office, half-expecting to see Axel waiting again—but this time it was just her dad, standing at the window, arms crossed.
“Shut the door,” he said.
She did. “What now?”
He turned slowly. “You and Axel Cruz—has he spoken to you?”
Amara hesitated. “A little. Why?”
“He’s dangerous, Amara. Stay away from him. That’s not a request.”
“You already said that. But you won’t tell me why.”
Her father sighed, looking older than usual. “Some things are better left buried.”
Amara crossed her arms. “You know that never works in this school, right? Secrets get dragged into the light whether you want them to or not.”
He looked her dead in the eye. “Then be smarter than the others. Don’t go digging.”
She stared at him. “What happened with Axel?”
Her father walked over to the file cabinet, opened the drawer, and pulled out a thin folder. He tossed it onto the desk.
“His file. Or what’s left of it.”
Amara opened it.
It was nearly empty. A single photo paper-clipped to a burned edge. A few lines about disciplinary actions. But the rest of it—scorched. As if someone had tried to destroy it.
“What happened to this?” she asked quietly.
“No one knows. It disappeared last year during the office fire. We only recovered pieces. But what’s missing is worse than what’s here. Trust me.”
She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. The photo stared up at her—Axel in sophomore year. Younger. Less hardened. But the same eyes.
The same storm.
***
By lunch, the whole school was buzzing again.
“Did you see who Axel was talking to?”
“Apparently he’s got a thing for the principal’s daughter now.”
“He probably just wants to mess with her.”
Amara shoved her tray aside and sank into her usual seat beside Zoe.
Zoe glanced at her. “You okay?”
“Nope.”
“You look like someone who’s either planning a murder or trying to remember one.”
“That’s… not far off.”
Zoe raised a brow. “Spill.”
Amara hesitated, then leaned in. “What do you know about Axel’s expulsion?”
Zoe blinked. “You mean *the* mystery that’s haunted this school since last year? No one really knows. Some say he beat up a teacher. Others say he was framed.”
“Framed?”
“Yeah. Word is he took the fall for someone else. But Axel never talks, so it stayed buried.”
Buried.
Just like whatever her father wouldn’t tell her.
Before Amara could respond, a shadow fell over their table.
She looked up—and there he was.
Axel.
Tall. Silent. Watching her like he was waiting for something again.
“Walk with me,” he said.
Zoe looked at her like *do not say yes*, but Amara was already getting up.
Something about Axel wasn’t just intimidating—it was magnetic. Like he had answers no one else did.
***
They walked in silence until they reached the back of the school, near the old gym building where no one went during lunch.
Amara crossed her arms. “What do you want?”
Axel leaned against the wall. “You don’t remember me. That’s clear now.”
“I already said that.”
He studied her face like he didn’t believe her. “Then let me remind you.”
He pulled something out of his jacket and handed it to her.
A photo.
A group shot—taken outside some kind of foster home. Kids lined up. Some smiling. Others not.
There, near the back, was a girl with tangled hair and oversized glasses.
Amara’s breath caught.
It was her.
“You were there too?” she whispered.
“I wasn’t just there,” Axel said quietly. “We were in the same house. Same hell.”
The memories crashed over her like cold water.
She’d blocked it out—those few months after her mom died, before her dad fought to get custody back. The group home. The fights. The fear.
She hadn’t remembered Axel. Not until now.
“You protected me,” she said, voice shaking.
“For a while,” he said. “Until they split us up.”
Amara looked at him. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I wanted to see if you remembered. Clearly, you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I blocked all of that out.”
“I know. But I didn’t.”
She swallowed. “What happened after they split us up?”
Axel looked away. “Bad things.”
A pause.
Then he turned back to her. “Someone in this school was there too. Someone who did things they got away with. I came back to make sure that ends.”
Amara’s blood ran cold. “Who?”
He stared at her. “You already know.”
And suddenly, Amara wasn’t sure if she was afraid of Axel—or of the secret they were about to uncover together.
- Writer
