I didn't go to school. I couldn't. The Algebra II exam, my perfect attendance record, my entire mundane morning routine - all of it felt cheap and insignificant compared to the brittle photograph I was now gripping. I slipped the photo into the pocket of my jeans and walked, not toward my school, but back toward my house.
I found my dad, Mark Hayes, was scrolling through his newsfeed, and my mom, Jessica, was sipping coffee, looking relaxed after her successful morning after sending me off.
"I missed the exam," I announced, my voice flat, holding back the tremor I felt inside. My mom sighed, putting down her mug.
"Luna, I told you to get up earlier! That's going to be a huge hit on your grades."
"I don't care," I said, pulling the wrinkled photo from my pocket and slapping it onto the breakfast counter between them. "Who is this man? And why is he wearing the same pin my grandmother Rose had in her old chest?."
Both of my parents froze for a second. My dad's thumb stopped mid-scroll, and my mom's hand paused inches from her mug. The casual morning calm vanished, replaced by a sudden, heavy silence that felt thicker than fog.
My dad cleared his throat, leaning to squint at the faded image. "Where did you get this, Luna?". His tone wasn't angry; it was guarded, a little wary.
"I found it near the school on a fence post. Someone put it there," I said, watching their faces for any crack in their composure. "Who is 'The Observer'? It's written on the back in Grandma Rose's handwriting. Tell me."
My mom gently picked up the photograph. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes, usually warm and open, were now clouded with a look I couldn't decipher - part sadness, part steel.
"This is an old photo, honey," she said slowly, her voice carefully measured. "A very distant relative of your grandmother's. Someone from before the family came to the States. It has nothing to do with you, or with us. Just an old memory."
"A relative with the same exact green eyes as the man in my dream last night?" I shot back.
"The man who cast no shadow? The one who looked perfect but empty?"
My dad finally spoke, placing his hand firmly on my mom's shoulder. "That's enough, Luna. It was a coincidence. A dream is a dream. Rose was a private woman. There are some parts of her past that are best left alone. You need to focus on your schoolwork, not on ghost stories from seventy years ago."
He took the photo gently from my mother's hand and slipped it into his own pocket. "Go change. We'll call the school about the exam."
They were shutting me out. The finality in my dad's voice was absolute. They looked at me with a practiced, united front -- a shield of parental authority meant to deflect any further questions. They simply would not, or perhaps could not, tell me the truth. Dejected and feeling more confused than ever, I slowly turned and walked back up to my room.