Aiden shifted restlessly around the house, unable to settle. His wake was littered with discarded books, open CD cases and food wrappers. He checked his watch, for the third time in as many minutes and sighed. Still no sign of Brendan, he was running late; very late as a matter of fact. A tiny voice scratched at the back of Aiden's brain muttering that something was wrong. He rose and went to the phone, dialling the number that Brendan had stuck above it, on a yellow post-it note, the last time he had been home. The phone rang for a long time before someone answered. A bleary female voice spoke, “Hello?”. Aiden frowned, it took a moment to place the voice, “Jessica?” “Yeah, who is it?” The voice asked. “It's Aiden, Brendan's brother,” he told her. “Oh, he's not here.” She paused, as if her brain was waking up. “Isn't he with you? He was going home this weekend.” “No, he hasn't arrived.” “Oh,” she fell quiet again. “He probably...