Sheldon
Sheldon slung his backpack over his shoulder and closed the front door on his way out. His foster mother bit her lip as she watched after him.
He began down the street, kicking small stones out of the way on his way to the nearby skate park.
Finding a bench that overlooked the whole park, he sat the watch the younger boys messing around.
"Heard about Tay, Sheldie," came a voice above him.
He looked up to see a small grey squirrel sitting on a branch above his head.
"Yeah," he sighed, scratching his head.
"His brovos have gone lookin'."
"Yeah I know," Sheldon leant forward.
The squirrel leapt down onto his shoulder.
"They shoulda been back."
"Know that too."
"Worry?"
"Of course I'm worried," Sheldon insisted, "Tay's the only person I can talk to without every other being overhearing the conversation."
"He friend. Two too."
"Yeah, Zac too. But so is Ike. Just not on the same scale," Sheldon smiled slightly.
He hesitated, before opening his backpack and pulling out a couple of sultanas. He held them out on the palm of his hand for the squirrel to eat.
"Thanks Sheldie. Luck."
"Thanks Hibba."
The squirrel touched his hand with her nose before taking off into the tree again.
Sheldon watched her leave, then looked back out at the skaters.
"And what the hell has happened to Chris...?" he wondered to himself.