The voicemail

He hit the button and impatiently navigated the menus to hear it.

The voice wasn't familiar, but it helped that the man began the call with "Son". Several times.

"Son. Connor, my son. Yes, this is your father, of course. Son, Carol told me you'll see me at the airport tomorrow. Remember it's a morning flight - I should clear Arrivals at about 10. But son, it's important that you meet me, I've got some urgent things to tell you. It's a bit late, I guess, but it might clear up some weirdness that might already be manifesting. I'll tell you more tomorrow - I shouldn't even leave this much in a message. Delete it once you've heard it. Son, I hope I'm not too late, and I know you're a good man, so this shouldn't be a problem."

Connor listened to it twice more before finally deleting it. Weirder and weirder!

He slumped against the wall, holding his head in his hands, trying to make sense of it. Finally, a rumble in his stomach coincided with the bell ringing for the end of class. As students streamed past him, he decided to go with the flow and hit the lunch hall.

He entered, grabbed a tray and filled with industrial quality state-mandated teenager feed. Looking around until he found Joan and Alison already sitting together but otherwise alone, Connor was surprised to find himself hesitate for a moment. He ate with them almost every lunch, and he wondered that one odd morning could make such a difference. As he navigated through the tables to join them, he heard a voice pipe up.

"Hey, Connor! Come sit with us."