Lost Boys (Slateview High 1)

Bzzz… Bzzz… Bzzz…

Guilt twisted my stomach, but I ignored it as I repeated the number that displayed under Flint’s name over and over in my head until the phone finally stopped ringing.

Then I took in a breath, steeled myself, and went back inside.

Thirty

I didn’t eat that night.

If Mom noticed that I hadn’t been home since the previous evening, or that I didn’t arrive back to the rental house until mid-afternoon, she didn’t say anything. Given the way she had acted toward Bish, I had a feeling she would’ve lectured me if she had any idea where I’d been. But she really didn’t know. Although she wasn’t as listless as she’d been before her overdose, she was still massively checked out in a lot of ways.

Maybe as an attempt at a peace offering, she ordered delivery for dinner, something we could only afford to do once every several weeks. Whether I was prepared to accept her peace offering or not hardly mattered, because I didn’t have an appetite.

I couldn’t get Flint’s number out of my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I was close, so close to getting answers.

And yet… something held me back from typing the number into my phone, from calling him and begging him to speak with me.

I should’ve been thrilled to have found his number and to have a way to get in touch with him. It was an in, and I was grateful for it, but the seed of guilt I’d felt earlier in Bishop’s car hadn’t died. Instead, it was growing and growing. What did it say about me that I was so desperate to make my life “normal” again when there were things about this new life that I liked? All day, my mind had been filled with thoughts of how the Lost Boys had looked after me while I was here. How much things between us had changed since our first meeting. How important they all were to me.

Was it selfish to still be thinking of my father? Of a life I was coming to realize was stifling in a way I hadn’t known until it was taken away from me?

Mom finally gave up trying to get me to eat the food she’d ordered, and we both retreated to our rooms. I heard the TV in her bedroom turn off at around eleven, but even after I turned off the lights and crawled into bed, sleep wouldn’t come.

As I stared up at the ceiling, dozens of thoughts whirling in my head, there was a soft tap at my window. At one point in my life, it would’ve made me jump. Now, it didn’t even phase me. I assumed it was Bishop, and a grin tugged at my lips as I had the ridiculous thought that he was becoming more polite—actually knocking on my window before breaking in. But when I slipped out of bed and crossed toward the small window, I drew up short, blinking in surprise.

It wasn’t Bish.

It was Kace.

“Hey—hey, what’s up?” I opened the window for him since it was easier to do from the inside and instinctively went to my bedroom door, clicking the lock to it. At least if Mother heard something, she wouldn’t be able to just burst in without a bit of warning beforehand.

Kace climbed in, and I padded back over to sit on the edge of my bed. He stepped forward from the window, coming to stand almost directly in front of me, and with him so close, I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. He looked down at me, head tilted, muscled arms crossed. His white-blond hair shone in the faint street light that penetrated the grungy window, and he looked beautiful and dangerous—and completely out of his element.

I was about to ask him if he was okay when he opened his mouth and spoke.

“Is something wrong?” he asked bluntly.

I blinked. I was about to ask you that.

“Um. What?”

He sighed, the taut lines of his shoulders softening a little.

“Earlier today. When you came back from bringing Bishop his phone. You seemed off. You alright?”

My jaw dropped open slightly, and I let out a short breath. That was why he looked so unsure and stiff—he’d come to check on me. I didn’t think this kind of thing was really in his wheelhouse. Touchy-feely wasn’t a word anyone would ever use to describe this boy. The fact that he’d not only noticed the difference in my behavior but had decided to come make sure I was okay made something warm and sweet expand in my chest.

Kace shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. I bit my lip, patting the space beside me on the mattress. He looked at it for a moment, then sank down to sit next to me, his large, solid body so close that his shoulder brushed against mine.

“I was just thinking a lot about my father today,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. I had been thinking about him a lot. “It just hit me suddenly and kind of… hasn’t left me since. That’s all. I’ll probably get over it.”

Kace was quiet. When I looked to him, he was staring down at his hands, his splayed fingers pressed together. He was thinking hard about something, but I couldn’t begin to guess what.

“Do you miss him?” he asked suddenly.

“Do I miss my father? Of course I do.” Then, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, a sigh followed. “I mean, I think I do. Sometimes I’m not sure what my feelings are, really. I think… I don’t know. Yeah, I miss him. I do.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”