Starlee's Turn (The Wayward Sons 2) - Page 84
Once the Jeep is out and facing the right direction we get in, boys in the back, me in the front, and no one speaks until we’re back out on the main road. The police vehicle turns right and Dexter turns left. Once they’re out of sight, Jake says, “That was really weird, right?”
“Super weird,” Dexter agrees.
“Did that lady say anything to you in the back?” Charlie asks. “You guys were back there for a while.”
I stare out at the snow-covered world and swallow. “No. Just the same stuff. I guess she was making sure I wasn’t stealing anything.” I don’t know why I don’t tell them about what she said. It’d probably crush them.
We slowly make the drive back to Lee Vines and prepare for talking to Leelee and Sierra. No one had done anything wrong, but it didn’t feel that way.
Just like the last time I drove home from Dexter’s cabin, I had the feeling something big was on the way. I just didn’t know what.
42
Starlee
Although Leelee and Sierra were worried, at first there’s little fallout from the five of us staying out overnight. The storm was considered freak—coming out of nowhere. We certainly weren’t the only ones caught off guard.
“You nearly gave us a heart attack,” Sierra says when we pull up to the house. She drags each boy into a hug. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you being lost on the road. After I called a couple of your classmates, I remembered the tracker on your phone. It showed you out in the middle of nowhere but close enough to the cabin that I figured you made it there safely. That being said, I was two minutes from calling the highway patrol when you pulled up.”
“We’re fine. Left a bit of a mess at the cabin but nothing that can’t be easily fixed,” Dexter says. “We left in a bit of a rush.” Sierra frowns. “Tell you later—after a shower and some food, okay?”
“So. Freaking. Hungry,” George says rubbing his belly.
“Thank you for getting Starlee back home safe,” Leelee said to the boys, giving each her own hug.
“Our number one priority.” Jake rubs his neck and blushes.
We part ways in the driveway and I wrap my arms around Leelee’s shoulder as we walk up to the house. She squeezes back and says, “I may finally have to break down and get us some cell phones. That tracker thing came in handy.”
I shower while Leelee makes breakfast, and after that I sleep for several hours. I don’t waste the day, though. We have two days of exams before Thanksgiving break.
It’s not until Monday during lunch that I realize something’s wrong.
“I got a text from Sierra,” Dexter says in a low voice, making sure no one else can hear. “Child Services showed up at the house today.”
“What?” George asks. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Home visit? My social worker said to expect one but the timing seems weird.”
We were all a bit unnerved by the police showing up the other day. Grateful they helped us out, but the accusations of a break-in and then the comments the female officer made to me were strange. After lunch, I pull Dex aside and tell him about the conversation I had in his parents’ bedroom.
“She thought you were being held against your will?” His eyes darken with worry.
“She asked. I mean, I guess maybe it’s standard in a situation like that.” Although the officer said the “caller” mentioned I may be in trouble. At the time I thought Sierra was the one looking for us. Or maybe Leelee, but now I know better. They’d never accuse them anyway.
“No one knew we were up there. Or lost.”
A peal of laughter echoed off the lockers and we both glanced down the hall at the same time. Christina.
“Sierra said she called some classmates. Could she be one of them?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes narrow in thought just as the bell rang. “We’ll talk later.”
Later doesn’t happen, though. I’m standing in the lodge registration office helping Leelee with tree lighting prep when Ms. DeLange shows up that afternoon. Five minutes later, she walks out with the twins. They get in the back of her car—neither look happy about it.
I ask George about it the next day in art. He’s in the final prep stages to turn in his portfolio and obsessing over which pieces to add. “What do you think? The portrait or the landscape?” he asks, flipping between two ink wash drawings.
“I like them both.” He gives me a look that tells me I’m not being helpful. “But, I do like the portrait of Sierra. You really captured her personality.”
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