There’s bitterness to his tone. Leo could fit in if he wanted. In fact, he used to fit in, but literally one day, out of nowhere in middle school he moved from a lunch table overflowing with people to sitting at the loner table across from me. My life changed then. For the better and I’m grateful.
The sound of pebbles bouncing along the floor of the empty sanatarium causes all of us to turn our heads. I strain to see into the darkness, eager to catch a sight of the shadow figures people have talked about online. Leo moves closer to a window then gives me a wide grin. “Want to go in with me?”
I’d love to, but the annoying giggles from below keep me rooted in place. I shake my head, and Leo disappears through the floor-to-ceiling window and into the darkness.
To be honest, Leo could have rocked smart, cool-boy overachiever. A part of me believes that’s who he’ll become in college, and that’s why he’ll forget me. With Leo now a safe distance away, I finally release the air I had been holding. Nazareth gives me a concerned glance as he takes the spot beside me Leo abandoned.
“How are you?” he asks in that quiet way of his.
Only my closest friends are aware that pain is a part of my life. Sort of like how my arms and legs are attached to my body. But today is a good day and the pain level is minimal. More like a shadow of a memory of what it could become. “I’m migraine free.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Nazareth swings his gaze from me to where Leo disappeared, and my chest aches.
I’m in love with Leo, and Leo doesn’t know. Nazareth does. Jesse, too. Some days I wonder if I’m that good at hiding my emotions from Leo. Other days I wonder if Leo is blind. “I don’t want him to go.”
“Do you want him to stay?”
I shake my head. I’d never clip anyone’s wings. Especially Leo’s.
Nazareth pats my knee, and with that one touch, I lean into him and place my head on his shoulder. Nazareth is like my security blanket I used to drag around with me when I was a child. I’m not into him, and he’s not into me so we’re safe and easy with each other.
A ladybug walks along an overgrown bush close to us and it’s clear she’s headed for a spider’s web. Nazareth, of course, reaches over and lets the ladybug walk onto his finger before gently depositing her onto the rock wall beside him. I smile; there’s such a gentleness to Nazareth I’m not sure exists in anyone else. He literally lives the phrase do no harm.
“What about nature’s balance?” I ask. “Didn’t you just starve the spider?”
“The spider already has a meal and one waiting. She doesn’t need three.”
Because Nazareth is not only the kind of guy who cares to know what markings make a spider a male or female, but he also cares enough about a ladybug to save the day. Sure enough, the spider is weaving a web around a struggling fly and there’s another fly caught in her sticky nest waiting for its turn to be spun.
Ice-pick pain spikes through my brain, and I shut my eyes and wince.
“V?” concern oozes from Nazareth’s quiet tone.
Though the pain of that spike still reverberates through my skull, I force myself to lift my head and smile at my friend. “What?”
“You flinched.”
“I yawned.” My vision doubles and it takes a moment before the world refocuses. This is why I refuse to drive. I tell Dad it’s because we don’t need the additional cost of insurance, especially when living in the center of a small town, I can easily bum a ride or walk. But it’s really because headaches like this can hit fast, and I don’t want to ever cause an accident.
Nazareth broadcasts his doubt rather loudly through his tense jaw, but he does what I need and lets it go.
“I have an idea for our senior thesis,” I say, ignoring the baby tremors of aches rolling through my brain. “It’s a crazy idea, but I love it.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Because crazy is who I am.
“I’m thinking we center our project on ghosts. Urban legends. Kentucky ones to be specific. It’ll meet all the requirements we need to hit.” I stick out a finger as I tick off each of the “rules” of the game our teachers have created. “We’ll have to do extensive research, so we’ll research the legends. We have to visit areas that deal with our project, so we’ll visit the haunted spots. We have to conduct interviews, so we’ll—”
“V,” Nazareth interrupts me, which he rarely does. I fall silent, and it’s weird that he won’t meet my eyes.
“What?”
Nazareth rests his arms on his legs then joins his fingers together. For each beat of time that passes my stomach turns like the spin cycle of a washing machine.
“Because I’m on an accelerated schedule, they had me do my senior thesis last year. I thought they’d let me do the thesis again and I’d partner with you, but they said no. I’m to focus on my college courses. I’m sorry, V. I’ll help you if you want, but…”
But the project requires us to work in a group of two to four people and Nazareth won’t count. My inhale rattles through me as I’m hollowed out. Jesse has graduated and is focused on his farm, Scarlett is already at college, Leo is leaving and Nazareth might as well be gone. The worst has happened. I’m going to be alone.
SAWYER
It’s been weeks since I’ve had a release, and I’m wound damn tight. I glance around the huge monster of the building searching for something to impress me. Something to take my mind off the fact my cast will be off tomorrow and there will be nothing stopping me from seeking my high.
Here’s the thing about the high: I want it as much as I don’t. A constant push and pull, and I’m always on the losing end. I don’t want to give in to the need for the high and disappoint and endanger myself. At the same time, just the thought of the high relaxes some of my always-twisted muscles. If the thought alone relaxes me, then doing it would be close to heaven.
Won’t lie, part of the reason I suggested we all hike up here was in the hopes of finding a hint of the rush, but unfortunately, there isn’t enough danger.
The guys fan out and start for the stairs that lead to the front door of the place. They’re a mixture of the swim and soccer teams, and they’re discussing a combination of baseball, football and Call of Duty. Miguel, the guy I’m closest with, is the one that leads the conversation and is the most opinionated.
Sylvia slides up beside me. With her comes the group of girls that follows her most everywhere she goes. Sylvia is a pied piper of people—just like my mom. I understand why—there’s something about her that draws me in, like a light, and that’s why she’s one of the few I call friend.
I know a lot of people. A lot of people know me, and while I can put on a show that I’m outgoing, I consider myself private.
Sylvia stays by me as her friends follow the guys through the hole where glass for a window used to be. She tucks her honey-blond hair with done-by-hand curls behind her shoulder.
As she always does, she looks good. She wears designer jeans and a purple top that hugs all the right places. All bought on a shopping day with her mom, Hannah, my mom and Lucy. Not exactly hiking clothes, but it’s not like she knew we would be tackling this adventure when she showed. In my defense, it’s not like I invited anyone over—that would be Mom ignoring my request to give me some time to unpack. Mom feels I need to be social, twenty-four/seven, so she texted Sylvia, telling her to bring my “squad.”