Raveling You
Page 21
Ayden: Yeah, I’m fine. Just resting now.
Me: At your house?
Ayden: Yeah.
Me: By yourself?
Ayden: I’m with Kale. Lila and Ethan just took Fiona and Everson to soccer practice.
Me: Want some company? I’m super bored.
Ayden: Lila actually told me I couldn’t have anyone over.
Me: But I’m not just anyone. I’m your best friend.
Ayden: Sorry.
Sorry? What is that? A brush off or something?
Before I can think about it too deeply, Ayden walks out of his house and hurries down the driveway toward the sidewalk. His hood is down, and he keeps peering around as if he’s nervous. When his eyes land on my window, I duck for cover and peer over the windowsill.
He lied to me again, snuck out of the house again.
“That little liar,” I mutter as he veers right toward the end of the block, the same direction he wandered up from the other night when he snuck out.
Even though it might be wrong, I make the choice to tail him, worried he might be in trouble. Worried he’ll blackout again like he did earlier. More than that, I’m just generally worried about him.
I snatch my leather jacket from my bedpost then run downstairs and out the door. I slip on my jacket as I jog across my lawn and turn right when I reach the sidewalk. I can’t see him anywhere, so I pick up the pace, sprinting to the end of the street. Glancing left then right, I finally spot him crossing the street in a hurry.
Hunching down, I race after him, zigzagging behind trees and parked cars, trying to stay out of sight as much as I can. I check left and right before I dash across the street and hunker down behind a chain link fence near the park as Ayden slips through the gate.
I count to five under my breath then stand up and peek over the fence, crossing my fingers, hoping he hasn’t spotted me.
He’s striding across the grass toward the playground. No one is around, except a guy perched in the middle of the merry-go-round. As Ayden approaches him, the guy hops to the ground. They meet under an oak tree and start talking about something, their lips moving as they huddle together. Then Ayden sticks his hand into his pocket and retrieves a silver object out that looks like a knife.
Something snaps inside me. Worry, fear, anger—perhaps a mixture of all three. Without any forethought, I leave my hiding spot, march through the gates and toward Ayden and his friend.
The guy spots me first. He says something, and Ayden reels around. Shock crosses his face, and he quickly shoves the object back into his pocket.
“Oh, don’t stop whatever you’re doing on my account,” I say to Ayden as I reach the two of them. Up close, I get a better look at the guy. Lanky and on the younger side, with squared framed glasses and a pen tucked in the front pocket of his plaid shirt, he looks kind of nerdy. “What’s going on?” My gaze travels back and forth between the two of them
“That’s none of your damn business, little girl,” the scrawny guy states, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at me.
“Little girl?” I mimic his move, folding my arms. Then I arch a brow and stare him down until he squirms. “Look, I think we both know I could kick your ass, so there’s no use trying to be all badass.” I turn to Ayden who’s all squirrely himself. “What’s going on?” The only thing keeping me calm is that maybe he has a good reason for lying to me. “Why are you sneaking off,” I nod my head at the other guy, “to meet him?”
Ayden gulps. “Lyric, you need to go home. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Ouch. That stings.” I press my hand to my chest, noting that it actually does ache.
“I’m sorry, but you do.” His eyes narrow. “Wait. How did you even find me?”
“I followed you here when I saw you leaving the house after you texted me, telling me you had to stay in,” I say coldly, shocking both him and myself. I hardly ever get angry, but right now, frustration simmers under my skin. “I’m sorry for getting snippy, but I’m worried about you, and until I’m not worried about you, I’m not leaving.”
“Look, I know this seems a little sketchy, but I’m keeping you out of the loop for a reason.” With a glance at the guy, his fingers circle my arm, and he steers me toward the gate. “You need to leave before you get into trouble.”
I dig my heels into the ground. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Is that what this is about? Because I can help you if you are. But you have to tell me what’s going on or else I can’t do anything for you.”
“I’m not in trouble.” He withdraws his hand from my arm then rakes his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t want you involved in this. If you knew what I was doing, you wouldn’t want to, either.”
“Well, tell me and I’ll let you know if you’re right.”
He blows out a breath, his hand falling to his side. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise that, as soon as I do, you’ll leave.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to promise that.”
We silently stare at each other while the wind howls and kicks dead leaves across the dry grass and around our feet.
“It’s about my sister,” he finally surrenders.
My heart misses a beat. I wasn’t expecting that.
“What about your sister? Is she in trouble?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He peeks over at the guy, who is texting on his phone, and then leans in and lowers his voice. “Today at the police station, I saw a letter in one of the files that was from my sister. When I asked the detective about it, he told me it wasn’t any of my business.”
Me: At your house?
Ayden: Yeah.
Me: By yourself?
Ayden: I’m with Kale. Lila and Ethan just took Fiona and Everson to soccer practice.
Me: Want some company? I’m super bored.
Ayden: Lila actually told me I couldn’t have anyone over.
Me: But I’m not just anyone. I’m your best friend.
Ayden: Sorry.
Sorry? What is that? A brush off or something?
Before I can think about it too deeply, Ayden walks out of his house and hurries down the driveway toward the sidewalk. His hood is down, and he keeps peering around as if he’s nervous. When his eyes land on my window, I duck for cover and peer over the windowsill.
He lied to me again, snuck out of the house again.
“That little liar,” I mutter as he veers right toward the end of the block, the same direction he wandered up from the other night when he snuck out.
Even though it might be wrong, I make the choice to tail him, worried he might be in trouble. Worried he’ll blackout again like he did earlier. More than that, I’m just generally worried about him.
I snatch my leather jacket from my bedpost then run downstairs and out the door. I slip on my jacket as I jog across my lawn and turn right when I reach the sidewalk. I can’t see him anywhere, so I pick up the pace, sprinting to the end of the street. Glancing left then right, I finally spot him crossing the street in a hurry.
Hunching down, I race after him, zigzagging behind trees and parked cars, trying to stay out of sight as much as I can. I check left and right before I dash across the street and hunker down behind a chain link fence near the park as Ayden slips through the gate.
I count to five under my breath then stand up and peek over the fence, crossing my fingers, hoping he hasn’t spotted me.
He’s striding across the grass toward the playground. No one is around, except a guy perched in the middle of the merry-go-round. As Ayden approaches him, the guy hops to the ground. They meet under an oak tree and start talking about something, their lips moving as they huddle together. Then Ayden sticks his hand into his pocket and retrieves a silver object out that looks like a knife.
Something snaps inside me. Worry, fear, anger—perhaps a mixture of all three. Without any forethought, I leave my hiding spot, march through the gates and toward Ayden and his friend.
The guy spots me first. He says something, and Ayden reels around. Shock crosses his face, and he quickly shoves the object back into his pocket.
“Oh, don’t stop whatever you’re doing on my account,” I say to Ayden as I reach the two of them. Up close, I get a better look at the guy. Lanky and on the younger side, with squared framed glasses and a pen tucked in the front pocket of his plaid shirt, he looks kind of nerdy. “What’s going on?” My gaze travels back and forth between the two of them
“That’s none of your damn business, little girl,” the scrawny guy states, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at me.
“Little girl?” I mimic his move, folding my arms. Then I arch a brow and stare him down until he squirms. “Look, I think we both know I could kick your ass, so there’s no use trying to be all badass.” I turn to Ayden who’s all squirrely himself. “What’s going on?” The only thing keeping me calm is that maybe he has a good reason for lying to me. “Why are you sneaking off,” I nod my head at the other guy, “to meet him?”
Ayden gulps. “Lyric, you need to go home. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Ouch. That stings.” I press my hand to my chest, noting that it actually does ache.
“I’m sorry, but you do.” His eyes narrow. “Wait. How did you even find me?”
“I followed you here when I saw you leaving the house after you texted me, telling me you had to stay in,” I say coldly, shocking both him and myself. I hardly ever get angry, but right now, frustration simmers under my skin. “I’m sorry for getting snippy, but I’m worried about you, and until I’m not worried about you, I’m not leaving.”
“Look, I know this seems a little sketchy, but I’m keeping you out of the loop for a reason.” With a glance at the guy, his fingers circle my arm, and he steers me toward the gate. “You need to leave before you get into trouble.”
I dig my heels into the ground. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Is that what this is about? Because I can help you if you are. But you have to tell me what’s going on or else I can’t do anything for you.”
“I’m not in trouble.” He withdraws his hand from my arm then rakes his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t want you involved in this. If you knew what I was doing, you wouldn’t want to, either.”
“Well, tell me and I’ll let you know if you’re right.”
He blows out a breath, his hand falling to his side. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise that, as soon as I do, you’ll leave.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to promise that.”
We silently stare at each other while the wind howls and kicks dead leaves across the dry grass and around our feet.
“It’s about my sister,” he finally surrenders.
My heart misses a beat. I wasn’t expecting that.
“What about your sister? Is she in trouble?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He peeks over at the guy, who is texting on his phone, and then leans in and lowers his voice. “Today at the police station, I saw a letter in one of the files that was from my sister. When I asked the detective about it, he told me it wasn’t any of my business.”
