Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,37
pit grows in my stomach. Do I know him? Yes, you feel it in the essence of your soul.
Fourteen
Liz Wiz… Liz Wiz… Liz Wiz…
I jolt awake, sitting upright and reaching out, grasping air. My lost boy haunted my dreams last night. Guilt for what happened in the hallway burrowed deep and seeped out into my sleeping consciousness. My lips still feel bruised, and there’s this swirling in my gut I can’t control. I wish I didn’t have to dream...or could become the architect of them.
I stare up at the ceiling, picturing Green Eyes, aka Clark, lying right above me. Are his lips still vibrating too?
“You going to stop being a brat?” Charlotte calls through the door to my room.
Getting up, I pull open my door to her pouting face. “You’re an ass,” I scold.
“You’re sensitive.” She bops me on the nose.
“That’s not an insult, and please don’t touch me with those fingers.” I shudder.
Tilting her head back, she says, “Huh, okay, you’re a bitch.”
I flip her a finger and push past her to pee. “Is Paul gone?”
She follows me into the bathroom and begins brushing her teeth. “Yeah. No sleepovers. What’s the deal with sexy face being the new neighbor?” She rolls her eyes to the back of her head and makes a scene of deep throating her toothbrush.
“He kissed me,” I announce, pulling my panties up and flushing.
“What the fuck?” she exclaims, spitting in the sink and gaping at me, toothpaste foam dripping.
Nudging her out the way with my hip, I wash my hands and take my own toothbrush. “It’s weird, right? Like who the hell is this guy and why are things so…so…”
“Hot?” she teases, fanning her face.
“Intense,” I finish, pulling her hand down.
“Maybe because you’re all dark and broody and some weirdos seek out other weirdos to be weird and intense with?”
Narrowing my eyes, I give her a tight smile. “Thanks, that’s helpful.”
“Why do you have to dissect and put a reason to everything? Just let him deflower you already.”
“I’m not a virgin,” I snap.
“Well, tell that to your vagina. That girl has probably healed back over.”
“That’s not how it works, asshole.”
She places a hand on my shoulder. “After everything that’s happened, I say take the small wins.” She squeezes before adding, “And the big ones. I bet that guy is packing.” Why can she not just be normal for one conversation? She wrinkles her nose, looking around me to the toilet. “Did you poop?”
“Gross. No.”
“What the hell is that smell then?”
She’s right. That awful smell is back. “I think there’s a blockage in the drain.”
“I know a plumber,” she sighs, wiping her mouth with a towel. “I’ll call him.”
“The landlord should sort this crap out,” I groan, shutting the door behind us so the smell does seep into the rest of the apartment.
“We’ll have to wait a month before that douchebag will get anyone here,” she calls out from her room as she disappears inside. “I know a guy—and it will be free.”
“Will it?” I raise a brow, poking my head into her room.
“He likes me.” She shakes her ass at me.
God, I wish I didn’t have to know about the favors she pays off with her vagina.
“I’m late.” She’s out her door, hopping while putting on her shoe. She kisses my cheek and bounces off. “See you later at work.”
School is the last place I want to go today, but I need to get out of this apartment and stop overthinking about what Detective Hernandez said about it being my blood on the rose petal. I look at my palm. The scabs are almost healed. I pricked my finger on a thorn, but how could the blood have come from that? I’m losing my mind. I slip on a pair of jeans and one of the tops I washed yesterday, inhaling the flowery scent. Faltering at my dresser to look at the photo of me, Jack, and his mother taken barely a week before everything turned red, memories cutting into me like blades of a knife. I miss you, I say internally, stroking over Jack’s face with the pad of my finger before, turning my head up to the ceiling. I haven’t heard Clark moving around this morning. Maybe he’s sleeping in. Placing the photo against the mirror, I give myself an internal pep talk. Today is going to be a good day. Believe it and it shall come to pass.
Pushing out into the street, my feet root to the spot, and I almost stop