Mom had gotten to bed without me, and I didn’t want to talk too loudly just in case.
“You’re welcome,” he said, eyes flickering as if he were searching my face for something.
I reached up to pull my window closed, but he put out a hand to stop me. “Listen, what are you doing tomorrow?”
I felt my breath catch in my throat, but I tried to act nonchalant. “The plan right now is to take some Advil and sleep for hours. After that?” I shrugged.
“Do you want to go to the boardwalk with me in the morning?”
“Okay,” I said automatically. My face felt hot, and I hoped if it was red, he’d just chalk it up to the long night and nothing more. Even though I was starting to think it was more. Every time his mossy eyes looked right at me, I felt a little rush inside my chest.
“I thought we could talk more about this. I really want to know what’s going on after everything that’s happened. I know you don’t like to share, but I think I have a right to know.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, my heart sinking a little. He just wanted to talk, not hang out because he thought I looked cute with my rumpled clothes and bruised wrists. Because really, who would? “That works.”
“Okay, see ya.” He pushed away from the window. “I’m heading home to crash.”
Crashing sounded like an excellent idea. I closed my window and went to check if Mom had found her way to bed. When I heard her steady breathing through her closed door, I shuffled back to my bedroom, stripped off my dirty clothes, jumped into my comfiest pair of sweats and snuggled under the covers.
A moment later, I slithered out from under my duvet. I tugged the trunk from its spot and pulled it open. I sat back on my heels, pencil poised over the paper, and tried to remember the address from the shaman’s electric bill I’d discovered.
And found I hadn’t memorized it. My mind was blank.
I slapped my palm against my forehead and jerked from the pain that radiated from the spot where my hand met my skull.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why couldn’t I ever remember important information?
My first real lead in what felt like a gazillion years, and I couldn’t recall a damn thing.
CHAPTER 11
I padded into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. Mom was sitting in the living room; the old stereo played a blues album she loved. The melancholy chords brought back the vision of Mom and Dad dancing to this music, swaying, laughing and making travel plans to Brazil, France or wherever else struck their fancy. Neither of them liked putting down roots.
After I started a pot of coffee, I went to her side, happy to see she’d gotten up on her own.
“I’m sorry for getting in late last night,” I said. “I lost track of time.”
She didn’t say anything. My shoulders slumped. I hated lying to her, and Mom always used the silent treatment when she was mad. Could she be mad, like this? I wondered how deep her emotions could go when she was barely even aware of the world.
“Anyway, I have some errands to run today.” I glanced at the clock. It was way too early to be awake on a Saturday, but I didn’t think I could sleep any more, not knowing those shamans were out there hurting so many people.
After downing some cereal and a cup of coffee, I took a hot shower. I still felt a little shaky from last night, but the sleep and food made me feel alive again. I dried my hair and threw on a pair of jeans before eyeing my boring closet. My thoughts turned to Nathan. To his smile and the way he’d looked at me over the foosball table. Maybe we should change that. I let out a slow breath through my teeth. I could wear one of my few nicer shirts even though they never really seemed to feel right against my skin. Kylie always dressed like she belonged walking the sidewalks in some trendy part of Manhattan…I shook my head. I wasn’t Kylie, and I never would be. Besides, I was only meeting Nathan at the boardwalk to talk about shamans and spirits. So, I grabbed a t-shirt and shrugged it over my head.
When I headed back into the kitchen with my old laptop, Mom still sat in the corner staring out the window. I wanted to