The house loomed with a few lights.
Wyatt jumped from the car, which shook as Stuart yanked the parking brake in place. Smooth-soled shoes slipped against the concrete before Wyatt ran to the front door.
He rang the bell, pounded his fist. “Mira! Mira, it’s Wyatt!”
Stuart caught up to him as the door opened.
“What happened? Why did she leave? Where is she?” Wyatt tried to walk around Jack, who held his position in the frame, arms folded across his chest.
“She can’t see you right now.”
“Why?” Wyatt’s words burst forth. “Why not?” Fury coated his words.
“She just can’t.” Jack’s voice held an unemotional calm. “And she’ll be gone tomorrow. I’m sorry, man.”
“That’s shit!” Wyatt stormed away and back. “I want to see her now!” Fists at his sides, Wyatt raised himself to his full height and still didn’t reach Jack’s nose.
He didn’t budge, but behind him, Leena peeked out.
“Leena… where is she?” His resolve lost in the face of a friend, he softened and moved toward her.
She snuck out from underneath Jack’s arms-still in her dress, feet bare. A walk to Wyatt, a hug and squeeze undid him. “I’m going with her tomorrow.” Leena pulled back, addressing both of them. “Like me, she just didn’t know how to say goodbye.” She dropped her eyes. “Sometimes…” She nodded and leaned in. “Sometimes things are just best left unsaid.” A red-painted toe dug at the tile.
“But she told me she loved me.” Wyatt’s arms fell as desperation took hold.
“And that makes it all the harder.” Leena drew one hand to his cheek. “She always will, too.” She placed a soft kiss where her hand had lain.
“But I love her!” Wyatt’s anger fired rocket-like as he punched the air. “And I have this.” He pulled a small box from within his coat, held it out to Leena. “Will you-”
“Keep it, Wyatt.” Leena pulled herself up to his shoulders. “And listen to me very carefully, okay?”
He nodded, shocked at her abrupt change in temperament, her eyes seething hurt and fury.
“Now is not the time.” She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “You will never see Mira again. But do not-and I repeat this-do not give this to anyone else. Ever.” She dropped her head. “Unless you are more than a hundred percent sure she is the right one. Got that?” her glare added to the pain her finger offered while she dug into his chest.
He nodded.
Leena pursed her lips. “Good then. Take care, Wyatt.” She squeezed his shoulders and walked to Stuart, offering him a simple hug before she slipped in behind Jack and left them in silence.
Wyatt considered a gang attack, but he didn’t think he and Stuart would fare well against the monster at the door. He dropped his head, turned on his heel and started his walk back to the car.
He kicked small pebbles that ground into his shoes. They rattled against his car when they hit. He didn’t care. The dents would help ease the pain in his chest.
“Fuck.” Wyatt slammed his fists into the hood.
Vest undone, jacket over his arm, Wyatt trudged into his house. One o’clock in the morning would roll through in seconds. He entered to silence and the smell of bread baked not long before.
“Wyatt?” His mom asked from the top of the stairs. “That you?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“No Stuart?”
“Nah.”
“Someone dropped something off for you, honey. It’s in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll get it tomorrow.”
“They asked me to tell you to open it tonight. That’s why I stayed up. I’m going on to bed now, okay?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
In the dark, he followed the well-worn path from foyer to kitchen. The walk took far less time than in Mira’s house. On the island where he’d had pancakes and waffles, lunch and dinner, and had completed and forgotten his homework, lay a package wrapped in brown paper. Light from the moon-the same one he’d wanted to stand under as he gave her his second gift-streamed through the bay window, bouncing shadow and light against reflective surfaces.
That’s what the light had done to her eyes, he thought.
He crossed to the countertop, eased the package to its side.
Wyatt pulled pieces of tape off one at a time and stuck them back onto the paper. As the back revealed itself, he found a card attached.
He ripped the rest of the paper in one violent strip and turned what he knew would be art in his direction. Silhouettes of two bodies twisted around each other like a strand of DNA. Obscure, no distinct features were visible, just the idea of form.
He knew.
One body laid back, the other pressed forward, arms of whispery white connected the two.
He and Mira had been in that position hours before.
Wyatt’s heart pounded; his chest constricted. His eye caught a spot of white, lighter than the rest against the black of the canvas.
Tucked into the lower corner, it read:
8
The communicator crackled in Charley’s ear as she walked through the hallway she’d avoided with each previous invitation. Cement blocks painted a simple off-white, spotted tiled floors, metal doors and fluorescent lights adorned the school. They no longer held the romance she’d experienced so long ago.
Charley sped up at the footsteps behind her but froze-her hand at her ear. She closed her eyes, concentrating on a voice only she could hear, and balanced a brown cardboard box in one hand. “You want me to do what, James? Are you fucking crazy?”
Four pairs of innocent eyes stared up at her.
Too preoccupied with James’s request, she’d walked without thought, and he’d caught her off guard. If it hadn’t been for Chase, dropped at their doorstep eight years before, she’d never have agreed to play delivery girl.
An alarm blasted as she reached for the door.
Her earpiece rattled as hundreds of children streamed through doors, scrambling one over the other with laughter and cheer. The echoes brought intense memories and sliced through her heart.
The moment passed when she spotted her target no more than ten feet from where she stood. “Chase.”
