‘You’ve been brushing up on your twentieth-century history this afternoon,’ I said, indicating the books piled on the floor.
‘That’s my weakest subject, as you know.’
‘I could test you,’ I said, unzipping my backpack and taking out my books.
Ryan laughed. ‘More studying. I’m not sure I can handle that much excitement in one day.’
I looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Half an hour and then we’ll do something fun.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘Promise,’ I said, wondering what Ryan’s idea of fun would be.
He had clearly got to grips with his twentieth-century history. He had no difficulty answering questions about Hitler or Mussolini or Churchill; he had informed opinions on the causes of the First World War; described the cold war right up to the fall of the Berlin Wall.
‘You’re not just a pretty face,’ I said. ‘If that’s your weakest subject . . .’
‘Pretty!’ said Ryan. ‘Thanks a lot! How about gorgeous or handsome. Even cute is better than pretty. Pretty makes me sound like a five-year-old girl.’
I laughed. ‘You’re definitely not a five-year-old girl.’
‘Are we going to do something fun now?’
‘Whatever you like,’ I said, noticing that he had draped his arm along the back of the couch.
‘Hmm,’ he said, inching closer to me. ‘I can think of something . . .’
He shifted his gaze from me to the window. I heard the crunch of tyres on gravel, saw the headlights of a car sweeping across the window like searchlights, then the slam of a car door.
Ryan sighed. ‘We have company.’
‘I should probably go,’ I said.
‘Don’t go. I’ll introduce you to my dad.’
‘That’s just the sort of fun I was hoping for,’ I said.
‘We can go up to my room,’ he said.
The door to the sitting room swung open, but it was Cassie, not Ryan’s father. ‘You in here, Ry?’ she said as she ran in. ‘You’ll never believe . . .’
Ryan turned towards her. ‘Hi, Cass,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’
Time slowed down. I saw Cassie look from me to Ryan to me again. I saw her clock his arm along the back of the couch, how close to each other we were sitting.
‘Well, this is a good idea,’ she said after a pause. She turned and walked out.
Ryan leapt up off the couch and followed her into the hall. ‘Cass,’ I heard him hiss.
I strained my ears. ‘How does this help anything?’ she whispered. ‘You’re not supposed to bring anyone home.’
‘I didn’t invite her,’ I heard him say. ‘She just showed up at the door. But it’s not a problem.’
‘Get rid of her.’
I heard Ryan’s voice again, but it was too soft to make out. I went back to the sofa and gathered up my books. I wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible. Clumsily, I knocked Ryan’s neat pile of books over. I straightened his pile and finished stuffing my things back into my backpack.
Ryan came back in. ‘Sorry about her. She’s socially inept.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said, standing up. ‘I should get home anyway. Miranda will be wondering where I am.’
‘I’ll drive you.’
‘I can walk.’
‘It’s blowing a gale and the forecast isn’t good. I’m not letting you walk.’
I didn’t argue; I didn’t much want to face the biting wind.
‘I’ll be back in five minutes,’ he shouted, as we went out through the front door.
The wind whipped my hair in my face and despite the early hour, dusk was falling fast.
‘Cassie’s your sister?’ I asked, once we were both inside the car. I was thinking about some of the rumours I had heard when they first arrived in town that he lived with his girlfriend, a beautiful blonde.
‘Yes.’
‘She seems . . .’ I hesitated. I wanted to say jealous. ‘Overprotective.’
‘Don’t take any notice of her,’ he said, backing out of the driveway. He pointed to a brooding band of clouds on the horizon. ‘Looks like there’s a storm coming.’
I got the distinct impression he was trying to change the subject.
He parked around the corner from my house so that Miranda and Travis wouldn’t see the car, and then he walked me to my door.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ I said, when we reached the front gate. ‘Do you still want to do something tomorrow?’
‘Definitely,’ he said with a grin. ‘We never got on to the fun stuff.’
After dinner, I left Travis and Miranda in the living room with the Sunday papers and a bottle of wine, and went up to my room. Ryan and I were going to hang out alone tomorrow.
I knew he liked me. He was always friendly and attentive. And I was pretty certain he had been about to kiss me just before Cassie arrived home.
I didn’t care that his sister was weird and unfriendly or that Ryan and his family had possibly escaped from a cult. I didn’t care that Connor hated his guts; he’d get over it. All I cared about was that exams would soon be over and spring would soon be summer and the most gorgeous boy in the universe was spending the day with me tomorrow. Alone.
I put on my happiest, most upbeat playlist and unpacked my backpack, stacking my books neatly on my desk. Right at the bottom was a book I didn’t recognise. I must have taken one of Ryan’s by mistake. The cover had a picture of a blue planet floating in black space, three small moons around it.
My heart rammed against my ribcage in a series of slow, hard thuds.
Adrenalin coursing through my veins, I opened the book to the middle and looked at the photographs. The first was a picture of a baby. It looked like any baby. The next page showed a toddler. Cute but generic. Could be anyone. I turned the page.
There, smiling brightly at the camera was Connor. My Connor. I felt dizzy, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. The caption read
I jumped up and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Scrolling through my recent pictures, I found the three I’d taken on Friday. I held each of them up against the photo in the book. The last one was a match.
None of this made any sense. Either I was in a dream or I was having some sort of mental breakdown. Ryan owned a book called
