A younger boy is standing there. He looks like he’s about thirteen or fourteen, and he drops a heavy bag down on the floor where it lands with a thud. “I got soup.”
Tag gets up and looks inside the backpack. “Rad. Only slightly bruised. You go Dumpster diving?”
“Yes.” He sees me sitting at the table and he goes still and watchful. There is a wounded air around him that makes me want to put my hand out, like I’m approaching a scared animal.
Nikki stands up from the table. “LJ, this is Lydia. She’s with him.” She points toward Tag’s room, where Wes leans against the door frame, his hair wet and sticking up around his head. I notice he’s wearing a clean black T-shirt; Tag must have given it to him.
“That’s Wes,” Tag says. He’s sitting on the floor, heating up the cans of soup on a small hot plate. “He’s an old friend of mine.”
“Nice to meet you.” LJ keeps his head down. He has darkly tanned skin and large brown eyes, and I feel like I recognize him from somewhere. He does look like Nikki, though he doesn’t have the same pointy features that she does. But I can see the similarities in their round faces, their doe-like eyes.
“Soup’s on,” Tag calls out. “Literally.”
Wes straightens from the doorway and walks over to the table. He sits next to me, and I smell soap and pine trees.
Tag puts a bowl in front of each of us. Wes and I eat slowly, but the rest of them shovel it into their mouths. I wonder if it’s the first meal they’ve had today.
“It’s your turn on dishes,” Nikki tells LJ when all the food is gone.
He straightens, making his lean body look even skinnier. “I did them yesterday.”
“Nice try.” Nikki ruffles his brown hair as she gets up from the table.
The sky outside is dark; the sun has finally gone down, and the room is filled with a soft light. I start to yawn, and the movement spreads through my entire body.
Wes sees it. “You’re tired.”
“A little.”
“Why don’t you sleep?” He turns to Tag. “She can have the couch, right?”
“Yeah. LJ crashes in the other room, and Nikki’s in with me.”
LJ catches the tail end of the conversation as he comes back into the room carrying an armful of dishes. “There’s another bed in my room,” he tells Wes. “You can have it if you want.” His voice squeaks on the words and his face gets red again.
Wes shakes his head. “I’ll take the floor.”
Tag scoffs. “Why would you do that? There’s a free bed.”
Wes looks over at me. “I’m fine on the floor.”
I stand up and walk to the couch. It smells a little like body odor and mold, but I curl up on it anyway. “Wes,” I mumble. “I’m fine out here. Just go sleep in LJ’s room.” I close my eyes.
I don’t hear his response. I’m almost instantly asleep.
CHAPTER 11
In the middle of the night, I wake to the sound of hushed voices. My eyes crack open. Wes and Tag are sitting at the table. There’s a bottle of something between them and they’re passing it back and forth and taking small, wincing sips.
Almost all of the lamps have been switched off except for a small one that rests near their feet. It gives off just enough light to see their bodies, but their faces are blurs of shadow.
“I haven’t had this stuff in years,” Wes says as he takes a sip of the dark liquid. “God, it still burns, huh?”
Tag laughs sharply, then stops abruptly and looks over at me. I squeeze my eyes shut, but Wes just shakes his head. “Don’t worry about her. Lydia’s a heavy sleeper.”
It is strange to hear Wes talk about me with someone else, and I stay perfectly still, trying to catch every word.
“How’d you two hook up?” Tag asks. “And don’t give me some shit about not being together. You never stop looking at her, not even for a second.” He laughs softly. “I remember how it used to be. Girls always around, thinking you were older than you were. But you never had any use for them. This one is different, though. She’s wearing your watch.”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s always complicated.” Tag grabs the bottle from Wes’s hand. “So where’d you find her?”
Wes doesn’t say anything, and Tag scowls. “Come on, man. Just tell me how you met her. She’s clearly not one of us.”
“She’s not like anyone I’ve ever known.”
“An easy life. It’s written all over her.”
“No.” Wes’s voice changes, hardens. “Not easy. Especially not since she met me.”
Tag tilts his head as he studies him. “She’s not here against her will, man. Anyone can see that. Girl’s into you.”
Wes looks down at the table. “I’m not good for her.”
“You’re trippin’, man.”
He is silent again, and Tag sets the bottle on the table with a dull thump. “What are you involved in anyway? What’s got you running so scared?”
“Nothing.”
“Ah, cut it out with that crap. You disappear for years and then you come back all . . .” He makes a karate-chopping gesture.
Wes laughs a little. “What does that mean?”
“Like James Bond or something. You used to be clumsy. Always falling over shit. You couldn’t fight to save your life. And now you’re vaulting through windows like you’re in some action movie. What happened to you?”
“I grew up. We both did.”
Tag leans forward, until the outline of his body is close to Wes. “I know you wouldn’t have left if you didn’t have to. You weren’t like the others. Did something . . . ?”
Wes shakes his head. “I’m sorry I left. But there’s no mystery here. I was gone, I came back. That’s all.”
“Yeah, right.” Tag takes a long swig from the bottle. When he drops it back down, he seems to have come to some kind of decision. “You know, Nikki and LJ weren’t born on the streets like us. They weren’t rich or anything,
