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Eli doesn’t make himself known in the hall, and as I finish up my work on tomorrow’s edition of the newspaper I wonder if he’s waiting for me.
I don’t know if he had a detention today, and as my hands finally stop shaking enough for me to complete the last template, I worry he isn’t here.
What if he isn’t?
How many times have I walked home alone, just fine by myself?
I shake my head and close my eyes, pushing back against a rising panic Eli has decided I’m not worth his time anymore.
While I know this is just my fear getting the best of me, I’m tired and my mind is full of so many conflicting thoughts, so much I don’t understand . . .
“No one’s allowed in here but staff. We don’t need any trouble.”
Dante’s voice reminds me I’m not alone in here yet, and while usually there are a couple of students in here with me when we wrap up and lock the door, the editorial staff generally leaves before we do.
But he’s still here, and when I look up, I find him by the open door with Eli, who is smiling with his arms outstretched.
“No trouble intended. Just checking on a friend is all.”
A friend.
The word brings tears to my eyes and I blink them away, shutting down the laptop and standing up.
“Hey, Eli.”
My voice sounds small and timid, and I wish I could take the words back and wait a moment, until I can find a stronger tone so I don’t sound like a frightened child.
I’m so relieved I want to run over to Eli and throw my arms around him.
Instead, I stare at him, smiling like a moron.
He doesn’t smile back, though.
“You good, Mia?”
Dante speaks first, frowning at me while I nod, and I tell him I’ll see him tomorrow as I walk over to them both and lead Eli out into the hall.
“No offense, but you look like crap.”
My laughter echoes down the empty hall, and Eli nudges me with his elbow.
His honesty is like a balm to my jumbled thoughts, although he hasn’t said anything more than a reminder I’m wearing my stress like an outfit.
The back of his hand grazes my fingers, and he takes them in his own, lacing our fingers together and squeezing.
“Seriously, though. Maybe you need to stay home, take a day off. I don’t know what’s going on, and you don’t have to tell me, but you can if you want. I promise not to tell anyone else.”
It’s only Monday, and like everyone else here I’ve just had two days off school, so I don’t know how another day at home, avoiding my mom and writing to my dead sister, could make any difference.
A good night’s sleep should do the trick, but even so, I’ll wake up tomorrow morning with Josh as well as the teacher romance mystery to deal with.
And I can’t really talk to Eli much about either.
Or can I?
“Is this okay?”
His question throws me off, until I look at his face and he glances down at our joined hands.
I frown.
“I get the feeling you don’t get asked that often.”
He’s right, I start to think, and stop myself before I go down what looks to be a dark and deep rabbit hole.
“I’m sorry I dumped on you Saturday, about Josh, I mean.”
As soon as I had started to wonder about Eli, about what it would be like to kiss him, I realized asking him how to manage Josh was a bad move.
There’s been nothing to indicate Eli thinks of me as more than a friend, but now he’s holding my hand like this . . .
“Not a problem. Relationships can be tricky, and obviously I don’t know much more about them than you do, but it helps to get that stuff out of your head and talk.”
I look down at my feet, my worn, white tennis shoes catching the light from the end of the hall as I watch them flicker back and forth with each step I take.
“Mia, you can talk to me anytime.”
Eli drops my hand and for a moment, I miss the way the warmth of his hand makes me feel, until he touches my elbow and stops me from walking ahead.
“There’s a room here no one goes to anymore, and it isn’t even locked. I’ll show you tomorrow during lunch, if you’re interested.”
I doubt I’ll be eating anything then, and besides, a tiny shiver of excitement rushes through me at the idea of Eli sharing a secret with me.
“Sounds fascinating. It’s a date.”
My smile is teasing, as are my words, but I hear them again in my head and realize what I’ve said.
But Eli returns my smile and takes my hand again.
“Definitely.”
Our walk home together is mostly quiet, and I steal looks from time to time to see the dark red scarf wrapped close against his throat against the cold.
The wind has died down, and without it, the cold isn’t as biting, and there’s a certain beauty about the stillness of it all.
My body grows stiff and I stop walking in the middle of an intersection as my thoughts take me somewhere I don’t want to remember.
Kayla’s body in the casket at the funeral home, silent and firm like a block of something hard and unforgiving.
No longer a person at all.
I poked her arm a few times and whispered her name, hoping maybe those eyelids might flutter, maybe the powdered cheeks and pink painted lips might twitch a bit to show me she had returned.
Just for me.
My father had pulled me away quickly and pushed me into a chair to wait for the service to begin, but I only stared down at my finger, where I had felt the hardness where she had been soft and warm only days before.
“Hey, Mia. I don’t know where you are, but you need to come back.”
Eli is shaking me, and I feel my eyes grow wide as I realize where I am and what I’ve been thinking.
“Sorry.”
My voice is barely audible, but he nods slowly and pulls me against him, as if he thinks I might be too cold and need warming up.
He has no idea.
There are no more words between us as he leaves me at the end of my street because I refuse to let him walk with me further, teasing him unsuccessfully about his jacket again.
He touches the scarf, his gaze on mine.
“Someone gave me this great scarf, so I’m good. I’ll watch you from here, if that doesn’t sound too creepy.”
I shake my head, because it’s sweet, and I don’t think anyone has looked out for me like this since my sister died.
But he’ll get tired of this, of my weird emotional vagueness, and the thought makes me frown.
“It is creepy, isn’t it? I can go.”
I grab his hand as he turns away, his eyes downcast now.
“No, Eli. It isn’t. I was just thinking . . .”
How do I explain it, without comparing him to Kayla, which is not exactly what is going through my head right now?
“You do that a lot, don’t you?”
He has a good point.
Maybe too good.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. I can’t wait to see this secret room of yours.”
His eyebrows rise and his smile returns, and it’s impossible for me not to mirror it as some of the tension releases from my body.
“I’ll give you a hint: old, taped-up gym mats and a slippery wooden floor.”
I rub my mittened fingers against my cheek and consider these very unhelpful clues.
“I have no idea.”
He laughs but doesn’t turn away, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
A car horn honks and Eli looks up, waving before I can see who is driving.
“My neighbor. Sometimes I keep an eye on her kids when she goes to the grocery store.”
This is both easy and hard to believe, and I’m glad he’s mentioned something I can mull over instead of my own depressing thoughts.
I shake my head, because he couldn’t make something like that up, and he taps my elbow.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Call or text if you want, okay?”
With homework and today’s new developments to consider, it would be better if I don’t start a random conversation with Eli once I’m home, but it’s a comfort to know he’s there if I need more than that.
“Sure, thanks.”
We part with another smile, and I find I’m not self-conscious with my back to him, walking away knowing he’s watching me.
“She won’t be able to come. It would mean missing too much school.”
My mother sounds exasperated, her voice the first thing I hear as I hang up my coat and peek into the kitchen, where something in the oven smells too good for me to eat.
Something rich, with tomato sauce, cheese . . . a lasagna?
Kayla avoided pasta like the plague, and I know I can’t possibly take a bite.
“Stop hovering like that, Mia. It’s rude.”
My mother’s irritated voice yanks me from my thoughts, and I stand straight with a jolt, walking into the kitchen with my head down.
“Sorry.”
I don’t ask what she was talking about, partly because she’s annoyed with me already, and also because I’m distracted by the scent that fills the room.
My stomach churns and I fight the urge to rest my hand over it, knowing I won’t like the bulge I feel there.
“Your father wants to tell you something, so don’t just stand there.”
I don’t usually expect my father to be home, so when he is, it can sometimes be a nice surprise.
Or just a surprise.
He’s flapping the pages of his newspaper around as he attempts to fold them together, finally rolling it all up and dropping it to the floor.
Why is he so flustered?
“Have a seat, Mia. I have some work news.”
He points to my usual chair, as if I need the direction, and I do as he says, unsure what is coming.
His smile is condescending, and while I know he views me as a little girl, just as I was before Kayla was lost to us, I’ve grown tired of being treated like a child.
But there’s nothing I can do about it.
“How was school?”
I nod and attempt to smile, but I don’t think I’m very convincing because he sighs heavily in response.
“The other partners have suggested a cruise with some of our most valuable clients, and those with older kids plan to bring them along. Would you like to go with your mother and me? I hear the Bahamas are beautiful this time of year.”
The Bahamas sound beautiful to everyone in Ohio this time of year, but I don’t say this out loud.
A cruise? Kayla and her friends would jump at the opportunity, but only if they were together.
I wonder what the other kids who are going are like.
Could I take that chance, and risk ending up stuck on a boat in the Caribbean with my parents for . . . how long?
“It’s only a week, Mia. You can catch up on homework when you get home.”
But my mother doesn’t want me to come with them.
With her.
It doesn’t take me long to decide, not with so much of such a situation that would be out of my control.
“I don’t think so, Dad. But thank you for asking.”
He glances at the kitchen, where my mother is silent, moving about audibly but obviously listening to our conversation.
“Are you sure? Take some time to think about it. I can change our reservation up through the day after tomorrow.”
They’ve already made reservations?
Plans that don't include me.
This isn’t anything new, so why do I look down now, hoping he can’t see the tears that pool in the corners of my eyes?