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Max went to his crate, expectant.
“Not now,” Kota said.
Max sank to the floor, his head dropping.
The security light went out, but Kota was far enough inside to get to the door. “Come on,” he said to her, trying to sound encouraging. If he got her inside quickly enough, maybe she wouldn’t be so scared. He tenderly reached for the arm she cradled, tugging her inside.
Once they were in the downstairs hallway of his house, he released her, and she fell in behind him. He checked over his shoulder. She followed close, her eyes squinting in the dark.
If she really wanted to leave, she probably would have. Kota blew out a breath, crossing his fingers that if she’d come this far, she might actually tell him what was going on.
He thought about taking her into the kitchen, but didn’t want to risk waking Jessica or his mother. He opened a door in the hallway, revealing the staircase that lead to his bedroom above the garage.
He started up, checking again to make sure she was following. She seemed to hesitate at first, but then started climbing. He hurried over to the computer desk in the corner, touching a lamp a couple of times to brighten the place up.
He turned, and seeing her in the better light, he froze. He’d seen her during the day and had tried to determine her age, but worked out that she had to be his own age: sixteen or close to it. Her blond hair was wet, making it darker, and it was pulled back, messy now. Her cheeks and nose were pink from blushing or from chill or both. She was wearing a poncho, and he hadn’t realized it until now. Her jeans and shoes were wet.
Her eyes, light green in the light, really drew his attention. Beautiful, aware, terrified, haunted...and above it all, curious.
He hadn’t been able to get this close to her since she’d moved in. She was stunning from a distance, and more so even now. He tried to smile to show he was friendly, and started counting: ten fingers, two eyes, one, two, three, four...light bruises on her arms but they appeared old. Was that a light scar at her elbow? And then he noticed the bright red scrapes along her arm. He felt a pang of guilt, and even more guilt when he realized that while he was sorry for hurting her, he was entirely relieved that she also wasn’t too injured and managed to trust him enough to follow him. Try looking on the bright side.
“I’m sorry,” she said, jarring him from his thoughts. “I should probably have taken my shoes off. They’re soaked.”
Internally, he was grinning at her concern, but he tried to suppress it a little. “I’m not worried about the carpet right now. One thing at a time.” He took the book bag off his shoulder, and then headed to the bathroom. He wanted to get a good look and bandage her up. “Take that poncho off and let’s look at your arm.”
The bathroom was snug, even for one person. He pressed a palm against his forehead, wiping away some of the remaining drops of rain.
She struggled for a moment with the poncho sticking to her. When she managed to get it off, her shirt was sticking to her body.
He swallowed, urging himself to turn quickly, but he couldn’t help but look. Part of it was expecting some other form of injury, and part of it was her shape and the sudden surprise of seeing it in such a way.
When she tried to fix her shirt, he realized he was staring and focused on the poncho, taking it from her to hang over the curtain rod. Focus, he told himself.
He reached for her arm, trying to turn it enough to check it. There was a gash, and she lightly tugged, wincing.
He looked closer, testing it, and the guilt settled harder into him at seeing the blood. “My god,” he said. “I’m sorry. Really. This was my fault.”
She shook her head. “It was your dog. Not really his fault. He was excited, I guess.”
If only that was how innocent it really had been. He’d meant well, of course, but he wished there had been a better way. “He was excited,” Kota said. He moved quickly to stop the urge to tell her more, worried he might reveal something he shouldn’t. He found the first aid kit, and took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. She didn’t appear to need stitches, but he’d have to clean it up to find out how bad it really was. At the same time, he came up with what he’d prepared for his story, trying not to out and out lie by talking about real things that were technically true. “I’ve noticed the lead was getting thin in the middle for a while. When he smelled or heard you, he took off and it broke.” Okay, small lie. Did he have to explain everything? “He’s not usually that bad. He needed to go out but hates this weather. So, I’m sorry about that. I should have replaced the lead before now. And I don’t know why he jumped on you. He never does that.”
Was he rambling? He stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth, stopping himself from talking any more. He started arranging what he wanted to use to clean her arm, and then looked up, noticing her stare. He looked quizzically at her. Did she know? Could she tell when he lied? He wasn’t sure if he had many tells left, maybe a few, but some people were more perceptive of others. Maybe she...
“...name,” she said, in a soft voice.
He stopped for a second, confused. “Hm?”
“I don’t know your name.”
He started to smile. Of course. “I’m Kota.” She stood quietly, and he found it hard to read her. He released a chuckle. “What’s yours?”
“Uh...Sang.”
There was a short pause, like he expected more to it, or that maybe he’d heard it wrong. “As in, I sang a song?”
She nodded. “I know it’s weird.”
Weird wasn’t the term he would have used. Unique was better. “No weirder than ‘Kota’.”
She smiled, and the subtle change boosted Kota’s confidence. This had to be the right thing. She had to feel safe here. Mr. Blackbourne and the others couldn’t say anything against this.
Part of him didn’t really want to mention it. Maybe he didn’t have to. What if he could talk to her and figure out what the problem was? He normally wouldn’t hesitate to bring anything to Mr. Blackbourne or the other members of his team, but if he could solve it himself quickly enough, or at least provide some support for her, there wouldn’t be a reason to ever tell them.
He wanted to believe, but she was standing in his bedroom late at night after she’d tried to run off. There couldn’t be a simple reason for that. Most girls wouldn’t have followed him home. Most girls would have been suspicious. But this one didn’t seem like most girls.
He prepped a clean cloth with the peroxide quickly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “And please don’t hate me.”
“For what?” she asked.
He took her arm, and as gently as he could, applied the cloth to her arm. She stiffened hard at first, like it was unexpected, and then started shaking.
Kota grimaced and tried to clean her arm quickly. She turned her head away, and he assumed it might be easier on her if she wasn’t watching what he was doing. The gash was raw, and bled a bit, but looked like it was mostly a surface wound. He could imagine it really stung.
He found a large bandage to cover it. She didn’t say anything, or reach to do it herself, so he went ahead and applied it. “I think you’re patched up,” he said, rubbing the edge of the bandage to make sure it stuck, and then tossed the wrapper away. “Anything else broken or bleeding?” Please say no. Not that he wouldn’t fix it, but the arm was enough to feel guilty about.
She shrugged and shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Kota wasn’t really sure if that was true. She did fall, so he imagined a few more body parts struck the ground pretty hard. Maybe she meant there wasn’t anything scraped up like the arm. If that was the worst of it, then—while it wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t so bad. He nodded. “Okay. Well, Sang, I hope this won’t ruin your impression of me right off.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. She looked...alert. Curious. Her eyes darted around, her body shook. She was nervous, and he understood, but that spark of interest in her eyes captured his attention. She wasn’t too afraid of him.
He thought of an angle he could start from to figure out what was going on. It was on the tip of his tongue to simply be blunt and ask outright, but he got the feeling she might not answer, or might quickly get uncomfortable. It’d be better to ease into it to gain her trust. “I mean we are neighbors, right? Your family just moved in?” It was an obvious question, but he had to start somewhere.
Her eyes widened. Was she surprised by the question? Or surprised that he noticed they’d moved in? Maybe it felt like he recognized her, and she didn’t recognize him. “Yes,” she said. Her head shook a fraction. “No.” Her head moved slightly in a nod. Kota’s training would normally say she was lying, but it felt more like she just wasn’t sure how to answer. “I mean, don’t worry about it. It was just an accident.” She pressed her lips together.
Kota struggled with how to ask, because her lip movement usually meant she didn’t want to reveal too much. Instinct told him she maybe wanted to talk, but wasn’t sure if she should. She didn’t trust him that much yet. Still, he thought if he asked, she’d at least try to answer. “So what were you doing out so late?”
Short pause. Her eyes darted, and Kota knew it was a lie before she even said it. “Just taking a walk. I couldn’t sleep.”
“With a book bag weighing a ton on your back?” he asked. He was trying to be delicate in calling her out. “In the middle of this weather?”
Her cheeks turned red. Her lips twitched like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.
Worse than he thought. He tried to look sympathetic. “Hey, I’m sorry. Look, it’s personal. Whatever it was, did you have to do it in the middle of the night?”
Her shoulders moved back, her chest expanding as she breathed in. “It felt like a good idea at the time.”
She answered because he’d asked, but she seemed to not want to talk about it.
