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“Have you eaten?” I ask instead, noticing how drawn out she looks.
“What?” she replies, looking equally confused.
“Food. You know, breakfast. Have you had any?”
Without saying a word, she simply shakes her head.
“Come on.” I turn and start walking away from her. I don’t hear her following. “Well, you coming?” I ask when all she does is stand there.
“Where are you going?”
I move and hold the gate open for her. “Home.”
Her eyes reflect uncertainty. I can see her mentally trying to work out what the right thing to do is. “Will Mads be there?” she asks.
I nod my chin. “It’ll make her day seeing you.”
She smiles, although she tries to hide it. I get lucky because she moves toward me, and we set off, together.
Back at mine, I open the door slowly and move to let Lauren past.
“I can’t,” she whispers with a shake of her head.
She didn’t talk the rest of the walk here. “You’ll be fine.”
She hesitates again before she slowly lifts her foot.
We move to the kitchen, and I drop my phone on the table. “Want one?” I ask, holding up the kettle, now in need of a warm drink.
Lauren nods and moves to sit down. I’m grateful she’s being compliant. “Where is she?” she asks.
Checking the time on my watch, I smile to myself. “In bed. She won’t wake up ‘til I take her up this brew.” I notice Lauren looking around, almost frantically. “Why do you look worried to see her?”
Eyes hopping, she finally settles them on me. “Because… because there’s so much to say and I don’t know where to begin.”
I let out a sigh as the kettle starts to boil. “She mentioned you going to the school today?”
Lauren nods. “That’s right.”
“So, why did I see you out so early?” Grabbing the milk, I fill the mugs and wait for her to talk.
“I was heading there. Needed to stop at a friend’s beforehand.”
I can’t help the way my eyebrow arches. She’s lying. “A friend’s? At five in the morning?”
“Yes, Dean. A friend’s. What’s the problem?”
There’s the fire again. “I didn’t think kids your age were even up at that time, so it makes me question, what fucking friends?” I can’t help the way my tone snaps. I might be mid-thirties, but when you live a life on the outside, you know there’s only one of two reasons why kids meet at that time.
They’re in danger or they’re dealing.
“What friends, Lauren?” Her silence is confirmation that something shady is going on.
She stands quickly, feeling backed into a corner no doubt. “I have to go.”
As she moves, I drop the spoon with a bang, managing to get my body in front of hers at the doorway. Our eyes bounce around, both trying to read the other. “Friends don’t meet that early.” I manage to keep my voice low so as not to wake Mads.
“I’m nearly sixteen, how I decide to live my life has got nothing to do with you,” she says through gritted teeth.
