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From here, through the glass, I can see shadows moving about in front of the lights strung up over the trees. They decorated out there too.
Teeth gritted, I shake my head, cast off that path, and head straight instead.
Another set of doors greets me at the end.
It’s dark this way. Quiet.
Letting impulse carry me, I shove open the doors, looking around for a familiar golden head of hair. Brick siding stretches out on either side of me, and before me. The smell of garbage wafts from the dumpsters tucked into the back of this little alcove.
At the mouth of the narrow opening, a single spotlight fans across the glittering pavement. I find myself walking toward it, fingers playing mindlessly with the ring on my middle finger.
My shield.
Well, Jeremy’s technically.
Something about that fact soothes me more than if it were my own.
The door eases shut behind me with a faint squeal. It’ll probably lock, but I can’t find it in me to care. From here, I can just walk back around to the front anyway.
Music filters from the open windows, growing louder as I edge my way around the school. Muscle memory has my brain filing the song away—“Teenage Dirtbag” by Wheatus.
In the distance, across from where the gymnasium is, separated only by this narrow utility road, is a swing set, half-buried in shadows, half-glittering under the fairy lights the school had put out this way too.
My steps slow, right along with my heart, when I spot the figure sitting slumped in one of the swings, dress shoes kicking at the mulch, blond hair gleaming.
I look around, but there’s no one out here.
Just him.
He doesn’t immediately notice me, and I take the moment to just…take him in, relief rushing through my veins, now that I found him and can see he’s okay.
Seeing as Clay dropped out not long after Ethan got expelled last year, neither are here tonight. No one else really gives Jeremy problems, not anymore, not these days, when he gets more pity than I do. They just…avoid him.
Makes it easy for him to slip by unnoticed.
Just like he managed to slip past you.
Wincing at the reminder, I rub my fingers just under the base of my throat, where a painful sort of knot has formed.
Be better.
My shoes crunch along the chunks of concrete that have broken off on the steps leading up to the swings, and at that, his head snaps up, tension drawing his body tight.
“Just me,” I say, holding up a hand, at the same time he relaxes.
“Hey,” he mumbles, and yet out here, with nothing but the music playing faintly from the windows behind me, his voice carries easily.
“You left.”
He makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Surprised you noticed.”
I rear back at that, and he grimaces, looking away. Something tells me he didn’t mean to say that. I’m glad he did though. It’s the least I deserve.
“Yeah… sorry about that.”
“It’s whatever. I didn’t mean it like…” He waves a hand. “It’s not like you’re my—” He drops his head, grumbling what I imagine are curses under his breath. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”
Sucking my lip between my teeth, I debate my next words. “Well, clearly I do.”
