small grin passed Jonah’s face. “That’s the weird thing. They already got theirs.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to sound convincing.
“I found these guys down the alley, right after. They were beat down worse than me. Not even moving.” His grin widened. “Someone got to them. I guess there is a God.”
“That’s so strange,” she said.
“Maybe I have a guardian angel,” he said, looking her over closely.
“Maybe,” she answered.
He stared at her for a long time, as if waiting for her to volunteer something, to hint at something. But she didn’t.
“And there was something even stranger than all that,” he said, finally.
He reached down and pulled something out of his backpack, and held it out.
“I found this.”
She stared down in shock. It was her journal.
She felt her cheeks redden as she took it, both delighted to have it back and horrified that he had this piece of evidence that she was there. He must know for sure now that she was lying.
“It has your name in it. It is yours, right?”
She nodded, surveying it. It was all there. She had forgotten about it.
“There were some loose pages. I gathered them all up and put them back in. I hope I got them all,” he said.
“You did,” she said softly, touched, embarrassed.
“I followed the trail of pages, and the funny thing is….they lead me down the alley.”
She continued to look down at the book, refusing to make eye contact.
“How do you suppose your journal got there?” he asked.
She looked him in the eye, doing her best to keep a straight face.
“I was walking home last night, and I lost it somewhere. Maybe they found it.”
He studied her.
Finally, he said, “Maybe.”
They stood there, in silence.
“The weirdest thing of all,” he continued, “is that, before I went completely unconscious, I could have sworn I saw you there, standing over me, yelling at those guys to leave me alone….Isn’t that crazy?”
He studied her, and she looked him back, straight in the eye.
“I’d have to be pretty crazy to do a thing like that,” she said. Despite herself, a small smile started at the corner of her mouth.
He paused, then broke into a wide grin.
“Yes,” he answered, “you would.”
Chapter Four
Caitlin was on cloud nine as she walked home from school, clutching her journal. She hadn’t been this happy in she didn’t know when. Jonah’s words replayed in her head.
“There’s this concert tonight. At Carnegie Hall. I’ve got two free tickets. They’re the worst seats in the house, but the vocalist is supposed to be amazing.”
“Are you asking me out?” she’d said, smiling.
He’d smiled back.
“If you don’t mind going with this lump of bruises,” he’d said, smiling back. “After all, it is Friday night.”
She practically skipped home, unable to contain her excitement. She didn’t know anything about classical music—she’d never even really listened to it before—but she didn’t care. She’d go anywhere with him.
Carnegie Hall. He said the dress was fancy. What would she wear? She checked her watch. She wouldn’t have much time to change if she was going to meet him at that café before the concert. She doubled her pace.
Before she knew it, she was home, and even the dreariness of her building didn’t bring her down. She bounded up the five flights of stairs and hardly even felt it as she walked into her new apartment.
Her Mom’s scream came right away: “You fucking bitch!”
Caitlin ducked just in time, as her Mom threw a book right at her face. It went flying past her, and smashed into the wall.
Before Caitlin could speak, her Mom charged—fingernails out, aiming right for her face.
Caitlin reached up and caught her wrists just in time. She tangled with her, going back and forth.
Caitlin could feel her newfound power surging through her veins, and she felt that she could throw her Mom across the room without even trying. But she willed herself to control it, and she shoved her off, but only hard enough to send her onto the couch.
Her Mom, on the couch, suddenly broke into tears. She sat there, sobbing.
“It’s your fault!” she screamed between her sobs.
“What’s wrong with you?” Caitlin screamed back, completely off guard, having no idea what was going on. Even for her Mom, this was crazy behavior.
“Sam.”
Her Mom held out a piece of notebook paper.
Caitlin’s heart pounded as she took it, a feeling of dread washing over her. Whatever it was, she knew it couldn’t be good.
“He’s gone!”
Caitlin scanned the handwritten note. She couldn’t really concentrate as she read, only picking out fragments—running away…don’t want to be here…back with my friends…don’t try to find me.
Her hands were shaking. Sam had done it. He’d really left. And he didn’t even wait for her. Didn’t even wait to say goodbye.
“It’s because of you!” her Mom spat.
A part of Caitlin couldn’t believe it. She ran through the apartment, opened Sam’s door, half expecting to find him there.
But the room was empty. Immaculate. Not a single thing left. Sam had never kept his room that clean. It was true. He was really gone.
Caitlin felt the bile rise up in her throat. She couldn’t help feeling that this time her Mom was right, that it was her fault. Sam had asked her. And she had said, “Just go.”
Just go. Why did she have to say that? She planned on apologizing, on taking it back, the next morning, but he was already gone when she woke up. She was going to talk to him when she got home today. But now it was too late.
She knew where he must have gone. There’s only one place he would go:
