“I’m not sure. They weren’t sure how long they’d be there.”
“Do you know why they’re there? What they wanted to talk to Ayden about?”
“I didn’t ask.” She sits down on the bed beside me. “I figure it’s really none of my business unless Lila wants to talk to me about it.” Her stern expression presses that it should be none of my business, either, unless Ayden wants to talk about it with me.
Sometimes I feel like she knows more about Ayden than I do. I’ve overheard Lila whispering stuff about his past to my mom. I’m not sure what since they either shoo me away or leave the room themselves when they noticed I’m listening, and prying it out of my mother was impossible.
“I’m his best friend.” I pick at a loose string on the hem of my pajama shorts. “He should want to talk to me about it, but he never seems to want to.”
She pats my leg. “Unfortunately that’s not how it always works. Sometimes even best friends need to keep stuff from each other. At least until they’re ready to talk about it.”
“Did you keep stuff from Dad? I mean, back when you were best friends.”
Traces of remorse haunt her eyes. “There was a lot of stuff I didn’t tell him. I kept more from him than I wish I would have.”
I hug my knee to my chest. “Then why did you do it?”
She shrugs, uncomfortable. “I was afraid of what I would feel if I said stuff aloud. Afraid that your dad wouldn’t love me anymore if I told him everything about me.”
I rest my chin on my knee. “Just what kind of secrets did you have, Mom? You sound super sketchy right now.”
She shrugs again and her eyes well up. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. What’s in the past is in the past.” Sucking back the tears, she stands up. “You can drive my car to school if you want to, but you’ll have to gas it up.” She starts to leave, dabbing her eyes with her fingertips.
“Mom, wait.” I spring from the bed and hurry over to her. “I’m not sure if I need to tell you this, but it kind of feels like I should, since I’m worried Ayden himself might not tell Lila or Ethan.”
I quickly tell her about the guy standing outside the house, giving her the details of what he looked like, and giving her the sketch I drew of guy the night I first saw him. I omit that Ayden snuck out for a while, not wanting to get him in trouble. He still hasn’t confessed what he was doing and I’ve given up on trying to get the information out of him. For now anyway.
“I’m glad you told me,” my mother says when I’m finished. “I’ll make sure to mention it to Lila. She’ll want to know about it.”
“You don’t think he’s bad, do you?” I gather my hair into my hand and fasten it into a ponytail with an elastic from my dresser. “Like maybe one of those people the police are looking for?”
“I doubt it.” But concern masks her face. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry.” She glances down at the phone in her hand. “You should get ready for school; otherwise, you’re going to be late.” She walks out of my room and closes the door behind her, leaving me to stew in my own worry.
I decide to text Ayden to make sure he’s okay; something short and simple, knowing that he’s probably stressed out from being at the police station.
Me: Hey! If u need anything, give me a holler.
Then I put my phone down and get ready for school, waiting for him to respond and trying not to stress out when he doesn’t.
Chapter 4
Lyric
Three hours and one silent ride to school with Kale later, Ayden still hasn’t given me a holler¸ which should be a good thing, right? Means the visit with the police went okay?
Doubt resides in the back of my mind, though. Knowing Ayden, his silence could mean he’s shutting down. Like my mother told me this morning, even best friends keep secrets from each other.
While I attempt to remain understanding, it still makes me sad. I barely know what’s going on with him at the moment. If he’s hurting while dealing with his brother’s death, and what on earth he was doing when he snuck out of his house the other night.
“Earth to Lyric. Have you heard anything I’ve said at all?” Sage waves his hand in front of my face, interrupting my thoughts.
Startled, I jerk back in surprise and chuck the pencil in my hand. Our desks are facing each other, so the pencil ends up zipping by his head, missing his eye by an inch. Thankfully, we’re in fourth period English, and the teacher, Ms. Reltingly, loves doing group projects, so most of my classmates are distracted and don’t notice my crazy ninja reflex reaction.