way. You could learn a thing or two from me about life, Lester the lezzy-boy, who can’t get a girl to save his—”
The taller boy is silenced with a sock to the gut by Lester. The two collide, shoving, stumbling back with umph s and grunts and a little laughter on the taller boy’s part.
“Seriously,” a girl’s voice says from the shadows. “Grow up.” A small hand shoos the two tussling boys back into the shadows of the house.
Her full form appears in the doorway.
I step back in reaction, a sudden jolt of recognition coursing through me. But then it fades as quick as it came. If I do feel something familiar, I can’t place it.
Her hair is long, dark, and wild. Her large eyes are rimmed in black eyeliner; there’s no other makeup on her heart-shaped face. She’s small, only five three maybe. A thin reed of a thing. Not exactly goth, but not really punk either, with tall boots over tight black jeans and a Nirvana tank top.
“Hey.” She looks me over, her light eyes curious. But I feel an undercurrent, a buzzing around her, like she’s anxious about me, the same as I seem to be about her. “Sid isn’t home. But you can come in, or whatever.”
“What in God’s name is going on down there?” Another female voice comes from inside the house. “It sounds like Bonkey Kong in stereo. I’m trying to study!”
Boots Girl rolls her eyes and calls, “Earbuds, Holly. Remember?” Then she turns back to me. “You comin’ in or what?”
I hesitate. I don’t sense anything horrid.
Actually, I don’t sense much of anything at all—which in itself is weird. I usually sense something . Even if it’s just a memory or an emotion. And this place certainly looks like it’s not lacking in either of those things. But it’s almost like the air is muffled or fogged up here. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
I decide to throw caution to the wind. I nod at Boots Girl and step into the house.
“I’m Kara,” she says as I follow her into the main room. She waves at the back hall where the two boys went. “That was Lester and Jax. They’ll say hi later.”
We pass a couch, and she points at a mound on the end. “Finger doesn’t talk much, but there he is.” Not a mound. A very round boy, hunched over an Xbox remote. His eyes are trained on the flat-screen TV on the other side of the room. A tangle of greasy brown hair tops his head. His focused features are badly pockmarked. A bag of Funyuns is spilling out onto the floor next to him.
Kara adds, “That’s not his usual space. He camps out in the basement, but lately Sid wants him socializing more with the rest of the house, so . . . well, that’s Finger socializing.” She shrugs and heads up the stairs.
“Listen,” I say. It suddenly feels like she’s giving me a tour. “I’m not sure who you think I am, but—”
“That’s Holly’s room,” she says, ignoring me and pointing at a closed door across from the head of the stairs. “She’s high strung and very weird about her hair products, so it’s best if you just steer clear of any bottles in the bathroom. Mark your soap and keep it in your own room. Which is . . .” She pauses, scanning the doors. “That one.” She nods at the door at the far end of the hall. “You’re next to me.” She chews on her lip, looking nervous, and then she turns to head toward the door of my room .
I touch her shoulder, stopping her. “I just want to talk to Sid.”
She blinks up at me. “I know.” Her voice shakes a little, and a slight current runs up my arm from where my fingers grazed her skin.
I pull away, and we just stand there looking at each other.
She felt it, too.
“Do I know you?” I finally ask.
She licks her lips, and a dimple sinks into her cheek.
My memory flashes again, this time with details: lights and music and heat.
“You don’t remember me?” she whispers. Her head tilts a little, and she’s suddenly closer. “I’m hurt.” Her energy is thick in the
The taller boy is silenced with a sock to the gut by Lester. The two collide, shoving, stumbling back with umph s and grunts and a little laughter on the taller boy’s part.
“Seriously,” a girl’s voice says from the shadows. “Grow up.” A small hand shoos the two tussling boys back into the shadows of the house.
Her full form appears in the doorway.
I step back in reaction, a sudden jolt of recognition coursing through me. But then it fades as quick as it came. If I do feel something familiar, I can’t place it.
Her hair is long, dark, and wild. Her large eyes are rimmed in black eyeliner; there’s no other makeup on her heart-shaped face. She’s small, only five three maybe. A thin reed of a thing. Not exactly goth, but not really punk either, with tall boots over tight black jeans and a Nirvana tank top.
“Hey.” She looks me over, her light eyes curious. But I feel an undercurrent, a buzzing around her, like she’s anxious about me, the same as I seem to be about her. “Sid isn’t home. But you can come in, or whatever.”
“What in God’s name is going on down there?” Another female voice comes from inside the house. “It sounds like Bonkey Kong in stereo. I’m trying to study!”
Boots Girl rolls her eyes and calls, “Earbuds, Holly. Remember?” Then she turns back to me. “You comin’ in or what?”
I hesitate. I don’t sense anything horrid.
Actually, I don’t sense much of anything at all—which in itself is weird. I usually sense something . Even if it’s just a memory or an emotion. And this place certainly looks like it’s not lacking in either of those things. But it’s almost like the air is muffled or fogged up here. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
I decide to throw caution to the wind. I nod at Boots Girl and step into the house.
“I’m Kara,” she says as I follow her into the main room. She waves at the back hall where the two boys went. “That was Lester and Jax. They’ll say hi later.”
We pass a couch, and she points at a mound on the end. “Finger doesn’t talk much, but there he is.” Not a mound. A very round boy, hunched over an Xbox remote. His eyes are trained on the flat-screen TV on the other side of the room. A tangle of greasy brown hair tops his head. His focused features are badly pockmarked. A bag of Funyuns is spilling out onto the floor next to him.
Kara adds, “That’s not his usual space. He camps out in the basement, but lately Sid wants him socializing more with the rest of the house, so . . . well, that’s Finger socializing.” She shrugs and heads up the stairs.
“Listen,” I say. It suddenly feels like she’s giving me a tour. “I’m not sure who you think I am, but—”
“That’s Holly’s room,” she says, ignoring me and pointing at a closed door across from the head of the stairs. “She’s high strung and very weird about her hair products, so it’s best if you just steer clear of any bottles in the bathroom. Mark your soap and keep it in your own room. Which is . . .” She pauses, scanning the doors. “That one.” She nods at the door at the far end of the hall. “You’re next to me.” She chews on her lip, looking nervous, and then she turns to head toward the door of my room .
I touch her shoulder, stopping her. “I just want to talk to Sid.”
She blinks up at me. “I know.” Her voice shakes a little, and a slight current runs up my arm from where my fingers grazed her skin.
I pull away, and we just stand there looking at each other.
She felt it, too.
“Do I know you?” I finally ask.
She licks her lips, and a dimple sinks into her cheek.
My memory flashes again, this time with details: lights and music and heat.
“You don’t remember me?” she whispers. Her head tilts a little, and she’s suddenly closer. “I’m hurt.” Her energy is thick in the
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