Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

MARGO

Monday morning

"Do you have to work today?" I ask.

Annie nods, closing the car door behind her. "I work today and tomorrow."

"Wow, two days in a row."

She shrugs. "Well, I might've asked for a few extra shifts because I want to buy a new outfit for the concert."

My jaw drops, and I round the car to catch up to her. "Tell me everything. Are we talking sparkles? Sequins? What about jewelry and makeup?"

She glares. "I don't want to look like a clown."

"Well, tell me what you have in mind then," I say as we enter the school.

"There's a cute white top with tulle sleeves that I want to get."

I gasp. "You'd look gorgeous in that! Forget sparkles and sequins. You don't need it."

She smiles. "What are you going to wear? "

I laugh as we start to walk into the school because she knows exactly what I'll wear. "Probably sparkles and sequins. I want to look like the night sky."

"Of course you do," she says. "Maybe we should go shopping later and find something for you. I'll have extra cash after all."

I come to a full stop. "Am I dreaming? Did you actually offer to go shopping with me?"

"Online," she says, pulling me along.

"Oh," I say, a little disappointed.

She laughs. "I'm kidding. You got me tickets. The least I can do is go shopping with you. Even if that means venturing out into public."

I give her a side hug, squeezing her tightly.

The hallway is pretty crowded because two buses just arrived, and the kids are streaming in all at once.

"It's probably good practice," I say. "There are going to be thousands of people at the concert."

"That's different. Broken Sage will be there. I will gladly make an exception."

"Your logic is flawed," I say.

"It makes perfect sense to me."

We near the next hallway. "Are you headed to the library?"

"As usual," she says.

"I'll probably head to the cafeteria." I lift my foot to take my first step around the corner, but I'm jerked backwards. I spin around, half expecting to see one of my friends, but Daniel stares back at me. He's dressed in all black, making his dark blond hair stand out. It's wild, covering his eyes.

I open my mouth to demand an explanation, but he lifts his finger to his lips. "Trust me." Then, he takes ahold of my hand, and the next thing I know, we're running in the opposite direction. He leads me all the way to the freshman wing of the high school before stopping.

"What's the big idea?" I ask, not particularly happy with being kidnapped.

He lets go, hands immediately thrown into his pockets. "I figured you didn't want your sister seeing me talking with you."

"And this was the answer?" My brow furrows as I gesture to the freshman around us.

"I know the name of the girl in the picture," he blurts out.

My head tilts to the side. I didn't think Daniel was the type to go and investigate on his own. He's never seemed like a motivated person. He seems like the type who waits for everyone else to do the hard work for him, but clearly I'm wrong. "How?"

"Laura met her a long time ago and told me her name is Meghan."

I smile. He's so hooked on finding his father he's making my job easier. "That's amazing. What about her last name?"

"All I have is a first name, but that's better than nothing." He smiles, and I realize I've never seen it before. Not really. It's lopsided, his teeth are a little crooked, but somehow perfect.

My heart flutters, because for the first time, I think I might see a glimpse of what Annie sees.

There's a sparkle in his usually dark eyes that lights up his face. I wonder if Annie's ever seen this smile. Is this why she found him so attractive? I start to reach for him, mesmerized by his joy. I want to see if it's real or if I'm imagining it, but I stop myself before I touch his smile.

His gaze flickers to my hand, and I'm horrified. "You're right. It's huge. Great job, detective," I say, trying to save myself. I hold up my hand for a high five.

He grimaces as if I've insulted him. "No."

I roll my eyes, and wave my hand in front of him. "Come on. You deserve this."

He shakes his head.

"You know you want to." I wiggle my fingers and firmly plant my feet onto the floor. I will not be moving anytime soon. I will get this high five.

He looks over his shoulder, then he reluctantly takes a hand out of his pocket. He taps his palm against mine so fast he looks like he's touching a hot stove. His arm falls limp at his side. "There, happy?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

His cheeks burn red from embarrassment. "So do you want to look for more clues today?"

Considering how I'm not supposed to be on my phone during class, searching for clues at school is going to be tough, but Annie is working later. That means I'm free to do whatever I want until she's done. "We can head to your house after school."

"My house?" His voice cracks.

Did I scare him? Is that possible? "Yup, you know that place you sleep at? That one." I'm not about to bring him to my house. I don't want to deal with the amount of explaining I'd have to do.

"Right," he says. "That one."

My phone starts buzzing. Annie's contact fills the screen. "I have to take this, but we can talk more about it in class," I say.

He nods as I answer my phone and wander off.

I walk with Annie after school to her car and grab the ChapStick I left in the passenger seat.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drop you off at home?" she asks.

"I'll be fine, I promise. Besides, I don't want you to be late to work."

She slides into the car. "Just don't complain about taking the bus next time I see you."

I laugh. "Trust me, I won't. Now drive safe." I close her door for her and wave as I step away.

She waves back and then starts to reverse.

The yellow school buses are all still lined up in front of the school, but I start running toward the city bus stop instead. I'm pushing it. The bus pulls up, and the group of kids that are huddled around the stop get on while I'm still way too far back. I wave my arms wildly in the air, trying to catch the driver's attention, but the bus starts leaving anyway.

I fold over, hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. No matter how hard I try to be graceful, I'm well aware that I look like a cow gasping for air. Now what? I was supposed to be on that bus with Daniel. He probably thinks I stood him up.

"What are you doing?" Two black shoes appear in front of me.

I peer up, clutching my side. Daniel stands with his hands in his pockets, one eyebrow raised.

"Why aren't you on the bus?" I ask.

"You weren't here yet."

I straighten up, still very much breathless. "So you missed your bus to wait for me? "

"Relax. It comes every twenty minutes. It's not a big deal."

"Oh, right." I set my backpack on the ground between my feet.

"Besides, the next bus will be less crowded."

That's true. Usually the first bus after school is the busiest. Sometimes it looks like a sardine can with how many students try to squeeze in.

"Well, thanks for waiting. It gives me someone to talk to. Not that we have to talk, of course. But we can if you want to."

He laughs softly. "I don't think you're capable of not talking."

"I can," I say, "for short periods of time."

"Why do you talk so much?"

I've never really thought about it very much. My whole life I was a talker. Like Mama. I think the world created people like us to make sure there was never too much silence. "There's just always so much to say. Everywhere I look, I see beautiful and fascinating things that make my mind race, and instead of holding back, I let all those thoughts out."

"Really? What's so beautiful and fascinating about this?" He motions around us to the road and school.

"What about that?" I point to a green plant poking through the sidewalk.

"A weed? You think a weed is beautiful and fascinating?"

I can understand the skepticism, but that's only because he isn't looking at it the same way as I am. "You see a weed. I see something else."

His brow furrows. He crouches down to get a closer look. "Which is?"

"It's growing somewhere it shouldn't. Despite the odds, it managed to find a crack in the concrete and sprout. That's pretty cool if you ask me."

"I'm sorry, but that's ridiculous." He shakes his head. "That sounds like an intro to a book about peace and love."

So what if it were? "Are you always so negative?"

"The real world isn't as bubbly as you make it seem. More often than not, people hurt each other. That's just what we do. It's how we're wired." He stands back up and nonchalantly glances down the road as if he didn't just say the most heartbreaking thing I've ever heard.

I find myself letting my thoughts run wild. He can't possibly think that? Has no one ever given the poor kid a hug? "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

He shrugs, watching the road. I know he's been hurt growing up, but I don't think it's fair to assume everyone will treat him the way his family did.

I decide his reasoning is completely unacceptable. "So what if there are some bad people out there. Not everyone hurts people. People aren't born bad. It doesn't matter where someone comes from or who they are, they get to choose who they become. That goes for you too, you know."

I can tell by his sullen expression he doesn't agree, but I don't care. I know it's the truth.

"You asked me why I talk so much: well, talking is my superpower. One word can change someone's entire day for the better."

"Is that so?"

I nod. "And I plan to change yours."

He side-eyes me. "Really?"

I cross my arms and hold my head high. "Consider yourself warned. I'm about to brighten your day."

So what if he hates the world? I'm determined to show him another perspective. I don't like knowing someone is as unhappy as he is when I know I can fix it.

"The bus is coming," he says, nodding toward it. Then, he reaches down and grabs my backpack. He slings it over his shoulder. The bright blue fabric stands out against his dark clothes.

"I can carry it," I say.

The bus stops in front of us, and the doors open.

"Don't bother," he replies, getting on the bus and not leaving any room for argument.

I'm not used to the version of Daniel who saves cats and holds bags. It makes me wonder if maybe Daniel isn't as bad as he appears.

I scan my card and follow him to his usual spot at the back. My bag is on his lap and that's where it stays the entire ride. He doesn't hand it to me or gesture for me to take it, and I have a feeling if I tried to take it, he'd refuse to hand it over. When we get to his stop, he slings it over his shoulder again and carries it the entire way to the house.

I have to admit, it's nice not carrying it. It's heavy and always leaves me winded when I carry it around, but I'm not used to someone else taking it.

Daniel heads inside the house, and I close the door behind us.

"I'm going to grab the picture. It's in my room," he says.

I follow him to it, stepping inside a room that doesn't feel like a bedroom. At least not Daniel's room. It's nothing like him. It's neat and sterile, like a hospital. The only sign that he belongs here is the bedside table. I spot the book Annie continually rants about. The one by Jules Verne.

I inch closer, picking it up .

"Don't touch that," he says, lunging toward me and ripping it out of my hands.

I stare back, wide-eyed. "Relax. It's just a book."

His expression softens, looking at the book and then back at me. "It's not just a book."

"What do you mean?"

He chews at his lip as if he's trying to decipher the situation and figure out his next move. "I don't know how to explain it." After holding it so tightly, he glances at me, and then he does the most unexpected thing. He carefully places it in my hands.

"You don't have to show it to me if you don't want to," I say. I'm not exactly sure what I stumbled onto, but all of a sudden, this is too personal. I know he's about to show me something I can guarantee no one else has seen.

"I want to." He sits down on the bed. He's nervous, feet twitching. "You already know more about me than anyone else. You might as well know about this too."

I sit next to him and open the book. It might be a Jules Verne story, but in every inch of empty space and margin are words written by Daniel. Poems. Statements. Pain.

"When I was little, I found this book with my mom's name written in the front. I thought if I read it, I'd understand her more, but I didn't make it past the first chapter. I was mad and tried to ruin it by ripping some of the pages out. Then I started writing in it—to vandalize it, I guess—and I've never stopped."

These words and poems are so sad. It's all the emotions he bottles up inside himself and never lets out.

"You probably think it's weird," he says.

"No." I close the book and hand it back. "If anything, I think it helps me understand you a little more. "

Daniel isn't scary. He's hurt. He's wounded and doesn't know how to heal. I realize more than ever how important it is for us to find his father. He needs to belong and feel wanted. His father could be the missing piece.

"Is that a good thing?" he asks, looking away as if he's afraid to see my reaction.

"Yeah." I feel the urge to wrap him in a hug, hold him together, but I resist.

In this moment I know I can't go through with my plan anymore. I don't want Daniel to scare Annie off. I think I should let Annie get to know him. She wasn't wrong to like him in the first place. Maybe they could be good together after all, or maybe they would end up being friends. Then they both wouldn't be so lonely.

He clears his throat and stands up. "The picture is over here," he says. He walks over to the desk on the other side of the room and picks it up. "It got a little wet."

The picture is a lot more damaged than I was expecting, but the girl is still visible.

A man knocks on the door and steps into the room. "Hey kids, I need to finish something for work," he says. He brings the phone back to his ear. "Sorry, Steve. Where were we?" He pulls out the chair at the desk and sits down.

Daniel nods toward the door, and I take the hint to leave. We wade in to the living room, and I sit down on the tan sofa in the middle of the room. Daniel's eyes wander around, clearly deciding whether or not he wants to sit beside me. There's another chair across the room, but slowly he sits down next to me.

"I thought that was your room," I say.

"Nothing in this house is mine." His tone is cold, making my heart hurt even more for him .

"Laura and her husband seem so nice. I bet if you gave them—"

"They only took me in because they felt like they had to," he says with a hardened expression. "Once I turn eighteen, I'm out of here."

I don't know if I believe that. I'm sure they care about him, but that's not what he wants to hear right now. Arguing about it would only make him feel like his feelings aren't valid, and I don't want to do that. Telling someone they're okay when they feel hurt doesn't solve anything. It just pushes them away.

I lean back on the couch and stare at the picture. "Can you tell me what you know about your mom?"

Daniel sits back too, following my gaze. "She grew up in Seattle. They didn't move here until I was born."

"Do you know what high school she went to?" I ask.

"No. I don't think Grandma ever mentioned it."

I hold the picture closer, squinting at the bleeding colors. "That's okay." I take out my phone and start typing in the search bar.

"Don't tell me you already found a clue."

I laugh. "I'm looking up a list of Seattle high schools. That way I can see which high school has the same colors as the gowns in the picture."

"I don't know why I didn't think of that," he whispers. He doesn't say much after that, but I can feel the weight of his stare on me, watching every movement I make.

It doesn't take me long to find the school. That's the easy part. Then I go through a series of web searches by changing my keywords. I search the school, the year they graduated, his mom's full name, along with "Meghan." I look through a bunch of irrelevant articles. Most of them are newer articles about kids with the same first names. There are even a couple with random people who have Daniel's last name. I need an old article, but his mom doesn't strike me as someone who would have their name listed on the honor roll.

After wasting a good ten minutes on that, I move on to my next best idea: social media. I start searching random hashtags with their graduating year until I see images pop up from their graduation. At first I don't see any with Meghan or Ashley, but then I notice Meghan's petite frame and bright blonde hair in the back of one image.

I gasp and turn to Daniel. "I found her."

Daniel's eyes are closed, and his head dips forward. He jerks his head back up but a second later it's falling again.

That can't be comfortable.

At first I pretend not to notice. I go back to analyzing the photo, trying to see if the random account I found has any other pictures of her, but I come up empty.

Out of the corner of my eye, Daniel's head continues bobbing.

He must be exhausted if he fell asleep so fast. I don't think I should wake him up, but I have to do something.

I don't have a lot of options. It's not like I can move him.

Slowly, I reach over, pausing midway because I'm second-guessing what I'm about to do.

His head dips again, falling against my hand.

My heart flutters, and I catch my breath. Carefully, I push him up, guiding his head to my shoulder because I don't know what else to do. I let him rest against me, and his face relaxes. His grimace is replaced with a soft expression. I've never seen him seem so peaceful.

I breathe in deep and refocus on my task, trying to ignore my fluttering heart and the fact that Daniel is so close. The picture I found is on an old account, but maybe if I message this person or some of the other people they have tagged, someone'll get back to me. They might have their old yearbooks. Or who knows, maybe they'll remember Meghan's last name. It's worth a shot. I start messaging any person I think might possibly be able to help. Now, I have to wait. It could be minutes or days—and that's if they respond at all.

"Is Daniel okay?" Laura asks as she comes inside.

I almost jump at her voice because I know I shouldn't be letting him rest on my shoulder. "Yeah, he's just sleeping." My voice is a little higher than it should be.

"I know," she says, watching him intently. "He never does that."

"What do you mean?"

"He has trouble sleeping here. I think he has nightmares."

Is that why he's always sleeping at school? Because he never gets a full night's rest? My chest tightens, and the urge to hug him comes back.

"Can I get you anything?" Laura asks, still unable to take her eyes off us.

I smile. "I'm okay, but thanks."

"Okay, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll just be in the kitchen making dinner. You'll stay for it, won't you? We'd love to get to know you more. You're the first friend Daniel's brought home."

"Sure, I'd love to."

Laura grins. "Perfect. I'll go get it started."

When she leaves the room, my attention drifts back to Daniel. He's so close I can smell the woodsy scent of his shampoo. He has three freckles. One under his eye and two on his cheek. His hair is a mess, scattered all over, bangs in his eyes .

I'm scared of the feeling building in me. I want to know the thoughts running through his head. What is he dreaming about?

My heart starts to race again as I run my hand through his bangs, brushing them out of his eyes. My hand lingers a little longer than it should as I let myself hold on to this moment, knowing that when he wakes up, I'll pretend it never happened. I'll remind myself that he's not mine. That there's no reason for me to get to know him.

I take a deep breath and start to pull away.

His eyes flutter open, and his hand covers mine, keeping it tangled in his hair.