Lost & Found
Serena Lindahl
Copyright © 2019 by Serena Lindahl
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Serena Lindahl
Chapter 1
Senya
I try not to watch, but I really can’t help myself. It’s a train wreck, and I’m lying on the tracks.
I arrive early and sit in the back of the class, my body vibrating with tension. I know they might come. I'd managed to mostly avoid them for the last three years except for the few mandatory classes I couldn’t change. But this class – it was one of our dreams. When we were kids and camping in our backyards, we talked about making a book together. Aric loved to draw, Apollo ran around taking pictures with a cheap camera, Orion liked writing journal articles, Manny designed websites and graphics on the computer, and I wrote my stories and poems. So many things brought us together as kids, mostly that we all lived on the same block, but that one thing suggested we might be able to take our friendship beyond our childhoods. And then, boom. My life fell apart and everything good morphed into horror and betrayal.
If I truly didn’t want to see them again, all of them, why the fuck did I sign up for this class? The story I tell myself is that I need it for my portfolio for college, even if college is years away for me, unlike everyone else in my senior class. What I only admit at night in my dreams is that I miss them. Except I miss who they used to be, who I used to be.
None of us are the same anymore.
Manny enters first, and I study him from under a fall of black curly hair as he takes his seat up front and arranges everything neatly on his desk. A genius when we were kids, I’m surprised he’s still even in high school. I’d bet money he could have graduated early. He takes one look around the room before sitting down, but I can’t read his expression when his eyes flick over me.
Out of the four boys, I’d thought I’d at least stay friends with Manny. He and I had been family at one point. Then that summer – bam – a car had killed both his mom and my dad – who’d been very happily married. We’d been sent to different homes, and Manny’s biological dad had moved them away for middle school. Oh, he tried to talk to me when he arrived back so suddenly in the first year of high school, but I’d brushed him off. Things were different. And I’d blamed him. Maybe a tiny part of me still blamed him. Or hated him. He’d had a life after our parents died. Mine died with Dad. But that wasn’t all. He ignored me when I needed him most.
The brothers enter next. They’re the ones I wasn’t sure would show up. They’re also the ones I don’t watch come into the room. I don’t have to. I know exactly what they look like and exactly how they swagger in with girls twittering around them, even as I can’t help but glance up at the shadows their large bodies make across the room. The click of high heels and silly giggles of some of the socialites follow them, right on cue. They’re actually ten months apart, but most people don’t know that. Their parents wanted them to go to school together, and they’d just decided they wanted to be twins and perpetrated the story. Manny, Aric, and I had thought it great fun fooling all the other kids.
I grimace at my notebook, crossing out the nonsense words I had just written. My earbuds are in my ears, but I’m not actually listening to any music right now. I like being aware, but still untouchable when I have to be.
“Orion, what kinda stupid class is this?”
The condescending voice makes my heart stop. I hadn’t realized the brothers brought their buddy with them. Jack Danvers, asshole extraordinaire. He loves to taunt me, and although he usually doesn’t do it around the brothers, I don’t think that’s just a coincidence. They don’t give a shit. My pen digs into my notebook when his attention veers my way.
“Ah, if it isn’t little miss goth girl. Whatcha doing tonight, Senny? Cooking up frogs’ eyes for a potion? Ain’t nothing gonna make you taller, babe. But…” The shadow leaning over my desk gets closer. “I could hold you up if you ask real nice.” His crotch is level with my desk. He jerks his hips in my direction as if he needs to point out that he wants to hold me up with his dick. Behind him, I hear a chair screech, but I don’t look up to see anyone else’s reaction. I don’t care. I ignore him. And he hates it.
Jack’s breath reeks of old coffee when he leans even further over me, trying to peek under the hair that hides my face. “I’m talking to you, dark angel. Whatcha doing tonight? Wanna come over?”
“Lay off, Jack.”
I hide my disappointment that it isn’t one of the brothers that come to my rescue. Instead, Aric passes by the other side of my desk, and both guys lean over my table. I assume they’re glaring at each other over my head.
“For fuck’s sake, give me some air,” I hiss finally.
It’s not me, but the nice old Mrs. Desmon coming in that finally makes Jack move away. I take a deep breath, not realizing that I’d been holding it. Even though I trust Aric, I don’t like both of them caging me in like that. Jack mutters something under his breath, and when he turns around, I release the death grip on my pencil. My hand hurts from holding it so tight.
Aric catches my eye as he moves behind me and I nod at him. He knows I don’t need his help, but I’m glad he stepped in anyway. The last thing I need right now is another suspension. Aric is the only one I still talk to, but I don’t know if I’d call us friends. We never talk about anything personal, but I see a kindred soul in him. His family life started sucking the same time mine did. Although he doesn’t say it, I know he deals with some of the same crap I do. We nod at each other from time to time and get together for coffee once a month, but that’s it. It always feels like something’s missing when we get together – the ghosts of three other people.
When I lift up my head to pay attention to Mrs. Desmon, I feel twin stares on me. My teeth grit together. I won’t look their way. Not when they let their douche friend push me around. Them being quiet is one thing; laughing at me with their asshole buddy is another. I’d thought that the years would have stopped me from caring, but they haven’t. I hate it.
Taking out my earbuds so I don’t get yelled at, I listen in a half-stupor while the teacher goes over how special this class is and how we’re all honored to be there. How Jack got in is a miracle, really. Only people with real talent or interest take this Creative Media class. As I look around the
room, though, I’m surprised at the faces I see. I think half of them are Apollo and Orion’s football and cheerleader clique, and I wonder who paid who to get that to happen. I almost release a loud groan. This is not what I was looking forward to. Three years with only the crowded, huge classes together, and then this.
What the fuck was I thinking? Maybe it’s not too late to drop the course.
My dread increases when Mrs. Desmon starts explaining that this isn’t a typical class. For the whole semester, we’ll work in groups to develop our own creative media. Whether that’s a website, a children’s book, a comic book, a screenplay, or something else: she doesn’t care as long as we all put in our share.
I’m not the only one that groans about a group project, although the cheerleaders and football guys are already nudging each other and getting excited. I can work with Aric. But anyone else? Might as well stamp “does not play well with others” on my forehead.
“To make sure that the groups are fair, I’ve assigned them.” Mrs. Desmon’s voice cuts off every single whisper. I swear I can hear the cars on the street outside; it’s that quiet. No teacher dares assign groups; it’s like asking for a lynching, high school style. “As a reminder,” she continues in a not unfriendly voice, “you were all asked to write a paragraph about why you wanted to take this class and what you feel your strengths are. I’ve grouped you so that each group has a variety of talents.”
She picks up a stack of colored paper. It’s a small class for such a large high school, and there are only about four colors, so I’m guessing five to six people a group. My heart starts beating harder and I think about changing classes again. I’m not sure I can. I got in trouble last semester for changing too much, and I need another English credit. And if I can actually get to college, this will look really good for my degree in creative writing.
“On these papers are the names and specialties of each of your team members. I’ve color-coded them in case you aren’t familiar with each other. I expect you to take the rest of the class getting to know your group and discussing your assignment.”
It feels like I’m being marched to the gallows while I wait for the colored papers to be handed out. I watch like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Blue. That’s what color she hands both of the brothers. It’s incredible she knows some of the faces. I’ve had classes with her before, but I’m not sure we all have. She must have studied the school files with the photos. Orange and red papers get handed among the football and cheerleader group. Jack grumbles when he gets a green one that matches kids I don’t think I’ve ever seen before - probably nerds from the yearbook committee. I almost laugh, but it’s really the other kids I’m worried about. I’m sure they’ll be doing all the work.
Manny gets a blue one, and he looks around to see who he’s working with. He sees the brothers and waves, and my brows draw together. Have they been talking to each other? It sure looks like the brothers don’t mind Manny in their group. I never see any of them outside of school, but I know the three don’t associate in school. They’re too different. Finally, Mrs. Desmon approaches the corner Aric and I occupy, two sheets of blue papers in her hand.
My fingers shake as I go down the list. It’s the five of us, with the specialties we’d all dreamt of as kids. What are the odds? And what the fuck am I going to do?
Chapter 2
Orion
Sometimes, I feel like Apollo and I are twins. Our brains run on the same wavelength. Other times, I’m ashamed to be related to him. He clenches the paper in his hand and stands up with his back to the rest of the room, leaning into me. The paper flaps in my face like I don’t have one myself.
“Did you do this?” he growls at me. Despite his outward irritation when we walked in the class, he wants to be here. We’ve been planning on taking it since ninth grade. That Jack and the rest of our group decided to join us was a double-edged sword. I still would have been happy about it if the other three didn’t show up. It was a long shot. But they’re here. And we’re all supposed to work together.
I stand up and meet his dark green eyes, so like my own. We’re the same height, even though I’m ten months older. “Don’t be a douche,” I mutter in a low voice. “And try not to ruin this the first day. It’s a group just like any other.” He knows I’m lying. We don’t talk about it much, but we both miss them. We still talk to Manny, but Aric and Senya became impossible to get close to again after we all wound up in the same high school. You’d think I’d have gotten over it after three years, but my chest still tightens every time she walks down the hall.
I edge past him. It will take him a second to adjust to the situation, but then he’ll be grateful. He misses her as much as I do, and Aric was such a good friend. It’s sad to just let them go without trying one last time.
Manny is already collecting his books, and he drags his bag over to where Aric and Senya sit. Aric has turned his desk towards the three empty ones around them, but Senya just stares at the paper like it’s going to blow up in her face. Finally, she takes a deep breath and turns her desk. But there’s this curtain over her face. Her eyes dance with the shadows that have been there ever since her dad and Manny’s mom – who were happily married – died in a car accident. She had to move in with her biological mother. We all knew it wouldn’t be a good thing. The woman wanted nothing to do with Senya when she was a kid. No one could do anything about it, though. We’d wanted to help, but Dad sent us to football camp. Nothing we said could change his mind. When we came back, everything was different.
I push the past away and sink into one of the desks next to Aric, across from Senya. I’ve watched her for the last three years but never really had the balls to talk to her. Not surprising considering the few times I tried to, I felt emasculated by her look of disapproval.
It’s different being so close to her. Her dark hair, always long when we were kids, is shorter now. It hangs in loose curls around her head, falling around her chin. She likes to hide behind it, including the bangs that are a little too long and hide her pretty blue eyes.
Manny fist-bumps my brother and me before settling into his seat. Everyone thinks Manny is some superbrain and nerd – which he totally is – but he’s also the captain of the swim team and has none of the social awkwardness that most nerds have. And while my brother might seem like the hothead, it’s actually Manny. His hands shake, but it’s not nerves. He’s upset about this – probably worried that it’s going to blow up in his face. Senya always kept him grounded and peaceful. If she rejects him again, even just for a class project, he might go off the deep end.
“So – this is funny,” I joke, always the one that tries to loosen the tension.
Senya snorts and looks away, sucking her lower lip into her mouth in such a way it makes me want to squirm in my seat. I can’t stop staring at her. She’s one of those girls that the guys in the locker room talk about – hot, but untouchable because of her ice princess routine. As far as I know, she doesn’t have any friends besides Aric – which I admit makes me feel jealous as fuck. How come he still gets to be her friend but we didn’t even get a second chance? He isn’t the only one that makes me jealous, though. Every time Jack or one of the other guys mentions her, I want to put my fist in their mouth. Apollo has actually done it, and we’ve had to hold Manny back numerous times.
When no one speaks, I clear my throat and try again. It’s not like me to be serious, but I don’t think anyone else is going to talk. “Is this going to work?”
I truly want to know. Apollo might rely on his football scholarship, but my dream hasn’t changed since I was a kid. I still want to major in journalism. If I have to play football to pay for it, I will, but this class is considered the best at our school as far as any of my prospective colleges care.
There’s a moment of awkward silence. Aric, sprawled in his chair, watches us. He was always the quiet one – the sweet peacemaker. He’s changed a lot. No longer the scrawny kid, he’s almost taller than Apollo an
d I. I see the girls trying to catch his eye, though. The ones that don’t want a football player want a guy like him – long hair, aloof and brooding – like he’s some kind of mystery they want to solve. He shares a look with Senya, and I almost snap my pencil in my fist. I want her to look at me like that – like I’m someone she’ll lower her guard for.
Apollo grunts and I know it for what it is. He won’t fight against us.
“I don’t have a problem,” Aric says. He glances at the paper in his hand. “It looks like we’re all doing different stuff, and it could make a really good project.”
I’ve noticed the same, and part of me wonders if we all unconsciously hung onto this small thing as a way to retain our friendship. Even Apollo, who acts like he doesn’t care about anything but football, still spends his time taking pictures and private photography lessons at the Center for the Arts downtown. Photography is as important to him as football. Only I know how many of those candid pictures are of Senya.
“I’m glad it’s you guys,” I say, needing to release more of the tension. Manny is just staring at Senya like he can bore a hole through her with laser vision. His intensity can be unnerving, and I want to reach past my brother and slap him before he scares her away.
Four male gazes settle on Senya, and she squirms in her chair. She fidgets a lot. Right now, she’s tugging on the frayed edges of the sleeves of her tight, long sleeved shirt. I try not to notice how it stretches across her chest, but I’m a teenage boy. This won’t be the first time I’ve looked. It’s clear that she’s grown up in every sense of the word. I just wish that didn’t mean we had to grow apart.
Lost & Found: Contemporary Reverse Harem Page 1