The bus swayed, and footsteps sounded from the aisle until she saw the tips of black shoes standing even with her row. The driver. “Young lady.” The toe of his shoe tapped the floor.
She ignored him, turning to stare at her reflection in the window.
He tapped her shoulder. “This is my last stop of the night. You have to get off.” He seemed kind; then again, she looked like a teenager on a field trip. She knew the game; his caring manner wouldn’t extend to her after a month on the streets. “Do you have somewhere to go?” He was worried. “I can call . . .” And nosy.
She pushed to her feet, sidling out of the row and past him. “I’m fine, thank you.” She waved to him from the front of the bus. “My family’s meeting me here. Thanks for the ride!”
He didn’t look like he believed her, but she hopped to the pavement before he could say anything.
Resigned, she stood and trudged back inside, this time heading for the escalator that would take her to the street above. Her boots squeaked against the floor, and the sound bounced off the walls of the empty terminal.
Outside, the fluorescent lights of Union Station made the night seem unnaturally bright. But at the line where the light ended and the night began, Star paused. The last time she’d made the decision to try her luck on the streets she’d been a very different person.
Pine Lake had been a dream—everything she could have wanted in a home. It was nothing normal like Jeremy’s family, not with Lucy and her loose ends and crossword puzzles or Jess with her grief that ran through her like a current. But it was the first place Star had felt wanted. Her arms felt the firmness of Jess’s hug, the bowls of buttery popcorn she left out when she was studying, the way she paused outside her door every night. Star pressed her lips together. None of that belonged to her; it was meant for Chance, and Star was better off on her own.
She breathed in the layered smells of the city: oil-stained pavement, fryer grease from a fast-food restaurant across the street, the sweet pungency of piss-soaked gutters. Laughter bounced against the brick sides of the buildings.
There was nothing left for her in Pine Lake. She’d left everything that Jess needed to know under her pillow; it was up to her to figure out what to do about Lucy.
With a final look behind her, Star stepped into the night.
The scraping sound of skateboard wheels reached her as soon as she turned the corner to begin her long trek down the mall. She hunched her shoulders, lowered her head, and walked. But the disorganized chatter, the howls of laughter, and the skunky smell in the air made her heart race. She pressed a hand to her chest.
A group of six or so kids hung out in the center section of the mall. Ball caps pulled low, large hoodies cinched tight. Star tensed. Some lounged on metal benches and nailed-down chairs, and one or two rolled around on skateboards, flipping tricks against a low stone wall. She kept to the opposite side and trained her eyes on the glow of the clock tower a few blocks away.
But the smooth whir of wheels came up from behind her. “Hey there, baby girl. You got some change?”
She stiffened at the voice. It was the boy who had attacked her, Shred. She picked up her pace, hoping that if she ignored him, he would give up and leave her alone.
He rolled ahead and stopped, popping the board up and into his hands. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She tried to move past him, but he jigged first to one side and then to the other, cutting her off. “Hey now, what’s the rush?”
Her chin jutted out, and she looked up at the kid who stared down at her with red-veined eyes and yellow teeth. Large welts pitted his skin, the flesh stretched tight across his cheekbones. She remembered the feel of his body pinning her to the ground, and her legs began to shake. He leaned down, moving his face close to hers as though he needed a magnifying glass to see clearly. A smile pulled his lips into thin white lines, ghoulish. “Oh, it’s you.” He ran a finger along her collarbone. “Where you keeping your money these days?”
With her hair buzzed short and wearing only jeans and a sweatshirt, she felt exposed and vulnerable. But there was one thing she had learned during her months on the street: never show fear. She stood as tall as she could. “Don’t touch me, asshole,” she said through clenched teeth.
He leaned close until the stench of his breath blew across her face. “Crazy bitch.”
A hot rage built within her from his touch, his rotting breath. The taste of a life with walls and locks and friends like Jeremy had changed her. She didn’t belong here. She put her palms against his bony chest and pushed. He stumbled backward, landing hard on the pavement. He raised his eyes, but instead of anger he was laughing, so hard it shook his body. The sound chilled her to the core.
“Girl, you must have a fucking death wish.” He stood up, one foot on his skateboard, pushing it back and forth, and glanced over at the kids who watched the exchange, still as statues. One girl, her hair long and stringy under a wide-brimmed baseball cap, shook her head slowly from side to side.
Star squared her shoulders and began to walk away. No fear, she chanted, but he grabbed her elbow hard, and the force whipped her around until she faced him again. “You don’t scare me,” she said, her voice quavering.
He squeezed harder and twisted her arm until she cried out. “You know what’s funny?”
She didn’t answer.
“What’s funny is there was some dude looking for you this afternoon. Showing your picture around, sayin’ you were his long-lost daughter,” he said.
She was so surprised that for a second she forgot where she was and who she was talking to. A man was looking for her. Her heart fluttered. Could Jess want her to come home? The hope that flared with the thought died just as quickly. It left an empty feeling inside her chest.
The only reason they would want her to come back would be because of Lucy and the car. And she didn’t want anything to do with that.
“You don’t seem surprised. Where have you been, Star?” Shred smiled. “Said he’ll be back tomorrow. Offering dough to anyone with information.” He touched her shoulder, and the contact made her stomach turn. “Should I tell him where you’ll be, baby girl?”
There was only one reason he was telling her this. “What do you want, Shred?”
He shrugged and bent over to pick up his skateboard. “What I’ve always wanted.”
“I won’t sell for you.” Despite her words, her voice sounded small and weak.
“This is my street.” He poked the center of her chest with his finger.
She tried not to wince.
“And you can’t stay if you don’t play.” He poked her again, so hard it sent a wave of pain through her chest. “You need me.”
Her eyes watered, but she breathed deeply, crossed her arms. She might be back to where she’d started, but there was one thing that would never change. “I don’t need you,” she said. “I’m nothing like you.”
His laugh was a high-pitched howl. “Shit, right, ’cause you’ll be dead in a week.”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What’s funny is you think you have a choice.” He stared at her for a long moment before reaching around to grab the strap of her backpack and jerking so hard she fell, landing on her side. He yanked the strap hard again until the whole thing slid off her arms, and then he jumped on his skateboard with it slung over one shoulder.
She watched him roll across the street, her eyes glued to his rail-thin form. When he reached the middle island with the other kids, he spun, pinning her with his glare. His hand shot up, and he waved it slowly in the air. “Sleep well tonight, Star,” he called. The girl from before sniggered loudly.
CHAPTER FIFTY
JESS
“It won’t open, Lucy.” Jess had been pushing against the heavy outer door to Lucy’s house for a few minutes, and it still wouldn’t budge. “It’s never stuck like this before.”
She buzzed the doorbell, rattled the handle. Where was Star? She checked her phone once more. No messages. She had
n’t spoken to the girl or been able to get hold of her since early that morning when they left in the ambulance. Star hadn’t mentioned doing anything this afternoon, and when Jess had quizzed Jeremy during the car ride over here, he’d just shrugged, not meeting her eyes. He was acting suspicious, and Jess wondered what Star might have told him. Before she got the chance to ask, he’d left to drive Ebee home.
“Oh dear.” Lucy’s eyes rose to the top of the house. “Oh dear.” She wrung her hands, the lines around her mouth deepening into a frown.
“Lucy?”
“It’s empty,” Lucy said.
“What’s empty?”
Lucy pointed her curved index finger. “She’s gone.”
From behind Jess came a soft click. She turned and stared. A crack allowed a shaft of light from the foyer to peek out. The door was open.
Lucy pushed the door all the way open, and Jess was hit by the smell. Like someone had lit a match and then blown it out.
“Oh dear,” Lucy said again.
Something clattered down the stairs, hitting each step with a loud whack before skittering across the floor of the foyer and coming to rest at Jess’s feet. She bent to pick it up, and the hair on her arms stood on end. Chance’s rock.
“Star,” she called again, but the air absorbed her voice, making it too small for the big house.
“I told you—she’s gone.”
Jess raced upstairs, her stomach in free fall, and opened Star’s door. The room was empty, the bed made, and the dresses and the white nightgown had been laid across the edge. Her eyes scanned the room. No backpack. Jess sank onto the bed. Star was gone. But where? And why? Her gut twisted, and she doubled over, heart sinking.
Lucy stood in the doorway, pulling at the hem of her black sleeves.
“How did you know?” Jess asked.
Lucy backed away from the door and into the hallway, looking left, then right. “Oh dear.”
Jess shot up off the bed. Lucy’s eyes were wide and glassy, her soft cheeks pale. “Lucy?” Before she could reach her, Lucy turned and disappeared into her own bedroom. Jess hurried after her and found her sitting in her chair by the window, looking toward the lake. Her hands trembled, rattling the table in front of her.
Jess rushed to her side. “Lucy?” She sucked on her bottom lip, felt the rock snug in her palm. A chill crept up her back. “If Star’s not here, how did the rock roll down the stairs like that?”
Lucy whirled around, and her eyes were wide and bright blue.
“I suspect that was our other guest.” She rested her hands in her lap, one on top of the other.
“Other guest?” Jess’s voice trembled.
“Come now, Jess. You don’t know?”
“Know what?” But her mind was already on heart-shaped stones and a boy in a red sweatshirt.
“He made quite a racket under my bed that day.” Lucy sighed, looked down at her crossword puzzle. “But he doesn’t want to be here anymore without her.”
Jess opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Something cold and feathery brushed across the nape of her neck. And she inhaled the familiar scent of soap and coconut shampoo. Her heart thudded loud in her ears.
“A six-letter word for serendipitous, accidental,” Lucy said in a soft voice.
Jess’s palm flew to her chest. “Chance,” she whispered, even as a small part of her protested. It wasn’t possible.
Lucy laid the paper onto the table with a small smile and walked over to Jess. She touched her forearm. “That’s the right answer, Jess,” she said.
It came together like one of Lucy’s puzzles, and for the first time she allowed herself to see. The boy, her wrist, the rocks, her dreams. “He’s here?” she croaked.
“Yes.” Lucy looked around the room and seemed to sniff the air. “Not for long, though.”
Jess grabbed for the door to keep from falling to her knees, but it swung outward, and she landed with a thud on the wooden planks. Exhaustion settled like a blanket, weighing her down, and a headache formed as a stabbing pain behind her eyes. She pressed her palms against her head.
Lucy touched her shoulder. “Let’s get you up,” she said.
With great effort, Jess pushed up from the floor. Lucy led her to the big chair by her bed, and Jess sank deeply into the cushions. She laid her head back, closed her eyes, overcome. Her fingers tingled with the sudden longing to touch the smooth skin of her son’s cheeks, but the yearning to have something that was forever gone was unbearable. Tears ran unchecked down her face.
“You’re ready now, dear,” Lucy said quietly. “I’ll make us some tea.” Her footsteps sounded light on the rug.
Jess’s thoughts drifted from Chance to Star, each face overlapping the other until all she could see was Star, alone and huddled under a bench. Her eyes flew open. He doesn’t want to be here without her.
She tore out of the room and into the hall, her eyes searching the corners, the stairs, the bathroom, Lucy’s bedroom, for something, anything. Nothing. Was he gone? She leaned against the doorframe to her bedroom and clutched at her chest. She couldn’t lose him again.
“Please,” she cried. “Help me.” As if in response, the door to her bedroom was flung open, and she locked eyes with her son.
He sat on her bed, the curve of his jaw, the brown of his eyes, everything in heartbreaking detail. His feet dangled just above the floor, and she pressed a palm to her chest, pushed back against the painful beating of her heart.
For an achingly brief moment she could pretend they were back in their apartment. Like the past eight years had been a terrible dream. Like the accident had never happened. Her arms itched with memory. Of holding him, hugging him. She stepped into the room, her hand stretched out. If she could touch him one last time. Feel the softness of his curls. The smooth skin of his cheek.
“Chance?” she whispered.
He didn’t move. Not a twitch, a single blink. An unearthly stillness. She pressed a hand to her heart, felt the soft thump below her skin and ribs. Moved farther into the room. “Honey?”
Dust motes glittered like crystals in the air, and her breath shot out of her nose in white wisps. “Chance?” she repeated through frozen lips. Around her shadows twirled in a coordinated dance. She moved as though through water. With each step he grew fainter, and by the time she reached the bed he was gone. She cried out when her hand passed easily through the emptiness, and she crumpled onto the bed.
“What do you want, baby?” she croaked as she twisted the comforter in her hands. “Tell me, sweetheart,” she begged.
As she watched, a depression formed in the center of her white cotton pillow. She wiped her eyes and shifted closer, resting her palm into the soft indentation. Another one appeared beside her hand, small and round like the shape of a fist. She laid her head on the pillow, wanting nothing more than to feel his small body curled into her own.
“Chance?” she said, but the room absorbed his name. Shadows pulled from the corners, and the walls groaned around her. Her hands shook. From under the pillow, beneath her head, came the crinkle of paper that sounded too loud in the still room. She sat up, and then she saw it. A gray piece of newsprint peeking out. She pulled. Two newspaper articles paper clipped together. She flinched when she saw the headline.
Eight-Year-Old Boy Killed by Hit-and-Run Driver
In the other article, someone had underlined a quote from one of the residents. Just another night at the Lancaster. It was the same thing Star had said when she talked about her father’s death.
Stuck to the newspaper was a yellow Post-it. Star had written a note in small print that filled both sides of the square note.
I’m sorry I lied to you, Jess. Chance was my best friend. I came to your apartment, and he let me in because I was scared and sad. He said I could live with you. I’m so sorry, Jess. I forgot my other bonsai tree, the one from my mom that I kept for myself, so he came upstairs with me, but when we opened the door my dad was on the floor and something ba
d was happening to him. We ran as fast as we could. I think Chance was taking us to where you worked, but when the car came he pushed me out of the way. He saved my life. I don’t know how to say I’m sorry for taking your son away. It should have been me.
There was a small space, almost as though she’d been finished, and then it picked up again.
I think you are the one who’s supposed to check the shed. Lucy was right about everything except one thing. She’s the loose end. I hope you can forgive her; she’s a good person. Star
The shadows retreated, and the room lapsed into stillness, warmth returning. He was gone. She clutched the article, tears blurring her eyes so that she couldn’t read. He’d left the apartment to help his friend, and he’d been running to Jess. She covered her face with her hands, breathing out long ragged breaths until her tears eased.
She read the note again. She’s the loose end. Check the shed.
She scanned the article, but nothing about it was new to her. Nobody could identify the car except for one man, who told the police he saw a red car with a banana-yellow hood. Her nails dug into her thigh, and she gripped the article. Check the shed.
She hurried from the room and down the stairs. Ebee and Lucy sat across from each other at the kitchen table, each holding playing cards. Jeremy sat hunched in a chair by the window, head in his hands, looking sad.
Jess pulled at her earlobe, feeling sluggish, her body reluctant to do what Star had asked her to do. She was afraid to see what was inside the shed, afraid it would tear her apart all over again. She looked at Ebee. “I thought Jeremy took you home.”
Ebee’s eyes crinkled. “Jeremy’s dad thought he saw Star get on a bus this morning.” She gave Jeremy a warm smile. “We thought you two might be needing us.”
The Secrets of Lost Stones Page 27