Page 5 of Lost Boy
* * *
I’m startled out of sleep when my bedroom door opens loudly and abruptly. I shoot up in bed, familiar with this dance, ready to hop out and defend myself. I was so exhausted I must have passed out, despite being in a new environment.
“Shit!” The loud shout turns into a hushed whisper. “Dude. I’m so sorry. Lemme just, I’ll just. . .” The giant silhouette illuminated by the hallway light retreats quickly, shutting the door silently like he doesn’t want to wake me. Even though I’m sitting straight up, my chest heaving involuntarily.
Fuck.
That must have been the boyfriend’s son.
I close my eyes and attempt to clear the confusion and vulnerability away, taking a deep, calming breath. I scrub a hand over my face.
I don’t likeanyonebursting in while I’m asleep.
Commotion out in the hall has me flopping back down and hoping whoever’s out there doesn’t take this impromptu wake-up call as an open invitation to come and say hello. I glance at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock and note that it’s nine pm. Guess I’ll be up all night now. I know better than to mess up my sleep schedule, but this unexpected jet lag has thrown me and my body for a loop.
After Uncle Joel and I stopped for toiletries and something to eat, we drove another hour north from the airport to Acadia Lake.
It was dark when we pulled up, but the landscaping lights illuminated Uncle Joel’s well-maintained, two-story home with flower pots on the front steps and a wooden porch swing. A real home. One that he obviously takes pride in. Not the rundown trailer I lived in for five years that smelled like stale cigarettes and booze.
Loud giggles and that same deep voice seep through my door, slightly muffled, so I slip my headphones on to tune it out. I grab my notepad and a black Sharpie before lying down and scribbling out whatever lyrics filter into my brain. I wish I still had my guitar, but Mom’s boyfriend sold it last year to pay for their habits.
I hum along to the beat and just write without thinking. It doesn’t take much for me to get lost in the lyrics and melodies in my head, and before I know it, three hours have passed. Now, it’s midnight.
I crawl out of bed in my black flannel pants and no shirt. The hardwood is cold against my bare feet as I pad over to the plastic bags from the drugstore. I grab the little caddie Uncle Joel insisted I get and fill it with my shower things, including both boxes of hair dye.
I stick my head out of the bedroom door and peer into the dark, deserted hallway. Uncle Joel told me his partner and kids were coming over for a late dinner but not to feel pressured to come downstairs and meet them if I was tired. There will be plenty of time for that later.
So I didn’t.
Now that I know they’re gone, and it looks like my uncle is in bed, I sneak down the hallway to the bathroom and slip inside, locking it behind me just in case. I set my supplies down and stare at myself in the mirror.
A black eye and smudged eyeliner outline a lifeless blue-gray stare. My dirty blond roots are starting to show—my half-pink, half-black hair isn’t maintained. It’s nearly chin-length, too, and in complete disarray. My lips are full, but my cheeks are slightly hollow. A silver hoop hugs my bottom lip perfectly, encouraging me to chew on it every time I remember it’s there.
I probably look like a mess, but as always, I can’t find it in me to muster up the energy to care.
I’m numb.
The way I want to be. The way I strive to be. I’ll pour feelings into my words and lyrics, but I don’t want to actuallyfeelthem.
It makes no sense. And I’m fine with that.
My stomach growls loudly, but I can’t help myself to someone else’s food without asking. I can wait for breakfast.
I get busy on my hair instead, re-dying the black before stripping the pink and switching to neon blue. While my color sets, I take off my chipped nail polish and re-paint them with the new, long-lasting black.
Guess I’ll wear a black hoodie and black jeans tomorrow. I don’t have many options. I actually wish I had the uniform now.
An hour later, my hair looks sick, threatening to pull a smile from me for once. There’s nothing I can do about the black eye, but I’m happy with this small upgrade.
I amble down the hall, freshly showered and newly painted, ready to crawl back into my bed and write down the melodies swirling around in my head until I fall asleep. I need to be ready to roll out of bed in a few hours for my first day at Acadia Lake Preparatory Academy.
* * *
A dark shadow hovers over me at the lunch table, where I’m sitting, minding my own business. Uncle Joel walked me to the front office, where I signed in, gathered my schedule and books, and had an otherwise uneventful first morning at my new school. I looked forward to a quiet lunch, reading over my latest lyrics, before starting Advanced Music Studies. The one class I’ve actually been a tiny bit excited for.
“Hey. Can I sit here?”
I glance up and eye the behemoth standing in front of me from behind my curtain of blue hair, wondering why he’s asking this on my first day here.
