“A little, just because of the girls going missing. It’s odd that she hasn’t at least called or texted me to let me know where she is.”
“Maybe she just got caught up doing something. Why don’t you try calling her?”
I found her number in my speed dial list and hit Send. No answer. It went to voicemail.
I felt my eyebrows furrow and I nibbled on my thumbnail.
“Text her,” Mick said. “I’m sure she’ll respond as soon as she gets it.”
What if she didn’t get it? What if she couldn’t?
I felt suddenly cold.
Chapter Eight
I wanted to trust him. To be able to tell him the truth. But I was still scared. If I could get him to trust me enough to talk about why he wanted his father dead, I might be able to trust him enough to tell him about my special talent.
We sat at the kitchen table, eating frozen mini pizzas that I’d added shredded cheese and extra pepperoni to. They were microwavable, so it didn’t take long for dinner to be done.
“So will your parents be worried?” I asked him, not wanting to be too obvious. “Do you need to call them?”
He shook his head. “I pretty much come and go as I like. My mother died a few years ago. Dad’s busy with meetings all the time.” He took a bite and chewed, rolling his eyes. “Pillar of the community and all.”
“Really? I’m sorry; I don’t know anything about him. Should I?”
“Depends on who you are, I guess. He’s thinking about running for mayor next election.”
“Wow,” I said, taking a sip of my mochacino. “Is that why you hang around the group home so much?”
He shrugged. “I guess. Just because your parents didn’t toss you out, doesn’t mean you’re not an orphan. You know?”
I nodded. “You feel like an orphan, huh?” Was I an orphan?
“Most days. But I’m fine. I can take care of myself. When Mom died, he didn’t exactly pick up the slack where child care was concerned. So he used to drop me off at the group home a lot. I’m closer to those girls and the people who work there than I’ve ever been to him.”
“I’m sorry, Mick. That sucks.”
“Yeah. Well.” He shrugged, trying to let on that it didn’t really bother him. “Could be worse.” He started on his second mini pizza. “What about you?”
I stiffened. This was it. Tell him the truth or not? “My father dropped me off at Delia’s when I was four. I haven’t seen him or my mother since.”
He paused before taking another bite. “Shit, Lore. That’s harsh. Why did he do that?”
I couldn’t do it. Not yet. I didn’t know him well enough. “I guess they changed their minds about being parents. I don’t know. I never asked.”
“That’s really weak.”
“Delia has been great. I love living with her.” I eyed my cell phone, which hadn’t rang or beeped. Worry twisted in my stomach, making me put the remaining half of my pizza down on my plate. “Where is she?”
“I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon. She must’ve just gotten caught doing something,” Mick said, but I could tell he was just trying to make me feel better, hoping she’d show up any minute.
So we sat, making small talk and looking out the kitchen window for Delia’s headlights in the darkness beyond, sticking together like two orphans.
***
Just as I was about to start calling Delia’s friends, and then the hospitals, I heard her car come up the drive.
We were leaning back against the opposite ends of the couch, just hanging out—me not wanting to give voice to the fear I felt about why Delia wasn’t home yet, and Mick trying to keep me calm. The beam of light from her headlights swept over our faces and I jumped up to look out the window, relief flooding me as I saw her car stop.
She kept her headlights on and the motor running.
I frowned. This was definitely out of character. Where else could she be going at this time of night? It was ten o’clock.
“What is it?” Mick asked me, noticing the look on my
“Maybe she just got caught up doing something. Why don’t you try calling her?”
I found her number in my speed dial list and hit Send. No answer. It went to voicemail.
I felt my eyebrows furrow and I nibbled on my thumbnail.
“Text her,” Mick said. “I’m sure she’ll respond as soon as she gets it.”
What if she didn’t get it? What if she couldn’t?
I felt suddenly cold.
Chapter Eight
I wanted to trust him. To be able to tell him the truth. But I was still scared. If I could get him to trust me enough to talk about why he wanted his father dead, I might be able to trust him enough to tell him about my special talent.
We sat at the kitchen table, eating frozen mini pizzas that I’d added shredded cheese and extra pepperoni to. They were microwavable, so it didn’t take long for dinner to be done.
“So will your parents be worried?” I asked him, not wanting to be too obvious. “Do you need to call them?”
He shook his head. “I pretty much come and go as I like. My mother died a few years ago. Dad’s busy with meetings all the time.” He took a bite and chewed, rolling his eyes. “Pillar of the community and all.”
“Really? I’m sorry; I don’t know anything about him. Should I?”
“Depends on who you are, I guess. He’s thinking about running for mayor next election.”
“Wow,” I said, taking a sip of my mochacino. “Is that why you hang around the group home so much?”
He shrugged. “I guess. Just because your parents didn’t toss you out, doesn’t mean you’re not an orphan. You know?”
I nodded. “You feel like an orphan, huh?” Was I an orphan?
“Most days. But I’m fine. I can take care of myself. When Mom died, he didn’t exactly pick up the slack where child care was concerned. So he used to drop me off at the group home a lot. I’m closer to those girls and the people who work there than I’ve ever been to him.”
“I’m sorry, Mick. That sucks.”
“Yeah. Well.” He shrugged, trying to let on that it didn’t really bother him. “Could be worse.” He started on his second mini pizza. “What about you?”
I stiffened. This was it. Tell him the truth or not? “My father dropped me off at Delia’s when I was four. I haven’t seen him or my mother since.”
He paused before taking another bite. “Shit, Lore. That’s harsh. Why did he do that?”
I couldn’t do it. Not yet. I didn’t know him well enough. “I guess they changed their minds about being parents. I don’t know. I never asked.”
“That’s really weak.”
“Delia has been great. I love living with her.” I eyed my cell phone, which hadn’t rang or beeped. Worry twisted in my stomach, making me put the remaining half of my pizza down on my plate. “Where is she?”
“I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon. She must’ve just gotten caught doing something,” Mick said, but I could tell he was just trying to make me feel better, hoping she’d show up any minute.
So we sat, making small talk and looking out the kitchen window for Delia’s headlights in the darkness beyond, sticking together like two orphans.
***
Just as I was about to start calling Delia’s friends, and then the hospitals, I heard her car come up the drive.
We were leaning back against the opposite ends of the couch, just hanging out—me not wanting to give voice to the fear I felt about why Delia wasn’t home yet, and Mick trying to keep me calm. The beam of light from her headlights swept over our faces and I jumped up to look out the window, relief flooding me as I saw her car stop.
She kept her headlights on and the motor running.
I frowned. This was definitely out of character. Where else could she be going at this time of night? It was ten o’clock.
“What is it?” Mick asked me, noticing the look on my
Similar Books
