Read Online The Lost Boys by Lilian Carmine - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lilian Carmine
Ads: Link
in guilt. “Mom?”
“Yes, honey?”
“I’m really sorry, for all this mess. I feel like this is all my fault. I should have known something was wrong, I mean, the signs were all there! He never left the cemetery; he was always there. And he never ever touched me, not even for a quick handshake. And he looked so lonely and so sad,” I said, looking down at my feet.
“Joey, please,” she interrupted, taking the pan off the heat for a second, turning to look at me. “This is nobody’s fault. Not yours. Not his. He must be feeling pretty scared right now, can you imagine? And he’s your friend, you obviously care a lot about him, so we’ll do our best to help him through this and support him, okay? Don’t worry about it. We’ll sort this out.”
I sighed in relief. “Thanks, Mom.” I knew I could always count on my mom. She was the best!
She gave me a comforting smile and a nod, and then turned back to her cooking.
“So,” she said, without looking at me, “this is the boy who’s been keeping you so busy since we’ve arrived, huh?”
“Huh. Yeah. This is him.”
“He’s really cute,” she said and I knew for sure she was sniggering, even though she had her back to me.
“Okay, Mom. I know where this is going,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“What? I didn’t say anything! I was just telling you my perception of his appearance, that’s all. He seems a lovely young man. Very handsome,” she said in a stern voice.
We heard someone clearing their throat close by and turned to see Tristan leaning against the doorframe. He was watching us, and something flashed across his eyes for a second. I thought of asking if he had overheard what my mom and I were talking about, but as soon as my wide-eyed gaze landed on him, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was absolutely speechless.
“Oh, my God! Look at you!” my mom exclaimed. “You look adorable!”
Adorable was definitely NOT the description that came to my mind. Smoking hot was more like it.
He was wearing baggy jeans – I guess my mom had chosen them to be sure they would fit – a bright blue T-shirt that hung perfectly on his body, and some sneakers. He looked very, very good. Very! His hair was a little messed up from pulling the shirt on, giving him – unintentionally – the look most boys favoured: the methodically messed-up hairstyle. His new look was so modern, so utterly different from his tidy hair and formal clothes from before. From monochrome to vibrant, vivid, ocean-blue colors. It was like an old photo coming alive, in a breathtaking image. He looked at us expectantly, waiting for a response.
“Is this all right?” he asked uncertainly. “It looks sort of strange to me. Not many kids visited the cemetery, so I don’t have much basis for comparison,” he mumbled, putting his hands inside his jeans pockets. “And they’re not like the jeans I wore when I was … um … alive.”
“Oh. It’s all right,” I answered slowly, trying to steady my voice. “It’s … good.”
“Come and sit, Tristan, your eggs and bacon are almost ready!” my mom said, beckoning him to the table and turning to me, mouthing a silent “Oh My God” . I shook my head in despair. I would never hear the end of this!
“Joey, dear, sit here, next to Tristan. I’ll get your plate ready! There’s bread and fruit as well. Help him out, honey!” she ordered, bustling round the kitchen.
We sat at the table and stared at each other. I looked into his strangely blue eyes.
“That’s odd. Your eyes are blue now,” I said curiously.
He looked down at his new shirt and smiled timidly. “Actually, they’re still gray. I’ve checked in the bathroom mirror. It’s color reflection, I think. The shirt,” he said, pointing to his blue shirt.
“So, if you were wearing a green T-shirt, you’d have green eyes, then?”
“I suppose so,” he said shrugging.
“That is so cool . You can change eye color.” I was a little jealous of
“Yes, honey?”
“I’m really sorry, for all this mess. I feel like this is all my fault. I should have known something was wrong, I mean, the signs were all there! He never left the cemetery; he was always there. And he never ever touched me, not even for a quick handshake. And he looked so lonely and so sad,” I said, looking down at my feet.
“Joey, please,” she interrupted, taking the pan off the heat for a second, turning to look at me. “This is nobody’s fault. Not yours. Not his. He must be feeling pretty scared right now, can you imagine? And he’s your friend, you obviously care a lot about him, so we’ll do our best to help him through this and support him, okay? Don’t worry about it. We’ll sort this out.”
I sighed in relief. “Thanks, Mom.” I knew I could always count on my mom. She was the best!
She gave me a comforting smile and a nod, and then turned back to her cooking.
“So,” she said, without looking at me, “this is the boy who’s been keeping you so busy since we’ve arrived, huh?”
“Huh. Yeah. This is him.”
“He’s really cute,” she said and I knew for sure she was sniggering, even though she had her back to me.
“Okay, Mom. I know where this is going,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“What? I didn’t say anything! I was just telling you my perception of his appearance, that’s all. He seems a lovely young man. Very handsome,” she said in a stern voice.
We heard someone clearing their throat close by and turned to see Tristan leaning against the doorframe. He was watching us, and something flashed across his eyes for a second. I thought of asking if he had overheard what my mom and I were talking about, but as soon as my wide-eyed gaze landed on him, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was absolutely speechless.
“Oh, my God! Look at you!” my mom exclaimed. “You look adorable!”
Adorable was definitely NOT the description that came to my mind. Smoking hot was more like it.
He was wearing baggy jeans – I guess my mom had chosen them to be sure they would fit – a bright blue T-shirt that hung perfectly on his body, and some sneakers. He looked very, very good. Very! His hair was a little messed up from pulling the shirt on, giving him – unintentionally – the look most boys favoured: the methodically messed-up hairstyle. His new look was so modern, so utterly different from his tidy hair and formal clothes from before. From monochrome to vibrant, vivid, ocean-blue colors. It was like an old photo coming alive, in a breathtaking image. He looked at us expectantly, waiting for a response.
“Is this all right?” he asked uncertainly. “It looks sort of strange to me. Not many kids visited the cemetery, so I don’t have much basis for comparison,” he mumbled, putting his hands inside his jeans pockets. “And they’re not like the jeans I wore when I was … um … alive.”
“Oh. It’s all right,” I answered slowly, trying to steady my voice. “It’s … good.”
“Come and sit, Tristan, your eggs and bacon are almost ready!” my mom said, beckoning him to the table and turning to me, mouthing a silent “Oh My God” . I shook my head in despair. I would never hear the end of this!
“Joey, dear, sit here, next to Tristan. I’ll get your plate ready! There’s bread and fruit as well. Help him out, honey!” she ordered, bustling round the kitchen.
We sat at the table and stared at each other. I looked into his strangely blue eyes.
“That’s odd. Your eyes are blue now,” I said curiously.
He looked down at his new shirt and smiled timidly. “Actually, they’re still gray. I’ve checked in the bathroom mirror. It’s color reflection, I think. The shirt,” he said, pointing to his blue shirt.
“So, if you were wearing a green T-shirt, you’d have green eyes, then?”
“I suppose so,” he said shrugging.
“That is so cool . You can change eye color.” I was a little jealous of
Similar Books
