The Boy without a Name

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

After that night, life seemed to carry on in ordinariness. We all went to school the next day without any of us being controlled or any serious injuries. I mentally added this day to the few that none of us were barely escaping death. However, that didn’t mean we could avoid cold, hard reality.

There was an empty desk in the back of the room in my AP Government class and an announcement on the intercom for the life that had been lost. Claire Uptman. Claire Uptman was the name of the girl who’d been shot in the woods and the girl that was mourned throughout the entire school. Right before third period, I passed by her locker which had been turned into a memorial, letters and pictures taped hastily to it. When I saw the picture of her face, alive and beaming, a shudder went through me and I silently sent a message to her, saying I was sorry that she’d gotten involved and making a promise that I’d do whatever it took for justice.

I swore I heard a small ‘thank you’ in response.

Paying attention in class throughout the day became increasingly difficult as what Derek had stated resurfaced. When I’d asked him for help, he’d said, ‘I don’t know anything, but I’m sure you do.’ Derek was the type who liked to do this, who liked to plant seeds in your head that held more meaning than he led on, making you insane trying to figure out what it was. Which is what it did, the idea being tossed back and forth in my mind all day. How was I supposed to know anything about what was going on lately? Did it all come back to me?

Thinking so much about it left me more puzzled than I had been before, so I tried to focus on the mundane task of taking notes, which worked for a small while until Derek’s words would come floating back. When lunch rolled around, I was appreciative for the distraction, Stiles and Scott cracking jokes and Allison and I rolling our eyes as usual. Overall, it was a fairly typical day. What wasn’t so typical was coming home to find my mom cooking dinner.

“Mom? Why are you home so early and are you feeling okay?” I asked, pointing towards the crockpot on the stove. Being a single parent, my mom worked late hours and rarely ever was home early enough to make anything other than frozen pizza.

“I just thought we could have dinner together for once,” she replied, brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. She always said I got my red hair from my dad.

“Well, it smells delicious,” I half-sang, going over and giving her a kiss on the cheek. A proud smile grew on my mom’s face and mine mirrored hers as hope blossomed that maybe things were back to normal for a while.

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‘Ding’ a sound came from my window, ‘ding, ding, da-ding.’ It startled me and I dropped my pencil. Cautiously, I pushed the chair back from my desk and tiptoed to the window. I pulled back the purple drapes and peered outside to see where the noise was coming from. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find, but it sure as hell wasn’t Stiles in plaid pajama bottoms and an old, tight-fitting white t-shirt, small rocks in his hand. He had literally been throwing pebbles at my window. It was something I thought only happened in movies, but I couldn’t help the smile that lit up my face.

“Stiles,” I whispered, “What are you doing here?”

“Just on a late night stroll,” he shrugged, not bothering to keep his voice down “The usual.”

I brought a finger to my lips. “Shh!”

“Oh!” Stiles’s brown eyes widened, “Right.”

“Really, though, why are you here? It’s almost midnight,” I pointed out.

Stiles looked up at me then at his feet, hands in his pockets. He licked his lips, a nervous habit of his I’d picked up on over the years. “I’m still having trouble sleeping,” he revealed, “So there I was, just...just laying in bed, thinking over everything that’s happened you know? With me and with, with everyone really. I just thought that if I could see you, you know just talk to you, that maybe everything would suddenly be okay. And I was right.”