The Lost Boys (2 page)

At that moment, I was lost in his eyes. He seemed so surprised that he wasn’t even blinking, his gaze locked upon mine, like he was in a trance of sorts. It took me a while to feel able to produce coherent conversation again.

“Hey. Hi, sorry, I was just … wondering if you could help me find my way back to the main gate? I’m a little lost,” I said, still entranced by his gaze.

He blinked a couple of times now, like he was trying to snap himself out of his own stupor, and slowly looked around, as if to check I was really speaking to him. There was no one else around. Of course I was speaking to him!

“W-what?” he stuttered.

I frowned. What a strange boy! Maybe I had been wrong to think his beautiful looks were matched by a sharp mind. He seemed to be having a hard time understanding what I was saying.

“Can. You. Help. Me? Do you know a way out of here? I’m a little lost,” I asked again, unable to keep the mocking tone out of my voice. I spoke loudly and slowly, like I was talking to a small child. Or a very stupid person.

It was his turn to frown. “You don’t need to talk like that! I’m not an idiot, miss!” he said, offended. “I was just … surprised, is all … that you’re talking to me.”

Okay. That was definitely odd. And he wasn’t making any sense. And he talked funny. Calling me “miss”. Clearly Esperanza was more old-fashioned than I’d first feared. That or he was crazy. And there I was, all alone with a crazy boy, in an abandoned old cemetery. Commonsense dictated that I should get the hell out of there, and fast.

“Okay, sorry to bother you. You’re obviously …” Mental, I thought. “… busy right now, so I’ll just go, then. I’m sure I can find the way out myself, “I muttered, stepping away slowly so as to not startle the clearly deranged boy in front of me.

“No, wait!” he said, jumping off the tomb. He moved very softly and elegantly, I noticed, like an athlete. “I’m so sorry, miss! You must think I’m crazy, or something,” he said, smiling the sexiest smile I have ever seen.

And I mean that; it was the most breathtaking, beautiful and honest smile I had ever seen in my whole life! It made my heart skip a beat. My resolve to get the hell away from him faltered and vanished in the brightness of his smile. “Or something,” I muttered quietly, and glanced down in nervousness, but he heard me anyway and chuckled.

“That’s all right. I assure you I’m not crazy, though. And I can help you find your way out. We’re almost in the centre of the cemetery. It’s a long walk from here to the front gates. You want the main entrance, I presume?” he asked, walking over to me.

I nodded. He was now standing a few inches from me and I could see his face in detail. He had a thin straight nose that defined his face, a strong, square jaw and, currently, a playful smile at the corners of his full lips. He had broad shoulders and a lean, athletic build. He was taller than me, but that isn’t hard since I’m a shortie. He was staring down at me with those odd, piercing gray eyes.

“Who gets
‘a little’
lost anyway?” he finally asked after a moment of silence. He looked properly amused now.

“What?” I asked, confused – and in truth, I’d got a little lost again, this time in his eyes.

“You said a while ago that you’re
a little lost
,” he said. “Either you are lost, or you aren’t. Don’t you agree?”

“Um … I don’t know. I know where I am. I’m in the cemetery. I just don’t know where exactly in the cemetery. That could be considered a ‘little’ lost. Because it’s not completely lost,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly, resting my case.

He let out a loud laugh. The breeze had picked up and some leaves twirled around us, and there was that carnation scent again, enveloping me.

“Maybe you do have a point,” he conceded, turning to his left. “Come on. I’ll show you the way out.” He was already walking away.

I ran to keep up with him and those long legs of his. “Hey, you’re not, by any chance, a murderer leading me to some secret spot where you kill and bury all your victims, are you?” I asked in a serious tone.

“A murderer?’ He looked puzzled.

“You know … a crazy killer who’s waiting for innocent lost girls to come ask for directions …”

Now he looked slightly bemused by my vivid description. “I’m not a criminal, miss. Or a murderer. Though if I were a crazy killer, well, I would probably lie to you about it. So you’ve got yourself in a pickle there,” he said, laughing. “However, you’re the one looking like you’ve been burying stuff here. You do know there’s dirt all over your face, your clothes … and a bit in your hair, too?”

I dusted myself off, embarrassed as hell. “I-I just had an incident with a gigantic vase of flowers on the way here,” I said, blushing beet-red. God! He must think I’m the crazy one now! Damn those stupid flowers! “So … what’s your name?” I asked casually, trying to divert the subject from my grubby shabbiness.

He gave me a sideway glance, but continued walking, a little slower now. It took him some time to answer me. Which I thought was strange.
Once again.
He was definitely gaining points in the “odd” department.

“I’m Tristan,” he stated and gave me a cautious look.

Tristan. It was a weird, old-fashioned name, which seemed to suit him. I didn’t dare say anything, though. Not with my history; with my
curious
name. I would never throw stones at other people’s glass roofs when I have a crystal-thin one of my own. “Nice to meet you, Tristan,” I replied simply.

He side-glanced me again, a suspicious look in his eyes. “What? No funny jokes? No teasing? No smirking whatsoever?” he asked defensively.

“Why? It’s a beautiful name,” I said with a serious face. “It’s from the Tristan and Isolde legend, right? He was a knight and there was something about a secret affair, or something like that, yes? I don’t remember the whole thing right now. But it’s a lovely story.”

“Yeah. That’s right. My mom had a thing for these sappy old romantic books,” he mumbled darkly, and then raised an enquiring eyebrow at me.

“What?” I asked defensively. “I pay attention in English, that’s all! And it so happens that the Tristan and Isolde tale is fabulous, not sappy at all, and I honestly enjoyed reading it very much. You know it’s not pathetic to enjoy reading books!” I finished lamely. I caught him trying to stifle a laugh.

We walked for a while, me silently fuming in self-righteousness, him trying hard not to laugh at my silly fuming. I noticed he was slowing his pace.

“Well, I do think Tristan is a really nice name. Plus, who am I to make jokes? When I have a freaking glass roof,” I mumbled, kicking a small pebble on the ground.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, clearly confused. He really did talk funny, but maybe that was an Esperanza trait.

He stopped a few seconds later when he realized I had stopped walking, and turned to look at me with a half-curious, half-confused face.

“My name is Joe. Joe Gray,” I said, and squinted my eyes, daring him to make fun of me.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, straight faces on.

“Joe, huh?” he said, squinting his eyes back at me. “It’s a fine name.”

“Right,” I said.

“Right,” he replied.

I eyed him suspiciously for a second and then we both resumed walking, at an even slower pace. I wondered how much slower we could get.

“So, Joe …” he began. “Does your mom suspect by now that you’re not actually a boy?”

“Does yours suspect you’re not a real knight from the twelfth century?” I snapped back at him.

He gave another of those sharp laughs of his. My stomach fluttered a little at the sound.

“Ouch. Okay. Now that we’ve gotten
that
out of our systems, I’m calling a truce,” he pleaded, and then he cleared his throat and invoked with a serious voice: “There will be no more name callings, my Lady Gray; that shall be my first commandment, true knight that I am.”

“Well, you started it!” I laughed at him.

“Yes, yes. But now we can laugh about it and move on, without the two big elephants in the room to bother us,” he said in an appeasing tone. “And also, you look nothing like a boy, so it shouldn’t bother you that much.”

“My father really wanted a boy, and my mom wasn’t too much attached to gender conventions. And she also liked the name, so …” I mumbled, kicking another stone.

“Well, now that I know you, I can’t imagine you having any other name, Joe,” he said, flashing me his stunning bright smile. “Though I prefer Joey.”

The nickname sounded strangely heartwarming coming from his mouth. “Thanks, Tristan,” I said, blushing.

We had left the older part of the cemetery by now, and flowers in varying states of decay adorned some of the graves. Even the air seemed fresher and newer. A soft breeze brushed through my hair, making it flow like in the movies. I took a quick glance at Tristan and saw him looking at me with a strange expression on his face. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly, avoiding my searching gaze.

“So, Joey, if I may call you that, are you here visiting a … family member? Should I be offering you my condolences?” he asked uncomfortably.

“What? Oh. No, no! No one died,” I answered, and he looked relieved. “I live just at the end of the block, and I was helping this old lady, my new neighbor actually, to bring some flowers to her husband’s grave.”

“Oh, you mean Miss Violet and Bobby?” he asked.

“Do you know her? She brought these flowers in this freakishly heavy vase. I swear to you, it weighed tons! I think it was made of iron. That’s the reason I’m all covered in dirt, by the way,” I said, eager to explain my current grubby state to him. “How about you? Are you … visiting?”

He looked around before answering me. “No. Not visiting. I’m here most days. I like to hang around here. It’s quiet and nice … and no one bothers me.”

“Oh. So you live nearby too?” I asked curiously.

“Yes. I live nearby. But I mostly just walk around in here. Killing time, you know how it is …” And he trailed off.

“You like to spend your time alone in a deserted cemetery?” I repeated incredulously.

He shrugged and looked away. “We’re almost at the entrance. If you follow this path straight ahead, you’ll end up at the front gates. You can already see it from here,” he said, gesturing ahead of him.

“Oh. I see,” I said, a little deflated and disappointed. I realized I’d had a romantic notion that he might walk me home. Apparently not. “So, thanks so much, Tristan. It was nice meeting you.”

I extended my hand to him. He looked at it in silence, his hands shoved inside his pockets. He showed no intention of taking them out. Well. That was sort of rude, especially for someone as seemingly old-fashioned as him. While I retracted my hand with a puzzled look, he seemed seriously conflicted about something, but then he just shook his head sadly, dismissing whatever he was thinking.

“Yes,” he said, finding his voice. “It was nice meeting you too, Joe Gray,” he said ceremoniously, and there was this hint of sadness again in his eyes. “Maybe you can come back here tomorrow? I can show you the tourist parts of the cemetery. Did you know there’s this sculpture of a famous artist in here? People come to take pictures of it all the time!”

I stared at him. He seemed like a decent guy. He dressed a bit too formal, but he was very good looking. As in the out-of-this-world-unbelievably-hot type of good looking. He wouldn’t have problems finding friends. Or girlfriends, for that matter. Well, who I was kidding, he was good looking enough to have his own TV show! Or his own rock band, or whatever. Why on earth would he want to hang out with me, of all people, and in an old cemetery, of all places? There was something seriously strange going on with this boy!

I realized I had been staring at him in silence for a few minutes now, but I honestly didn’t have a clue what to answer. That’s when Miss Violet showed up out of nowhere, almost giving me a heart attack.

“Oh, hello, dear, still here? I thought you were going grocery shopping?” she inquired curiously, and glanced sideways at Tristan.

“Yes, hi, Miss Violet. I got
a little
lost,” I said emphasizing the “little”, which earned me a smile from Tristan. “Tristan here was helping me, showing me the way out.”

She stared at Tristan, who just looked at the ground with his hands behind his back, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

“Was he, now? How nice of him, such a kind soul,” she said, looking intently at him. “I think it’s time for you to go, dear,” she said to me. “Your mom will be worried. And there’s all the shopping to do yet,” she added, grabbing my arm and yanking me away from Tristan, then pulling me to the gates with vigor.

I stumbled outside, rather puzzled by the crazy old lady’s sudden insistence that I be on my way. I glanced back into the cemetery for a second. Tristan was still standing there, watching me go. I smiled awkwardly and waved him goodbye. He waved back with a soft sad smile and slowly walked away, disappearing from sight behind a big mausoleum.

And I didn’t even have the chance to give him my answer.

Chapter Three

Extraordinary!

The next day, I woke up very early, in a very good mood. I was going to track Tristan down at the cemetery after lunch. I hoped he would be there, but since we hadn’t agreed plans to meet, I didn’t know for sure. However, I had nothing else to do, so I thought I should give it a try. After all, the worst that could happen would be having a nice afternoon walk alone in the cemetery. I had enjoyed walking there yesterday – before I got lost – and the weather was still crisp and dry.

I wasn’t fooling myself, though – mostly I wanted to see Tristan again. I couldn’t forget the sad look he had given me before I walked away from the cemetery yesterday. He’d looked so … lonely. What harm could it do to keep him company today? I had really enjoyed talking to him; he was clever, witty and charming, even if he was slightly odd in his manner. The fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous didn’t hurt, either.

I passed the morning unpacking. After a quick lunch with my mom, I put on my best jeans, my favorite orange hoodie, my old Converse shoes, and re-styled my pony-tail really high. I didn’t like wearing my hair down much. It was always in a pony-tail and my mom was always complaining about it. She wanted me to let it hang loose since I had
“such beautiful hair”.