The Lost Boys (3 page)

But I was always on the side of comfort instead of beauty. Comfortable clothes, comfortable hairdo, comfortable shoes. Make-up was always a challenge for me, too. I’ve tried a few times, but I thought I always ended up looking like a hooker. You need to have skills to apply make-up, and I most certainly didn’t have any. So I decided to stick with just my favorite tangerine lip-gloss today. After all, it wasn’t like I was trying to impress a guy I’d just met yesterday. A pony-tail and lip-gloss were more than fine. I yelled to my mom to let her know I was going for a walk, grabbed a warm coat and left the house.

I got to the cemetery in less than ten minutes, much faster than the day before. I didn’t have the gigantic vase of flowers to slow me down this time! I entered the front gates with light steps and walked around for a while. I didn’t remember exactly where I’d met Tristan, since I had been lost at the time. I just remembered it was in the old part of the cemetery, somewhere at the centre.

I walked for about twenty minutes without finding a living soul. It was just me and the dead. After a while I started to recognize a few of the more elaborate decayed tombs and a beheaded angel with one broken wing that I’d seen right before I’d found Tristan sitting on a tomb. That tomb right over there! Hey! I had found it! I looked around for him, but there wasn’t anyone in sight. What was I expecting? That he’d be here all day long waiting for me? Stupid, Joe.

I walked over to his tomb (it was
his
tomb now for me), cleaned off the small mound of snow at the top and grasped the mossy edges, putting my feet on a crevice for support, and pulled myself up. I sat there surveying my surroundings. It was a nice view but the sun wasn’t as warm as yesterday, and a chilly December breeze was biting sharply into my skin. I closed my eyes and inhaled the crisp fresh air happily. It was so peaceful up here. I was beginning to understand why Tristan liked it so much. Perhaps it wasn’t so odd after all. I could stay here the whole day, just chilling.

“You know, you’re in my spot there, Miss Gray,” a voice said from down below. I scrambled up with a start at the sudden noise, almost falling in my haste.

“Jeez, Louise! You almost gave me a heart attack there!” I said, putting a hand over my chest, trying to slow down my pounding heart.

Tristan was leaning against the tomb, hands in his pockets, smirking. “I’m glad you decided to come. I thought Miss Violet would forbid you to see me,” he said with a defiant glint in his eyes.

“Why would she do that?” I asked, stepping down carefully from the tomb.

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” he muttered darkly.

“Oh. So you’re the local bad boy?” I teased. “Does she think you’re a trouble-maker?”

He seemed offended. “No, I’m not! I don’t know why she doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t like seeing me around here. But I’ve every right to be here too!” he said, a bit angrily. “She has no business telling me where I should be!”

“Calm down! I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said, approaching him cautiously.

He eyed me suspiciously and took a small step back, obviously uncomfortable with my sudden proximity. What was that about? He seemed almost … afraid. I stopped and watched him closely. He was wearing what appeared to be the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. Black trousers, white shirt and the same leather jacket. He must be freezing, I thought, as I took in his neat, slicked-back hair. So formal; so serious.

“Miss Violet didn’t say anything to me. And even if she did, she’s not the boss of me! I can do whatever I want,” I said defiantly. “Well, everything that my mom lets me, that is.” I shrugged and smiled weakly at him. He laughed at my lame rebel speech and seemed to relax a little. “So, what about that tour you promised, to see that famous sculpture?”

He beamed at me and made a fancy gesture with his hands, bowing slightly. “Follow me, milady.”

We walked and talked all around the cemetery, back and forth through the shadowy lanes. He asked me a million questions, about my life, my old town, my friends, family and hobbies. I talked and talked endlessly and he listened with a contented smile. Sometimes he interrupted me to ask another question, but mostly he just let me ramble on. From time to time, he would point to a sculpture or a grave with someone supposedly famous in it. He always stopped and stayed quiet for a few minutes, like he was admiring the design – or listening intently to something – and then he would give me a lecture about the person buried there. It was so weird and funny at the same time! I tried to ask him questions too, but he kept deflecting the conversation back to me in such a natural way that it was a while before I noticed he was uncomfortable talking about himself.

A couple of times we passed this really old man, who looked like the caretaker of the place. He was clearing the smaller pathways and kept giving me odd glances whenever we passed him. I pointed it out to Tristan the second time we passed him by. “Hey, that old dude keeps giving me some weird looks. What’s up with him?” I asked, annoyed. He was looking at me like I was a crazy person or something.

Tristan looked at the man, holding in a laugh. “Old Johnson, you say? He’s harmless, don’t worry about it, Joey. He probably thinks it’s odd for a kid to wander around the cemetery alone, that’s all.”

“I’m not alone. You’re with me,” I pointed out.

“Yes, of course,” Tristan said quickly, with an amused smirk. “I meant alone as in without adult supervision,” he corrected himself.

“Oh, okay,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed now. The old man was probably thinking we were a couple of Goth kids, drinking and getting up to no good. That would explain the strange looks he kept giving us.

We carried on walking and I continued talking for a while, but then I glanced at my cell phone. It was past five o’clock. I was beginning to feel hungry.

“Hey, Tristan, how about we go grab a bite to eat? There’s a coffee shop on the corner,” I began, but he pulled a face that made me stop.

He stopped walking and shuffled his feet, a troubled expression on his face. “I … I’m sorry, Joe. I can’t go,” he said sadly.

I waited for him to elaborate and when he didn’t I mumbled, “Oh, another time, maybe?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to but it’s … uh, complicated. But we can hang some more here, if you want to,” he said, peeking at me hesitantly through long dark eyelashes.

I watched him, intrigued. His eyes were telling me he was trying to hide something, and that he was sorry about having to hide it. He looked trapped and guilty, but honest at the same time. “Okay. I guess we can hang out here a little more,” I finally agreed. “But I’m tired, let’s take a break from walking.”

I sat on a stone bench nearby, below a tall tree. He sat by my side, a little way away. He really didn’t want to get close to me at all, I was beginning to realize. He must have some kind of problem. I had read about this. People with germ phobia, wasn’t it? Scared of touching anything, of getting contaminated. He must have freaked out big time yesterday at the sight of me all covered in dirt! That would’ve traumatized any germophobic for the rest of their life!

“So, Tristan, you haven’t said much about yourself. I feel like I’ve been babbling about myself like a maniac, here!” I exclaimed, stretching my legs.

“There’s not much to talk about, really,” he said, looking at the view in front of him. “I haven’t done anything interesting in ages. My life’s pretty boring You have all these amazing things going on in yours.”

“Really?” I asked, astonished. I wasn’t aware my life was that cool or amazing.

“Yes, really,” he said, laughing. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been lots of places, you play lots of instruments, you can do martial arts, you even worked briefly in a circus, for God’s sake!”

“It was just a summer gig!” I said, laughing back at him, astonished at how much he had been paying attention when I’d told him about my life. “And I just helped set up the acts; it wasn’t a big deal. My mom and I have this rule, you know: to be open to new things in life, good or bad. She’s taught me that we have to always be ready to walk new paths, experience new things. She’s always arranging some weird, different stuff for me to do. Now she has this new fancy job that she’s really excited about. And here I am. New town. New life,” I said, closing my eyes and enjoying the weak sunlight bathing my face. The wind was really sharp and cold now, reminding me that this was indeed the end of the year. I shivered and pulled my coat closer to my body.

“Aren’t you cold, Tristan?” I asked, gesturing at his leather jacket.

“I don’t feel the cold much,” he replied simply. “You know, you are extraordinary,” he said in a low voice, and his tone carried a deep longing and something else I couldn’t quite discern.

I turned to look at him curiously. His eyes were fixed on me, sparkling silver in the fading sunlight, and filled with so much admiration and awe. I blushed fiercely as he looked away from me; clearly he was embarrassed that I had caught him staring.

“Well, um … it’s getting late,” I said, flustered. Then my cell phone rang with my mom’s ringtone, the theme song from the TV show
Law and Order
, making us both jump. I fumbled in my jeans pocket and took the call. “Hey, Mom,” I answered, noticing Tristan staring at me strangely, as if my phone were a two-headed monster. “Yeah, everything is fine. I know, I know, it’s getting late. I was just coming home. Yeah, I am! I’m turning the corner of the block right this second. I should be home in, like, ten minutes! Okay? Bye!” I hung up quickly and stood up, patting my clothes awkwardly. “Sorry, Tris. I have to go. Last curfew.” I shrugged apologetically and smiled at him.

He looked surprised when he heard me calling him “Tris”. It had just come out of my mouth without a second thought. I smiled extra awkwardly then. He stood up and stuffed his hands back in his pockets with an amused expression. I guess he wasn’t expecting a nickname from me so soon.

“Yeah. Okay. So … I guess I’ll see you around, Miss … I mean, Joey,” he said, nodding, “If you have some free time during the week and want to pass by, I’m usually around here.”

“Okay. So, see you around,” I replied, and before I could extend my hand for a goodbye shake, he turned fast and walked away. Oh my God! He was so weird! Then I remembered his germ phobia problem. Right. It had slipped my mind. No handshakes with him, Joey!

When I got home, my mom was in the kitchen, making dinner.

“Hey, Mom. This smells really good!” I said, rubbing my tummy. I was really hungry.

“Hey, munchkin, you’re back!” she greeted me. “Dinner will be done in a minute. What have you been doing all afternoon?”

“I was just hanging with a friend,” I told her casually.

“A new friend already?” she said, beaming happily. “That was fast! Is it a boyfriend, or a girlfriend?”

“It’s a boy, but not a boyfriend. Just a boy who happens to be a friend,” I corrected her. I knew how my mother’s mind worked. I wasn’t falling into that trap!

“Hey, who knows what the future holds! He might become more than just a friend, eh?”

Oh, good God! Here we go again. My mom was always trying to hook me up. Most moms tried their best to lock their daughters away from boys, up in high towers with guards and dragons at the front doors, but not my mom. I think she was trying to re-live her dating times through me … and since I rarely dated at all, she was at a loss. She’d been ecstatic when I’d brought my first – and only – boyfriend over for a dinner, back in our old town. I only recalled that it had been one hell of an embarrassing evening.

“Is he the ‘pretty kind’ of boy that happens to be just a friend?” she asked teasingly while fumbling with the stove.

I thought about Tristan and his bright gray eyes, his eerily pale face, his big chest, athletic body and broad shoulders. And that smile … my cheeks instantly turned red all over. Mom observed my reaction from the other side of the counter with amusement.

“That good looking, huh?” She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

I coughed and gave her a glare. “Let’s just say he’s easy on the eye. But we’re
just
friends, Mom. So quit it!” I warned her.

“All right! All right! I give up. If you want to sulk and be alone for the rest of your days, it’s your choice. No boy is ever good enough for you!” She scowled.

I grunted under my breath and she shook her head, giving up on the topic.

“So, Joey, I just received a welcome folder from Principal Smith at Sagan Boarding School!” she said, her face lighting up at the thought.

“Sagan?” I asked, at a loss.

“Yes! Your new school! Remember we talked about it as an option? You going to study there the rest of the year? It’s a boarding school, actually, but it’s not too far away. Only a couple of hours’ drive. You’ll get to sleep in dorm rooms with friends, just like in Hogwarts in
Harry Potter
!” she exclaimed, all excited now.

I rolled my eyes. “Mom, my Harry Potter phase is so over.”
Was not. I still love you, Harry!
“I told you I wanted to study at a boarding school like that two years ago! That was a lifetime ago!”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “A lifetime! Don’t be silly. Anyway, now that I have this important new job, thank you very much,” she said, bowing, “I managed to get you in! It’s the best school in the state, and now I can afford to send you there!”

“But … what about you? You’ll be here all alone!” I cried out.

“Oh, I can handle being alone, Joey. I’m a big girl. You know I want the best for you, and this is the best. And it’s not like you won’t be able to visit every weekend,” she remarked cheekily.

In truth, I was really excited by Sagan; the brochure was amazing. Mom and I talked about it over dinner and I went to bed happy. And then I thought about Tristan. Maybe tomorrow I could stop by the cemetery and tell him about my new school. It was exciting news! And I still really wanted to experience life at a boarding school. Although I felt a little sad because I wouldn’t be able to see him any more after school started. That kind of sucked.

Before I drifted into sleep that night, I thought about how odd it was being sad at the idea of not seeing someone I’d just met two days ago, someone I barely knew. Tristan had made such a big impact on my life already.