Music is the only thing that can calm me down. Well, that and the crazy black light nightlight Lyric bought me for my birthday a couple of weeks ago. She thought she was being funny when she gave it to me, but I was oddly touched that she remembered my stupid confession about being afraid of the dark.
Fortunately, I never told her why I was afraid. Then again, I don’t even know the whole reason since I blocked out most of the darker stuff that happened to me. No matter how hard my therapist tries to unravel my mind, they still refuse to surface.
After turning on the black light, everything white in my room glowing neon, I put in my earbuds then toss and turn for half the night until I fall asleep around two in the morning.
Hours later, I’m woken up out of a nightmare by the soft sound of breathing. And not mine. Someone is lying next to me in bed, and for a moment, I have a panic attack, thinking that somehow I’ve traveled back in time when I was never alone. Then I catch the faintest scent of strawberries and relax. The person lying next to me is the same person who’s been climbing into my bed almost every morning since I moved here.
“Are you awake yet?” Lyric asks, ruffling my hair with her fingers. “I’m getting bored watching you sleep.”
“Then stop watching me,” I murmur with my eyes shut. “It’s creepy.”
“Hate to burst your bubble, but you’re equally as creepy as I am.”
“Guess we’re perfect for each other, then.”
“Of course we are.” She flicks me in the forehead, startling me awake. My eyelids lift open, my gaze meeting her bright green eyes. They’re intense to look at, even now after I’ve known her for a while. I can never seem to stop staring at them. They’re beautiful. And it’s heartbreaking to feel what my staring at them means. That I like her. A lot. More than I’ve liked anyone in a long, long time.
“You’re doing that creepy staring thing again,” she informs me as she sits up in my bed and starts raveling a strand of her hair around her finger. She’s dressed in maroon shorts and a dark grey shirt, clearly ready to go somewhere, and knowing our routine, I’m going with her. “You know, it’s cool with me. I get it. I’m too dazzling not to stare at.” She smiles and my heart misses a beat. Her smile is so perfect and easy. Most days, I envy it. “But you might want to lay off on the staring a little bit in school, at least around Tina Marlelytone.”
“I’ve never stared at Tina Marlelytone.” I sit up in bed and stretch my arms over my head.
“I figured, but she thinks you do. So, you might want to”—she points at my eyes—“keep those sad little puppy dog eyes off her.”
My hands drop to my lap as I stare blankly at her. “I wish you’d stop saying that about my eyes.”
“I’ll stop saying that when it stops being the truth.” She jumps off the bed and jerks the blanket off me. “Now get up and get dressed. I have big plans for you today.”
“You might want to think before you jerk off the blankets like that,” I say to her as I drag my butt out of bed. “One day, I might start sleeping naked.”
“I think that’d be more embarrassing for you than it would for me,” she retorts, backing toward the door. “You blush when someone sees you with your shirt off.”
“That happened one time,” I call out, but she ignores me, flashing me a sly grin before closing the door.
Shaking my head, I trudge for the dresser to get some clothes. Nothing fazes that girl. It’s the most terrifying and fascinating thing to observe. And I’ve observed her, a lot. Everywhere she goes, she finds a crowd and blends in with them, like a freaking chameleon. Me, I’m like a skittish rodent who never feels at ease, always silent and uncomfortable, making everyone around me silent and uncomfortable. Except, of course, Lyric.
I’m extremely lucky to have met her that first day with the Gregorys. I’m not sure I would have survived without her. No one knows how hard that first day with the Gregorys was, and all the ones before that. I pondered suicide, touched many blades to my wrists, tasted the staleness of pills. Then Lyric sprung into my life with her sunshine attitude and smile, and suddenly my days don’t seem so dark. I decided the day she beat the crap out of the guy to defend me that I was going to dump the pills and try to give a go at life, the best that I could.
And I’ve been working on it ever since.
As I’m searching for a shirt, my fingers skate across one of the three objects hidden in the back of the drawer. The stuff I brought here with me. I still haven’t been able to get rid of them. I still think about my brother and sister every day, and wonder where they are.
“Are you still naked!” Lyric laughs as she bangs on the door, interrupting my thoughts.
“Just a second.” I slam the drawer shut then tug on a grey T-shirt and a pair of holey black jeans. Then I grab my boots from the closet and throw open the door. “You are the most impatient person ever.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever, shy boy. I’m super patient.” She seizes my hand and leads me down the hall toward the stairway. “So, it’s going to be a little bit tricky to get out of the house, since the usual tradition for the month marker is to spend the day talking and eating cake and ice cream, but I have an idea to get around it.”
Sunlight is flowing in through the massive windows of the kitchen, and I detect the scent of freshly baked cake in the air. The smell is starting to become more and more familiar with each day I spend here, just like everything else. While I embrace it, I also fear that it will all be taken away from me.
“Maybe we should just stay here, especially if Mrs. Gregory has baked.” It’s not just that though. I always feel guilty whenever I’m about to do something even remotely wrong. The Gregorys were kind enough to put a roof over my head, and I constantly feel in debt to them.
Lyric shoots me an inquiring look over her shoulder. “Why do you keep insisting on calling them Mr. and Mrs. Gregory? It’s weird.”
“I have my reasons,” I mutter as I sit down on a stool to put on my boots.
Lyric watches me lace my boots. I know she wants to ask what my reasons are, but she doesn’t. That’s the thing with Lyric. As crazy and blunt as she is, she’ll never press me too hard for information. I’m grateful that she doesn’t, because if she did discover certain details about me, she probably wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore. And I need her as a friend, more than anything.