RAVEN
Sitting in the library parking lot with my car facing the elementary school, I wait to hear the bell ring, indicating the end of the school day. Instead, my phone vibrates in the cupholder.
Dahlia: How did job hunting go?
Me: I got hired at a bar.
Dahlia: Did you flash your tits or something?
I can’t help but laugh at her crude humor. Dahlia has always been the one ready with a joke to lighten the mood, and we needed all the lightheartedness we could get at that time.
Me: No. He thought I was cute. Are you still able to answer the phone if someone calls?
Dahlia: Duh. I got your back, babe.
Me: Thanks. Be safe. Love you!
Dahlia: You too.
My rear passenger door pops open, and I jump, dropping my phone on the floor. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I find Noah buckling his seat belt. I didn’t even hear the school bell. Leaning down to retrieve my phone, I try not to sound like I’m out of breath.
“How was school?”
“Did you get a job today?” Noah is purposely ignoring my question.
“What happened? You were excited to go to school this morning. You practically shoved me out the door.”
Noah stares out his window. “Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” he mumbles.
“What do you mean?”
He sighs. “Nothing. Can we just go home?”
I know he’s purposely avoiding my question. He usually answers in his own time, but I can’t help but worry.
“Okay. Sure. But we have to stop at the store first.” Shifting the car into drive, I turn onto Main Street. The grocery store isn’t that far from the library.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Noah accuses innocently. He used to be quieter and more reserved, but ever since we left New York, he’s more talkative. His filter is basically gone. It has put me in some awkward situations, but it’s good to see him opening up.
“And you didn’t answer mine,” I rib back, hoping to get at least a hint of a smile. When he doesn’t return the joke, I answer, “Yes, I got a job. I actually got two. One at the library and one at a place called The Wandering Raven.”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes are absently staring out the window.
When I pull into a spot in the grocery store parking lot, I unbuckle and reach for Noah, placing my hand on his knee. “Talk to me, little king. What happened?”
He doesn’t acknowledge my plea and keeps his focus fixed on the tinted glass.
“Noah. Look at me, please.” He concedes, and I’m gifted with the view of his ebony irises. “I’m here. I’m always going to be here. I wasn’t before, and I know you understand why.” The ache in my chest threatens to drag me under as my eyes look over the healed cut on his face. “But I’m not going anywhere anymore. All those men are dead or in prison. And I will spend every day for the rest of my life making up for all the times I couldn’t be there before.”
Tears line his lower lashes, but he doesn’t let them spill over. Noah swallows a few times before he finally lets the truth free. “A boy in my class got everyone to call me Freddy Kruger.”
Fucking cruel kids.
I hold my body perfectly still as I keep my ire in check. “Did you talk to your teacher about it?”
He shakes his head.
“Why not?”
