“How long did you go?”
“Two weeks. By the third session, I refused to talk. Never went back. Trystan lasted three months but he’s more of a talker than me.”
“I’ve noticed that,” I say.
Braden stands up, dripping water everywhere. “You staying out here?”
“Maybe a few more minutes.”
“Going for another walk?”
I laugh. “Probably not.”
He goes inside the house. I get out my phone and check the time. It’s after eleven, which is after two in New York. Axl’s probably still out with Senna.
I text him.
How’s the concert?
He doesn’t text back. I wait a few minutes. Still nothing.
Dammit. I really need to hear from him. Being this far away, knowing he’s out with Senna, is making me imagine all kinds of scenarios that probably aren’t true.
After a quick search for Senna’s number, I call her.
“Hey, it’s Senna!” she yells over the loud music in the background.
“Senna, it’s Rumor. Can you talk?”
“Hold on. Let me go outside. Axl, I’m gonna go talk to your girlfriend.”
“Rumor’s on the phone?” I hear him say, though it’s muffled by the music. “Rumor?” I hear his voice clearly now. He must’ve taken Senna’s phone and gone outside.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Why are you calling Senna?”
“You wouldn’t answer your phone.”
“Is something wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just . . . I miss home. I missyou.”
“I miss you too, babe. I wish you were here.”
“I hate it here so much, Axl. I want to come home. Is there any way your mom would let me live there?”
“Babe, you know she can’t. There’s barely enough room for her and me.”
“Maybe I should just do the foster care thing. It’ll suck but at least we’ll be together.”
“I’m not letting you do that. You know the stories we’ve heard.”
He means the stories on the news and the ones we’ve heard at school of kids being abused in foster homes. Some of them were too horrible to even think about.
“That doesn’t mean it’ll be that way for me,” I say. “Maybe I’ll get a good family.”
“And if you don’t, you’ll be stuck there for a year. I’m not risking it.”
