No, not my neighbor.
Wait.
My heart lurches.
Number 39?
What the fuck is he doing at my house?
I grab Zinnia’s hand and whisper, “It’s okay.”
“You know him?” she asks.
I press a finger to my mouth.
Dad’s kicking the door now. Heavy thuds that rattle the whole room behind us.
We walk towards the hockey player cautiously. He’s no longer in his jersey, but his lip is still swollen, his face bruised.
He’s like an angel in disguise. I didn’t know what I’d do once I got out of the bedroom. I don’t have a phone anymore. We don’t have shoes. Right now, number 39 is a God send.
I look up at him, unable to register his face features. It’s too unfamiliar. I have no idea who he is or why he’s helping me.
He points left and walks.
We follow him.
Zinnia starts whimpering once we cut the corner. We’re stepping on rocks and sticks along the fence line. I squeeze her hand, trying to keep her quiet.
Number 39 looks down at Zinnia’s feet. Then he crouches and picks her up on his back.
She looks at me, terrified.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what’s happening, but we need to move fast. She gets on his back. When his eyes meet mine, I try my hardest to thank him in a nod. But his eyes travel down to my feet and notice I’m barefoot too. He kicks off his shoes and offers them to me without a word. Then he walks, so I have no choice but to put them on.
As they slide on my feet, the warmth contrasts with my frozen toes. And the simple act of this tiny gesture makes me feel warm. I catch up to him, his shoes awfully big on my feet.
We sneak past my neighbor’s house. Then the next one. Not every yard has a fence, so we move fast through the gaps.
Once we’re past the last house, he sets her down and opens a car door.
Another guy’s in the driver’s seat, looking at me. Another face I don’t know.
I hesitate.
“Get in.” His voice is deep. Steady. It sends a zing through my body.
This isn’t a fever dream.
He’s actually here. I look down at his socks, then my feet. And I’m really wearing his shoes.
“Did you follow me home?” I whisper.
“Lily! Zinni!” Dad’s voice cuts through the night.
Shit.He’s in the backyard.
I push Zinnia into the car and climb in after her. Number 39 shuts the door and gets in the passenger seat.
