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Dani looks sad, and I can tell she’s reflecting on her own father, who’s been away for years. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”
Dani grabs the kettle and starts boiling some water, placing tea bags in two cups. I’m relieved she’s not following Misty and ignoring me after my outburst. I miss talking to her.
She turns to face me as I slouch on the island. “I hope you can start to enjoy yourself soon, because it looks like you’re tearing yourself apart.” Her eyes drag up my body. “You’ve lost weight.”
I place my hands on my waist and graze my hip bone, and give her a weak smile. I hate fighting with Dani, and I hate lying to her even more.
Waiting for the water to boil, she scoots her butt on the edge of the counter and stares at me. “So tell me about your conversation with Lincoln. Was he really flirting with you?”
I bite my lip and can’t help but let out a small smile. “I don’t know if I’d call it flirting, but he gave me a vibe.”
Her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. “A vibe? What kind of vibe?”
I lean forward, resting my chin on my hands, propping my elbows on the table. “He was kind of sweet. I maybe kind of get what girls see in him. We talked about my father.”
Her eyes are curious. “And you’ve never met him before?”
“My father kept his home and work life separate. I might have met him once, but that was a long time ago, and I was young.”
She stops in her tracks as if putting two and two together. “You don’t think… Is he the freak messaging you?”
My stomach drops. “I don’t know…probably not.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t believe me. “Has he messaged you since you told him to fuck off?”
The kettle whistles behind her as I think about what sweet lie will roll off my tongue next.
“No. I haven’t heard from him since that first week.”
Now, Summer. Tell her everything now. Do it for Cali, do it for all the people he might kill. Tell someone that you think your life is in danger.
Apparently, I have a death wish. Either that, or I’m extremely sexually frustrated because I say nothing.
“Good.” She turns her back to me and pours the hot water into each cup. “You probably scared him off. Tell me if he messages you again, though. Especially with everything going on and the missing girl and that creepy photo. I don’t want you to end up as a statistic or something.”
Emphasis on the or something…
I sigh, rise, and grab my tea. “I promise I’ll tell you. I’m sure it was nothing.”
I head upstairs to my attic bedroom and get ready for a really long night. My eyelids are heavy, and I lean back on my bed and rest my eyes for only a few minutes, ignoring the hot tea but enjoy its spicy aroma.
I snooze for a few minutes, then force myself to get to work. I pull out my textbook, sip on my lukewarm tea, and start working on my make-up assignment for Lincoln.
I read the words, try to understand the concepts, but they just don’t resonate. Not the way they did when Lincoln talked through the theories with me.
He made me understand them so I could comprehend them. I could feel them.
Eventually, I grab my computer, sit at my desk, and type in Lincoln Kennedy and Kinsmen University. All that pops up is his university profile, which I’ve already seen, and he’s like a ghost on his other socials.
So I take a different approach and type in Mikael Peters, but no one by the name Mikael Peters comes up as a student at this school. It’s like Mikael with his odd, spelled name, died along with his mother. Except he didn’t because my father brought him to my house years later.
I clench my jaw and bring up the journal site Lincoln showed me and type in his name. He’s in at least thirty published journals, every one of them co-authored by Dr. Garcia and my father.
Genetic mutations, brain abnormalities, inherited psychological traits, and emotional responses.
Nature, Summer. Nurture has nothing to do with it.
It’s like his only existence is around his research. As if nothing else matters.
