Home is Where You Are (19 page)

“Password
’s perfect and what’s your email address?”

I cringe because it’
s embarrassing.

I write it on a piece of paper and slide it over to him. He picks the paper up and raises his eyebrow.
“Ballerina25.” He laughs.

“Shut up
. It’s the first email address I had. It’s not like I use it anymore. So you go on this computer under your profile, and I’ll go on this one under mine.” We switch seats, and I pull up my account.

“Nice picture,” Dean says. I didn’t realize he was looking.
My favorite picture with Katie.

“It was taken this summer. O
ne of the rare times I went to a party.”

“You look good with a tan.”

“Thanks.” Heat shoots into my cheeks, and I divert my attention to the screen. “We spent the whole day on the beach and then we went to the party. It was the most fun I’ve ever had.” It was one of those summer memories you hear people talk about and wished you were a part of. And for once in my life I was. “Anyway, you see where it says search?” I lean over Dean and point to the screen. “Type Josie in the box and let’s see what happens.”

I figured him for a two finger
typer, but instead his fingers splay out on the keyboard in the proper position and he types like a pro.

“Zero results for Josie
Lando,” he says.

“That doesn’t mean anything. She might’ve been adopted and took their name. We just have to work with Josie.”

He types her name into the search bar. “7,886? Are you kidding me?”

“I didn’t say it would be easy
, and in the end we might wind up back at square one, but you never know. I’ll take the last page and work my way to the top and you take the first page and work your way through. We’ll see what happens.”

He nods
, and we start clicking our way through the list. I couldn’t imagine not knowing where my brother is and if he’s okay. Even though he kind of abandoned me, he’s still my big brother. I don’t know how Dean can be so strong. He talks about his sister, and while at times I’ve thought I’ve seen his eyes gloss up, he’s never shed a single tear. He has a sister whom he hasn’t seen in seven years, and who might not even remember him. He will never be complete or fully capable of moving forward without her.

I glance over at him. Determination is evident in the way he squints his eyes.
Strength with every page he clicks through. That unruly black curl falls onto his forehead and I resist the urge to push it back into place.

He peers over at me and smiles, melting my insides along with any doubt that I have
n’t fallen completely in love with him. 

An hour into the search
, I’m twenty-five pages in with only one or two leads that turned out to be duds. Dean’s thirty pages in with no luck.

“What if she doesn’t even go by Josie anymore?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know. But what other options do we have?”

“I think I’ve had enough for one day,” Dean says
, and clicks out of his page. I’m about to say something when the expression on his face changes from hopeless to heartbroken. The glassiness I’ve seen cover his eyes before has made its return, but this time it looks like it may shatter.

“
What’s the matter?” I ask, pushing my chair closer to him. His eyes are fixated on the screen. I look at his screen. He’s on the local news page.
“Body Found in Woods Identified.”
My eyes drift to the fine print.

The body found two days ago in the woods behind the local YMCA has been identified as Wanda Suarez. According to her parents, Miguel and Francis Suarez, Wanda was a runaway and had been living on the streets for the past year. Due to the brutal cause of her death she was only able to be recognized by
a butterfly tattoo on her neck.

The poor girl, I can’t read anymore. My eyes fall away from the screen and back on Dean. He’s
just staring. His chest rises and falls beneath his hoodie and his breathing deepens.

“You knew her?”

He nods, a tear falling down his cheek. Before I can comfort him, he stands. His knuckles whiten on the back of the chair. The chair slams into the desk. Noise echoes throughout the library. Dean screams, “Damn it” and storms towards the door.

A few heads turn, but once he disappears from their vi
ew, they turn back to what they’re doing. I grab my bag and run after him.

“Dean!” I yell when I get outside
. My eyes scan back and forth looking for the brown haired boy I’ve fallen in love with.

But he’s gone.

Why? Why? Why?

What did she fucking do to deserve that? I want to punch something, divert the pain ripping through my heart. My lip trembles and anger overpowers any and all emotion.

Damn it!
Why wasn’t I there for her? Did this happen the night she didn’t get into the Y and I did? I pace back and forth, unsure of what else to do.

“Dean?”

Anna. I don’t want her to see me like this. Not when I’m filled with such hatred and regret. She doesn’t need to be part of this.

My feet move away from her, but when her hand rests on my shoulder I freeze.
A calm trickles its way through my body and my fists unclench. I have to be strong. I have to show Anna I’m okay. Slowly, I turn around. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t so much as try to utter a single sorry, she just throws her arms around my neck and pulls me into her.

The smell of cherry blossoms and the feel of her hair against my cheek comfort me in a way I didn’t think possible. It reminds me of what Wanda said, it’s nice to know someone cares
, and Anna does really care about me. I don’t know what I did to deserve her.

I should let her go. Let her go back to her life and unburden her with my problems, but I
need her right now. Selfishly, I pull her closer and bury my head into the crook of her neck, allowing her scent to calm me.

Her hand runs through my hair then caresses my cheek. She pulls away, gorgeous
hazel eyes looking back at me. “You want to get some pizza?”

My heart swells at her invitation. There might be things she doesn’t know about me, but she knows enough to not lecture me on los
s and life’s misfortunes.

I
shift away from her, but don’t let go. “You have to get over to the soup kitchen. It’s almost four.”

“Barney won’t mind. You seem like you might need some company.” Just when I didn’t think I’d ever smile again
, the corner of my lip tugs.

“I do, but you have an obligation. So I’ll walk you there
, and if Barney lets me, I’ll help.”

“
That sounds good.” She rises on her toes and presses her lips to mine, soft and gentle. Perfect. Just what I need.

I wrap my arm
around her shoulder and head towards the soup kitchen. The line has already formed and is beginning to wrap around the church. I recognize most of the faces. They aren’t young like at the Y, but they all have that same lack of hope in their eyes.

Anna takes my hand
, and guides me to the front and down the stairs. A few of the regulars stare me down as I pass. If I was them, I’d do the same thing.

“Stay right here,” Anna says
, and I watch her walk to Barney, who’s setting up the food on the long table. Next to Barney is a girl with brownish red hair who I can only assume is Susie. By the way she’s waving to Anna like she’s some kind of celebrity, I can guarantee I’m right.

Barney looks over his shoulder at Stan
, who nods. After a few seconds Anna waves me over. Barney pats me on the back and says, “You can take Anna’s job of handing out the plates. Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks
, Barney. I appreciate it.” He nods and walks over to the door.

I take my spot beside Anna. It seems so weird. Just the other day I was on the receiving end and now I’m the one handing over a hot meal.

Barney opens the door and the people stream in. At first I’m nervous, afraid they’re going to look right through me and curse the ground I walk on. What gives me the right to be on this side of the table as if I’m not on the same playing field anymore?

Nobody acknowledges me,
too focused on getting food on their plate. However, a few smile at Anna and make small-talk before moving down the line. She keeps a smile on her face and has the assembly line down to a science. First she offers bread, then moves on to the vegetables always giving a little extra to each person.

I wonder if Wanda had a hot meal before she died.

Anna’s eyes catch mine, and when her smile is directed at me, I feel a sense of relief. It’s as if as long as she’s in my life, everything is going to be okay. God I hope so.

“Hey
, buddy. Need a plate.” I look away from Anna and to a man who I’m sure has seen better days. His build has him standing at least seven inches taller than me, his dirty brown hair is long and uncombed and something about him that creeps me out.

“Sorry about
that. Here you go.” I hand him the plate, and he moves on mumbling. He approaches Anna next and she sticks to her routine. But I don’t like the way he looks at her. My eyes don’t leave him until he’s seated across the room.

I’m probably being paranoid
, but there’s something about him, the evil look in his eyes, that makes me feel he wouldn’t think twice about stabbing a knife in your back to get what he needs.

Once he finishes scarfing down his food
, he’s out the door, and the tension in my neck finally loosens.

When the line thins out and the last person is served
, Anna approaches me with the girl. “Dean, I’d like you to meet Susie.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Hi Dean,” she says with enough gusto she could knock a person over. “It’s nice meeting you too.” She sticks her hands in her jeans pocket and turns before scurrying away.

“You we
re right, Preppy,” I whisper in Anna’s ear.

“About what?”

“She is odd.”

Anna laughs her adorable laugh. “Yeah she is, but I think she thinks you’re cute. That’s why she was so nervous.”

“I usually have
that effect on girls.”

“You are so sure of yourself
, aren’t you?”

“I got your attention
.” I grab her waist and tug her into me.

“I guess you did. Come on let’s get out of here.” We say our goodbyes to Barney and head out the door back to Anna’s car.  

With winter closing in on us the temperature is dropping. I pull my hood on and take out the gloves Anna got for me. When she smiles, I can tell how happy she is I’m actually using them.

Anna comes to a stop
, and I look up at her. She’s looking at the concrete wall covered in gum.

“I never understood this,” I say
, taking in the blobs of different colors scattered across the two-by-two area.

“Me neither, but at the same time it fascinates me.”

“Chewed gum fascinates you?”

“It’s more than
that. It’s the time people take placing their gum here, making different shapes and designs. I stare at it and wonder whose gum this was.” She points to a pink piece. “Or whose this was.” She points to a blue piece. “Were these people alone when they placed it and wanted to leave their mark, or were they with friends and just wanted to do it because everyone else was?”

“All of this from gum?”

“Yup.”

“
Have you ever contributed to the wall? I don’t take you as the type that would go near chewed gum, but then again you tend to surprise me.”

“I do?”
her voice is soft, and I can’t help but to brush a nonexistent hair off her cheek just so I can touch her.

“You do.”

“I did once when I was five. My dad and I were walking up to Main Street, and he stopped to show me. He was more excited than I was, but that’s how my dad was, he found joy in everything. He insisted I leave my mark because one day, when I became famous, I could tell people I put gum on the wall. And people from all over would come to see the wall that Anna Hayward put her gum on. He picked me up and put me on his shoulders so I could reach a spot that was clean.” She smiles at the memory, her eyes looking off into the distance. “Anyway, that was the one and only time I put gum on the wall.”

“Is your piece still here?”

“It could be. I don’t even remember what type of gum I was chewing. I don’t remember the flavor or the color, just the part about my dad.”

“Because
that’s the most important part.”

“Yeah
, it is.” She’s silent for a few seconds. I kiss her on her forehead and then she looks into my eyes. “I’ve been quiet long enough. You want to tell me about what happened earlier? I don’t want to pry, but I want you to know that you can talk to me.”

I know I can. The problem is I don’t want her to know
any more of the dangers in my world. I don’t need her worrying about me when she has tests to study for, homework to focus on and colleges to get into.

Her hand rests on my cheek, stroking small circles with her thumb.
“Dean, please talk to me.”

W
ith the concern in her eyes, I can’t say no. “I did know her.”

“Was she a girlfriend?” If I’m not mistaken
, there’s jealousy in her words.

“No just a friend. Her name was Wanda
, and she was living on the streets because her parents kicked her out.”

“Why would they do
that?”

“
She was gay, and it was against their religion. They thought they could change her by putting her into counseling. Which pissed her off, and she ran away. I haven’t met many people in my situation that genuinely cares about others, but she did. She was one of the good ones…which is probably what got her killed.” 

Anna’s hand goes to her mouth.
“That’s terrible.”

“This might not mean anything
, but thanks for not saying sorry.”

“Trust me, I understand
.”

Maybe I didn’t give Anna enough credit because looking into her eyes I can see she completely understands.

“When my dad died,” she says, “people offered me apologies constantly, and it only made the anger worse. Because really, what did they have to be sorry for? They didn’t make the decision to pull that car over. And they weren’t the one to pull the trigger.”

“Exactly.
I don’t need any words.” I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “Holding your hand, being here with you, is all I need.” I smooth her bangs out of her face. “Come on, I’ll treat you to that slice of pizza.”

“Only because I am too emotionally drained to argue, sure.”

***

I walk Anna to her car after we eat. The night is a sheet of darkness, no stars visible. Though, right now it doesn’t matter. I’m not looking at the sky.

“Get home safe,” I say as I
hook my arm around her waist and pull her in for a kiss.

“You sure I can’t give you a ride to the Y?”

“I’ll be fine, besides I told you I like to walk, and I kind of need to clear my head.”

“It’s just getting so cold
, and I worry.”

T
he apprehension in her eyes makes me feel guilty for not having a safe place to go to because I don’t want her for a second to think I’m not safe. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve been on my own for the past two years, and I’ve been fine.”

“I know. It’s just…” Sadness engulfs her beautiful face.

“What is it?” I press my lips to her forehead and hold her close. She sniffles into my coat and I pull back, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. “Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
“I’m sure you noticed at the soup kitchen, not so much anymore, but in the beginning, I tended to be sort of a robot.”

I nod.

“I wasn’t always like that. When I started, I thought I could save everyone. I befriended every person who walked through the door. There was this one woman, Michelle, she was older, an ex-prostitute. But she was so sweet. I’d sit with her all the time, and she’d tell me stories about when she was younger, listen to my problems, and offer me advice. Then one day she stopped showing up. Two weeks later they found her body in an abandoned building.” Her words falter. She looks up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She froze to death.”

It all makes sense now.
I wrap her in my arms, wishing I could take her pain away.

“Look at me,” I say, placing my hand under her chin and guiding her eyes to mine. “
That won’t happen to me.”