The Wayward Sons: (Book 3) Starlee's Home

by Angel Lawson

  We’re at the juncture at the hall—the one where we split into different directions to go to our first class. It’s harder than usual to say goodbye but before I get too far, I hear, “Mr. Falco, Mr. Hollingsworth, you’re needed in the office.”

  The person speaking is Mrs. Cline from the guidance office. The two boys share a look and the line on Jake’s forehead deepens.

  “What for?” he asks.

  “Not my business, Mr. Hollingsworth, but you need to go there before class.”

  “Probably just our schedules,” Dex says.

  “Go,” I say. “I’ll talk to you at lunch.”

  The guys follow Mrs. Cline down the hall and I head the opposite way, thinking that even though it stinks that we can’t see each other at home, at least they can’t force us apart at school.

  4

  Dexter

  I don’t think much about being called into the office until I see George and Charlie sitting on the uncomfortable chairs. They both look up as we walk in, eyebrows raising identically. My first reaction is relief. I’m just happy to see them in one piece—the way they were taken from the house the week before was unfortunate. So much yelling, and Sierra made it clear I wasn’t to get involved.

  “Hey,” I say, knocking fists and then taking the seat across from them. Jake does the same, squeezing in the chair too small for his broad frame. His legs take up half the floor space. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Mrs. Cline stopped us when we got off the bus.”

  I share a look with Jake. “Yeah,” I say. “us too.”

  “How’s it been going?” Jake asks.

  George shrugs and Charlie glares at the floor.

  “It’s fine,” George finally says. “Small. Our dad is being okay, I guess. I’m still not sure why he even wants us there.”

  “Because he’s a control freak,” Charlie quietly. “I think he doesn’t like the idea of us doing well without him.”

  “Really?” I ask. I don’t know much about Mr. Evans, other than he’s a prick who has a temper worse than my own.

  “Yeah, I do. I think that once he heard George was playing football and staying out of trouble and that I had some options for getting into college that didn’t depend on him, he wanted back in our lives. When we were a hot mess, he didn’t care.”

  Charlie’s bitterness is palpable but George leans forward and asks, “How’s Sierra?”

  “Upset,” I say. “She feels awful about everything.”

  “It’s not her fault,” George says. “She’s an awesome foster mom.”

  Charlie looks at Jake. “Do you think Christina did this?”

  “I think it’s likely.”

  “How’s Starlee?” George asks.

  “Coping. She’s taking the blame as much as Sierra,” I explain. “But I’ve only seen her once and out in the hall just now. Things are tense back home.”

  Charlie’s frown deepens. “This whole thing is wrong, you know that? Totally wrong.”

  “Boys.” Mrs. Baxter, the guidance counselor, comes out of her office. She has a stack of papers in her hands. “I’ve heard about the shake-up at home and talked to your social workers and Ms. Falco. There’s been a request from everyone involved to shift your schedules so that you’re no longer in the same class as Starlee Jones.”

  “You’re kidding?” I jump out of my seat. Mrs. Baxter gives me a hard look and I step back. “Starlee hasn’t done anything.”

  “You’re seriously going to disrupt our schedules over this?” Charlie asks. “Because someone wants to pretend Starlee is a problem. She’s not an issue.”

  Mrs. Baxter sighs. “Look, guys, I agree with you completely. Ms. Jones hasn’t been a problem in any way since she’s arrived, but my hands are tied. I’m doing what I’ve been told by the State. You and I both know it’s best not to make waves.”

  She’s right, of course, but it sucks because it’s just another blow—another circumstance that proves we have no control over our lives. We’ve got to just deal with it until graduation, then no one can tell us what to do anymore.

  “Are those our new schedules?” I ask, pointing to the papers.

  “Yes.” She holds them out.

  I grab the one with my name on it and the others reluctantly do the same. Causing problems at school will only make things worse.

  “Thank you for cooperating,” she says as we exit the office. The first bell rang ten minutes ago. We’ll be late for class but that’s not the worst part of the day.

  The worst part is going to be telling Starlee. She’s not going to take this well, and I feel for whoever sees her first.

  5

  Starlee

  First and second period are a complete waste of time. I’m too focused on getting to Art and seeing if George made it to school. When I get to the basement room, relief floods me; there’s no mistaking his tall, lanky frame standing in front of Ms. Peterman’s desk. His portfolio leans against his legs.

  As excited as I am, I’m hesitant to approach him. What if, despite what Dexter and Jake say, he’s still upset? I wait in the doorway as my classmates push past me, waiting for him to finish talking to the teacher. She points down to a form and he glances over, seeing me. His eyes flick over me but he makes no other moves, just focusing back on Ms. Peterman.

  I can’t wait for him to approach me—the bell is going to ring—so I step in the room, pass by him and go to my seat. I can’t help but overhear some of their conversation.

  “I made a few calls,” Ms. Peterman says, “and the admission offices are giving you until the end of the day to submit your portfolio.”

  “Thank you. I thought I’d have time to do it before the deadline.” He runs his hand through his light brown hair. “Things really went sideways.”

  She gives him a sympathetic smile. “It was extenuating circumstances, George. The admissions board understands and you deserve a fair shot.”

  “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  He picks up his portfolio and without another look, leaves the room.

  He didn’t even acknowledge me and it stings as much as a slap in the face.

  I try to force myself to listen as Ms. Peterman describes our next unit, ceramics, but I feel the tidal wave of despair rolling over me. Once she’s finished and we’re ready to start working on our own, I stand on shaky feet and walk to her desk.

  “Can I have a pass to the restroom?”

  “Sure, Starlee, they’re hanging by the door.”

  I grab the colorful pass off the hook and exit the room quickly. There’s no bathroom down on the art hall, so I take the ramp to the upper level and turn the corner. Hot tears burn at my eyes. I’d screwed this up for everyone and now the twins, at least George, can barely stand to look at me. I push through the bathroom door and head to the sink, splashing cold water on my face. In the mirror I see how much of a wreck I am. Red eyes. Splotchy face. It’s one thing to be forced away from Dex and Jake, but the twins? I ruined their lives.

  The door opens behind me and I glance down, not wanting anyone to see me like this. I turn on the water again, hoping to look busy, and ignore the footsteps behind me. It’s not until I feel someone behind me that I look up and see George’s face in the mirror. His eyes are sad, ringed with dark circles, and he reaches around me to turn off the water.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” I say, as much about it being the girls' bathroom and also being near me. “We could both get in trouble.”

  “I’m not sure we can get in much more trouble than we already are,” he replies gruffly. “I needed to talk to you.”

  My heart ebbs with pain. I fight the urge to touch his face, soothe the dark smudges under his eyes. “Are you okay? Is Charlie? Why aren’t you in class?”

  He nods. “We’re fine. Not happy, but fine.”

  “I’m so sorry about this,” I say in a rush. “If I could take it back—”

  “Take what back?” he frowns. “You didn’t do anything wro
ng.”

  They keep saying this but it’s not true. Sierra doesn’t think it’s true, either. I inserted myself in a fragile ecosystem and it crumbled. Is this what my mother always suspected?

  “That’s up for debate,” I say. “How’s your dad?”

  “Determined,” he says with a sigh. “I’m not sure why he decided he needed us back home now, but he’s not backing down. Unfortunately, Mrs. Delange and the court agree. He hasn’t done anything out of line. No drinking or smoking, but things are tense. I’m a little worried about Charlie.”

  “How come?”

  “He’s not sleeping. Dad won’t let him play online much. He’s focused on Charlie getting an after-school job, which totally cuts into his gaming time. You know focused Charlie is with the e-sports.” I nod. Focused is an understatement. “He’s got that tournament coming up at the end of the month and he’s hell-bent on going, even though there’s no way Dad will approve.”

  “That sounds really tough. And you? How are you, really?”

  He steps forward and captures my fingers in his. “Coping. Missing you. Missing Sierra and the guys. Lee Vines.”

  “We all miss you, too.” I exhale. “I definitely miss you.”

  I want to kiss him but I’m too aware that I’m on borrowed classroom time. “Are you coming back to art?” I ask again.

  He shakes his head and a guilty look crosses his face. “Mrs. Delange rearranged my schedule.”

  “Why?”

  His jaw clenches. “They’re pushing hard on this, Star.”

  “What? But…” A rock forms in my stomach.

  “The way I see it is if we follow the rules, do everything they say, then maybe we can get back to Sierra’s. We have to prove that she’s providing a safe and secure home and that we’re willing to fight for it.”

  “They really think I’m that bad of an influence?” He doesn’t answer. Just looks sad. “What about lunch? Or after school?”

  “Not right now.” He grimaces.

  “What about Dex and Jake?” His expression says it all and the panic from before bubbles back to the surface. “So that’s it, then.”

  “No,” he replies, with conviction. “That’s not it. We’ll figure something out. Just…” he exhales loudly, “just don’t do anything rash. Be patient. Wait for us.”

  He reaches for me but I’m too rattled.

  “I can’t,” I say, and head back to class, trying to deal with the enormity of the situation. I hope that he’s mistaken about lunch, but he’s not. As the day progresses, it’s clear the boys are no longer in the same lunch period and Jake isn’t in P.E. They’ve vanished from the hallways, like they never existed, and I wander aimlessly, like I’ve lost all of my limbs, wondering if my mother was right all this time. Maybe life is easier alone. That way you can’t get left behind.

  “Are you okay?”

  Gym was over twenty minutes ago and I’m sitting on the bench in the locker room long after the other girls have left.

  “Starlee?” Claire’s hand lands on my shoulder and she sits next to me. “What’s going on?”

  I glance over at my friend—well, someone I think is my friend. It’s hard to know anyone anymore. Hard to trust. Her blonde hair is twisted in a series of tiny braids and then pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her makeup, as always, is on point, thick and dark, giving her an edgy look. Claire is beautiful and she’s revealed a lot about herself to me, but after the last few weeks I’m nervous about trusting people.

  I wipe my nose on my sleeve. “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine.” She leans forward and says in a quiet voice, “I heard about George and Charlie. Is that what this is about?”

  “I guess. Them and the other boys, too. They’re not allowed to see me anymore. I can’t go to their house or the shop. They can’t be in my classes.”

  “Seriously?” She looks surprised. “That’s bullshit. Why not?”

  “I’m considered an 'at risk' youth because I ran away from home last fall.” I use finger quotes at the descriptor, because it’s total B.S.

  “That doesn’t seem right.”

  “Or fair, but you and I both know right and fair don’t really matter.”

  “There’s no way the guys agree with this. I’ve seen them look at you.” Her elbow nudges mine. “They’re into you. Big time. There has to be a way to fix it.”

  “I can’t see how? Sierra is panicked and the social workers are on alert. I can’t risk the twins' chance to get back to her house or Dexter’s probation.” I drop my head in my hands and groan. “You know this is all Christina’s doing. She’s pissed about homecoming and Jake. We were idiots to think we could get the upper hand on that.”

  She’s quiet for a moment. Thoughtful, although I sense the anger she carries for Christina under the surface. “First of all, you need to understand a few things. One, this isn’t over. We just need to figure out what direction we want to take it. Second, I will not allow Christina to ruin another person’s life. But we have to be smart about it. Super smart, because she is a conniving bitch. And third,” she nudges me, “I’m a loyal friend, Starlee, and Jake and the other guys have always done right by me. I’ll do right by them, too.”

  Her conviction stirs something inside of me. “I’ve given up on things so many times. Over and over. It’s how my mother raised me.”

  “Your mother isn’t here and it’s time for you to learn a different way.”

  “You think I should fight for them.”

  “And yourself.” She gives me a small smile. “You’re worth it.”

  I hold her eye, understanding it now. This isn’t about me losing something. It’s about me holding on to what’s important. I did it once when I came out here on my own and I’ll do it again, except this time there are bigger implications.

  “What do we do first?” I ask.

  She grins in return. “We use our brains. This isn’t going to be an easy task, but it’s winter and we live in the middle of god-forsaken-nowhere. We have time and a need for vengeance.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that, right?” I say, but the gleam in her eye makes me laugh. It makes me hopeful. It makes me really glad she’s my friend.

  6

  Jake

  The house feels weird without the twins. When they first moved in, I hated it—kind of hated them. George was so loud and quirky. He made so much freaking noise, either banging around his room, knocking things over or playing loud music. Charlie was the complete opposite, an introvert, closed-off, shy. It took him months before he relaxed around us.

  I got used to it—them. George is fun, he just needed a way to channel all that energy. Sierra put him to work, let him paint the walls at the shop. I encouraged him to work out and join the football team. It took a while for me to get him, but Charlie is a good guy, too. He’s smarter than the rest of us, more thoughtful. Moving to Sierra’s probably affected him more than the rest of us, he just didn’t show it.

  “I’m going out for a run,” I tell Sierra. She and Dexter are in the kitchen. I pause in the door at the scent of cinnamon and chocolate. “What’s that?”

  “Try it,” she says holding up the pastry. “I’m thinking of calling it, 'Hell’s Hazelnut Puff'.”

  Dexter shakes his head but keeps rolling dough. Sierra frowns. “No?”

  I shove the pastry in my mouth and holy crap, it’s good. Flakey and soft and damn. I reach for another, but she swats my hand away. “Work on the name. You’ve nailed the product.”

  “Don’t stay out too late. I don’t like you running on the trail after dark.”

  “I won’t.” We don’t have to worry so much about people out here but there’s other stuff like injuries and getting stuck out there, or worse, bears.

  I grab my gloves and hat, it’s cold outside, and start down the sidewalk that goes in front of the lodge. The office lights are off, they’re closed, but way back behind the trees I see them burning in Mrs. Nye’s house and I can’t help but wonder w
hat Starlee’s up to, if she’s in her room, in her bed.

  My mind wanders to the time we spent in there together. Starlee and I haven’t had sex, but we’ve been intimate—close. I know what she feels like, looks like. I’ve seen her face when she’s falling over the edge and sometimes it’s hard to think of anything else.

  I run my hand over my face and shake off the thoughts. I need to get my blood pumping somewhere other than my dick, so I pick up the pace and jog past the little shops and restaurants until I get to the two-mile trail that weaves behind Lee Vines.

  Running brings me peace—as does anything physical. I’m biding my time, waiting to hear about any scholarship offers. I know I’ve got to keep my grades up, something I’m worried about if Sierra won’t let me get help from Starlee. Somehow, that girl gets me and is able to settle my mind and help me unscramble the words. Her voice is calm, sweet. She’s smart and patient.

  My lungs strain as I race up the trail. My thighs ache. I push aside the unfairness of the situation. The loss of my brothers. I know this is a blip in time because they can’t keep us apart forever, but it sucks.

  I reach the peak and stop, catching my breath and looking over the lights of Lee Vines. The Christmas tree twinkles below and it hurts to think we’ll be spending it without the twins. The truth of the situation hits hard. Not only did the boys lose their home, but we lost our family. To make it worse, the tie that bound us all together, even more than Sierra, has been pushed away.

  It’s not in my nature to give up—to settle without a fight. I know it’s not in Dexter’s, either. I inhale the cold winter air and start back down the trail, feeling the start of a plan building with every step. I’m not ready to give up and I hope my brothers aren’t either.

  7

  Starlee