Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(3)

I gave him a side eye but finally replied, “Thanks,” as I pulled it back over my head, wishing I could set it on fire instead.

“No problem. At least, now if you decide to run your mouth, I won’t have to lie when I tell the whole school you flashed me your bra.”

“You wouldn’t.” I shot him an evil glare that made him smile.

“Try me,” he said with a staggering confidence I’d never seen in a boy my age. Not that I had any plans of telling anyone anyway, but with one look, he solidified that even further.

“Whatever.” I walked back to my small, makeshift storage cabinet and began emptying the contents.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously while I stacked all of my old sketchbooks and barely there stumps of leftover pencils.

“I’m taking my stuff so you don’t steal it.”

“I won’t steal your crap. I’m not a thief,” he responded, and there was something in his voice that made me feel guilty for having suggested otherwise.

“Right. Well. I’m not chancing it. I didn’t know anyone else came here.” I looked around the room for something to carry the little pile I had accumulated, but as I turned, everything went rolling to the floor. “Ugh,” I groaned, immediately diving after them.

“You don’t have to take your stuff. I won’t mess with it.” He squatted down and began helping me collect them. “Besides, I don’t have much use for a centimeter-long, pink pencil.” He lifted the remnant off the ground and held it out for me. His eyes were warm, completely unlike the ones that had been teasing me only minutes before.

“Thanks,” I replied, eyeing him suspiciously. However, without anywhere else to store my drawings, I was forced to take his word for it.

My mother hated that I spent so much time poring over my art. Every chance she got, she threw my supplies away. I thought it had less to do with me drawing and more to do with my father being an out-of-work artist who refused to get a job doing anything else.

“So, do you come here a lot?” Till asked, pulling off a beanie and running a hand through his dark, unkempt hair.

“Well, I did.” I rolled my eyes, but he narrowed his and remained silently staring at me from a few feet away. It was the most awkward standoff of my adolescent life, but he didn’t budge, and neither did I.

Suddenly, a woman’s angry shrill vibrated against the windows, scaring us both.

“Till, get your ass back home right now!”

He quickly grabbed my hand and dragged me flat against the back wall, hiding us from view.

With a finger over his mouth, he urged, “Shhh.” He leaned away only long enough to peer out the corner of the window. “Get down,” he ordered then pulled me to the floor beside him.

After a few seconds, we heard her voice moving farther away and he let out a relieved sigh.

“Was that your mom? She sounded mad. You should probably get going.”

“She always sounds like that, which is exactly why I’m not heading home. She just wants me to watch my brothers so she can follow my dad around and make sure he’s not seeing Mrs. Cassidy anymore.”

“Mrs. Cassidy? Isn’t she married?”

“Yep,” he answered nonchalantly.

“As in your girlfriend, Lynn Cassidy? Her mom?”

“Yep,” Till repeated, not reacting in the least to my disgusted tone. “Hey. How do you know Lynn’s my girlfriend?”

“Because we’ve been going to school together since kindergarten.” I gave him yet another disgusted look and rolled my eyes.

“I knew it! I thought you went to East Side too!”

I knew everything about Till Page, yet he thought we went to school together. How flattering.

“What’s your name?” he asked as I sat down against the wall, pulling my pad and pencils into my lap.

“Cindy Lou,” I responded, not looking back up and desperately wishing he would leave.

“No, it’s not.”

“Daphne?”

“Not it, either.”

“Ivy?” I smarted one last time, pretending to be busy by doodling lightning bolts.

“Nope,” he responded but didn’t inquire any further. “So, you mind if I hang out for a little while?”

“It’s a free world, Till. I don’t exactly own the place,” I said, disinterested—even though, on the inside, I was anything but.

“Okay.” He sank down against the opposite wall.

For thirty minutes, he sat there staring at me. It was unnerving, but I tried not to let him see that. I did my absolute best to ignore him, but as my pencil moved over the paper, his eyes began to form within the lines.

Eventually, he got up and headed back to the window.

“See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder.



At school the next day, Till didn’t acknowledge me at all. It wasn’t like I’d expected him to come sit with me at lunch or anything. We weren’t friends, but it still stung when he walked right past me, not even bothering to spare a glance in my direction. Maybe it was for the best, though, after the fool I’d made of myself the day before.

That night, as per usual, I made my way to the abandoned apartment as soon as my parents started arguing about the power bill. When I walked in, I saw a small, plastic bag on the ground. On a torn-out piece of notebook paper was a handwritten note.