What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(65)

“I was hoping I was gon’ see you again,” says Rondell, scratching the back of his head as he talks. “We ain’t get to finish our . . . conversation.” Seems like both of us are feeling shy bout what happened at Pizza Land. I ain’t even sure why I did it, cept that Nia was flirting so much it made it hard for me to see or think straight. I thought that taking control for once would help, but after, I ain’t feel as good as I thought I would.

“Yeah, me too,” I say, looking over at my packed backpack. I’m nervous that if I tell him I ran away, I’m gon’ have to tell him why. That would mean telling him bout all the secrets and Nia with Jesse and the headshot that tore Momma and Granddaddy apart. It’s too much to say, I know, cause it’s too much to live. I wonder if there’s any way to take all that stuff in my head and make it sound simple. “That’s actually why I came here,” I say finally.

“To the pool?” Rondell asks, looking back and forth from me to the water.

“To you.” When I say the words, they sound serious, even to me. But I ain’t mean it that way. I sound like one of them people in Momma’s romantic movies that make her cry. I see Rondell’s face start to look worried, so I know I gotta fix what I said.

“I ran away from my Granddaddy’s house. And I don’t know too many people here in Lansing.” I talk fast. “So I was hoping you could help me figure out where to go.” I tear at my nails as I talk, scrape dirt from under six before Rondell says anything.

“You ran away?” I can’t tell if he’s impressed or angry, cause even though his eyebrows frown, his mouth tilts upward like a half smile.

“Yeah,” I say, lifting my head to look Rondell in the eye. Even if he don’t like it, I feel proud of what I’ve done.

“Rondell!” Dominique’s scream is a sharp knife that slices through our conversation. I turn before Rondell does. Porsha and Dominique are looking at us, but the boys are busy splashing. I can’t tell if Dominique is mad, but she’s standing at the edge of the pool with her hands on her hips, watching us like we stole something. I think Rondell’s gon’ go back to his cousins now, but he just chuckles and shakes his head.

“She always so loud,” he whispers, then smiles at me. I smile back, cause I think he forgot bout being disappointed. “You wanna see something?” Rondell says, just like I said to him last time. I wonder if his belly is filled with butterflies like mine was when I said it.

“See what?” I ask, trying not to get tricked the same way I tricked him.

“I think I got somewhere you can go.” He grabs my hand. His palm feels clammy against mine, still wrinkled from the pool. I ain’t ever held hands with a boy, but this ain’t quite holding hands. More like he wants me to stand up and is only grabbing my hand to help.

“Okay,” I whisper, remembering to take my backpack. I peek back at his girl cousins as we walk away. Porsha has joined in the splashing with the boys, but Dominique’s still standing there watching us. I wonder if we should go over and say something to her, but Rondell don’t seem to care. He leads me past the pool, then past the locker rooms. We end up on the other side of the building, outside the gate. I suddenly remember Charlotte’s bike, leaning against the pool gate where I can’t see it no more.

“Where we going?” I ask anxiously, but he don’t answer. Just squeezes my hand and keeps walking, like he knows I’m gon’ follow him anywhere. Now we walking cross the half-empty parking lot. We get to the end, past the very last space. My hands start to tremble.

“You need somewhere to hide, right?” Rondell asks, and I nod yes, even though I ain’t really put together running away and hiding. If Granddaddy showed up right now, I don’t think I would hide. I bet I would hop in his Cadillac and try to pretend like none of this ever happened.

There is a giant green dumpster at the edge of the parking lot. I guess this is where Rondell been meaning to go. He walks me behind the dumpster like it’s a fortress. ’Cept it smells like sour milk and mildew and flies buzz around like they’re at home and I’m the intruder.

“What we doin’ back here?” I look around with my hand pinching my nose. Rondell sits on a bunch of wood that I guess could be steps.

“You need somewhere to hide, right?” He says the same words again like it’s a new argument. I don’t know if I should just agree and smile or point out to him that a dumpster ain’t no good place to take a girl, even if she needs to hide. But then he pats the spot beside him for me to sit, and I remind myself that he’s tryna do a nice thing. Plus, I ain’t got nobody else. I sit down and try to convince my senses to stop working, just for now.

“I know it’s not really nice here,” Rondell says like he can read my thoughts, “but it’s quiet. And it’s safe.” He picks at his fingernails the same way I pick at my fingernails. I wonder if he’s nervous bout something.

“You come here a lot?”

“Yeah,” Rondell says, then adds, “I used to. Back when my Pops was alive, I used to come here all the time.” He stares down at the ground, so I stare down at the ground.

After I count ten whole seconds of silence, I finally ask, “Why?” I can tell Rondell’s feeling shy, but I figure maybe he just needs someone to listen to him talk bout his daddy and the memories, just like me.