The Accidentals(49)

“An address in the next town. My mother lived there when she was in high school. I want to see it.”

He’s quiet for a second. “She went to your school, right?”

“Only for senior year.”

“And then?”

“She got into U Mass, but she took a gap year. But I was born before she could start college.”

“So your dad lived here somewhere?”

“Somewhere.”

“You don’t know where?”

I shake my head.

We walk a while in silence before Haze asks me a question. “Have you found what you were looking for here?”

Have I? I still don’t know what Frederick is thinking half the time, or why he’s never been in my life. “I’m working on it,” I say.

He doesn’t call me on it.

It takes us forty-five minutes to find the house on Armory Street. And when we arrive there isn’t much to see.

“Kind of needs a paint job,” Haze observes.

“At least,” I say. It’s a sad old wooden house with a sagging porch. “It must have looked better in 1997.” That would have been the year my mother graduated from Claiborne.

“I’m sure it did,” Haze says softly. But we both have eyes. This isn’t a nice neighborhood. There’s a rusting boat in the yard across the street.

If I came to Claiborne seeking my mom, I haven’t found her yet.

“Let’s go back,” I say.





By the time we make it back to campus, we’re both freezing. “Are you hungry?” I ask. “I already ate. But I could get you something.”

He squeezes my hand again. “No. And I really just came to see you.”

When I look up, my old friend is watching me, his gaze so familiar that it makes me ache. “My building is over there.”

He stops on the sidewalk. “Are you going to get in trouble if I stay over?”

“Well…” God, I really don’t like breaking rules. But I know the odds of getting caught are negligible. “You’re not allowed to be in my room after ten. But nobody ever checks. And my roommate is away tonight.”

“Okay then.”

The courtyard of Habernacker is lit by old-fashioned lanterns. Haze pulls out his phone. “Which room is yours?”

“That one.” I point. Aurora’s red curtains are visible in the window.

Haze points the phone at the building and takes a picture. “So I can remember where you are.”

I look all the way up the facade of our entryway and see someone looking down, a figure silhouetted against a fifth-floor window. Jake. I’m about to raise a hand to wave when he turns away.

“Lead on,” Haze says.

I lead him upstairs to my room, where Haze ducks in and looks around. “It’s nice. Old-school.”

“Literally. Students have been living here for ninety years.”

He puts his duffel bag down on Aurora’s chair and runs a hand through his hair. “After two days on that bus, I could really use a shower.”

“Oh. Sure. Let me get you my stuff.” From the bedroom, I fetch my towel and my caddy with soap and shampoo.

He grins. “Just like summer camp.”

“Follow me.” I go out into the hall and check the bathroom, which is empty. “Okay, you’re all set. Lock the bathroom door, okay? And I’ll leave the door to my room open.”

I try reading one of Aurora’s magazines while I wait for him, but it’s no use. I’m excited to see him, but more than a little unsettled.

When the door opens again, he tiptoes in wearing my pink towel around his waist, his clothes slung over his tattooed arm. I laugh at the sight. “You should see yourself. The badass in the pink skirt.”

He doesn’t speak until he’d closed the door. “Somebody spotted me,” he says, his voice dropping low. “A guy was giving me the stink-eye in the hallway.”

“Oh.”

“Seriously. This guy looked like he was about to go and call security.”

“Did he have blond hair and black glasses?”

“Yeah. He did.”

I feel a pang. “That’s our neighbor. He’s a good guy. I don’t think he’d do that.” But I do owe him an apology.

“They let guys live here?”

“We’re on separate floors.”

Haze goes into the bedroom and closes the door. He comes out wearing his jeans, but no shirt.

Neither of us says anything when he sits down next to me, but my heart gets a little skittish at the proximity of all that bare skin and muscle. I punch him playfully, connecting with the eagle tattoo on his biceps, then shake out my fist. “Ouch.”

“You see something you like? It’s a lot easier to get to the gym when you don’t have any homework.”

“How’s the job?”

“It’s okay. I’m working in the parking lot right now. They move you around all the time, so you don’t get too bored. But you do anyway.”

“Did you register for classes yet?” Haze is supposed to start community college sometime this year.

“Didn’t get around to it,” he says.

It’s very weird to sit here on our S.L.O. with Haze.