The Lost Saint(17)

It was a dream about the way things were once, and the way they should have always been—but it haunted me like the worst of any nightmare.

I finally got out of bed and went to the stack of Masonite boards next to my desk. I pulled out one painting at a time until I found the one I’d been working on the night Jude ran away. It was a picture of Jude from that fishing trip to Grandpa Kramer’s pond. I’d fallen asleep at my desk while working on the painting, and was awoken several hours later by my mother’s screams. She’d found Jude’s note on the table, the one that said he was leaving, and her mental state had not been quite solid since.

I set the painting on my desk and looked it over. The background was there, and I’d roughed in the basic colors for Jude. I’d been practicing a new technique Daniel had taught me, trying to distract myself while I waited for news from the hospital about his condition. But when I found out Jude had left, I couldn’t bring myself to finish the project. Maybe I was just waiting for the right moment—waiting for him to come back.

I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a rubber-banded bundle of photos. I found the snapshot of Jude I’d been working from and put it on top of the painting. Then I flipped through the rest of the pictures until I found the one I was looking for. In it, Daniel, Jude, and I all sat on a boulder by the pond. Our half-eaten lunches sat on our laps, and our arms were wrapped around one another’s shoulders. Jude made a gesture with one of his hands—three fingers extended. I’d almost forgotten about that. It was the sign we made up that spring for our little pack: THREE MUSKETEERS FOREVER.

I pulled that photo out and held it for a while.

Last night I’d decided I couldn’t go to college because of everything that was happening. Last night I thought I hated Jude. But now I knew the real reason I couldn’t go to college, the real reason I couldn’t leave home: because I’d promised myself that when Jude came back, I’d be here to help him the way I’d helped Daniel.

Everyone kept telling me not to go looking for Jude. Like it was the one thing they expected me to do. Maybe that’s because they knew that’s what I should be doing?

I didn’t have enough control over my powers to physically fight anyone yet—what happened yesterday with Pete and his friends proved that—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try to find Jude. I could still help him. Maybe if I got him to come home. Figured out how to help him get his life back, the way I’d helped Daniel—the way I promised I would—then maybe Dad would stop leaving, and Mom would level out, and maybe my family would be like it had been in my dream. The way we’d all wanted it to be forever.

And then maybe, just maybe, I could even start thinking about going to college. About having a future of my very own.





CHAPTER SEVEN


What April Knows



SATURDAY AFTERNOON




I stood outside the old hardwood door, my hand perched just above the weathered wood, unsure if I had the nerve to go through with this plan. Something that had happened yesterday kept playing out in my mind all morning, pushing me in this direction until I was standing on this doorstep. But I didn’t know if I was ready for the answers I might get if somebody actually answered the door.

I knew I’d promised not to go looking for Jude on my own. But I hadn’t planned on going alone. I’d have Daniel with me. At least, that had been the original plan.

Only Daniel wasn’t answering his phone. I’d called him three times, to no avail. I wondered if his phone had been damaged more than we’d originally thought and had finally petered out, so I decided to go over to his place to tell him my idea.

However, I was halfway there when he finally called me back.

“I’m sick,” he said, his voice sounding distant.

“It’s probably because you wouldn’t let me take you to the hospital. You’ve probably got an infection.”

“I did go to the hospital. I’ve got the stitches to prove it. And I probably picked up some bug while I was there.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, it felt like he was blaming me for his illness. “I can bring you some soup. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“No,” he said a little too abruptly. “Leave me alone.”

“What?” My voice caught a bit in my throat.

Daniel sighed into the phone. “Sorry. I don’t know what … I don’t know if I’m contagious. Just stay away, okay?”

“But there’s no one there to take care of you,” I said. “When was the last time you were even sick anyway?”

That was one of the few benefits of being an Urbat—I hadn’t even had so much as a sniffle in the last ten months. Daniel probably hadn’t been sick a day in his life in the last eighteen years. A common cold might knock him flat.

“I can take care of myself.”

I sighed. “Just tell me you aren’t trying to avoid me on purpose. Are you still mad at me for what happened with Pete?”

“No, Gracie,” he said. “I was never mad at you in the first place. I just feel like sleeping all day. And you know you’re not really supposed to be inside my place. I mean, what could you even do to help me?”

I still felt terrible about last night, and it made me feel worse that he wouldn’t let me help him now. But if that’s the way he wanted it, I wasn’t going to force myself into his apartment.