Lost to be found

Part 10

Dinner was a bit awkward for me. Ms. Diona and Mr. Thompson kept glancing at me, their expressions shifting as they exchanged looks that felt charged with unspoken words. It was as if they were communicating silently, reading each other's thoughts without saying a word. Could they read my mind too? Of course not—that thought was ridiculous.

When I caught their gaze, I felt exposed, like a specimen under a microscope.

"You seemed deep in thought," Declan said suddenly, placing his hands over mine and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles soothingly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I am," I replied quickly, wanting to deflect their attention away from me. "May I be excused?"

"Yes, you can," Ms. Diona said with a warm smile as I stood up from the table.

As I approached the stairs to go to my room, I couldn't help but to overhear another whisper "She doesn't like to eat with us. She's going to have to get used to it sooner or later." 

My heart sank at their words as I lowered my head and continued up the stairs. It wasn't that I didn't want to eat with them; it was just that their presence made me feel awkward—like I was left out of an ongoing joke.

Once in my room, I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake off the feeling of being judged. Footsteps echoed outside my door, making me hope I hadn't ruined dinner for them.

"Come in," I called when I heard a knock.

"Dad and I are going for a stroll," Declan said as he entered my room. "We'll be back later. Good night! See you tomorrow?"

I smiled back at him, feeling a flicker of warmth inside despite the earlier discomfort. "I have nowhere else to be. Good night!" He laughed softly before turning away.

As I lay there staring at the ceiling until sleep finally took me, dreams of home and family flooded my mind. 

***

The next morning, I woke up to knocks on my door again. "Moya, sweetie! Can you get dressed and help me downstairs?"

"Huh, oh, ummm, yes." I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I wasn't sure when I fell asleep or even if Declan came back. 

I looked outside, the sun had barely risen. It was around dawn. Why is she even up so early. God dammit. 

I got dressed and headed downstairs. I heard a few whispers from the kitchen. I leaned against the wall, listening. 

"Why are you putting so much effort into teaching her? She's not like us which means she's not fit to be luna." 

"She isn't like us," Diona replied firmly but gently. "But we can teach her! She has what it takes; she ended up here for a reason."

"I do trust you, it's just that there will be too much..." 

My heart raced as I leaned against the wall listening intently—were they talking about me? What did they mean by Luna? Just then, Declan's voice called out from upstairs: "Moya! Where are you?"

I immediately took off up the stairs, keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible. I hope that they didn't realize that I was listening. 

I could see Declan in my room. I headed in the bathroom and splashed some water on my face. "I'm still in the bathroom." I shouted back. 

In a matter of moments Declan stood at the bathroom. His eyes looked panic and his breathing heavy. He pulled me into a hug. I felt his hands tremble around me as he held me tightly, a little too tight. "Are you ok?" I asked.  

This reaction was too much. It freaked me out a little. "Yes. I'm ok. It's just that when I didn't see you in your room...ummm...forget it. I just wanted to check on you before my jog."  

He released me and, still holding onto my hands. His gaze lingered on my face as he brushed a stray hair behind my ear. "You don't look too bad in the morning."

I rolled my eyes playfully but felt heat rise to my cheeks. "I look way better than you." "Why don't you say that to my face?" he challenged, his tone teasing yet serious. I met his gaze—those eyes held something deeper than mere friendship—a connection that made my heart race unnaturally fast. "I...ummm... I look." 

"Others need to use the bathroom as well." 

We both jumped apart as if caught doing something wrong. Guilt washed over me for reasons I couldn't quite understand. I dropped my hands to my side.  Why is my heart beating so fast? 

"May I use the bathroom?" Mr. Thompson asked again, looking at the both of us. 

"Oh yes, I should get going." I made my way passed Mr. Thompson. He gave me a slight nod and I left but not before hearing him whisper, "Control your emotions or else she'll get hurt. Now go run it off." 

I continued down the stairs, trying to ignore what I heard.  

Or else I'll get hurt. This is getting scarier by the minute. What kind of place did I land myself in? What kind of weird stuff are they into? What kind of danger have I gotten into? 

"Moya, come on. We have a big breakfast ahead of us." Ms. Diona stood before me, giving that motherly smile, that smile of love, but I didn't feel loved. I felt scared and confused, I wanted to leave but had nowhere to go. I had to stay. 

"Yeah. Let's make breakfast." 

***

She guided me through preparing breakfast with an intensity that made me feel both included and overwhelmed. She could tell that I was feeling off by the way she kept glancing at me. But she dared not say anything about it.

'That's the wrong spoon! It needs a bit more of this," she instructed sharply but kindly. Each command felt like a test—one I desperately wanted to pass but feared failing.

" We can add that later. Flip it or it's going to burn." I could feel my head spinning in circles, yet I did as I was told, trying my best not to let my mind stray. I had to do this when I'm alone. 

I was finally done making breakfast. I felt her behind me. "Good job." She pats me on the back then heads for the dining room. 

Finally finished, I announced, "Breakfast is ready!" My voice wavered slightly above normal volume but was enough for Mr. Thompson to come downstairs just as Declan walked through the front door.

We all sat down for breakfast. 

I never noticed before, but they ate a lot, like really a lot. The pile of food disappeared soon after. I had to look them up and down. They didn't have a lot of weight. They weren't thick, far from it actually but they ate more than most people. 

I could assume that it was because they exercised. I did see Declan training in the park. But something in my gut says I'm only lying to myself.  

After breakfast concluded and everyone scattered off on their separate paths, Declan turned back toward me with an almost hesitant expression as if he wanted to say something more before heading out the door once again.

"Come on! We have plenty of cooking practice to do," Ms. Diona urged gently.