Alyssa Chávez has felt alone for most of her life. She was never good at making friends. She always felt a distance between her and her family. So when the apocalypse happened, her social life didn't take much of a hit. After losing her family, Alys...
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Chapter Twenty-four Noah
Alyssa was lying on her bed with Enid's magazine in front of her. There was actually some stuff in there that would've been useful for the party like makeup and dress tips, but there was one page that led her to read it over and over again: '3 ways to tell how he feels about you'.
The article listed 3 simple things to look out for. '1: he gives you small gifts'. Alyssa could already cross that one off the list. That star charm hanging from her neck was enough to check that box.
'2: he remembers details about your life'. That one was certain too. Carl was very observant and he always listened carefully when she talked about her past. He knew pretty much everything at this point.
'3: he finds excuses to spend time with you'. Now, Alyssa was on the fence with that one. They'd been pretty much forced to stay together ever since the sickness in the prison, so it was hard to tell. She'd have to pay close attention to that one here.
Without all three guaranteed, Alyssa refused to admit her feelings. Having feelings at all seemed very embarrassing and being rejected would be even worse. She had suspicions, but no real data. If some dumb teen magazine would allow her to collect that data, so be it.
Alyssa got up from the bed and when she walked over to the desk on the opposite side of the room to put the magazine in one of its drawers, she tripped over something on the floor and just barely managed to avoid hitting the ground by grabbing onto the windowsill. "Son of a bitch," she muttered under her breath.
Alyssa turned around and saw one of the floor planks sticking out above the others by barely half an inch. Alyssa narrowed her eyes and crouched down next to it. She pried her fingernails under the plank and managed to pull it up far enough to stick her fingers under and lift it up. Beneath it was a hole in the flooring with some items hidden inside. There was a Nirvana lighter to go with a pack of Malboros and a clear plastic bag with some funky-smelling herbs. Next was a glass bottle of some sort of liquid. The label had been ripped off, but based on the rest of the items it was safe to bet it was some kind of alcohol.
This was someone's secret. There was someone, probably a teenager, that hid their stash there, away from their parents. It almost felt like she was intruding. This had been someone's home and now they're gone. Maybe she should've left it untouched, but Alyssa knew no one was coming back for it.
She wasn't sure what to do with it other than keep it there so the secret could live on. For a while, at least. Alyssa knew that with her emotional state there was bound to be a day when she would get the urge to use it. It wasn't healthy or appropriate for someone her age, but that was the point. Who gives a shit when you could die any day?
When someone knocked on her bedroom door, Alyssa quickly stuffed the magazine in with the other stuff, put the plank back in place, and moved the rug over it. She moved to stand in front of her canvas and grabbed a paintbrush. "Come in," Alyssa invited in a calm voice.
