Short Story Collection

The Lost Boy

Winter formal wasn't really that big a deal here in Bloomingdale—barely anyone ever went. Still, it was an excuse to get dressed up and go dance to lame music with your best friends. Who could pass that up, even in backwoods Montana?

When I got downstairs, though, and saw Jarrod's face, I couldn't help but worry. He stood next to my father, who himself was radiating excitement and pride, lighting up at seeing me all dolled up. My boyfriend, on the other hand, looked like he could have passed out. He was uneasy. Forget that—he was downright anxious. Jesus, can't Dad leave him be? He pulled the same things with Mike before prom last year. We didn't even make it to the dance before Mikey had broken up with me.

Even driving to the dance, Jarrod never said a word to me, keeping his eyes on the road and both his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Finally, after half an hour of silence and barely dancing at the formal, I pulled Jarrod out into the hallway past where the dance was being held in the cafeteria.

"Alright," I demanded, crossing my arms. "What did he say to you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked,genuinely seeming puzzled.

"My father. What did he say to scare you?"

"Scare me?" Jarrod actually laughed at this. "I've been dating for years, and in that time, the fathers I have dealt with have ranged from a retired army sniper to an FBI special agent to a high ranking member of the Russian mafia. Your dad, the electrician,doesn't even rank in the list of things that scare me."

"Then why are you being so—"

"Are you sleeping with Brandon?"

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach;oddly enough, I find that I have to physically restrain myself from laughing. "You think I am cheating on you—and not just cheating, actually sleeping with—the lacrosse team's main bench-warmer?"

He looks mortified at my reaction—and rightly so. "Amy told me that Justin told him—"

"That I slept with a boy I've met maybe twice, one time by total accident?" I scoffed. "Justin and Brandon are parasites. They probably came up with that to try to get themselves moved up in social status. They aren't exactly high on the totem pole, you know."

"Neither am I," he pointed out, surprising bitterness in his voice.

"True, chess team does nothing for your social ranking. But dating head cheerleader does." I smiled wickedly,wrapping my arms around his neck. He still looked unconvinced. "Hey. What's really going on?"

"If I weren't with you, you'd treat me like them, wouldn't you? I mean, you used to. All through middle school."

I stared blankly at him. He'd slipped his hands around my waist, and we were swaying to the soft music from the cafeteria. "What?"

"Jealous Jerry?" he responded begrudgingly."That was me, you know."

I laughed at the memory, placing his face with the nerdy kid with braces that used to watch me from down the hall between classes. "Oh, wow. That was you?How 'bout that? You've certainly improved in the facial department."

"You nearly got me arrested because you called me a stalker," he continued as if not hearing me. He was speaking directly into my ear, his hands holding me tightly against him as we swayed. He shifted, reaching into his pocket to grab something, but I couldn't pull back far enough to see what. I couldn't shake a sudden feel of unease,that basic human instinct of wrongness.

"What are you talking about?"I asked apprehensively. His arms tightened around my waist, almost painfully.

"My parents thought there was something wrong with me. They sent me to reform school for two years. I bet you didn't even notice I was gone." He voice had fallen to hushed tones,sending chills across my skin.

"Jare, you're freaking me out a little," I mutter. "Cut it out."

"I bet you won't even admit that this is all your fault. But, without you, I never would have gone to St. Xavier's. I wouldn't have met the Boys. And I wouldn't have to do this."

I tried to pull back, struggling against his imprisoning arms. "What—"

The pain. That was the only thing I could think of in the moments after it happened. The knife had entered right below my sternum, missing my heart carefully and purposefully. Instead, it nicked a lung. I could feel the blood flooding in, filling them and choking me. Drowning me.

"I'm sorry," I heard him murmur as he pulled the blade out and I fell forward, blood staining the front of my snow-white dress as I gasp for precious oxygen.

That darkness was drawing in. As my eyes began to flicker, my body already numb and cold as ice, I saw two unfamiliar boys turn the corner and glance at me briefly before looking back up to Jarrod.But they didn't yell or call for help or rush to my aid. Instead, one merely clapped a hand on Jarrod's shoulder while the other shook his hand firmly."Well done, Jarrod. You've passed the final stage of initiation. Welcome to the Lost Boys."

There was more after that. I know there was. I just didn't live long enough to witness it.