✓ | 2. young blood [STEVE HARRINGTON]

ten.

CHAPTER TEN:
THE OLD JUNKYARD

[ THE SPY PART I ]

❖ ❖ ❖

          When they arrived at the Harrington household later that night, now once more without Dustin, all the lights in the place were off. It was a rather large home, built in a modern, open style (Thomas could already tell that Steve came from a rich family) which only amplified the emptiness. After nudging the door open with his shoulder, Steve entered the home first, and then flicked on the hallway light, both downstairs and upstairs, illuminating the whole building. The silence seemed to only deepen as the lights spread.

          They were alone.

"My parents are on a business trip," Steve muttered, and Thomas had a feeling from his tone of voice that they were on business trips quite often. "I have a younger brother — bit of a dick, really — " unsurprising, Thomas thought, "but he's at his friend's place for the night."

           Thomas nodded but didn't speak.

          Ahead of him, Steve moved down the hallway to the kitchen. "You can take the couch, if you want. Want something to eat before you sleep?"

          "Toast?"

"Yeah, we should have some bread. No jam or anything fancy, though. Butter good enough?"

Too hungry to care, Thomas nodded, following Steve along to the kitchen. " Can I use your phone?"

          Once Steve gave him permission, and while the boy made Thomas a slice of toast, he stood by the phone built into the wall on the opposite side of Steve's spacious kitchen, dialling home, trying to reach Joyce or Jonathan or even Will, and then the Wheeler's repetitively. Nobody answered (aside from Ted Wheeler occasionally, his tone nasal and annoyed). His worry tripled in size.

"Joyce?" he spoke into the phone, for the third time, and was greeted by a simple buzz of the line cutting off. Nobody had answered. His chest swelled with worry, and he couldn't help but wonder if any of them were worried, too; he hadn't come home, and it was almost midnight, which meant he'd been out more than twelve hours.

"Hey. You must be hungry," Steve's voice came from behind him. With a sigh he hung up, and turned, seeing that the boy was standing beside the marble island in the centre of the room. With a grating noise, he slid a plate of toast across to Thomas' side. "You look worried," Steve noticed.

"Nobody's answering," he explained, placing the phone back before moving to join Steve. "Not at home. Nancy and Mike aren't home, either."