He looks at me with hooded eyes, and I flash back to this morning. To him staring at me from the woods like I had something he wanted. My skin buzzes with warning, but there’s a familiar ache in my chest. Alarmed, I step back. I start to turn away, but his hand lashes out, his fingers encircling my wrist. Pain ignites the scratches on my arm. My pencil hits the floor with a clatter, but when I try to pull free, his grip tightens.
“Sonia, wait.” His eyes connect with mine. For a careless moment my body thrills with electricity and I’m sure something stirs in the space between us. But then he looks away. “I need your help.”
A couple of people turn to see what’s going on. My heart thunders in my ears. I stare at his hand on my arm, then raise my gaze to his face.
“What are you doing in here?” Dina’s voice cuts between us, startling me. She’s across the room and by my side before I take my next breath.
Marcus stiffens, but doesn’t look away from me. “Just trying to get a cup of coffee.”
“Get out before I call the sheriff.”
His eyes widen, but his jaw goes tight. “Has ordering coffee become some crime I’m unaware of?”
“If you don’t let go of my niece, I’ll have you arrested for assault.”
He looks at his hand on my wrist. His face reddens and he lets go. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Out. Now.”
I cradle my tender arm against my chest, the heat of his touch cooling as I step away.
Dina looks like she might physically pick him up and throw him out, even though he’s twice her size. Marcus slides out of the booth, slouching when he gets to his feet like he’s trying to disappear inside his own skin. He glances at me one last time before pulling his hood up, and I want to say something, but Dina’s glare keeps my lips sealed.
“Thanks for the hospitality,” Marcus mutters.
Everyone in the diner watches as he slips out the door.
“Good on you, Dina.”
“Can you believe the sheriff let that monster run free?”
My thoughts get lost amid the rise of voices and I don’t realize one of them is speaking to me until Dina puts her hands on my shoulders and looks straight into my eyes.
“Sonia? Do you want me to call the sheriff?”
“What?” I blink. “No.”
She frowns. “What did he want? What did he say?”
“He . . . tried to order a coffee.”
Through the window, I watch Marcus cross the street and disappear into the shadows of the park, his head bent low. My memory automatically flashes back to the woods, running, unable to breathe. Somehow it’s harder to imagine his face behind me . . . but maybe it’s just that I don’t want it to be him. A chill runs up my spine.
“Hey, listen to me.” Dina grips my shoulders. “If he comes here again, I don’t want you anywhere near him, okay? You come get me or Noah and we’ll take care of it.”
I hesitate. An hour ago, I wouldn’t have argued. But my heart is unsettled and there’s nothing I’m sure of anymore. “He didn’t do anything. . . .”
“With parents like his—” She stops herself. “I don’t trust that kid. And he’s not good for business.”
I look at the remaining customers, who still seem restless. Marcus has lived with his grandmother for the past four years. It’s no secret both his parents are in jail on drug charges, but he’s never done anything to indicate he’d be following in their footsteps. He isn’t what I’d call popular, but he wasn’t disliked either before this week. He doesn’t do drugs, doesn’t even drink. He has a few friends, but mostly keeps to himself and his painting. Until he started dating Gretchen, I doubt many people thought twice about his past. He just seemed like someone trying to do better for himself—a lot like me.
“Why don’t you head up to bed,” Dina says.
I nod. My head is spinning and it feels like ages since I left for school this morning. When I reach the top of the stairs, I peek in on my mom, who’s lying in the dark with her head under a pillow. Never a good sign. She hasn’t had a migraine this bad for months. She only gets them when she’s stressed. I close the door carefully and cross the hall to my own room.
I dump my backpack out on my bed, staring at the array of texts and notebooks, but I don’t open any of them. I go straight to my closet and sink to my knees, digging through the sneakers and winter boots beyond Zack & Ken until I unearth a small tin box. I’ve had it as long as we’ve lived here. It’s decorated with snowmen and I think it originally held some kind of holiday candy. Inside, I mostly keep mementos. A gaudy old pin that belonged to my grandmother; a ticket stub to the first concert Gretchen and I ever saw; my first driver’s permit. I sift carefully through the contents until I spot what I’m looking for—a mini SD card tucked in the corner. A pang of guilt shoots through me. It’s something the sheriff would love to see.
I retrieve my phone from my backpack, stick the small plastic rectangle into its slot, and search until I find the right video. Gretchen showed it to me a month ago, the day after she and Marcus broke up. But so much has happened since then, I might be remembering it wrong.
Because the way he looked at me just now . . . for a second it was like the past six months had never happened. It doesn’t make sense.