Page 134 of The Addict

He chuckled. “Bored, never. Tired, maybe.”

“Are you not sleeping well?” I asked, concerned. The injury under his eyes was healing nicely, but he still seemed off. I could tell he wasn’t feeling well, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was bothering him. He was an enigma.

“You could say that.”

“You usually text me over the weekend,” I said, and almost felt embarrassed that I did. “Were you feeling sick?”

“Ah, no. Damian cut off my phone line.”

My eyes widened. “Oh.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just get a new one with the same number. It’s a hassle, but nothing major.”

“What did you do?” I joked.

“Staying out past curfew, I guess,” he said with a chuckle. “But enough about me, how’s everything going at home? Did your parents get back? I remember you told me you were expecting to hear from them.”

I took my English homework and pencil out of my bag, nervously strumming my fingers against the eraser. I was surprised that he had even remembered such a small detail. It was crazy to think, but no, I hadn’t heard from my parents in a while. My family always raised me to be very independent, so I didn’t usually mind staying by myself for extended periods of time. I knew how to care for the household, I could drive and get to school. I did part time work study at my campus, and I took care of myself financially for the most part. I didn’t have a ton of money, but I could fend for myself and pay my own bills. On the other hand, my parents never fell back on a promise. They assured me that we would communicate constantly during their absence. But they simply stopped sending me messages, and I was extremely worried about them. I was at the point that I considered reaching out to my aunt out of state, but I didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic and upset them. My parents were clear that we handled our own issues within our family unit, never bringing in outside drama.

“No, it’s been silence on their end,” I said with a sway of my head, trying not to let Noah see exactly how unnerved his question made me feel.

“Shit, I wish my household was like that,” he joked, clearly missing my unease. “I can’t get them to shut up or leave me alone.”

I let out an awkward laugh. “Are we studying?” I asked, eager to switch topics.

He sighed. “Yeah, you got extra paper?”

I glanced at him and realized he didn’t even have his bag with him today.

“Sure,” I mumbled, ripping some from my journal and passing it over.

He smiled and stared at me, waiting.

“Well, do you need a pencil too?” I asked, floored at how he was able to survive entire school day without supplies.

“Oh yeah,” he exclaimed with a little nod, “Definitely need that.”

I handed him a pencil and glanced at my journal notes. “So the argumentative essay right? Was she having you write a formal essay or correspondence?”

“A what?”

“A letter.”

“Oh, no. Just the essay.”

“Okay, so when you look at the checklist here, you have to make sure that you start with a strong thesis statement. That’s like the foundation of a strong paper.”

“Okay.”

“You give two to three points that guide the entire paper, so these will basically be your topic sentences in your body paragraphs.”

“Uh-huh.”

“From there you’ll want to make sure that you use one of the body paragraphs to include a concession and rebuttal, because that ensures you have no bias in your argument.”

“Right.”

I looked up at him from the checklist. He was staring at me with a quirky little grin on his face. There wasn’t a single thing on his paper.