Page 10 of Lost
Now they just had the rest of their lives to get through.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lysander’s new room was bigger than he expected.
Back home a single bed had taken up half of his bedroom. Here in California, he had a king-size that took up little more than that. He had more furniture than he knew what to do with and an expensive looking rug that he was afraid to walk on, so much that he’d removed his shoes and tip-toed across it to get to the bed each night. The walls were painted a pale blue, the rug was a deep navy, and the wide window was decked with a pair of heavy velvet curtains in sapphire. They had remained parted since Lysander had moved into the room and discovered that it faced west — the view of the sunset over the beach a few blocks away too good to ever pass up. Two days in a row he’d already watched it, and he was quite looking forward to the third. He could happily sit and stare at it for the rest of his life.
Unfortunately, it was Monday, and even in California that meant school.
He didn’t want to go. He hadn’t been to a class in two weeks now, too busy making arrangements for his mother’s funeral and trying to convince the police that his sister was more than just a runaway and dealing with Mrs. Corte’s Jekyll and Hyde act. He wanted to be at the house, making sure Zack didn’t go back on his word, preparing for the inevitable moment when Dakota would be found. He should have packed some things for her, too. He could have been arranging for it today if he’d been given the time. Instead, Zack was forcing him to play normal teenager. To pretend like everything was fine. To get back into routine and go to school.
At least here nobody would know about his mother.
Zack walked him to Mapleton Beach High that morning, and all Lysander could think about was how amusing Dakota would have found it. Where was the personal driver? The car with windows tinted so dark nobody would ever see through them? Who was this man who was willing to walk the streets like a commoner, and not the rock royalty Dakota had painted him out to be? Lysander hadn’t shared those same crazy thoughts, but he definitely hadn’t expected this. Dakota had made it sound like the man was swarmed by crazy fangirls the second he left his house. But Zack was so…normal.
He’d even said, “Have a good day, kid!” before dropping him off and starting his walk back home.
It was odd to go to a school where he didn’t know a single person. Thanks to Dakota, he’d never had to do it. She’d always been somewhere close by, even if it wasn’t in the same room, and only now did he realise what a comfort that had been. But now he was alone in the sea of students, left to find his way in a world where everybody already had their place. He’d never missed Columbus High so much. He wanted that familiarity back. He wanted his old friends.
The only time he’d started a new school had been the transitions between elementary to middle to high school, on schedule with the rest of his classmates. But it was mid-March now and he was the only new kid, and more than a few people were staring as he navigated the halls. He kept his head high as he made his way between classes, trying not to let it bother him. The novelty would pass. At least people were leaving him alone.
He used the map he’d been provided rather than ask for directions. Another thing Dakota would have laughed at.Typical guy, she’d say. But a change of setting wasn’t going to change who he was.
Even if it meant being late to a lot of classes.
He was the last one to arrive to his new English class. Most of the kids had their heads bent low and were furiously writing by then, though a few looked up as he entered the room. The teacher, a bottle-blonde with square glasses perched on the end of her nose, was quick to beckon him over, gesturing for him to be quiet. She looked to be in her early forties, and the sleek grey suit that she wore made her look overly professional. She held out a sheet of lined paper to him.
“Ms. Lowe. It’s nice to meet you. Now, this is free writing time,” she explained quietly. “For the next ten minutes, I want you to put pen to paper and just write. If you can’t think of anything, write about your day. If you get stuck, keep repeating the last word until you think of something more. Go on.”
Lysander made his way further into the room and took the first empty seat he found, conscious of every noise he made. Just setting his bag down sounded like a car crash compared to the frenzied scribbling of pens around him.
He extracted a pen from his bag as quietly as he could. What was he supposed to write? A glance around the room showed every other student working, and he grimaced. Write about his day, the teacher had said. But his day so far hadn’t been interesting. A morning of sitting in the office with Zack, a couple of boring classes, a trip to the bathroom…
His weekend, on the other hand...
I just met my father for the first time,he wrote.I never thought it would actually happen, especially not like this. I’m not sure what to think. So far he seems nice, and he’s helping with Dakota — and that’s the only thing that matters, so I guess I can’t complain. He’s nothing like I thought he would be. I came here expecting a stuck-up alcoholic but instead got somebody responsible and...friendly. I guess it’s true when they say never judge a book by its cover.
He felt like a girl writing in her diary. His friends would have laughed. Dakota would have, too.
I miss my sister,he went on.It’s almost been a month now and there hasn’t been any news. How hard could it be to have a cop follow Alfonso for a week and watch him? It would solve all of our damn problems. I doubt they’ve even checked his house. They’re all convinced that they know my own sister better than I do. Idiots. But Zack’s on the case now. He’ll have her found. I know he will.
Right as he finished the last word, the teacher called that time was up. The majority of the class dropped their pens at once, letting out sighs of relief or complaining loudly that their hands were beginning to cramp. The teacher rolled her eyes as she moved from desk to desk, collecting the papers from her students. Lysander looked down at his with a stab of panic. He hadn’t realised that anybody would be reading it. Had the school already told his teachers about his situation? What if she read his paper out to the rest of his class? That was definitely not how he wanted his first day to go. But before he’d had a chance to protest, the wavy-haired blonde had taken the paper from him.
“All right.” She dropped the pile onto her desk and turned to face the class. Lysander eyed it warily. “Into your groups. Everybody should have finished the book by now, no excuses. I want every group to have a list of themes they think were in the text. You have five minutes.”
The students moved as one, gathering into groups of three or four. Lysander remained right where he was, unsure of what to do. He didn’t even know what book the class had been reading.
“You can sit with us.”
Lysander turned.
He was greeted by a stereotype. The boy looked exactly how Lysander would have described a California native before moving to the state: sun-bleached hair, sun-kissed skin, and a corded necklace that dropped below his shirt. His smile looked genuine though, and he was the only one who bothered to offer, so Lysander nodded his thanks and scooted his chair closer to the group.
A girl was making herself comfortable on the boy’s other side, her dark hair and make-up worn so similar to Dakota’s that Lysander had to double take. The third member of their group was beside her — another boy, who sat with his chair as far from the desk as he could without appearing to not be a part of their group. It was more than clear he didn’t want to be there. He leaned back as far as possible and let his shaggy brown hair fall across his face.
“Jack Avery,” the first boy introduced himself, offering a hand that Lysander shook. “This is Eliza Beth Jenkins and George Moore.”
“Lysander Maverick.”
