Page 32 of Lost
Lysander wouldn’t mind, he knew. He’d seen the kid with a battered iPod in his hands, but he never seemed to listen to it. In fact, Zack had never heard music coming from his room at all. But Dakota was different. Zack knew that without a doubt. Nobody played the piano as passionately as she had in that video without a keen interest in music.
She would have wanted him to write about her.
Lyrics were not his forte, but he knew what Pat would say to that:try. But he didn’t want to try only to have himself fail, as he’d already failed the girl in every other aspect of her life. Until she was safely under his roof, he would always be a failure when it came to her.
And what if he really couldn’t do it? What if the words wouldn’t come to him?
But if he couldn’t do it, who would? He knew the rest of the band were more than capable, but this was something personal. This was something that he needed to do on his own. And he had a good idea of where he wanted to start.
He pulled out his phone and navigated himself to Dakota’s video.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I already know.”
Zack looked stunned, but also the tiniest bit relieved. From the moment he’d stepped into the kitchen Lysander had known there was something his father was fretting over, something that he didn’t want to bring up. For a moment he’d panicked — had something bad happened to Dakota? — but that feeling had quickly been replaced by the sense of discomfort that had found its home within him on Saturday morning.
“You already know?” Zack repeated.
Lysander nodded, silent as he finished off the last of his cereal. Zack was patient as he swallowed and took his bowl to the sink to be rinsed.
“I went for a run on Saturday morning,” he said as he turned on the tap, “and I ended up down at the beach. Some girl recognised me from the photos.”
He slipped the bowl into the dishwasher, the way he knew Georgia liked it, and turned back to face his father. The look on Zack’s face was no longer one of surprise. Now he wore a look of concern.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it wasn’t a big deal.”
Zack clearly disagreed. Lysander raised an eyebrow. He didn’t see the need to voice the question — it was already there, lingering in the air between them.
“Lysander...” Zack nibbled on his lower lip. He had a habit of doing that. “Some of the band’s fans can get...” He paused for a moment, searching for the right word. “Fanatic. I’ve seen them do some pretty crazy things to get our attention, so just...be careful, okay? If you meet somebody and things start getting out of hand—”
“I’ll call you,” Lysander cut the man off. “Or I’ll run. I’m pretty good at that.” Seeing Zack about to argue, he said, “Really. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Any other incidents I should know about?”
“No. Nothing.” Lysander raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I go to school now?”
Zack frowned, looking a tad wary, but he nodded all the same — as Lysander knew he would. The man could hardly prevent him from going to classes, after all.
Besides, Lysander was already well aware of what some ofNeedless Desire’sfans were capable of. He’d been to those shows with Dakota; he’d heard the stories that she had found on the Internet. It was part of the reason that he hadn’t wanted them knowing of his existence in the first place.
But he found comfort in one thing that girl had said to him:I had no idea you were in California!The die-hards may have known he existed, but Dakota’s profile placed him back in Columbus. As long as word didn’t get out that he was in California — and really, who was going to believe the word ofoneteenage fan? — he felt secure.
He swiped his schoolbag up off the floor and swung it over his shoulder.
“You want a lift?” Zack asked him suddenly. “I’m heading in that direction.”
“Got practice?”
“Yep. Wouldn’t be up this early otherwise.”
Lysander found that easy to believe. What he wasn’t sold on was that the only reason Zack was offering him a ride was because he was already going that way himself. But there was nothing wrong with humouring the man for a morning.
“Sure. That’d be great.”
They called their farewells to Georgia, upstairs getting ready for her own day. She left the bathroom momentarily, her make-up only half done, to wish them both a good day and blow her husband a kiss goodbye. He caught it with a wink and grabbed his keys from the table. So normal, Lysander mused, following his father out the door.
