The Lost Boys

  “Yeah. Okay. So … I guess I’ll see you around, Miss … I mean, Joey,” he said, nodding, “If you have some free time during the week and want to pass by, I’m usually around here.”

  “Okay. So, see you around,” I replied, and before I could extend my hand for a goodbye shake, he turned fast and walked away. Oh my God! He was so weird! Then I remembered his germ phobia problem. Right. It had slipped my mind. No handshakes with him, Joey!

  When I got home, my mom was in the kitchen, making dinner.

  “Hey, Mom. This smells really good!” I said, rubbing my tummy. I was really hungry.

  “Hey, munchkin, you’re back!” she greeted me. “Dinner will be done in a minute. What have you been doing all afternoon?”

  “I was just hanging with a friend,” I told her casually.

  “A new friend already?” she said, beaming happily. “That was fast! Is it a boyfriend, or a girlfriend?”

  “It’s a boy, but not a boyfriend. Just a boy who happens to be a friend,” I corrected her. I knew how my mother’s mind worked. I wasn’t falling into that trap!

  “Hey, who knows what the future holds! He might become more than just a friend, eh?”

  Oh, good God! Here we go again. My mom was always trying to hook me up. Most moms tried their best to lock their daughters away from boys, up in high towers with guards and dragons at the front doors, but not my mom. I think she was trying to re-live her dating times through me … and since I rarely dated at all, she was at a loss. She’d been ecstatic when I’d brought my first – and only – boyfriend over for a dinner, back in our old town. I only recalled that it had been one hell of an embarrassing evening.

  “Is he the ‘pretty kind’ of boy that happens to be just a friend?” she asked teasingly while fumbling with the stove.

  I thought about Tristan and his bright gray eyes, his eerily pale face, his big chest, athletic body and broad shoulders. And that smile … my cheeks instantly turned red all over. Mom observed my reaction from the other side of the counter with amusement.

  “That good looking, huh?” She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

  I coughed and gave her a glare. “Let’s just say he’s easy on the eye. But we’re just friends, Mom. So quit it!” I warned her.

  “All right! All right! I give up. If you want to sulk and be alone for the rest of your days, it’s your choice. No boy is ever good enough for you!” She scowled.

  I grunted under my breath and she shook her head, giving up on the topic.

  “So, Joey, I just received a welcome folder from Principal Smith at Sagan Boarding School!” she said, her face lighting up at the thought.

  “Sagan?” I asked, at a loss.

  “Yes! Your new school! Remember we talked about it as an option? You going to study there the rest of the year? It’s a boarding school, actually, but it’s not too far away. Only a couple of hours’ drive. You’ll get to sleep in dorm rooms with friends, just like in Hogwarts in Harry Potter!” she exclaimed, all excited now.

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, my Harry Potter phase is so over.” Was not. I still love you, Harry! “I told you I wanted to study at a boarding school like that two years ago! That was a lifetime ago!”

  She chuckled, shaking her head. “A lifetime! Don’t be silly. Anyway, now that I have this important new job, thank you very much,” she said, bowing, “I managed to get you in! It’s the best school in the state, and now I can afford to send you there!”

  “But … what about you? You’ll be here all alone!” I cried out.

  “Oh, I can handle being alone, Joey. I’m a big girl. You know I want the best for you, and this is the best. And it’s not like you won’t be able to visit every weekend,” she remarked cheekily.

  In truth, I was really excited by Sagan; the brochure was amazing. Mom and I talked about it over dinner and I went to bed happy. And then I thought about Tristan. Maybe tomorrow I could stop by the cemetery and tell him about my new school. It was exciting news! And I still really wanted to experience life at a boarding school. Although I felt a little sad because I wouldn’t be able to see him any more after school started. That kind of sucked.

  Before I drifted into sleep that night, I thought about how odd it was being sad at the idea of not seeing someone I’d just met two days ago, someone I barely knew. Tristan had made such a big impact on my life already.

  Chapter Four

  A Special Gift

  The rest of the week passed really fast.

  Christmas Eve was right around the corner, on Friday, to be precise. My mother spent most of her time during the week adjusting to her new job and making preparations for our first Christmas in our new home. I went to see Tristan at the cemetery almost every day that week. Some days, when it was snowing, I just stopped by to say a quick hello; some days, when the weather was good, I stayed the whole afternoon, hanging out with him. Our favorite place to hang was a lawn circle in the centre of the cemetery. Somehow we always ended our walks at that spot.

  It seemed that Tristan was always in the cemetery, every day, at any hour. And he always had a knack of finding me, no matter where I was. I didn’t know how he did it. I asked him about it one day.

  “The ghosts around here always tell me if you have arrived and where you are!” he said jokingly, and then he laughed out loud at my slightly scared face. I glanced around worriedly and crossed my arms protectively over my chest. The wind suddenly seemed colder, somehow.

  “You shouldn’t make jokes about ghosts here, Tristan! It’s not funny,” I warned him.

  He raised a suspicious eyebrow, smirking at me. “What, afraid of ghosts, are we?” he teased.

  “No,” I mumbled. “Just want to keep a healthy distance, that’s all.”

  He laughed at my polite way of saying I was indeed very much afraid of ghosts. “Well, there’s no reason to be afraid of ghosts, sweetheart,” he said with another of his amazing smiles I was learning to cherish so much. “And I guarantee you, my lovely Joe, that I’ll never let any ghost in here ever harm you! You have my word. So you needn’t worry,” he said, chuckling at my distressed face.

  My nerves were so jittery as a consequence of this conversation that I got up from our lawn without looking where I was going and tripped over a cracked pavement stone. I ended up sprawled across the cold dusty ground. I patted my dirty jeans, embarrassed as hell.

  Tristan sped over to me, looking really worried. “Joe, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. A little embarrassed, but fine,” I said, slapping the palm of my hands against my pants. Once again, I was all dirty. What a klutz!

  I glanced up, waiting for him to offer a hand to help me stand up, like any normal person would. Guilt and remorse crossed his eyes in a heartbeat. It passed in the blink of an eye, to be replaced by a smirking remark. “Come on, Gray! Are you going to stay there all day? Don’t be so soft! Let’s get going!” he said, walking away without waiting for a reply.

  I frowned. It wasn’t like I was expecting the damsel in distress treatment here; I knew how to take care of myself without any male assistance, thank you very much. But that was just … plain rude! I lay there, annoyed, for a bit before I finally stood up.

  He was so bipolar, one day telling me I’m extraordinary, the next acting like this huge jerk! I felt so irritated by the incident that after a while I told him I had an important appointment and needed to go. I think he knew why I was leaving so soon. He knew it had something to do with that tripping incident and how rude he had been to me, because he looked profoundly sad and ashamed as he watched me leave. I was so upset that I didn’t care how he looked. He was the one being rude. Not the other way round!

  That had happened on Thursday. I mulled it over the rest of the day in my room, and by night I decided I had overreacted. So the next day, Christmas Eve, I went back to the cemetery to apologize for having left in a huff. I felt like I needed to do this, though I also knew I hadn’t really done anything wrong.

  I walked for
half an hour and couldn’t find Tristan. It was the first time I’d been there without finding him. The place didn’t feel the same without him around. I couldn’t help but think he was avoiding me now. After a while, I gave up looking for him and left. I walked back home in a gloomy mood and remained like that the whole day.

  Saturday was Christmas Day. I stayed home during the day, helping my mom prepare our meal. We exchanged gifts after dinner, and that was about it for Christmas for the little Gray family party of two. I liked the holidays mostly because of the special meal deal, but my mom and I didn’t care much about religious stuff. We could barely call ourselves Catholics. For years now we hadn’t even celebrated at all, just stayed together and watched old movies, and that was usually that for the night’s celebration.

  This year, Mom had put extra effort into dinner, though, because she wanted to make it memorable: our first year in a new town, and I would be going off to school, too. Plus, she was happy about the fancy job and fat bank account (first time in many, many years). She had a lot to celebrate!

  All the talk of celebrating made me think of Tristan, and I was really sad we’d ended our last meeting in such a bad way. I was watching my mom heading upstairs to get ready for her bath when I had this crazy idea of a good way to make up with Tristan. I glanced at the clock. It was still early, nine in the evening. I thought I could make it there and back again in twenty minutes. Mom takes these freakishly long baths. Twenty minutes was all I needed!

  I ran upstairs to my room and fumbled through some boxes, trying to find the one with the Gray’s memorabilia. And there it was! My box of old photograph albums. I grabbed the oldest one – it held my favorite photos – and flipped fast through the pages. I knew exactly what I was looking for. I found it, took it out of the album and ran back downstairs. In the living room I carefully wrote a note on the back of the photograph. Then I heard the bathroom door closing upstairs. Okay, time to run! I put on my sweater and sneaked out of the house as soon as I heard the bath water running.

  I ran as fast as I could and in five minutes I was at the cemetery gates. Strangely, it stayed open until eleven, so I had plenty of time. I ran inside, counting my steps and retracing the path I had memorized during the week. I tried not to think about how creepy the cemetery looked at night, concentrating only on finding the path to Tristan’s mossy tomb. He liked hanging out there, so he was bound to find my gift sooner or later.

  I reached it in two minutes. I looked at the photograph in my hands. It was the photo taken of me while I was working at the circus, back in my old town three years ago. I was fourteen then, and was surrounded by a group of clowns, ballerinas and other circus people, holding my red balloons and beaming at the camera. I turned the photo over to check my note. On the back, in neat letters, I had written:

  Tristan,

  Remember,

  Life is always full of possibilities.

  Merry Xmas.

  Joey.

  I smiled, satisfied, and put the photo on top of the tomb, with a stone over it so the wind wouldn’t take it away. And then I ran as fast as I could out of there! In another five minutes I was back home, a little breathless but safe and sound. And most importantly, not caught. My mom was still having her bath, unaware of my little nocturnal escapade.

  I slouched on the couch, turned the TV on and flipped through the channels, happy with my late-night mischief. I hoped Tristan would like my gift. I fell asleep on the couch and dreamed about contortionists, ballerinas and clowns. And red balloons floating up to the sky.

  Chapter Five

  Promise

  I passed Sunday finally unpacking the rest of my things. My mom had given me a deadline. It was to be done on Sunday, “Or else …” followed by The Look. You don’t want to mess with The Look, I tell you. So I didn’t dare go out and check on Tristan.

  Monday I woke up in a cheerful mood. As I munched my breakfast, Mom bounced into the kitchen with good news: I had been officially accepted at Sagan Boarding School! I still had a week to spend with my mom until after New Year’s, and then I would need to start packing (again).

  I hoped the kids wouldn’t be too snobby. I hated spoiled, rude, rich people! Mom was very excited, reminding me about all the activities they had there. I wasn’t listening, though; my mind kept wandering back to Tristan’s face. So I left for a morning “walk”. My mom was happy that I was out of the house so much, having healthy walks and exercising. She wouldn’t be so happy, though, if she knew where I was doing all the exercise.

  I watched as the cemetery gates loomed before me, and once again I darted inside as I’d been doing most days, taking the path to Tristan’s mossy tomb. I didn’t need to wait for him. He was already there, sitting at the top and swinging his long legs up and down as before. Before I could greet him, he turned his handsome face in my direction and smiled his amazing bright smile to me. It made my heart flutter.

  “Hey, Gray!” he shouted at me.

  “Hey, Tris! So, did you find my Christmas gift?” I asked in a rush, all excited. I was dying to hear what he thought of it. He jumped off the tomb with his usual ease.

  “Yes, I did! Yesterday,” he said happily. And then his face turned sad. “I feel really bad because I don’t have anything to give you …”

  I waved my hands at him. “That’s okay, I don’t mind. I just thought you’d like seeing that photo. It was kind of a lame present anyways,” I mumbled, embarrassed.

  He walked closer, his piercing silver gaze on me. I had missed his eyes. “It wasn’t ‘lame’, whatever that means. It was the best present ever. Thank you, Joey,” he said, smiling kindly. “It was very sweet of you to think of me.”

  “You’re w-welcome,” I stuttered, blushing.

  “Come sit with me,” he said, walking towards a stone bench a few meters away. “When did you come by to bring the photo? I didn’t see you yesterday, or Saturday …”

  “I came by Saturday night. It was Christmas Day so I had to come later, a little before closing time,” I replied.

  “You came at night? Weren’t you afraid?” he asked, astonished.

  I stared at him in confusion. Afraid of what? Dropping a picture by?

  “Afraid of coming to a cemetery, alone, in the middle of the night!” he said, completing his sentence as he saw my confused expression.

  “Ah. Right,” I mumbled. Then I remembered the ghosts. Well, now that I was thinking about it, I probably should have been afraid … “I don’t know. I just wasn’t. Or not much. I don’t get scared easily. I guess I act a lot like a boy sometimes. It’s the curse of ‘The Name’,” I said, miming air quotes and making him laugh. We sat on the bench and I turned to look at him. “I came by Friday to talk to you, too. I didn’t see you around.”

  He frowned, as if trying to remember what he’d been doing on Friday, and then a memory seemed to jolt him. “Ah, yeah, an old friend came to see me on Friday. I lost track of time talking to him. He has the most amazing stories … Sometimes I think he’s half-mad. The things he says …” Tristan mused, chuckling. But then he turned thoughtful for a moment. “I wish some of the things really were true, though.”

  “Which things?” I asked curiously.

  Tristan shook his head, dismissing the topic. “Nothing, really. A bunch of nonsense about magic and old spells; the crazy ramblings of an old man. But never mind him. He was probably making most of that stuff up, anyway. I’m glad we didn’t miss each other today!” he said, happy now.

  “Do you really come here every day, Tris?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’m here every day,” he answered plainly.

  “I know why. I’ve thought about it these past few days and figured it out,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He looked startled and I watched as fear and apprehension shifted in his eyes.

  “You work here!” I said. “You must work at the funeral home in the back of the graveyard! That explains why you have to be here all the time, and the somber clothes, and al
l.” I stated my discovery proudly.

  It actually explained a lot. It also explained his “touching” phobia: seeing dead people all the time must freak out any living person. I wouldn’t want to go near anyone after seeing cadavers all day long! Just thinking about it made me shiver.

  I glanced over at him. He looked relieved, and then embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry, Joey. I-I thought you would freak out if you knew the truth. You must think I’m a total loser, having this weird job, and all,” he muttered, avoiding looking at me.

  “That’s silly. I just wish you had told me. I don’t care, it’s just a job,” I said sincerely.

  The weather was really bad. The wind blew by us, making me shiver. I zipped up my heavy coat and hunched my shoulders.

  “Joe, I need to ask you something,” he said uncertainly.

  “Ask away,” I said.

  “Do you … do you really think that? What you wrote on the back of your photo? Do you honestly believe in that?”

  I paused and thought about what I’d written. Remember. Life is full of possibilities. I smiled. “Yeah, of course, Tris. Don’t you?”

  “I’m starting to,” he said quietly. But when he glanced at me, he looked trapped, as if stuck within a life without any possibilities at all.

  “Come on, your life can’t be that bad!” I said, trying to cheer him up.

  He blinked at me, startled, and averted his eyes, clearing his throat uneasily. “So, are you excited about going to your new school?” he asked, changing the subject drastically. I guess he didn’t want to talk about himself any more.

  “Yeah. I just got the formal admittance letter. I’ve never been to a boarding school before. I think it’s going to be fun,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, but the thought of leaving actually wasn’t so bright right now.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “A couple of days after New Year.”

  He seemed sad for an instant, but then he brightened up. “Really? So you’ll still be here at New Year’s?”