Page 66

Inside, the dinner bell rang. The other kids would be swarming to the table, fighting for the best seats. I didn’t want to go back in yet.

“Do you think you’ll remember me?” I blurted, cheeks burning.

He looked at me, really looked, and something in his eyes softened. “Yeah. I’ll remember you.”

I nodded, biting my lip. “Good.”

The door creaked open again and the 14-year-old girl, Hannah, peeked out. She saw us, hesitated, then quickly looked away, disappearing back inside. I wondered if she was scared of us, or just of being seen.

Milo stood up, brushing dust off his jeans. “Come on. Let’s go eat before they take all the good stuff.”

I followed him, still wrapped in his hoodie. I felt different. Lighter, almost. Like maybe, for a moment, the darkness wasn’t pressing in so hard.

We moved through the halls, shoulder to shoulder. Some of the kids stared, but I ignored them. They didn’t know us. They never would.

In the eating room, Derek glared from across the room, but didn’t come near us. Milo shot him a look and Derek turned away, muttering under his breath. I sat across from Milo at a corner table, picking at my food. He watched me, not in a creepy way, just making sure I was okay.

I pushed peas around my plate. “Do you miss your mom?” I asked, quietly.

His eyes went cold. “No. She’s gone.”

I nodded, understanding. “My mom’s gone too. I do miss her, though.”

He fiddled with his fork. “Moms leave. Dads…dads ruin everything.”

I snorted, a bitter laugh. “Yeah.”

We ate in silence, the hum of voices wrapping around us. Milo finished first, pushing his plate away. He always ate fast, like he was afraid someone would take it away. I ate slower, trying to make the moment last.

When I finished, we dumped our plates and slipped out the back door again.

Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in bruised colors. Milo leaned against the railing, arms crossed.

“You ever wish you could just run?” he asked.

“All the time,” I said.

He stared at the horizon. “Maybe someday, we will.”

I stood beside him, feeling the last of the sun on my face. For a moment, I believed him.

We didn’t talk much after that, just leaned against each other in the fading light. When I shivered, he put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I let him. I didn’t feel trapped. I felt safe.

When it was time to go back inside, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay in that moment forever, just the two of us, the world quiet and simple.

Milo squeezed my shoulder. “You’ll be okay, Starla. Even after I’m gone.”

I wanted to tell him I wouldn’t be. That I needed him. But I swallowed the words.

“Yeah,” I said, pretending to believe it.

We went back inside. The halls felt less haunted, somehow. Maybe it was Milo. Maybe it was just the hoodie, still warm from his body. I didn’t know.

That night, I lay in bed, listening to the creaks and whispers of the old building. I thought about Milo, about his bruises, about the monsters in his head and mine. I wondered if maybe, just maybe, we weren’t as broken as everyone thought.

I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel completely alone.

Milo was my light in the darkness. I hoped I could be his, even for a little while.