Page 62 of Sporty Girls Don't Fall For Loners

She shivers again. “Some of those images are a bit…ugh. I’m not a queasy person, but I don’t like thinking about other people in pain. How much they suffered before…”

I shift in my seat as my throat burns. Did Dad suffer? Is Mom still suffering? Is she trapped in some limbo world? Is she happy?

“Sorry if I’m talking too much,” she says. “I can be a bit blunt sometimes.”

I shake my head. “No, you’re good. I just have a lot on my mind.”

She looks at the screen for a few seconds. “Does this give you nightmares? Hearing about all these terrible murders?”

“No.” It’s the opposite. They make me more determined to catch the guy who killed Dad and hurt Mom.

“That’s good,” she says with a smile. “You know, my Aunt Kara—Coach Barrington’s wife—likes true crime, too. I never really understood it, but I think I’m getting it now. It’s like a detective show, but real life. More than that, really.”

“Yeah. I like detective shows, too. But my favorites are true crime.”

She watches me for a little bit.

“What?” I ask.

Her hands go to her hair. “N-nothing. Just…we’re talking. Like…we’re not ticking each other off.”

I lift a brow. “Didn’t think you could have a decent conversation with a messed-up kid?”

“You’re not messed up.”

I shrug. “I don’t have a home. I don’t have a family. I have nothing and no one.”

“That’s not true. You have my aunt and uncle. You have this home.”

I bang the back of my head against the couch. “Maybe, but I’ll be gone soon. Zack’s searching for a home for me and once he does, I’ll have to leave.” The thought makes my stomach squeeze together. I don’t want a new home. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. But I know that’s impossible.

“Oh, right,” she says. “He’ll find you a good place. He won’t just put you anywhere.”

I nod slowly. Yeah, I believe that. But it’s not so easy to find the perfect home for me.

Another episode starts and I’m a little surprised that Zoey is staying and not going up to her room. I tell myself she’s curious about the next case, but I wonder if she’s staying because of me. But that’s ridiculous. We might be getting friendly, but we’re still two strangers living under one roof.

I don’t realize I’m staring at her until she turns her head and our eyes connect. I quickly look away.

“This is more gruesome than the last one,” she says. “Wow.”

“We can watch something else?” I suggest, then I mentally scold myself. Why would I assume she’d want to watch something else with me?

She quickly shakes her head. “I’m good. I mean, unless you want to.”

Watching these shows reminds me of my parents and everything I lost. They sometimes put me in a sour but vengeful mood. And I don’t want to be that way around Zoey.

So I find another show to watch—about teen superheroes going to a school to learn how to use their powers.

“Looks cringey, but we can give it a try,” I tell her.

“Okay. Superheroes are cool. My brother loved them when he was younger. He still does, but he loves sharks more.”

“I didn’t know you have a brother.”

She’s quiet for a beat or two. “He’s fourteen and lives with my grandparents in Boston.”

I’m getting the vibe that she doesn’t want to talk about it, so I don’t press. Really, it’s none of my business. Same way I’d like others to respect my boundaries, I’ll respect hers.

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