Page 13 of Saving Sparrow
I went with something simpler but equally important. “No more sedation.” I recalled waking a handful of times in the two weeks he claimed I’d been here, and only in short spurts. I thought about the taste filling my mouth when I woke up, and the cloudiness in my head. I stared at the plastic tubing dangling from the bags hooked to the IV pole. “You can tie me down if you need to, just please… I can’t lose any more time.”
Sparrow’s jaw worked. He’d tended to my wounds and physical pain, bathed me, nursed me back to life. I had leverage now, and it killed him.
“Promise me.”
Sparrow’s nod was so subtle I thought I’d imagined it. “What’s your real name?” he asked.
“Miguel Ramirez,” I answered, knowing from here on out he would accept nothing but the truth.
“Ramirez,” he mused as if it rang a bell. I remembered the chest in the closet and the wallet inside. He seemed even more curious now.
When Sparrow spoke again, his words held both contempt and a vulnerability I knew he’d later make me pay for. “Start from the beginning,” he demanded.
Miguel
Then
“I told you they were back here,idiota.” I crossed my arms, watching Quentin sprint across the backyard for his lucky cleats. He’d been running drills back here yesterday and removed them to chase me into the house after having enough of me teasing him about his “tight end.”
“Now we’re going to be late to camp, you’ll end up in a bad mood when Coach Saxton calls you out for it, and then I’m the one who’ll have to pay for it later.”
“First off,” he said, jogging over, “did you just call me an idiot? And second,”—He ruffled my floppy hair—“you love my bad moods.”
I rolled my eyes, shoving his hand away. “Let’s go.”
“Hey, at least tell me what you just called me,” he shouted as I headed for the front of the house.
“Nope, you’ll have to figure it out yourself.”
“I’m pretty sure it was idiot,” he grumbled, making me grin.
Something snapped behind us, and we turned at the sound. I scanned the trees beyond the edge of the backyard but couldn’t make anything out. Quentin and I frowned at each other, then seemed to come to the same conclusion before hurrying into the woods.
“Hey!” Quentin shouted at Elliott’s retreating back. He froze but didn’t turn around.
“Where have you been?” I asked softly, my voice echoing around us. Not a day passed in the week since we first met him that we hadn’t raced to the old Lenox House hoping for just a glimpse of him. “The pool got filled yesterday, and we saw the movers bringing furniture in. Thepainters finally left too. Figured maybe you and your aunt decided to stay at a friend’s place or something until everything was set up.”
He turned then. “We don’t have friends.” Elliott’s tone was even sadder than the last time we spoke to him. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his house, and this odd fear of losing him filled my chest. Quentin and I took a step closer to him at the same time. Had he felt it too?
“We can be your friends,” Quentin said, and I’d never wanted to hug him as much as I did then. Elliott still seemed ready to run from us, though. Had Quentin come on too strong? He could be intimidating.
“Yeah,” I agreed lightly, trying to balance out Quentin’s rough tone. “We can be your friends.”
Elliott was wearing jeans today and tugged at the collar of his T-shirt like he was uncomfortable in it. I liked him better in his dress. “You don’t even know me.” The sun cut through the tree canopy right on top of him, making his eyes twinkle.
“Well, that’s kind of the point.” Quentin chuckled, checking the time on his phone. “Shit, Coach is gonna kill me. We gotta go.” Neither of us moved. We stood there locked in a staring contest with Elliott.
“Quentin’s gotta attend prospect camp today. He thinks he’s the star of his football team—of all teams ever created and combined,” I said dryly. “He thinks all the college scouts will be there just for him, so I have to go sit and watch him show off his ‘skills.’”
“Hey, I am the star,” he said in offense, “and who the heck else would they be there for?”
I smiled up at him, getting caught up for a second in how cute his freckles looked in the sunlight.
“So, wanna come?” I asked Elliott. “We can grab pizza after.”
Elliott glanced over his shoulder again.
“Do you need to ask your aunt first? We can wait if you make it quick.”
