Page 24 of Saving Sparrow
“Why not?”
Elliott shrugged, the strap falling off his shoulder again. “There must be a good reason I can’t remember some things.” He stood, carrying his book back to its shelf.
“Take it with you,” I said, getting to my feet.
“Why?”
“Because then you’ll have to bring it back.”
Elliott thought about that before deciding to leave the book behind. “I wouldn’t want something to happen to it.”
I knew it was a lie, but I let it go.
“Will you be in the woods tomorrow?”
He frowned. “Why do you care?” He didn’t say it in a mean way, more like he really didn’t get why I cared.
“Who else is gonna buddy read with me?” I grinned. I’d ordered a second set of theThrone of Glassseries so we could get through them together.
Elliott smiled shyly, making me feel like I’d just slain a dragon for him. “Maybe”—he hesitated before continuing—“maybe I’ll come straight here instead.”
“Yeah, sure! Whatever you want.” I cleared my throat and then said more casually, “I mean, sure, if you want. But we don’t mind finding you.” Quentin and I enjoyed our little scavenger hunts. A little too much, actually.
Elliott still stood next to the tall bookcase. I walked to the other end of it, reaching up to slip my book back into its slot. He sucked in a breath,staring at the bruised patch of skin along my side. I shoved the book in, then fixed the hem of my T-shirt back into place.
“Um, me and Quentin wrestle around sometimes. He doesn’t know his own strength. It looks worse than it is.”
Elliott nodded, but I didn’t miss the flash of judgment in his eyes. It was the first time he’d ever given me that look.
My thoughts went to Quentin, all alone in the backyard running drills because he felt unwanted. I didn’t like him feeling that way, but it seemed to be taking Elliott longer to warm up to him. I’d told Quentin to give him time, but what if that wasn’t enough?
“Wait here a sec. I want to show you something.” I jogged into the closet, pulling a photo from my top drawer before returning and handing it to Elliott.
“That’s your mother,” he said, bringing the picture in close.
“What gave it away?”
“You look just like her.” He glanced between me and the photo. “Your hair is shorter, but it’s the same dark color and sort of flops all over the place. You have her muddy-brown eyes, too, and tanned skin.”
“No one’s ever called my eyes muddy before.” I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose self-consciously, surprised at how much I liked hearing him describe me. I guess because he held so much in, gave so little away. He spoke freely now, like this was the one thing he didn’t have to be careful about.
“It’s the first thing I thought of when I saw you. They remind me of the earth. Natural and warm.” Elliott inspected us both again. “She’s pretty.”
I wanted to ask if that made me pretty too, but I didn’t want to be caught fishing for a compliment. Besides, I knew my looks didn’t classify as pretty. Not like Elliott’s did. Quentin always said I was masculinely cute, whatever that meant. Probably boyishly nerdy, or something similar.
“Why’d you show this to me?” Elliott handed it back, and I stared down at my mother, wondering where to start and how much to tell. For Quentin, it had to be done, though. I wanted Elliott to see him differently, or to see him at all. I wanted him to understand us, to understand we were a package deal.
“Quentin blames himself for her dying—not because he caused it, but because he couldn’t stop it.” I shook my head when his gaze asked me to explain. I couldn’t do it right then.
“It made us closer, if that were even possible. Maybe it just made us closer in adifferentway.” It was no secret that Quentin and I were codependent. Anyone with a brain could pick up on that within seconds of being around us.
“He’s scared of losing me because he’s lost so much already. It makes him hold on to what he has left even tighter. It’s why we spend most of our time trapped in here.” I waved a hand around our bedroom. “But I need him just as much because the only other person I’ve ever loved is gone. I know I should probably tell him he doesn’t need to feel that way, that he won’t ever lose me. The truth is, I like that he treats me like something he can’t stand to lose because I can’t lose him either. This is a big world, Elliott, and he’s the only person left in it who cares about me.” I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have no one who cared about me. I didn’t want to imagine it. “I need to be cared about, and Quentin needs to be all I have.” Our insecurities worked perfectly together, and maybe it wasn’t healthy, but it was what we wanted. “He likes you, though. The fact that he’s out there while we’re in here proves it. He wants to be your friend.”
Our bedroom faced the far end of the backyard. Quentin’s grunts and curses could be heard through the closed window. I moved to his side of the bed, watching him through the glass. Elliott followed, the train on the dress he wore swooshing behind him.
Quentin tossed his helmet onto the grass, then began kicking over the tackling dummies littering the yard. Elliott and I watched him, although for different reasons.
“Why is he angry?”
