Page 43 of Saving Sparrow
Miguel had kind eyes and a friendly voice. Quentin’s voice boomed like thunder. Miguel was thoughtful and smart, a gentle wave approaching the shore. Quentin was an intimidating ball of energy, a riptide that pulled you farther out to sea.
I needed both, and I wanted to accept the friendship they offered. Most days I did, but it didn’t come easily. It came with a lot of guilt.
How could I be their friend without letting them know who I really was? But how did I tell them who I was when so much of me wasmissing? Would they understand the parts they didn’t know? Or would they look at me differently? Would their eyes still light up, or would they turn their backs on me?
“You’ve always been so fragile.”
My mother was right. My nightly prayers never included asking for the strength to protect myself. I used to pray for someone to come save me, to protect me.
“Tell them nothing,” I whispered. But what if I could? Maybe I could give them just enough to make them not so curious about my past anymore, before leaving it behind for good.
Back in the closet, I dumped everything out of the bottom drawer again to get to the envelope. I held it between my hands, hesitating for only a second before ripping it into tiny pieces.
I glanced down at the dress, wondering if I should destroy it too, but that wasn’t the part of me I wanted to forget. It was the only part that felt right, as much as it felt wrong. I took it off and tucked it under my mattress again.
It was dinnertime now, but my stomach was in knots, making it impossible to eat. I decided to shower and then finish the book Miguel and I had started a few days ago.
My phone screen lit up with an incoming text message as soon as I got into bed with the book. It came from the group chat Miguel had created.
Miguel:Are you okay?
Another text came through right after that one.
Miguel:Do you need us to come over?
Quentin’s impatient text filled the screen next.
Quentin:We’re coming over right now!
Miguel:No, we’re not. Ignore him.
Miguel:Or should we? Just let us know you’re okay.
The messages came through in rapid fire, and my thumb hovered over the keyboard as I dealt with the reminder they really did care about me.
Me:I’m fine. Still want to be alone. See you tomorrow.
Three dots appeared on the screen, and I bit down on my fingernail as the seconds ticked by. Were they going to say they were coming over anyway? Or maybe this would be the moment they gave up on me. The dots were replaced by a thumbs-up emoji from Quentin, and I instantlyknew Miguel had somehow stopped him from sending whatever he’d been typing.
Miguel:We understand. Goodnight.
I tried to read, but three chapters in and I couldn’t recall anything I’d just read. I set the book aside and turned off my lamp, deciding to go to sleep.
A couple hours passed, and I still hadn’t fallen asleep. My body was exhausted, my eyelids were heavy, but my mind couldn’t stop thinking. I’d tossed and turned so much that my sheets had popped off the bottom corners of the mattress.
Frustrated, I rolled onto my back and huffed out a breath. I’d told them I was fine, said I wanted to be alone. “I’m not fine,” I admitted to myself in the darkened room, and I didn’t want to be alone.
I jumped out of bed and slipped on my shoes, grabbing a long-range flashlight from the garage before leaving through the side door. The woods terrified me at night, but I ran for Miguel and Quentin’s house, ignoring the snapping of twigs in the distance.
I was out of breath by the time I’d raced up the ten patio steps and entered the entry code before stepping into the kitchen. The house was dark and quiet, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake. I couldn’t make myself turn back, though, and not just because I was too scared to go into the woods for a second time. It just… felt like I was where I was supposed to be.
A dim stream of light poured through Quentin and Miguel’s cracked bedroom door, but I couldn’t hear their voices as I quietly made my way down the hall.
Quentin snored softly on his side of the bed, but Miguel stirred, blinking awake. He sat straight up when he noticed me. His lamp was still on, and so were his glasses, like he’d fallen asleep by accident. Had he exhausted himself worrying about me? I felt bad for waking him, but before I could back away, he reached out to me.
He had this soft and open look on his face. It was the same way he looked at Quentin. It said maybe the rest of the world had hurt him, but I hadn’t. It said he trusted me. I felt both lucky and sad because while I wanted his trust, I’d lose it if he knew the truth about me.
Miguel tried to rub his eyes, frowning when his glasses got in the way. He set them on the nightstand before reaching out to me again.
