Page 48 of Saving Sparrow
“I-I think so.” Joshua slowed his steps.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” That was a promise I would keep. I didn’t know if there was anyone in the basement, but I’d fight until my last breath to keep Joshua safe.
We eventually came to a stop at the end of the hall, right in front of a steel door. A heaviness pressed down on my chest, stealing my air. I didn’t know what I’d find down there, but I somehow knew the basement was the key to saving Elliott.
“I want to go back now,” Joshua whined. “I want to go back to my room.”
“It’s okay,” I said softly, trying to calm his rising panic. “We can go back now.” I just needed to know where it was for next time, needed to gain a better understanding of my surroundings and the workings of this house.
“I want to go back.” His tone grew louder now, and I fought to keep my own panic from rising. “I want to go back!”
“I’ll take you back to your room, Joshua, just calm down for me, okay?”
“No.” He shook his head, squeezing my hand tight enough to break a finger. “I don’t want to go down there.”
“You never have to come back, I promise. I can come back by myself, okay?”
“You gotta get the keys!” he exclaimed, his young voice frantic as he stared down at the lock on the basement door.
“What’s down there?” I whispered, heart pounding in my throat. Both lock and door were made of thick steel. My instincts told me that whatever was down there wasn’t good.
“Y-you gotta get the—” His breath hitched, his watery blue gaze darting over my shoulder. I glanced back but couldn’t see anyone down the gloomy hallway.
“Oh no…” He fisted his fire truck pajama top, the color draining from his face.
“What’s wrong?” My fear made me sound impatient. “What’s happening?”
The world around us froze when he breathed, “Someone’s coming.”
Elliott
Then
“What’s taking him so long?” I checked Quentin’s location again, but it still said it couldn’t be found.Did he turn it off?“Do you think something happened?” We’d gotten back to the house after Quentin’s team meeting, and in less than five minutes he was gone again. Miguel and I had been reading ever since to pass the time.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Miguel said, his back against mine. “It hasn’t even been half an hour.”
“But he said he’d be back in ten minutes.”
Miguel laughed. “That’s just an expression. He’s probably just taking the scenic way back from wherever he went. He won’t admit it, but busy streets make him nervous.”
“Well… Should we… I…” I didn’t understand why Miguel wasn’t more anxious. Just yesterday he’d left me to go through the bookshelves in search of our next read while he and Quentin went to the kitchen to bring back food. They insisted they’d both go to make the trip faster. They came back sweaty and out of breath, looking like they’d run miles to hurry back to me.
We hated being away from each other. I hadn’t left their side much since that first night I’d slept in their bed. It had been two months of our waking up and falling asleep together, and it had beenyearsof that for Quentin and Miguel.
I still had my moments when I wanted to be alone, but they were just moments—here one minute and gone the next—and I usually went no further than the room across the hall. Sometimes I went “through thewoods,” the term we now used for my aunt’s house, but those instances were rare.
The point was, when I needed Quentin and Miguel, I had them. Now I needed Quentin, and he was gone. It made me anxious.
I suddenly felt like an idiot, like maybe us getting closer meant more to me than it did to them. I felt even sillier after realizing I was spiraling after less than thirty minutes without Quentin. What would happen when school started next week?
“Hey,” Miguel said softly. I turned to face him, my breathing shallow. “If he’s not back in five minutes, I’ll call him, okay?” He waited for me to nod, then pressed his forehead against mine. We stayed that way until my breathing evened out.
“I can’t believe the summer’s over,” I whispered. I didn’t handle change or stress well, and things would be changing soon.
“Is that what’s bothering you?” Miguel straightened the strap on the camisole I wore. It was such a small thing for him to do, but I liked it when he took care of me, no matter how small the gesture.
“Nothing’s bothering me.”
