Page 41 of The Wrong Side of Kai
We fall back against the wall, Kai holding me tight. We can’t get enough of one another.
But suddenly there’s a tremendous clatter and we are torn from the moment.
Kai and I abruptly pull out of the kiss. On the ground lies a pile of trophies that we’ve knocked off their shelves.
“Shit,” Kai breathes.
We both turn to look at the stairs to the house, listening. We’re both frozen in place, our hands still on one another. We’re silent for several long seconds until we hear them: footsteps above our heads.
Immediately, we let go of one another. There’s no time to attempt to lift ourselves back out the window. Kai dives behind the bar while I dash over to the couch and drop to the ground behind it. We both remain crouched in position, out of view but not from each other. Kai’s eyes are on me as we listen in silence to the footsteps. They move across the floor above us, then my heart stops when I hear the door to the basement being wrenched open.
It dawns on me then that we’ve left the basement light on.
“Who’s down here?” a deep voice bellows from the top of the staircase. It’s not Harrison’s voice – it must be his father.
Kai stares wide-eyed at me from his hiding spot behind the bar. We didn’t prepare for this. We didn’t evenconsiderthat we could get caught, because we’ve been too wrapped up in the thrill of it. But now I realize how stupid we are, and I’m absolutely terrified.
“WHO’S DOWN HERE?” the voice repeats, more aggressive this time. The staircase creaks as Harrison’s father apprehensively makes his way down into the basement. “Show yourself. I’m armed!”
Fuck.
Screw Ohio and its rather lax gun regulations. Kai’s expression pales and I realize that Harrison’s father is much more likely to react badly against Kai suddenly popping into view than he will against me – a tall, muscular guy? Definitely a burglar. But a terrified, scrawny girl? Harmless.
That’s why I slowly stand up from behind the couch, not making any sudden movements and with my hands held up.
Harrison’s father is standing at the foot of the stairs, shirtless but wearing sweatpants. He’s pointing a handgun in my direction, but instantly lowers it when he realizes I’m just some teenage girl.
“I’m. . . I’m a friend of Harrison’s,” I squeak, unable to get my words out. I step out from around the couch despite the ice in my limbs. None of this feels remotely like a game anymore.
“What are you doing in here?” Harrison’s father looks me up and down, displeased now. Then his shoulders sink and he runs a hand frustratedly through his fading blond hair. “Jesus. Harrison, are you down here too?”
Oh, the complete irony of Harrison’s father suspecting me of fooling around with his son in his basement theonetime I’m not. If I wasn’t frozen in fear right now, I think I might have actually laughed.
“Harrison isn’t here,” I manage to say. My words feel like sandpaper in my throat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Kai slowly rising up from behind the bar. He reveals himself slowly and with his hands visible, but it doesn’t stop Harrison’s father from jabbing the gun in his direction, taken aback by the second intruder.
“Hey, hey,” Kai says. He doesn’t move an inch. “We’re just here to see Harrison.”
Kai and I exchange a look. We are in silent agreement that the best way to get out of this situation is to play it cool, to lie. I do steal a glance at the open window though and wonder just how swiftly I’d be able make a run for it, but I don’t have the courage to even try. Kai and I stay firmly rooted where we are.
“Who are you?” Harrison’s father demands, his eyes flitting between Kai and me.
“Vanessa and Kai,” I splutter, and it is the most inappropriate time in the world to think of how nice our names sound together. “I’m sorry, Mr. Boyd. We’re not trying to disturb you. Please get Harrison. We’re his friends.”
I’m planning our escape route – Mr. Boyd will head upstairs to get Harrison while Kai and I throw ourselves out that window at full speed before we take off running down the street. We’ll jump on our bikes and pedal like we’ve never pedaled before.
But Harrison’s father doesn’t budge. He lays down the gun on a shelf, his hand still hovering over it, as he turns to the stairs and yells, “Harrison! Get downstairs!”
A minute of intense silence ensues. Kai and I are like statues, unmoving and unblinking, while Mr. Boyd stares us down. He’s either angry because heknowswe’re lying, or he’s angry that Harrison is letting friends sneak over late at night. It’s after midnight by now.
We hear more footsteps – this time faster as they cross whatever room is above us, then rush down the staircase. “What, Dad?” Harrison asks, the agitation evident in his voice. He appears before us and stops dead in his tracks halfway down the stairs. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, his blond hair tousled. “What the hell?”
“Are these your friends?” his father demands.
Harrison stares straight past his father to me. He blinks, as though he can’t believe I’m really standing here in his basement at midnight, then slowly he narrows his eyes into a glower. I give him a pathetic smile.
“I’ve got this,” he says, but his father tries to argue with him. “Dad! I’ve got this,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “And put that thing away.”
