Page 37 of Ominous: Part 1
“Love you, son.”
Shit, it is his dad.
“Bye.” Eli ends the call, and music fills the interior of the car again.
I look back down at my phone, questions spinning in my mind. I read Mom’s text again, about what time I’ll be home. She’s let me go to sleepovers with Amanda, hang out late, encouraged me to, even, to get out of my own head.
But that was all before what happened at Shoreside. Besides, Eli’s got avigilto attend. I didn’t see that coming.
Me: How late can I stay out?I ask it, even knowing I might have to be dropped off earlier. Because…vigil.I think of the purpose of one. It comes from a Latin word we learned just last week.Vigilia. Wakefulness.To keep watch.For whom?
Her: You have work tomorrow, how about 11?
I exhale a little, like I thought she might actually say I should stay over, and I wanted an excuse not to.
Me: Okay, thanks.
“You done over there?”
I look up as I click off my phone screen, flipping it to rest on my thigh, my palm over the bright green case on the back where I clack my lime green nails.
“What was that about?”
“I think it’s my turn to ask questions.” His voice has a teasing edge, but he doesn’t look at me.
I glance at the road, having no idea where we’re going. This is a nice part of Raleigh, with wide, freshly paved streets, yards like estates and houses more like mansions set far back off the road. “A vigil?” I press. “Who is it for?”
“An old friend.”
I squirm a little in my seat. “An old friend?”
“That’s what I said.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and watch as he glances at me, smirking a little. “Aclosefriend?”
He sighs, shaking his head as he leans back in his seat. “A girl I used to fuck.”
My blood runs cold with his bluntness. I feel a little shaky and I grip my phone so hard, my palm starts to sweat. “A girl you used to… I think you should elaborate.”
“I don’t think I should.”
My stomach flips. “Where are you taking me?”
He huffs the smallest laugh. “Are you nervous, Eden?”
I don’t really know the answer to that, so I just blurt out, “Is she dead?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“What?” My nerves raise my voice an octave as I sit up straighter in his seat. “What’s the vigil for? Tell me now.”
“It’s for a friend of mine who went missing. A long time ago. Could be dead, could be alive.” He says it all so blasé, like he doesn’t care either way. Then he just changes the subject. “I’m really tired, you know. Pretty sore, too. I’d really like a massage, but—”
“I’m not giving you a massage.” The offense in my tone is only partly real as I glance at the lines of his biceps and squeeze my thighs together. What would it feel like, to touch his skin?
“Butsince I don’t think I could talk you into that, can we start now?” He continues speaking like I didn’t interrupt him, but he’s smiling again, eyes on the road.
I drop the vigil. He gave me an answer. Maybe I don’t want to know more. There are things I don’t speak of, and ignorance truly can be bliss.
