Page 42 of Soul So Dark
This time, when I walk back to the Lutz’s house, I don’t cut across the front yard. This time, I walk along the tree line next to the driveway, concealed in the shadows until I get to the back patio. It’s quiet now, the light above the back door off and the first-floor windows dark. Eyeing the side of the pergola, I follow the path from the concrete, up the slats adorned with plant boxes, and to the top, where the slats lead right to Dallas’s window.
I was kind of bluffing at first. I didn’t think it would be so easy.
Similarly, I’m not expecting for the window to actually move when I brace my palms against the top of the pane and start pushing. Once I can fit my body through, I duck underneath the window and into the room. It’s quiet, with a glow emitting from the lamp on the bedside table. And when I look around, I find Dallas standing next to the dresser, staring at me as I pull myself all the way through as quietly as possible.
“Hey, Dal,” I slowly straighten up, waiting to see how she’ll react.
She’s no longer in the same clothes from downstairs, but instead wearing a pair of black sleep shorts and a grey tank top. Her hair falls over her shoulders in a chaotic wave, framing her deep blue eyes staring back at me in surprise.
“Hi,” she replies slowly, studying me as she pushes her thick black glasses up the bridge of her nose and sets a purple case down on the dresser.
Moving like I’m trying not to startle a cat, I take a step toward the PlayStation console next to the TV. “I told you I wanted to playTomb Raiderwith you,” I say softly, reaching up to take the controller from the shelf before tossing it onto her bed.
Dallas gives a faint smile as she reaches for the controller and then sits down with her legs crossed and her back against the pillows. I press the power button and reach for the window frame, steadying myself as I kick off my boots. The game loads and the TV screen lights up as soon as she turns it on with the remote.
“You can go first,” I say quietly.
Then I look over my other shoulder and scan the bookshelf, quickly finding what I’m looking for. Sliding the blue paperback off the shelf, I notice, much to my relief, that the page I stopped at is still dog-eared. Dallas is already playing, and it’s safer to speak now that we’re shoulder to shoulder.
“It wasn’t Col, Mase, or Aiden playing last night,” I say gently, opening the book.
“Then who was it?” she clips, still not believing me for a second.
“My cousins, Noah, Javi, and Liam. They don’t live here, so that’s how we hang out.” Dallas glances at me and then back to the screen. I lean closer to her shoulder and bow my head next to hers. “Dallas, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
I leave it at that, letting her marinate on my words. When she vanished last night, I wanted to blow up her phone and ask her what the hell her problem was, acting like I’ve been a dick to her for the past seven years. I’ve never been anything but nice to her. I even let her eat my candy when I brought it over.
I remember because there were never any yellow fucking gummy bears left.
“Anyway,” I mutter, flipping to the page where I left off, “I doubt Col would like it if he knew I was here hanging out in your room.”
“Because you’rehisfriend?” Dallas guesses with a sharper tone.
“Because you’re hissister,” I correct her.
“Don’t you hang out with other girls?”
“You’re a lot younger than the girls I hang out with.”
“It’s just a cultural construct,” she shrugs, keeping her eyes trained on the screen, “humans are considered physically mature and biological adults at 16, but the brain doesn’t finish developing until you’re almost 30. Society’s picked arbitrary ages to define maturity, none of which coincide with any meaningful milestones.”
What the…
There’s a long pause before she finally glances to the side to see if I’m even listening.
“Yeah,” I reply through hooded eyes, “and you’re not even 16.”
“Then what are you doing here if you think it’s so wrong?”
This time, my tone matches the acidity of hers. “You can hang out with someone without wanting to get in their pants.”
“Oh, likeColson?” she snickers. “I know what you all do. You think he brings girls home to sit in his room and playHalo?” She can barely keep a straight face, “Sometimes I blow up his phone from the other room when he has someone over. Like, call him every minute to ask him something or go on some long tangent about nothing,” she about snorts into her controller, “it makes himsomad, and then he finally hangs up on me,” she giggles.
She’s such a little hellion, I chuckle to myself, shaking my head at the thought of Dallas being a total cock-block gremlin just for fun.
I take my glasses off, toss them onto the side table, and settle back to continue readingThe Outsiders,which has me unexpectedly hooked. Some preppy dude is dead and Ponyboy and Johnny are on the run. Talk about high-stakes drama.
An hour flies by before I close the book and turn to Dallas in shock.
