Page 55 of Bound By Fury

I laugh, shoving his shoulder playfully. “Yeah, I’m sure it can’t be too bad having your name on a building.”

It’s so easy, forgetting it all, falling back into this pattern. But I’m reminded of the things that have changed when Lucas’s lids lower and his mouth quirks to the side.

This time when he speaks, his voice is noticeably deeper.

“I missed this,” he says, and I freeze, captivated by his eyes.

Around us the ambient noise of buzzing fluorescent lights and turning pages fades away. When he smiles, the edges of my vision begin to undulate.

And just as quickly as the spell was cast, it’s over, and he’s dropping his stack of books off behind the checkout counter and leading me down the rusted-over stairs.

I rub my eyes with the back of my hand.

The basement is home to cluttered shelves and piles of books and papers littered haphazardly across the stained, blue carpeting, and I decide that I’m glad I ran into Lucas and that he was willing to come with me because this place gives me the creeps.

“The archives for both the school and the town are down here. We’ve also got a microfiche with documents and newspapers from Earnest. The school gets some kind of historical grant for working with local historians.”

I watch him with an amused expression as we weave through the overstuffed shelves. So much of our summers were spent covered in dirt in the woods, or down in the Village with sticky fingers and dollar-store aloe on our sunburns. But I never got to see him like this, at home in a way, in his element. I can tell there’s a part of him that truly loves this school. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the way he absently straightens the books as he passes them.

“A microfiche, really? That’s awesome. I’ve always wanted to use one.”

He glances at me over his shoulder, laughing. “Of course you have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, even though I know what he’s going to say.

“Nothing, it’s just, you’re still a secret nerd.”

“Not sure it’s much of a secret anymore. And being nerdy isn’t a bad thing. And being good at school doesn’t make me nerdy.”

“No, being nerdy is what makes you nerdy.”

As we travel deeper into the basement, I’m overcome with the feeling of being watched. Some hind part of my mind begs me to turn around, but instead I inch closer to Lucas.

“Here you go,” he says, stopping in front of a bookshelf with glass doors. The yearbook spines are the same deep blue and yellow gold of our uniforms.

“What years are you looking for?”

“1965–69, I think.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Retro.” Pausing, he tilts his head to assess me. “You’re looking for Gigi.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah, she went here too, you know. So I figured after everything…”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

I’ve wondered more than once why he wasn’t at the funeral but Malachi was. Even if Malachi’s only purpose for being there was to tell me to go home.

“About that,” he starts, and I hold up my hand to stop him.

“Don’t say you’re sorry for my loss.”

He closes his mouth again, his eyebrows tugging together.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—everyone always says that, and I’m tired of people feeling bad for me.”

“No, I get it. I was too young to remember my mom dying, but even now when people find out about it, they always have to say something stupid. And after Lex… you know…”

My stomach drops. Of course, how could I forget about his mom? She died the summer before I met the boys. Cervical cancer recurrence. After last summer, I can’t imagine what that’s been like. Four people to mourn instead of one.