missing | gilinsky

59

Jack Johnson

"Where are you going?" Mom asks, stopping me by the front door. "You just got home."

"I've got stuff to take care of," I claim, one hand on the doorknob and the other scratching my freshly shaven face.

"What kind of stuff?" She encourages, raising her eyebrows. 

Swallowing hard, I look around for Nadia to help me out, but I think she's in her room. I'm all on my own with this one. Mom folds her arm across her chest when I don't answer in the time frame she deems acceptable. 

"Jack..." she simpers, giving me a look. 

"I wouldn't go if it wasn't important," I vow, dancing on my toes. If I don't leave now there's a chance I could miss her, and if that were to happen I don't know if I'd be able to live with myself. 

Mom scratches her head in disapproval. "I don't like you sneaking around like this." 

"I know, I'm -" I stop myself before finishing my apology. I've been saying 'sorry' a lot lately, and it's beginning to get on my nerves. "I'm going to see Mallory," I confess, feeling as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I've gotten so accustomed to lying it felt good to actually tell the truth for once. 

The surprise on Mom's face is evident, and I don't blame her. I haven't spoken of Mallory since Dad died, but with everything that's been happening lately I've been nonstop thinking about her. Especially after Hannah told me what happened at graduation yesterday. 

"Alright," Mom starts, "you can go. But don't stay out to late, if you want she can come here for a while." 

I quickly thank her, giving her a peck on the cheek before racing out the front door. Hopping on my bike I pedal out onto the street and pray that I'll make it to Mike's in time. 

He called me just as Gilinsky dropped Nadia and me off to tell me that Mallory was having some sort of mental breakdown at his place. 

I didn't bother asking why she was at his house to begin with, because the answer was probably as simple as I thought it was. For the weed. Instead, I ran upstairs to brush my teeth and throw on some fresh clothes before heading out the door. 

I get there in record time, throwing my bike down on the pavement and rushing up the driveway. The door swings open before I even have a chance to knock, and it's not Mike nor Mallory who greet me. 

Bile rises in my throat at the sight in front of me. I stumble backwards, my heart threatening to explode.

"Nate," I breathe, my whole world crashing down around me.

The image of Sam lying in the hospital bed surfaces in my mind, and no matter how hard I try it doesn't go away. I grip my chest, attempting to catch my breath. I can't start hyperventilating. Not right now. 

"Johnson," he acknowledges. 

"What are you doing here?" I manage to get out. My panic is starting to settle, anger taking it's place. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I take a step towards him and shove him backwards. 

"It wasn't me!" He clarifies, moving away from me. I walk into Mike's house and slam the front door shut behind me. "Justin was the one who shot him. Not me. I didn't even know he was gonna do it." 

"Where is he now?" I rage, willing myself not to allow my fist to meet his face. I need answers first. 

"I don't know. We separated once we heard the police sirens." 

"Don't you dare fucking be bullshitting me right now," I hiss. "Not after all the shit you put me through." 

"Ask Mike, he'll vouch for me."