FREE STORY WITH EXCLUSIVE CONTENT. This is *not* a Paid Story.
Eighteen-year-old hockey prodigy Elliot Wexler has three goals for senior year. One: somehow graduate with a 3.5 GPA. Two: hide his bipolar disorder from his peers. And three: make it in...
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THE CITY BUS DROPS me in front of a building with broken-up walls and bars on the windows. The sun glares in my eyes the moment I walk out. A giant billboard overlooks the block with a realtor's face on it, an old dude with a butt-chin and a plastic smile. Someone spray-painted a curly mustache and devil horns on him. The guys and I used to do stuff like that, but I was always the one shitting my pants and keeping lookout because I was terrified of Dad finding out. On our side of town, vandalism like that's always covered up within a week anyway. I wonder how long the realtor has looked like that.
It's not like I've never been to the west end—this is a common travel route when we leave the city for games, but I've never explored this area, so I have no idea where to go or what to look for—but I do know who to look for.
If our roles were reversed, and I'd lost something that looks important to me, I'd want Lucy to get it back to me. It's the right thing to do, right? I found her box a few days ago, and since I'm done my homework and have a night off hockey, Mom and Dad didn't protest me going out. I don't know how stoked Lucy's gonna be to see me (if I can even find her), and a lump forms in my throat. Well, I'm already here, so... game time.
The fluorescent signs of the shops are faded and flickering, like they were made in the seventies or something. A group of guys in front of a church smoke cigarettes and glare at me like I'm fresh meat. Homeless dudes ask me for change as I walk, but I only carry my debit, so I have nothing to give them.
Man, I'm so out of my element, it's not even funny. An hour passes as I walk down street after street and peek into alleys, looking for any sign of the girl from last week. By the time the sun sets, I realize how dumb this is. I'm never gonna find her aimlessly walking around. My head hurts from how cold my ears are, so I sit on a bench to take a breather.
Lucy has a distinct voice, one that hasn't left my head since the night I met her. It's soft and melodic, but her tone is harsh and defensive—so when I hear it, I know it's her. My heart jumps as I rush toward the sound, and there she is, standing in an alleyway.
The first thing I notice is that she's wearing the jacket I gave her. Long brown hair spills over the letters of my last name, and it's three times too big for her small body. The second is that two guys are hovering over her.
Oh, fuck.
"Hey Loosey." The big guy elbows her. "Haven't seen you around here in a while, huh?"
"Nice coat," the thin one says. "Where'd you afford to get that?"
The big one holds her back by her arms while the other unzips the coat, and Lucy squirms. "Guys, stop! You can't take it, it's not mine!"
I dash toward them. "Hey, let her go!"
They drop her, but when their stares fall on me, their laughs echo through the alley.
