The Eighth Gate

18 | More Is Lost Than Found

For the first time since Mason had met her, Mary wasn’t at her locker this morning.

With a mental shrug he leaned back against it, the back of his head resting lightly on the cool metal. He dug his hands into his pockets and waited.

He felt pretty damn shitty, and it wasn’t just because it was early in the morning and he wasn’t a morning person in the slightest. On top of the fact that his head was pounding with a slight hangover, his body ached all over, and although he had knocked out quite quickly after a couple of drinks the night before, he still fell as if he hadn’t slept well in days.

Booze and girls were great and all, he thought, but only for a little while. A new dawn had cracked open the day, nightfall and the moon’s glow separating yesterday’s actions from the consequences that followed the moment the sun lit up the ocean’s horizon. Mason suddenly felt bad—guilty, even—for ditching Mary and his sister at the empty lot and forcing them to find another ride to Mary’s. He felt guilty for meeting up with Celeste, and not texting Mary when he said he would, and choosing to get drunk off his ass later that night.

It was all just so much—too much—to take in. Mason wasn’t the type of person who dealt with problems that concerned him or others, unless that person happened to be a hot girl. And ever since he found Mary passed out at the cemetery, and he saw Avery—his little sister, the only girl in his life he had ever loved—staring back at him with enough sadness for the both of them, his life had been nothing but a whirlwind of problems. He had been thrust into a part of this world he hadn’t ever believed in, much less given any thought to unless he was sitting in a movie theatre watching some cheap horror film.

It was all very overwhelming, a lifestyle Mason wasn’t cut out for. So, just as he did every time the going got tough, he fled.

And now, with five minutes until the bell rang and Mary nowhere in sight, he wished he hadn’t.

“Morning, Mason.” It was Daniel, Ruth’s prim and proper boyfriend, and one of Mason’s supposed ‘friends’. “Waiting for Mary?”

Mason lifted his chin. “So what if I am?”

He put his hands up, palms facing the mayor’s son. “No need to get all defensive, man,” he replied with a half chuckle. “I was just curious.”

Mason turned his head away from Daniel, eyeing the fresh paint job layered over Mary’s locker. Any normal person would have taken this as an indication that he wasn’t in the mood to talk, but Daniel had this thing about him where he either didn’t read into social cues very well or he simply didn’t care. Either way, his persistence—along with his unwaveringly friendly character—irritated the hell out of Mason.

“I’ve been seeing you two together a lot these days, and I know it can’t be for that reason, because she’s not your type. So I’m guessing you two have a group project together?”

Mason clenched his jaw, his gaze planted on the locker; the teal paint was layered too thinly, as indicated by the faint black markings of permanent marker showing beneath it like scars. “Something like that.”

“Is she at school today?”

Mason narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure why Daniel was suddenly interested in Mary; this was the first time he had ever talked about her to him. He assumed he was simply using her as a topic of discussion for small talk. “Why do you care?”

“Mary’s my friend,” Daniel said, scrunching his blonde eyebrows together. The bell rang, and Mason’s stomach clenched. Maybe she wasn’t here today... “Anyway, I’d better get to class. I’ll see you in second period, man.” He reached out a hand as if to clap Mason on the shoulder as he passed, and Mason braced himself, mentally preparing for the pain—and how to hide it—before impact.