The Boy Who Broke Mirrors

4

'No, don't worry, I'll just walk home instead or some--'

'You're not walking home alone, Mia, just wait at your friend's, and I mean that. If I find out you've walked home or waited on the street, you're in deep trouble. I've got to go, okay? Text me the house's address.'

Before I can even say goodbye, Dad hangs up. Well, I just made that situation ten times worse. I'd really rather not be alone with Preston for an hour, so when he tries leading me away from the bus stop and towards his house, I don't follow. I'm still shaking a little.

I raise my eyebrows at him. 'If you think I'm going anywhere with you, let alone a house that's probably empty, you may as well find the nearest brick wall, ram your head into it, knock yourself out, wake up, and then repeat the process several times over.'

Instead of answering, Preston shoots me his signature smirk. He bends down and begins untying one of his Dr. Marten shoes until the shoelace is pulled out completely. He stands up, black lace in hand, and places his arms out in front of him. Both wrists are aligned against each other.

'Tie my hands together.'

'What?'

Jesus, he's weird.

'I can't harm you if my hands are tied.'

Preston passes me his shoelace, and I stare at him with it in my hand. With a smile still on his lips, he nods at his wrists as the shoelace starts feeling rough against my fingertips. This guy does owe me a hell of a lot... Plus I know for a fact that if I stay here and wait, Dad will just about kill me. With a sigh, I wrap the lace around Preston's wrists and fasten it, tightly. In a triple knot. All the while, he hums an unrecognisable tune that has a beat perfectly in sync with the pattering rain.

Preston's hands are still tied as we arrive at his house. He's clearly lost all kinds of common sense because he left his front door wide open whenever he left earlier, so we're able to casually stroll inside. It's nowhere near as big as Robbie's house, but it's still impressive with a long, narrow hallway on the bottom floor leading to at least six open doors. I'm walking fairly steadily now, minus the occasional stumble, and I've text Dad the address. Since I tied his hands together, Preston's not said a word to me. The only sound he's made is that tuneless humming, and he carries on doing just that as he leads me up the carpeted stairs.

Once we've reached the landing, I'm led into a large bedroom with walls covered in colourful posters of what would be a small boy's dream, from pictures of threatening dinosaurs to Power Rangers battling each other. The double bed's duvet has an image of some cartoon car on it, and there are curtains to match.

'This isn't your bedroom, right?' I ask, concerned about the reply I'm going to get.

I don't have to be wary of the answer though because Preston doesn't give me one. He says nothing.

'Has anyone ever told you that you're really weird?' I ask him.

'Has anyone ever told you that your name sounds like an STD?'

'You've asked me that already, remember?' I snap back at him.

'I didn't receive an answer, so I'm asking again.'

He doesn't get one this time either, and instead, I shoot him a glare. He ignores it and wanders over to a silver stereo in the corner of the room. Rather awkwardly, as his hands are still tied, he fiddles around with it until he manages to pop a CD into the machine. All the while, I'm sitting on the bed with my wet hair dripping over the cartoon car. I wish I at least had something to dry off with.

'I'll fetch you a towel now,' Preston says as if he just read my mind. 'And leave you with the soothing sound of Nirvana's Lithium.'

I roll my eyes. How edgy.