My mom found him. They'd gotten into a huge fight, her coming home and asking why I hadn't been there the night before and why I hadn't been there all day. He'd tried to lie, telling her that I was at a slumber party, but my mom knew better. She knew that I had no girlfriends to have a slumber party with.  

So she asked him again. He told her the truth; told her that she'd raised a slut, had caught me having sex with a guy on the porch, and then hit me when I screamed at him. He said that whores weren't able to talk to him like that without getting punished. My mom apparently had enough. She walked to the closet and grabbed bags that she'd packed a while back, that she was just waiting for the little straw to break the camel's back before she really left. 

My dad hit her as well, telling her that she couldn't leave him, that he was hers and could never be anyone else's. But my mom fought back. She grabbed a lamp from the end table and crashed it over his head. It didn't knock him unconscious, didn't cause him to black out. But it did give her time to flee the house and go to her friend from work.  

The police called her right before she'd talked to Lucas' mom. The neighbor heard a gunshot around noon today and reported it. The cops arrived at our house exactly five minutes after the call and had to break down the door because no one would answer. They found my father lying in the middle of the den, a gunshot to the head causing a giant pool of blood all around his lifeless body. They'd also found a smashed picture frame in the corner of the room, the picture of the two of them kissing on their wedding day. 

Lucas' mom broke down into sobs as she gave me the rundown. I'd asked her to tell me everything, every little detail, and I know that in doing so it really did hurt her. But I had to know. I couldn't just live not knowing why or how. I had to know. I feel awful that she had to be the one to break the news to me, and I feel worse knowing that she's in her room crying her eyes out. Lucas called his dad to leave the golf tournament he was playing in today, and after he gave him a brief recap of the day's events, his dad solemnly told him that he'd be home as soon as possible. 

Lucas hasn't let go of me since. 

I haven't really cried. I've just lain on his bed, curved into a little moon, staring at the same exact curving line etched into his blue walls. I've felt his hands rubbing little circles into my back, his fingers combing through my crazy hair, his little whispers of, "It's going to be okay," and "I've got you".  

I've heard him but I haven't really listened.  

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. My father is gone. He's taken his own life because my mother left him. She left him because he hit me, because he called me a whore. Is this my fault? Am I the real reason that he's killed himself? Does my mom blame me? Is that why she hasn't been here to come and see me? Mrs. Emma told me that the moment she heard the news she fled to Idaho to visit my Aunt Katie. Did she not invite me to come because she blames me? 

I asked Lucas this question a while back and all he said was, "This is the farthest thing from your fault, Nay. Your dad wasn't mentally stable. Don't blame yourself; it'll only make you sick in the end." 

I don't know if I believe him or not. When he told me this, I kind of just stared at his face for a while; at the flawless tan skin that I don't believe has ever met a pimple. Then I turned around and looked back at the crack in the wall and started comparing it to the Nile River. 

oOoOo 

"Are you sure you're going to be okay while I'm at school?" Lucas asks me as he stands at the foot of his bed, the bed that I don't think either of us has really left in two days. Lucas' mom let him miss school yesterday when I overheard him tell her that he can't just leave me when I've barely said two words since Saturday afternoon. Apparently yesterday messed up his perfect attendance record, but he wouldn't listen to me when I protested his skipping. All he did was roll his eyes at me and say that I was crazy for even thinking he should leave me right now. 

He asked to skip again today but his mom thankfully told him no, that he can't miss two days in a row because it's almost impossible to make up work after that. He protested for a good while but he eventually came up the stairs and into the room in a huff, his fingers clenched tightly at his sides.  

I nod and say, "I'll be fine," even though I know today is going to be extremely difficult without him here. Mrs. Emma told me that she'd be with me all day, that she'd do whatever I wanted her to, but that's not what I want. I don't want someone to be my servant. I just want Lucas to lie next to me, to have one-sided conversations with himself to try and distract my thoughts. I just want to know that he's there. 

But I don't want him to miss school again. He can't just disregard his life and what he's got to do simply because my life has been turned completely upside down. So although it's going to be extremely difficult for me today, I want what's best for him. And what's best for him is not staying in bed all day with a mute girl.  

He keeps his eyes on my face for a few more elongated moments, something that he's been doing a lot of recently, and then breathes out a heady sigh. "Fine," he says, walking over to my side of the bed and then kneeling down in front of me. He brushes some of my unwashed hair out of my face and says, "I'll be back before you know it, okay?" 

I urge him, "Do what you want, please. Don't feel like you have to come back here just for me." 

He gives me a crooked grin before leaning in and pressing a kiss against the cheek that's not pressed into the soft sheets of his bed. His lips linger on my skin for a second longer than necessary, and then he pulls back and says, "I'm coming straight here, don't worry." 

I roll my eyes at him, causing him to laugh. He says, "There's my girl," before pressing one more kiss against my cheek and then leaving his bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him. He doesn't even bother turning the lights off, knowing that I'm not going to get any sleep in today. I haven't slept an interval of longer than two hours since Saturday and he's more than aware of that fact. 

It takes me more than a long time to get myself out bed and over towards Lucas' bathroom, but when I finally get there and climb into his shower, I can't help but feel just a little bit better than what I did. I'm not really going to admit how long it's been since I've showered because it's absolutely revolting, but I do know that when I'm finally done and manage to pull on some clothes from the pile of his older sister's stuff resting on his desk chair, I really don't feel like climbing back into bed.  

So instead I manage to creep outside of his bedroom for the first time in three days and head on down the stairs, intent on finding something to eat. When I see that their kitchen is empty, I say a silent thanks. I really do love Mrs. Emma like she's my own mother, but I don't want to have to deal with anyone but Lucas today.  

I peel open the pantry door and immediately seek out the best kind of comfort there is, mashed potatoes. Lucas had told his mom, against my wishes mind you, to buy a big case of these little one-person cups of microwavable mashed potatoes, the best kind of cry baby food there is. I find that she got the variety case, and immediately grab the buttery kind and then after putting just a bit of water in, pop it in the microwave. 

I mindlessly watch the small bowl go around in its circular motions, just waiting for it to finish so I can dive in, but am stopped short when a warm voice says from behind me, "I thought I heard someone in here." 

I turn around and see that Mrs. Emma has walked into the room, her body clad in her daily kind of clothes but her hair wet from a shower. The smell of a floral shampoo immediately covers over the smell of buttery potatoes coming from the microwave, making me just the slightest bit irritated. I just give her a nod in response and then turn back to watching the food merry-go-round in the microwave. 

She says, "I can make you something better than that if you'd like. I know you haven't eaten much." 

I don't even bother turning around as I say, "These are fine, thanks though." 

She's quiet for a moment, doing that whole pensive silence thing that her son is so good at that. When she speaks, though, it sounds like she's holding back tears. She says, "Naomi, honey. I know you're angry with me because I made Lucas go to school, but..." 

I quickly pivot around on my feet and shake my head at her, "Mrs. Emma...I'm nowhere near angry with you for that. I know Lucas needed to go, I wanted him to." 

She quickly blinks back her tears and gives me a reassuring smile, "Oh thank goodness." 

The loud beeping of the microwave makes her jump a little bit, and makes me feel much more relieved that I can now just retreat back up to Lucas' room, eat this, and then hopefully get a little bit of sleep. I wordlessly turn around and grab the hot bowl before reaching in the drawer and grabbing a spoon. When I turn back around I see that Lucas' mom is still watching me, making me feel just the slightest bit unnerved.  

Knowing that she usually has a strict policy on eating food only downstairs, I ask her, "Is it okay if I eat this in Lucas' room?" 

She gives me a small smile and says, "Sure, honey. Do you need anything else?" 

I shake my head, not wanting to stay downstairs any longer, and then say, "I'll see you later," before quickly heading up the stairs and back into the peaceful safety of Lucas' room. 

oOoOo 

Lucas and I are sitting on the couch with both of his brothers later that night, watching one of those corny Disney Channel movies that always somehow or another manages to end in a cheesy high school dance. We're not exactly paying attention though. I'm focusing on a book that Lucas' mom got me earlier in the day to take my mind off of things and Lucas is busy wolfing down a bowl of Fruit Loops like he hasn't eaten in weeks. 

Even though the night seems so simple and oh so boring to most teenagers, it's one of the best nights I've had in a while. It's peaceful, calming, and the fact that I'm surrounded by people who actually care about me is a definite plus. Lucas keeps shooting me comforting smiles and squeezing my arm, the sweet twin Johnny sat on my lap until about thirty minutes ago, and if I've been counting right, his mom has asked be about ten times if I need anything from the kitchen. 

All of their kindness has put tears in my eyes a few times, if I'm being honest. Sure they were always so sweet to me before, and I know that this has a lot to do with my dad's death and the fact that I'm an emotional basket case, but still...it's nice to know that they're here and that they're here for me. It's a feeling I haven't felt in forever. 

The loud chiming of the doorbell makes us all twine our necks to look at the front door, me wondering who could be so rude to show up unannounced at eight o'clock on a school night. Sure I may sound like some crazy mom who has these ridiculous manners, but it's just considerate to call first. Right? 

I keep my butt firmly planted on the couch seeing as how I don't live here in the first place, and Lucas is far too content stuffing his face with sugary cereal, so it takes about a minute or so before Mrs. Emma huffs and says, "Don't everyone get up at once," before climbing off her position on the loveseat and making her way to the front door. 

Figuring that it's just one of the neighbors from down the street, I turn my attention back to my book and keep on reading. It's finally gotten good and I really don't want to have to put it down now.  

"Sorry it's so late, but I really need to see Lucas," I hear a familiar girly voice say, and I've dropped the book and spun around insanely fast before a normal person can even blink. When I see Destiny standing in front of Mrs. Emma and through the doorway, I feel a part of me start to panic. I haven't seen her since I reamed her out at her house about being so inconsiderate when it came to Lucas' and I's friendship. What's she going to do when she learns that I've been living here for almost a week? 

Her eyes meet mine from across the living room and even in my blurry state of mind I can see the brief look of concern that flits across her pretty face before she can compose herself and seem happy. I swallow back hard and then look over at Lucas who has paused halfway through chewing his cereal. His blue eyes meet mine and I see the pleading in them, as if he's telling me that he's not going to let this cause a problem.  

I nod slowly and then turn back to facing the opposite side of the living room, grabbing my book in the process and then placing it on my knee. But God knows that I'm not going to pay any attention whatsoever now that the peace in the house has been disrupted.  

I feel the sofa inflate a little bit more when Lucas gets up and heads that way, and I'm so freaked about this starting something that I can't make a sarcastic remark about his fat ass. Biting down on my bottom lip in worry, I look over at the twins and see that they're grumbling to each other about something, and I can't help but be surprised when Tommy says, "Why does she have to come here? Naomi's here now." 

Fighting the small smile that I feel working its way up, I shoot a quick wink at the boys when they realize that I've caught their gossip, and then turn back to my book. In the time it takes me to fully comprehend the one sentence that I've read, I see out of the corner of my eye Destiny and Lucas disappear into the kitchen, Destiny looking more intense than I've ever seen her.  

Mrs. Emma comes over and plops herself down next to me on the sofa, placing a warm hand on my knee, before she asks me, "You alright?" 

"I'm fine," I say with a jerky nod, even though there's a part of me dying to go hide in a corner and eavesdrop on the couple's conversation. I want to know what Destiny has to say about my living here. I have to know. 

She says intently, "Look, she may have a problem with you living here, but none of us do, okay? We love having you. Don't let her get to you. She's just insecure." 

"I know," I say, remembering the conversation I had with her in her bedroom before my life was completely flipped. I remember how uneasy she'd seemed at my being friends with Lucas, how she'd confessed that she told him to stop being my friend. "I just...I don't want me to be a source of tension for them. I know Lucas really loves her." 

Mrs. Emma rolls her eyes and, after making a quick scan of the den, she leans in a little bit closer to me and says, "I don't think he does anymore. If a boy can sleep in the same bed as another girl while having a girlfriend and not feel the least bit guilty, then he's not really in love with her." 

Feeling a slight blush rise to my cheeks because she's brought up me and Lucas' extremely comfortable and somewhat intimate sleeping arrangements, I feel the urge to say, "That's not...it's not like that." 

She laughs like the gossiping old lady she is and says, "It's not...for now. But I know that, despite everything that's happened between you and Lucas, that you're the one he truly cares for. Not her." 

I want to remind her how he so easily left me so that he could have her just two short years ago, but I don't feel like rehashing any unneeded drama right now. I've finally managed to extract myself from that comatose state I was in and I've managed to stop feeling resentment towards Lucas because of that said abandonment. I just want to be content right now. I just want to be able to lie around and avoid thinking about my family situation.  

So instead of telling her what I feel like is the truth, I simply say, "Maybe," giving her the hint that this is something I really don't want to be discussing, especially when the two of them are just in the other room. 

She gives me another one of those maternal smiles, pats my knee, and then gets up and leaves the den, instead disappearing into the walkway that leads towards her bedroom. Breathing a sigh of relief because that conversation is over, I once again place my book on my knees while trying to stop the voice in my head that says to creep towards the kitchen and listen in on their conversation.  

It takes almost a half-hour for the two of them to leave the kitchen, neither of them looking quite so happy when they do emerge. Destiny has a slight scowl on her glossed lips while Lucas just has that silent but angry look to his face.  

Feeling something in my chest tighten because I know it has to do with me, I silently remove myself from the sofa and then hurry up the stairs, eager to get my things out of his bedroom and back into the guest room. Maybe it won't be so bad if we don't sleep in the same bed. Sure I probably won't be able to sleep a wink, but at least my conscience will be clear. 

I've got my last thing from his room and am shutting his door when I hear his footsteps sounding on the hallway floor right behind me. Cursing silently to myself, I choose not to acknowledge his presence and just pray that he'll let me finish my mission in peace.  

But I know him better than that.  

He says in a sigh, "Naomi...you don't have to leave my room." 

I hesitantly turn around and see that he's eyeing my pillow distastefully, as if he doesn't like it the least bit, which is kind of weird seeing as how he shared it with me last night. When I woke up this morning, his face was so close to mine that it kind of freaked me out. But only in a good way.  

I say, "Yes I do. I should've known better than to sleep in there anyways." 

He frowns at me the moment that I say this, making me wonder if he's taken what I said as an insult towards him. Making sure that he doesn't get the wrong idea, I say, "You have a girlfriend, Lucas, and I'm putting a strain on that relationship just because I don't sleep well at night. That's not fair." 

"It is too fair," he urges, taking a step towards me and ripping my pillow out of my hands before I can even stop him. He holds it tightly to his chest and says, "Don't worry about Destiny, okay? We had a good thing going and we're not going to ruin it simply because she's a little bit insecure." 

I shake my head, loving that he wants me to stay and is willing to put up a fight for it, but knowing that this is such a wrong thing to do. Sure I get mad about her not liking that we're such close friends, but I can't blame her for hating that I'm sleeping in his bed. That's crossing a line even though we don't do anything but cuddle a little bit. I say, "I'm sleeping in your bed, Lucas, that's not okay." 

"Yes it is!" he argues, tucking the pillow underneath one arm so that he can grab at my hand with his other. He says, "It's very okay, Nay. You can't sleep at night and I know that being in there with me helps. I'm not going to have you sleep in a guest room when I know you wouldn't be able to sleep!" 

"Tell me what she said," I say seriously, knowing that this is probably just a recipe for disaster but not caring. Not only am I insanely curious to know what she said to him, maybe him repeating it will make him realize how stupid of an idea it is to have me keep sleeping with him. 

I can tell that his answer isn't going to be a good one, seeing as how that blazing determination he had a second ago has just seriously faded. He's quiet for a moment, obviously rehearsing in his head what he's going to say to me. About a minute later he tells me, "Nothing bad." 

"Really?" I ask him disbelievingly, crossing my arms over my chest. "It took you all that silence to come up with that?" 

He cracks a grin at me, "Shut up, jerk. But seriously, she didn't say anything bad." 

"I'll believe that when pigs fly," I tell him. "I saw the look she had when she saw me here and saw that I'd obviously been here a while. She was not happy." 

"Well she wasn't angry per say," he says, as if somehow or another trying to salvage things so that nothing comes of it. But something has already come of it. I've turned into some kind of, bed-sharing hussy and even though Destiny isn't number one on my favorite person's list, I don't want her to think of me that way. I can't be a slut to someone.  

So that's why I shake my head and, giving him a soft smile, and tell him, "I'll be fine, alright? Now I'm going to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." Without thinking twice, I reach up on my tip toes and press my lips to his warm, stubbly cheek, ignoring that fluttering feeling I get right in the pit of my stomach.  

When I pull away, it takes him a second to open his eyes and when he does; his eyes are doing that intense darkening thing that they did when, a while back, I thought that he was going to kiss me. But that deep look is gone as soon as it appeared, and when it is he leans away from me and murmurs his good night before turning around and disappearing into his bedroom. 

Letting out a deep breath that I hadn't even realized I'd been holding in, I go and finally finish my trek back into the guest room. I push open the door and flicker on the lights, taking in the fully made bed and the clothes that had been dirty but are now clean and folded into a neat pile on top of the dresser. Feeling an unexpected wash of love fall over me at how nice Mrs. Emma has been about my staying here, a light smile touches my lips. 

After I change into my pajamas and brush my teeth, I flicker the main lights off and then climb into bed and underneath the covers. I wriggle around and try to get warm, not yet used to not having a warm body lying right next to mine. It takes a few minutes and my putting a pillow next to me and squeezing it close, but I finally start drifting off to sleep. 

But right as I'm feeling the tightest pull from sleep's arms, the quiet sound of a bedroom door snaps me wide awake. I open my eyes and, peering over the pillow that I've used as a Lucas substitute, I see the real thing tiptoeing through the door and then shutting it softly being him. "What are you...?" I ask him drowsily, my voice not yet caught up. 

He slips in the bed next to me without saying anything, and then pulls the covers over his body. It's then that I feel him remove the pillow I'd been snuggling against and replace it with his own body, slinking his arm around my waist and pulling me close. He moves around for a few moments to get himself comfortable, and then I see a content grin spread across his lips. He whispers, "Maybe it's not only you who needs a sleeping buddy." 

I don't want to risk looking like a complete and total loser, so I fight the urge to grin like a maniac and do a happy dance at how happy he seems to be now that he's cuddling against me, so I just whisper back to him, "You're such a weirdo." 

"Ah..." he says chuckling, "But I'm your weirdo."