Page 2 of Raise Me Up

Or am I that unlovable?

Is that it? Is that the real reason I’m stuck here? No one else wants me? My mom clearly didn’t.

As I claw my way through a thick wall of hedges, the aggressive rumble of my dad’s muscle car fills the night. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m scared it’s going to break free from my chest.

My mom used to tell me that my dad wasn’t a happy person. Sometimes those bad feelings overflowed, and we just had to ride them out. She told me if we ever left him, he’d starve himself or drink until his organs shut down.

Those words haunt me every time I try to run away. I don’t want to be responsible for my dad’s death. But I don’t want him to hit me either.

Racing across yards, I see his rusted beige car blinking in and out of existence between houses and trees. He’s cussing and jabbing his finger in my direction.

Ihatehim. I hate how brittle he makes me feel. Like I’ve got paper bones. Like one strong gust of wind would crumple me.

I know I’m not going to outrun him, but I refuse to let him drag me back to hell tonight.

I need a better plan.

Pumping my arms and legs harder, I turn in the direction of the new kid’s house. I’d thrown the scrap of paper he’d given me in the trash at school, but I memorized his address. Almost like I knew I’d need him.

Will he be awake this late? Do I trust his kindness?

I don’t even care at this point. I’m so tired of being alone.

Climbing over the brick wall of a gated, wealthy neighborhood, I tumble into a freshly mowed yard. I do my best to stay away from cameras as I creep to the sidewalk.

A few streets in, the faint plucking of guitar strings reaches me. Lured by the melody, I hide behind a parked car. I peek around at two small figures in the dark sitting on the concrete steps off the side of a garage that could fit my entire house. The fancy gold numbers on the brick exterior match those in my memory.

Overwhelming relief rushes through me. I run toward them so fast, I scrape my toes on the curb. As I hiss in pain, two similar faces lift at the same time to look at me. I stumble to a halt.

I didn’t know Hail had a twin.

Blinking back at them in shock, I compare their soft features. He’s got lighter blonde hair and amber eyes, where his sister’s eyes are a richer, honey brown like the bourbon my dad sometimes drinks when he has extra money and doesn’t feel like paying the electric bill.

“Liam,” Hail whispers. “What are you doing here so late?”

Bloody toes curling into the grass, I struggle to form words. I hadn’t thought this far into my plan. What do I tell him? That my dad’s chasing me in his car because I forgot to feed his stupid addiction?

What if he comes here and hurts the only person who has ever wanted to be my friend?

“Hey.” Hail rests his Ibanez against the house and hurries over to me, all traces of his earlier sunshiny mood gone. “Are you alright?”

My gaze darts to his sister, still sitting on the stairs.Am I scaring her?That’s the last thing I want to do.

“Sorry,” I mumble, tears burning my eyes.

I should be over this crying shit.

Hail wraps a hand around my wrist. He doesn’t give me a chance to freak out over his touch, quickly pulling me into the garage. His sister follows on silent feet.

A shadow of him.

Instantly, I hate the thought. I hate that she seemslesspresent. Hate it because I know what it feels like to be invisible, too.

At least, until my dad loses his temper.

“Stas, can you take Liam upstairs? I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” Hail says.

I get stuck on the pronunciation of his sister’s name. An “ah” sound followed by a “z”. I repeat it in my head several times as Hail vanishes inside the house.