Tonight, my father had yelled at me for two hours about my “attitude.” Tonight, my chest felt like a clenched fist. I couldn’t sleep. So I did what I always did when the walls felt too close: I slid my window open, swung one leg over the sill, and dropped onto the old oak branch that stretched between our houses.
He was perched on his own roof, one knee drawn to his chest, a cigarette burning between his fingers even though he couldn’t have been older than me. The moonlight hit his face—sharp jaw, dark eyes, a small scar cutting through his left eyebrow. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the sky, like he was waiting for something to fall.
That’s when I saw him.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that was a lie. End of Part 1.
“Sure.” He took a drag from the cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke that curled up like a question. “Then why are you out here at two a.m., Lena?” My Neighbor-s Son PART 1 - Jack Radley Rafael...
“You’re the girl from 42,” he said. His voice was low, rougher than I expected. “The one who pretends not to stare.”
He knew my name.
So I ignored him.
“Bad night,” I admitted.