I didn't see Michael for the rest of the week and there was no news from Graham, Connor, or James. It seemed Michael's mother was in the patch because she hadn't answered any time I knocked but the lights had been on every night.
With the exception of Michael's absence, school had been tolerable. Samantha's taste for attacking me seemed to have evaporated and everyone else was now too focused on prom to be concerned with ordinary bickering. Maria hung around her old friends but she looked as happy about this as she used to be in my company. She smiled and responded but when they were focused on themselves, she was staring into nothing.
Rumours were flying that she had been asked by five different guys to go to prom and had turned them all down. I didn't know how much faith to put in those rumours. They also claimed that she had dumped Michael and he was in the hospital for attempting to kill himself over it. For all I knew, he could be in the hospital, but it wouldn't have been a suicide attempt—Michael loved himself too much—and definitely not because of the girl he dumped.
I just could not figure out how to get him to reach out to me. I was fairly sure he was home. I had no support for such assumptions aside from the lights being on but it was better than assuming anything worse.
On Friday night, when Bran informed me yet again that he had no news about Michael, I decided I couldn't wait any longer. After Bran went home, I walked over to Michael's and banged on the door for a solid fifteen minutes. When my hand was too sore to continue, I announced I would stay on the step until he answered and if I died of hypothermia, it would be his fault.
I sat on the step and curled up against the doorframe. I wasn't going to give up this time.
Winter was over and, despite the heat of the days, summer was still far off. The temperature dropped quickly after sunset. Some rabbits poked out from under a bush across the street and milled about the lawns as they nibbled the grass. They had finally lost their white coats, though their browns did little to camouflage them against the grass. The sticky sounds of car tires on pavement came and went. Amongst the city lights, only the most determined stars were visible.
I pulled my sweater more tightly around myself. My hip ached and I had lost feeling in one butt cheek. I stayed. If Michael left for any reason, I would know.
My eyes fought against me. The cold tried to push me home. I refused any of their prodding. I pulled myself into a tighter ball as I pressed closer to the door.
When I heard the thunk of the deadbolt being turned, I looked up. The door opened and Michael was looking down at me. He seemed different. There was none of his usual mirth in his eyes. He crouched down so that he was nearly eye level with me.
"You should go home, Lu," he said.
I shook my head. "N-n-not until y-y-you tell m-m-me w-what's b-been going on." My teeth would not stop chattering. "I-I-I k-know you're n-not sick."
He looked down at the space between us. "Go home."
"No."
He sighed. "Lu, I'll carry you if I have to."
My anger had returned and was beginning to warm me. "Give me my stone back," I demanded with a jut of my chin.
He looked me right in the eyes. "No."
I lifted my hand to slap him but he grabbed my wrist with the ease of a martial arts master. I glared at him. "It's mine, Michael. You had no right to take it."
"No, I didn't, but I'm keeping it anyway," he shot back.
I ripped my hand free but did not ease my gaze. "You're keeping it? Is that why you've been missing at school? You've been past life masturbating?"
He didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled me by the wrist he still held and lifted me into a fireman's carry. No matter how much I flailed or yelled, it made no difference. I tried to wack him in the head but he ignored my assault. We were nearly at my front door when he stopped. I ceased my protests to look around.
Graham was standing at the end of the walk, a sword in his hand.
"Calm down, Graham," Michael said. "I'm just bringing her home."
Graham looked as confused as I felt that Michael not only knew who he was but also seemed unconcerned about a strange looking man holding a sword standing only feet away. Michael set me down. He looked at me for a moment. I could feel Graham watching us. "Lu, get some sleep." He turned and walked up to Graham as if he were asking a neighbour for some sugar. I took a step to follow but he stopped and glared at me with such force that I stayed where I was.
I couldn't hear what he said to Graham; he was careful to keep his voice low. Graham looked back at him with a tense jaw and said nothing. After another moment, he nodded and Michael walked back to his house.
Graham turned his attention back to me. His hand was still tight around the handle of his sword. Even the air had stopped moving around us. Michael was inside. We were now alone. Graham still did not look away. His mismatched eyes stayed frozen upon me. His fingers twitched on the handle of his sword and I backed up. I opened the door and slammed it behind me. Riley gave a protest bark from the bedroom and my mother groaned before resuming her snoring. I had barely gotten to my room when my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a text from Bran.
I'm coming over.
Graham was fast. No need, I typed back, then added, Michael's fine.
Are you fine?
I wasn't sure how to answer this. I was frustrated and confused about Michael. I needed to think... alone. No injuries.
Bran: Are you sure?
Me: Michael has the stone. Won't give it back. Won't explain.
Bran: Want me to talk to him?
Me: Good luck with that.
Bran: I'll try.
Me: I need sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Bran: To the end of my life.
I collapsed on my bed and buried my face in my pillow. Michael hadn't been forthcoming with me so there was no way he would confess anything to Bran. I needed some method to get that stone back. It would be the only way I could find out everything I needed to know. I just had no idea how I was going to do it.