Silent (30 page)

He smiled.

“Thanks.”

I didn’t elaborate. He couldn’t possibly have understood that his silly behavior was taking me miles away from everything that had happened back in South Central. But I knew it wasn’t just because we
were
miles away that I felt almost…at peace. Seb gave me something to concentrate on—a reason to keep going. And I couldn’t explain that to him. Even if he
did
understand, it was too much pressure to put on his slender shoulders.

“Let’s walk for a bit,” I suggested as a bearded man in a white turban rushed past on roller skates, playing an electric guitar. Seb was up and after him in a second.

At this rate, I’d be chasing him all day.

The roller-skating hippie wove around a mass of people gathered to watch some sort of street show, and I finally caught up to Seb—but only because he’d stopped to see what all the commotion was about. His legs were longer than mine, and I had a feeling he could outrun me easily if he tried.

“I think they’re break dancers,” I whispered in his ear, though I couldn’t really see through the wall of people. “Who knew anyone still did that.”

Seb pushed forward, sliding through the crowd to get a better view.

“Seb,” I groaned, hitching up the backpack and going after him. Within seconds, though, my progress was blocked by a skinny white dude wearing impossibly tight pants, an impossibly tight t-shirt, and a shell necklace. I went to move around him but found my path
still
cut off, by a bigger white guy in a similar outfit. A woman with a stroller prevented me from backtracking, so I decided to go straight through the duo, even if I had to resort to a little shoving.

Except, there, once again, I was cut off—by two joined hands. The two white guys’ hands. Two grown men, holding hands, in a crowd of people in the middle of the Venice boardwalk on a warm southern California day.

I froze, darting my eyes around to see if anyone else had noticed. Nobody had. Or else they didn’t care, or were more interested in the people doing back flips and spinning on their heads to make a fuss.

A basket was passed around for money, causing the crowd to thin as people tried to skip out on the obligation. The movement finally allowed me to get close to Seb.

“Let’s go. We’re not gonna waste our money watching some guy do a flip, and I don’t feel like getting heckled.”

Seb bounced off eagerly, waiting for the next spectacle to catch his interest.

The handholding men also started to walk, a few feet in front of us, their fingers still entwined. I kept one eye on Seb to make sure he was near me, but the rest of my focus was on them. How long would they stay like that? Would anyone say anything? I knew not all places were like my home—not all places were
dangerous
—but I just hadn’t been around anyone so open before. And in a crowd, no less.

No one bothered them. A few pairs of eyes seemed to linger on them longer than they should, but Venice had so many other sights to offer—bodybuilders in speedos at the outdoor gym, pianists on the sidewalk, tons of shops and street vendors, and a homeless man building a dragon made of sand, complete with burning incense in its smoking nostrils. I guess gays in public didn’t really measure up to all that.

Seb darted off the path and into a shop selling figurines made of old car parts, and I rushed to follow. His delicate fingers floated over the shelves as he studied each creation.

Such nice fingers. The way they twitched when they fell back to his side almost made it seem like they were just…itching to be held.

Do it
, a voice said.

But what about my promise to Suzie?

How is holding hands breaking that promise?

It wasn’t, of course. It didn’t have to mean anything. And Seb liked holding my hand. If I ever wanted to do it, Venice Beach seemed like the place.

He tilted his head to the side, observing a rusty metallic Wall-E. My pulse raced as I drew closer to him.

The Alex I’d once been would never have considered this. And not just because it wasn’t safe. I’d had a reputation to maintain, and handholding didn’t really fit in with the whole ready-to-kick-ass image.

But I wasn’t that person anymore. I wasn’t sure
who
I was now, but I wasn’t him.

The backs of our hands touched, and I gradually slid my fingers around to lace them with his.

He didn’t look over.

“Just so I can keep track of you,” I said quietly. “This way, the next time you decided to run off, I’ll be coming along for the ride.”

He gently pulled me back into the sunshine, and a vein in my neck started to pulse. I kept my head still, but my eyes continued to scan our surroundings restlessly.

A family of Asian tourists stepped around us. A man walking a beagle passed to my right. A few children stopped to point at a nearby seagull stealing popcorn. None of them noticed our hands.

Slowly, I turned my focus away from the crowds and toward the feel of Seb’s fingers wrapped neatly around mine. Touching him like this in broad daylight was completely…mind-blowing. In a way it was like the highs I used to get from drugs—it even had that slight undercurrent of guilt beneath the floating pleasure. Some small part of me must’ve felt I was crossing a line best left uncrossed, but the rest of my heart was completely sold.

Strange, how one tiny point of contact with Seb could make me so happy.

We continued down the sidewalk, stopping to browse the vendor tables so that Seb could see and feel everything. Occasionally he’d tear away from my hand, but after satisfying his curiosity he always returned and thrust his fingers back into mine. I thought maybe I saw a few pairs of eyes narrowing on us with disapproval, but I didn’t know who the hell those people were, and I was pretty practiced at giving my own looks—looks that said
mess with me and you’ll fucking regret it.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to give those in a while, and I’d actually kind of missed it.

My own stomach was starting to demand something a little more substantial than fruit as we reached the end of Venice Beach, just at the point where the Santa Monica Ferris wheel could be seen in the distance.

Seb peeled off again and I followed him to a rickety table selling rocks and minerals, run by a redhead with matted dreads. She stood by patiently as Seb lifted and examined each stone.

“Seb,” I said gently. “Don’t pick stuff up. If you break it we’ll get in trouble.”

“Oh, no,” the woman interrupted. “It’s important for you to touch and feel the energy of the rocks. He can go right ahead.”

I raised an eyebrow at the odd comment and looked her over. She had on layers of cloth dresses and an old-fashioned military jacket, and behind the table there was a large camping backpack with several blankets and a sleeping bag attached.

“Your boyfriend seems most interested in the turquoise,” she pointed out as he lifted a blue stone. “Certain cultures consider it a stone of communication—it opens the channels so that love can flow more freely. It can do wonders for a relationship.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I responded immediately, but there wasn’t the right amount of defensiveness in my tone. Just longing, actually.

“You I picture more as a red jasper man.”

And you I picture as a freak who’s smoked one blunt too many.

I turned to Seb and whispered in his ear. “I’ll buy you something when we have more money, okay? But we can’t really waste what we have right now.”

He put the stone down.

The lady didn’t seem all that disappointed by the loss of her potential sale. “Come back some time—I’m pretty much always here. If I get a hold of any red jasper, I’ll save it for you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I put a hand on Seb’s shoulder to lead him away, but stopped when an idea struck me. “Hey, are you homeless?”

She pushed a dreadlock off her shoulder. “I choose not to live by social norms in a four-walled structure at the moment. I commune much better with my inner spirit when I am free of those restraints.”

“And when you’re free of bills you can’t pay,” I added. She scowled.

“If you’re here to pester me, you can beat it, kid. I might be homeless, but I have plenty of friends here and some of them would be willing to escort you away by force. Or I could just call the cops.”

I grinned at how quickly her whole mystical mumbo-jumbo attitude had disappeared. “Nah. Actually, I just had some questions…like where do you stay around here?”

Her eyes narrowed on my backpack and wrinkled clothes. “You guys runaways or something?”

I didn’t answer.

She sighed. “My suggestion for you would be to find some place away from the beach itself, and somewhere you can’t be seen from the main road. Maybe a vacant storefront—there’s a few of those up Lincoln. They usually have big planters and stuff you can set up behind. Stay out of the cop’s way, ’cause you guys are minors and they’ll probably pick you up in a heartbeat. Oh, and you’ll need blankets. There’s an army surplus store a couple blocks north. Get some of those green flannel ones.”

I was still in the sunshine, and there was only a slight ocean breeze, so there was no explaining the chill her words gave me. In just a few short hours, Seb and I would be facing our first night out on the streets.

“Well…uh, where are you going to go?”

I hadn’t meant to sound so pathetic, as though I was willing to follow this woman I’d just met like a lost little puppy. I just wanted a more concrete plan of action.

“Listen, hon, you should probably go home. He looks a little delicate and sleeping out here…isn’t always as fun as it seems.”

“We don’t have a home.”

She shook her head sadly. “I guess good luck, then. And hey, at least you have each other.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. And she was right. Things weren’t that bad, because I still had Seb.

I grabbed his hand. “C’mon. Let’s get going, maybe try to find a place like she said. And I’m gonna take you out for the best dinner a dollar can buy, just as soon as we find a McDonalds.”

He smiled.

~*~

The sun set and a starless night replaced it, but we kept walking up Lincoln Boulevard. I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for, but at least looking gave me something to do. Pretty soon, though, we’d have to set up camp, or risk drawing attention from the cops.

“How ’bout here?” I pointed to a strip mall with a
For Lease
sign. Three large columns held up a covered walkway, and some bushes also blocked the view. “Seems like we could hide around there and be out of sight.”

He nodded and we jumped over the chain blocking the empty parking lot. I pulled out the blankets we’d bought to set on the ground behind a column. “All right then…let’s get…uh, comfortable.”

The makeshift beds didn’t offer much promise of that, but Seb plopped straight into his, tucking the covers around himself.

I followed more slowly and leaned my head back against a concrete wall. “Tomorrow maybe we’ll see about a hostel or something. Although that lady was right—we’ll have a problem ’cause we look under eighteen. We should think about getting fake IDs.”

Seb yawned.

“If you get cold or anything, you can get…closer.”

I tried to scoot nearer to him and winced. “Damn, I really gotta take a piss. Shouldn’t have had so many free refills.” Standing, I peered around in search of a place to relieve myself. “Guess I’ll go down an alley or something.”

A sudden noise caught my attention, and I turned to see a group of girls in leotards exiting the building to my left. I’d thought it was just an office space, but now I could make out a small plastic banner on the side—
Diana’s Dance Academy.

“Hey.” I tapped Seb’s shoulder. “You wanna check out this place over here? Maybe they have a bathroom.”

Seb got up, taking our blankets with him and shoving them into the backpack.

“Cool. Wasn’t really tired, anyways. It’s too early for bed.”

We waited until the dancers had scattered and then snuck up to the studio. After climbing the stairs, I could see the space actually
was
an office building, converted into rooms for different dance classes. The first door was closed and locked, but the second had mirrors and a ballet bar. The third I stopped and stared at for a while, because while it had the mirrors and the ballet bar, it also had a deep couch with silk pillows along the back wall, and stripper poles dotting the floor. A lady in a crop top and leggings was gathering up CDs and resetting audio equipment in the corner.

“Huh,” I whispered to Seb, “I never thought of strippers having to learn how to dance, but I guess it makes sense.”

Someone left the ballet studio and closed the door firmly before exiting the building. I had a feeling that room was now locked.

Seb pointed to a restroom at the end of the hallway and we hurried in so I could finally empty my bladder. He sat up on the sink counter to wait, and for some reason I turned away from him shyly, trying to keep my body from his view.

“So, I got an idea.” I started babbling to cover my nerves. “I mean, it’s sorta a long shot…and maybe a little old school…but what if we like sneak back to that room and shove something in the door? Y’know, to stop it from locking. Then we can hide out in here and wait till everyone leaves…and we won’t have to sleep outdoors.”

I shook myself dry and zipped up. “You in?”

He reached over to grab a paper towel, then crumpled it into a ball.

“Perfect.”

The woman wasn’t in the room anymore when I returned, but the door was still open. As quickly as I could, I walked by and shoved the wad of paper towel into the lock. Then I scrambled back to the restroom.

“C’mon. Into the stall.” I pulled Seb in and helped him step onto the toilet seat with me. “I’m not sure how long we should wait…maybe half an hour? Looked like all the classes were ending. I doubt they’d be starting any new ones this late.”

We sat on the tank, though it was a tight squeeze. I had to put my arm around him to keep my balance.