The Truth about Us Page 5

  Flynn drags his hand through his hair, moving his long bangs from his eyes. “So, what’d you do to get ‘sentenced’ to this place?” He throws the question back at me.

  Kyle stares up at me with his big eyes. “Were you bad?” he asks.

  “Well. Sort of,” I tell Kyle. All three of them stare at me, waiting to hear more, but I won’t say anything else about it. I’m humiliated already. I don’t need to overshare.

  “Well. Tough break for you,” Flynn says after a pause. “Being punished by working here.” He rubs the back of his neck without looking at me and turns away. “You see Stella around?” he says to Wilf. “She wants me to fix something in her office.”

  I watch him dismiss me. It bothers me, what he thinks about me. Even if it might be kind of true. I can’t explain it, but I want him to like me. “But you do volunteer here too?” I ask, trying to sound polite, glancing at the ladder he folded up.

  His eyes flash when he turns back. Anger sparks from them. “No. I help out. Big difference.”

  Wilf clears his throat and coughs. “Okay, Flynn. Stella’s probably in her office. You want to leave Kyle here so you can get your work done?”

  Flynn shakes his head. “Kyle can come with me, right, buddy?”

  “I’ll stay,” he says. He steps closer to me and reaches for my hand. His is small and trusting inside mine. “Sometimes I’m bad too,” he whispers. I’m like a stick of butter in the heat the way my heart melts for the little guy. I want to hug Kyle and take him home. I think I’ve just fallen in love.

  “You sure?” Flynn says to him. “You can help me. Maybe even use the hammer?”

  “No.” Kyle uses his whole body to shake his head. “Want to stay here.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Wilf tells him.

  Flynn runs his hand through his hair and stares at me. I can’t look away, but he doesn’t have the same problem. He turns to leave. “I’ll come and get you when it’s lunchtime, dude. Behave, okay?” he says to his brother.

  Kyle ignores him and tugs on my hand. “You’re pretty,” he says to me, and my cheeks warm. Flynn mumbles under his breath as he frowns and marches out of the greenhouse.

  “Well, that was painful to watch,” Wilf grumbles as he puts the water bottle and towel down. “Awkward as hell. I’d never go back to my teen years.”

  I want to stomp on his foot. “Oh my God,” I say to him. “Please don’t speak.”

  “You shouldn’t say the Lord’s name in vain,” Kyle tells me. He’s frowning. “It’s a commandment.” He points at Wilf. “And you swore.” He looks back to me. “He swears a lot. My mom says he should have soap in his mouth.”

  “You’re right,” I say to Kyle. “He should. You’re pretty smart for a little guy.”

  “Not little. I’m five,” he tells me.

  “Big,” I say. “Like totally huge.”

  He grins at me, and he’s so adorable, my heart swells some more. I look back to Wilf. He’s staring at us.

  “You’re good with kids?” he asks.

  I frown at him. “Shouldn’t I be?”

  “Maybe it changes my opinion of you a little, that’s all.” He reaches his hand out to poke his finger in another pot.

  “Which was what?” I ask.

  He chuckles but ignores me.

  “He thinks you’re pretty,” Kyle offers.

  “Ha! You’re paying attention,” Wilf tells Kyle and walks closer. “A girl who likes plants and children can’t be as bad as she seems,” he tells him.

  That’s definitely a backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one, but I lift my chin a little.

  “And so you know, Flynn hates feeling like a charity case,” he tells me. “It’s kind of a sore spot. That’s why he helps out. He’s a hard worker. He’ll do better things one day.”

  “Ugh” is all I can say, thinking of Flynn and the way he looked at me.

  “My dad took all our money and left us. My mom works a lot,” Kyle tells me solemnly.

  I look down at him. “Yeah? My dad has stinky farts,” I tell him. “And my mom sleeps a lot.”

  Kyle stares at me and then starts to laugh and laugh.

  Wilf raises an eyebrow. “Kyle,” he says to the little boy and points at a table across the room. “You run over there and get me a water pitcher. The yellow one. It’s heavy, so be careful,” he grumbles.

  Kyle scoots off.

  “You have a thing for him?” Wilf asks. “And I mean the older one.”

  “No!” I stand straighter. “I barely know him.” There’s a tingling in my stomach though, and when I look up, Wilf is staring at me.

  “Rhea always said I had a sixth sense for stuff like that. It’s what made me such a good lawyer.”

  I glare at him, almost telling him my dad is a lawyer and a jerk too but say nothing instead.

  “Flynn and his family are good people,” Wilf says. He bends down and picks at the leaves of a plant growing up from a pot on the ground. “Kyle’s dad gambled. Spent everything and then some and took off and left her with his debt. Her house foreclosed, and they moved into a grubby old rental in town. She works at a bakery and struggles to keep up with bills and the rent. They come for meals so that the boys eat properly. Especially Kyle.”

  I swallow and nod and stare down at my feet, which seem to be shuffling around on their own.

  “The people here all have stories. Remember that. Flynn’s not a charity case.”

  I look up and nod again.

  “Probably won’t hurt a girl like you, seeing life on the other side.”

  I shift my feet again, wanting to argue about what kind of girl I am, but it’s kind of pointless.

  “Good job, kiddo,” he says to Kyle, who has returned with a jug of water that’s slopping over the sides. “I have some things to look after,” he says to me. “Would you be okay looking after Kyle?” he asks. I glance around as if he might be talking to someone else.

  “Uh, sure,” I manage.

  “You can take him to help in the kitchen,” Wilf says. “His mom works in a bakery, and Kyle can help cut pies as long as he uses a butter knife.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I tell him, even though I don’t want to leave the safety of the greenhouse.

  Wilf glances down at Kyle. “You look after this one,” he says, gesturing his head at me. “She’s new around here. She doesn’t know the rules.”

  Kyle’s eyes open wider and he nods his head up and down.

  “You want me to look after your train?” Wilf asks. “So you don’t lose it while you’re working?”

  Kyle stares at him and then down at Thomas. “Promise you won’t lose him?”

  “Promise,” Wilf says. “I’ll bring him back to you at lunchtime.”

  Kyle hands the train over and then slips his little hand inside mine. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll take you to the kitchen.” We walk hand in hand out into the sunshine and then up the steps to the main building.

  “My favorite five-year-old came to help in the kitchen?” Sunny asks when we reach the kitchen. She’s at a counter, cutting up cakes. She barely looks at me.

  “Can I cut cakes?” He stares up at her with big, worshipful eyes.

  Something like jealousy roams around in my belly. I’m selfish and kind of want this little guy’s worshipping all to myself.

  “Go wash up,” Sunny says. Kyle drops my hand and runs toward the dishwashing sink. My empty hand feels cold. “You’ll wanna do something too, I suppose?” she says to me.

  She doesn’t like me much, that’s for sure. I don’t like her either, and I don’t really want to help, but there isn’t much choice. That’s why I’m here. “I’ll help Kyle?” I ask.

  She sighs, long and heavy, and I fiddle with the bottom of my shirt.

  “Go wash up.”

  When I get
back, Kyle is beside her, watching her finish cutting up a pie.

  “Where’d you get all the baked stuff?” I ask.

  “Day-olds. Grocery stores donate the stuff that doesn’t sell before the best-before dates.” She laughs to herself when she sees the look on my face. “Don’t turn your nose up, missy. There’s nothing wrong with them. Nothing wrong with the people who come here either. They all have stories,” she says, echoing Wilf.

  Kyle nods. “I have stories too. Like the one where Thomas the Tank Engine wanted to be a bigger engine.”

  I can’t help but smile. Sunny scowls at me but gently puts Kyle up on a stool, hands him a butter knife, and a pushes an old chocolate cake toward him with a stack of plates. He slowly digs his knife into the top and she shows him how thick to make each piece. Then she goes off and fetches me an apron and a hair net, and I swallow my pride and put it on my head. She fires out instructions to me, explaining the proper way to cut and which plates to put pies on and which plates to put cakes on.

  “Can you two finish these up?” she asks. There’s about a dozen or so cakes and pies left on a cart.

  I nod.

  “Good. I’ll go and make myself useful somewhere else.” She ruffles Kyle’s hair, frowns at me, and then leaves. While we work, Kyle chatters on, telling me all about Thomas the Tank Engine and his friends. It’s easier than I thought to slice up the desserts, and I’ve done them all by the time Kyle finishes off his first one.

  “Awesome job, dude,” I tell him. His hands are covered in chocolate. He licks his fingers, and then we clean up at the sink. We take off our aprons and throw them in the laundry basket, and I throw out my hairnet. I’m not sure what to do next, so I take Kyle’s hand, and we find our way back to Stella’s office. She’s not in there, and neither is Flynn.

  I have to use the washroom, so I tell Kyle to stay in the office and walk out, trying to retrace my steps and find it. A toddler runs past me as an older woman yells at her to stop. I dart after her and catch the little girl, leaning down and grabbing her gently under her arms. She screams and fusses, but I calmly hold her and wait for the older lady to reach us and hand her over.

  “My grandchild,” she says.

  I smile and go off to find the washroom. I take a wrong turn on the way back to the office and have to double back again to find Stella’s office. When I open the office door, my eyebrows arch up.

  It’s empty.

  “Kyle?” I call.

  There’s no answer. My heart pounds a little quicker. “Kyle?” I call again. I bend down and look under the desk, but he’s not there. The most logical explanation is that Stella came to the office and took him, but I pace, tapping my fingers on my chin, and then hurry out of the office to look around the main room. I head back to the kitchen. No sign of him. Or Stella.

  “You seen Stella?” I call to Sunny.

  “I saw her in the basement,” she says. “Where’s Kyle?”

  I ignore her, but my worry begins to fester as I walk down the dingy halls to the basement. Stella’s in the sorting room. She’s talking to a gray-haired woman about the shortage of underwear for men. Kyle isn’t with her.

  “Stella?” I say, not wanting to be rude, but I’m getting kind of panicky. “Do you have Kyle?”

  Her gaze snaps over to me, and she glances down at my empty hands. “What do you mean, do I have Kyle? Flynn said he left him with you in the greenhouse.”

  My face flushes at the mention of Flynn. And the possibility that I have lost his little brother. “Where’s Flynn?” I ask.

  “He went outside to fix a picnic bench. He said Kyle was with you.”

  “Wilf sent us to cut cakes. And we did, but then I had to go to the washroom. So I left him in your office. I got kind of sidetracked by a little girl, and then I got slightly lost.” I glance around, as if he’s going to pop up somewhere in the room. “When I got back to the office, he was gone.”

  “Dear mother of God,” Stella mumbles and darts past me, out of the sorting area. “It took you less than an hour to lose a five-year-old boy?”

  My face burns, and I swallow an insta-lump in my throat.

  “Where would he go?” I ask as I hurry behind her.

  “We have to find him immediately,” she says. “The lunch crowd will be arriving soon.”

  I close my eyes and struggle to take a deep breath. My heart is pounding, and there’s a strip of sweat on my upper lip. She moves surprisingly fast for a woman of her size, and I hurry up the stairs behind her. She opens the door that leads outside to the back of the building. “Flynn was over there,” she says and points.

  There’s no sign of him.

  We hurry back toward the office but he’s not there, and we move to the dining area. Flynn’s inside, carrying a bench. I sprint past Stella to reach him. “Flynn,” I say, breathing fast and hard. “I can’t find Kyle.” I swallow a lump and hold in tears. Each one represents something different. Fear. Worry. Guilt.

  He blinks, puts the bench down, and scratches his head as he registers my words. “What?”

  “He was in Stella’s office. I went to the bathroom…” The reality of the situation kicks in, and my eyes burn with the fluids trying to escape.

  “Where have you looked?”

  I tell him, and Flynn takes off running. I follow behind him.

  “I’ll get everyone looking,” Stella calls as we race out of the dining room.

  Kyle is nowhere in sight.

  chapter six

  How can this be happening? I can’t catch my breath.

  “You look in the kitchen. I’ll look in the art room,” Flynn calls.

  I race to the kitchen. More volunteers are around now. There’s a man stirring a huge pot of soup and lining bowls on a table in front of him. People wander around, each doing a task. Some are tossing big bowls of salad, and others are putting sandwiches on a platter. A few older women are filling pitchers up with orange juice.

  “Has anyone seen a little boy?” I yell and hold my hand in the air where his head would come to. “Kyle?” I realize I don’t even know his last name. “He has black hair. He’s wearing jeans and a blue Thomas the Tank Engine shirt.”

  A few people look over, but they all shake their heads. I keep moving, my eyes scanning. I go through the kitchen back to the dining room, where the tables await guests who will be arriving soon. I scan the room from left to right, but there’s no sign of him.

  I run toward the entrance of the building, past a security guard who’s manning the door. Guests are already beginning to line up in the hallway and out into the street. I run back inside to the women’s washroom and peer below the door in each stall. Nothing. I rush back out and run into the men’s room and do the same thing.

  “Kyle?” I call. My voice is shrill and high. My hands are shaking. I run to the other side of the dining room where there’s a stage. On it, there’s a microphone on a stand. A couple of men are standing behind it, talking. I speed toward the stage and run up the stairs.

  “We have a lost boy!” I shout at the men. “Kyle. I was watching him for Flynn.” My face burns. My heart is ready to explode right from my chest. I should have found someone to look after him while I went to the washroom. I didn’t know kids could slip out and disappear so quickly, even when you told them not to.

  One of the men nods and steps up to the microphone. “Attention, please. We have a lost little boy. Kyle Carson. He’s five. Brown hair.”

  I glance around the room and see Flynn. The panic on his face as he runs toward the stage makes me want to pass out.

  “Everyone in the building, please search the area around you,” the man says over the mike.

  “What the hell?” Flynn says to me when he reaches the foot of the stage. “Where the hell did he go?” He runs up the stairs and grabs a hold of my arm. Hard. “Where did he go?”

 
My heart freezes, yet somehow a hot tear drips down my cheek. I shake my head, my lips tight. I have no answer. What were we all thinking, leaving me in charge? I’m not cut out for caring for myself properly, never mind a child.

  A buzz travels through the crowd outside the building as the guests discuss what’s going on inside, and someone asks if lunch is going to be late. I close my eyes and try to breathe. We have to find him. I have to find him. There’re bad people in this world. I know that for a fact.

  “For God’s sake,” Flynn says to no one in particular. “Where the hell is he?”

  I’m ready to throw up or run away myself. What can I do? I think of my dad’s words. “You can’t always hide away from your trouble,” he says. Not even ironically, as if he doesn’t notice that everyone in my family has gone into hiding.

  Hiding.

  I remember the story my mom used to tell. From when I was a kid. Hiding in closets. I run off the stage and hurry through the dining room and into the kitchen. I keep running and don’t stop until I reach Stella’s office. I pull open the first cupboard level with the ground. Nothing. I pull open the next. Nothing. I run to the closet and take a deep breath. And then I open that one.

  chapter seven

  Kyle’s curled up in a ball on the floor. Sleeping.

  The what-ifs I’ve been holding back rush into my brain, and I sink to my knees.

  “Kyle?” I say. His eyes open and he smiles at me, his little face innocent and sweet.

  “Are you crying, Jess?” he asks.

  “Kyle Carson,” a voice yells from behind me. Flynn races to the closet and stares down at the two of us on the ground. “You scared the living shit out of us,” he says.

  Kyle looks up at him with huge eyes. “Flynn, you swore,” he says.

  I can’t stop. It’s as if a dam has been opened in my head, and I can’t shut it off. I sniffle and sit on the floor, crying like a big old baby. I’m not sure it’s even about Kyle after a while.

  Flynn kneels down beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay. He’s okay.”