brought Lex into the kitchen and plopped him into the highchair, strapping him in and settling the tray into place. The baby began to play with the toys affixed to the tray.
“Let’s hear it for a short attention span,” Xander muttered. He began to prepare the bottle. “So what do you think: Should I ask Riley to come by tonight?”
In his highchair, Lex kicked his feet.
“Yeah, I know,” said Xander, mixing in the formula. “I’m wrecked, and my head’s been all weird. Seriously weird. Like, losing time weird. Blacking out, Ted says. Thinks I’m drinking too much. I think he’s stupid. And he smells. Even so,” Xander said, screwing the bottle top into place, “maybe I should take it easy tonight. Maybe text Riley instead of make face-to-face plans. Go to bed early. What do you think?”
Lex banged on the highchair tray.
“Yeah, it’s hard for me to think on an empty stomach too.”
He gave Lex the bottle. Xander watched his brother drink, and he smiled, thinking about how sweet it must be to live in the now, to want only the basic comforts—food when hungry, warmth when chilly, a place to sleep—and not have to worry about friends hurting him and . . .
He blinked. Where had
that
come from?
Xander dug at the thought. Why would he think that one of his friends was hurting him? He remembered Suzie’s odd text, remembered Izzy’s conversation with him—well, no, he remembered part of it, something about how Izzy had heard shouting at the party—but that was it.
Wasn’t it?
Ted at his front door, looking exhausted and wane.
Xander frowned. Was there something about Ted . . . ?
Lex pushed away the bottle. “Bbbbbpbtt.”
“Yeah. I hear you.” Distracted, he burped his brother, and then cursed when the kid spat up all over his pajamas and Xander’s shirt. One of these days, he’d remember to get a bib on the baby.
After the third pajama change for the night, he got Lex settled into his crib. “Bedtime, kid,” said Xander. “When you’re a little older, we’ll talk about how to wheedle Mom and Dad into letting you stay up later. Love you. Sweet dreams.”
The baby blinked up at him. Xander couldn’t be sure because of the pacifier, but he thought Lex was smiling at him.
He turned on the baby monitor, then quietly walked out of the nursery and shut the door. He tiptoed his way to his bedroom and threw himself down onto the bed. He was exhausted. Taking care of a baby was hard! No wonder his parents went to bed practically at nine o’clock. And here he’d thought it was just because they were old.
He glanced at the clock—not even eight p.m.—and then he grabbed his cell phone. It was completely dead. With a sigh, he plugged it in. He really had to be out of it to forget to charge his phone.
There were seven texts waiting for him. Most were from Suzie, who wanted to know if he was all right. And one was from Izzy, wanting to know the same thing.
Xander stared at the texts, and he wondered what exactly had happened last night at Marcie’s party that had everyone so concerned about him.
Maybe he’d had more to drink last night than he’d thought. He hoped he didn’t do something completely stupid. As tempted as he was to ask Suzie or Izzy or Ted for details, he realized that he didn’t want to know.
Some things were better left forgotten.
He laughed uneasily. Talk about melodramatic. Ted would have been impressed. Smiling, shaking his head, he texted Riley.
Whatcha doing?
He hit Send and fired up a computer game while waiting for a response.
Three lives later, Riley still hadn’t texted back.
Xander checked on Lex, found the baby dead asleep, and then went back to his room. He thought about eating, but he had no appetite.
Riley still hadn’t gotten back to him.
Something dark and cold wormed its way into his brain, and he wondered yet again what had happened at the party last night. Did it have something to do with Riley?
A sound like a screech of
“Let’s hear it for a short attention span,” Xander muttered. He began to prepare the bottle. “So what do you think: Should I ask Riley to come by tonight?”
In his highchair, Lex kicked his feet.
“Yeah, I know,” said Xander, mixing in the formula. “I’m wrecked, and my head’s been all weird. Seriously weird. Like, losing time weird. Blacking out, Ted says. Thinks I’m drinking too much. I think he’s stupid. And he smells. Even so,” Xander said, screwing the bottle top into place, “maybe I should take it easy tonight. Maybe text Riley instead of make face-to-face plans. Go to bed early. What do you think?”
Lex banged on the highchair tray.
“Yeah, it’s hard for me to think on an empty stomach too.”
He gave Lex the bottle. Xander watched his brother drink, and he smiled, thinking about how sweet it must be to live in the now, to want only the basic comforts—food when hungry, warmth when chilly, a place to sleep—and not have to worry about friends hurting him and . . .
He blinked. Where had
that
come from?
Xander dug at the thought. Why would he think that one of his friends was hurting him? He remembered Suzie’s odd text, remembered Izzy’s conversation with him—well, no, he remembered part of it, something about how Izzy had heard shouting at the party—but that was it.
Wasn’t it?
Ted at his front door, looking exhausted and wane.
Xander frowned. Was there something about Ted . . . ?
Lex pushed away the bottle. “Bbbbbpbtt.”
“Yeah. I hear you.” Distracted, he burped his brother, and then cursed when the kid spat up all over his pajamas and Xander’s shirt. One of these days, he’d remember to get a bib on the baby.
After the third pajama change for the night, he got Lex settled into his crib. “Bedtime, kid,” said Xander. “When you’re a little older, we’ll talk about how to wheedle Mom and Dad into letting you stay up later. Love you. Sweet dreams.”
The baby blinked up at him. Xander couldn’t be sure because of the pacifier, but he thought Lex was smiling at him.
He turned on the baby monitor, then quietly walked out of the nursery and shut the door. He tiptoed his way to his bedroom and threw himself down onto the bed. He was exhausted. Taking care of a baby was hard! No wonder his parents went to bed practically at nine o’clock. And here he’d thought it was just because they were old.
He glanced at the clock—not even eight p.m.—and then he grabbed his cell phone. It was completely dead. With a sigh, he plugged it in. He really had to be out of it to forget to charge his phone.
There were seven texts waiting for him. Most were from Suzie, who wanted to know if he was all right. And one was from Izzy, wanting to know the same thing.
Xander stared at the texts, and he wondered what exactly had happened last night at Marcie’s party that had everyone so concerned about him.
Maybe he’d had more to drink last night than he’d thought. He hoped he didn’t do something completely stupid. As tempted as he was to ask Suzie or Izzy or Ted for details, he realized that he didn’t want to know.
Some things were better left forgotten.
He laughed uneasily. Talk about melodramatic. Ted would have been impressed. Smiling, shaking his head, he texted Riley.
Whatcha doing?
He hit Send and fired up a computer game while waiting for a response.
Three lives later, Riley still hadn’t texted back.
Xander checked on Lex, found the baby dead asleep, and then went back to his room. He thought about eating, but he had no appetite.
Riley still hadn’t gotten back to him.
Something dark and cold wormed its way into his brain, and he wondered yet again what had happened at the party last night. Did it have something to do with Riley?
A sound like a screech of
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