The Leaving Season by Cat Jordan Page B

studying.”
    â€œStudying what?”
    What did he care? “Chemistry.”
    â€œWaste of time. No one uses chemistry in real life.”
    I could feel my temperature rise. I threw off the covers and savored the cool air against my skin. “What do you want, Lee?”
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œYou texted me. Why?”
    â€œThat was two days ago.”
    â€œSo? What do you want?”
    He can be so bullheaded, I thought and then reminded myself, He’s not Nate. He wasn’t Nate’s brother or his dog or even his shadow. He was a loner whose only friend was dead.
    I swallowed hard. Whose only friend was dead. Oh god. Heartless. I was heartless. I softened my tone. “I have to go. I need to finish studying.”
    Lee cleared his throat, and his voice sounded phlegmy and thick. “Come outside.”
    â€œWhat? Now?”
    â€œYes. Now.”
    â€œIt’s after three. I’m not going anywhere.” I pulled the comforter back up and snuggled under it. There was no chance of me leaving this bed tonight, not until I’d gotten at least three hours of sleep. I turned over and readjusted the comforter. I was oh-so-cozy.
    But oh-so-curious.
    â€œWhy do you want me to come outside? I don’t smoke, you know,” I added.
    â€œWho said I wanted you to smoke anything?” He sighed as if he was disappointed in the world. Or at least me. “Maybe I have something you want to see.”
    â€œDoubt it.” I threaded a fraying nylon edge of my comforter through my fingers. “Just tell me.”
    â€œI can’t. I have to show you.”
    â€œLee—”
    â€œIt’s something Nate would want you to see.”
    I inhaled sharply and half sat up. “Don’t say that.”
    â€œWhat? Why not?”
    â€œBecause you can’t know what Nate would want and what he wouldn’t want,” I heard myself blurt out. I could feel tears sting my eyes and I blinked hard against them.
    â€œAnd you can?”
    â€œYes, I can.”
    He let the silence happen for a while.
    Damn. I was doing it again. Assuming things. Being selfish with Nate’s memory. “Fine, whatever,” I said. “Give me ten minutes.”
    â€œFive. I’m waiting outside.”
    I peered through the window and saw Lee standing in the middle of the yard. I tapped on the glass and pointed at him. “You look like a stalker!” I whispered into the phone. He slowly swiveled his head up toward me on the second floor; moonlight danced across his face. “Go wait down the street. I’ll be there in a minute.”
    I watched as he strode across the front lawn. Even his walk was different from Nate’s—slow and loose. Did I really confuse him with Nate the other day? How was that even possible?
    Five minutes more and I was creeping down the back staircase of our house. Past the driveway, about halfway down the block, Lee leaned against his scooter. I shiveredin the brisk air and crossed my arms over my chest as I approached him. He was wearing a lightweight Windbreaker and his hands were bare. “Okay, where is it?”
    In answer, he hopped on his scooter and waved me on.
    â€œExcuse me? No. You didn’t say anything about going anywhere .”
    â€œWhat I have to show you isn’t here. Get on. Or walk.” He shrugged.
    â€œIt’s three in the morning!”
    Lee started the engine. “Hold on to my waist.”
    I glanced back over my shoulder at the house, dark and sleepy, all buttoned up for the night. I had come this far; I supposed I could go a little farther. Rather than sitting sidesaddle like I’d done before, this time I swung a leg over the back of the seat; the leather instantly chilled my jeans. I held on to the bottom of it with both hands, but as Lee revved up, it was hard to stay upright.
    He leaned back against me and said again over his shoulder, “Hold on to my