NOTE: Tune in for this week's emotional rollercoaster of a chapter of BOY KING! kaelking12 did an amazing job with this chapter & we hope you have as much listening as we did recording :)!

https://youtu.be/VWHIk1E0XRc

CHAPTER 36

Lacey

There are people who live to hide their darkness.

People like my mother.

People like me.

We carry our brokenness close to our bones.

Keep our ugliest secrets from reaching the surface as a matter of survival and necessity.

We are terribly desperate to outrun ourselves and our histories.

We try our best to bury our shadows.

But Elias's father is draped in them.His darkness lives right on the surface—seeping through his billboard smile and dripping off the threads of his expensive suit.

Malcolm King has the kind of presence that refuses to go unnoticed. Even my dad's pointed him out on the fancy ads plastered around San Diego every time we pass one. I don't know what it is about the appearance of money and power that blinds people to the reality of a person's character.

But now that he's standing inches away from me, I realize the reason for his success. The posters make him look accomplished. Trustworthy. Honest.

His posters are made of lies.

"My goodness, I'm sorry I startled you, young lady. If I'd known my son was expecting such a beautiful guest, I would've come better prepared. I don't believe we've met. I'm Malcolm. Malcolm King. And you are?"

Mr. King unearths his hand from the inside of his silk-lined pocket and extends it to me. His nails are neatly clipped. Cut down just below the cuticle to appear almost harmless. But only almost. 

The red crescent grooves littered along in the skin of Elias's neck scream louder than the bruises surrounding them. It's been a week, and they still look fresh. Fresh enough to spur a number of serious conversations if any of our teachers were to see them.

Especially Mr. K.

Part of me wishes he were standing here with us. He's strong enough to stand up for Elias. Strong enough to call out his father for trying to groom away his secrets.

I'm barely strong enough to speak.

But I have to. I want to.

For him.

"I'm Lacey. Elias and I have science together. He missed a lot of assignments this week so I volunteered to drop by and make sure he had all the materials."

"That's very considerate of you, Ms. Lacey. My son is lucky to have such a responsible classmate. Maybe you could teach him a few things about accountability."

Mr. King's razor blue eyes cut over to Elias and linger on him just long enough for me to read the resentment between the lines. Elias immediately steps backwards out of his father's sight, out of the line of fire. His body's rigid, constricted, like he's bracing for a hit he's learned to expect. 

I've seen so many of his colors lately. Different sides of him that paint a new picture of him in my heart and mind each time they appear. Sometimes, Elias is the unsure boy who sat next to me in science class. Other times, he's a nervous younger brother, a self-assured "it" boy, or a loving son. But right now he is someone I don't recognize. Someone small, terrified, and speechless. A target. A victim. A boy who suddenly seems night and day different from the person I know him to be.

I've been through enough therapy sessions to know all the textbook ways trauma changes people. I've looked in the mirror enough times to understand how it's changed me. But I never thought I'd have to see it in another person. And I never wanted to see it in him.

My heart responds to the situation before common sense has the chance to step in and stop me. I step sideways until I'm standing between Elias and his father. My whole body's trembling, but I swallow down the urge to shrink into myself like always. I know this isn't my place. Or my business. I know Elias and his family are entitled to their secrets. But Malcolm King isn't entitled to destroying his son.

I've seen what happens when ugly words wheedle their way inside of a person and are left to fester there. I've watched bad intentions tear entire worlds apart and right now, Elias's is crumbling. I may not be enough to stop the sky from caving in, but maybe I can hold some of the pieces in place. Maybe I can be a safe place in the middle of a storm.

"Actually, Elias i-is—very responsible, Mr. King. He took care of me when I got hurt in class. He even made a promise to be there for me when I needed him last Friday, but he—"

"Last Friday, he was—preoccupied. I'm sorry you two weren't able to meet up, but family matters take priority in this house. Isn't that right, Eli?"

I glance over at Elias and find him blankly staring holes into the floor. A new kind of quiet is holding him hostage. Not the endearingly familiar kind he falls into whenever he's carefully choosing his words or working his way through the awkward pauses in our conversations. 

This silence is oppressive. Intrusive. Wrapped tightly around his muscles. Crushing the strength out of his shoulders. Creating a void where his confidence should be.

I try searching for signs of the spark I saw in his eyes back at the dinner table, but he won't look at me. He's not looking at anyone or anything aside from the stain of his father's shadow spreading across the welcome mat.

A full minute passes in total silence until Mr. King clears his throat to take control of the conversation again. Elias startles at the sound.

"What's wrong, kiddo? Don't tell me your pretty little friend here has you tongue-tied? That's quite a sight to see. She's different from the other ones you sneak in, isn't she?"

Elias lets out a slow heavy breath and then forces himself to step forward. Closer to me. Closer to his father. We brush shoulders as he passes, but that little bit of contact is enough to communicate the chaos kicking around inside him. 

My eyes trail over the stiff angle of his shoulders, the rigid tension in his arms, and the tightness pulsing through his fists. I have never been afraid of Elias before. I never had a reason to be. But right now, I'm afraid of his brokenness. Of the potential his father has to see through his paper-thin bravado and shatter him to pieces without any effort at all.

So I act.

Recklessly.

Unconsciously.

I reach for his hand and wrap my fingers around a fist that's hot to the touch. Elias turns around to face me—cheeks flushed, eyes burning with the beginning of tears. 

The first time I saw him, I made the mistake of assuming he had the whole world in his back pocket. He was completely beautiful to me. Tall, dark-haired, silently strong. Gentle but unbreakable. He walked, talked, and smiled like someone who knew where he belonged. Like someone who effortlessly fit in.

I used to think that I was the only person who felt like a wanderer. Like someone who couldn't find steady ground to stand on anywhere. But looking at Elias now, I see so many of the same struggles. I see the same confusion of being caught between two worlds he can't seem to find a home in. 

So I pull him into mine.

I run my fingers across the knuckles of his fist until all the tension melts away. He blinks once. Twice. A hundred times before his eyes flutter down to our hands and the warmth spreading between them.

I lace my fingers through his as a matter of survival. As a matter of necessity. For him. For me. For the two of us.

"Elias, mírame." (Look at me.)

The words barely break past my lips, but he hears them. His eyes slowly find their way to mine, but they're racing.

"I'm sorry. He-h-he shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here. Not around someone like him—"

"And you shouldn't either. ¿Quieres salir de aquí?" (Do you want to get out of here?)

He shuts his eyes and nods a handful of tears down onto his t-shirt.

"Please."

I breathe out the last of my hesitation and break into a sprint with Elias trailing steps behind me. We breeze past his father, past walls of frustration, confusion, and fear, and we run like our feet are miles above the pavement. 

We run through his backyard and over to the worn wooden steps leading down to the waterfront. Elias stops me inches away from the top of the stairs, walks out in front of me, and drops to the ground in front of my feet.

"Elias, what are you—"

"Take these off, and get on."

He tugs at the laces of my Chucks until they come loose in his hands. I do as he says and cautiously step out of my shoes and socks, one foot after the other. Elias does the same and then turns his back to me, still crouched in the grass.

"Ven aquí, te voy a llevar."(Come here. I'll carry you.)

My face heats up to the point where I'm silently thankful that Elias can't see it.

"It's okay. I'm not exactly the lightest person, and I don't want you to hurt your back or anything. It's nice of you to offer, but you really don't have to."

"I want to. You carried me out of a bad situation back there. I'm just returning the favor."

His voice comes out smaller and more fragile than I expect it to, but I don't ask questions. Instead, I listen, let go of my reservations, and wrap my arms around his neck. Elias picks me up easily—like I'm one of those stick thin girls I see in the movies instead of the person I see in the mirror. His hands are strong and warm against my thighs. The heat from his fingertips spreads even further than his reach.

I lean into his back as we descend the stairs in silence trying my best to understand him through the quiet. I hold him through the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders. Through the silent sobs he's trying his best to hold back. It's all I can do. It's all I know how to.

I just hope it's enough.

Elias carries me a little ways until we reach the shoreline. As soon as he places me down, he walks up to the edge of the water and stares out over the waves. I wait a few seconds before approaching him, but once I do, he's quick to wipe whatever's left of water and salt out from underneath his eyes. He sucks in a long breath and sighs out into the ocean breeze.

"So, life sucks," He says, almost casually.

I smile to take the edge off.

"It does. But not all the time."

Elias whispers out a laugh.

"Yeah, well, my dad sucks all of the time. I'm sorry you had to see that. He wasn't supposed to—I didn't know he was coming back. If I had, I wouldn't have—"

"It's okay. My family's not exactly picture perfect either."

Elias gently grips the back of his neck and tries to massage out the tension.

"Lacey, look I—"

His voice catches in his throat.

"—I'm sorry—about everything. I obviously don't come from the best home, and I didn't mean to throw you in the middle of our problems. My dad's a dick. My mom can get a little carried away with things and I—I'm sorry if I said anything to offend you earlier. I forget myself sometimes and it kinda seemed like I said something that rubbed you the wrong way back in the house."

I was hoping he hadn't noticed. He notices more than I give him credit for.

"You don't need to apologize, Elias. You didn't do or say anything wrong. Actually, I had such a good time with you and your mom, I started thinking about mine. I miss dinners like that. I miss a lot of things about her actually."

"Like what?"

The gold flecks in Elias's eyes catch the sunlight when he turns to look at me. He leans in so I know he's listening and gives me all of his attention. So I give him most of the truth.

"My mom—she, uh, passed away not too long ago. It's not something I really talk about with anyone, but—I thought you should know."

Elias drops his gaze toward the sand and whispers something to the wind under his breath.

"Lacey, I'm—you know what I'm not even gonna say 'I'm sorry' because it's not enough, and it never is. You've probably heard enough 'I'm sorrys' to know that shallow apologies are bullshit. Honestly, all of this is. You deserve better than what happened to your mom. You deserve better than life sucking as much as it does. You deserve to smile and laugh whenever you want without needing permission from anybody. You deserve—"

His eyes finally find their way back to mine and somewhere behind all that wild green, a spark's fighting its way back to the surface.

"—you deserve the best of everything."

A new kind of smile blooms on my lips so fast I don't even have the chance to fight it.

"You know something, Eli?"

"What?"

"You're good with firsts. Today, is full of them for me. You say and do things nobody else has. Maybe it's a super power?"

He laughs, from the heart this time.

"Could be. Or maybe it's something about you."

His sudden closeness and reckless stare catch me off guard so I do what awkward girls do around beautiful boys and try to change the subject.

"Or maybe it's something in the air. It is spring after all—"

I glance back up only to find that somehow in the last thirty seconds the distance between Elias and I has shrunken in half.

"—speaking of spring, well, it's around the time of year when my mom, umm, passed, and i-it's always pretty hard on me and my dad. I mean, he's been handling everything better than I have, but we don't really talk to each other about it so I could be wrong. But, that's kind of the reason he chose to transfer me here—to Mission Bay. I don't know. He thinks that since he had a good high school experience here, I will too. He's been on this mission lately to make things feel 'normal' for me again, so he's been trying to 'encourage' me to go to Spring Formal like everyone else. That's where him and my mom met actually so it's kind of a big deal for him. The thing is, I don't know much about dances or anything, and it might be totally stupid to ask this, but—"

"Ask away."

"—are you thinking of going with anyone?"

Elias sighs through his smile and stares down at the sand. Long and hard. For more than a beat. Just enough for me to notice how much time's passed.

There's usually one thing I've come to know about when people avert their eyes mid-conversation. I know because it's what I've learned to do. It buys you enough time to deal with finding the right words for a situation you're trying to hide from, run from, or don't know how to deal with. But before I can wonder any further about why a question about a school dance would cause him any kind of turmoil, Elias takes a deep breath and looks back up at me.

"Lace, look, it's just that I—"

The sound of my phone ringing at the most inopportune moment cuts Elias off from answering.

"Elias, I'm so sorry. It's my dad—"

"It's cool. Answer it."

I grab my phone out of my pocket and scramble to silence my dad's phone call. A text message pops up a few seconds after.

Dad: I'll be there in a few! And, I've got a surprise! I could park at the lot by the beach. Meet me there?

Me: Ok. Give me a few.

Dad: I'll honk three times to let you know I'm there. Then you can walk on over.

Me: Sounds good. See u then!

"Sorry about that. My dad said he'd be a couple more minutes. But, what were you going to say? About the dance?"

"Honestly, I don't really do dances. I kind of a had a bad—I mean, they've just never been a good experience for me so—I wasn't planning on it. What makes you ask?"

"I—don't know, it's just this guy Lucas asked me to go with him, but I'm not really sure if I want to."

Elias's face falls a little.

"Lucas, as in our class president, Lucas?"

"Yeah, but I don't really know him. He just asked me out of nowhere, and I feel like he wants me to answer in a certain way when I feel something completely different. Or, I don't know, maybe he's just being really nice to me since I'm new. That's kind of why I wanted to—"

"Wanted to what?"

"—I wanted to see—if you wanted to go? With me? Maybe? I mean obviously you don't have to. I've had my fair share of bad experiences at my old school, so I totally get you not wanting to be at some lame school dance. But then again, maybe things will be different this time. Maybe it'll be like tonight."

Elias's lips part and a ghost of a laugh slips through. He's close enough for the warmth of his breath to light a thousand little brush fires on my skin.

"I hope not. Tonight was a disaster."

"Not to me."

"Why? My dad pretty much ruined everything good about it."

I straddle the line between telling the truth or keeping it buried behind my lips. The light in Elias's eyes tips me toward the former.

"No, he didn't. He's the reason I got to come down here with you. Look around, it's beautiful."

"Sure is."

A runaway breeze comes rushing down the shoreline and sends all the beach-side calm into quiet chaos. The wind whips through my hair and sends it flying into my eyes faster than I can stop it.

And then Elias stops it for me.

He steps into the shrinking space between us and brushes a few reckless strands away from my eyes. I expect the heat of his hand to disappear. For the hurricane in my heart to stop. For the familiarity of my loneliness to replace the warmth of his touch.

I expect to be left because I am too used to people leaving.

But he stays still.

As still and steady as his hand against my skin. Elias leans in until he's impossibly close and slowly traces his way down the curve of my cheek like he's drawing tiny maps with his fingers. I lower my guard as he lowers his gaze to my lips. Lips that are unsure of themselves but unexpectedly sure of him.

I let my eyes drift shut, welcoming a new kind of darkness. A kind that comforts instead of terrifies. That I don't have to go walking into alone.

But then a single sound shatters the moment.

My dad.

Honking his horn.

Three times.

Elias recoils.

Slowly.

Awkwardly.

He lifts his hand away from me—his fingers curling into his palm as if to hide themselves completely.

My dad's horn sounds off again like he's waking up the military, and it's so embarrassingly loud I briefly consider burying myself in the sand. I stare up at Elias apologetically only to find his eyes intently focused over my shoulder.

"Sorry, my dad's kind of a crazy person. I can still stay and talk about Spring Formal. You never answered my—"

He pulls me into a slow hug, but I barely feel him in it.

"You should go—"

He loosens his grip.

"—with Lucas, I mean. He's here actually."

I look over at the edge of the parking lot and spot Lucas standing in front of my dad's church van waving at me. He shouldn't be here. I don't want him to be, and I'm scrambling to understand why he is.

"He shouldn't be. I didn't ask him to come."

"But he clearly wanted to. He's a good guy, Lacey, and I think you'll have a better time at Spring Formal with him than you would with me. I'm not that great to be around anyway."

"But—"

Lucas calls my name from the parking lot, and his voice carries across the wind.

"You should get going. I don't want you to keep anybody waiting."

Elias stares at me, through me, like I'm already gone even though I haven't made a move in Lucas's or my dad's direction.

"Yeah. But, I'll text you when I get home, okay? I'll be up for a while if you need help with the homework or if you wanna talk," I say.

He barely forces a smile.

"Sure. I'll text you. Thanks for coming tonight by the way. I—"

Elias runs a hand through his mess of hair as a mix of frustration and confusion scampers across his face.

"—I'll see you around."

He waves me off and starts heading back to the set of worn wooden steps he carried me down earlier. The further he gets the further the memories of the night seem to slip through my fingers. So I stop it from happening in the only way I know how. I shout out his name and hope it's not too late for my voice to reach him.

"Elias, you should come to Spring Formal! Even if it's hard for you, I hope you come."

"Why?"

"Because I think you can. I think you have a lot more potential than people see. You made me really happy tonight, Elias. I haven't had that much fun in a long time—and if you can make that happen, I think you can do anything. So please, even if it's just for me, come."

Our eyes meet. A single moment in silence stretches out for a mile. And then he finally answers me.

"I'll think about it, okay? Si es por ti, lo pensaré." (If its for you, I'll think about it.)

***

Lucas is waiting for me with a small pink and white striped box in his hand by the time I reach my dad's van. He's dressed completely different than he was earlier—wearing a navy blue polo, a pair of khaki shorts, and pristine white shoes. His hair's neatly styled to the point where he looks even more clean cut than he usually does.

I'm not even thirty seconds into trying to figure out how and why he's here when he pushes off the passenger's side door and approaches me open-armed. I freeze up—not wanting to give him any more reasons to misinterpret our relationship, but he doesn't take the time to read me. He's barely looking at me at all. His eyes drop to my chest as he closes in and traps me in hug I don't return.

"Long time no see, Lace," he says.

I imitate a smile hoping to hide the fact that I'm uncomfortable with him using a nickname for me that doesn't belong to him.

"Hi. What are you doing here? I thought your sister drove you home."

Lucas points back to a series of empty cupcake bags poking out of the open door of the back seat.

"It's Friday, remember? I told you and your dad that I'd help out at the nursing home whenever I could so I asked my sister to swing by after we dropped you off. I saved you a cupcake."

"Which is exactly why you should let him take you to Spring Formal, Lacey. Lucas told me all about how he was planning to ask you on the drive over."

My dad appears next to Lucas and throws an arm over his shoulder like they're old friends. I don't know how to react so I don't. I don't move or smile or respond. I feel outside of everything. Outside of myself. Trapped under the weight of Lucas's expectations. And my father's.

I take the little pink box from Lucas with trembling fingers neither him or my dad notice.

"Thanks, Lucas, and, Dad, I'm still not sure if I'm even going to Spring Formal, okay?"

"Well, maybe Lucas here will be able to change your mind in the car. Lucas, do you want to sit up front or do you want to ride in the back with Lacey?"

Lucas winks at me and my stomach turns inside out. He's so comfortable here—too comfortable. My dad and him bond over volunteering on two Fridays and suddenly they're best friends. Suddenly, I don't have a say in where I sit in my own car with my own father.

I want to say that I'm not okay with any of this. That I don't want to talk about Spring Formal with Lucas. That I don't want to go with Lucas—but what I want doesn't matter right now.

The people who speak the loudest always get their way.

And I left my voice somewhere back on the shoreline. Back in the hands of the only boy who took the time to listen.

***

I spend the car ride to Lucas's house listening to him and my dad wax poetic about community service, sports, and his Spring Formal memories from 1993.

I've done my best to keep myself out of the conversation for the most part. I've written and deleted a thousand "thank you for tonight" texts to Elias in the last fifteen minutes. Everything sounds awkward. Clingy maybe. I don't know.

There are girls who text and create magic with their finger tips. They message boys and somehow get them to answer back every time. I don't know if Elias would respond to me if I said anything now. He's got enough to deal with at home. I can't imagine him walking back into that house after everything.

But maybe he's okay.

Maybe things are better.

Maybe they're not.

New Text Message (Draft) to Elias at 8:32 PM:

Me: Hey. You don't have to get back to this if you don't want to, but thanks again for tonight. And please tell your mom thanks for me. You're lucky to have her and I'm lucky to have gotten to spend time with the both of you. I hope we can do it again some—

My phone disappears out of my hands, and I look up to find Lucas dangling it playfully between his fingers.

"Lucas, what are you doing?"

"Trying to bring you back to earth. Your dad's been asking about your night for the past five minutes. I can only cover for you for so long."

I catch my dad waggling his eyebrows at me in the rear view, and my whole face heats up.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to ignore you or anything I was just—"

"Texting Elias King apparently," Lucas says, and my heart drops.

His whole face is washed in the glow of my screen as he stares at a draft of a message that's not meant for him. I reach for my phone, but, by the time I get it back, it's too late to change what he's seen. Lucas eyes me across the backseat in a way that unsettles and confuses me.

"Lucas, listen, I know that we're friends, but taking my phone from me and reading my messages is not okay."

"I know and I'm sorry, but I'm just trying to look out for you, alright? Elias King is bad news. I don't know the guy all that well, but I figured you should know about his reputation before you make any plans to spend time at his house again."

The car jerks to a stop as Dad takes his attention off the road and redirects it toward our conversation.

"What kind of reputation do you mean, son?" Dad asks.

"Not one I'd want Lacey to get caught up in, but that's just me. At the end of the day, she's free to talk to whoever she wants."

It doesn't feel that way.

"Lucas, if there's anything Elias wanted me to know, he would've told me. We shouldn't be talking about him if he's not here."

He smirks at me through the dark.

"I agree with you, but this is kind of a safety thing—for you. I wouldn't feel right not telling you about all the girls he's had over at his place and the huge fight he got into before you transferred here. But if he already told you—"

"He didn't."

He should've.

"Yeah, I thought so. Look, you can hang out with him if you really want, but you should see this first. I think you have the right to know who your friends really are."

Lucas takes out his phone, scrolls through the screen until he finally pauses on a video dated from October of last year. He presses the play button as he hands it over, robbing me of the decision of whether or not I want to see whatever side of Elias he's hoping to show me.

The video's three minutes and thirteen seconds long.

I don't even make it thirty seconds before I have to pause it.

Because the person I see on the screen is nothing like Elias.

He is violent.

Angry.

Pounding his fists into someone named Josh while a girl screams at him to stop.

There are hundreds of people watching.

All of them terrified.

None of them willing to intervene.

I watch the boy who looks like Elias dissolve into rage and brokenness.

Drunkenness and incoherence.

And I suddenly understand that he's not just terrified of his father.

He's terrified of becoming him.

And the worst part is knowing that for three minutes and thirteen seconds, he almost did.

###

Thank you so much for reading and listening this week! kaelking12 and I had a blast writing & recording this chapter for you guys! We certainly hope you enjoyed it! Can't wait for next week's update :). Spring Formal is on the horizon! Next update will be next weekend unless otherwise stated! 

#RealTalkQuestionoftheWeek

1. What's your impression of Lucas so far? Good boy with good intentions? Or not?

2.  If you were Lacey in this situation, how would you react to seeing Elias's fight with Josh at Homecoming?