The morning after Halloween, I wake up alone. Austin has shared my bed all week so the absence of his warmth is odd enough to wake me when I stretch my arm across the empty mattress. Pixie's air mattress is folded up against the wall, their bags missing. My heart sinks. Why? I know he wanted the freedom to come and go when he wanted, but why would he leave without saying goodbye? Without saying anything?

Blanca is off on the weekends so I can't ask her if she talked to Austin this morning. Seth is sitting at the kitchen table with his iPad when I come downstairs.

"Austin and Pixie are gone," I say, sitting down across from him.

He glances up at me with indifference. "Okay."

"Did you see them? Did they say anything to you?" I ask.

Seth shakes his head. "Nope."

I stare out the window at the misty November morning. "Great."

Seth looks at me over his cereal bowl. "Why do you care so much anyway?"

Because I failed you and don't want to fail anyone else. Because I'm falling in love with Austin... I think. But I don't say that. Instead I say,

"It's the right thing to do."

Seth snorts. "Whatever. You don't owe them."

"I wish someone had done for you what I'm doing for them! Maybe if they had-" I stop myself.

"Then maybe I wouldn't be so fucked up?" Seth finishes softly.

"That's not what I was going to say," I mumble, even though we both know it was.

Seth shrugs. "It's not like I don't know what you and Dad think of me. All these therapists and shit? It's not 'cause I'm easy to live with, huh?"

"We just want to help," I say.

"No one can help me," Seth says. There's a note of defeat in his voice.

"Why do you think that?"

He looks up at me. There's this strange look in his eyes, as if he wants to tell me something and is having to fight himself to keep it inside.

"Rory..." he says, but then he changes his mind. "Forget it. Doesn't matter."

"Tell me," I say.

Seth shakes his head and stands up. "Forget it, Rory. It doesn't matter. See you later."

With that, he's gone, leaving me feeling more alone than ever.

——————

At work a few days later, I still can't help watching the doors, hoping to see Austin and Pixie walk in. Hours pass like weeks. It's been a slow afternoon and an even slower evening, and I'm stiff with boredom behind my register, my lower back aching from standing still for so long in the same place. I don't get to leave my register until my ten minute break, which I decide to spend with Ryan in the cafe.

"You look like somebody died," Ryan says to me.

I sigh heavily, leaning against the counter and pretending to bang my head against the Daily Specials chalkboard. "Austin is gone. He just left this morning."

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Lover's quarrel?"

I roll my eyes. "No. He just... left. Like, no fucking explanation."

"That sucks. After everything you've done for him? What an asshole," Ryan says.

"He's not an asshole. He's just been through a lot. Every time I feel like we're getting close, he completely shuts down," I say.

"Have you done it yet?" Ryan asks.

"It?"

"Have you, let's say, chilled in the soft glow of the Netflix TV light?"

I laugh. "God the dude barely lets me kiss him! Give me a break. Not like I haven't thought about it though."

"I'm sure you have. I know I have," Ryan says with a suggestive wink.

Seeing that I'm not going to leave anytime soon, he starts making me a caramel latte before I ask for it. I watch him make my drink while eating tiny bites of my Greek yogurt to trick myself into thinking I'm more full than I am. I need the protein if I want to keep dancing, but a ballerina's relationship to food is always somewhat complicated. Eat too much and you're too heavy to dance. Eat too little and you're not strong enough to dance. Oh, and before performances we usually pig out on a massive truckload of carbs; chips, pasta, bread, whatever. That sustains our energy for long performances. Everyone always thinks we're anorexic or whatever, but really it's just a unique pattern of eating that revolves around dance.

"I just don't get it," I say softly.

"What?"

"Austin. Leaving."

"Well maybe now you know that dating a homeless runaway isn't a great plan," Ryan says. "It sounds like he has major issues."

"He does have issues. The things he's told me about his life..." I stop and shake my head.

"What things?"

"I don't even want to repeat them. What's happened to him are some of the worst things I've ever heard."

"Maybe he's embarrassed about it."

This thought has never occurred to me. "Why would he be embarrassed? It's not his fault," I say.

"Guys handle things differently," Ryan says.

"How would you know anything about it?" I ask.

"Because I'm a guy, Rory. Even though you could roast a damn marshmallow on these flames, I'm still a guy!"

I laugh so hard I almost choke on my yogurt. "Yeah could you make me a s'more?"

"Only if you got a stick," he says coyly.

I bust up laughing again. We both do. Then Ryan takes a deep breath. "Rory?"

"Hm?"

"I bet you a million bucks I know what happened to that boy of yours," he says.

"What?"

"You already know what I'm talking about. And if I'm right, which I am, it's going to take a long time. Okay? Like, a long fucking time. I know because I dated a guy like him once." Ryan hands me my latte.

"And what happened?" I ask, taking a sip.

"He left. He wasn't ready. I loved him the best I could, but it wasn't enough to fix him. Don't fall into the same trap. You can't be his savior. He has to want to heal."

I mope around my register until it's almost closing time. The store is so quiet and empty it's torture to stand around doing nothing. Austin usually comes in near closing time, so I watch the doors intently, but he never shows up. When my phone buzzes in my pocket I think for one happy second that it might be him, but then I realize there's no way for him to call or text me.

I take a look at the screen and see Seth's number. He never calls me. A funny feeling rolls in my stomach.

"Hello?" I answer.

There's the sound of shuffling, and at first I think he accidentally called me. I'm just about to hang up when I hear someone speak.

"Um..." says a girl's voice, "Are you Rory?"

"Yeah. Who is this?" I ask, my heart pounding with dread.

"I'm Lacie. I'm Seth's girlfriend," she says.

Ah... the answer to the condom question. I grip the phone tighter. "Where is Seth? Why are you calling me?" I ask.

"We're at Reagan Park. We came to hang out and... we drank a little bit and smoked a little weed. Seth is really fucked up. Like, bad. He was already loaded when he came over, and now he's completely shit-faced. We walked here, but there's no way he can walk home, and I need to get back to my house before my parents notice I'm missing."

I rub my eyes. "Shit. Okay, stay there, I'm on my way."

I hang up the phone and let my manager know that I have to leave early for an emergency. I don't dare tell him what's going on. Just like most of the employees here, he knows my dad and would snitch in a second.

Reagan Park is located just outside of our housing addition. It's a big park, so it takes me awhile to find them. Lacie wasn't lying. Seth is so drunk he can barely stand. An open bottle of Jack Daniels is turned over on its side next to the park bench where they were sitting. Seth reeks of whiskey and weed.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I demand, looking at Lacie.

She's a petite, pretty girl who can't be older than thirteen, with long blond hair and ripped jeans. She looks at her feet and doesn't answer me. The thought of what could have happened if she hadn't called me makes me cold. A few more drinks and Seth would've had to spend the night in the hospital if he got lucky or a morgue if he didn't.

He leans on me as I lead them both back to my car. I drop Lacie off at her house, which is just down the road from ours. On the way home, Seth rages at me for picking him up and "embarrassing" him in front of his girlfriend. I don't bother pointing out the fact that he's the one who put himself in the situation.

When he's done raging, he starts sobbing, slurring drunkenly through his tears about someone coming for him, someone hunting him down, someone who wants him dead. When I try to get more information out of him, he shuts down and starts cussing me out again.

I pull up into the driveway and my stomach turns when I see my father's car sitting where I usually park. Maybe he's already gone to bed. Hopefully.

"Dad's home, Seth. You're gonna have to pull it together if you don't wanna get caught," I say.

"I'm fucking fine! Just shut the hell up!"

I roll my eyes. Whatever. If he's gonna be an asshole about it, I'm happy to let him go down. As soon as we open the front door, my father's deep voice booms out of the darkness.

"What the hell is this?" he demands.

Shit.

Dad flips on the entry way light and walks over to us. Seth is pretty out of it, but when he sees Dad, he tries to stand up straight. Dad grabs his chin and takes a long look at him.

"Are you drunk?" he asks disbelievingly.

"He just made a stupid mistake," I say, hoping to save Seth at least some of trouble he's gotten himself into.

Seth jerks away from Dad. "Don't touch me!" he shouts.

"I've had just about enough of this shit!" Dad bellows.

Seth rolls his eyes. "Get the fuck out of my face!"

Dad raises his hand and smacks Seth across the face. I immediately jump between them.

"Dad, don't!" I shout.

My father's face is red with rage. I haven't seen him this angry in years. Maybe never.

"Stay out of this, Rory! I'm done with his bullshit!" Dad yells.

Seth doesn't shrink away from Dad's fist. Instead his eyes flash as he shoves my father backwards into the staircase. Dad stumbles but catches himself before he falls. The look of rage on his face temporarily changes to one of shock.

Before things can escalate any further, I stand between them with my arms out, ready to hold them back if I need to.

"Get the hell out of my sight! I'll deal with you in the morning!" Dad shouts at Seth over my head.

As Seth stumbles upstairs, I lean against the front door, breathing hard. I'm still clutching my car keys, and I feel the metal digging into my palm. My father sighs deeply. He suddenly looks extremely tired and much older than he really is.

"Rory, I can't believe you've allowed him to get like this," he says, shaking his head.

"ME?" I snap, "You haven't even been home in weeks! How the hell is this MY fault?"

"Because I trust you to look out for him when I'm not here!"

"That's your job, Dad," I say, spitting out the word spitefully. "Maybe if Seth mattered more to you than your stupid campaign-"

I don't get anything else out. He slaps my face so hard I stumble back against the door. Shocked, I hold my cheek and stare at him just long enough to see a hint of guilt flash across his eyes. My dad has never hit either one of us... until tonight.

"Rory, I'm-" Dad starts, but I don't stick around to hear his worthless apology. I run upstairs before he can see me cry.

Seth's door is closed. I think about checking on him but then decide to just let him sleep it off and talk to him first thing in the morning.

I never get the chance.

The next morning, Seth's room is empty, his drawers pulled out, clothes thrown all over the floor. He's gone. Seth has run away twice since he came back so I've walked in on this scene before, but then I remember what he said last night about someone coming for him, and my stomach twists with fear. If he's in any actual danger, then that means he's alone and defenseless out there... and I have no idea where he's gone.