The Lost Boys Read Free Page B

expecting? That he’d be here all day long waiting for me? Stupid, Joe.
    I walked over to his tomb (it was his tomb now for me), cleaned off the small mound of snow at the top and grasped the mossy edges, putting my feet on a crevice for support, and pulled myself up. I sat there surveying my surroundings. It was a nice view but the sun wasn’t as warm as yesterday, and a chilly December breeze was biting sharply into my skin. I closed my eyes and inhaled the crisp fresh air happily. It was so peaceful up here. I was beginning to understand why Tristan liked it so much. Perhaps it wasn’t so odd after all. I could stay here the whole day, just chilling.
    “You know, you’re in my spot there, Miss Gray,” a voice said from down below. I scrambled up with a start at the sudden noise, almost falling in my haste.
    “Jeez, Louise! You almost gave me a heart attack there!” I said, putting a hand over my chest, trying to slow down my pounding heart.
    Tristan was leaning against the tomb, hands in his pockets, smirking. “I’m glad you decided to come. I thought Miss Violet would forbid you to see me,” he said with a defiant glint in his eyes.
    “Why would she do that?” I asked, stepping down carefully from the tomb.
    “I don’t think she likes me very much,” he muttered darkly.
    “Oh. So you’re the local bad boy?” I teased. “Does she think you’re a trouble-maker?”
    He seemed offended. “No, I’m not! I don’t know why she doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t like seeing me around here. But I’ve every right to be here too!” he said, a bit angrily. “She has no business telling me where I should be!”
    “Calm down! I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said, approaching him cautiously.
    He eyed me suspiciously and took a small step back, obviously uncomfortable with my sudden proximity. What was that about? He seemed almost … afraid. I stopped and watched him closely. He was wearing what appeared to be the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. Black trousers, white shirt and the same leather jacket. He must be freezing, I thought, as I took in his neat, slicked-back hair. So formal; so serious.
    “Miss Violet didn’t say anything to me. And even if she did, she’s not the boss of me! I can do whatever I want,” I said defiantly. “Well, everything that my mom lets me, that is.” I shrugged and smiled weakly at him. He laughed at my lame rebel speech and seemed to relax a little. “So, what about that tour you promised, to see that famous sculpture?”
    He beamed at me and made a fancy gesture with his hands, bowing slightly. “Follow me, milady.”
    We walked and talked all around the cemetery, back and forth through the shadowy lanes. He asked me a million questions, about my life, my old town, my friends, family and hobbies. I talked and talked endlessly and he listened with a contented smile. Sometimes he interrupted me to ask another question, but mostly he just let me ramble on. From time to time, he would point to a sculpture or a grave with someone supposedly famous in it. He always stopped and stayed quiet for a few minutes, like he was admiring the design – or listening intently to something – and then he would give me a lecture about the person buried there. It was so weird and funny at the same time! I tried to ask him questions too, but he kept deflecting the conversation back to me in such a natural way that it was a while before I noticed he was uncomfortable talking about himself.
    A couple of times we passed this really old man, who looked like the caretaker of the place. He was clearing the smaller pathways and kept giving me odd glances whenever we passed him. I pointed it out to Tristan the second time we passed him by. “Hey, that old dude keeps giving me some weird looks. What’s up with him?” I asked, annoyed. He was looking at me like I was a crazy person or something.
    Tristan looked at the man, holding in a laugh. “Old Johnson, you say?