*.*.*.*.*.*

November 6

Three days Shane doesn't come to school.

I wait for him. I wait for him to show up, appear suddenly around a corner or out of the blue. I expect to see him running around the football field with the rest of his team. I expect him to be seated next to Carlos at his regular table in the school cafeteria.

He's nowhere to be seen.

"I've tried calling him," Carlos tells me when he finds me in the parking lost at the end of the day. "His number's out of reach. Has he answered you?"

I don't answer, not wanting to tell Carlos that I don't even have Shane's number. Regardless, I had expected him to at least call or text me to let me know he wouldn't be coming back on Friday. Even if he didn't do that, the least he could do is text me later on to let me know he's okay. Doesn't he have an idea that I might be worried? 

Okay, fine, maybe he's not expecting me to worry. We're not technically dating and we're not even very close friends. Just because Shane freaked out when I fainted or carried me halfway across the school, accompanied me to the doctor, twice, asked me out, also twice, promised me he'd tell me if he ever thinks of hurting himself, and told me he's liked me since before Carter died, does not mean we're anything but strangers. Nope. Why would I even assume such a thing?

"I might go to his house today," Carlos tells me, running a hand through his hair which, I've learned, is something he does quite often.

I've also learned that Carlos is a actually a pretty bipolar person. One minute he's being the nicest guy on the planet, second only to Shane Gray, the next he's making fun of some girl's dress or some guy's voice. He also laughs often and smirks way too much. Despite it all, though, he's not a bad guy at heart.

Which is surprising considering I hated his guts not too long ago.

I haven't talked to Riley yet -- because I don't know if Carlos is telling the truth or not -- and Carlos is willing to wait. He says he's okay with Riely Knowing about Gemma as long as his grandma doesn't get hurt. It's weird, me helping him fool an old lady. I focus on the motive behind the act, though, which is that he doesn't want his grandma to be disappointed in him.

He also wants to take over the family business, selfish little bastard.

"I'll call you if I see him," he says.

I simply nod, trying not to feel rejected by Shane. The sense of disappointment lingers, though, especially since he's gone and I don't know where or how he is. He could be hurt for all I know.

During a free class the next day, I sit with Racheal and Riley in the cafeteria and poke the lentil cake mom had made me for lunch. I hate the cake but I can't help but eat it. Mom spent an hour in the morning making sure it was edible. After all the effort she's putting into following my diet plan, the least I can do is eat the stupid cow-dung-colored cake.

Someone slumps down into Marla's empty seat next to mine because she's still locked in room because she can't get over Hashir which I really can't blame her for. I look up lazily and freeze.

Shane Gray smiles at me, his gray eyes sparkling despite the circles under his eyes. He looks almost the same as ever in his designer coat and button-down. Almost, because the pale tinge to his skin and cracks in his lips give him away. Nonetheless, his smile is enough to distract anyone from his state.

"Where's Marla?" he asks casually, gazing around the table.

Both Riley and Racheal stare at Shane, blinking in confusion with their mouths hanging open. I clasp my lunchbox shut and try not to react, waiting for Shane to give me an explanation for his sudden disappearance. It would hurt for him to simply say hello to me.

"I thought you got hit by a car," Racheal says.

I blink, wondering what the hell even goes on in her head.

Shane, however, chuckles. "What gave you that idea?" he asks.

"Well, you didn't come to school for three days," Racheal explains innocently, her puffy cheeks reddening.

"And you assumed it was because I'm dead." Shane laughs. "No, actually I spent a few days with family. My dad had to go to Paris for some work and he wanted me to go along. I had a nice walk near the Eiffel Tower and met some gorgeous French ladies --"

I jump to my feet, grabbing my lunchbox off the table and stuffing it into my bag before swinging it over my shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Riely perks up, her eyes wide.

"I'm going to class," I tell her, trying not to sound as hurt and angry as I feel.

"But we don't have a class," Racheal says.

"Well, then, I'll go home," I almost snap, pushing back my chair.

Vaguely aware of Shane watching me with a serious look, I turn away from the table without a glance at him. Even as I walk through the bustling cafe and out into the hallway, I can't help but feel a twinge of anger toward him. After nearly six days of being gone without a word, Shane is back and acting like nothing happened. He's got the same smile on his face, his usual pleasant demeanor, acting like he didn't stand me up and then vanish without a trace. I don't know why but it hits me hard to think that he didn't even have the decency to text me and tell me he's okay.

I'd worried about him. I feel so stupid that I'd worried about him. While I kept hoping he wasn't hurt or in trouble, to think that he was in Paris taking walks with gorgeous French ladies. To think he has the audacity to sit next to me and actually say that.

"Taylor! Taylor, wait!"

His voice behind me causes my feet to stagger but I keep pushing forward, turning around a corner without knowing where I'm heading. My step is firm and I hold tightly onto the strap of my bag on my shoulder, clenching my teeth and refusing to show him he's gotten to me. It's frankly silly of me to get so worked up over something when we're technically not even together.

"Shit, Taylor, stop."

He catches up to me, racing past me and spinning around to blocks my path. I catch myself moments before I crash into him, huffing because his face is too cute for me to ignore.

"Get out of my way, Gray," I say coolly.

"You know that's a rhyme, right?" he asks, a smile playing along his lips.

A part of me wants to scream at how nonchalant he is.

I attempt to sidestep him but he spreads out his arms and blocks my path again.

"I have to go," I say.

"Taylor, please," Shane says, his smile evaporating into thin air. "Can you just listen to me? I know you're angry, you have every right to be. But I can explain."

"You don't have to explain why you were walking around the Eiffel Tower with gorgeous French ladies," I say bitterly.

"I was kidding," Shane insists. "I swear I did not meet a single French lady. Wait, I did meet one, but --"

I try and fail to pass him by.

"She was over fifty, Taylor, I swear," he adds quickly.

"But you were in Paris," I point out. "Telling me to wait an hour in the parking lot, you went to Paris? The least you could have done is let me know so I wouldn't have waited there for three hours, Shane."

"You waited for three hours?" Shane repeats, guilt flashing in his eyes.

I exhale a sharp breath, refusing to show him how much he hurt me.

"Doesn't matter," I say calmly. "I'm glad you had fun in Paris. Now if you'll excuse me ..."

"I swear I was going to be back," Shane tells me, his brow furrowing and face crumpling. "I swear, Taylor. I just went home because Dad wanted to make sure I wasn't doing something stupid but then he didn't let me leave."

A sound halfway between a scoff and a groan escapes my lips before I can stop it and Shane's shoulders slump.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy," he says. "But I didn't do it on purpose. It's my parents, Taylor, they freak out when I'm out too late or when I don't get home when they want. You don't know it but if I hadn't left then, they would have followed us to the restaurant I'd made a reservation at."

He made a reservation?

It's hard to believe what Shane is saying since I have no context to his news. The honesty in his eyes, however, makes me trust him.

"Why would they do that?" I ask half-heartedly.

Shane sighs and his shoulder slacken. He looks around the nearly deserted hallway and leans against the wall, running a hand down his face and throwing his head back so that his eyes stare at the ceiling.

Seeing him now, I want to tell him it's okay. I want to reassure him that I trust whatever he's saying even if I don't understand most of it. Regardless of me wanting to do that, though, I know I want to know too. I want to be sure I'm not making a mistake by believing him.

"It's because of my brother," he says at last.

His words catch me off guard.

"I didn't know you have a brother," I say truthfully.

Shane sighs, still staring upward. "Nobody does," he admits. "He left when I was thirteen."

I sigh. "Look, Shane, if you don't want to tell me, it's fine."

"I'm not making it up," he says.

"I didn't say you are," I say, even though I kind of think he is.

"You won't get it, Taylor," Shane says, his face twisted into one of pain.

"How about you try me?"

He looks hesitant, almost like he doesn't know what to do  and how to do it. When at last he sighs, I'm sure Shane's given up.

Glancing at me once, though, Shane begins to walk. I follow him without knowing where he's headed. Past the students bearing to their classes and the cafe, we walk into a neatly deserted hallway and Shane finally turns around. He inhales a deep breath and exhales it mournfully.

"I have an older brother," he tells me with a heavy tone. "But I don't know where he is or if he's even alive. He ... he was a heroin addict."

My heart sinks.

I stare at him, not knowing where it's all coming from. It comes a surprise to me, the fact that Shane is actually telling me something not even his best friend knows. After talking to Carlos I realized what a mystery Shane Gray really is.

"Jackson started using drugs when he got into high school," Shane tells me. "Mom and Dad wanted him to stop so they did all they could, sent him to rehab twice, locked him up, blocked his credit cards. He just wouldn't stop.  When I was thirteen ... he dropped out of school and ran away."

Shane closes his eyes and I watch him, unable to believe what I'm hearing. It seems almost absurd how someone as perfect as Shane could be keeping a secret so dark.

"My parents didn't try to bring him back," Shane tells me, his voice low and sad. "They say they only have one son. Me."

He forces a small smile that only makes his eyes look sadder.

"I know it sounds fucked up but now," he raises his voice, "I'm the only center of their attention. I'm their only son and I have no room for error. I have to be the best because ... they only settle for the best. So when they say come home, I go home. When they want me to hand over my phone for scrutiny, I hand it over. When they want to spy on me or check my room, I stand by and let them. I smile because they want me to smile, laugh and talk the way they want. I become what they want."

"But that's not fair to you," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "I mean, you're human, you can make mistakes."

"I have no room for mistakes," Shane tells me. "My brother made enough for the both of us so now I have to be whatever my parents want or ..."

"Or?" I press, almost afraid of hearing the answer.

Shane swallows, staring into my eyes. "Or nothing," he whispers. "There isn't another option."

My eyes wide and staring and heart treating at the unsmiling sight of Shane who has always seemed so happy, I watch him.

"My brother ruined himself and then he left" Shane says with a mournful sigh. "He left me to pick up the pieces of everything he broke. Because ... the ones left behind have it tougher sometimes."

And I finally know what he means.

*.*.*.*.*.*

A/N: There's a lot more to Shane, guys. Hang in there.