It's been two weeks since my parents disappeared. Two weeks since Uncle Al got any messages from them. Two weeks since they abandoned a shit-ton of meth in the basement.

Yet, despite all of this, it's sunny and warm outside. Birds are chirping and nesting, couples are holding hands, flowers are budding and blooming in the mild end-of-April weather. The puffy white clouds that glide above my head each day have no idea what we're going through.

Uncle Al is trying to keep us calm but I can feel that wrenching pain in my gut that keeps me awake at night. Something is wrong.

"You seem different lately," Wyatt tells me as we sit on the steps in the park. He hands me a can of soda and I take a swig, not realizing how thirsty I am until it's halfway gone.

"I've got a lot on my mind," I tell him, passing the can back.

Ever since he showed up at the door with Nadia's textbook, we've became somewhat of friends. It's hard to believe but he came back a few days later and unenthusiastically asked if I wanted to walk around the city. I said yes and that was that. He was reserved at first but we warmed up quickly.

The tricky part is that nobody knows. We're both afraid of what would happen if our families find out we're friends. That's crossing the casual border and getting a little too personal for anybody's liking. Except our own.

"Hopefully it's about getting a college tour this week," he says while circling the soda can in his hand. I notice the sly smile on his face, too.

I shake my head. "We can pretend it is."

"Then what is it?" He asks, his creamy skin and rosy cheeks looking at me like what I'm about to say is actually important to him.

"Just my parents. I have a bad feeling they're gone for good."

His eyes show sympathy and it's weird. Nobody does that on purpose, he's got to be joking or something. I look down at the ground for safety.

"Don't think like that. They've done this before, yeah?" He leans his head down to try and see my face again. "It's kind of like how my dad is. Some days he's home and others he's gone for a week. Nobody knows where or why."

My elbows point into my thighs as I sigh heavily and lace my fingers together between my knees. "Right, it's just a little scary, I guess. Even my uncle hasn't heard from them and that's never happened before. He doesn't seem worried."

Wyatt doesn't move an inch the entire time I'm talking. His eyes are drilling bullets into my skin. "See, he's not worried. Trust him. It seems like he knows your parents best."

I nod. "You're good at this."

He chuckles, giving me a mysterious yet playful smile. "I'm studying social work in college. I want to give back to the community because they've been such a big part of my life."

My mind jumps back to all the encounters I've had with social workers. Mostly female, mostly overly concerned with what I'm doing, mostly handing me pamphlets and referring me here and there. Picturing Wyatt in the lineup doesn't fit. It almost makes me want to start laughing.

"Wait, for real?" I bite the inside of my lip to curb my smile.

"Yeah. When I give you a tour, I can show you all the different degrees we offer. You can do anything you want!" He tells me, using hand gestures to emphasize the giant rainbow of options I have.

"I'd never get into college. I'm not even going to graduate high school next month." I'm not sure if he knows that, but now I feel stupid saying it.

"Then go the hell back to high school," he says while shaking my thigh, "Go. Back. To. School."

Going back to school at this point in the year is impossible. It would be for what? Nothing.

"Maybe I'll change my mind after you give me your college tour," I tell him while mirroring his sly smile from earlier.

"Atta boy," Wyatt extends his arm around my back, our shoulders pressing together for support.

I don't flinch or move away. Instead, I sit there with Wyatt DeHauser and let the warmth from his shoulder seep into my skin.

***

Once home, everything is in shambles, and I stand in the doorway before jumping into the conversation.

"You mean they haven't said a word to you?" Nadia asks with shaky worry in her voice. I've learned to pick this up through the years.

Uncle Al wipes some sweat from his forehead and glances at the cell phone in his hand again. "That's what it says here. I called four times, no answer."

Jax is still as a statue before he notices me, nothing but his eyeballs shifting. "Hey," he calls out from the recliner next to the TV.

Nadia and Uncle Al look at me and give me the same frown. "Hey kiddo. We're just talking about your parents."

Without hesitating, I ask, "Where are they? Are you sure you didn't hear anything?"

Everyone shakes their head.

"What now?" Nothing but three sets of zombie eyes stare back at me. "Do we look for them?"

The room is solemn and quiet, a certain heaviness to it that almost crushes my chest. The only noise is from the squeaky recliner shifting back and forth slowly.

Suddenly, Nadia starts laughing, her eyes welling up with tears like she might be crying also.

"We've spent our entire lives running away from them. No, Angelo, we're not going to look for them. We're certainly not going to start running towards them."

Uncle Al doesn't interject or say anything. Instead, he's scrolling through something on his cell phone, obsolete from our conversation. He's perfectly fine not looking for his little sister. My head spins at the thought of ever losing Nadia or Jax and being content with it.

"So that's it?" I finally ask after a couple of seconds. "Fuck our parents, right?"

Jax shrugs. "She's right. Why should we give half a shit about them when they never did about us? Life keeps moving."

The first hot tear rolls down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away before anyone else notices. Thankfully, it seems as though nobody remembers I'm here anymore.

"Yeah, I'd say let's look for them but I don't think I care enough. Remember all the soccer games they missed? School meetings, appointments, birthdays?" Nadia looks at Jax and Uncle Al, an anger in her face that can only be brought out by our parents' behavior.

The heavy sadness that filled the room just a few minutes ago is being twisted and everyone is okay with it. Jax and Nadia's angry banter about our parents get warped, turning into low mumbles I soon tune out.

Everyone is okay with it but me.