Free Wraith by Angel Lawson

someone to talk to, you can always call me, okay?”
    His voice was low and quiet under the noisy students. Paranoia flared again, but I swallowed it back. “Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
    The truce between us was shattered, though, when Connor’s name was called by a friend and his caring, friendly expression was replaced by his trademark smirk and he sauntered off, leaving me breathless and wondering what had just occurred.

“T URN LEFT AT THE stoplight,” Evan directed, while I drove my mother’s car down the street. He wouldn’t tell me exactly where we were going. We were still in the city, but farther downtown.
    “Okay, once we turn, then you’ll need to find a parking place on the street.” I did as I was told, completely unfamiliar with the area. School was out, and that morning when I got up Evan told me to ask my mom for the car to run some errands. He had a surprise.
    I found a spot and after three tries, managed to parallel park. We both laughed when I hit the curb and the car bounced unevenly. “I’m so bad at this,” I said, finally shifting the car in park.
    “You really are.”
    “Shut up.”
    But we both smiled for the first time in days. I stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk and zipped up my jacket and secured my hat over my hair. It wasn’t too cold, but cold enough. It was good just to spend time alone with him. He rummaged under the seat for something, pulling out a bag that he then handed to me.
    I peeked inside. “Bread?”
    “For the ducks.”
    “We’re going to feed ducks?” I kind of wanted to jump up and down little-girl style. This should be fun.
    “Yes, the park is down the street.”
    At the end of the street there was a path that cut between some houses, and when we came out the other side, we were in the park. Sprawling grass and biking trails in the middle of tall buildings and traffic. Private yet public. Perfect for me and Evan.
    “The lake’s this way.” He turned down one of the side paths, taking us past the old bath house and a little dock where people fished.
    “How did you know I have a bizarre fascination with feeding ducks?” I asked.
    “You may have mentioned it, once or twice.”
    I followed Evan to a wall made of large, granite squares. I dug into the bag of bread and picked off small pieces and threw them in the water. The ducks, which were watching and waiting, swam right over and fought over the floating pieces.
    I said, “My mom is going to be so confused when she looks for the bread tomorrow.”
    “Just tell her I took it.”
    Smartass.
    “Ha, ha. Yeah, okay.” I rolled my eyes.
    While feeding the ducks Evan said, “My mother used to bring my sisters and me out here on her day off from work.”
    I stiffened. Evan never spoke of his family. I had a million questions, but was afraid to push.
    “Even when I was older,” he found a rock and tossed it in the water. It landed with a loud plop. “We came here every week.”
    “That’s nice.”
    “She would pack a lunch and we would sit over there.” He pointed to a grassy spot near the beach. “The girls would play in the sand and I would read or bring my football.”
    “We never really went to the park,” I said.
    “No?”
“No, not at our old house. If we came to the city, my mom preferred museums and stuff. Like now.”
    Evan crossed his legs under his body and leaned his elbows on his legs. “My mom was a good mom.”
    That was an odd thing to say. “I’m sure she was.”
    “She made us cookies and cakes on our birthdays. She took care of us after our dad was gone. It was just hard for her.”
    Evan’s eyes focused on the small beach across the lake, where kids were playing. There was one little girl with wild blonde hair flying around her head. She was drawing in the sand with a large stick. It was too cold to get in the water but the others were on the edge, throwing sticks and rocks. Two moms talked on a bench and another sat alone on a blanket