6. Hope

"Oh my god. Is that Hope Estheim?"

"When did he get so cute?"

"Shh! He can hear you, idiot."

Hope ignored these comments, his chin raised, eyes forward. He stalked through the school corridors like a zombie, pausing only to exchange a book at his locker. Even the teachers seem to falter whenever their gazes lit upon his face. They all knew him or knew of him, as small as the school was, and he'd gone through much of his academic career with his favorable aptitude preceding him. He was the kind of kid teachers wanted in their class. "Was" being the operative word.

Last year, Hope would've been embarrassed at his classmates newfound appreciation for him - embarrassed, but pleased. Now, it failed to move him. He absolutely did not care what they thought of him.

He was different now.

A hand on his sleeve startled him from his reverie as he stared into the depths of his locker. He blinked and looked down at a short blonde girl, who was smiling broadly at him. "Hope, right?" she said. "Hope Estheim? I'm Alyssa Zaidelle - you might remember me from the school newspaper last year?"

He did remember her, actually. He remembered having an enormous crush on her, specifically. "Sure," he replied nonchalantly.

Her face faltered slightly, but only slightly. "I, um, was wondering if you were going to join again this year?" she continued.

"No," he answered flatly.

Her startled blue eyes blinked. "No? Why not?" she asked, pouting. "You were such an asset last year! I'm the editor now, you know."

"I didn't know," he said. "But I gotta get to my last class."

"At least think about it?" Alyssa pleaded, eyelids flickering, long lashes fluttering against her cheeks - certainly a charming tactic she must employ often.

"Nothing to think about," Hope said. "See you around, okay?" He slammed his locker shut, locked it, and walked away.

An asset, sure. All of those boring, shitty articles he'd squeezed in time for between all of the assignments his honors classes required of him about god knew what anymore. Cafeteria renovations? Parking lot potholes? He'd been an asset in writing the stupid crap that no one else wanted to, maybe. They can find some other sucker who wants to fill up his academic resume so badly.

The late bell chimed as he came up outside of his last class, the door already shut. He glanced through the window; the student closest to the door gave him bemused eyes. After a moment, Hope turned and continued to walk down the hall and out the door that led to the rear parking lot.

Another student was just outside under the covered walkway, one hand cupped around a cigarette as he fought to light it against a strong gust of wind. Finding success, he took a deep drag. He glanced at Hope, smoke leaking past his lips.

"Estheim," he greeted amiably. "You have early release?"

"Sure," Hope said. "The same sort you do, Noel."

Noel Kreiss smirked slightly. "Look at you," he said. "Hope Estheim, skipping class. Your mom would have a coronary." Seeing Hope's expression, his smile faded.

"My mom died," Hope said curtly.

"Oh, shit." Noel blanched. "You're not serious, are you? You are. Dude, I'm so sorry - "

"Don't worry about it," Hope cut him off.

"So your dad must be back around or something, yeah?"

"No. Noel, I need your help with something."

"Me?" Noel tapped out the ash of his cigarette. "What could you possibly need my help for?"

Hope lifted his head and looked around, brushing his windblown hair away from his eyes. The parking lot was empty, but he wasn't taking any chances. "Did you bring your car today?"

Noel was looking at him curiously. "Yeah," he answered. He stubbed his cigarette out against the walkway's railing, flicking the butt into a nearby trashcan, then leading the way to his only slightly worn out truck. Once inside, he turned to look at Hope. "Now what?" he asked, only a little suspicious.

Hope dug around in the bottom of his bag, and produced a brick of cocaine.

"Holy hell!" Noel startled, staring at the package in Hope's hands. "I mean…that is a respectable amount of coke."

"Yes," Hope agreed.

"Jesus christ, Hope, where the hell did you get that? I mean…" He peered into the other boy's green eyes. "Are you using that shit?"

"What? No. I…um…found it."

Noel furrowed his brows. "Hope…"

"And I need you to get rid of it for me," Hope continued.

"What? Me? Why?"

"Oh, please," Hope said derisively. "Like the whole school doesn't know that you sell pot - "

"Yeah, that's fuckin' weed." Noel gestured. "Dude, you could be murdered for that shit. That is a whole 'bother level. That's at least forty grand right there. Where the fuck did you get it?"

Hope raised his brows. He hadn't actually been aware how much it was worth. He stuffed it back into his bag.

"Hope." Noel was studying his face. "What the hell happened to you this summer? Your face is all bruised up, you have several thousands of dollars worth of drugs in you goddamn backpack…"

Hope touched his jaw lightly. He'd thought the bruise had yellowed enough that it wouldn't be noticeable, but perhaps not.

"Did you find it or steal it?" Noel pressed.

"I found it," Hope answered. "And found out later that the owners were looking for it."

"Goddamn." Noel dragged his hands down his face. "Is that who fucked up your face? You are really lucky you aren't dead, man."

"Those bruises faded awhile ago," Hope said wryly. "This one was a different incident."

The brunette shook his head. "This is not good."

"I'll give you a cut."

Noel paused, then eyed him. "How much?" he asked eventually.

Hope shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know," he said. "This whole drug dealing shit is new to me."

"It should stay that way," Noel mumbled.

"Half," Hope said decisively. "If it's really as much as you say it is, that should be enough of a incentive."

Noel stared him, his blue eyes wide.

Hope folded his arms over his chest. "You don't have to," he said at length.

"I could get shot for this shit, dude," Noel said. "I'm not kidding."

"I know," Hope murmured. "I know."

After a moment Noel let out a breath. "Okay," he said. "Fine. Let me do a little…research, and I'll get back to you. Okay?"

"Fair enough," Hope answered.

"But you tell me what happened to you since last school year," Noel said, pointing at him. "Because this is a huge departure from the Hope I went to school with for the last twelve years who was a total mama's boy and a teacher's pet. And tell me where exactly you found that shit so I don't wander into them and get my spleen taken out."

Hope sighed, sinking down in the cracked leather seat. He propped his knees up on the dashboard, playing with the fraying sleeve of his sweater. "Reader's digest version good enough?" he said.

"Whatever."

"Okay. Well. Started with my mom dying. She'd been sick awhile with cancer, and then…yeah. I guess the hospital was trying to contact my dad, and I..."

"So who are you staying with?" Noel interjected with an arched brow.

"No one," Hope said. "I mean. People. Not…relatives."

"How did you wind up with them? Where's your dad, man?"

"Maybe if you would stop interrupting me every five seconds I could tell you."

Noel sat back, folding his arms over his chest. "Okay, go."

"When she died, I was…" Hope turned his palms face up on his thighs. "I dunno. Distraught. I freaked out. The nurses told me to go back home, to get ahold of my dad, and they were going to try too, because they needed someone to make arrangements for the funeral. I went home for a little while, and then the hospital called me asking if there was anyone else I could find to make arrangements. I don't know any, so I just…I left. I packed my shit and ran away." The corner of his mouth quirked. "Sort of, anyway. I was still in New Bodhum. But I guess I left just in time, because a couple days later I went by my house and cops were there."

"Probably looking for you," Noel said quietly.

"Maybe." Hope shrugged one shoulder. "So I haven't been back since."

"And your dad is MIA?"

Hope's fingers curled into fists. "Per usual. Not that I care. I don't want to live with him." He blew out his breath. "All I gotta do is get through this school year and then I can start working. And if this works out…" He gestured to his bag. "I'll have something to start with."

"Hope…" Noel shook his head, his shaggy locks curtaining his face. "This isn't good. You should really get in contact with someone. Your dad is probably worried about you. Besides, I'm sure your mom left you stuff in her will."

"I don't want it," Hope said decisively.

The other boy gave him a weird look. "Why?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," he muttered.

Noel opened his mouth to retort, then shut it, looking pensive. "Okay. Well, tell me the rest, I guess. Like where you found that shit."

"I was sleeping in random places for most of the summer. In alphabet city. One of the last places I was in was stashed with the stuff. I knew it went for a lot of money, so I took it. It didn't take long for the owner to catch up with me. If the cops hadn't come through, I'd probably be dead." He touched his cheek absently. "And then some girl picked me up off the street basically. I've been staying with her since."

Noel blinked. "That's…something, I guess."

"Yeah," Hope said wryly.

"Just keeping some old lonely woman company, huh?"

"What? No." Hope laughed at the absurdity of it. "No."

"Is she hot?" Noel asked with mild interest.

Yes. "Sure."

"Did you bone her?"

Hope opened his mouth, then quickly shut it. Noel's eyes widened.

"No!" he said with a disbelieving laugh. "You? Dude, I didn't think you had it in you. I thought you'd be one of those guys who ended up a wizard, or something."

Hope raised his brows, his face bright red. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It's when you hit thirty as a virgin. But…" He gave Hope a speculative look. "I saw how that Alyssa chick was looking at you, man."

"Whatever," Hope mumbled.

"How old IS this chick, anyway? I mean, is she into cradle robbing or something? Is she your sugar mama?" Noel laughed.

"Can we not talk about this?" Hope said, pressing his fingers to his temples.

Noel looked over at him, his brows furrowing. After a moment, he said, "Fine, fine. If that's how you want to be." He pulled back his sleeve and checked his watch. "Well, school will be officially over in five minutes," he remarked. "You want a ride?"

Hope was about to accept, then shook his head. "Nah. I'll walk. I have other stuff to do."

"If you say so," Noel said. "Be careful walking around with that shit in your back, though."

"I will. Thanks." He jumped out of the truck. "Keep me updated."

"Yep." He gave a little wave, the wristband of his watch sliding down his bony wrist. "See you."

He wound up in front of his old house.

The yard was overgrown, especially in comparison to the neighbors' yards on either side, which were both recently tended to. The shrubs that lined the walkway to the front door had long lost their shape; grass had grown straight through them. The flowers that his mother had so painstakingly cultivated against the house were either dead or dying. The house itself looked the same, except for the distinct abandoned feeling, even disregarding the shuttered and boarded windows.

Hope walked up the stone pathway and onto the front porch. The wooden chairs that had decorated it were gone, perhaps stolen. The potted plants hanging from the porch's ceiling were all in various states of decay as well. His mother had really loved to garden.

He looked around. The street was quiet. It had never been a neighborhood with many children, something his mom had lamented while he was growing up, afraid of her son lacking playmates.

He went around to the back of the house. The grass whipped and clung to his pant legs as he walked. The backyard seemed even worse than the front; he remembered, then, that he'd always skimped on cutting the grass in the back, since the fencing prevented anyone from seeing it anyway. He stepped onto the patio, freeing himself from the tangled growth, and went to the back door, which proved to be locked. Hope dug around in his bag before procuring a lanyard with the house key on the end of it, and unlocked the door.

The interior was simultaneously stifling and sweltering. The kitchen was barren, except for the counters and shelves. All of the furniture and appliances here had been taken too; he could see through the door way that the dining room also empty. A fine layer of dust covered the surfaces of everything else, including the floor.

And there were footprints - not his own.

He saw an envelope on the countertop.

His name was written on the front of it in familiar handwriting. He inhaled sharply as he picked it up and turned it around, undoing the seal and drawing out the folded letter. The paper was fresh; it had not been here overlong.

Hope,

I do not know if you will ever receive this letter. I don't know if you plan on coming back to this house. But I had to try, since I have no other means of contacting you. You left your phone, and the neighbors had no idea of your whereabouts. And apparently, you have no friends to speak of, who would know either.

Whatever lies between us - enmity, perhaps, on your part, or maybe even hatred - you are my son. You will always be my son. I can only pray that you will find this somehow, and be in contact with me soon. I just want you to be safe. I will answer any questions you may have honestly, and I'm sure you do have them. Only know that I did not mean to leave you and your mother hanging as I did.

I thought about leaving word with the school, if on the off chance that you would attend your final year, to let me know. But I decided to leave the choice to you. If you do not wish to ever speak to me again, I won't force it. I hope that you find this letter and decide to.

All of my love,

Dad.

At the bottom of the letter was his father's phone number and address.

He didn't even realize he was crying until he tasted the salt of a tear as it dropped onto his lips. With shaking fingers, he folded the letter shoved it into his bag. He ran out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it hurriedly.

He sprinted all the way home. He was soaked in sweat by the time he clattered through the front door, panting. He caught sight of his face in the mirror in the foyer, damp tendrils of hair clinging to his reddened cheeks, lips parted as he wheezed. Wish those girls from school could see me now, he thought bitterly. They wouldn't being calling me cute anymore.

"Hope?" Lightning asked as he stormed up the stairs past her.

He slammed the bedroom door in Lightning's face, catching only a glimpse of her bewildered expression before locking it.

"Hope," she said, her voice muffled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he yelled, throwing his bag on the floor and pulled off his school sweater.

He heard the knob rattle as Lightning tried the door, futilely. "Hey," she said. "Talk to me. What's the problem?"

Hope sank onto the futon. "Nothing," he repeated. "Light, please. Just leave me alone."

He heard her walk away then, without another word, and let out his breath. He grabbed a pillow and covered his face with it, groaning.

He hadn't seen or talked to his dad in three years. It had been two since his mother and he had lost all contact with him. It had been like his father had dropped off the face of the planet. And now he was back…and looking for him?

Hope pulled the pillow away from his face and put it behind his head, tears leaking unbidden from behind his closed lids, soon drifting into an exhausted sleep.

Lightning sat up, reaching one hand to him, running her fingers through his hair. Impulsively, he turned his head, laying his lips on her bruised wrist. Hope heard her sharp intake of breath.

And suddenly she was pulling his head towards hers and kissing him like he'd never been kissed - not that he'd ever actually been kissed, aside from the pecks shared with his middle school girlfriend - and he could taste the alcohol on her breath, but he didn't care. Her lips parted under his, and their tongues touched.

"You're beautiful," Lightning murmured, pushing his hair away from his neck and kissing along the skin of his throat. Hope didn't answer; he couldn't. His breath was coming so fast, he felt like his body was going to combust. Where her lips touched, his skin felt like it was on fire. Her hands moved down his stomach, brushing the front of his jeans.

"Light," he said, his voice trembling.

"I know," she said, thumbing the clasp open and unzipping them. Her hand slid inside his boxers, and he moaned. Lightning kissed him again, then trailed her mouth to his ear, biting down on the lobe.

"Are you a virgin?" she murmured, and he shivered.

"Does it matter?" Hope asked in return.

The answer seemed to satisfy her, though it was no answer at all. Her mouth was on his again, her fingers sliding around his length. He moaned against her lips, pressing himself into her. Lightning withdrew her touch abruptly, and he opened his eyes to look at her as she lounged back against the couch.

"Come here," she said. Hope obliged her, moving to straddle her hips. He lowered his head to kiss her again, but this time he let his mouth run down her throat and into her cleavage. He hooked a finger into one of the cups of her bra, exposing her breast; his lips brushed a nipple and she made a small sound. Her hands slid into his hair as his tongue flicked against it.

"Yes," she sighed.

"Sit up," he said roughly, and she did, lips finding his again. His hands went around her back, fumbling at the clasp of her bra. The straps slid from her shoulders and she took it it off, flinging it over the back of the couch. His hands cupped her breasts as they kissed, his arousal pinned against her belly.

"Fuck me," she said breathlessly. "Hard, Hope, please. I want you so bad."

Hope's eyes flew open, his breath catching in his throat. His room was almost totally dark; checking his watch, he realized he'd been asleep for almost three hours. His hard-on was chafing in his jeans. He made a disgusted sound as he sat up and pulled them off. He needed a shower.

A loud slapping sound came from across the hall, like something hitting a wall. Hope paused, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He still opened the bedroom door.

He heard Lightning gasping from inside her room, then moan. He heard Snow grunt. He felt like vomiting.

"I can fucking hear you!" he yelled. The sounds ceased immediately, and Hope retreated back into his room again, slamming the door.