I shook my head, glancing away.
Braxton made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. “How can he be so ungrateful as to squander this opportunity?” he asked. “So many people went out of their way to make this work for you two and he’s spitting in their faces. What a fool. You’re better off without him, Karys. Far better off.”
I turned back toward the window. Zakai was far from a fool. Despite his lack of schooling, he was smart and insightful. I was only beginning to realize the extent of it now that I had a new perspective on . . . everything. He’d understood what was happening on Sundara to a far greater extent than I ever had. Or perhaps than I’d ever wanted to. He’d shielded me from it. He’d carried the burden. And part of me felt grateful for that, but another part felt angry. Hurt.
Karys is naïve.
I had been, I could admit as much. Perhaps in many ways, some of which I still didn’t have the insight to fathom, I still was.
But I was striving to become a better version of the girl I’d once been. And I couldn’t help wondering if the new me was a person Zakai would love more . . . or less.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I knocked on the door of the group home where Zakai lived. As I waited, I looked around, my eyes moving from the dirty porch planks, to the piles of leaves and garbage in the corner, up to the cobwebs above the door. The paint on the facade was peeling, and two of the house numbers were hanging upside down. Based on the way Zakai had described his new home, I’d had a much different vision of the place. He’d said it was clean and comfortable, and perhaps the inside fit that description, but the outside certainly did not.
Nevertheless, hope soared as I heard footsteps approaching. Claire had gone over how to use public transportation, and accompanied me several places, but I’d figured out how to find the address to this house where Zakai lived, and I couldn’t wait to tell him I’d made the trip all on my own and see the pride shine in his eyes.
He’d see I wasn’t so naïve anymore.
The door swung open and a tall, beefy man stood there, his gaze dull as he stared at me. I wrinkled my nose as the accompanying smell wafted from the interior, as overwhelming as the sight of the giant before me. “I’m looking for Zakai Klein,” I said, pulling myself straight, attempting to make myself seem bigger than half his size.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You his sister?”
“No.”
“Huh. Well, he’s gone.” He opened the door wider. “But you’re welcome to come in and stay awhile.” His smile grew, as did a glint in his eye that sent a shiver of unease down my spine. If this man chose to drag me inside and brutalize me, I could do little to stop him.
“Do you know where he went?” My voice had raised in pitch with the desperation ringing in my head.
His expression grew sulky and he very suddenly seemed like an overgrown child. “No, I have no idea. Half the time he doesn’t even sleep here.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. “What? Why?”
The man sighed. “I haven’t read his fuckin diary, okay? He stopped sleeping here regularly weeks ago. Figure he’ll get kicked out for good any day now. He doesn’t belong here anyway.” He started to close the door.
Weeks ago? He’d stopped sleeping there regularly weeks ago? So where did he sleep?
“Wait!” I held my hand out, ready to push back, but he halted, pulling the door open once again. “Please. It’s very, very important that I find him.”
He eyed me again and then sighed. “He came back with cups from that coffee shop with the red logo near the campus pretty often, but that’s all I know about anything. Hope it helps.” Then he did shut the door in my face and I heard his lumbering footsteps as he walked back into the depths of the house where Zakai evidently no longer lived.
**********
My feet smacked the pavement, a tumble of desperation picking up speed along with my rushing feet. Where are you? How could he just disappear? Why would he leave his home without telling me? He hadn’t slept there regularly for weeks? I’d seen him in that time and he hadn’t said a word.
Was he sleeping on the streets? My mind traveled to the picture I’d always had of him as a child before Haziq had rescued him—hungry and homeless, scrounging for food in the gutters. I stopped in my tracks, squeezing my eyes shut momentarily. No, not rescued. Victimized. Tears threatened. Had we traveled halfway around the world so he could end up right back where he’d started?