The Outcasts by Misty Hayes

Author:Misty Hayes [Hayes, Misty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YA romance, vampire romance, YA fantasy, urban fantasy, vampire fiction, strong female lead
Publisher: Hewlett-Packard
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

WHEN ALASTAIR JOINED ME in the living room, he looked refreshed, his hair still damp from the shower he’d taken. He had on a white t-shirt, a pair of sweats, and was rocking a pair of white crew-cut socks; it was the most relaxed I’d ever seen him. No one else had returned, so I figured I’d ask him as much as I could before they came back. He sat down at one of the stools near me and I could smell fresh soap on his skin.

He crossed his arms over his chest, as if now that he’d shared something about himself that I was suddenly going to view him as a freak. Except, that was the opposite of how I felt. I reached a hand toward his clenched fists, but stopped myself short. “You know, if anyone understands what it’s like to be a freak, it’s me.” I raised a hand in the air. “I mean, fat joke central here.”

He glanced up and gave me a small smile. “Can we be freaks together?”

I couldn’t help but match his shy smile in return. “Only if you tell me your last name.”

Alastair cocked his head to the side. “I hadn’t even realized you still don’t know my last name—it’s Iszler.” Emboldened by this revelation, he said, “I was born in Germany but I grew up in New York. My folks sent me there when I was a kid.” He said, “I consider myself a tried and true New Yorker, though.”

“Why did they send you to New York?” I asked.

He leaned back on the barstool. “They were supposed to follow me on the next ship over. My mom got sick with pneumonia. Pops… well, it was hard on him when she passed. He didn’t last much longer.”

A pang of emotion welled up at the heartbreak and loneliness he must have felt. “I’m so sorry, Alastair.”

He picked at a fingernail in thought. “I was twelve when it happened.”

My breath hitched as I realized he was the same age as me when my father left. It was weird, seeing him vulnerable and talking about his youth. It didn’t feel as if it happened a long time ago—it felt like just yesterday.

“Germans in America weren’t looked on too kindly, back then. I slept in the streets and stole food.” He shrugged as if everyone went through the same thing at the age of twelve.

“It must have been hard without your family. I can’t imagine going through that by myself,” I sympathized.

“I’ve had two lifetimes to make up for it, make friends.” When he spoke next, it was in a rush, “At least your father is still around.”

“The situation with my father is different,” I said. I wanted to argue, shout, and throw my hands in the air in a full-blown adult tantrum but deep down, I knew he was right. He’d been through a lot more than I had and I was being, in the wise words of Star Lord in the Guardians of the Galaxy: ‘a big old turd blossom.

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