The Inmate

by Freida McFadden

“Where’s your bag?” Kayla asks him. He frowns. “Bag?” “We’re spending the night.” Kayla looks at Chelsea for confirmation. “Right?” “That’s right, Timothy,” Chelsea says. “This is an overnight party. Didn’t Brooke tell you?” “Yes…” He shrugs. “It’s fine. I don’t need anything.” Kayla looks scandalized. “What about a change of clothes?” Tim glances down at his jacket, which is hanging open to reveal a gray T-shirt and blue jeans. “I don’t know. I’ll just wear this tomorrow.” “Boys.” Chelsea shoots me a look. “Sometimes I wonder what we see in them.” I laugh along with Chelsea, but when I look back at Tim, there’s something in his expression that makes me a little uneasy. I told him we were spending the night. Back when we were much younger and such things were allowed, Tim used to come to my house for sleepovers, and he always brought along everything but the kitchen sink. Yes, a lot of time has passed since then, but it still seems strange that he would come to a sleepover at Shane’s house and not bring anything but himself. It doesn’t seem like Tim at all. Maybe I don’t know Tim at all anymore. Or maybe he doesn’t plan on staying.