Snared by Stefan Petrucha

was up in Mark’s room. He stood in the window, looking at her.
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    Waiting for Mark’s guardians to leave was like teetering on the edge of a cliff. She busied herself with emails and spent thirty minutes putting different outfits together on the bed. It was nearly an hour after first seeing Mark in his window before Lindsay heard the car next door pull out.
    Excited, she ran downstairs and out the front door. In the alley of sand between the two houses, she slowed her pace and smoothed down the fabric of her blouse.
    At Mark’s window, she noticed the strange metal corner pieces driven into the wood again. This time, she touched one out of curiosity. It felt ice-cold to the touch, despite the fact it had to be ninety degrees outside.
    â€œHi,” Mark said. He still wore the distressed jeans and the black shirt that hung loose from his shoulders.
    â€œHey,” Lindsay said. “How’s it going?”
    Mark shrugged. “Sorry about yesterday,” he told her. “I feel like a total geek for freaking out that way.”
    â€œThey’re really strict, huh?”
    â€œYou can’t imagine,” Mark said. His face changed, and he looked happy. “You look really nice today.”
    â€œThanks. So do you.”
    â€œNo, I don’t,” he said. “Don’t have any clothes that fit me here.”
    â€œI hate everything I brought,” Lindsay said.
    â€œHow’s your vacation so far?” Mark asked.
    â€œIt’s okay. I met some kids yesterday. They’re cool, I guess.”
    â€œIf I could get out of here, I’d make sure you had a good trip.”
    â€œOh really?” Lindsay said a bit too loudly. She got her voice under control and said “What would we do?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’d teach you how to surf. You said you wanted to learn. Then we could find anice place for dinner, and after that walk on the beach for a couple of hours. We could build a fire and talk and stuff.”
    â€œThat sounds great,” she said.
    â€œYeah. Right now, anything sounds great to me as long as it doesn’t involve Doug, Jack, or this damn room.”
    â€œWhy don’t you come out here?” she asked. “Maybe we could talk out back. You’d totally make it inside before they found out.”
    Mark looked at her like she had just sprouted a snout. His eyebrows scrunched and his head turned to the side like a curious dog.
    â€œCan’t,” he said. “It’s like, the window. But maybe you could come in?”
    Before she knew it, she was climbing over the sill. Once her shoulders were well into the room, Mark grabbed her gently and pulled her the rest of the way. She glided over his desk and felt how strong he was.
    â€œThere,” he said. “That’s better.”
    The first thing that struck Lindsay about Mark’s room was how stark it seemed. Outside she’d noticed the lack of wall decorations and the minimal furnishings, but standing in the room madeher feel the emptiness of the place. It could have been the tidiness. The pile of clothes she’d noticed yesterday against the closet door was gone, leaving the floor spotless. Mark’s bed was made, blankets smoothed down tight and flawless. The desk by the window, a simple wooden top with narrow legs, looked brand-new, as if it had never been used. No papers littered the surface. No scratches marred the wood. To her left was an open door, leading to a bathroom, and against the same wall as the window was the piano she’d noticed before.
    â€œDo you play?” Lindsay asked.
    â€œSure,” Mark said. He crossed to the piano and lifted the cover off the keys. He hit a key with his index finger and the note chimed crisply. “Well, I used to. I haven’t felt much like it lately.” He sat down on the bench. “Any requests?”
    â€œI don’t know much piano music,” Lindsay admitted, feeling