going to move so I put my arm around his shoulder and led him out of the alleyway towards the police station. It didn’t take long before we ran into Maggie and Carlos. They were just coming back from the police station where they had been all night, trying to explain the situation. I told them what had happened, and though Carlos seemed wary of Grayson, Maggie walked right up to him. His eyes were still staring intently at the flower, and he hadn’t even glanced at the two newcomers. When Maggie reached him, she reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand. His eyes finally left the purple blossom in his hands and met her face. “You’ll be okay. You’re not alone,” Maggie said quietly to the boy. His eyes started to well up again, and the tears fell silently down his face. He nodded to her as if understanding that Maggie, Carlos, and I — these people that he had just met, that he had tried to kill only hours ago — were going to stay by his side and protect him as if he were one of their own. I smiled. We walked toward the police station now, determined to make sure that Grayson would be safe. It didn’t matter what he had done. It didn’t matter who his relatives were. What mattered was that we had decided that he was a part of our family now, and that meant we would be there for him. That’s just what families did. grayson I couldn’t take my eyes off the flower. It was just so bright and colorful. I hated that it had the audacity to look so beautiful after everything that had happened. Yet, no matter how much I hated it, I still kept my eyes on the flower. I vaguely remembered the story of the hyacinth flower. It was some Greek myth that I had learned about in high school (which seemed so long ago now, when in reality it hadn’t even been a year since we dropped out). The story starts with two Greek gods fighting over some guy. I don’t know why. You’d think gods were supposed to have higher standards than normal humans. Anyways, one day one of the gods got jealous that the man was spending more time with the other admirer and in a rage, he killed him. The other god was heartbroken at the sight of the dead man, and when he saw a beautiful flower blooming next to the body, he decided to name it after him. I hated that story. The teachers always tried to make it sound like the vengeful god just loved the man so much that he couldn’t stand to see him with someone else. That the one who killed the man loved him just as much as the one who named the flower after him. As if that made what he Page 93
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