My Neighbor-s Son — Part 1 - Jack Radley Rafael...

“He’s your age,” my mother said, peering through the blinds. “Maybe you’ll be friends.”

Here is of the story. My Neighbor’s Son Part 1: Jack Radley Rafael The first time I saw Jack Radley Rafael, he was climbing out of his own bedroom window at two in the morning.

“Sure.” He took a drag from the cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke that curled up like a question. “Then why are you out here at two a.m., Lena?”

He turned.

I should have climbed back inside. I should have pulled the window shut and locked it and forgotten this ever happened. But something about the way he said my name—like it was a secret we now shared—kept me there.

He nodded, like that made perfect sense. Then he flicked the cigarette into the dark and patted the shingle beside him.

I froze, half on the branch, one foot on my sill. My Neighbor-s Son PART 1 - Jack Radley Rafael...

So I ignored him.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then he smiled—slow, crooked, and dangerous.

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I don’t stare.” “He’s your age,” my mother said, peering through

“You’re the girl from 42,” he said. His voice was low, rougher than I expected. “The one who pretends not to stare.”

Then, last Tuesday, a moving truck the color of a bruised plum parked outside.

My name is Lena, and I had just turned seventeen. I lived at 42 Maple Street, in the kind of quiet suburban neighborhood where the biggest crime was Mrs. Gable letting her roses choke the sidewalk. The house next door, number 44, had been empty for three years—ever since the old Rafferty woman went to a nursing home. Weeds took over the lawn. The porch swing rusted. I’d grown used to the silence. “Sure