But I at least thought there would be something, you know?
A skipped beat of the heart.
A tug at your soul wheresomethinginside you goes, Holy shit.
Finally, after all this time, there she is.
But three things about Grace immediately stood out, before her ordinariness could save her:
1.
Grace was dressed head to toe in guys clothing.
Jeans that were meant to be skinny were held on her hips by a belt.
Grace looked unclean and unhealthy.
I mean, Id seen junkies that looked in better shape than she did that morning.
(I hadnt really seen that many junkies, but Id seenThe WireandBreaking Bad, which totally counts.)
And thats how it happened.
Thats how I first saw her.
There was no slow-mo, no breeze, no soundtrack, and definitely no skipped heartbeats.
So this is certainly not a story of love at first sight.
But itisa love story.
My life had remained, as always, entirely scandal-free.
You could say I looked something like a male Summer Glau crossed with Severus Snape.
Maybe I never wouldve if it wasnt for the intervention of one Mr. Alistair Hink, English teacher.
Id always been decent at writing, at putting words together.
(Beady and Hink had always been friendly.
I knew (or hoped I knew) why Hink wanted to see me.
Why Mr. Hink wanted to see Grace waslike much else about hera mystery.
CHAPTER 3
GRACE WAS ALREADY waiting outside Hinks office when I got there.
Her blond hair had been washed and brushed.
Grace was sitting with her knees pressed up against her chest, her cane wedged between them.
She was reading a book with tattered pages the color of coffee-stained teeth.
I couldnt see the title, but I could see that it was full of poems.
Two lines in particular had been highlighted.
Hink stepped out of the office then, and Grace snapped the book shut before I could finish.
Oh, good, I see youve met, said Hink when he saw us together.
I stood up quickly, keen to unravel myself from the weird position Id folded my body into.
I wondered for the first time how bad her injury was.
How long had she been like this?
Was she born with a bad leg or did some tragic accident befall her in childhood?
Well, come inside.
I frowned as we sat down, wondering why Grace was here with me.
Youre both here, of course, because of your exceptional writing abilities.
I beg your pardon?
said Hink, clearly taken aback.
No, Grace said again, as if this were explanation enough.
I dont understand, said Hink, his gaze flicking to me with this pleading look in his eyes.
I could practically hear his silent scream for help, but all I could do was shrug.
I dont want to be an editor.
Thank you, really, for thinking of me.
Grace collected her bag from the floor and stood.
I dont write anymore.
Your work is beautiful.
You have a natural gift for words.
And you have a natural gift for cliches.
Hink was so shocked that his mouth popped open.
Grace softened a little.
But theyre just words.
They dont mean anything.
Hink and I sat there in silence, trying to process whatd just happened.
Can we talk about this tomorrow?
I said to Hink, who mustve guessed that I was going after her.
Yes, yes, of course.
Come and see me before class.
Hink shooed me out and I jogged down the corridor, surprised to find that Grace wasnt there.
She could move goddamn fast when she tried.
I sprinted after her, and when I was within earshot, I shouted, Hey!
She turned briefly, looked me up and down, glared, and then kept on walking.
Hey, I said breathlessly when I finally caught up with her and fell in step beside her.
she said, still speed walking, the end of her cane clicking against the road with every step.
A car behind us beeped.
Grace pointed violently at her cane and then waved them around.
Id never seen a vehicle move in a way Id describe assheepishbefore.
, I said, but I couldnt find the words to say what I wanted to say.
I was a decent enough writer, but talking?
That was a bitch.
Well, I hadnt really planned this far into the conversation.
Did you work your ass off?
I dont understand why youre angry.
Theres normally only one editor anyway, right?
The fact that I said no doesnt impact you at all.
Why would you say no?
Because I dont want to do it.
So you see, this is really a win-win for you.
Youre welcome, by the way.
Whyare you still following me, Henry Page?
You know who I am?
And you know who I am, so lets not pretend we dont.
Why are you still following me?
Where do you live?
Right near the Highgate Cemetery.
Come to my place.
As long as you promise not to push the whole editor thing.
You want to turn down an awesome opportunity, thats your decision.
We walked side by side on the hot asphalt.
There were five more minutes of awkward silence where I searched and searched for a question to ask her.
Can I read the rest of that poem?
I said finally, because it seemed like the least worst of all my options.
(Option one: So .
are you, like, a cross-dresser or something?
Not that theres anything wrong with that; Im just curious.
Option two: Whats up with your leg, bro?
Option three: Youre definitely some kind of junkie, right?
I mean, youre fresh out of rehab, yeah?
Option four: Can I read the rest of that poem?)
The Pablo whoever one.
I do not love you.
Or whatever it was.
It was the line about loving dark things that I kept coming back to.
She looked at me with this look of genuine questioning on her face, her eyes narrowed slightly.
I think thats what people say when they read poems they dont understand.
Its sad, I think.
I flinched as though I were in actual pain.
You should have it, if you like it.
Pretty poetry is wasted on me.
I liked people like that.
People who could part with material possessions with little or no hesitation.
The things you own end up owning you and all that.
Graces house was exactly the punch in of place I expected her to live.
The garden was overgrown, gone to seed, the lawn left to grow wild for some time.
Stay here, she said.
Ive got to get my car keys.
I nodded and stood by myself on the front lawn while I waited for her.
The car, like everything else about her, was strange.
Do you have your license?
Grace said from behind me.
These, too, had Strokes paraphernalia attached to them.
Uh, yeah, actually.
I got it a couple of months ago, but I dont have a car yet.
She threw me the keys and walked to the passenger side of the car and pulled out her phone.
After twenty seconds or so, she looked up from her screen, her eyebrows raised.
Are you going to unlock the car or not?
Yes, Henry Page, I want you to drive.
Uh, okay, I guess.
Im a bit rusty, but yeah.
I unlocked the car and opened the door and sat in the drivers seat.
The inside of the car smelled like her, the musky, masculine scent of a teenage boy.
Which was very confusing for me, to say the least.
I started the engineso far, so goodand took a deep breath.
Ill try my best not to kill us both, I said.
My grandmother wouldve looked cooler driving than I did on the journey home.
Are yousureyou passed your driving test?
Hey, I only had to bribetwoofficials.
I swear I mightve almost seen her smile.
So you came from East River, huh?
Whyd you change schools in senior year?
Im all about adventure, she said dryly.
Well, we are a particularly thrilling institution.
I can definitely see the appeal.
Hink seems like a riot.
I bet he gets into all sorts of shenanigans.
Life of the party, that one.
And then, thank God, it was over.
I dont think Ive seen anyone drive that tensely since .
Do you need a minute to compose yourself?
What can I say?
Im a rebel without a cause.
Was I supposed to invite her in?
But then she turned to me and said, Okay.
Ill see you tomorrow.
Theres not much down there but a storm-water drain and a cemetery a block away.
I watched her, entirely puzzled, until she disappeared around the next street corner.
Hola, broseph, said my sister, Sadie, the moment I closed the front door behind me.
Jesus, Suds, you scared the crap outta me, I said, clutching at my chest.
We looked a lot alike: black hair, slightly buggy eyes, dimples when we smiled.
Havent seen or heard from you in, like, two days, kid.
I was starting to think Mom and Dad had murdered you and buried you in a shallow grave.
This was, of course, a strategic lie.
(His fashion sense had rapidly declined after hed moved his carpentry workshop into the backyard three years ago.
Honestly it was a miracle to find him in something other than pajamas.)
Sadie and I got our hair from him.
Or at least, I assumed we did.
The ever-present stubble on his chin was dark, but hed been bald for the majority of my life.
Wed make his grave at least four or five feet deep.
We dont half-ass murder in this house.
Twenty-three years, Suds.
Its been twenty-three years since your goldfish died.
Are you ever going to let it go?
Not until I have my vengeance!
A toddler started crying from the back of the house.
The kid had been, much the same as me, an accident and a surprise.
Ryan, man, whats up?
Henwee, he rasped, rubbing his eyes.
Come on, Ill take you to her.
Whos the girl, by the way?
Sadie asked as I walked back down the hallway holding Ryans hand.
The one who drove you home.
As she scooped Ryan up, Sadie had this thin, lopsided grin on her face.
Id seen that look many times before, when she was a teenager.
It always meant trouble.
Grace is her name.
I missed my bus, so she offered me a ride.
In a weird, Janis Joplin, will probably die at twenty-seven kind of way.
I shrugged and pretended I hadnt noticed.
