4:45 A.M. slowly comes into focus.
Oh, well, I reason with myself. It was going to go off in fifteen minutes anyhow. I fling the thick comforter off of the bed and turn off the alarm.
I’ve had the same nightmare so many times. Less frequently now since Trevor and I have been together, but that doesn’t mean that it stings any less. I suppose calling it a nightmare isn’t even entirely accurate. Not when it actually happened. The morning that changed my life. It is the stuff nightmares are made of. I was only fifteen when someone killed my mom.
****
Sitting in first period today is the same as every other day. Organize books. Tap pencil. Stare off into space thinking about Trevor. Or gymnastics. What the heck am I supposed to talk about in my “confessional” today? My life is so dull. Until the door opens and Grant walks through it. I’d almost forgotten about my absurd reaction to him until right now, when I feel my stomach fill with nervous butterflies again.
Mrs. Drez is already passing out instructions for a partnered assignment by the time he makes his way to our table and sets his backpack down. Grant picks up the paper to examine it before I can.
“Bathymetric charts, huh?” he says.
I nod silently. Smooth, Syd.
Mrs. Drez clears her throat. Like that will even do the slightest bit of good.
“Your partner will be the person sitting next to you.” I glance over and Grant nods at me. Grand. “You’ll need to work together outside of school to get all of this done. It’s due next Wednesday. Have at it.”
“Looks like we’re partners,” Grant says. I have to admit, I’m really glad that he seems to be way too nice to make any jokes about my nosedive yesterday.
“Yep. Can I see that?” Not having my paws on the instructions has me twitchy. I motion for the instruction sheet and he passes the page to me.
I quickly skim the directions and then glance back up at him. Same freakishly white, toothy smile. Same goose bumps covering my arms. Damn.
“This says that we have to meet outside of school—”
“I’m free anytime. How about you?” he says.
“Actually, I’m fairly busy,” I say. It comes out all wrong and he doesn’t give me a chance to finish.
“Oh, okay. Well, I can just do the project if that’d be easier for you,” Grant says. He shifts his body away from me slightly and it surprises me how much I don’t like that.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I just have a lot going on. I can’t do right after school or anything, but I can meet up in the evenings if that’s okay with you.”
He smiles warmly at me. “Yep, evenings are fine. How about tonight?”
All right, Mr. Eager.
I think for a minute about what I may have going on. Just one thing. As usual.
“Tonight works. I have gym until six, then I’m free,” I tell him.
“Gym?”
“Yeah,” I catch myself twirling my hair around my finger like a total dimwit. “I do gymnastics.”
“No kidding. Not at the place out on Parker Lane, huh?” he asks.
“Yep, Sam’s Gymnastics Academy. Since I was three.” I can’t tell if that sounds impressive or really lame.
“That’s right around the corner from my house. I noticed it on my way to school. You could just come over to my place if you’d like, since you’ll be right there already,” he offers.
That was logical. And makes the whole, “going to a strange guys house after dark” thing a little less weird since it’s in a familiar area.
“That’s great. I’ll be by about six-thirty.”
Grant scribbles something onto a piece of paper and slides it toward me. I glance down at his address and phone number.
“See you tonight then,” he says. The confidence in his voice matches his smile, and I inappropriately swoon a little bit inside.
The lunch room is noisy and crowded as always. Even more so today because a camera guy from the show is here filming some test shots, so even the kids that don’t typically eat on campus are here, wanting their chance to be on TV. I set my lunch down across from one of my best friends, Tessa, and try to ignore the camera in the corner of the room.
“Syd! I’ve been waiting to talk to you all day! Are we going dress shopping tonight, or what?” Tessa is beaming. I hate that I’m about to let her down.
“What? Did you finally ask him?” I ask. Tess had been struggling for weeks about whether or not she should ask Oliver to prom.
“Yes! So, tonight?” Tessa’s voice is pleading.
Quinn is the next to show up, plopping down next to Tess.
“Shopping yes, but not tonight,” I say.
Tessa’s mouth puckers downward into an exaggerated frown.
I laugh, just as Trevor appears. He kisses the top of my head and then straddles the bench seat, wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me in closer to him. I love how close he always wants me.
“Sorry, Tess, I’ve got an Oceanography project I have to work on tonight. I’m all yours tomorrow, though,” I explain.
“Oceanography? On a Friday night? Isn’t that supposed to be, like, a cake class? Aquarium field trips and tide pools and all that?” Quinn asks while peering inside her lunch bag.
“Yeah, that’d be nice. We’re making bathymetric charts,” I say.
“Bath-a-who?” Quinn asks, pulling out several small Tupperware from her bag. No doubt she has whipped up some amazing culinary creation that will put my usual, plain boiled chicken breast to shame.
“It’s a map of the ocean floor,” I say with a laugh.
“You need help, baby? I still have most of my projects from when I took that class last year,” Trevor offers.
“No thanks. You know I’m not a cheater,” I joke. “Besides, it’s a partnered project, it shouldn’t be too much work,” I say.
“Depends on who your partner is,” Tessa pipes in. She, like me, usually ends up doing the majority of the work in any paired assignment. It’s just easier that way, to ensure that things get done right and on time. I look up from my lunch and realize that everyone at the table is waiting on my answer.
“It’s Grant Evans,” I answer as nonchalantly as possible.
Quinn snorts.
I’d assumed no one would know who I was talking about. Clearly I’d underestimated Quinn’s hottie radar.
“Grant Evans, the new guy Grant Evans?” Quinn asks with a squeak.
“Yep. That’s him,” I mutter.
“Oh holy hell, he’s gorgeous!” she blurts out. “Let me know if you want me to take your place in Oceanography, Syd. Seriously. Sex-on-a-stick that one is. You can go to my Bio Two class. Take a crack at raising my grade.” Quinn is laughing hysterically, and I’m sort of wishing it was possible to stab someone with your eyes.
Trevor’s eyes are on me, I can feel them. Like his tightening grasp on my hand, they have that kind of weight behind them.
“Gorgeous, huh?” he says. His tone is light, almost sarcastic. Clearly he isn’t worried, right?
I fumble through my backpack— looking for…nothing.
“Yeah, I didn’t actually notice that, but thanks for the offer, Quinn.” I work to make my voice even and casual.
“I love that you’re partners,” Quinn continues to giggle through her words. “Isn’t that, like, how you and Trevor hooked up?” I shake my head at her with a pleading glance for her to shut up. We’ve been best friends for years, but right now, I’d love to pretend that I don’t know her.
Trevor narrows his eyes Quinn’s direction. There’s a mutual dislike between them that I can’t get to the bottom of. It’s hard when your best friend and your boyfriend don’t like each other. There isn’t ever a light banter with the three of us; it’s always work. No double dates. No looking out for each other.
“So, anyway, are we not talking about the fact that there is a dude filming you over there, Syd?” Quinn asks. I can see how those reality stars tune the cameras out, it has only bee
n a couple of days of them following me and I’ve already almost stopped noticing.
“We were trying not to,” I say. “And he’s not filming me, he’s just testing the lighting and stuff in here.”
Trevor pushes his tray away as if he has suddenly lost his appetite.
“Sorry,” Quinn mouths. She doesn’t really look all that sorry.
“I thought you said that you turned them down?” Trevor says through tight lips.
“No, I said that they’d probably turn me down,” I say. “We’ve been over this, Trevor.”
“Whatever,” Trevor mumbles. I don’t really understand how pretending we hadn’t already had it out about this topic is helpful.
“Anyway, shopping tomorrow gals?” Tessa, the saint, says, changing the subject.
She pulls a stack of glossy magazines from her tote and slams them onto the table.
“That’s my cue to leave!” Trevor smiles and kisses me quickly before heading to the other side of the table to sit with his friends.
“Thank you,” I mouth to Tess.
-Four—
I rush through my workout after school. Sam can tell that I’m just not focused, and asks me several times if I’m okay. I tell him that I am, of course. I’m not sure what is bothering me, or why I feel so uneasy. If it’s that I still hadn’t talked to my dad about prom, or Grant invading my thoughts, or worrying that things with Trevor and I would go downhill because of the documentary. It’s all just a little too much.
I hadn’t planned on doing anything after school when I’d left this morning, so I didn’t pack any extra clothes or my toiletry bag to freshen up before I head over to Grant’s house. I throw on some sweat pants and an oversized sweatshirt over my leotard, and try my best to smooth out my ponytail. After about five minutes of only succeeding in creating more lumps, I give up. Who am I trying to impress after all?
Sam had given me some general directions to Grant’s street. Driving down the road, I couldn’t help but gawk to myself at the enormity of the homes. I knew the houses in this area were big, but this road is unbelievable. The homes are larger and larger the further down the street I go. I have to strain my eyes in the darkness to see the addresses on the dimly lit street. The road curves slightly as I slow just in time to see a mailbox at the end of a shell-covered road with 4429 printed on it. This is it. It doesn’t even look like there could be a house there. I turn cautiously down the dark driveway, imagining all sorts of ridiculous things along the lines of a Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I’m seriously considering turning back around. I don’t know Grant from Adam, and really, it’s just plain creepy back here. Just as my imagination has very nearly gotten the best of me, the road widens and reveals a sprawling, two-story brick estate home, surrounded by massive oak trees. Several lights are on in the house, making it look warm and inviting, despite its overwhelming size. The sense of dread in my stomach vanishes, but the nerves over seeing my lab partner are still there.
I park in the circular driveway and slowly walk up the large white steps, careful not to fall like I did yesterday at school. When I reach the massive mahogany front door, I’m surprised by a petite woman, who opens the door to greet me before I can even knock. In all my anxiousness about working with Grant, I hadn’t even taken into account meeting his parents. Grant must get his height from his father, he’s at least 6’2”, and this woman, his mom, I guess, is almost as short as I am. She’s dressed casually in dark blue jeans and a black sweater, her shiny black hair that also doesn’t match Grant’s light brown mess, is pulled back into a neat bun.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly. “Um, Mrs. Evans?”
She laughs lightly.
“Come on in,” she says, holding the door wide open for me to walk through. “I’m not Mrs. Evans, I’m Julie. Grant’s expecting you, he’s around here somewhere.”
I follow her into the foyer. The house is sprawling. The ceilings are higher than any I have seen before. Even the oversized furniture appears dwarfed in this space. I’m grateful when I see Grant coming down the wide, winding staircase. He smiles and runs his hand through his thick, messy hair. He’s dressed casually in a pair of worn-out blue jeans and a vintage-looking t-shirt. I notice that neither he nor Julie are wearing shoes. For a second, I contemplate kicking mine off as well.
“Hey, Sydney, come on it. Did you meet Jules?” he asks.
I nod and smile at Julie.
“She sort of runs things around here,” Grant says.
“You two need anything before I head out for a bit?” Julie asks.
“I think we’re good. Thanks,” Grant says. Julie leaves through the front door, and I follow Grant into another part of the house.
“I thought that…never mind,” I say.
“Jules was my mom? No. Although, she is here more than my mom,” he says.
We stop in the kitchen. It’s modern and full of granite and stainless steel, and really belongs in a home decorating magazine. Grant pauses on the opposite side of the kitchen island and looks at me from under a thick piece of hair. I fight the urge to push it out of his face. That’s just weird, Syd.
“My mom travels a lot, so Jules takes care of everything. She’s been with us since I was five. Anyway, I think I’ve got everything that we need here,” he says. He finally pushes the stray hair back and I can’t help but audibly sigh.
Grant had laid out poster boards and colored paper and X-Acto knives for the chart.
“Wow, you are way ahead of me, here,” I say. I sort of feel like a jerk for not even thinking of any of this stuff.
“Well, I didn’t have much to do. But you, you came straight from gym right? Are you hungry?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”
He narrows his eyes at me as if he doesn’t believe me.
“If you have a bottle of water that’d be great,” I say.
“That, I do,” he says. He turns to the large stainless steel refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water and a large bowl of fruit.
“You know, just in case you were to get hungry,” he says, setting both in front of me.
I really am starving; I just didn’t want to be any trouble.
“So, you said you’ve been doing gymnastics since you were really little, huh?” Grant asks. He leans against the refrigerator with his arms casually crossed over his sturdy-looking chest.
“Yep, about thirteen years now,” I say. I’m not exactly comfortable talking about myself. Which is super convenient since I’m getting paid to do it for this documentary.
“Impressive,” he says.
I reach over and pull a green grape from its stem. Grant gives a little smirk that screams satisfaction as he watches me delve into the bowl of fresh fruit.
“What about you? What brought you to Georgia?” I ask.
“Eh, nothing interesting,” he says. “We move around a lot.”
“What do your parents do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
He shifts his weight, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time since I met him.
“My parents are split up. My dad is still in New York; mom is here with me…sometimes. Like I said, she’s rarely around.” It’s strange how he seems uncomfortable, but still speaks of their absence offhandedly.
“I’m sorry. That must be hard for you,” I say.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Not really, I’m used to it. Plus, Jules is basically family and keeps things running…”
“Well, that’s good,” I say, not really sure what else to add.
“So, what was up with the cameras at lunch today?” he asks.
“Oh, that? You probably think I’m a total freak show. They were doing some test shots for this documentary I’m a part of.”
“A documentary? Really?”
“Yeah, sort of following young, Olympic bound athletes. Kind of like a reality show, but just one show. They want to see our real lives. Like I have anything interesting to show…” I let my voice trail off.
�
��I’m sure you’re fascinating.”
His dark green eyes don’t leave mine as he talks. I can’t help but brush my hand insecurely across my cheeks to ensure that I don’t have anything on my face.
“Well, what about this chart?” I say, breaking his stare.
Grant and I are able to get a ton done on the project. All the while, holding a steady conversation. Grant’s easy to talk to. It’s not like when I first met Trevor, and was so anxious around him, I couldn’t hold a conversation. Something about Grant is warm. Comfortable. At school, I always felt like the girls avoided me, waiting for me to mess up so that they could swoop in on Trevor. Or that the teachers were waiting for me to crack under the pressure of school and gym and the loss of my mom. But with Grant, it’s just…easy.
I can’t stifle the deep yawn, just as the clock above the stove chimes.
“Would you mind if we finished this up another day?” I ask.
“I see, trying to drop the ball, huh?” Grant says with a grin.
“No, nothing like that, I’m just exhausted.”
“I’m kidding, Sydney. How about Monday after your workout?”
“Sounds good.” I grab my purse and head for the front door.
Julie is stacking towels in a linen closet in the hall and waves goodbye. It isn’t until I’m about to close the enormous front door that I notice Grant is still right behind me.
“Okay, goodnight,” I say.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says, following me out the door.
“You really don’t have to do that, it’s right here,” I laugh. “And this isn’t exactly a dangerous neighborhood.”
“I don’t mind.” He shrugs.
I wave one last time before getting in my car. Grant waits until I’m in the car, with the ignition running before he turns around and walks back to the gargantuan house with his hands in his jeans pockets. I know he said it doesn’t bother him to be alone, but at that moment, I can’t help but feel bad leaving him.
****
Even though it’s Saturday, I still end up rushing around to get out the door to pick up Quinn and Tessa.
I’d already been to the gym and back home to change. I really should have had plenty of time, but I find myself moving slowly. Dad is busy working in his office when I’m finally set to leave.
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