Chapter 10
819 Words
Why are the assholes always rich? He lives on the top floor of the building and everything is so...
Futuristic. Clear panels, tidy, clean, and I'm pretty sure he has a maid to take care of all this.
As soon as I notice Grant leaning against a table, I wire my mouth closed from its original gape
and glare. He just stares at people and it's So creepy.
"You know most people would offer a drink or a snack," I say trying to make him stop being
weird.
"You are a snack," he says with the least amount of subtly I've ever heard.
1...2...3...4...5. Stay. Calm.
"Let's get to studying," I say taking my book bag off and putting it on the white leather couch.
"This way," Grant says suddenly taking off down a hall like his pants are on fire.
I fight a groan and pick my bag back up, following him down the long space. I internally beg that
it's not- yep.
His room.
I stop in front of the only door that has a light on, the one I'm sure Grant ran off to. Looking
inside, I see it all pretty much brown and blue, a strange combination. Grant lays on the bed with
his hands behind his head.
"Come on," he chides. "Don't be shy."
A small shiver of discomfort rolls down my spine and I told my retort, taking in a deep breath
instead. It smells of musk. Like there's no actual odor, but clean and dirty laundry mix the smell
into something... Weird. Like him.
Okay. Just get through this Savannah.
I sit on the other side of the bed and start pulling out my notebooks.
"Mr. Alshote gave me the paper for the project in advance. We have to catch you up before we
start though. Our topic I-"
"Hold up Happy Death Day," he says shooting up to a sit. "Remember what I said about hanging
out first? I can't learn school stuff if I don't know you yet."
I nearly crumple the page on one of my notebooks in frustration.
Fine.
"My name is Savannah, I like the color green, call of duty is my favorite video game, I'm afraid
of monkeys, and I want to go home. Can we start now?"
Grant smiles and leans back slowly.
"You need a chill pill Sav. Maybe you'd wa- never mind...um. I'll tell you about me now. I'm
Grant, I live with my big brother Kingsley, this is the fifth school I've been to, and you're the
only person there I can stand."
I can't help but be confused by every part of that statement. First, how can he stand me when I've
been trying to scare him away? I almost feel bad for being so rude when he just wanted a friend,
but this isn't the question I'm choosing to focus on.
"You live with your brother?"
Grant nods.
"Yeah my parents are... Unavailable."
I think about my parent’s trip to Korea next week and wonder if it's something like that.
"Unavailable how?" I pry.
Grant shrugs.
"They're dead."
A pang of guilt pinches at me and I frown.
"That sucks."
Then he surprises me. He laughs. A real genuine laugh.
"What?" I ask wondering what's funny about death.
"Most people apologize. I hear alot of "I'm sorry's" but I doubt anyone means it. I was right to
pick you," he says sounding proud of himself.
Now I'm even more confused.
"Pick me for what?"
"You'll see," he says smiling vaguely and sitting back up. "I'll live precariously through you. Tell
me about your parents."
And so, I do. For the next hour and a half, we exchange stories, talking and laughing like we're
old friends. It's too bad I judged him so quick. He's actually pretty cool to hang out with.
"So, my foot is shoved in there all the way right? It's trapped and I'm freaking the hell out cause
I'm claustrophobic, then the possum is having a seizure and I still have half of my burned
Blondie cake left," Grant says intriguing me more than ever.
"What did you do?!" I laugh uncontrollably.
"Well I-"
"He sacrificed his favorite shoe, ripping the leather as he yanked his foot out and cut along his
ankles in the process, which made him stumble and fall face first into what was left of the
Blondie cake. And that was the day Grant learned not to try and steal possums from their traps in
the middle of a picnic that had surrounding woods filled with bear traps," a deep voice says
humorously from the door way.
I turn to put a face to the voice, my heart stopping as I make eye contact with an actual God.
Holy hell. Who is this?
"Hey! What was going on there was inhumane," Grant defends behind me. "Savannah, meet my
idiot brother Kingsley."
- Writer
