Perilous (Harry Styles)

chapter 18

With a rush of excitement, I banged the pile of mail on the kitchen table and sat down on the floor, too nervous to pull out a chair from the table.

The size of the letter gave me hope. Surely they would send my application back if they didn’t take me.

Fidgeting with the paper, and sadly cutting a finger, I finally held the letter in my hand, reading over it twice to make sure I wasn’t mistaken.

“I’m in!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing through the empty house. A loud scream escaped my lips, probably deafening the neighbor’s cat outside our kitchen windowsill.

This day has been a high so far, not one single thing dragging down my mood.

I couldn’t wait to tell Harry the news, I knew he’d be happy for me. As long as one of his kids wasn’t one of my patients.

With nothing else to do, I got dressed as fast as I could. I knew I’d regret my choice of wearing dark blue skinny jeans once I was out in the sun, but the white ruffled top I was wearing looked best with them.

I nearly left a note on the kitchen table for my parents, but in the last second I remembered that I had the house all for myself.

With my smile burned-in, I left the house and relaxingly walked to the bus stop, music blaring from my headphones.

Once the bus stopped for me, I got in and took a seat in a quad, opposite from an older lady.

One of my earphones got entangled with my bag and slipped out of my ear, giving the woman the chance to start talking to me.

“You remind me so much of my granddaughter!” The woman excitedly clapped her hands together and spun the golden ring on her left hand.

I smiled politely at her, hoping she wouldn’t continue talking so I could put my earphone back in without coming across as rude, but I was out of luck.

“She’s starting college next month,” the woman bubbled, her eyes watering a bit.

Dear Lord, if she started crying now, I would throw all my manners aside and just walk away, sitting down in the very back of the bus.

“Poor girl,” I mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t hear me.

“She’s so excited,” she continued.

She looked like the perfect grandmother, small, a bit pudgy, gray hair and wrinkles everywhere. I had to admit that she was quite cute.

“You sound more excited than her,” I responded politely, my happy smile dimming down a bit.

It was hard to focus on her words when Avril Lavigne was singing into your ear and every cell in your body begged for you to just jam along to the song.

“Oh, yes, I am! I already planned her sweet cornet!”

The woman reminded me of that grandma in Madagascar who always hit the lion.

Hang on. Did she just say her granddaughter will get a sweet cornet?

“That’s… wonderful,” I managed to say with a straight face. Cheers to me for that one.

“I know! Last week she told me just how…” And on and on she went.

By the time I reached the bus stop I was supposed to get off, my cheeks were hurting from keeping the forced smile on my lips.

The woman nearly didn’t want to let me go but I escaped the bus faster than you could scream for help.

Thank God I wasn’t an elderly care nurse. But to be fair, some old people had interesting stories to tell. It was also somewhat interesting and scary to see how their minds changed with age.