Chapter 6

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 I pull out the frozen pizza from the oven and drop it on top. I turn around, "Woah, Jessica you scared me. What are you doing up?" I take off the mittens and apron.

"Well...I kind of want to ask you something?"

I freeze, "What's wrong?"

Jessica shakes her head, "Oh nothing, it's just well, I was invited to a friend's house. And I wanted to go."

I hesitate, "Well, did you ask Peyton?"

she fidgets with her legs swinging them around, " well, no but she left on Wednesday remember? And won't be back till Monday again. And it is barely Saturday. Please I really want to go. Just this once."

I sigh, "Ok Ok, what time do you have to be there?"

She gives a nervous laugh, "in a few minutes."

I look at the ceiling and bite my lower lip, " So like we have to leave right now?"

She lets out a nervous laugh, "Actually, they're waiting outside for me."

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The only sound that was left was the popping sound of the water being boiled on the stove. The house was too quiet. Even after I poured myself some butterscotch tea it wasn't enough. There is no one around and no one to be accountable for, which means I can do one thing. Get out. Out of the house. And this is where I am. Downtown. Downtown GRendale.

Downtown GRendale is a busy place, an hour away from the white house. A small shopping center half of it looks like a town and there other like a city's square. The bus was nearly empty compared to other times. I walk down the crosswalk, keeping my bag at my side, clutching it not only because it is cold, but for security. I stop at the post office and give them my key. They as for my ID and then give me my letter. Every month I try to come to GRendale, my parent's lawyer always sends a letter. I reach the ATM and input my card. No one knows about the monthly letters or the card, and no one should. The reason I have a phone and a bus card is solely for this card. My parent's lawyer gave me this card and told me it was mine to use but to be careful to not lose sight of it. I only ever use it when I need to and when I can get out of the house alone. No one knows about this money, not even Jessica.

I order a Vanilla latte with extra whip cream and caramel syrup. I take a seat and pull out my book after I order. The Grindhouse, as many people may call it the Grind. I have been coming here since I was very young, I was allowed to walk from home to here. But now I can only come when no one can drag me away.

"Here you go," a lady places my latte on the table.

I thank her and start to unwrap my scarf, "Hey, how are you?" I look up and stare at the lady talking to me.

I have never seen her in my life, "Sorry, I don't...."

"Oh yes, you do. I am Olivia Robert. I worked in the commutations department remember?" she interrupts. I stare at her confused.

"I used to work at the relations department before your parents had that horrible accident remember?" she continues.

"Mrs. Olive?" I ask trying to remember.

"Yes, you got it. It's been so long since I last saw you. You were just starting high school, weren't you? Then that horrible thing happened to your parents. So dreadful. How are the Whites? You are very lucky they took you in. You would've been begging in the streets if it weren't for them, they are such compassionate people aren't they." I give her the most forced smile.

Every time, I come to GRendale I always make a stop at Grace cemetery. I look at my wristwatch and sigh. It's exactly 1:00, the next bus will come at 2. I walk around the area and try to push out the words of Mrs. Roberts. Compassionate, if only she knew. I start reading the gravestones. Peter Jackson. Rose James. Matthew Jones. Lily John. And there it is. Allen and Sarah Johnson. I feel my eyes water, my face feels extremely hot, even though it's mid-fall. My legs start to feel weak, so I sit down and cross my legs. I trace the letters with my fingers.

"I miss you," I whisper as a tear escapes from my eyes.

I see someone pass by. Embarrassed I bury my face on my legs and try to dry them on my cold jeans.

"Hey," a warm voice speaks. As I look up to see the voice, I dry my face with the sleeves of my jacket.

"Hi," I clear my throat.

"Mind if I sit," She gives me a small smile and gestures towards the spot next to me.

"No, not really." I cross my legs again.

"You ok?" She asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I look down at the grass.

"I'm honey by the way." She stretches her hand toward me.

"What?" I asked a little concerned, "Sure?"

She laughs a little, " No silly, my name is Honey. Honey Wilson."

I slightly embarrassed I shake her hand, "Oh Abigail Johnson."

"I take it you're visiting your relatives." she nods toward the tombstones.

"Yeah" I pause and think about what to say next. "My parents actually."

There's a very long pause. She gives me a warm smile.

"you know, I don't understand why they left without me. I was happy. And now. Now I live with two complete strangers. I wish I were the one that died that day."

"I know what you mean." Ms. Honey comforts.

I scoff, what would she know. I live with two strangers. "Right."

Mrs. honey, " My brother was a baby when he was killed."

My eyes widen at this information. I look at her. She pats my knee.

"He was killed by my step-mom. she didn't want any of us. I was very bitter at life for letting my brother died. He was a baby. He didn't deserve it, yet he was the one that died. I was very angry and hated my life." she paused, " But you know I am alive because I was chosen to stay. You can hate it, run away, or you can live for the ones that didn't get to. One thing I learned is that Life sometimes doesn't just give you lemons, rather a mixture of everything."

She hands me a bottle of juice. She stands up, "All I can say is that your alive, that counts for something." She checks her watch, "I have to leave, but it was nice meeting you. " she waves goodbye.

I watch her leave. I look at the bottle, it doesn't seem open. I take a sip. I pause in shock. I look at the label. Pear Apple juice.






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