The door is answered by an old man.
I frown, and he frowns, and I wonder if I've got the wrong damn building. "Uh, hi," I murmur. "Sorry, I think I have the wrong - "
"Who is it, Gramps?" Just then, I hear a different voice, a familiar voice. Josh appears by the old man's side, wearing deep blue jeans and a black T-shirt that hugs his shoulders and chest. His green eyes go wide at the sight of me. "Clare. You're here."
I crack a smile. "I guess I am."
"Your friend, Joshua?" the old man asks, turning curious eyes to his ... grandson? Must be. Josh nods, and the old man gestures for me to enter.
"Come in, come in. I'm Joshua's grandfather. You can call me Mr. Grier. That there is Joshua's grandmother." He points to an old lady reading in the corner. She looks at me for a moment, then hoists herself up.
"Hello," she chirps. Her round cheeks flush warm and pink, and her eyes are bright. She is happy to have me, and the unfamiliarity of being so welcomed strikes me.
"Hi," I reply politely. "I'm Clare. Josh's friend from school."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Clare. Would you like something to eat?"
"Oh, no, that's OK. I really just came to talk to - "
"You know what? I have a tone of cake in the fridge. You can help me finish it."
"Well, I - "
"You will help me finish it," she decides before I can argue. "Would you like something to drink with that?"
I pause, looking over at Josh. He's standing near a faded purple couch, arms over his chest as he watches us. I get the feeling I've fallen into some kind of test, and he wants to see how I'll do. "OK," I relent.
Mrs. Grier scuttles off, and Mr. Grier hobbles over to the couch. He sits down before a half-finished puzzle, mulling to himself. I can't help noticing that the TV over by the wall isn't on, which seems to make this place way too quiet. Or maybe it just feels quiet compared to how things are at my house these days.
I notice Josh walking towards me. He clears his throat. "So. Now, you've met my family."
"Where are your parents?"
"Dad walked out when I was really little. My mom died a couple of years ago."
"Oh. I'm sorry." It comes out fast, the only thing you'd be able to think of to say. It doesn't mean nearly enough, I know.
Josh smiles. "It's OK. It's been a while." Gently, he grasps my wrist. "Maybe we should talk in my room."
Oh my God. I'm going to see Josh's bedroom?
I let him lead the way to a door down the hall. He opens it, leaning against the frame to let me enter. The lights are off, but I can see a little by the moonlight falling in through the sheer white curtains. A narrow bed sits facing me, covered in messy, plain blankets in a shade of olive green. The walls are plastered with band and movie posters, and inked doodles of everything from buxom women to nightmarish monsters. There are two desks, one with an old-looking computer that looks ready to come apart, and another piled high with mounds of books and papers. A red plaid shirt hugs a chair. A watch lies dead, stopped at three thirty. I see a dartboard on the wall next to me, several tiny holes beside it telling of bad aim.
Josh picks up a pair of jeans lying on the floor, self-consciously tossing them into a corner. "Sorry. You know me. A slob."
I lift my shoulders cluelessly. I'm not sure what to do with myself, where to stand in this place so intense with his doings, his presence.
"So why'd you come?" he asks, saying the words in a sigh. He gestures for me to sit on the bed, but I shyly take the chair by the computer. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to see you. But I didn't think you'd be in trouble this fast."
"I'm not. I didn't come here for myself. I came here for Erin."
He stiffens at the mention of her name. He starts to say something, but then we hear a rap at the door. Mrs. Grier pokes her head in, grinning.
"Clare?" She holds out a plate smothered by cake, as well as a cup of milk. I hate milk, and there's no way I could ever eat so much, but I take them anyway, thanking her and nudging the door shut.
I pass the milk to Josh. "I hate milk."
He takes the glass from me, plonking it down on his desk - a little too hard. Gleaming white drops spill over the edge, spreading freely on some forgotten homework assignments.
"Alright, explain to me what's going on. What do you mean, you're here because of Erin?"
"She asked me to talk to you."
He shoots me a very skeptical look.
"I didn't think it was any of my business but she seemed really serious about it."
"What did she want you to talk to me about?"
I don't answer right away. I do not want to go into this. But I'm already here, and I made a promise to Erin. I pick at my cake, putting some in my mouth. I am so stalling.
Josh narrows his eyes at me. "Clare .... "
"She's upset because you do stuff like skip school and - and I don't know what else."
He stares. He leans back against his desk, thinking. Wild, dark locks slip lazily into his eyes.
"Oh." He folds his arms over the front of his T-shirt, and I can't help noticing the way his arms swell with the movement. "So she thought maybe you might get through to me?"
"Like I said, I really don't think it's any of my business."
"So why'd you come?"
"I ... I don't know." I eat a little more cake, hiding my eyes.
"She can't tell me how to live my life."
"She's just concerned about you."
"She's trying to change me."
"For the better."
"Better?" he repeats. "What's better? That hellhole called school? Is she kidding?"
"Erin just wants to help you. She cares about you."
He gazes at the floor for a second. I start to worry that I've made him angry. But before I can add anything else, he lets out a pained sigh. "I care about her too," he tells me quietly. "But I don't want her trying to change me. Her or anybody." He stares at me, and I know he's talking about me.
"I'm sorry," I croak. "I shouldn't have come."
"No, I'm happy that you did. I'm just not happy with the reason." Casually, he walks over, shadowing me. He takes the plate from my hand, setting it on the table with the milk. "Anyway, enough about that," his voice is different this time. "Tell me about you. How are things at your house? With your dad?"
"The same."
"Hmm." He runs a finger down his chin, over bits of faint brown stubble. "Maybe you guys need to talk to him."
"That won't work. He'd just get angry and - " I stop myself, ducking my head under Josh's stare.
"And what?"
"Nothing. I just don't want to make him mad, OK?"
"What about your mom?"
I scoff. "All they do is argue. She couldn't get him to get off his ass, so she went out and got some shitty job. I wish she would quit, but if she did, there wouldn't be any money for bills."
Josh shakes his head, breathing in a sharp drag. "Geez. Your dad sure is a piece of work."
You have no idea, Josh. I turn away, sauntering to the window. I step behind the flimsy curtains, looking out. The air is cold and sharp, waking me as it sweeps across my skin. I am looking out over the neighborhood, over scattered lights, shadowy streets and figures darting and scurrying like insects. Toledo Avenue looks so different from up here.
Josh steps in beside me, and I shift to give him room.
"Depressing, isn't it?" he remarks.
"No, I don't think so."
"You are so weird."
"There's a lot to see here, if you look close enough."
"To you, maybe. But I can't wait to move out."
I turn sideways to look at him. Pale moonlight rests on the side of his face, and his eyes shimmer. "You can move out when you go to college."
"Yeah. Don't get me wrong. I love Gramps and Gran but this place is just ... ugh."
"I can't wait to leave for college too."
"Yeah?"
"You'll graduate first though." I can't help sounding disappointed.
Josh chuckles quietly. "Hey, maybe I can wait for you. It's only one year. We could go to the same college, and then you know, we could still see each other."
"Oh," I manage to find my voice. "That would be pretty cool." I look up into his face, the both of us falling silent. I can't stop staring at him. And I realize he won't stop staring at me either.
The next thing I know, his lips are on mine. Soft. Cool. It's perfect, but I'm shocked. Really shocked. I push him back on instinct, and he stares at me, not knowing what to say. His face shows a mix of feelings, which is just how I feel. Maybe worse.
I turn on my heel, striding out. I half-expect him to follow me or to call my name, but he doesn't. He just sighs.
"Leaving so soon?" Mr. Grier asks as I barrel into the living room. His wife waves a hand.
"Honey, why don't you take back some of that cake for your - "
"Thanks but I have to run. Sorry. You've both been great. It was nice meeting you. Bye." A rush of words, and then I'm out in the hall, the door to apartment 3C safely shut behind me.
Oh my God. I am in big trouble.