CHAPTER TWO
GRACE
Every morning I wished for the same thing: for my gym teacher, Coach Bishop, to fall ill. I had nothing against the good coach, but just the idea of gym class was enough to give me hives. Literally.
However, in my two months at Triple Oaks, my wish had never been granted. It wasn't that I hated exercise or sports. On the contrary, I enjoyed running, swimming, volleyball, and a handful of other physical activities. What I didn't enjoy was a co-ed gym class filled with people who were out to get me.
I let out a frustrated sigh as Coach Bishop entered, yelling as he wheeled a rack of balls onto the court.
"Fall in line!"
Everyone dropped what they were doing and headed to the front of the gym, arranging themselves in an orderly line of boys on one side, girls on the other. I took my time, emerging out of the shadows of the bleachers at the last second, in no particular hurry to take my rightful place behind everyone else.
"Number off. Ones and twos," Coach said as he made his way down the line, pointing at each student as they spouted their number.
"Two," I whispered as he reached the end of the line.
"Ones on this side," he motioned to the interior wall, "and twos on the other."
We split off as Coach grabbed the two tallest guys in class, Charles something-or-other and Miles O'Fallon, the boy from my English class who had, for some unknown reason, gone out of his way to be nice to me. The three of them made their way to the center of the court and hoisted a volleyball net into place.
Awesome.
Volleyball was something I was actually good at. And aside from someone from the opposing team spiking a ball into my face, there was very little chance I could get hurt. Well, unless someone from my own team decided to trip me, which was totally plausible.
"Wildstone and Hopper, you're up to serve first!"
Great...
Coach tossed the ball over the net and, luckily, I caught it. The last thing I needed was to go scrambling after the ball and fall on my face.
"Line it up," Coach called as I made my way behind the painted line on the gym floor, trying my best not to let a wave of anxiety drag me under. "Let's see what you got!"
Even as my hands shook, I lifted the ball in front of me.
It's just a ball. It's just a net. It's just a game.
Just. Breathe.
After taking one deep breath to center myself, I softly tossed the ball in the air, brought my right arm back, and smack!, sent it sailing over the net in an overhanded serve.
"Nice!" Coach called, clapping as the ball went into play on the opposing side.
Before I'd even had a chance to step over the line, the ball was sailing right back.
"I got it!" A tall blonde yelled.
She bumped it to a short guy with shaggy hair and he tapped it with his fingertips, sending it in a perfect arc right in front of me. I didn't even think, didn't hesitate. I took one, two, three steps and ran forward to spike it over the net.
Point.
"Woo!" My team cheered and I felt something akin to a smile tug at my mouth.
"Nice spike, Grace."
The familiar voice caught me off guard and I stumbled as my head snapped up to see if I was hearing things. I wasn't.
On the other side of the net, Miles O'Fallon was clapping. His vibrant green eyes glowed happily as he widened his stance and readied himself for the next serve. When he combed a single hand through his thick, disheveled hair in an attempt to get it out of his face, I hid my flushing cheeks and took my place on the court. Something about the way he looked at me had my heart thundering wildly in my chest, and that was something I needed to avoid.
"Whose team are you on, homo?"
Damn, Anthony...
Miles should have kept his mouth shut. The last thing I needed was Anthony taunting someone else because of me. However, when I lifted my eyes toward the net, Miles was smiling, completely unperturbed by Anthony's remark.
After that, I shut out the opposing team, focusing only on the ball volleying back and forth across the net. I was able to lose myself in the game, something I hadn't been able to do in a long, long time.
Aside from Anthony on the other side of the court, no one made a jab at the way my shoulders hunched forward while my hair thrashed freely in front of my face. No one commented on the way I ran as if I were running from something instead of scurrying across the court to bump a ball over a net. And no one said a word about how I didn't call the ball when it came sailing my way.
It was easy. Fun. The way a high school gym class should be.
That should have been my first clue right there that things were about to go dreadfully, horrifically wrong.
The ball sailed over and I got into position- knees bent, arms stretched out in front of me, ready to bump the ball so the blonde in front of me could set it in motion for shaggy hair to spike back over.
"Grace has it!" Blondie called, hands already outstretched for the next hit.
And then, before I could make heads or tails of anything, my world came to a screeching halt. I sucked in a breath as my eyes blinked furiously, trying to clear the haze obstructing my peripheral vision. My limbs went cold as they lifted up in an instinctual defensive pose. Before I could stop them, my feet tangled beneath me and I fell flat on my backside, barely registering the pain shooting through my pelvis as terror threatened to choke the breath from my lungs.
"Grace!" Someone yelled in the distance.
The ball sailed past my head, whipping my hair out of my face with its speed. But I didn't even flinch. Instead, I braced myself as two pale blue eyes and lips smeared with dark red lipstick obstructed my view. There was no escaping. Not this time. She was too fast, too close.
"Help me! Please, make it stop!" The distraught woman cried, spraying spit in my face as I used my legs to propel myself backward, away from the apparition.
Her wild, lost eyes never blinked, never wavered. The darkness surrounding her threatened to engulf me and I held my breath, scared to look away. My entire body trembled at the sight as adrenaline took hold of my heart.
No! Not now! Not here!
"It hurts!" She cried again, a string of red drool exploding from her mouth as tears leaked over her cheeks. "It hurts so much. I just want it to stop!"
"I... I'm sorry," I stuttered as my back hit the gym wall. There was nowhere else to go. No escape. I was trapped.
She slapped both hands against the concrete wall above my head and I coughed to keep from gagging as she leaned in close. The scent of rotting flesh and mildewed earth snaked its way into my nostrils and my stomach soured.
"Why won't you help me?" Her lips moved closer and closer to mine and my eyes slammed shut before she wailed again. "Why?!"
And then, all at once, the room fell silent.
The only sound registering in the cavernous space was my own ragged breathing. Carefully, I cracked one eye open and looked past my heaving chest. She was gone.
I exhaled and slumped forward, blinking unshed tears from my eyes. Relief replaced panic and I was able to breathe in the empty air she'd just inhabited as my muscles relaxed and I was once again in complete control of my body.
Only then did the stillness of the room register.
I lifted my brown eyes hesitantly, only to be greeted by something far worse than what I'd just witnessed. Every single face in the gym was trained on me. They all stood, unmoving - fear, shock, and disgust plain on their faces as they watched me slowly stand on unsteady legs.
Shaking, scared, and weirdly exhausted all of a sudden, I didn't know what to do. There was nothing I could say to erase what they'd just seen, nothing I could do to make them forget.
So, without a single word or explanation, I ran.
MILES
My heart plummeted all the way down to my sneakers as shouts, curses, and unrestrained laughter bounced off the high walls of the gymnasium and threatened to deafen me.
"What the hell is wrong with her?"
"Freak."
"She needs to be committed."
"Basket case."
"That girl is demented."
I went after her.
Grace was clearly terrified and no one, not even the coach, was doing a damn thing to console her. I had no idea what I was going to say to her, all I knew was that she was in desperate need of another human being. She needed to know she wasn't alone.
I sprinted toward the locker room, trying my best to block out their judgmental cries, hoping the words didn't make their way to Grace's ears. Leaping down both flights of stairs, I stopped on the landing to search for her. She hadn't detoured. She'd gone straight for the girl's locker room. Well, I had no qualms whatsoever about going in after her.
"Grace?"
The fluorescent bulbs flickered as I entered the cold, seemingly empty room. The only sound that reached my ears was that of a leaky faucet, but I knew she was there. I could practically feel her anguish hanging heavily in the air around me.
"Grace? Are you in here?"
I hung my head low, searching the shadows for her small form. A chill wafting through the cracks in the neglected plaster made me shiver as it collided with my sweat-soaked skin, but I ignored it and made my way to the bathroom stalls.
"Grace. It's Miles."
Silence settled in around me, so I cleared my throat and pressed on. "I honestly don't care about whatever just happened. They're pricks for laughing. I just want to make sure you're okay."
More silence.
And then...
"Why?"
I whipped my head toward Grace's voice and made my way to the end stall. Peering under the door, I found her sneakers staring back at me. I rested my forehead against the cold steel, thankful she was talking to me, and rapped with one knuckle.
"Come on out, Grace," I urged softly.
She sniffled and fought to stifle a sob. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to get her to open up to me, since she didn't know me from Adam, but I had time. I turned, braced my back against the door frame, and slid to the floor, ready to wait her out.
I rested my cheek next to the hinges and closed my eyes. "Need anything?"
"No," she answered softly.
"M'kay."
Minutes ticked by at a snail's pace as I waited for her to emerge from her hiding spot, but she didn't budge. She didn't make a sound, aside from the occasional shaky intake of air.
I was running out of time. Soon, the bell would ring and the quiet corridor would be invaded by loud, boisterous girls, most of which didn't like Grace. I needed to reach out to her, to make her understand that not everyone was against her. Not everyone thought she was crazy.
"Don't pay any attention to them." I didn't need to elaborate. She knew who I was referring to. "They don't have anything better to do. The only reason they badger you is because of their own insecurities. They hate themselves and they'll look for any excuse to tear someone else down to feel superior."
A huff of grim laughter floated under the door. "No. They badger me because they know I'm different. They know I'm a freak."
"You're not a freak!" I grimaced at the way my raised voice echoed through the room. When the word 'freak' finally stopped resonating off the walls, I said it again, this time barely raising my voice above a whisper. "You're not a freak."
To my surprise, the latch jiggled and Grace swung the door open wide. "Jesus!" I lifted my palm to keep from getting bashed in the face.
"You don't know the first thing about me."
I looked up, shocked to find her eyebrows knitted together. There was a ferocity in her stance that I hadn't expected. She seemed... pissed. Like she really believed everything our classmates whispered about her. Like I had no right defending her.
"I know enough." I stood, but backed away so she wouldn't feel threatened. "I know you do absolutely nothing to provoke those people up there, but they still go after you. And you say nothing."
"What should I say?" The flickering lights above illuminated her tear-stained cheeks, further sawing at my heart. "Should I tell them that I'm not crazy? That I'm not out of my damn mind? That they have no right to speak to me the way they do?"
"Yes!" I roared. "That's exactly what you should say!"
In all the times I'd imagined it, I hadn't pictured our first real conversation being so strained. But I wanted to keep her talking, keep her yelling. Mostly because I enjoyed the sound of her voice, but also because I knew she couldn't keep her feelings bottled up. She was on the brink, ready to implode. She needed someone to disarm her before she detonated.
"I can't," she said, lowering her voice in defeat. "Because it's not true. I am out of my mind. And they have every right to point that out to me."
Before I could say another word in her defense, the bell sounded. Grace sprang into action, grabbing her backpack off the benches before hauling ass out the door, never bothering to change out of her gym clothes. I ran out after her, barely missing the flood of estrogen jogging down the stairs and flowing into the room where we'd just stood.
I waited for her outside of Mr. Silas' classroom. I was still on edge from what happened in the gym and our confrontation afterwards. We were strangers. I had no right talking to her, raising my voice to her the way I did, but she had every right to push back. Who was I to tell her what she should and shouldn't feel, what she should and shouldn't say? No one, that's who.
I owed her an apology.
I stood, awkwardly scanning the halls for her face, but her wide brown eyes never surfaced. To my disappointment, the warning bell echoed through the hall and still no Grace. So, instead of earning myself a tardy slip for a girl who may or may not show, I slid inside and took my seat.
Only two desks remained empty by the time the tardy bell chimed; one behind Anthony Hopper and one in the very back corner. I slid in behind Anthony so that Grace wouldn't have to. If she even showed. Plus, I liked being able to visualize bashing him across the back of the head with my English textbook. And my Geometry book. And my backpack. And my fist...
Five, then ten, then twenty minutes passed and I was convinced Grace had skipped out early. I ducked my head and scribbled in my notebook to pass the time, so when the door swung open at a quarter to three, I didn't even notice.
The desk next to mine creaked as someone slid into the chair. Only then did I peer up to find Grace hunched over the desk, hair concealing her face as usual. Even through the curtain of hair I could tell her eyes were rimmed in red.
As she retrieved her books, the jerkoff in front of me coughed around the word 'freak' and that was enough to set me off. My teeth gnashed together and my nostrils flared as I watched Anthony lean forward and fist bump one of his football buddies. What were the celebrating? The fact that she'd clearly been crying?
Screw that...
Before he had a chance to settle back into his seat, I hooked the toe of my shoe under the leg of his chair and pulled.
Anthony went crashing to the ground with a muffled curse and the entire class erupted into laughter as he tried to right himself. Luckily, his desk had fallen in between the two in front of him, leaving him pinned to the ground by wood and metal.
"Son of a bitch," he grumbled, thrashing around, unable to free himself.
Mr. Silas, bless the man, did nothing but roll his eyes and yell for Anthony to get himself together. With help, he managed to get the desk back in place and situate himself. But not before he turned angry eyes my way.
I leaned forward with a smile.
"I'd be more careful if I were you."