Flipped // DNF

Chapter Seven

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains ableist references.

It didn't take me long to realize that I'd traded in my old problems with George for a whole set of new ones.

Clay was riding his bike past George's house. George was in his yard pulling out weeds.

It was actually worse having him mad at me than having him annoy me.

The way that he ignored me was a constant reminder that I'd been a jerk.

Then, one day, I was coming home from playing basketball with Sapnap, and things got weird.

Clay heard a familiar voice on his walk home. He looked over and saw his grandfather. He was in George's yard, helping with the work George started.

All I ever saw him wear was slippers. And where did he get those work boots?

I couldn't stop looking over there. And the more I looked, the more mad I got. My grandfather had already said more to George than he'd said to me the whole time he'd been living with us.

I was pretty sure I had never seen him laugh.

What was his deal with George?

Later that night, Clay was sitting on his bed, reading a book. He heard a knock at his door. He looked up to see his grandfather walking into his bedroom.

"Hey, Grandpa," Clay said softly.

He put his hands in his pockets. "George told me about the eggs."

Clay didn't say anything.

"You know, Clay, one's character is set at an early age. I'd hate to see you swim so far out, that you can't swim back."

"Sir?" Clay asked.

"It's about honesty, son. Sometimes, a little discomfort in the beginning, can save a whole lot of pain down the road."

The room was filled with silence. Clay's grandfather looked down at his shoes, then left his room.

When it came to holding a grudge, George was truly impressive. All week, I tried to approach him at school, but he'd always find some way to duck me.

Whenever he was in his yard, Grandpa was always there with him.

Finally, one Saturday, I saw my opening. My grandfather had gone into town to buy some Bengay. I guess the yard work started to get to him.

George was watering the grass in his yard. Clay walked up to him.

"It's looking really good," Clay said.

George turned around, still watering the grass. "Thanks. Your grandpa did most of it."

"I'm sorry for what I did."

George turns the hose off. "I just don't get it, Clay. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I don't know. It was dumb and I shouldn't have said anything about your yard, either. It wasn't right."

"Maybe, it's all for the best. I mean, look. I learned so much from your grandpa, it's amazing. You're lucky. I don't even have grandparents anymore."

"Oh," Clay said softly, looking down at his hands.

"I feel sorry for him. He misses your grandma."

Clay nods.

"Can you believe it? He says I remind him of her." George smiles.