Trying to live #Wattys2024

Chapter 17 (Edited)

"Don't be. I think I deserved and needed a pillow thrown at me," I grumbled.

Grams sighed deeply. "The reason I came up here was because I heard you were injured and that you haven't left your room since it happened."

I tried to respond, but Grams raised a hand to stop me. "That's a sign that the story about your injury isn't entirely true. I know you won't tell me, and neither will your brother, but at least tell me if you're okay, Em."

Hearing the quiet desperation in Grams' voice made me pause. She was a strong woman, but her vulnerability made me reluctant to lie. So, I chose to tell the truth, because she deserved it—at least today. "No."

The instant sadness in Grams' eyes broke my heart a little. I quickly added, "But I will be, Grams." I needed to be okay, if not for myself, then for her. In that moment, my own pain and brokenness seemed to dissolve when I looked at her. I wanted her to be happy. She deserved the world and more, far more than I ever did.

Grams patted my head gently and attempted a smile. "Let's not get all emotional right now."

She chuckled softly. "For once, huh?"

I wanted to remind her that she was the emotional one. I'd mastered hiding my feelings years ago, but something was breaking through today, and I wasn't sure what it was.

"Why don't we go out?" Grams suggested.

I shot her a puzzled look. "I'd rather stay in here."

"That's not how it works, Em. You need to get some fresh air. You've been holed up in here for three days."

"I have a window," I pointed to it, "and I can open it to let air in. Besides, I have everything I need in here—even food."

I took a small pride in my self-sufficiency. Proud of the fact that I didn't have to face anyone. Maybe I'd leave the house tomorrow, but not today. Tomorrow was Saturday, and that meant no school.

"That's where you're wrong, Emerson," Mrs. Avilla said, appearing in the doorway with a first-aid box in hand. "This isn't a prison cell, and I won't always be delivering your meals."

As Mrs. Avilla changed my bandage, I pouted, contemplating how to convince them to let me stay in my room. I figured I could go out tomorrow... maybe. "I like my prison."

My comment was met with disapproval from both Grams and Mrs. Avilla. They stared at me as though I'd completely lost my senses.

"Tessa, she definitely needs fresh air. She looks like a thug," Mrs. Avilla said in a conspiratorial whisper.

"I agree. She doesn't just look like a thug but like a maniac," Grams added, both women sporting satisfied grins as if they'd just delivered the punchline to a great joke.

Grams clapped her hands together. "Oh, I know what we can do! How about you come with me and spend some time with my friends?"

Mrs. Avilla, who had opened the window, turned around with enthusiasm. "That's a great idea!"

"I'm supposed to hang out with a bunch of grandmas?" I asked skeptically.

"You used to love spending time with them," Grams countered.

"I was a kid!"

I had nothing against my grandma's friends. I knew them. They knew me. But they were old. The last time I saw them, I missed the annual fireworks because Betty walked too slowly. Susan, another friend of Grams, said it wasn't a big deal and promised to show me a video of the fireworks. All I saw was a wrinkled neck and zoomed-in eyes.