Grace.

Chapter 16.

I spent Sunday in my room with my phone on silent, doing my homework. It was my greatest escape. The perfect way to forget about life for a second. Our poems for English were due the next day. I didn't know what to write about. I couldn't believe I left it till the last minute. What had I been doing?! Focusing on stupid crushes and going out to Joe's. Darn it. Ria was right, there was absolutely no time for games. I needed to get my act straight.
We'd been reading Shakespeare as part of our English syllabus. I was so tired of it. Year in. Year out. Ms. Holloway thought it would be a great idea to get us to write some poems just like he did. But I still couldn't figure out what to write about. Most definitely not love.
My head felt as though someone had been squeezing it in between their hands. I needed inspiration but at the same time, I didn't want to leave my room.
Mom and dad were home. I could smell her cooking all the way up to my room. Dad was probably in his study watching golf and having a glass of whiskey. The door bell rang and I wondered who it could be.

Me: Ria, who's at the door?

I quickly texted my sister to find out. I wasn't even sure if she was downstairs. I was scared that it might've been Edgar. After a few minutes, I heard her bedroom door close and my phone lit up with a reply from her:

Gloria Hills: It's Detective Perez.

Detective Benjamin Perez. He's close with our parents. You can say they're friends. It's a Detective-Doctor thing. They know each other from the hospital, of course. Breathing a sigh of relief, I got back to my books. I needed help! I was so lost! I picked up my book and headed to Gloria's room. Soft music was playing inside.
"Hey, Ria? Are you busy?" I knocked.
"What's up?" She opened.
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
"Whoa! When'd you change your bedding?!" I asked. It was absolutely beautiful.
"Yesterday. Do you like it?" She grinned.
"I love it! And you got new frames!" I noticed.
"And shelves. See? My books look so pretty on them!" She squealed in excitement.
"Your room is beautiful! Wow, Gloria!" I gushed.
"When I'm done with mine, we'll come revamp yours as well. You can have a seat on my bed. My chair's full, as you can see."
"Thank you. I need your help but you're tied up."
"Nonsense. I can still do this later. What's up?"
"Freaking poetry," I huffed.
"Oh, no. I hate that. Let me guess..."
"Holloway," We both said.
She chuckled and took a seat next to me, "Did she at least give you topics to choose from?"
"The usual, boring stuff: What do you love? What do you cherish? All of that stupid stuff," I complained.
"Those aren't even topics," She rolled her eyes.
"Help? Please?" I pulled my bottom lip.
"Talk about the farm," she suggested.
"What about the farm?"
"There's so much you can say about the farm, Grace. Abuelo, abuela. All the family celebrations that take place there. The kids from there. Your holidays," she listed.
"And how do I do that in poem form?"
"That's for you to figure out. I gave you a foundation, it's on you to build your house."
She got up from the bed and continued sorting her room out. She started off by picking up the empty packets and boxes from the floor.
"What's Mom cooking?" I asked her.
"Probably a whole lot of stuff, why?"
"Do you think Detective Perez is staying for dinner?"
"Why?" She eyed me.
"So that I can...look my best for him."
I quickly jumped off from the bed before she could hit me with a pillow or one of the empty boxes.
"I'm kidding!" I laughed.
"That man is way too old for you," she bit.
"Late thirties? Not too bad if you ask me," I argued.
"Grace, stop it. I'm warning you."
"I wonder why he's single. He is so damn fine. And the power and title that he has!" I swooned.
A pillow hit me hard on my face and I stumbled back.
"Keep talking, and you'll see! ¿Estás loco?"
"Ay, Ria. Relax! I'm only kidding," I chuckled.
"Go do your homework, now," she scolded.
"Sí, Madre. See you at dinner. ¡Te quiero!"
I hurried out of her room before she could throw another thing at me. It was just a joke. I needed something to lift my spirits up. My soul was still feeling down. As the clock ticked faster than usual, I realized that time wasn't on my side. I pulled a pen out and started writing whatever came to mind. If you must know, that poem was the worst thing I've ever written!