I frowned. I'd just lost my best chance at getting free food and other stuff from a billioniare guy who had enough money to lose a few of his bucks. Pocketing the pounds into my pocket, I looked around the locality. There were a few supermarkets, a lot of houses, and most importantly, restaurants. FOOD, my stomach groaned.
Ignoring my not-so-silent stomach, I stormed into the supermarket. I had a plan. I looked around for fancy gift items under twenty pounds and found a fancy looking box of chocolates within my budget. Next, I went to look for dresses at the clothes section.
And that's when I saw myself for the first time in my life. I couldn't believe how shabby I looked, except for my sneakers which had resisted all damage. Feeling incredibly nervous, I pulled out a plain white oversized shirt and a pair of black mom jeans from the store and paid for my trouble.
I entered the washroom in the supermarket and got dressed. I pulled my long brown hair into a nice-looking bun, straightened my necklace and ring, and pulled the white shirt down. I shrugged involuntarily and stepped out a new person.
I walked to the nearest house, and read the surname written on the nameplate. Apparently, the Dorling family lived here. I rang the doorbell. A minute later, the door lock clicked open, and an old woman stared at me from a small crack in the door. Her wrinkled eye narrowed.
"Hi, Mrs. Dorling?" I said, feeling hopefully that the grandma was indeed Mrs. Dorling.
The old woman straightened up, "That would be me," she said, her voice shaky.
"I'm so sorry, Mum couldn't make it!" I said, pretending as though I knew the lady. "She's gone all red and ill, so she told me to come over to home instead!"
Mrs. Dorling stared even more suspiciously.
"Surely, you remember Mum?" I asked with narrow eyes. "Mum! You taught her how to sew! Mrs. Dorling!"
The lady blinked for two seconds. And then, her face broke into a smile. "Oh, how is Belinda?" she exclaimed, and opened the door wide, and let me in with wide arms. "She never told me that she'll be visiting! Marrieta, you've grown, dear!"
Lucky guess. Phew. I smiled wide and entered the house. "Mum will probably be alright, Mrs. Dorling. Don't worry. She told me that she'd sent a letter to you last month itself that we'd be visiting. Perhaps you didn't receive the letter-?"
"Oh, nonsense, I probably just forgot it," the lady said, shaking her hands. "I'm always forgetting things now. Last week, I thought I left my glasses in the kitchen to only find it stuck in my hair three hours later!" She chuckled silently. "So, I've decided to tie them to a rope and dangle it around my neck like a chain, you know?"
I chuckled along with her. And then, my stomach rumbled loudly. Mrs. Dorling stared at me wide eyed. And then she burst into laughter. "I'll get you something to eat then, dear?"
"Please," I replied, turning red.
Turned out that Marrieta was in fact, Mrs. Dorling's granddaughter. I found photographs of the real Marrieta and cringed. She did actually look quite like I did, with her long black hair and blue-gray eyes, a long nose and incredibly pink lips. Except my lips were more red- because of the bleeding, you know.
"Grandma?" I called as Mrs. Dorling placed a large bowl of cereal in front of me as I sat down on the table. She turned around and looked at me, her wrinkly mouth upturned in a large smile. I smiled nervously. "Thanks."
"Oh, anytime, dear," Mrs. Dorling said, sitting opposite me. "How is your father?"
"Good, good," I said, stuffing my face. "How are you, then? Wait, have you always worn those glasses?"
Might as well play the part.
"Oh," Mrs. Dorling chuckled. "You noticed. Of course, it's been seven years since your mother actually brought you here-" I swallowed; my eyes wide. "But," she continued, "I bought this only two years ago. How long will you stay again?"
"Just till tomorrow," I said, wiping my mouth with my sleeve after I drank the excess milk in the bowl faster than I could say 'Cereal.'
Mrs. Dorling tutted loudly. "Go wash your hands dear, the sleeves are rather difficult to wash, you know?"
"Oh, sorry," I said, blushing slightly. Taking the bowl in my hand, I walked towards the washroom, before it was snatched out of my hand.
"I'll wash it, dear," Mrs. Dorling said, smiling. "You go wash up, I've turned on the water heater and there are a few clothes I bought for you a year ago when Belinda told me that you were coming- of course, your other grandmother died after so you couldn't come-"
"Yeah, I'm sorry Grandma," I said sadly.
She pointed me to the bathroom. I pulled off my new clothes and my shabby greasy hair and got into the hot and steaming shower.
After a quick change of dress, I emerged out of my (sorry, Marrieta!) room, finally with clean hair and not dirty arms, elbows and knees. I helped Mrs. Dorling cook, even though she was unwilling to let me. It was the least I could do. I cooked the pasta as she blabbed on the story of her, husband, Belinda and the real Marrieta and cut the vegetables.
I had an actual, good night's rest that night. It was nice. Calming. Peaceful. Mrs. Dorling was the best grandma in the world ever and I felt sorry for Marrieta. She did not have enough luck to meet the best grandma I'd ever known my life. Not that I knew any other grandmas, or that I remembered the rest of my life until the last 4 days or so.
The next morning, Mrs. Dorling opened the curtains, and the sun shone over the room, and I woke up late. Like, actual late, around 11 in the morning. Mrs. Dorling stuffed me up worthy of a Thanksgiving Turkey and packed four pairs of clothes in a large backpack with soap, toothbrushes and the other basics and set me up enough for a long voyage even though she wasn't aware of my plans.
"You could always stay," Mrs. Dorling said as I stepped from the front door.
"I know," I said sadly. I actually did want to stay, but I could feel the monsters already recognizing my scent. "But I can't. Goodbye Grandma. I'll miss you," I said. I kissed her on the cheek and hugged her, and turned around, ready to leave once more.
"Goodbye, dear," Mrs. Dorling whispered quietly as I turned around the corner and disappeared.
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VOTE.
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The Forgotten Olympian |BOOK 1| PJO X HP | Alexandra Marine
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