248 Days

October 19th

I took the excessive noise as a sign that Grayson wanted me to wake. If the loud banging of suitcases against the stairs wasn't enough to wake me, the banging of dishes definitely was. Rubbing my eyes, I grudgingly rose from my mattress, walking towards the ruckus.

     He was making toast.

     "How does one make so much noise using a toaster?"

     "Are you hungry?" He ignored my question.

     "Always."

     "Then accept the food I've made gracefully and ask no questions."

     Turning to hand me my plate, his eyes grew big, lips threatening to break into a smile. Blue eyes were fixed on my hair.

     "If you wish to have me present during breakfast you will gracefully accept and make no comment of the mess on my head."

     "What mess?"

     Rolling my eyes, I took a bite of the peanut butter toast.

     "Are we in a rush?" I asked. He had long finished his plate, and was packing the little food, he brought into a red cooler bag.

     "No," he said, still packing.

     "Then why is all our stuff already packed and in the car before 7:30?"

     "You don't like packing," he said, as though the answer was obvious. "You also enjoy sleeping... I just figured I'd save myself a headache."

     I eyed him skeptically.

     "Well..." he started. There it was. I braced myself. "I was hoping to make one more stop, on our way out."

     "How many people?"

     "Just the one," he said. "But she won't welcome you like the others did."

     "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "You'll see."

     "Grayson—"

     Making a show of sealing his lips, he offered me no explanation.

     As much as I was initially displeased by the idea of the trip, I felt a certain sadness leaving the small town of Stanley. Leaning against the window, staring at the passing trees, our departure was bittersweet. Fortunately, I didn't have much time to dwell on my mixed feelings. I shouldn't have said fortunately. By the obvious uncertainty on Grayson's face, I knew what was to come would be anything but fortunate.

     Watching him hesitate as he pulled into someone's driveway, I put my face into my hands.

     "Grayson," I sighed. "Why do I feel like this is going to be one of your worst ideas?"

     His smile could only mean trouble. "It is imperative to our friendship that you remember Mrs. Darcy."

     "You're avoiding my concerns."

     "I admittedly don't know how well this is going to go," he said. "I'm hoping this will go quite bad."

     Bad? I followed him out of the car, feelings as though I would regret doing so. My gaze flickered between him and the approaching house with uncertainty.

     "This person doesn't like us, does she?"

     Grayson snorted. "That's an understatement."

     "Old teacher?"

     He nodded. "I think we're the reason she retired. She was the biggest Grexa hater," he started. Cringing at his mixing of our names, I forced myself to listen. I wanted to know what I was getting myself into. "We were always getting in trouble with her. I can't even count the number of detentions she gave us. She had the uncanny ability to blame us for just about anything."