248 Days

January 10th

Grayson purposely leaving me alone was never a good sign. Practically inhaling his lunch, he left the cafeteria without an explanation. The spark in his blue eyes and the sly smirk told me he was up to no good. My friends laughed at my paranoia, but I knew he was planning something. They weren't forced with his presence at every waking moment. They didn't understand the unsettling feeling and fear of Grayson's secret plans. Something was in the works, and with his track record, I didn't foresee an enjoyable experience.

     Teeth suddenly chewing my meal just as quickly as he had his, I finished my sandwich shortly after his departure. Hurriedly rising from my seat, in one hand I grabbed my lunch box, and the other pulled Shawna from her seat, dragging her along with me. I didn't even try to deny my friends' accusations that I didn't trust Grayson. I did in fact, not trust him, and I was determined to catch him before he could bring me profuse embarrassment.

     Shawna and I roamed most of the school halls before my suspicions were confirmed. Steps coming to a halt, I narrowed my eyes apprehensively. Not far from the main entrance, Grayson chatted amicably with the school principal.The typically serious, silver haired woman was genuinely laughing at Grayson's latest remark. Impressed by his ease with new acquaintances, Shawna laughed. I, on the other hand, was not amused. Eyes following Grayson to the poster he was pinning to the announcement board, my gaze hardened. In bright, bolded colors, the poster publicized a sign-up sheet for a talent show. Manicured hand pressed against her lips; Shawna's laughter grew as she too read the bright words. I had been right to doubt him.

     Overcome with sudden dread of the foreseen development of his emerging plans, I remained frozen until Grayson reached for the pen. In hardly illegible writing, Grayson scrawled my name in the first slot. Marching frantically his way, I failed to shove him out of the way. Wincing as Grayson and I wrestled for the pen, Mrs. Anderson wisely took a step backwards.

     "Not doing it!" I said seriously.

     "Unfortunately, it has already been written in pen," he feigned empathy. "There's no erasing it."

     Successfully stealing the pen, I scribbled over my name. "Keep me out of—"

     "Why do you always have to put up a fight?" Grayson complained, easily retrieving the pen from my grasp.

     "Why do you continuously put me in ridiculous situations? I'm—"

     His index finger suddenly placed against my moving lips; my words came to an abrupt halt. Inhaling sharply, I surveyed him with fiery eyes.

     "I'm sorry to have to use this so soon, but..." Fumbling with his jean pocket, he held a blue coupon in front of my face. "Compliance without complaint," he explained, as if I couldn't read my own writing.

     Jaw clenched, hard gaze never leaving his, slowly I retrieved the blue piece of paper. Only then did his unbothered state flicker. Grimacing he once again reached for his pocket. I took the Instant Forgiveness card, without a word. Shooting me a nervous smile, I could only clench my teeth in response. The coupon gift had been a dumb joke, but still my integrity kept me to my promises. I couldn't find it in myself to voice my complaints, but I hoped the intensity of my glare made my silent words known.

     "It'll be fun," he promised, hesitantly.

     It most certainly was not fun. For an entire week we spent every hour we could spare practicing the cheesiest hula-hoop and jump rope routine. The choreography had evidently been crafted by two nine-year-olds, but if I could pin-point an upside to the humiliation, it was Grayson's lack of coordination resulting in an incredible form of entertainment. His attempts of flexibility and coordination were laughable.