Day 23

6:22 AM

The rare occurence of rain and the horn and the El three feet below Grace are all reasons contributing to why she stays cocooned in her blankets for a few (or a few more than a few) extra minutes after the injured goose honk noise that she practically has memorized sounds. The nostalgia resulting from Grace thinking too hard about the rare occurence of rain and the horn and the El three feet below her is another reason.

Low-hanging tree branches whip against the feeble glass windows of the cabin, and as Grace listens to the creaking noises emitted from the wood foundation, a wave of something that feels shockingly like emotion (ew no) shoots through her body, twisting her stomach into elaborate knots not completely unlike those she gets whenever she sees her cabinmate. Her senses are more tuned in to the world around Grace than they usually are, out of sheer familiarity; the earthy petrichor smell and the warped designs in the wooden walls of the cabin and the chirping of annoyingly cheerful and persistent birds are all practically engraved in her mind, just as much as the feel of the slightly too-rough sheets or the faint taste of pure humidity are. This camp is literally a part of her now (which is honestly quite aggravating, considering the luxury Grace makes an effort to surround herself in at all times).

She can hear El breathing below, and Grace is struck with the realization that she only has seven more days to hear the melodic rasp of El's respiratory system working before they begin the process of forgetting about each other once more. She thinks back to her first time seeing El at this camp when they were twelve; she was gangly and awkward and prone to speaking her mind and the first words she spoke in Grace's vicinity were, "I think there's a colony of cockroaches living in my mattress." (So obviously she's really matured). And then they proceeded to ignore each other every other day of camp and in high school until one day two weeks ago when Grace felt the aforementioned knots start to form.

Honestly, Grace thinks that fond memories and "the good old days" should go screw themselves instead of weighing her down with their melancholy, so she scrunches up her face and sends that memory far, far away. She could be far, far away from this place if she wanted to be, and far, far away from the problems that plague her here (and one particular problem beginning with E and ending with lizabeth). Well, sure, her subconcious probably knows that she would never willingly leave Finn or Louise or any of the counselors behind just because a stupid horn and some pesky rain and an idiot with stunningly good feminist morals are making her feel human emotions, but currently Grace just wants to get out of the mess she's created for herself.

Grace also wants to get into a warm shower, and she can sense that girl below her shifting, so she gets out of bed with surprising grace (ah, how nice it is to have a name ideal for wordplay) and walks to the bathroom with confidence, despite the shocking coldness of the floor - honestly, she needs to get onto Lionel about getting a heater or at least a carpet in here.

Maybe she could say that he owes it to his daughter, and that if he went to so much trouble donating his chromosomes to birth her, then he should at least make sure her feet (and Grace's, by extension) don't get hypothermia? (Is feet hypothermia even a thing?)

Grace banishes that thought from her mind as she turns on the shower. Thinking about her bunkmate is bad.

She is so using up all the hot water in revenge for El forcing herself into Grace's mind.

9:04 AM

Louise is fucking annoyed - well, by Louise standards, meaning her attitude is slightly better than Grace's on a good day. But Grace can tell that she's actually pissed; at herself, no less, which is very bad, because Grace has learned only too well since the incident with El(izabeth, she reminds herself forcefully) that she is absolutely useless when it comes to dealing with self-loathing.