Fools

Enigma

Chapter 2

Florence comes back down in a dress barely sparing me a glance. Maybe I was a little too stalkerish when she got off the bus. Obviously she doesn’t usually since she has her own car, but that doesn’t explain how I never noticed her freshman year or sophomore year before we were old enough to drive. Maybe because that’s before Grace went through her radical change into the bitch I’m currently ‘dating’, ha, more like fucking when her other fuck buddies are too busy.

Grace wasn’t always like that. When we first met she was the cutest and sweetest girl in the world. It was in ninth grade, homeroom, well to be more correct the wrong homeroom. I had walked into the wrong homeroom like a moron; thank god Mr. Ganagon turned out not to care or call roll so no one knew I was the dumbass ninth grader who walked into the wrong homeroom. Then again back then we were all dumbass ninth graders, but that’s beside the point.

I was sitting in my desk trying to not mentally beat myself down too much, therapist hates when I do that, and I felt a tap on my arm. I look to my left arm to see an unpolished nail, definitely a girl’s though, tapping me. I follow the finger to the owner of it and see blue eyes meeting my own brown ones. “Yes?” I ask.

“Um you wouldn’t happen to have a pencil I could borrow?” She asked, her voice so soft and timid I had to lean in to hear her properly. I open my bag showing her the array of pencils my mom had handpicked out over the summer; this was the last year she’d ever do this. “I’d say you do.” She smiles at her own joke as I chuckled at it.

“Yeah take your pick.” I said as she pretended this was the biggest decision of her high school career.

“Well what about this one? Does this pencil describe me?” She says pulling out a pink flowery one.

“I think so?”

“Really why?” She asked perplexed.

“Well from what I can tell about you you’re sweet and you seem nice. This pencil definitely describes you.” I know, I know, my flirting left something to be desired but Grace blushed this shade of pink I’ve never seen on another girl and said quickly,

“Thank you.” Before turning to her paper, still smiling and blushing. So for the rest of the week I showed up to her homeroom everyday just to see her. All it took was a week for her to capture my heart, but if I’m honest with myself, she has it the second she tapped on my arm.

But that’s not how Grace is now. Like I said she’s not my saving Grace anymore. “Trey what would you like to drink?” Mrs. Lémieux asks me, pulling me from my memories.

“Water would be fine, thank you ma’am.” I reply quickly and politely.

“Son père l'a élevé bien. Il pourrait vous marier quand vous êtes un peu plus ma petite-fille.” Florence’s grandfather says to her making her spin around from the cabinet and put her hands on her hips and say in English,

“Shut up papy or I’m putting you in a home!” She huffs and turns back to the cabinet to get the dishes. She reaches for something a shelf to high and I walk over and grab it.

“Here.” I say handing it to her. She nods as a thank you to me and takes it, almost refusing to look at me.

“Cet enfant, elle ne sera jamais se marier avec cette attitude.” Her grandfather remarks. Florence glares at him.

“Grandad!” She exclaims whiningly, but somehow not annoyingly so, as she puts the plates down and spreads them around the seats. When she finished she moves the food over. I look at it. It’s probably the first home cooked meal I’ve had since I was in ninth grade.