The Lost Soul

Chapter 14

--Greyson's POV--

If I ever see another health presentation again, it'll be too soon.

Our health teacher decided to arrange a presentation on STDs to end our last class before a two-week break. Pictures and everything. I could shudder at the thought.

To get my mind off the vomit-worthy pictures I saw only minutes earlier, I push a new CD into my dash's player and put the volume on blast. As I drive home, I see people's heads turn to glare at me, following my car with hate filled eyes. I laugh as I pass by, waving and offering a wink.

Oh, the joys of fulfilling teenage stereotypes.

I pull into my driveway ten minutes later, grabbing wildly at the volume dial. My parent's vehicles are parked in front of the house. They weren't supposed to be home till tomorrow.

Crap.

I'm not usually an untidy person, but hey, everyone has their bad days. Unlucky for me, mine happened to be last night. By that, I mean I have a self-made interpretation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in my sink, with a medium of dirty dishes. Dirty dishes I had promised to clean before my parents got home, in addition to the living room full of empty water bottles, chip bags, and dirty socks.

I'm in so much trouble. 

I grab my bag from the passenger seat before running to the house, mentally preparing myself for the verbal beating I'm about to receive.

I open the door slowly, trying not to make a lot of noise. So far, so good; no one is yelling. I take off my shoes and coat, placing them in the closet before advancing to the stairs. Maybe I can make it to my room-

"Greyson!"

Maybe not.

"Yeah?" I respond, letting out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

"Come here, we have to talk to you." My mother's voice doesn't sound angry, but then again, she never does till she's got you on the floor, scrubbing the bathroom tiles with your toothbrush.

I drop my bag at the foot of the stairs and turn back to go to the kitchen. When I walk through the doorway, I find my parents sitting at the table, side-by-side, still wearing their work clothes. I sit in the seat across from them, hoping they can't smell my fear.

"We have something to discuss, as a family." My father says, crossing his suit-covered arms. Oh boy.

"I'm sorry about the dishes; I didn't expect you back until tomorrow." I start, trying to get it out of the way. It's better to grab a bull by the horns, right?

My mom offers me a small smile. "We're not here to talk about the dishes."

"Then what did I do?" I ask, my confusion outweighing my relief. I can't remember doing anything so serious that my parents have all but called a family meeting.

"Son, you haven't done anything." Dad says with a chuckle. "Nothing that I know of, anyway." He adds, giving me a hard stare. I ignore the urge to cower away in fear. No matter what you have or have not done, you always feel guilty under the stare of your father.

"Nope," I squeak. "What's going on then?"

My parents look at each other, silently debating who will be the one to break the news to me. I fidget nervously.

"Grey," My mother starts, taking my father's hand in her own and looking at me from across the table. "While we were attending the meeting Friday night, we were both given the opportunity to take new job positions." She pauses as if she's waiting for a reaction. I nod, encouraging her to go on. "We'd be getting better pay, better hours, and a higher position on the board."