Flames At Midnight

08 | grace yearwood

"If you don't start on this now, you will live to regret it later."

I cleared some of the random junk off my desk to make room for my laptop and papers.

"And once you get started," I said, "you'll see it's not so bad. The sooner you start, the closer you'll be to being done. Come on, Grace. Just suck it up and get it over with."

I exhaled loudly. If I was at the point of vocally motivating myself to do something, then I knew I was screwed. I only ever start doing this when I feel crushed under the pressure of a looming deadline.

I sat down at my desk in the corner of my room with my legs folded on the seat. A blank document was open on my laptop, waiting for me to fill it with words. I had an essay due in two days and so far all I had written was my name in the corner.

The more involved I became with Quentin's—well, I wasn't entirely sure what to call it—extracurricular life, the more my schoolwork suffered.

"Grace!" Paige burst into my bedroom like a whirlwind of enthusiasm. "I need some of your blood."

I stared at her for a second or two, almost sure I'd misheard her. "You need—what?"

"Your blooood." She winked and waved the sealed plastic package in her hand. A cup of water was in her other hand. "Not in a weird or creepy way, though. It's for a school project."

"Your teacher authorized a project for you to take my blood?" I asked skeptically.

"We have to pick a topic related to genetics and tie it to our family. Everyone's doing hair or eye color," she explained, "but I thought it'd be fun to try something a little different. My teacher recommended this home science company that specializes in blood typing kits. It's fascinating, really."

I was still unconvinced.

"I'll be careful, I promise," she said, smiling sweetly.

"Have you tried this on anyone else, or am I the first?"

She beamed. "Lucky you! You're the first one!"

"Lucky me," I repeated flatly.

She tore open the kit and arranged the contents on my desk. There were a couple sheets of paper, a lancet, a wrapped alcohol pad, mixing sticks, and a pipette.

"I already read the instructions and watched a tutorial video on the website," she said reassuringly. "So don't worry."

She picked up a card with some text and four large circles on the front. I watched as she carefully added a drop of water inside each of the circles with the pipette. Then she turned towards me and swabbed my index finger with the alcohol pad.

"Are you ready?" she asked,

"Go for it."

"Okay. Here goes," she said, mostly to herself, as she held the sterile lancet against my skin and pressed the button.

I winced a little as the needle pricked my skin.

Paige massaged my finger to draw out the blood, and then deposited a small drop onto the ends of four white mixing sticks. She took each of the sticks and swirled them around in the water inside each of the four circles.

Then she wrapped a Band-Aid around my finger.

I watched her become more self-assured as she worked. Her attention was completely focused on the task at hand. As she relaxed, I could see the future doctor in her and I felt a sense of pride. She was only fourteen and she already knew exactly what she wanted to do in life.