Two Streets Down [R.D.J]

Prologue

        Lily skipped, singing a song she had either learned at school or from one of the various cartoons she watches, as she carried the last box inside the recently cleaned apartment. She set the box in the table and ran off to help her dad, David, passing him the tools. Grace opened the box, taking out the turquoise toaster out and placing it next to the microwave. She quirked her head to the side, glancing at the door, her mother was not back yet.

"Lily?" she called.

"Yes, sis?" Lily looked up at her, arching her eyebrows.

"Where's mom?"

"Oh," her face scrunched up, "I forgot to tell, she said she was going somewhere and will be back soon."

"Okay," she nodded.

Grace inhaled in, the intruding smell of paint did not disturbing her one bit. She loved the smell of paint. Turning away from her younger sister and her father, she continued to organize her cupboard. She had bought a dinnerware set of four and a set of six glass drinking cups. Her mother had bought her a stainless flatware and a turquoise toaster.

She closed the cupboards once everything was in place and moved on to the shelves. There were three shelves, one for spices and herbs, one for cooking books (including the thin journal her mother had half filled with her recipes), and the bottom one for three large containers. For spices and herbs, she had bought glass containers and label them with turquoise labeling stickers, then she had borrowed (stole) some of her mother's to fill them in . As for the large containers in the third shelf, she had been lucky enough to have bought them already labeled with white delicate letters, sugar, coffee, and salt; the containers remained empty at the moment, she had not gone to the grocery store yet.

She stepped back, her mouth twisted into a smile. Her kitchen was done and it was cute. It was the last room in the house that needed to be done. She had organized her room the day before. She whirled around to check her dad and Lily, they had finished putting the bookshelf together and they were stocking it with Grace's large collection of books.

"I'm back!" Anne's, her mother, voice announced. She was carrying two grocery bags; three kids were shyly trailing behind her, also carrying bags.

"Mom," I sighed, "I told you I'd buy the groceries myself."

Her mother tsked, she set the bags in the small four chair table, the kids followed suit. "Thank you boys."

She took her wallet out and handed five dollars to each boy. "Thank you!"

Grace huffed in disbelief. She loves her parents but they can be unbelievable sometimes. She had moved out into this two bedroom apartment as a incentive to be independent. She had gotten her first job her junior year of high school, not because she needed, but because she wanted. She had opened a savings account and acquired a debit card, which she did not get to use as much.

The balance in her bank account continued to increase as she did not spend much. Grace was never a spender, and her parents continued to give her anything she could need. When she asked her parents if she could be in charge of paying a bill, they refused. They told her that while she lived under their roof, she was not going to spend her money. Her friends did not understand, in their eyes and mind, she was lucky. Grace wanted to feel useful. She needed to feel she could do something for herself.

Her junior year, during a gallery of her art work, her teacher had received offers to buy her paintings. After that, her teacher talked to her and they sold copies for twenty dollars, and originals depending on the size, going from thirty to sixty dollars. As the quality of her work increased so did the price and the offers she often received. All the money went to Grace's bank account.