Unexpected

| iii | told you

iii~ what would you do?

iii-iii-iii-iii-iii

Grayson is nervous as he climbs up the tree. He usually would be quicker about it, and considerably more confident, but the icy weather and the uncertainty of the reception he will get slows him and makes him paranoid. He eases himself atop a thicker branch that takes him above the bottom floor window of the house. A light turns off in another window, causing his heart to stop for a moment.

Grayson reaches the window-as in the window. He feels thrilled inside, as if he is a prince from one of the classic fairytales, climbing up to reach the princess in her tower. This tree, with its patches of ice and snowy branches, must be the dragon that he needs to fight. And, waiting beyond the glass of that second-storey window is his princess, whom he will love-

Ew. No. He will not love her in the "live happily ever after" way. He will be her friend and they can fight icy tree dragons together for the rest of their lives. Grayson wants nothing more than to make friends with the little girl who stared down at him as he retrieved his ball from the snowy drifts in her backyard.

He is level with the window. There is a lamp on in her bedroom; it sends the top branches of the tree awash in golden, icy light.

There are no curtains on this window, and Grayson watches in fascination for a little bit. Just beyond the window pane, a small girl spins in a sparsely furnished bedroom, her dark hair tossed about her head and her little brown arms emerging from the draping sleeves of her pale nightgown. Through the glass, Grayson can hear her singing sweetly.

"I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and g-" she turns and meets his eyes, stopping. For a while, they stare at each other. The little, bundled-up boy in the tree and the even smaller girl in her nightgown. Grayson feels a bit like Peter Pan meeting Wendy for the first time.

To be polite, Grayson retrieves the pebble he took from his room and gently throws it against the glass. The girl smiles slowly and dances to the window, which she opens with surprising ease.

"I'm Grayson," he says quickly. "I live across the street."

"I'm Erin," she responds. "and I know."

iii-iii-iii-iii-iii

Erin hates herself for many reasons.

She hates the scars on her wrists and the flyaways in her hair. She hates the color of her skin and her father for giving it to her. She hates how there's a flap of skin beneath her chin that never seems to go away. She hates how her second toe is taller than the first. She hates how she has to cover as much skin as she can.

Most of all, she hates how easily manipulated she is. Her mind and heart are so weak, and as she can hold weak grudges so also she can forgive far too easily. She despises how her first instinct upon seeing Grayson walk into the classroom was, I missed you. It could have-should have-been, I hate you, or how could you, or why?. Instead, she had to fight to make herself angry with him.

But with his blue eyes and his slick smile, there is no way she can shove him away again. His hair is no longer the pale blond it once was, but its sandy color somehow lends more grace to the teenager than the blond did to the child. He towers over her when once they were close in height. And, in the course of six years, her best friend has grown unbelievably beautiful.

(she hates herself for falling back in love with him after so much as a smile on his part)

Her heart aches from the obvious struggle he is putting into renewing their friendship. For a serious moment or two, Erin considers being cold for a little longer in order to abuse the fact that he seems wrapped around her finger, but she could never do that. She has never been the one to use people-that was always Grayson.