Reversing Roles

Chapter 1

"Hey, baby. How was school?"

As Grayson Mendes hastily closed the large, wooden front door to his parents' house, he cringed at the girlish nickname that his mum had just given him. He shot her a flat look, as he clutched his algebra and history textbooks to his chest. He swiftly pulled off his Vans and joined her in their large, polished kitchen, the sweet scent of lamb stew boiling on the spotless stove.

"Mum," he whined. "Don't call me 'baby'. I'm not five." His mother, Jill, plastered a self-satisfied smile to her thin lips, although it didn't quite reach her eyes. It never did anymore. Not since the accident. Grayson's smile lowered, the not-so-fond memory flooding back into his mind. The memory he desperately wished he could erase, but couldn't. Everyday, something reminded him of it. It had affected the whole family dramatically, and definitely not in a good way. He suddenly shook his head, vigorously, and raked his hand through his messy, chestnut hair, as if his hand could control his thoughts, and push them back. He tried to think about the whole incident as little as possible, although, that was turning out to be a tough challenge.

"Uh, anyway," he said, rapidly thinking of something else to say, eager to change the subject. "School was fine, I guess. The usual." Jill nodded, then averted her attention back to the half-chopped, bright orange carrots that sat on the faded chopping-board in front of her.

"That's good, honey."

"Actually, Mr. Jones mentioned something about a History test for tomorrow," Grayson stated. "I'd better get some studying done." He readjusted his glasses, then shuffled up the carpeted stair-case, his back hunched.

"Alright then. I'll call you down when dinner is ready!" his mother called after him.

~~~

"You studying, bro?" Joey Vega's voice could be heard ringing through the phone. Grayson lifted his black rimmed glasses off his face, placed them onto his wooden desk, then rubbed his temples. This was the easiest stuff, yet he couldn't comprehend anything. He was pooped. It was almost definitely because he (stupidly) stayed up until 3am this morning, having a Harry Potter movie marathon. He'd just finished reading the book series, for the third time, so he thought he'd congratulate himself. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Yeah, man. Well, I'm trying to," he replied, sleepily. "I'm so fucking tired." He held back a loud yawn.

"Why so tired, Gray?"

"Movie marathon last night," he answered simply.

"Ah, righto. Let me guess. Narnia? Lord of the Rings?"

"Harry Potter," Grayson responded, flatly, rubbing his left eye.

"Nerd," Joey laughed. Grayson grinned, accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll.

"Says you! Who's the one who stayed inside all day last Saturday binge-watching Sherlock?!" Grayson fired back. A large, triumphant grin spread across his lips when the response from the other end of the phone was silence.

"Touché," Joey said, quietly. Grayson laughed, and Joey huffed. "Whatever, man. Just make sure you study. I'm aiming for another A+."

"Yeah? Well, so am I," he said, challengingly. "And I'll kick your ass, just like every other time." He grinned again.

"Is that a challenge, Mendes?"

"Yep, so let the best man win."

"Well, if the best man is going to win, then hand me my prize," Joey announced, cockily.

"Getting cocky now, are we, Vega?" Grayson wriggled his eyebrows, knowing full-well that Joey couldn't actually see them.

"I sure am. Good luck, sleepyhead." With that, Grayson heard the beep buzz loudly in his ear, indicating that Joey on the other end of the line, had ended the call. Smartass. He's on, Grayson thought, smirking. He grasped his glasses again, and slid them back into his face, a smug smile dancing across his lips. He took a long sip of water from his Harry Potter water bottle that he'd bought online, which was standing next to him, and returned to his history textbook. He was not going to let his overconfident, big-headed best friend have the satisfaction of getting a better score than him. No way.