The Bucket List From Above (ON HOLD)

Chapter three

A quick Happy 4th of July to all the Americans out there! I wish you all a great day & stay safe, darlings. 

Otherwise, enjoy this chapter. Thank you for reading. :)

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I lay there, in my bed, clutching onto my pillow with my left arm and grandma's bucket list with the other. My eyes feel dry after all the shed tears and there's a lump in my throat unwilling to go away.

She didn't remember my name.

Thinking about it is the reason I let out another loud sob and I'm back on square one – crying my gut out. For every feeling I let out, it feels like as if I become emptier and emptier. Emotions I never knew existed kept pouring out like nothing I've ever felt before. Not even when my own mother left.

I typed a simply and quick to Chelsea, explaining briefly what was going on and that I was telling her everything tomorrow. After that I turned my phone off even though I knew dad would try to call me in case he'd get a call from school that I hadn't been present. 

-

I slowly opened my eyes when I realized I must have fallen asleep. A mixture between being asleep and awake at the same time took over my body. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table: 3:48PM. All the crying must have drained me on energy.

My eyes fell on the bucket list as I slowly sat up. A curious feeling swept over me as my fingers traced the light blue cover. I still didn't know the real meaning behind it.

The first time I found out about the bucket list was 3 years ago. It was thanks to boredom that I came across it in the basement. It intrigued me for some reason. My grandma wasn't the most adventures person out there, so it didn't make sense to me as why she would want to 'Travel the world' or 'Taste real wine in Italy'. Although, when my grandpa was alive they would make trips every summer here and there.

Maybe that changed when he passed away.

I would assume so, since she erased those wishes as time went by. Every time I asked her why she kept it when she hadn't any intention to finish it, she would always reply with: ''Time will give you answers.''

So here I was, once again, scanning over the pages with tearful eyes. There was 49 wishes, or bullet points in a literal matter. I felt bad taking it with me, even though she insisted me to, for some reason. I always wanted her to write a 50th last one, to give it some sort of closure. Not because I'm a neat-freak. Not at all.

I closed it, deciding it would be enough thinking about Grams today. I knew I would have a long talk about this later tonight with dad anyways.

On my way downstairs I heard a knock on the door. I groaned when another few fists were banged against the door. I had the urge to knock as violently back to acknowledge the annoyance.

''Took you some time.'' I opened the door and was immediately faced with the person I did not expect to see on my doorstep.

I placed my left hand and leaned against the door frame. ''What are you doing here?''

He smirked and handed me a dusty, green folder. ''I am here because our dear english teacher said so,'' I grabbed the folder he handed me and looked up at him, ''apparently she cut you some slack since your extra assignment had been more than just well done.''

''How did you know where I lived? Aren't you new in town?''

''A month without any friends gives you a lot of spare time, and,'' he stuffed his hands in his pockets after readjusting the backpack strap, ''the principal gave me directions.''