Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice

And It Begins

As I slowly wake up I turn my head to look at Grace, but she isn’t there. I feel the part of the bed that she slept on and it isn’t warm, so she’s been gone for a while. For some reason, even though I know she’s probably just in the living room, I begin to panic about what could have happened to her. What if Skyline found out about her? What if she’s in one of their awful interrogation rooms with the cold concrete walls and single chair in the centre? I quickly shake those thoughts away.

“Grace?” I roll out of the bed and check the bathroom. When I push it, the door swings open and Grace isn’t inside.

“I’m in the kitchen!” I hear her call from outside of my room. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief and pull a long sweater on over the tank top and shorts I wore to bed. When I get into the kitchen I see Grace’s feet behind the fridge door.

“Good morning,” I yawn and stretch. “You won’t find anything in there. Try the cupboards, I might have some tinned fruit or something.” I hop up onto one of the kitchen stools and pour a cup of coffee into the mug that is out ready for me. Grace emerges from behind the door with a bottle of skim milk and an armful of food.

“Where did you get that?” I ask in surprise, remembering very distinctly that the fridge was empty a couple of days ago.

“I went to the grocery store this morning. Some people have to eat.” She sets the pile of food on the counter and begins opening various packets and jars.

“I just eat a lot of takeout food.” I mumble into my mug with a frown.

“Whatever, do you want some bacon?” She holds up a pack of gross looking raw meat. I point to myself with a smile.

“Vegetarian.”

“Oh, right.” She turns back to the hob and places three pieces of bacon in a frying pan. The sizzling sound is familiar to me and as the smell wraps around me I begin to think of my childhood.

The first time I ever remember my mom making me a bacon sandwich is when I was six years old. I wasn’t a vegetarian back then, but for some reason I had never had bacon. The popping and crackling sound as the bacon crisped in the pan was probably the best part about it. I peered over the edge of the frying pan to watch the dripping pink meat turn pale and then slightly brown.

I sat at the table with my mom and we ate our sandwiches while I told her about my day at school. As I finished my sandwich and sat licking the ketchup off my fingers, my next door neighbour, Scotty, walked in. He was a year older than me, and spent his life plotting new ways to wind me up.

“So, how did Babe taste, Jenny?” He asked with pure malice ringing in his voice. I dropped my finger from my mouth and stared at him with my mouth wide open.

“What?” I could feel tears prickling behind my eyes.

“Nothing, Jenny.” My mom tried to soothe me. “Scotty Vagard, you shut your mouth right this minute or I’ll go and tell your mother.” She warned with narrowed eyes.

“Sorry, Mrs Graye, I realise Jenny doesn’t know bacon is just sliced up dead pigs.” His smile widened as he scurried from the room. I heard the front door open and close again before the tears really spilled over. With that simple sentence uttered by Scotty Vagard, I became a vegetarian.

“Jen? Jenny?” Grace’s voice is sounding impatient as I snap back into reality.

“Sorry, what?” I blink spastically.

“I asked if you have any plans today.” She flips the bacon out of the pan and onto a slice of buttered bread.

“No, no plans.” I shrug and take another sip of coffee.