Saving Grace

7

Mr Lee was teaching. I can't remember the topic – most things I learnt in that room were forgotten ten minutes after leaving it – but the collective interest had splintered and fallen apart rather quickly, and so as per usual, I became the scapegoat in Lee's addresses to the class.

"Can anybody tell me the answer?"

Silence.

"Richard?"

"Thirty-nine," I yawned.

Lee switched out his blue marker for an orange one, finishing the formula in his spidery handwriting. I looked on, bored, unsatisfied with the crushing mediocrity of my everyday life. Lee, none the wiser, carried on and I could feel a question creeping up his throat – his voice tended to shift tones when this happened – and so I stayed tuned in for maybe a minute, before my phone started to buzz in my pocket. I frowned, stole a glance. Grace's ten digits stared back at me, incessant but beautiful. I looked up at Mr Lee, who had his back to us, as he spouted his revision topics for upcoming exams. God, I wanted to answer. More than anything. I wanted her to rock up outside the school with a stolen jetpack or with two one way tickets to Bangkok. Anything to get me out here.

"Sir?" I inquired.

Mr Lee paused, looked at me.

"I really have to go to the bathroom."

He waved a hand absentmindedly.

"Yeah, go."

My lips were pulled into a slow but wide grin as I leapt up from my desk and sprinted for the bathroom. My trembling hands had hit the answer button before the stall door had even swung shut.

"Grace?"

"Hey, homie." She said casually.

"How are you?"

"Fine. A little hungover. Nothing unusual. I'm calling you to invite you to a party tonight at my house."

The blood in my veins suddenly gushed, spilling out under my cheeks and turning my face a deep tropical red.

"A party?" I asked.

"Yeah. You know – drinking, dancing, hooking up, probably some weed. Normal shit. We might even get up to some real trouble, if you want." She added mischievously.

"We only just did the car thing last night," I said. "Do you ever just, I don't know, have a night in? You know – watch a movie, eat popcorn, go to bed?"

Grace erupted into static laughter, her breathing heavy and hearty and alive.

"Be here by seven, okay?"

"I don't even know where you live."

"I'll text you the address." She paused. "Oh, and, Richie? Did you happen to call me last night? Maybe on another phone?"

I frowned.

"No," I said. "I crashed pretty much as soon as I got home."

"I thought so. Never mind. I'll see you tonight."

She hung up.

***

Grace's mansion was settled on the edge of land and sea – two stories, painted creamy white, with an oaky red door facing a well-kempt lawn which ran the length of her blooming yard. At the edge of this luscious green, a row of rose bushes stared up into the scarlet sky – blood reds, delicate pinks, bright yellows, and even a small collection of midnight blue specimens, rare and almost hypnotic in their pigments. I eyed them from the marble porch, huddling under my jacket to keep the wintery air from frosting over my pale skin.