Grayson's Body

Broad

Chapter 24: Broad

Broad

(brôd)

adj. broad·er, broad·est

1. Wide in extent from side to side

2. Large in expanse; spacious

3. Having a certain width from side to side

4. Full; open

5. Covering a wide scope; general

6. Liberal; tolerant

7. Relating to or covering the main facts or the essential points

8. Plain and clear; obvious

9. Vulgar; ribald

10. Strikingly regional or dialectal

I felt my anxiety bloom like a deadly flower in my chest. I balled my hands into fists, releasing them after a moment. My jaw was clenched so tightly that I knew it would be sore long after I released the pressure, but I let it go. I had to let it go.

I placed my hand on the hood of my car, feeling the smoothness of the top, and curled my fingers around the frame. I wished for a moment that I had my glasses on, to confirm what I was seeing was real and true.

But I knew it was.

How could he do this?

But more importantly, why?

"Ethan! Are you okay?!"

I heard Mrs. Clark's concerned voice as it cut through the dark air like a knife. I looked down, releasing my hand. I stared at my front tire, the wind lightly blowing against my face, sweet and almost salty, like the sea salt air you'd find at some beach.

There were no beaches in Kettle.

In the distance I heard the distinct sound of a dog barking. It was loud, and fevered, and a heat fell over me. It was one that I could feel in my skin, in my throat, and I shook my head.

I walked around to the back, surveying the damage done.

Again.

It looked like he had gone bat shit crazy on each one of them.

They were, by clear definition, flat. My heart was pounding in my chest, quick like that of a rabbit's. My brain was still trying to process that Grayson was, in fact, not there waiting for me.

Oh, and that he had screwed the hell out of my car.

I glanced up at the noise, my thoughts shifting to my name being called. She was, in fact, calling my name.

I looked at Mrs. Clark standing on her front porch, her arms crossed tightly around her slim frame, her lips a fine line. The whiteness of her bathrobe almost hurt my eyes, and I blinked a couple of times. An uneasiness had settled onto her clean, bare face, but I tried to make it seem like everything was okay. I took a step back, my mind racing to figure out what I was going to do.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I called, giving her a smile. I felt the pull of it like something automatic, something forced. She didn't smile back.

I moved away from it and Mrs. Clark watched me. I didn't look at her again as I made my way onto my own front porch, across the wide lawn, acting as though I was going to get the keys. I leaned my back against the smooth siding of the house by the door, next to the empty, cold mailbox, knowing that Mom wouldn't be able to see me from inside because she was busy getting ready for work.