What Lurks Beneath the Surface ✔️

chapter one

I awaken to the sound of my blaring alarm clock. I smack the device, sending it to the floor as I begrudgingly leave the comfort of my silk sheets.

"Vange, baby, are you up?" Gram calls from outside my bedroom door.

"Yeah," I groan.

"Good! Get your bum downstairs. Breakfast is almost ready."

I roll my eyes as I amble toward the bathroom to take a quick shower before school. The hot water usually wakes me up, but not today. I can't shake the exhaustion. I went to bed early last night, yet I feel like I didn't sleep at all.

Once I'm dressed in my favorite thrift store jeans, a dark green sweater—Grandpa bought it for me because he thought it would bring out my eyes—and ballet flats, I grab my backpack and hurry downstairs. A mouth-watering aroma fills the air. Without needing to look, I know Gram is making my favorite breakfast: blueberry pancakes.

"Good morning, Grandpa." I place a kiss on the old man's cheek before claiming the seat next to him. "What's on the agenda today?"

"Per usual, I will sit around and twiddle my thumbs," he replies. He retired six months ago and has yet to find a new way to occupy his time. I suggested gardening, but being the indoorsy guy that he is, he rebuffed that idea.

"Hush, Geoffrey," Gram scolds him as she places our breakfast plates in front of us. "You'll find something to do."

"Mhm," he brushes her off, pouring maple syrup all over his pancakes. Once they're completely saturated, he passes the sugary goodness to me with a wink.

I love Grandpa Geoffrey and Grandma Calista more than anything. I've lived with them since I was six years old—since my mother passed away. They've raised me as their own child, and for that, I'm so grateful.

I don't have many memories of my mother. I remember her long mane of red hair and her emerald eyes, which I inherited. I remember her closed-mouth smile that still managed to illuminate a room. I remember her laugh; it was too contagious to forget. Everything else—holidays, trips to the park, even just her helping me with my homework—is a blur.

Then there's my piece-of-shit sperm donor, who I've never even met. According to my grandparents, he bailed on my mom before I was born. He did the same thing to Alyx, the mother of my younger sister, Clementine. And who knows? He probably knocked up half the women in Chicago. I might have a whole herd of illegitimate half-siblings running around.

I think the most humorous part about all of this is that Geoffrey and Calista are my paternal grandparents. Somehow, the two kindest, most selfless people I know raised a deadbeat like my dad. They've been cleaning up after his messes his whole life, so it's only fitting that they're the ones taking care of me. Still, I feel bad. They're pushing seventy, and they're raising a seventeen-year-old. When are they ever going to do something for themselves?

I finish my breakfast and head outside to wait for my best friend, Kira Dixon, who's picking me up. Today is the first day of our senior year. In eight short months, we'll be done with high school forever.

Kira's fire engine red Aston Martin convertible comes to a graceful stop in front of my house. Despite the luxury vehicle, her mother is by no means rich. Alyx's husband, Shamus, is a car guy, and he helped her find a good deal. Kira had to bus tables all summer in order to afford half of the cost; her mom graciously offered to cover the rest.

Through her heart-shaped sunglasses, Kira's blue eyes look up at me. She pats the passenger seat beside her and flashes a mischievous smile. "You gettin' in or what?"

Eagerly, I nod my head and climb into the car. I'm not excited for school, but I am excited for my first ride in....

"Kira, what did you name it?" I ask.