Page 24 of Seeing Grayscale

TWELVE

Overtherestofour drive, Gray tells me more of his favorites.

Each piece of information clues me into his life at one time. His favorite sport is swimming, which we won’t argue about whether it is a real sport or not. Agree to disagree.

His favorite season is spring. Springtime in Washingtonisbeautiful. The temperatures are still chilly but not cold enough to cause a huge hindrance, and all that rain does wonders for the flowers when they eventually show themselves.

I now know that his favorite drink is hot chocolate—made from powder, not syrup—withrealmarshmallows. His favorite animal is a Gaboon viper, which apparently is a highly venomous snake with an intricate pattern over its body. I’ve never seen one before, but as soon as I can, I’m going to look it up.

When we exhaust all the interesting favorites, I tack on the most common.

“What about color?”

He goes quiet, thinking. “None.”

“None?”

Something wistful washes over his face. He’s somber yet at peace, as he explains. “Color is…finite. The real magic comes from shades. A touch of white or black reveals an entirely new scope.”

I frown, thinking back to the single art class I had in high school. “So…greyscale?”

“Exactly. I can’t just pick a color. Never could. I was always drawn to how I could bend them to make my own.” For the hundredth time, we glance at each other. I should be paying attention to the highway, but I’m sucked in by his words, curious to know more. “What about you?” he asks, a slight rasp in his voice.

“Blue. It’s always been blue.”

“Why?” he frowns. “It’s the most common primary colorever.”

I’ve never thought about it before, but now that I am, the first things that come to mind flutter past my lips. “If we are going off of your shade theory, I guess it’s because of how it changes. Too much black, and it’s ominous,terrifying—sets the tone for tragedy. However, with the right amount of light, it’s peaceful—healing. Blue evokes emotion. It tells a story all on its own. I’m drawn to that sort of thing.”

“You are one weird dude, Hunter,” he declares before laughing and facing forward. He chews his thumb while I circle back tomy words.Am I?“But I like that. Blue evokes emotion. Never thought of it that way.”

Me either.

Not until this moment.

Not until you.

The decent thing to do would’ve been to take Gray to a grocery store to pick out what he wants in the house—even though it’s only for the night. But since we got back in myneck of the woods, my dad has been texting me like a maniac, wanting to know when I’ll be over. He doesn’t know that I’m not home. I’m sure he’s figured out that I’ve called off today and tomorrow—word travels fast in our circle—so I’m cutting corners and picking up a carry-out order for Gray.

“I’ll be right back.” I jump out of the car, my steps quick.

While I head inside the local diner to get his meatloaf sandwich, I check the countless texts.

Dad: Davidson said you weren’t in the office today.

Dad: Is there a reason you aren’t responding?

Dad: Your mother wants to know when you’ll be here for supper. She is making a roast.

Dad: Be here by 5.

Dad: It would be a shame if I had to tell her you were purposefully ignoring my texts and are deliberately skipping out on the meal she is making for you.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath and run a hand through my hair.

I was driving. There was traffic, so I didn’t want to risk checking my phone. I’ll be there at 5. Tell Mom I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Pick up for Hunter,” I tell the young guy at the register.

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