Page 64 of The Color of Grace

“That’s no reason to totally abandon your old friends, Grace.”

“I didn’t! They abandoned me. Something else you would know if you just stopped to talk to me.”

“I try, Grace. I really try. You’re the one who—”

I scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Not once have I heard you ask me, ‘Hey, Grace have you become sexually active?’ Did you even think about asking me? I would’ve been honest. Have you ever known me to lie? But you didn’t ask. How could you just assume…” My voice broke. “Next time you want to know if I’m a virgin, just ask. All right?”

My emotions roared out of control, so I gave up on talking. Folding my arms over my chest, I turned and stared out the side window.

Mom took up the silent treatment as well. I hoped she was soaking in my accusations and realizing she’d actually been in the wrong.

The anger carried me most of the way home, which I’m glad for because as soon as the actual devastation set in, I started crying these huge, hot, soaking tears and I couldn’t stop. Without speaking to the woman who had given birth to me, I slammed out of the car as soon as we parked, then stomped into the house, stormed all the way to my room and locked the door. That’s when I stood petrified in the center of the room Barry had assigned to me and felt utter misery.

I ripped back the covers on my bed, crawled between the sheets and bawled, forgetting to even take my shoes off.

For hours.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone, look at anyone, or hear anyone.

When my cell phone rang, I dug it out of my book bag only to turn it off. When Mom knocked on my door to announce supper, I didn’t move. She must’ve realized I wasn’t going to abandon my bed unless she broke down the door and literally dragged me by my hair to the dining room because she never knocked again that night.

I didn’t leave my room, or even my bed, until about one or two in the morning when I had to use the bathroom. The rest of the house was dark; I was grateful.

Saturday and Sunday progressed very similar to Friday evening. I avoided everyone and everything, only sneaking out of my room to scavenge for food and use the necessities. Mom left me alone, which made me think she really had decided she’d been wrong. Didn’t matter, though; it wouldn’t change what she’d done to me and how she’d made me feel.

I was afloat, utterly alone, in this vast sea everyone called life, and I saw no land or rescue in any direction. It was frightening, and I wasn’t sure what to do. So I hid.

Chapter 18

I looked up the symbolism for gray. Sorrow, security, maturity. Sorrow and maturity sound about right. I’ve just lost my mother for good, and it’s left me feeling wrinkled and old, a sheet of white paper that had been exposed to too much pain and faded to gray. But security? That drifted off in a thick, gray fog and left me bare to the elements. I wish I had someone to lean against and help me through this era of my life.

* * * *

When Monday rolled around, I didn’t want to go to school. But it was something to do, something to get me out of Barry’s house and away from my mother. It was also something solid and real. School, classes, homework. It was reliable, a pattern and consistency I could cling to.

But as I walked in the front door and looked around at the clusters of people chatting and laughing, I felt sick. School was normal, but I was not. I felt changed.

With mechanical steps, I made my way to my locker and stored my books and bag. Art would be my first class of the day. I almost looked forward to going and burying myself into my project. I finally had an idea for my big courthouse display; working on it would be a welcome release from reality.

I’d just shut my locker and had turned to head toward Art when I jerked to a halt.

Across the way, Ryder studied me, his eyes squinted in confusion. What’s wrong? He mouthed the question.

I blanched, worried about how he could tell anything looked off about me. I glanced down at my clothes, making sure I’d dressed properly enough. Everything seemed to be in order, so I lifted my face. He’d taken a step closer as if he wanted to come to me.

I wanted it too, so I started toward him. I have no idea what I would’ve said or done, but I’m pretty sure I would’ve disgraced myself; therefore, it’s a good thing Todd appeared before I could reach Ryder.

“Hey,” he said. “I tried to get a hold of you this weekend. Emailed, texted, called your phone. You never answered.”

I opened my mouth, not sure what to say. The words that blundered out were, “I had a fight with my mom.”

He frowned a moment as if to say that totally didn’t excuse why I hadn’t answered a call, or text, or email. But then his eyes crinkled in sympathy. “Did she ground you?”

I shook my head, unable to describe the specifics.

Seeming to finally catch on that I’d experienced something traumatic, he softened the expression on his face even more, quietly asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Again, I shook my head.

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