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“Watch where you’re going next time, Luke.” She snickered. Her large brown eyes crinkled at the sides and I found my lips slowly spreading into a big, toothy grin.
I jogged up next to her. “What’s your homeroom?”
“Ms. Chin. English. You?”
“Same. Mind if I walk you?”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
I sat next to Grace that day and missed another basketball game with Marcus at lunch to sit with her. I liked her take on things. She had this way of making me laugh without trying. “Why do teachers make us do icebreakers?” Grace asked. “It’s so awkward.” She shivered. “Do they really think it’s a good idea to make us stand up and have everyone stare at us?”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. Now I know your favorite artist is Vinci.”
“It’s da Vinci, and everyone laughed when I said it.”
“That’s because no one’s ever heard of him. Most of us chose our favorite band.”
She groaned and threw her head back. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
I laughed while we walked back to class.
Later that day, I offered to walk her home from school. Her mother worked long hours, she said, and her dad was “not around”. I told her my parents were gone, too.
She looked at me, side-eye, her lips pursed. “That’s okay. Adults are stupid anyway.”
I laughed. I liked Grace Sweeney. She made me feel like I could tell her anything. “My uncle is pretty stupid.”
“Like I said. And adult men are even worse than women.”
“You realize I’m a boy and will one day be a man, right?”
“Yep. But you don’t seem stupid. So, don’t prove me wrong.”
I laughed again. This girl said exactly what she felt and didn’t hold back. I liked Grace Sweeney.
“I won’t,” I said, not knowing that I would break that promise two years later in high school.
***
I laced up my boots as I recalled that memory. I may have broken that promise, but I would not let her down again. Straightening out of the sofa in the hotel room, I walked toward the balcony facing the city of Paris.
The Eiffel Tower lit up the night sky and tourists swarmed around it like moths to a flame. A possessive feeling enveloped me, as though I didn’t want to share Grace with anyone else this weekend. An idea shot to mind.
“Grace?” I called out.
She popped her head out of the bathroom. “Yes?”
“Have you ever been to the south of France?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never left New York State, Luke. No, I’ve never been to the south of France.”
She shook her head, but her eyes crinkled, and I smiled. “I’m taking you tomorrow. We’ll fly there and hop on one of our boats docked in Saint-Tropez.”
“You have a—never mind,” she laughed. “I’m learning to not ask questions. You live a very different life than mine, Luke.”
“It doesn’t have to be so different anymore,” I said, walking up to her. She wore just her panties and a bra. The little lace scrap hardly hid much.
“I recognize that look, Luke,” she said, stepping back. “You said we have reservations at seven. We won’t make it in time.”
