An unfortunate accident has sent Grace Reeves spiraling out of control. Having lost her voice, as well as her closest friends. , she returns home to recuperate. But as time passes, Grace's family grows concerned with the severity of her depression...
I take the teenager's elbow, stretching it behind him to form a perfect angle. "There," I say, nudging his cleat with my sneaker. "Feet hip-distance apart, and keep your weight on your toes."
He nods, focused on the green expanse before us. The young quarterback was nervous at first, but I've been at Pemberton Academy since dawn. The celebrity effect has worn off, and the varsity football team is ready to learn.
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It's the beginning of summer, so a few players are on vacation—or simply don't care to put in the extra effort. I'm certain Aidan, the assistant coach, will be etching their names onto the bench for the upcoming season.
The kid winds his arm back, spiraling a pass into the endzone. He grins, proud of the distance he gained. "Awesome. Thanks, Saint Arlington."
"It's just Payton," I remind him, slapping his shoulder pad before jogging to the sidelines.
Diehard parents are huddled on the bleachers in cliques. As I pass, a few of them snap pictures, which I know will end up featured in the tabloids with a sinister spin. The headlines are getting worse, and the suspicion is on me.
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Three days after Grace was admitted to Suncoast Recovery, her isolation ban was lifted, and I expected a call from her. None of us received one. A week later, the involuntary hold expired, and I assumed she'd show on our stoop in New Orleans. Instead, she sent a message through Doctor Hillary Avalon, saying she wasn't ready to leave the island.
That was fifty-four days, seven hours, and—I check my watch—fifteen minutes ago.
I've been receiving updates from Doctor Avalon, but they're vague. I was on the verge of demanding proof of life when Mason was contacted by the facility. Grace has requested a visit from her father, and he's catching a redeye to the Suncoast Keys tonight.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't bitter about not being chosen, but that jealousy is wrapped in relief. Grace is finally reaching out, even if it's not to me. She wants to see her dad, and I can understand that. More, I think it's a wonderful idea. I just wish I wasn't six-foot-two, so I could cram myself into Mason's suitcase and spy on them through the zipper. I'd have to share the space with Mallory, though, who is also clamoring for news about her daughter's condition.
