Shifted #Wattys2016

XLIX

"Are you coming or not?" Greyson asked, grabbing his wallet and keys.

"Coming where?"

"Emerson is going over to his friend's house. Would you like to come or not."

"Sure." I stood and pulled on my shoes, following Greyson out to Emerson's truck. It was a broken down piece of junk, old, but not in a cool vintage way. I shoved my hands down into my pockets.

I sat in the middle, Emerson drove fast and dangerous. There wasn't anything to grab onto for each turn or pot hot in the dirt roads.

Once we were there, we all pilled out. Emerson cleared his throat and sniffed a little. He walked to the door of the barn and knocked. "Come on," Greyson grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the side of the barn.

Greyson started to kiss me, running his hand up my shirt.

It's weird with Greyson. I'm two years older than he is, but when I'm around him it feels that I'm two years younger.

But legally, Greyson and I shouldn't be doing as much as we are. Everything's consensual and all, but legally it's still statutory rape.

"Hey!"

Greyson pulled off of my and looked at Emerson. He flipped him off and started to walk to the truck. I followed behind slowly. Silent.

Jac was cleaning when we got home. It's the three of us in the main house, Emerson in the shed, and Matt and Rosa in the in-law suit. Greyson and I share a room—but really it's his room where I'm sleeping. I have a drawer and a shelf in the closet.

When you walk into the house you walk into the living room, dark and cozy, but in a cheap redneck way. Down the hall is one bedroom where the door is always shut, past that is Jac's room where the door is always shut (but I'm pretty sure she's just embarrassed about how he room is clean and no one else's is).

Beside Jac's room is Greyson's. His bed is in the center of the room, dark sheets covering his bed and a fan always on with a window always open. Sitting on the window sill is an ash tray filled to the brim with cigarettes. There's band posters all over the wall and a huge dresser with CDs stacked high. His clothing is everywhere, a bong hidden under the bed.

There's a bathroom off of his room that is much the same as his room. The shower is dingy, the trash over flowing, the sink never cleaned, the toilet is never clean, and towels are wherever.

Falling asleep here—or at least trying to—makes me homesick. I miss my room, clean and organized, and the bathroom, always clean. I miss not smelling like cheap cigarette smoke.

I miss the old pack.

I grabbed the mail from the mail box and went through it as I walked back to the house. Matt and Rosa. Matt and Rosa. Greyson. Emerson. Matt and Rosa. And... Jacqueline.

I knocked on her bedroom door and turned the knob. "Mail." I tossed the envelope on her bed. She pulled out and earbud.

"Thanks."

"You don't get a lot of mail. Who's to from?"

"No one," She said, tearing open the letter. She unfolded it and started to read. I grabbed the envelope and read the return address.

"Allen Country Community College? Iola? That's quite a ways away."

Jac shrugged. "It's not like I got accepted. It's just a letter."

I sat down beside Jac on the bed. She paused her music and handed me the letter. I read it over. "Jac, they want to offer pay for two years of your college. And you're only a sophomore."

"I was a sophomore. If you don't remember, school ended. I'm going to be a junior."

I smiled. "Okay, I know that none of the others will ever say it, but I think it's great."

Jac smiled. "Thanks." She paused, looking down at her book, but not reading it. "Have you and Greyson done anything... serious? Because I know that you're nineteen and he's only seventeen but you guys are only like, fifteen months apart and I don't want him to get you into any trouble because I really like having you around and—" she took a huge breath.

"Jac, slow down. Greyson and I haven't done anything, and we won't do anything until he's eighteen."

She dropped her voice to a whisper. "He's turning eighteen in two weeks."

I nodded.

"I know."