Friday night, but later, Falcon Lane was deserted when Aria dropped me off at home.
At least, at a glance it looked deserted.
Because when I got out the car, I saw a large shape sneak across the street. It looked like it's limping slightly.
"Hey," I called out.
The shape froze.
"Who are you yelling at?" Aria hissed, leaning over the passenger seat to look at me. "What if it's a murderer?"
"Even more reason to scare them off," I said. I tapped the roof of her car, then walked away. "Thanks for the ride!"
"Monty, don't think about going after-"
I jogged up to the shape. "Hey!"
"Monty!" Aria yelled, but I ignored her.
The shape took a hesitant step towards the Rogers' house. The insecurity felt a little odd for a murderer.
"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the dark shape turned around. "Could you maybe, uh, keep it down? I don't want my mom to wake up."
I cocked my head. "And why are you sneaking around in the middle of the night, Grayson Rogers?"
Grayson rubbed the back of his neck and looked off to the side. "Nothing special."
The most logical question would be to ask if he went to a fight, and if he won, but I didn't like admitting that I listened to gossip, so I didn't ask.
Instead I said, "You were limping."
"Uh, yeah." Grayson shuffled his feet, then winced and stopped. "I fell."
Or you were fighting an opponent much larger than yourself, and you won, but not without getting injured yourself.
"Does it hurt?"
He shrugged. "A little. It's not too bad. Just bashed up my knee."
This is getting ridiculous, I thought. No more skirting around the issue.
"You know, people have been talking."
"Don't they always?"
The answer made me smile. "True."
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
It felt a little like last Friday night, standing a respectable distance apart on a sleepy Falcon Lane, Grayson Rogers quiet like the night while I searched for words to fill the silence.
I didn't find any pretty words, so I used clear ones.
"They're saying you've been fighting people for money. And that's why you're always covered in cuts and bruises."
Grayson was silent as he took in my words.
Then he laughed. Not loud and boisterous, but quiet and warm.
"I'm guessing it's not true," I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.
"Man, I wish, M," he laughed. "That would be so much cooler than the truth."
M.
The nickname transported me back to that evening three years ago, when the rain was pelting down against the windows and the sky had rumbled deafeningly. When our jeans had been soaked and our hair had been dripping and we had been freezing to the bone.
This was fun, M. Thanks.
"So if it's not illegal fighting, where did you get the injuries then?"
"I went to Winshall National Forest, and I fell."
I stared at him. "Are you serious? That's like an hour away. By car ."
"Yeah, I, uh... I asked a friend to drive me there. He's just as crazy about geography as I am. We do hikes together, and sometimes we take samples of soil or rocks. I mean, there's not a lot of research done in the forest anymore, so whenever we find something interesting we send it to the Forest Service."
It's the most surprising answer Grayson could've given. It's also the most I had heard him say unprompted.
"You're probably thinking it's real boring," he added quickly, when I only stared at him in surprise. "But like, there's tons of secrets buried underneath the earth. The Winshall forest was shaped by whitewater rapids and explosive volcanic events, so we find real interesting stuff from time to time. At least, I think it's interesting."
"Grayson Rogers," I said slowly.
He wrung his hands nervously. "Yeah?"
"That is so much cooler than illegal fighting."
"You think so?"
He gave me that lopsided smile.
"Most definitely. Are you kidding me? You explore nature in your free time!" I pushed up my red glasses. "I used to collect rocks and gems when I was younger. I still have this box full of rocks I gathered on trips. I think a few might even be from the Winshall National Forest."
"For real?"
"Yeah! You can take a look at them sometime, if you want. I don't know if it's particularly interesting, but---"
"Yeah, I'd like that," he said.
"Alright," I smiled.
Grayson was still grinning. "Cool."
"So I'm guessing it's not a murderer?" Aria yelled from her car.
***
Monday morning, my car still didn't have gas.
"Do you want a ride?" Grayson Rogers yelled from across the street.
"Yes, please!" I yelled back, then made my way over.
Without question, Grayson handed me the keys, and I took them with a smile.
I liked knowing that Grayson Rogers was a nervous driver.
"How's your knee?" I asked, after we got in the truck.
He clicked his seatbelt in place. "Hurts when I bend it, but otherwise I'm good."
"Are you going hiking again this week?"
"Yeah."
I drove out the driveway, while mulling over the question I wanted to ask.
We're already on the main road when I finally did.
"Why don't you correct people?"
"About the fighting?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know."
From the corner of my eye, I could see Grayson lean his head against the window. His dark curls fell slightly in front of his eyes.
"I guess..." he started, then stopped. "Nah, it's gonna sound stupid."
"I won't judge you. Whether it's stupid or not."
"That means it can still be stupid."
"Yeah, but I won't judge you for it," I pointed out.
He laughed, and I couldn't help but smile. "Alright, alright. I guess I kinda like how the rumours keep people away. I'm not really good at, uh, talking, as you might've noticed."
That's not true.
The way Grayson talked about his expeditions, the way it made his eyes light up and his words flow freely... The way it made me hold my breath and listen intently.
"So was it stupid?" he asked, after I parked the car at school and turned off the engine.
"No, I get it. It took me a while to find people I connected to, so I understand how tiresome it can be. I just think you should try."
He looked down at his hands. He's quiet for a while.
"Yeah, maybe you're right."
Before I could respond, Grayson got out the car. The sounds of Monday morning flooded inside for a second before the door fell shut again.
I quickly got out too.
"Grayson!" I called.
When he turned, I threw the car keys. He caught them with an ease that looked cool.
"I like talking to you," I said.
Grayson looked startled.
He dropped his eyes to the ground, but it didn't hide the smile on his face.
***
Tuesday morning, in the car, I had something to say.
"I don't mean that you should try to make as many friends as possible. Just that it seems like you're not giving anyone a chance right now. And I think that's a shame, because you're worth getting to know. You deserve friends just as much as anyone else."
When Grayson didn't respond, I chanced a quick glance in his direction.
The tips of his ears were red.
"Thanks," he mumbled. "It's just... I just don't know where to start."
"You could eat lunch with my friends," I suggested.
"Uh..."
"They'll like you. I know they will."
"Yeah, okay. Maybe."
A/N:
When you see someone limping in the middle of the street, don't panic. It's probably just Grayson from one of his hikes lol. Don't forget to vote and comment! :D