18 Truths by Jamie Ayres Page A

face. Quietly, I tore a piece of paper from my composition book and scrawled, ‘What do we do now?’
    I handed him the note when the teacher turned his back to write something on the whiteboard, the steady clicking of the wall clock making me anxious.
    Nate read my note, then nodded out the window, and I saw her. Grace perched on the edge of a bench in the courtyard, wearing an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants, despite the heat. Her complexion was pale and not in a flattering way. Some sunlight would do her good, but if she cared at all about her future, she’d be in class right now.
    I knew from reading about role playing that because all of this existed just for Grace, we could simply get up and walk out of class without even so much as a hall pass, so Nate held the door open for me, and we left. We found Grace flipping through a trashy magazine, tears streaming down her face.
    “Is everything all right?” Nate asked when we approached her.
    She jumped like a scared cat, then looked at us for a long moment. Her hazel eyes held golden flecks that were mesmerizing to look at. Finally, she broke down in sobs, cradling the magazine to her chest with her sickly pale arms. If we looked up emotional wreck in the dictionary, Grace’s picture would be next to the definition. At least I had managed to keep myself mostly together during my Limbo state. I struggled, but nothing like this. The only thing that wasn’t completely wrecked was her shiny, chestnut colored hair. Even in a messy bun, I could tell she had very long locks. As I sat there staring, no supernatural ideas on what to do flooded my mind, but of course Nate looked as calm as all get out. He dropped down on the bench next to her and hugged her as she continued to quake.
    After a moment, she tried to regain her composure, but putting her mind at ease proved a losing battle. I tried to recall something, anything, from the Angel Code of Conduct to help her, but I came up empty again. Out of options, I simply handed her a tissue from the pack I kept in my bag.
    “I’m not… usually… like this.” She blew her nose a few times.
    I handed her another Kleenex. “It’s okay. What happened? I mean, you don’t have to tell us, but we’re here if you feel like talking.”
    She shook her head slowly, sadly. “I wanted Red Velvet Cake.”
    Nate raised his eyebrows at me.
    I cleared my throat. “Um, wanted Red Velvet Cake for what?”
    “For my eighteenth birthday last Friday. Mom used to make that cake every year for my birthday. It’s the little things I miss most about her, and my homemade birthday cake is one of them.”
    I paused, clasping my hands behind my back, thinking about what to say. “So your mom is…?”
    “Deceased,” Grace finished for me. Of course, I knew this, but she didn’t know we knew.
    “I’m very sorry to hear that,” Nate said, patting her back lightly. “When did she pass?”
    “Three years ago. She was a drunk. One night, on my fifteenth birthday, she drank too much and never woke up again and—” she broke off, turning her face away.
    “And what?” I asked, wanting desperately to know what her next thought was, still reeling from the knowledge that Dr. Judy used to be an alcoholic.
    But the momentary heart-to-heart between all of us snapped.
    Fast as a cougar-strike, Grace jumped up. “What do you care? Who are you anyway?”
    “Who am I?” I asked, trying to search for an answer, because I didn’t quite know anymore. “I’m a girl, like you, who suffered loss. But when I didn’t think I could get out of bed one more day, I had friends, and my b-brother, to help me.” I stumbled on the brother part when looking at Nate, almost calling him my boyfriend. “And it looks like you could use some friends now.”
    Grace didn’t respond. She picked a leaf off a nearby Red Oak tree and shredded it to pieces.
    “You want to get out of here?” Usually, I didn’t think skipping school was a good idea. I’d gotten the