Chapter 10: Grayson: College Procrastination

"Hey, Grays," Dad says as I enter the shop. He's wearing faded jeans covered in grease and a T-shirt with the garage logo printed on the back. He cleans his hands on a rag and wipes his brow with the back of his hand. A bright red semi-truck is jacked up, parts strewn below it. "How was your first day of school?"

"Same stuff. Different school." I sit on a metal stool and watch as he rifles through a toolbox. "I'm in an exclusive AP Spanish class."

"Impressive." He picks up a wrench and turns his attention to me. "Probably gonna be here late tonight." He motions toward the truck. "Rush job. Owner will be here bright and early in the morning."

"Okay."

"I left some money on the counter at home. You can order a pizza or something for dinner." He turns his back to me and mutters something I can't quite understand.

Until a month ago, my father was a mechanic in the Army. Now, he's just a mechanic working at his brother's garage, which specializes in tractor trailers. When he decided to retire - thanks to my mother's betrayal and untimely death - he moved us to Michigan to live closer to his family. Hopefully, this is the last time I'll have to move until college.

"Make any friends today?" he asks as he slides under the truck.

My mind flashes to Isabelle, and I can't help the smile that forms. But then I remember she has a boyfriend, and my smile fades. "Yeah, I met a few people."

"Well, it's just the first day. I'm sure you'll have tons of friends by the end of the week."

I don't know about that, but his optimism is contagious.

"Did you meet with the principal and guidance counselor?"

"Yeah, the principal." I shift on the stool, knowing full well where this conversation is headed.

Even though half his body is hidden beneath the truck, I can hear his heavy sigh. "Grayson."

I roll my eyes.

"You can't keep putting this off, or else you'll never get into college."

I grit my teeth and remain silent.

"If you don't figure this out soon, I'm driving you to the recruitment office."

Over my dead body. "I'll set up an appointment tomorrow," I say just so he'll get off my back about college and stop threatening me with enlisting. The military is his thing, not mine, and the sooner he accepts that the better. Now, if only I can figure out what I want to do about college.

"Thank you." He grunts and twists hard enough on something that his entire body tenses. "So, I was talking with Bryan earlier." Bryan is my uncle - Dad's brother. "He said we can store your bike in the garage out back for the winter."

That's the one thing I'm not too happy about - the impending snow that will make it so I can't ride my motorcycle. It was the same in New York, and I hated it then, too. In New York, though, I took public transportation back and forth to school. That isn't an option here. "So, how will I be getting to school?"

"You can drive my truck." He grunts again and then slides out from under the truck. "Bryan wants me to drive the company truck anyway. Says it will help promote the business."

"Cool." I love Dad's truck. It's sleek black with a custom grill, three-inch lift kit, tinted windows, and a killer stereo.

"We'll put your bike in storage the beginning of November, okay?"

I nod. Dad resumes working on the truck. I sit and watch for a little while. Then, I hop off the stool. "All right. I'm heading home. I'll save you some pizza."

"Thanks, buddy."

I slip out the side door, get on my bike, and head home. Our house is five minutes from the shop, so it doesn't take me long to get there. The small, single-floor ranch sits several hundred feet back from the road, and the driveway is lined with trees, most of which have already lost their leaves. I park right in front of the porch, jog up the steps, and let myself inside.

A wave of heat blasts me in the face. Dad must've forgotten to turn down the thermostat. Again. I adjust the temperature and then head to the kitchen to find the money he left. After looking up the phone number for the local pizzeria, I call and order a large pizza with pepperoni, bacon, and mushrooms. Then I grab the remote from the coffee table and flop down on the couch. The first couple of weeks in a new place always sucks. I have no friends to hang out with, and I don't know the area well enough to go anywhere. So, watching television it is.

I'm flipping through the channels for the tenth time when there's a knock on the door. My stomach growls. Tossing the remote on the couch, I stand and go to the door. When I swing it open, my jaw drops. "Vick?"

"Oh, hey, man." He holds up a pizza box. "Looks like I'm your delivery boy."

"Come in." I step aside so he can enter and close the door behind him. "I didn't know you worked at Parker's Pizza."

"Someone's gotta pay for my surfing addiction, and my parents won't."

"There's surfing in Michigan?"

"Not really. But I spend summers in California with my grandmother."

"Oh. Right." I nod. "How much do I owe you?"

"Um..." He pulls the pizza from the warming bag and reads the receipt taped to the top of the box. "Twelve sixty-four."

I hand him the twenty. "Keep the change."

"Dude, thanks." He pockets the money and hands me the box.

"Wanna slice?" I call over my shoulder as I head toward the kitchen.

"Sure." He follows me and leans against the counter. "I'll just say I got lost looking for your house."

I open the box and inhale the smell of melted cheese, sauce, and meat. My stomach growls again.