Chapter 3

I was somewhat cranky in the morning, on account of getting almost no sleep, but I tried my hardest not to take it out on Ilene. She didn't need me to be a bitch to her simply because I hadn't been able to sleep because of the full moon. So, when I heard her coming into the kitchen for breakfast, I promised myself that I wouldn't pick a fight.

And boy was it the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.

She pranced into the kitchen, singing the words to a song I didn't recognize. "I kissed a girl and I liked it..."

I shuddered involuntarily and she looked at me, surprised.

"Don't you like that song?"

I couldn't answer. I was afraid of what I might say to her. Instead, I counted to ten and finished my cereal, trying to ignore her atrociously bright outfit.

She was wearing a hot pink skirt with beaded flip flops. Her white blouse was thin and sleeveless. She had on a bracelet and matching necklace. Her hair was pulled back into a large braid down her back; she'd weaved a pink ribbon through it. She had pink sparkling lip gloss in her hand, and was generously applying it.

When she was done, she said, "Come on sleepy head! I'm gonna be late for school."

I groaned and grabbed my car keys off of the kitchen counter. "Why do you always have to dress so loud?"

I hated how absolutely colorful her wardrobe was. I didn't understand why she didn't try to blend in a little more, like me. I always dressed plainly in faded blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and tennis shoes. My hair was swept up into a sloppy ponytail. It was how I looked every day; I didn't have anybody to impress, so I didn't try.

I rinsed out the bowl I'd used for my cereal, and she whined impatiently as I walked out the front door. She followed me, prancing and singing again. She frowned as she slid in next to me. "Come on!"

One of the great things about living for as long as we did, was all of the great opportunities to make money. Ray's great-grandfather had made it big, and he'd passed his money on down the line. Ray was set for life and would never actually have to work. He'd had a job until mom died, and then he spent all of his spare time raising the two of us as best as he could.

So, after I shifted for the first time, Ray bought me a brand new red ford mustang. I wasn't really a car person, and I knew only the basics of caring for a car, but even I knew that it was a nice one. Ilene was jealous, and she was always begging me to let her drive it.

Every time she asked, I always told her since the day I got it that she could drive it when she was sixteen and had her license.

That would never happen now.

After dropping her off at school, I drove for a few minutes until I reached a small white house downtown. It was one story, with blue shutters and a short gravel driveway. I parked out front and walked up to the front door as quietly as I could. I turned the doorknob, hoping not to wake anyone inside the quiet house.

Once I was inside, I paused for a minute, listening for any signs of movement in the house. Instead, I heard a loud snoring from a room to my left and a softer breathing from the room on my far right. I smiled at crept to the open door on my right. I peeked my head in.

A young man lay stretched out over the covers of his queen-sized bed. He wore a pair of navy sweats and nothing else.

He was twenty-two years old and just under six feet in height. His hair was such a dark blonde that it resembled blonde, and it was cut shorter on the sides than on the top. A patch of it flopped over his forehead, covering one of his dark brown eyes. His build was semi-muscular; his body was covered in hard wiry muscle.

Quietly, I tiptoed into the room, thinking of the perfect way to scare him. I stopped at the foot of the bed, trying to hold back the giggles that were bubbling up.

This is gonna be great.

I opened my mouth and his eyes snapped open. In one swift fluid movement, he reached over, grabbed my arms, and hauled me on top of his bed. He rolled over, pinning me to the mattress beneath him. He was laughing; it was such a deep, wonderful sound.

His laugh was so infections I had to join in. I stared up into his eyes, and at his strong angular features, and I was struck dumb at the sheer beauty of my best friend.

When we were done laughing, he moved aside and let me up off the bed. I looked over my shoulder at him. He swung his long legs over the edge of his bed and made his way gracefully to the oak dresser on the other side of his room. He pulled out something to wear for the day. "You mind leaving?" He asked with a chuckle. "Unless you wanna see even more of my hot body."

I groaned in mock annoyance, and resisted the urge to smack him as I walked by. Shaking my head, I left him to dress in peace and quiet. I opened the fridge, searching for anything to snack on. That bowl of cereal hadn't filled me up much.

There, on the counter beside me, was a group of bananas. They were in perfect condition, and my mouth started to water. I grabbed a banana and perched myself on a stool in the kitchen

A few minutes later he left his bedroom and joined me. He was dressed for the day in jeans and a hoodie. He dug around in the fridge for a minute, before pulling out a carton of orange juice.

He chugged straight from the carton and I tried not to wince in disgust. He shook the carton in my general direction when he was done. "Do you want some?" He asked.

"Um, no. Your spit is all over the opening."

He titled his head slightly in my general direction. "And?"

I shook my head. "Quinten, you are seriously disgusting."

He laughed. "I think you're confusing disgusting with sexy. See, there is a difference."

A giggle escaped my lips, and I tried to hide it in a cough. Judging by the slight smile on his lips, he heard it though.

He ducked his head back in the fridge and put the carton back, before leaning against the counter. "So, what's the plan for the day?"

I shrugged.

He waited patiently for an answer, and I felt instantly stupid.

Quinten Taylor had been my best friend since we were kids. He was always around when I needed him, and he knew how to make me smile with just one small word or glance. It was like he was an extension of myself. Nothing had ever separated us. Not even his accident.

He maneuvered his way around the kitchen, not bumping into a single thing, choosing to ignore my stupid silence. "So, what were you doing in my bedroom while I was still asleep?"

"I was going to surprise you," I admitted, slightly embarrassed.

He ducked under an open cupboard while I stared. "Well, that didn't exactly work out for you, did it?"

I glared, which was of course wasted on him. "You know you're a klutz when you can't sneak up on a blind person."

To my extreme annoyance, he chuckled. "I'm not exactly helpless, Alanna."

When Quinten was eight years old, he'd been in a terrible car accident that had killed both of his parents and had left him permanently blind. It didn't slow him down for long though. Now he was just as capable as anyone else. For the most part.

In fact, sometimes I got the feeling that he saw more than anyone else. Not in a physical sense of course, but Quinten was one of the most perceptive people I'd ever met. He tended to be an excellent judge of character and I'd take his word about someone over anybody else's.

"You still wanna head over to the mall?" he asked.

I tried not to feel guilty about asking him to go with me. Quinten hated the mall more than anything. Anyplace that had a lot of noise and a lot of people made him uncomfortable. It made him feel lost because he couldn't get his bearings like he did at home.

"Yeah, I need a new bathing suit, new shoes, and something new to listen to. I've gone through all of my CD's like a thousand times."

He grunted once, which to me was a vague guy-like response, and went back to whatever he was doing. Someone moaned from the other bedroom and he looked up and sighed. "That damn nurse had better be on time today."

"How is your grandma?" I asked tentatively.

Quinten's grandmother was always a little bit of a touchy subject. She had severe Alzheimer's. She needed full-time care on a good day. On a bad day she had trouble recognizing her own grandson. Quinten tried not to let it show, but I could tell that it bothered him.

After his parents' accident, he'd gone to stay with his only living relative. It was a few years later that the signs of Alzheimer's began to show, and they'd gotten steadily worse over the years. His grandmother sometimes lost control of her bladder, and couldn't do most everyday tasks by herself. She required a nurse to help her with everything from dressing, to showering, to feeding herself.

"She's as good as ever," he said angrily. "How the hell do you think she's doing?"

"Well excuse me for caring!" I snapped.

He turned toward me and his features slowly softened. "I'm sorry, Alanna. I just...really don't like talking about her. She's getting worse."

I sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry."

I hated seeing him so upset and alone all of the time. He didn't have many people to talk to, other than me and his grandmother.

There was a light knock at the front door, interrupting our conversation. Quinten left me to my banana, and walked over to the front door. "Hello Mr. Taylor."

"Hey," he said quietly.

They lowered their voices, having a hushed conversation in front of the door. After a minute, they appeared together. The nurse was in her late forties, with a tight graying bun and sharp dark eyes. Quinten took her to his grandma's room and came back out.

"How long does the nurse usually stay?"

"Almost the entire day. The doctor wants me to have my grandma moved into a skilled nursing facility," he sneered. "He thinks she's a lost cause."

"Quinten-"

"I can take care of her!" He exploded.

"You need to take care of yourself. There are plenty of other people to take care of her, you know that. All of them are more skilled and available than you. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your life to do this."

"She's my grandma, Alanna. I can't just hang her out to dry because she's become a little inconvenient. She didn't do that to me after my accident. A lot of people would have hated taking care of a special needs child like me. She didn't though. She raised me practically as her own. Do you know how much she had to sacrifice to do that?"

"I know," I said, gently placing my hand on his shoulder. 'But you have to consider that that might be what's best for her. She obviously needs twenty-four hour care, and as much as you want to be able to, you just can't provide that. Nobody would think less of you for admitting that you need some extra help."

"I can't afford it," he whispered. "I can barely afford the house payment. I don't know how I can afford to get her the help that she obviously needs."

I made a quick decision, but I wasn't sure if he'd want to here it. Men are so proud. Will I be insulting him if I offer to help?

I took a deep breath. "Quinten, you know that my dad would probably help. All you have to do is ask."

He flinched, and I prepared myself for another verbal attack.

It didn't come.

His shoulders slumped and he gave a defeated sigh. "Alright, I'll talk to him tonight. Do you really think he'll help?"

I nodded. 'Yes, I know he would," I said, hoping that I was right. "We can talk to him later, after we get back from the mall."

His grandma's bedroom door opened and the nurse helped his grandma out into the kitchen. She paused when she saw the two of us, and I could see from where we stood how unfocused her eyes were. "Henry? Henry, is that you?"

The look of hope on her face was painful to see. I'd been through this situation enough times before to know that she thought Quinten was her late husband. Every time she called him Henry, Quinten's mood turned dark and he tended to stop talking.

Her gaze flicked over to me and I tried not to squirm as she took her time looking me over, obviously not recognizing me. It didn't matter that I'd played with Quinten in this house almost everyday since I'd been in diapers. To her, I was just another stranger intruding in her home.

"Henry! Henry, who is this woman and what is she doing in our house?" She asked.

Her voice was old and shaky. It sounded like the voice of someone who didn't know where they belonged in life. I couldn't imagine having to live day to day, never knowing who my family and friends were.

Never knowing who I was.

"Mrs. Taylor, you know her. She's a friend of your grandson's," the nurse said patiently.

Quinten looked to be in pain, and I tugged on his arm. "Come on Quinten."

"I don't wanna just leave her here. She doesn't like being alone."

"The nurse is going to give her a bath and then help her get dressed for the day. You aren't needed for either of those things."

He nodded, and looked over to where the nurse was standing. I noticed his eyes were a few inches higher than they should be, but didn't say anything. "We'll probably be back a little after noon."

The nurse nodded. "Your grandmother will probably be down for a nap right about then."

Quinten sighed and followed me out to my car. I couldn't tell if he was happy or not about leaving. He was upset about his grandma, about his money situation, and about going to the mall. I felt bad because today was just not his day.