When Hailey and Grant jogged inside after their run, they found Nora and Jack talking in the kitchen.
“You have twenty minutes,” Jack smiled as he pointed at the clock. “I’ve got to go…please don’t be late for school.”
Thirty minutes later, after fighting over the bathroom and arguing over something trivial, Hailey and Grant walked out of their rooms at the same time. Hailey was wearing hip huggers and a white tank top; her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, and Grant realized that it was the first time he had ever seen her with her hair down.
Hailey stared at Grant as he stood in front of her, his shirt in his hand, unable to take his eyes off of her. “What are you looking at?” she gulped.
Jessica stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway, belting out a spot-on rendition of the Reba McIntyre classic Fancy. The sight of her sister brought the song to an abrupt end. “Did you blow-dry your hair?” she asked, eyeing Hailey curiously.
Hailey gave her sister a sideways smirk. “The sound of the hairdryer drowned out the Faith Hill impersonation that was getting stuck in my head.”
Jessica and Grant grinned at each other, both recalling the scene the night before when Grant had walked into the living room and caught Jessica alone, standing on couch in her pajamas, rocking out into a hairbrush and head banging to a Gwen Stefani song, her chestnut brown hair full, silky and thrashing around like the girl’s in the Herbal Essence commercial. Grant had stood for a long moment watching her, impressed by the big voice that came out of such a little body. Jessica, who had once, to her father’s horror, dreamed of being a roommate in the Real World house, now dreamed, instead, of competing as a contestant on the Fox hit American Idol. Even if she had been momentarily mortified when Grant caught her putting on a passionate, private concert for an empty room of adoring fans, her tune had changed when he winked at her, told her she sounded awesome and walked on toward the kitchen as though it had never happened.
“Good morning, Rockstar,” Grant offered, holding up his hand.
“You just wait,” Jessica declared as she high-fived him, holding on to his hand for a second before letting go. “One day you’re gonna see me standing on a stage in Hollywood, and Randy Jackson is going to declare me his dawg; Paula is going to be moved to tears and tell me how beautiful I look, then Simon Cowell is going to cap it off by declaring mine the performance of the night…no, of the season…no, in the history of the show!”
“Careful,” Hailey warned. “Your ego is beginning to rival his.”
Jessica laughed. “You would vote for me, wouldn’t you, Grant?”
Hailey took a step back as she noted the ease with which her sister moved into the arms of the shirtless stranger. She could feel the air seeping from her lungs as she stood like a spectator on the sidelines while Grant and Jessica danced close. Jessica sang a sultry version of Mama He’s Crazy as the two of them moved together, living in the moment, acting out the lyrics of the song. Hailey could not believe she was having to consciously fight the urge to claw the stars out of Jessica’s eyes. What did she care if her sister danced with Grant? They were just playing around, right? What did she care if they moved so well together that they looked as though this wasn’t their first trip onto the dance floor? What did she care if Grant’s hands were plastered an inch above her sister’s perfectly rounded posterior?
“Hurry, Jess!” Emily called from the living room, “I can’t be late for school on my first day!”
Jessica stopped singing, moved away from Grant, straightened her shirt with her hands and skipped off, ready for the school day. “Later, y’all!” she smiled.
Hailey stared at Grant, a tiny tinge of something akin to jealousy twinkling from her eyes. “The school does have a dress code. Perhaps you could be troubled to find a shirt to cover the chest you’re so fond of putting on display.”
Grant laughed, pulling on the white t-shirt that had been hanging from his pocket as he retreated to his room, and, to his surprise, Hailey followed him. “Can I help you?” he grinned as he pulled two shirts out of the suitcase he had yet to unpack.
“Sorry, I guess that at some point during the last eighteen years I got used to this being my room,” Hailey rolled her eyes, covering her own embarrassment. “I was just curious to see what you’ve done with the place.”
Grant gestured toward the quilt on the bed made up of country blue, khaki and rose colored squares. “I don’t think this thing suits me, but it’s warm.” He pulled a Tar Heels t-shirt over his head, and Hailey frowned.
“Are you really going to wear that on your first day?” she asked.
“No?” Grant asked, eyeing his shirt.
“No,” Hailey shook her head. She rifled through the clothes strewn about the floor. She tried not to let on when she noticed the t-shirt that all campers had received on their last day of basketball camp that summer. She tossed aside a black t-shirt that had something scrawled across the chest in a language she couldn’t make out. Finally settling on a slightly wrinkled, blue, button-down shirt, she tossed it toward Grant. He buttoned it up over his t-shirt and held out his arm, inaudibly asking Hailey to roll up his sleeves.
“Grant!” Nora called from the kitchen as she watched Emily and Jessica pull away. “Please don’t be late for school on your first day!”
Hailey reached into her pocket and twirled the keys to her truck around her finger. “See you there,” she smiled.
“Oh, come-on, Hailey!” Grant exclaimed.
Hailey ran for the door, laughing as Grant chased after her. He threw open the passenger’s door of her rundown, rusted, sky-blue, 1973 Chevrolet pickup truck and slid onto a seat with ripped interior and protruding, crumbled yellow foam. There was a crack down the center of the front windshield, and there was no side mirror on the passenger’s side. These indications, coupled with the massive dent across the truck’s front end, led Grant to believe that these issues might be indicative of Hailey’s driving ability, so he reached for his seatbelt, only to find that it was more decorative than functional.
“It ain’t a prize or anything,” Hailey shrugged, “but it’ll get us there and back and the radio still works.”
Grant seemed unsure when Hailey pulled to a stop along the road out front of a group of three boys walking along the roadside. All three middle-school-aged boys were wearing overalls and carrying their books in their hands. One chewed on a long strand of hay and another had a curious streak of dirt running down his cheek. Hailey manually rolled down her window and waved them over.
“Thanks, Hailey,” a freckled faced boy grinned as he and his two pals climbed into the back of the truck. “We had some cows get out this mornin’, and Jimmy Ray and Ricky Lee were kind enough to help me and daddy herd ‘em back in.”
Grant noticed the way one of the boys stared at him through the sheet of glass that separated them, as though he had never in his life seen someone he did not immediately recognize.
“What’s your middle name?” Grant asked, turning back to Hailey as they took off again.
“Jane. Why?” Hailey replied. “What’s yours?”
“I don’t have one,” Grant shook his head.
“Liar,” Hailey laughed. “What is it? Something awful and embarrassing?”
“Nope,” Grant shrugged. “I really don’t have one. A rarity in this town I know, but check the birth certificate. In fact, I’ve often considered dropping Cohen and becoming one of those one named wonders like Madonna or Prince or Cher.”
“Yeah,” Hailey mused, “Grant pretty much says it all.”
Grant wasn’t sure exactly what she meant by that, but he figured it couldn’t be all bad since she had managed to say it with a smile.
Hailey and Grant arrived at school after homeroom, and, as he followed Hailey down the hall, Grant made observations about his new classmates. He glanced down at his own wardrobe, wondering if there was an unwritten rule that suggested something in a plaid flannel was the way to go.
“Our first class is History with Mrs. Simmons,” Hailey said. “That’s her at the end of the hall.”
Grant stared at the woman who was the walking embodiment of a schoolmarm from a bad music video. She had a beehive hairdo, wore a plaid dress with a collar lined in lace and wore glasses with lenses that looked like the bottoms of two, glass, Faygo bottles.
