Chapter Seven

The day after dinner with the Miller's dawned, and to say the atmosphere in the house was interesting would be an understatement. Things proceeded as normal, to an extent. Gracie woke up last, as always, greeted by her father with the usual grunt as she came downstairs. Her mother, who usually took pleasure in reminding Gracie that it was a "brand new day, needing a brand new you!" had nothing to say, which Gracie took satisfaction in.

Last night must have been sufficient evidence of a new Gracie, or at least hinted at what a new Gracie would look like. Gracie left the house before her parents, as always, getting the bus to uni, a nice anticipation replacing the usual dread. This might actually be enjoyable.

Gracie entered the computer lab, the familiar scent of the room carried over to her by the barely functional air conditioning unit. She took off her hoodie, a red Adidas zipper hoodie, and placed it over the chair as she always did. Gracie was, mostly, a person of habit, of routine. She sat at the same place in the computer lab, every time, without fail. If someone else was in her spot, Gracie would find somewhere else, but it wasn't the same. Her spot was at the idea point in the room, in the middle of the row of computers, giving her a clear view of the door, and through the glass pane in the middle of the door, what lay beyond as well. Gracie had evenly worked out the perfect distance of her chair from the screen, in the three months she had been at the university. It was a little closer than safety regulations, but according to her last vision check-up, two weeks earlier, her vision was still 20/20. Gracie sat in the chair, and pulled herself forward, frowning when she felt an unfamiliar surface touch her left knee.

What Gracie had expected to feel was the solid, if not a little cheap, texture of the wood, brush against the edge of her kneecap. Gracie was the type of person to wear shorts right into November, temperature permitting. Instead, she was greeted by the thin feel of paper, as well as a faint rustling noise no one else seemed to notice. Gracie raised her knee again, making sure her mind had not progressed onto sensory hallucinations as well as auditory. It hadn't. She felt the paper touch her legs again. Gracie felt underneath the table, felt coarse, thin feel of previously scrunched up paper in her hand, and tore it away from the desk. The paper had been folded in half, with a capital G written on one side. Gracie restored the paper to normal-as normal as it could be, obviously having been crumpled up and smoothed out many times. On the inside, there was a message.

"Curly hair and lost eyes, eyes that look too sad, in need of surprise. Leave a message, a line or two. I'll be here within the day, to reply to you."

Gracie stared at the paper for a moment, and then her mind began to race. She had curly hair. Her eyes did look lost, according to one of her classmates. She could respond, could leave a message. She wouldn't be pursuing anyone. Someone was pursuing her. And so she did, leaving a message for the mystery person.

Someone wanted her, again. A genuine, toothy smile, the one Alex had loved, filled Gracie's face.

The world was lighter, that afternoon, as she got the bus home. Not everything seemed like a challenge, not everyone was out to get her. Gracie, for the first time in a year, felt valued. She wasn't simply some curly-haired stranger, someone seen and then forgotten. Someone had taken the time to write her a message, someone had taken the time to learn her habits, and plan around them. Gracie had written the message down on her phone, and on the ride home, she opened her Notes app and closed it several times, reading and reading, until the words had no meaning, and Gracie simply soaked in the love they carried, the fresh, thin, vital love, new love. A stranger might have, at one point on that journey, seen a curly-haired teenager hugging a phone to her chest, smile wide, eyes closed, staying like that for a good ten minutes.

They might have seen a girl taking a step towards peace, and they might have seen a girl healing.