His mother was the only one he told the truth to. He didn't think that was breaking the spirit of the agreement. She didn't ask how the fight went. He didn't volunteer.Paul looked like a raccoon Monday morning. The emergency room doctor had straightened his nose. The swelling over his left eye had gone down. The same doctor had taped George's broken ribs before Paul drove George back to his car. Paul's story was he ran into a door. George's was that he fell down the stairs in his house. They both stuck to their stories. The physician knew they were lying but what could he do. No one at school believed them either.Although he didn't have the words to express it, George looked at the whole thing as some sort of male bonding experience. Paul wanted nothing to do with George James. The kid was a sick-o. "Don't trust anyone with two first names."He didn't know what to expect from Ann on Monday. He was at their usual place in front of the office when her dad dropped her off. They looked at. We'll see you in the morning."In your bedroom, you begin to pack a small suitcase with a few casual clothes, a few dresses, along with a few beauty items and knickknacks. Catching your reflection in the mirror, you pause and look over yourself. "This is the last time I'll see myself in this" you think, staring at it and thinking about how long you've been looking into the same mirror over the years, growing up into what you see in front of you: pretty blonde hair down past your shoulders a bit, and, as much as you hate to admit it, a form that is very appealing; your grandparents made sure you kept healthy, and your lithe figure shows it. You smile and pick up a "happy 18th birthday" card that is only a few weeks old, running your fingers over it before setting it back down, and finally going to bed. You've got a big day ahead of yourself, try and get some rest she thinks to herself, finally closing her eyes and sleeping. You wake up and rub your eyes. Strange. Your grandparents.
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