Imaginary Grace

  Imaginary Grace

  A Novel by:

  Anne Holster

  Copyright © 2015 by Anne Holster

  Imaginary Grace

  Published and printed in the United States of America by AMH Transcription.

  All rights reserved. Under International Copyright Law, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means–electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopy), recording, or otherwise–without the written permission from the publisher.

  Cover design and layout by Rick Chappell.

  ISBN-13: 978-0692418628

  ISBN-10: 0692418628

  Create Space

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All trademarked names are honored by capitalization and no infringement is intended.

  This book is dedicated to

  Tom and Jen,

  my two biggest cheerleaders!

  Prologue

  I froze in place, straining to eavesdrop on the conversation being held in the other room. I didn’t dare breathe for fear he would realize I was there. My head was spinning, and I heard blood pumping loudly in my head. I felt so sick to my stomach that I thought I might actually pass out, so I forced myself to inhale slowly. I had to get out of there before he found me.

  I backed up from the door and slowly inched myself around the bed. Then I moved towards the window I’d climbed through. Reaching it, I turned and with shaking hands slid it up as quickly as I could. I hoisted myself up and swung my legs through the opening.

  As I sat on the weather-beaten wooden sill, the realization of what I’d heard hit me. Hold it together, I thought as I felt tears begin to prick the backs of my eyes. Just concentrate on getting out.

  Gripping the edge of the sill with both hands, I carefully set my feet on the grass below. I reached up and slowly closed the window behind me, trying not to make a sound. Then I crept backwards toward the driveway at the side of the house, still wary that I might be discovered. Once my feet hit the gravel of the driveway, I turned and ran to the edge of the path that led through the woods. That’s where I stayed, breathing heavily, for several moments.

  Looking back toward the house, I saw the bedroom light turn on, then him moving about the room. Without thinking I crouched down, even though I knew he couldn’t see me in the darkness. He pulled his sweaty t-shirt off over his head and started sifting through his drawers for a clean one. He didn’t put it on right away, just held it in his hand as he wandered over to the window and absently looked out.

  I took in the solidly built shoulders, the well-defined chest and biceps and the chiseled abs – he was sheer perfection in every way, and I despised myself for still thinking it. I wanted to hate him. The tears began to slowly escape so I turned and began to make my way down the path illuminated only by the light of the full moon. At the end of the path I took off running like I’d never run before.

  Once the tears started flowing, there was no stopping them. How could I have let this happen? How could I have been so stupid?

  By the time I reached my dorm, I was nearly blinded by the tears. I fumbled with the key a few times before finally getting it into the lock. Once inside, I bounded up the stairs and threw open the door to my dorm room, closing it quickly behind me. Breathing heavily, I leaned my back against the door and slowly slid myself down until I was sitting on the floor. Then I pulled my knees to my chest and let the sobs overtake me.

  When I was finally able to catch my breath, I stood up and threw my jean jacket to the floor, then peeled off what had become my favorite vintage pink tie dye t-shirt before trading my skinny jeans for blue plaid flannels. As I reached over and opened the closet door, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess and my face was streaked with black—tears mixed with the last of my mascara.

  Disgusted, I turned away, then knelt down and began rummaging around the floor of the closet until I found the lone hoodie that I had hidden away in the back of the closet all those months ago. I held it up to my face and sobbed uncontrollably into it. When my tears began to slow, I wiped my face with the sweatshirt, breathing in the scent of what seemed like another lifetime; then I slowly got up, slipped it over my head and half-stumbled to my bed.

  My eyes were just starting to close when my cell began to ring. I knew who it was, so I sluggishly reached over to turn it off; then, eager for sleep to come, I slowly dragged the covers up over my head.

  Chapter 1

  Grace

  When I woke up that Sunday morning, the sun was shining brighter than I’d ever seen it. Then again, it could have just been my mood that made it seem that way, I thought as I jumped out of bed and went over to look out the window.

  My dog Troo (short for Trooper) was sniffing around the backyard. When I tapped on the glass she looked up and cocked her head to one side, piercing me with her crystal blue eyes. My siblings and I all had brown eyes, and we’d often joked that Troo had gotten the good genes.

  I was really going to miss her when I was gone. Before I stepped away, I shifted my gaze from the blue of Troo’s eyes to the sparkling blue water of our pool. Now that was something I was really going to miss. When my family had moved into the house many years back there had been a decrepit, cracked barely useable in-ground pool in the backyard – a real eyesore. The realtor had assumed that whoever bought the house would end up just filling it in, but not my father. He saw the potential.

  Still, the pool stayed that way for a few years until Dad finally put it up for a vote: did we repair the pool, or did we fill it in and forget about it? Even though it meant giving up vacations for a few years, it was unanimous. We’d all agreed to restore the pool to its once-pristine condition. The work was done in stages and seemed to take forever, but once it was finished, our pool was the envy of the neighborhood—and the go-to spot during the humid Jersey summers. My dad even built a little pool house next to it, which was great when we had company.

  When I turned from the window, I noticed the faint scent of homemade pancakes making its way up to my room, followed by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I’d always loved the smell of coffee in the morning, which was kind of weird, considering I hated the taste of it.

  It was time to get ready. I quickly dressed in shorts and a tank, then pulled my long brown hair in a ponytail. As I checked my appearance in the mirror, I reminded myself to tone down my bubbly mood before heading downstairs. Today would be hard enough on my parents—taking their firstborn to college—and I didn’t want them to think I was happy about leaving them. I loved my parents, and we had always gotten along great, but, truth be told, I couldn’t wait to get out on my own.

  I went downstairs to find my mom at the stove, pouring the last of the batter into the pan. Dad was sitting at the table, sipping his cup o’ joe and reading the morning paper.

  The kitchen radio was tuned to the classic rock station and playing quietly in the background, the same as every morning. As soon as my dad saw me approach, our morning ritual of “guess the artist” began. My dad loved his classic rock, and as far back as I could remember he’d test us on the artist whenever we were near a radio.

  When I sat down at the kitchen table, he looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, no words necessary. “Rolling Stones,” I said, and smiled at Mom as she placed the plate of pancakes on the table. She shook her head and turned back to the stove.

  He high-fived me. “Atta girl, Gracie!” He thought for a minute. “Y
ou know, Grace, I can’t even remember the last time you were stumped.”

  “Me either,” I agreed as I reached for some pancakes. It was the truth, it was nearly impossible to stump me. I could guess the title and artist of just about any song, from Aerosmith right on through to Zeppelin.

  “One day all this music trivia is going to come in handy,” he said, smiling as he went back to reading the paper.

  “Yeah, like when I’m on quiz show or something, right?” I laughed, but the truth was that I actually loved the music, even though I’d never admit it to him. My friends were always listening to Top 40 and when I was with them, I’d pretend that I liked it too, but when I was alone in my room or driving around in my car, I’d take the Stones or Van Halen any day.

  “Eat up, Lovey,” Mom said, “It’s your last Sunday breakfast for a while.” Lovey! I couldn’t believe she was still calling me that. Jeez, I’d be turning eighteen in a few weeks, wasn’t it time to drop the baby names? Clearly Mom didn’t think so, she’d probably still be calling me Lovey when I was forty and had kids of my own.

  All right, who was I kidding? The name gave me the warm and fuzzies, but she didn’t have to know that.

  “Mom, I told you, please stop calling me that; I’m almost officially an adult.”

  “Oh, I’ll call you anything I want when you’re in my house,” Mom said, but she was grinning. Yep, if there was a parents lottery, I’d definitely hit the jackpot.

  After two helpings of pancakes I was back in my room, packing the last of my things. This is really it, I thought as I looked around my small, neat-as-a-pin and now nearly empty bedroom. Just before I closed up the last box, I reached for the picture of my brother and sister on my nightstand and tossed it in.

  I hesitated for a moment, then took the picture back out. Slowly brushing my fingers over the glass of the frame, I decided I might actually miss them too – not as much as Troo, but still…

  Jagger and Ryder, the twins. They would be starting high school in the fall and couldn’t be more psyched about it. I, on the other hand, was glad that was over. I’d never understood people who looked back on high school and proclaimed it the best years of their lives.

  Then again, I had never been what you’d call Miss Popularity. Just then I looked up, staring at my reflection in my dresser mirror. My mom always said I was beautiful – inside and out, but you know, all moms have to say that about their daughters; I think it even says that in the mom handbook. Now, as I studied myself in my dresser mirror, I just couldn’t see it. All I saw looking back at me was averageness.

  I had brown wavy hair that often looked like a tangled mess, especially during the humid summer months. It was long – really long; practically down to my waist. Mom was always on my case about cutting it, but that was never going to happen. In my opinion, the length of my hair was my only good feature. I mean, anyone could have short hair, but it took time and patience to keep a mane like mine. I had overly large brown eyes that I preferred to call “expressive” - it just sounded better. My teeth were nice and straight, thanks to years of orthodontics. I wasn’t little and cute or tall and slender. I was extremely skinny, but not in a sexy supermodel sort of way.

  I liked to hide my boyish frame under an array of large hoodies that I had in my closet. Unlike my sister who always dressed to the nines, I had very little fashion sense and spending the last four years in a private school uniform certainly hadn’t helped the situation. Unlike me, my sister and brother were going to the local public high school – another thing they were psyched about.

  Going to private school had never been part of the master plan; it had always been assumed that after graduating middle school I would attend the local high school with the majority of my classmates. Then, at the beginning of that summer there was a series of what I liked to refer to as “youthful indiscretions combined with a string of unfortunate misunderstandings.”

  Being that I was the oldest, my parents kind of overreacted; at least that was my opinion. They eventually realized that and offered to let me switch, but by then I had made some friends and I just decided to stay at Oak Valley Prep.

  Jagger and Ryder were nothing like me. They were both popular and beautiful and I attributed that to what I liked to call the name game. In order to be popular you had to have a cool name, and Grace just didn’t cut it. I may have hit the jackpot in the parents lottery, but I had definitely bottomed out in the name department. I had been named after my grandmother, and once my parents had fulfilled that obligation, they were free to choose whatever names they wanted for my siblings.

  Taking one last look around my room, I picked up the remaining box and headed down the stairs. Troo was waiting for me at the bottom, and I bent down to kiss her head before stepping out the front door.

  My parents were in the car already, along with the twins, who were thrilled to be coming along for the four-hour ride from our home in northern New Jersey to Maryland. It had been as far as I was allowed to go and still be a “reasonable train ride away”, which was Mom’s one rule. If it hadn’t been for that restriction, I would have been in Florida or Texas – someplace warm – but I didn’t argue for fear that she’d change her mind and make me stay local.

  I climbed into the backseat and, as usual, was forced to sit in the middle. The plan was to drop me off at my dorm, then check into the local hotel. They’d take me out to breakfast in the morning before heading home.

  All the way down, I had to listen to Ryder chatter on about yet another boyfriend.

  Even though I’d heard dozens of my younger sister’s boyfriend stories before, I felt the same humiliation. I hadn’t had an actual boyfriend since my doomed love affair with Ian Gallager in the eighth grade. We had dated for about two months that spring, and he had even given me a ring that he made out of a paperclip. To me, that was a huge deal, but then out of the blue he sent me a text message saying that he was breaking up with me. He even had the nerve to ask for the paperclip ring back!

  He didn’t give me a reason, but it wasn’t long before the reason became apparent. It was less than three days later that I saw him squiring Fiona Miller around the school courtyard after lunch, as if she was some sort of big prize or something. Okay, so maybe she looked better in a sweater than I did, but so what? Was that such a big deal?

  I really didn’t care all the much about Ian; what really bothered me was my general lack of success with the dating scene. It was a sorry state of affairs when, at the age of nearly eighteen, the only ex-boyfriend you could refer to was one from the eighth grade.

  Of course I’d been on a few random dates – although I’m not even sure you could call them dates – and I‘d played a few games like spin-the-bottle (usually with disastrous results)--but nothing ever seemed to pan out with anyone. Oh, and there was also that little episode with Darren Chesney that I now referred to as the “senior prom fiasco”, but as the sting of that one was still pretty fresh in mind, I tried not to dwell on it.

  Four hours of endless chatter later, we arrived at what would be my home for the next four years. After unpacking and a quick tour around the campus, I feigned exhaustion and sent my family on their way. They would be returning bright and early the next morning for my farewell breakfast, but by ten o’clock they’d be headed home and I’d be free as a bird.

  I glanced around the dorm room and decided that it was actually a pretty decent size. It had two small twin beds, and my roommate and I would each have our own dresser. The closet was fairly large as well, and we had our own bathroom with a shower, which was one of my deal-breakers when I was researching schools.

  I wasn’t about to use a communal bathroom a hallway away from my room. But without a doubt, the best part of our room was the large picture window that overlooked the beautiful courtyard below. As I looked out the window I thought about how nice it was going to be to jog around it, at least while the weather was still nice.
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  After I had put everything in place, and my clothes were put away in the drawers and on my side of the closet, I decided to explore the campus for a while, taking a dry run to all the buildings where I’d have classes.

  I couldn’t wait for Beth, my roommate, to arrive. We had met at freshman orientation and hit it off right away. We were somewhat similar in personality, although I did sense that she’d be a bit more adventurous than me. This wasn’t surprising - pretty much everyone was more adventurous than me. Anyway, I figured she’d be a good influence.

  “Grace!”

  I turned at the sound of the raspy voice to find Beth standing in the doorway, bags in hand. She dropped them and ran over to hug me. She was a few inches shorter than me, with a kind of roundish face. Her cute button nose was sprinkled with freckles that, along with her short cropped blonde hair and green eyes, blended perfectly with her fair skin.

  Laughing, I returned the hug. Even though I barely knew her, I was sure Beth and I would have a blast together.

  ©

  “Let’s get a move on, Grace, class starts in twenty minutes!” Beth yelled hoarsely a few mornings later. She always sounded like she had a cold.

  “Okay, okay, I’m just about ready,” I said as I slipped my blue Penn State hoodie over my head and grabbed my books.

  “Grace, don’t you think it’s a bit warm for a sweatshirt?” she asked, looking amused.

  “It’s called air conditioning, Beth, and I need to be prepared if it’s cranked up in the classrooms. If I’m cold I won’t be able to concentrate.”

  “Whatever,” she said, “let’s just get moving.”

  We both had nine a.m. classes – chemistry for Beth and Western Civ for me - and the buildings were clear across campus from one another. Then we’d meet up in the cafeteria for an early lunch and to compare notes on our first college class!

  The next few days were pretty much the same. We met up whenever our schedules allowed, and were usually both back at the dorm by four or five o’clock. We ate, did homework and then, if time allowed, we went exploring. We knew every inch of the campus by the end of the week.