FicWad

My grandma was one tough old bird. You kind of had to be to put up with me as a kid and not go nuts. I’ve seen her go out to work on her damn garden when she had a fever of a hundred and two, seen her stay up till five in the morning taking care of me when I had a fever of a hundred and two, seen her lift stuff heavier than I am (okay maybe that’s not so special), and once, when Jamie’s parents over and they thought we were asleep, she drank his dad under the table. (Which is saying something, ’cause even though you’re not supposed to drink in Kohlingen Jamie’s dad had more a day than most guys did in a week.)

Still, even Grandma could get knocked down flat on her ass once in awhile. She can still go around doing her shit when she’s sick, but if it’s a cough she’s just got to lay down. She’s never had good lungs - always told me she smoked before I was born when she was living in Narshe (you’re not supposed to smoke in Kohlingen either), and she said it was the stupidest thing she ever did, and if she ever caught me doing it she’d kill me and bring me back to kill me again as many times as it took to get it though my thick skull what a dumb thing it was to do. Anyway, this one time Grandma got sick, so she was all laid out on the couch trying not to hack up a lung and I had to eat dinner at Jamie’s for awhile and play around the house so I could get her water or somethin’ if she needed it. It wasn’t too bad, just kinda boring - mostly she just needed to take her damn medicine on time and sleep.

Well, nobody liked me in Kohlingen ’cause I’m the village bastard, but they sure liked my grandma. I gotta say, truthfully, here, that I have never met a finer lady in all my life - so I can’t really blame ’em. Whenever she got in one of her coughing spells, they all sent cake and cookies and all that stuff you do in small towns. Kind of annoying - everybody knows everybody’s business and so everybody decided since Grandma was sick they were gonna send an entire bakery to our house (but they wouldn’t send anything for real dinner food, so I still couldn’t eat at my own damn table - like I said, they didn’t like me). I guess they were just bored and itching for something to do. Can’t say I blame ’em on that, either.

I was working a jigsaw with Jamie in the kitchen listening to Grandma choke when somebody knocked on our door for about the billionth time in the past ten minutes. We flipped a jigsaw piece (we didn’t have a coin), and it landed picture-side up, so I had to answer it.

“Coming, coming,” I groused, getting to my feet. “Shut up,” I added to Jamie. He was busy laughing at me (it was my third loss in a row).

So I opened up the door, all ready to look up at this adult who was taller than me but looked down for another reason instead, but there wasn’t one there.

No, I got it worse than Jamie.

I got a girl.

I got the girl, as a matter of fact.

And Jamie always hated me for that.

I’d already been looking up, so I had to look down to see her. I remember - because I remember everything - scowling at her and folding my arms. Not really noticing that first time - she had dark hair, dark eyes, and skin that’d burn and never tan. She wore her hair long and loose, parted in the middle, and carried a basket in one hand.

Food.

“Hi,” I said cautiously.

“Hi,” she told me cheerfully. “I’m Rachel Harcourt. You’re Locke, right?”

“...right.” I decided we could skip all this bullshit and nodded to the basket. “Is that for Grandma?”

“Locke Cole!”

I jumped and looked behind me - Grandma was awake, I guess - she’d been listening from the living room.

“Yes ma’am?” I only said ma’am to her - because I wasn’t man enough not to.

“Don’t be so blunt. Show - ” She burst into a fit of coughing, and I waited. “Show some respect for that young lady.”

“Yes ma’am.” I grimaced. Rachel saw it and sighed, free hand coming up to rest on her hip.

“We heard Mrs. Cole was sick,” she said, “so - my mother asked me to bring this to your house.” She held out the basket. I took it from her without looking inside.

“Uh...thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “We hope you enjoy it.” She smiled, then, and I knew it - she was laughing over something, even if it was just on the inside. “Even my father does, but he doesn’t like you very much.”

“You can tell him I don’t like him either,” I shot back, and she frowned again. “Anyway,” I rushed on, “I’m super-busy taking care of Grandma, so I gotta go.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Bye.”

“Bye.” I closed the door, shifted my weight to one foot, tried not to feel too guilty. Then I yanked the door back open. She was still standing there! “Thanks,” I said again, guardedly. “For the food.”

“You’re welcome.” She laughed, now, not the kind of giggle she used when she caught me treasure hunting. I frowned at her and shut the door again.

“I hope you were polite,” Grandma told me as I walked in the living room. She was still having coughing spells, so I got her some water. “It was very nice of the Harcourts to show hospitality, Locke.”

“Because we totally need more cookies,” I muttered, moving from the living room to the kitchen, where Jamie was. I set the basket on the counter. “Or cake. Or whatever the heck it is.”

“Aw, open it up,” Jamie said, looking up from our puzzle. “I’m hungry.”

“Whatever.” I yanked back the white cloth covering up the basket and stopped dead where I was.

“Well?” Jamie asked.

“It’s, uh...actual dinner.” Two plates of it - one for Grandma, and then one for me.

“So the first person to bring you real food is a girl?” Jamie cracked up. “Nice.”

“She’s not a grown-up, that’s all,” I muttered. Of course that was it. What else could it be? I hated girls!

But as it turned out, Rachel Harcourt was the first ever girl that I did not hate.