Turning Grace (The Turning Series, Book 1)

by J.Q. Davis

  Chapter 6

  The Beef

  After a pre-dinner snack of chicken pot pie, the main course soon followed. Mom and I sat silently, for the most part, at the dinner table. With a belly full of meatloaf, salad, mashed potatoes, bacon-wrapped asparagus, cranberry sauce, and corned beef hash, I headed upstairs to get some homework done. Mom informed me that Mrs. Turner was going to allow me to retake the test on Monday. When I opened my textbook to begin studying, I realized it was Friday and I had all weekend to study up. Silly me.

  I plopped on the bed and booted up my laptop. It was time to be nosey. I was aware that it was Friday night, and being home poking around on Facebook was not exactly something a teenager should be doing. The only person I really wanted to hang out with was Phoebe, but of course, she was too busy trying to woo Eric.

  As soon as I logged into my profile, there was a message in my inbox. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be Tristen? Was he worried about me? I didn’t know Tristen as well as I was hoping to get to know him just yet, but I was sure that he was as compassionate as they come. I mean, he skipped school to accompany his girlfriend to the doctor. I could just see her pouting to get what she wanted. Puppy dog eyes, bottom lip glowering more and more as she looked at him, sulking just enough for him to finally give in. Although, I still wondered what the appointment was for. A case of something really embarrassing, I hoped.

  I clicked on the inbox as I my heart skipped several beats. A message from…Sonny? Oh, this should be good.

  There was a link to a picture. I opened the link, curiosity coursing through me.

  It loaded…and low and behold, a picture of her and Tristen, kissing. Under the picture, a caption read:

  You will never have this. XOXO, Sonny.

  I melted into my headboard and stared at the picture. I’ve got to say, it was a sweet photo. They were facing each other. Her hair was flowy and beautiful. Her ruby lips were puckered and his lips were touching hers. He was smiling a bit. It was charming, and although it hurt to see him seem really happy, I pictured it was me.

  So this was how she wanted to play the game. Our little rendezvous in the nurse’s office was frightening to say the least, simply because I was worried for my safety, but it also showed just how insecure she was about their relationship. If she didn’t feel threatened by me, why would she have wasted her time anyway? She reassured me during that meeting that she was ready to fight a war, and I was ready to win it. I may be a girl with simple tastes who played video games and enjoyed watching B-rated slasher movies rather than plotting revenges on innocent people, but this was a special circumstance. Sonny was not so innocent, and it was time to think of something to prove to her that it will be a tough battle. Besides, I had better hair than she did.

  Right as I was about to shut down my computer, an instant message pinged. It was Tristen.

  Tristen Miles: Hi.

  Grace Watkins: Hey.

  Tristen Miles: How are you feeling? I was worried about you.

  My heart jumped. He was worried.

  Grace Watkins: Much better.

  Tristen Miles: Good.

  Okay. Small talk. I could do this.

  Grace Watkins: Did you do well on your test?

  Tristen Miles: I did better than that. I am pretty sure I aced it, thanks to you :)

  Grace Watkins: Me…not so much. Mrs. Turner is letting me retake it, though.

  Tristen Miles: Well I would hope so! If not, I would have to have a talk with her.

  Standing up for me…I liked it.

  Grace Watkins: Lol! So, did I miss much from the rest of the day?

  Tristen Miles: Not really. After I carried you to the nurse’s office, I wanted to stay but I had to meet up with Coach.

  He what!?! I couldn’t breathe. He carried me to the office? I stared at his words, double checking to see if I read them correctly.

  Tristen Miles: Grace?

  Grace Watkins: Sorry. So, you carried me?

  Tristen Miles: Well, yeah. As soon as you fell, I ran over to you. I was worried you’d hit your head. Mrs. Turner and everyone else were kind of shocked that you had just passed out in front of the class and I didn’t want you just lying there. I didn’t know what was wrong.

  Embarrassment washed over me.

  Grace Watkins: Oh…I just didn’t eat enough this morning.

  Tristen Miles: Well, thank God it wasn’t anything more serious. With your mom’s cooking skills, I’m sure you were very satisfied when you got home.

  More than he knew. My stomach growled.

  Grace Watkins: I’m sure if Sonny saw you carrying me, she would not have been happy.

  Ugh…why did I just type that?

  Tristen Miles: She did see us actually. Everyone did. The bell had just rung.

  Great. Everyone saw. And so did Sonny. That must have been what pushed her to confront me. This was my chance.

  Grace Watkins: So… have you thought more about Halloween? I mentioned it to Phoebe and she said it would be cool for all of us to hang out. She wants to bring Eric too.

  Tristen Miles: A double date?

  Oh God. Coming on too strong, too soon. Not good.

  Grace Watkins: Um…well…it wouldn’t be a double date…I mean, it would just be friends…hanging out.

  Tristen Miles: Well, count me in.

  Wow, that was easier than I thought. My smile could not have gotten any wider. But it faded quickly when I felt an ache in my belly. Oh, please not now.

  Grace Watkins: Awesome. I’ll let Phoebe know.

  Tristen Miles: Cool. Well, I better get going. I have to go meet up with the team and kick some ass in bowling.

  Grace Watkins: Okay. Have fun.

  Tristen Miles: Thanks. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Grace. I was really worried about you.

  Grace Watkins: Well I’m just sorry you had to carry my dead weight across campus.

  Tristen Miles: Lol! Trust me, I was okay with that. See ya.

  I was too busy trying to find a breath to answer him back. My chest caved in and before I could respond, he was offline. He took care of me, he was worried about me, and he didn’t mind carrying me? I didn’t want to make quick assumptions, simply because I truly was taking what my mother said about being let down into consideration, but I was pretty positive that he was showing me some interest. I knew not giving up would pay off. Although making an ass out of myself in front of the whole class was not done intentionally, it certainly brought me up a few points.

  A stabbing pain deep in my belly made me hunch over. I grabbed my stomach and grimaced. I needed food. I rushed downstairs as fast as I could and headed towards the kitchen. I reached into the fridge and began pulling out leftovers. Suddenly, I turned my nose up to the air…something caught my attention. A different smell. A smell that seemed familiar, but I wasn’t quite sure.

  It was pungent…and appealing. Iron maybe? Raw. Like raw meat. That was it.

  I ignored the smell, continuing on with my quest to satisfy my hungry stomach. However, the smell of raw meat overpowered everything. My mouth was watering, and I wasn’t sure if it was the smell of the leftovers or the raw smell of meat.

  I uncovered the dishes and dug in. My mother’s food was so delicious, but I couldn’t stop thinking about raw meat. Where was it coming from, anyway?

  With a hunk of meatloaf in hand, I began sniffing around the kitchen, trying to pick up the raw meat scent. I stepped into the living room for moment, just to make sure it wasn’t radiating out of there, but it definitely smelled stronger in the kitchen. I searched around with my nose. Maybe Mom dropped a piece somewhere while she was cooking.

  I sniffed the counter tops, the sink, the kitchen table, and even the floor. I went to the fridge. I could smell it a little stronger, but I didn’t find any raw meat. I opened the freezer and the smell smothered my face. It was without a doubt in the freezer.

  I investigated. The smell should have been nauseating, but it was
actually quite appealing. My mouth continued to water as I stood in front of the freezer, taking in the bloody smell. I inspected, not completely sure of what I was looking for. The meat was all in individual gallon bags. They were assorted, I was guessing by red meat, poultry, and game. My mother was the cook, I certainly wasn’t. There were times when I would try to look over Mom’s shoulder to learn how she did things, but she always shooed me away. She would say that one day she would teach me all that she knew and that as long as I lived under her roof, I could count on her calling the shots in the kitchen. This was okay by me. I didn’t believe I could ever be the amazing cook Mom was.

  Wait a minute. Was frozen meat even supposed to smell? I knew that there was a slight odor, but not as strong as when it was raw. The smell that I was getting was as if my mother brought a cow in here and chopped it up about five minutes ago. It was…inviting. The smell swirled around me, and my stomach began to rumble.

  What did raw meat even taste like? I pulled out a bag of dark meat. A date was written on the package in my mother’s handwriting. I observed the bag, turning it over and around to get a good look at it. I became…curious.

  I opened the bag and breathed the smell. My eyes rolled as I inhaled. Oh, it smelled heavenly. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I reached in and slid my index finger over the frozen carcass. I knew I wouldn’t be able to just grab a piece, it was frozen.

  I licked my finger to see if I could get a taste. There was something, something that I could no longer resist. I brought the bag to my mouth and bit down. My lips wrapped around the meat and my mouth began sucking. It was surprisingly not as hard as I thought the frozen meat would be, and I could feel my teeth sink in. I couldn’t bite completely into it, but it was enough for me to get a nibble. It was tantalizing. I closed my eyes in satisfaction and stood in front of the open freezer, holding the bag full of frozen meat to my mouth as if it were a hamburger.

  “Grace?”

  It took everything out of me to turn my head away from the succulent meat.

  Mom stood in the doorway, confusion written all over her face. When she realized what I was doing, the color of her face changed to white.

  “Grace! What are you doing?” she asked as she rushed over to me and attempted to pull the bag out of my hands. I threw my hand back, realizing what she was trying to do. She paused and gave me a puzzled look. I had never undermined my mother before.

  “Grace. Give me the bag,” she said sternly.

  I shook my head no. I wasn’t completely sure what I was feeling at that moment. All I knew was that the bag was mine.

  She tried again to snatch the bag, reaching over my shoulder. I grabbed her wrist with my free hand and squeezed. We were face to face, and the look in her eyes resembled a mixture of pain, disconcert, and fury. I couldn’t say anything. My mission was to protect that bag.

  She tried to pull away but I squeezed tighter. “Gracie, you are hurting me.”

  She struggled to get out of my grip for a few moments until she realized she couldn’t. I continued not to speak. I didn’t move. My mind was completely void of any thoughts except what I was holding in my other hand.

  Finally, when I glanced over to the kitchen table and realized that my stomach was not completely satisfied, I let go and headed toward the food. All I wanted to do was eat and hold on to that bag. Mom stood still, dumbfounded about what just happened.

  After about ten minutes of cleaning every last crumb off the plates, I was finally full. I sat at the table alone, staring at the dishes, and then the bag. I suddenly felt the urge to vomit. Was I seriously sucking on a frozen, raw piece of beef? I swallowed back the bile in my throat and began cleaning up the mess. I threw the frozen meat into the garbage, feeling ridiculous for what I was trying to do. How could I possibly think raw meat was delicious? Well, there were people who ate raw meat. Or how about sushi? Everyone loved sushi and it’s raw fish. Wanting to eat raw meat wasn’t that bad, was it?

  I walked out of the kitchen, shaking those thoughts out of my head and making an internal promise to never try that again. Unless I wanted to die of food poisoning.

  As I made my way upstairs, memories of my mother being in the kitchen flooded back. Oh my God, she was in the kitchen…and I grabbed her! I picked up the pace and headed to her bedroom to apologize. How could I have done that? I would never hurt my mother. Ever!

  Her door was slightly open and her bedroom light was off. As I slowly pushed the door open further, I could hear her whispering voice on the other side. I leaned my ear closer into the small opening in the door and slowed my breathing.

  “…well, I am not sure if I want to do that. I don’t believe it would be the best thing for her.”

  Was she talking about me? Her voice was uneasy.

  “I left California to shield her. To protect her. I left everything I knew. Megan has no idea where I am.”

  I could hear her voice strain, and I knew she was crying. My mother never cried. She was as guarded and unemotional as they came. And who was Megan? And to protect me from what?

  “It’s getting worse, Mark. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

  It was Mark, the handsome doctor friend who came to visit the other day. I wondered if he and Mom were secretly involved, romantically. There seemed to be something more than that. Something involving me.

  I leaned in closer to get a better listen.

  “Well, we are going to have to figure something else out. Sending her to—”

  Shit! My attempt to shift my weight to hear her better without making any noise failed. My shoulder bumped the door. I paused, as did Mom. I backed away from the door slowly, praying that she wouldn’t open it. I headed to my room down the hall, silently stepping and hoping the wooden floors wouldn’t decide to be charmingly creaky tonight.

  I got into my room safely and plopped down on the bed. What was she about to say? Send me where? Why would my mom want to send me anywhere? To boarding school maybe? Who does that anymore these days, anyway? It wasn’t like I was a terrible teenager. I made good grades at school. I never got into trouble. If anything, I was an abnormal teenager. I didn’t go out often. I did my homework every night. Things had been awkward lately, with my hormonal eating and making a fool out of myself in front of the whole school, but that wasn’t it. Was it? I mean, I knew she didn’t agree with my feelings for Tristen, but that was still not enough. If she was trying to shield me from ever being with a guy…well that was just ridiculous.

  And who was Megan!

  I woke up the next morning to a familiar sharp pain in my stomach and the smell of raw meat. My entire body was aching. My bones felt as though they needed WD-40 when I attempted to maneuver myself out of the sheets.

  I finally scraped myself out of bed, limping with every step I took toward the bathroom. God, I felt like shit! My stomach felt like it was touching my back, or like I haven’t eaten in a month. Every inch of my skin was hurting. My head was pounding. I thought about skipping the bathroom and just heading straight to the refrigerator, but I needed to go.

  After doing my business, I stood up to flush the toilet. I gasped when I looked down into it. The toilet bowl was filled with red. What the hell was wrong with my insides? It didn’t hurt coming out. I felt the urge to run to my mother, but just couldn’t find the strength. Instead, I stood in front of the sink with my eyes closed. I was so tired I could barely keep them open. I splashed some cold water on my face to wake myself up. After drying it, I pulled the towel away from my face and noticed a tiny bit of blood.

  I shot my head up to look in the mirror. Aside from my limp hair, the deep, dark circles around my eyes, and the blotchiness of my face, my bottom lip was bleeding. I leaned in closer to get a better look. A piece of skin on my lip was hanging off, similar to that of a chapped lip. Just like anyone else would do, I pinched the piece of skin between my fingernails, pulling slowly to get rid of it. As I pulled, my lip followed and the tiny piece began to grow.
I winced. Blood rushed to the surface, formulating into a tear drop. I wiped it away with the towel and attempted to pull the piece off again. This time, a larger piece of skin followed and I realized that a chunk of my lip was coming with it. I couldn’t stop. It needed to come off. I pulled further and the piece continued to travel down from my lip to my chin. Blood began rushing faster, drops falling into the sink. I let go, leaving the piece free to hang down my face.

  Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was already feeling terrible or not.

  I searched the top drawer of the sink cabinet for a pair of scissors. After finding a pair of nail clippers instead, I clipped the long piece of thick flesh. I threw it in the toilet and inspected my face in the mirror. Wasn’t skin and a cut this deep supposed to be pink? My underlying skin seemed to have a brown tint. I glanced up at the light bulbs. It must have been the lighting.

  I pressed the towel down over the wound to stop some bleeding. I wasn’t bleeding as much as I thought I should be either. Strange.

  My stomach snarled at me, followed by a shooting pain. I had to eat. To be honest, I wasn’t as interested in what was happening. I wasn’t sure if that was something that I should be alarmed about, but the smell of that raw meat in the garbage was intoxicating and was most important at that very moment.

  My attempt to rush down the stairs to the kitchen was unsuccessful. Every step felt as though my bones were cracking into two. I glanced over at my mother’s bedroom door, and it was open. She didn’t seem to be in there. After finally reaching the bottom step, I looked over to my right into the living room and all I could hear was the ticking of our grandfather clock. I peeked over to my left and the kitchen was empty. There was a note on the table.

 

  Gracie,

  I had to work this morning. Breakfast is in the fridge. I love you.

  Mom

  Well, at least she wasn’t pissed enough not to leave me breakfast after what happened last night. I made my way to the fridge to retrieve my chow. The smell of bacon, eggs, toast, and all of the irresistible odors of a wholesome morning breakfast seeped into my lungs before I even opened the refrigerator door. As I reached out to open it, the smell of raw meat took over. I glanced over to the garbage can. Was the meat still in there? I walked over and slowly lifted the lid. As I did, the smell grew stronger and I could feel my stomach turning. My heart began to race, and my breaths were quicker. It was still there.

  My eyes couldn’t turn away. My mind was telling me to leave it alone. There was no way that I would allow myself to dig into the filthy garbage to grab a chunk of rotting beef. But my body began to shake, and an uncontrollable urge to have that chunk of beef in my mouth swept over me. Without hesitation, I reached in, grabbed the beef, and sunk my teeth in. It was warm. I hunched over the garbage can as I chewed and chewed. The meat was dry, with a taste I couldn’t place. It was disgusting…irony…but it was so, so delicious…and familiar. I thought of nothing else but what I was putting into my mouth. Not even the fact that I was devouring a chunk of balmy, dry, rare-beyond-rare meat.

  When I was done, I continued to lean forward over the garbage. I was waiting to vomit, even gagging a few times, but nothing came out. Should I make myself vomit? What did I just eat? The honest truth was that it was so good that, I didn’t even care.

  I straightened my body after a few minutes, still feeling hungry. Without another moment of thought, I headed to the fridge to get my real breakfast. I sat at the table, grabbing handfuls out of the dishes to feed my belly. My body felt better and better with every bite I took, and once I was completely done, I was ready to start my day. I washed the dishes and headed upstairs to shower.

  Before getting into the shower, I glanced in the mirror to assess my face. My eyes were big and bright, my hair was long, curly, and shining, and my lip was healed. I ran my index finger over where the wound was. Nothing there. How could that be? Was I dreaming that my lip was bleeding? I must have been dreaming. Confused, I hopped into the shower, deciding to yet again, shrug off the awkwardness that was ensuing me on a daily basis.

  My phone rang when I was putting on my clothes. It was Phoebe.

  “Hey, Phoebe.”

  “Hey, Grace. Whatcha doing?”

  “Nothing, just got out the shower? Aren’t you working this morning?”

  “Yeah, but it’s slow. Come see me.”

  “I don’t know. I have to study for the retake test on Monday, and Mr. Kincaid gave us a ton of homework in civics.”

  “Oh, come on, Grace. You can meet Eric! His shift starts in an hour. Please? I need you right now.”

  “Why do you need me?”

  “‘Cause, I miss you, G.”

  “You just saw me yesterday at school.”

  “Well, I wanna see you again.”

  I smiled. Phoebe was cute sometimes.

  “Fine, be there in an hour.”

  “Yay!”

  I hung up the phone and finished getting dressed. Skinny jeans, chucks, baby tee, and a fitted cardigan. I decided to continue my quest on gaining more self-esteem with some light makeup. Phoebe was right; I did feel much better when I put this stuff on my face. I needed more practice, though.

  Two swipes of eye shadow, a few blots of lipstick, and one accidental poke in the eye with mascara later, I was ready. As I passed my mother’s room, I stopped in my tracks. Mom wasn’t home. I looked over to her empty room. That conversation last night was certainly about me. Although I didn’t quite believe that Mom would send me away, I was definitely going to ask her about what I heard. I knew my mother would never do that. Things had been weird lately, but we were friends. She wanted to be around me. She would never just send me away to let perfect strangers take care of me. Besides, this was my last year of school. It would just be silly.

  But I wondered if there was anything in her room to let me know for sure.