Forevermore, p.1
Forevermore, page 1
Forevermore
Copyright © 2021 by Alex Grayson.
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Moonstruck Cover Design. Interior Formatting by Alex Grayson. Editing by Edits by Erin and Briggs Consulting LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this document via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and is punishable by law.
Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials.
All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincide.
ISBN: 978-1-7351982-3-1 (Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-7351982-4-8 (Hardback)
ISBN: 978-1-7351982-1-7 (Ebook)
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Also by Alex Grayson
About the Author
To my daughter. You are my sunshine. May all of your dreams and wish comes true.
Chapter One
MOLLY
Barre Vale, New York
7 Years Old
“Four-eyes! Four-eyes! Four-eyes!”
My bottom lip trembles, and hot tears slide down my cheeks as Mark and Jensen tease me. I wish I remembered to take my glasses off before coming out to recess. I don’t know why they hate me so much, but they always pick on me. This time it’s because of the stupid glasses Mom is making me wear. I wish they’d leave me alone.
I cross my arms over my chest, turn around, and sulk over to the swing set, trying my best to ignore their taunts. My shoulders droop when I hear them following me. Keeping my head down, I sit on the swing.
“Four—”
“Leave her alone!”
I jerk my head up at the angry voice. My breath catches at the black-haired boy with his back to me, blocking Mark and Jensen. It’s the new kid from my class who just started today. Mrs. Garner said his name is Lincoln. I wonder if he’s stupid or very brave because no one ever stands up to these two bullies.
“What are you gonna do if we don’t?” Jensen taunts. He puffs his chest out like he’s trying to act bigger than he is. If it wouldn’t cause more problems for me, I’d probably laugh.
“You’re gonna find out if you don’t leave her alone,” Lincoln says, taking a step closer to him.
Something happens that I never thought I’d see. With Lincoln’s back to me, I can’t see his face. His expression must be scary though, because Jensen drops his eyes and takes a step back. Mark’s face turns white, and he trips over his feet trying to get away and almost falls on his butt. I kinda wish he would have.
My belly stops tumbling when Jensen and Mark turn and run to the slide, looking back over their shoulders as they go.
“Thank you,” I mumble. I sway back and forth on the swing, the tips of my toes grazing the wood chips covering the ground.
When Lincoln turns to face me, the look on his face scares me at first, but it doesn’t last long. As soon as his eyes meet mine, the mean look is gone. He has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. They remind me of the sky when there’s a storm coming. His black hair is long and messy on the top but cut shorter on the sides.
“Do they do that a lot?” he asks, pushing his hands into his front pockets.
I’ve only ever told one person about Mark and Jensen picking on me. I went to my teacher last year, and she called all of our parents in for a conference. The talk she gave them didn’t do any good. It made their behavior even worse. A week later, they pushed me down on the playground, and I scraped my knee and palm on the woodchips. They normally don’t touch me, but their words hurt more anyway. I haven’t told anyone since then, worried about what they’ll do if I did.
For some reason though, I want to tell Lincoln.
“Not all the time.” I shrug.
“Well, they won’t anymore when I’m around. I’ll protect you.”
Something weird happens inside my stomach. It feels like there’s a bunch of butterflies flying around.
I stare at him as he walks over to the swing beside me. Mom would say it’s rude to stare, but I don’t care. It’s like something is making me look at him. I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.
“What’s your name?” he asks after he sits down and starts pushing his swing with his foot.
“Molly.”
When he looks at me, I jerk my head forward, my cheeks turning hot at being caught watching him.
“I like it.”
I peek at him again. “What do you mean?”
“Your name. I like it. It’s pretty.”
“Oh.” A smile pops up on my face. “Thanks.”
As we continue to swing, my eyes keep going back to him. I really like looking at him.
My glasses slip down my nose, so I push them back. I’ve thought about purposely dropping them and stomping on them, but I don’t want Mom to be disappointed in me. She stressed the importance of taking care of them.
“Thank you for making Jensen and Mark stop.”
He lifts his shoulders. “They’re jerks.”
I nod. “Yeah. I don’t know why they don’t like me. I haven’t ever done anything to them.”
“It’s because they think you’re pretty,” he grumbles.
My eyes widen. “What? No, they don’t.”
He looks at me out the corner of his eye. “Mom says boys pick on girls because they think they’re pretty.”
I pinch my lips together. I want to tell him that’s dumb, but I don’t want him to think I’m saying his mom is dumb. Another thought occurs to me. If his mom is right, then does that mean he doesn’t think I’m pretty since he’s not making fun of me? My shoulders slump with the thought. I want him to think I’m pretty, just like he thinks my name is.
We don’t talk anymore as we swing until the bell rings. Lincoln jumps up and surprises me when he waits for me to stand too. He walks beside me as we make our way over to Mrs. Garner, our teacher. When Jensen and Mark get close, Lincoln gives them a dirty look and they move away.
“So, do you wanna be friends?”
He looks at me, smiling so big his cheeks puff out. “We already are.”
I smile too, suddenly feeling really happy.
* * *
With my book bag on my back and my lunch box in my hand, I climb the bus steps. I always sit in the front seat right behind the bus driver, Mrs. Willis, so I’m surprised when someone is already there. Lincoln looks just as surprised as I am. He quickly gets up and moves to the aisle.
“Cool,” he says, grinning. “We can sit together.”
The butterflies are back in my belly as I slide into the seat with my lunch box on my lap. Lincoln sits beside me, and I notice his lunch box.
“I like your lunch box.”
He glances down at it before looking back at me. “Thanks. I painted the front.”
“Wow! Really?” I scoot over and take a closer look. It doesn’t have any pictures or anything. It’s only a bunch of colorful squiggly lines and splashes, like he dipped his paintbrush in a bunch of different colors and flicked it at the box. It looks really neat. “That’s so cool. It’s a lot better than mine.”
He looks at my pink Hello Kitty lunch box. “I can paint yours, too, if you want.”
“But mine already has a picture on it.”
“All I gotta do is paint it white first, then do whatever design I want.”
I drop my eyes to the pink lunch box and wonder if Mom would be mad if I let Lincoln paint it. I decide to take the chance and hand it over to him.
“Here, you can use mine until I get done with yours.” He hands over his lunch box. “It’ll take me a few days to finish it.”
“But what will you use for your lunch?”
“I’ve got another one at home.”
“Okay.” I hug the lunch box to my chest. It’s dumb, but I like the thought of using something that’s his.
Mrs. Willis pulls away from the school, causing our shoulders to bump together.
“You like to paint, huh?”
He nods. “Yep. It’s my favorite thing to do. Mom says I’m going to be an artist when I grow up, just like Dad.”
“Your dad paints too?”
“Nah. He likes to draw with pencils, not paint like me.”
“I suck at drawing and painting.”
“You could totally get better. You just havta put your mind to it.”
“Maybe you could teach me how?”
I hold my breath, hoping he’ll agree. It’ll mean I get to spend more time with him.
“Sure. I can show you.”
The bus stops and a couple of kids get off. There’s only one more stop left before we reach mine.
“Where did you live before?”
“West Virginia.”
I tilt my head to see him b
He shrugs, “Something to do with my dad’s job. He’s supposed to get paid a lot more or something.”
“Oh.” I look at the back of Mrs. Willis’ head for a moment before turning back to Lincoln. “Do you miss your old home and friends?”
He presses his lips together, like he’s thinking hard about something. “I did, but not anymore.”
“Whatcha mean?”
Before he can answer, the bus stops again, and more kids get off. My stop isn’t far from here. It’s Friday, so there’s no school tomorrow, which means it’ll be two whole days before I see Lincoln again. The thought of not seeing him for that long makes my stomach hurt like it does when I eat too much candy.
“‘Cause I made a new friend that I like a lot.”
My cheeks feel hot, knowing he’s talking about me.
“My birthday is in a couple of weeks. Do you wanna come to my party?”
His smile is so big it takes up almost his whole face. He bobs his head up and down. “Yeah. That sounds like fun. My birthday was a week ago. I wish we had been friends then so you could have come to mine.”
“I can come to the next one,” I offer.
“You gotta come. People never miss their best friend’s parties.”
I can’t help the smile that forms on my face. “You wanna be my best friend?”
He looks at me like I’m crazy or something. “We’re already best friends.”
My smile grows, but it soon fades when the bus starts to slow down. My shoulders drop, and my stomach hurts again.
“What’s wrong?” He frowns.
“This is my stop, but I don’t wanna get off,” I mumble.
“Why not?”
I drop my head a little, feeling shy. My hair falls across my face, but I still peek at him through the red strands. “‘Cause I like talking to you, and I’m not going to be able to see you for two whole days.”
My eyes go as big as saucers when he pushes it back from my face and over my shoulder.
“I like talking to you too. You’re really nice and super pretty.”
His words make that weird fluttering feeling come back to my stomach.
“Guess what?” Lincoln asks when the bus stops and he gets up to let me out of the seat.
“What?”
“This is my stop too.” He grins and his pretty eyes dance with laughter.
“Really?” I stare at him in shock. “You’re really for real?”
He grabs his backpack from the floor. “Yep.”
Excitement bubbles inside me and almost has me tripping in the aisle. When I tip forward, he grabs my arm and keeps me from falling. It’s stupid, but I can’t help the giddiness I feel, knowing he’s getting off at my stop. Maybe that means he doesn’t live far from me and we can play over the weekend.
I wave goodbye to Mrs. Willis when I walk past her, and she wishes us both a good weekend. It definitely looks better than it did before.
“Which way is your house?” Lincoln asks once the bus pulls away.
I point down the street. “It’s that way.”
“Well, let’s go then.”
He grabs my hand and we start walking. He doesn’t let it go, and I’m glad. I like his hand touching mine. It makes me feel special.
When we come to the corner where I have to turn right, I expect him to let go of my hand. He keeps a hold of it, and we both turn down my street.
“Your house is this way too?”
“Yep.” He points to a big white house down the road.
“No way!” I exclaim. “That’s my house right there!” I point to the light blue house only a couple away from his.
“Awesome!” His fingers twitch against mine. “That means we can play all the time.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I’m going to have a real friend, and he lives really close to me. There’s only one other girl who lives on this street, and she’s a couple of years older than me. Her parents take her to school every morning and pick her up in the afternoon. The other girls in my class aren’t very nice, so I never tried making friends with them.
“Maybe you can come over to my house tomorrow?” he suggests.
We come to a stop in front of my house, and he lets my hand go. “I can ask my mom. She’ll probably want to meet your parents first, though. I’ve never played at someone else’s house before, except for my cousins.”
“I’ll ask Mom to come over, so your mom knows you’ll be okay.”
I nod, wishing it was tomorrow already. “I gotta go inside before she comes looking for me.”
“Okay.” His pretty eyes crinkle at the sides when he smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Lincoln,” I say softly.
“Bye, Molly.”
I’m sad when I turn around and walk up the driveway, but hopefully, I’ll get to see him tomorrow. I look back when I get to my front door and see him still standing on the sidewalk, watching me. I smile and wave before I open the door and walk inside.
Chapter Two
LINCOLN
8 Years Old
Staring up at the big, white door with a black knocker thing, I press the doorbell instead. I bounce in my shoes as I wait for it to open. Excitement has my heart jumping around in my chest, like it always does when I’m about to see Molly.
The door opens, and I expect to see her mom or dad on the other side, so I’m surprised and happy when Molly peeks her head around the door. All I can do is stare at her. She has on a light-blue dress with little purple flowers at the bottom where it touches her knees. Her pretty, red hair is braided and tossed over her shoulder, and her green eyes, which always remind me of the color of grass after it rains, sparkle like she has little fireflies in them.
“Hey.” I smile and wave.
Cute dimples pop out on her cheeks when she smiles back. She pushes her glasses up her little nose. “You came.”
“Told you I would. Best friends always come to their best friend’s birthday parties. I won’t ever miss any of yours.” I hold out her wrapped gift. “This is for you.”
Her eyes dart to the present in my hand and widen like she’s surprised. “You got me a birthday present?”
“Of course I did, silly. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”
She giggles and grabs the present, hugging it to her chest. “Thank you.”
“Happy Birthday, Molly.”
She reaches for my hand, and the minute she touches it, some weird feeling travels up my arm. Her skin is warm and soft as I curl my fingers around hers.
“Come on. Everyone’s out back.”
With my hand still in hers, she leads me through her house toward the back door. I’ve been here a few times in the two weeks we’ve known each other, just like she’s been to my house. Almost every day since we met on the playground, we’ve hung out together.
At first, I was angry we moved here because I had to leave all my friends and my favorite after school art program. I refused to go to school the first day, but Mom and Dad made me. I hated them so much when they left me at the classroom door to walk inside. I didn’t care I had to go in alone, I just didn’t want to be there. I had just sat at my desk, angrily pulling out my pencil box, when I looked up and saw the prettiest girl in the whole world come into the room. She had her head bent down, looking at something in her hand, so her red hair was hiding her face, but I knew I had to know her. Something inside my head told me we were going to be friends.
I didn’t get a chance to talk to her until we went out for recess. Mrs. Garner kept me inside for the first few minutes to talk, but as soon as I walked through the doors, I immediately looked for her. I saw her with a couple of other boys. I didn’t care. I was going to go over there and steal her attention away from them.
I was on my way when I heard them call her “four-eyes.” They started laughing, and she turned away from them, dropping her head and shoulders. It made me so mad I ran the rest of the way. I wanted to punch their ugly faces for making her sad. Instead, I made them leave, sat beside her on the other swing, and we talked until she smiled. The pain in my chest didn’t ease up until then.
