Chapter Four - MARKUS

Markus watched Gracie hurry away down the hall. He’d been worried when she hadn’t shown up at lunch, and it seemed like she had a good reason. As she’d left Mrs. Krump’s classroom, he’d been able to tell something was wrong, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Gracie still barely acknowledged his presence, and he wondered if she thought of him as one would think of an ornamental vase—something everyone knew existed, but after seeing it the first couple of times, it just faded into the background.

At least lunch hadn’t been as awkward as the previous day when Markus had been too nervous to even talk. Part of the problem was that he didn’t know if Alexa’s friends had wanted him there or they’d merely tolerated his presence because she had invited him to eat with them. But today he had managed to make Alexa and her friends laugh. Once. That was a good start.

Markus glanced at his phone. He needed to hurry if he was going to get to his next class on time. He quickened his pace, but as he passed the girls’ bathroom, he heard what sounded like someone sobbing. It echoed against the tiled walls, and he paused, unsure what to do. There was no door on the bathroom, just a short walkway that curved to allow for privacy, which seemed to magnify the sound.

The halls were nearly empty as everyone slipped into their classes, just barely beating the bell.

The sobbing didn’t relent, however. If anything, it worsened.

“Hello?” he called into the bathroom. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” a voice said between choked sobs.

Um…no. She was most definitely not okay.

“I’m going to go get someone, okay?” Markus said, completely out of his comfort zone. He’d go find one of the school counselors. They were trained in dealing with stuff like this. He bet they had loads of girls crying in their offices every day.

“No,” a panicked voice called back. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Before Markus could leave, Gracie appeared in the entryway. Her face had red blotches all over it and her eyes were puffy. Markus stared, stunned. Sure, she had seemed a little off the last couple of days, but she always had a small smile playing on her lips.

When she saw that it was him, she wiped a sleeve across her wet cheeks. “Why do you always seem to show up at the least opportune moments?”

Oh, no. Gracie thought he was stalking her. He hadn’t meant to follow her, he had just wanted to help.

“I swear, I didn’t know it was you in the bathroom,” he said.

Gracie used a piece of toilet paper to dab at the smeared mascara around her eyes. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have stopped to help if you had known it was me?”

Oh, gosh, this was getting worse.

“Of course I would. It just didn’t matter to me who it was—you or some other random girl crying her eyes out.” As soon as he said it, he heard how it must have sounded to Gracie. Why couldn’t he have normal social skills for once? He’d even settle for slightly below average, rather than abysmal.

Gracie pulled back. “I better clean up. I’m sure I look awful.” She turned to go back into the bathroom.

“That’s not what I meant. You look lovely. You always do,” Markus said, his words rushing out.

This time Gracie’s lips pulled up and Markus could see a hint of her dimples. “So, you’re saying I don’t look like a sunburned raccoon right now?”

Markus took in her red eyes, tinged with black mascara that had spread onto her eyelids as well as below her eyes all the way to her cheekbones. “So what if you do? Who doesn’t love raccoons?”

This time Gracie laughed and shook her head. “You are a very interesting person, Mark.”

“It’s Markus,” he said on autopilot. He flinched. Markus had been trying to break himself of the habit, but his father had ingrained it in him. Apparently people who wanted to be taken seriously didn’t use nicknames.

Gracie tilted her head to the side. “Sorry. Alex always calls you Mark, so I just assumed.”

“Yes, well, Alexa has always done things her own way,” he said.

“That’s very true,” Gracie said with another small laugh. He loved that laugh. And holy cow, those dimples. He loved those dimples.

Markus steeled himself for what he was about to do. “You know, I’d be okay with you calling me Mark.”

Gracie’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah…but don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep.” Had he just made a joke?

Gracie giggled. “It will be our little secret. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your reputation.”

And she had laughed at his joke?

“I really do need to get cleaned up before I head to class,” Gracie said, backing into the bathroom.

Oh, yeah. Class. The only times Markus had been late for class were because of Gracie. It had been totally worth it, though. He lifted his hand and waggled his fingers. “Okay. I’ll see you later.” What was that? Lamest goodbye ever.

“Mark?”

His gaze met hers, and he tried to hide how much he liked it when she called him that. More than he should. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For caring.”

Markus felt heat rush into his cheeks. “No problem.”

He left for class before he could make a bigger fool of himself.

* * * * *

Markus hung his backpack in his closet and collapsed onto his bed. He couldn’t believe he’d had an entire conversation with Gracie that day. Sure, it had been because she had been completely distraught—he realized now that he had no idea what had been wrong, and maybe he should have asked if she wanted to talk about it. Maybe he could get Gracie’s phone number from Alexa. But what would he say?

Hey, Gracie. Remember how I was there when you were crying super hard after lunch? Was that something you wanted to talk about? Oh, you want to know how I got your number? Um… No, I swear I’m not stalking you… You’re right, it would have been better if I had gotten it directly from you… I creep you out? Yes, I understand if you feel like you need a restraining order.

Markus pushed the thoughts aside and forced himself to focus on finishing his homework. Well, his extra homework. He’d finished his assigned work a week ago and his dad had instructed the school to give Markus additional assignments. His dad had insisted that Markus could handle it, and that it would give him an edge on the other kids. The extra work wasn’t difficult, but it sucked up all his free time.

What made it worse was that none of it mattered, considering he would be graduating in a few short months. He pressed on anyway, because it was easier than arguing with his dad about it.

He had just finished up when his dad came home. As per ritual, Markus heard his dad at the kitchen table, shuffling through the papers he needed to grade before his class that night. He was a mechanical engineer, but because he had a PhD., he was able to teach evening classes at the distance education facility the university had set up in their small Minnesota town. It was another moment before his dad finished the ritual by stopping by Markus’s room to check on him.

“Hey, Markus,” his dad said, poking his head around the corner.

“Hi, Dad,” Markus said.

“It’s Dr. Brown to you,” his dad said with a small chuckle as he stepped into the room. He always said the same thing and then laughed, like it was a joke or something. But Markus often wondered if his dad actually preferred the formal title of ‘doctor’ to something as mundane as ‘Dad.’

It was also a way to remind Markus that his goal was to get a PhD. He would be Dr. Brown, just like his dad. Of course, Markus couldn’t be just any doctor. There was no way his dad would ever let him get a PhD in something like art or history. Religious studies or English? Yeah, right. Not that Markus was interested in any of those things. But it would have been nice to know that if he was, his dad would have supported him.

“How was school?” his dad asked.

Markus’s thoughts immediately turned to Gracie and their encounter at the girls’ bathroom. He would never make the mistake of talking to his dad about something like girls, though. His dad thought of them as a distraction to Markus’s end goal—though Markus had no say in what that goal was—and it had taken some bargaining just to get his dad to let him go to the homecoming dance at the beginning of the school year, not to mention the New Year’s Eve party where he had met Gracie. Thankfully that one had been during their holiday break, so his dad hadn’t been able to come up with a good reason to keep Markus from attending.

He wondered if his dad’s position on dating had anything to do with what had happened between Marcus’s parents. He’d never know, considering his dad refused to speak about Markus’s mother. He pretended she’d never been a part of their lives.

“School was fine,” Markus said with a small shrug. “Same old stuff.”

“Have any of your acceptance letters arrived?”

Markus had already known that would be the next question. It had been for the past month. “They don’t usually come for at least another month or two.”

“But there are some who have already gotten early acceptance,” his dad pressed.

Except, Markus hadn’t applied for early acceptance. He was supposed to. But the truth of the matter was that he hadn’t applied anywhere at all. He had been so stressed by the pressure his dad was putting on him at the beginning of the school year that by Christmas, Markus had decided he wasn’t going to college. He knew he couldn’t put off telling his dad forever. Eventually, he would find out. But that day didn’t have to be today.

“I only know of two,” Markus said, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to lie to his dad…just delay telling him the truth. “One was for a pre-med program and the other for music. It wasn’t at any of the schools on my list.”

“All right,” his dad said, though he looked disappointed. “But you’ll tell me as soon as your letters come, right?”

Guilt gnawed at Markus, and he wanted to tell his dad how he was tired of the academic grind and felt like he needed to take some time off—but the words stuck in his throat.

“Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes,” his dad said, turning to leave. “How about if you come on down and set the table.”

That was always Markus’s chore—setting the table for two.

As he trudged down the stairs, Markus couldn’t help but worry that if he continued in his father’s footsteps, in twenty years he would no longer be setting the table for two.

Instead, he’d be stuck setting the table for one.