The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,37

wait, thinking he’s going to continue—but that’s it. “That’s not much of a hint.”

“And asking questions,” Grant adds, like that should help.

“Still not.” I huff in frustration.

“Then I guess you’ll have to be patient.”

I throw the cotton ball in the trash with a groan. “I hate patience.”

He laughs. “I miss you too.”

“And that. Why can’t you just go to school here?” I know I sound like a petulant child, but I’m tired … of all of it. But mostly that I haven’t seen Grant all weekend.

“Or you could enroll at Printz-Lee,” he counters playfully.

I grumble, “That’s not how this sentencing thing works, unfortunately.”

“It could. We’ll appeal to the judge.” I know he’s teasing, but I’m really not in the mood to reciprocate his banter.

“Oh, Niall would love that.” I close the bottle of remover and wash my hands.

“My dad will write a letter on your behalf. He’s very persuasive.”

“Isn’t he an elementary school principal?”

“Still an educator. But he should probably meet you first. So how about at dinner when they come up in a couple weeks?”

I choke. Literally. On nothing but air.

“Lana? You alright?” Grant sounds concerned, not recognizing it was his words that got caught in my throat.

I slowly recover from my coughing fit. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. They’re bringing my things to move me into the dorms in a couple weeks,” he explains, his optimism unaffected by my what-the-fuck reaction. “And they want to meet you.”

“You told them about me?” I can’t even imagine how he described me. I’ve never been the girl guys take home to meet their parents. Come to think of it, I’ve never met anyone’s parents other than Tori’s … and Niall doesn’t count.

“Of course.”

“When?”

“Pretty much right after we met. You … left an impression.”

“I was ridiculous when we first met. I could barely speak around you.”

Grant chuckles fondly at the recollection. “You were adorable. Still are. I know it’s unexpected, but will you think about it?”

I close my eyes and scrunch my face, silently cursing. “Fine. I’ll meet your parents.”

“Thank you.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and somehow, that makes the torture a little more bearable.

“I should go. They’re about to kick us off with their nightly check-in.” I plop down on my bed, the phone in my hand.

“You know, now that you told me about Black—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt. “This is their phone, remember?”

“Right. Forgot that paranoia’s our friend.”

“Sadly.”

“Sophia!” I holler when I spot her in the Court the next morning.

But she disappears around a corner without looking back. I jog after her. It’s too fricken hot to be chasing after people today. Just as I catch sight of her again, my phone rings. When I discover who’s calling, I stop. My heart does as well.

“Mom? Everything okay?”

“Hi, Lana,” she greets me cheerily. “Are you busy?”

I peel my tank top from my sweaty skin, watching Sophia disappear on the other side of a garden inspired by Candy Land or Willy Wonka. Human-sized lollipops and gumdrops litter the grass in vibrant rainbow hues. “No. I’m free. How are you?” I stand in the shadow of a chocolate bar, seeking some relief from the blistering July sun. If I keep walking while on the phone, I know I’ll get lost, and will probably melt.

“You’ll be happy to know that I went to the doctor, and I’m on new medication. I already feel so much better and have a ton more energy. No migraines since I started taking them either.”

“That’s great.” That relentless knot of worry reserved specifically for my mother loosens slightly. “How’s everything else? Work okay? Did you pay the electric bill last week?”

She laughs like I’m being ridiculous. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Easier said than done. For the last couple of years, stressing about my mother has felt like my life’s mission. Maybe she’s finally ready to take care of herself. Maybe.

“I wanted to let you know I’ll be seeing you this weekend,” she announces excitedly. “I’m driving up with Niall and Olivia on Saturday. We’re all having dinner together.”

“Wow, really?” I respond in shock. I guess I gave up on ever seeing anyone from Sherling until I was allowed to leave Blackwood. It feels like I’m living two totally separate lives.

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Can I … bring someone?”

“Who? A boy?” She sounds hopeful.

I brace myself, knowing she’s been dying for this to happen. “His name’s Grant. I met him at work. And he’s … pretty great.”

“Omigod. I’ve been waiting so long. I’m so happy for