Grey Street // H.S.

Chapter 4: A hill, boxed wine and the truth

The majority of South Dakota is flat, especially the side I live on. This only adds to the boringness of it all and Brookings isn't any different, just as flat as the rest of the state. Despite the mild terrain, there is a hill at the edge of town. It's not a large one but it's big enough that you can get a decent view of the brown flatness below. This is where I'm taking Harry.

It's almost always empty up there and I rarely see another person hanging out on the hill. The branches of an occasional tree provide shade from the sun and there is always a nice breeze that's just enough to keep you cool. It's pretty much the ideal place to get drunk off a box of a wine with someone I've known for three days.

After about twenty minutes of walking we reach the hill. By the time I'm at the top I'm exhausted and sweating even more than normal. Harry follows me, still breathing heavy from the run and the hike up the hill, and I walk us to a shaded area to sit down.

Luckily I thought about getting cups before we started our trek, stopping at a mini mart and stocking up on a stack of them. They wouldn't let us by two at a time, my attempts of convincing otherwise were not appreciated by the man at the register. So now we have enough to have at least twenty other people join us. We didn't have to steal those, unlike the wine, because they don't ban teenagers from buying plastic cups.

"I'm probably going to have my face plastered all over this town reading 'most wanted' with my name underneath because of you," Harry sighs out, filling up his cup with the cheap wine.

"I don't think you'll need to worry," I fill my own cup taking a sip. Even boxed wine is so much better than beer. "The guy chasing you probably passed out because it was his first exercise in years. He won't remember anything once he wakes up."

Harry snorts, loudly too, and then starts heavily laughing at his own reaction.

"You're cruel."

"Whatever," I shrug, taking another sip.

Sitting in the crunchy grass, swinging my feet back and forth, we stare out to the town below us. It's silent between us, the only sound coming from the sips of our cups, and I notice just how quiet everything looks. In reality, Brookings is a pretty quiet place but even from up here you can sense its fakeness.

"Okay," Harry sets his cup down and looks over at me. "Now tell me your full name."

His tone is demanding and it's different than what I've seen of him so far. I guess I'd be annoyed too if someone made me steal alcohol and then dragged me up a hill when it's hotter than hot outside while wearing ridiculously tight skinny jeans, just to hear their full name.

How does he even move in those things?

"Hmm," I think about it, pushing his annoyance a little further. "Okay, but first I'm going to tell you the reason."

"Fine," he says shortly, shaking his head.

"So, my parents named me after both of my grandma's," I begin. "My first name is after my mom's mom and my middle is after my dad's mom."

I look over at Harry and notice how his eyes look the same way they did when I talked to him at the party. This is probably why I can't stop talking when I'm around him, it feels like he's urging me to continue every time he blinks. Most of the time when you talk to people they aren't actively listening, they are trying to think of what to say next. But I can tell this isn't the case with him. Something about Harry is different, you can't just look at someone like he does and not be listening to them.

"Both of my grandma's are amazing people," I continue. "My dad's mom was a total hippy in the sixties and my mom's mom doesn't take shit from anyone. She'll call you out on something you did and then minutes later serve you the best cookies with the warmest smile." I realize it's been forever since I've seen any of my grandparents. They all live in Illinois and it's been a few years since I've been there or they've been here. "Elle isn't exactly my first name it's only part of it."