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"No, I agree. This body may be old, but my heart is as young as it's ever been," she says with a mischievous grin before adding, "a walk in the sun sounds lovely." Nana reaches for her jacket. I can't help but smile back, as she's right. It's clear from the many wrinkles and her gray hair that she's no spring chicken, but from the way she acts, you'd still think she was in her forties, not her late sixties. She is pretty fit and able, and even now, she still dresses well.
***
We stroll through the park and into the center of town, laughing and reminiscing about the past and about how much has changed over the years. A lot of the places I remember have long since left.
"Wow, look, Nana, I see some things haven't changed," I say, pointing at a familiar looking sign.
"Nope, but I haven't been there in years. How about we stop for an ice cream and see if it's as good as we both remember?"
"I'll race you." I giggle and run ahead.
"Loser pays for the extra sprinkles," Nana calls out as I hear her running behind me.
We both continue our mini sprint down the street towards the ice cream parlor, but I'm clearly much faster. I turn around cockily, ready to yell back at Nana or pull a funny face, when karma immediately teaches me a lesson in respecting my elders. The second I look behind me, I get tangled in the leashes of a dog walker coming around the corner and end up falling on my butt. I lay flat on my back on the sidewalk and don't even try to get up as the angry dog walker mutters something under his breath and walks away. Nana comes over in a panic, obviously thinking I'm seriously hurt because I'm crying and not moving. When she realizes I'm just laughing so hard at my own stupidity, the sassy woman just steps over me. I look up at her in shock. "Um, a little help would be nice." I giggle as I watch her rush off inside the parlor. By the time I arrive inside, she has already selected two scoops of ice cream, vanilla and chocolate, and is now acting like a toddler in a candy store as she adds her many toppings. I order my scoops and toppings and walk with her to the register.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, ma'am?" asks the older gentleman behind it.
"Yes, I've got a tub of extra toppings here," Nana says, pulling out a small tub of chocolate sprinkles, marshmallows, and even some jelly candy. "The toppings are on her," Nana says, pointing at me.
"That's not fair; you never said extra cups were an option when we made our bet," I say, feigning shock.
"You never asked," Nana says, popping one of the jelly candies into her mouth and smiling at me like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.
We sit down at the table and enjoy our ice cream. "I can't believe I got hustled by an old lady!" I say, pointing my ice cream spoon at her.
"Serves you right for trying to race an old lady." Nana giggles back, taking her spoon and smearing some cream on my nose with it.
"You're such a child." I giggle, wiping the cream off with the back of my hand.
"Growing up is a scam; don't do it," Nana responds as she shoves a big spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. I can't help but get lost in a daydream, thinking about how happy and at peace I feel at this moment. Something as simple as sitting and having a treat with family is a million miles away from the life I've been leading for the last few years.
"Penny for your thoughts, dear." Nana says, reaching out and wiping away the tear I didn't even register was falling. " The ice cream’s not bad, is it? You're supposed to scream not cry for ice cream" Nana jokes.
"You're such a loser." I giggle.
"Well I made you laugh though, didn't I" Nana says with a big smile. "Now, what about eating ice cream with me brought you to tears?"
" It's nothing; I was just thinking about how happy I am to be back here with you again. I finally feel like I belong somewhere.
"You’ll always belong here; this is your home." Nana says, pulling me into a hug. "But if we don't leave soon, we’ll never make it to school in time."
***
We arrive at school just in time, and I see that the principal is waiting outside. Nana pats me on the back encouragingly, and we walk up the stairs to meet her.
"Hello Cora, this is my granddaughter Isabella," my Nana says with a smile and goes in for a hug.
"Wow, she's grown up since the last time I saw her," the short and wrinkly woman replies, hugging my Nana back before turning her attention back to me. "Well, I'm Mrs. Cross, but don't let the name fool you. As long as you don't give me too much trouble like that one over there," she says. Pointing her head to the side in the direction of an angry looking man with a motorcycle, "I'm a real softie at heart! Now follow me this way."
Nana leads the way, but I turn to see who this so-called troublemaker is. Behind me, I see a man in dirty jeans and a biker jacket standing impatiently beside a big, red Harley at the edge of the stairs, looking at his watch. I feel my pulse quicken at how threatening he appears and how uneasy that makes me feel. He's easily over six feet tall with short, brown hair. I make a mental note to stay away from this man. Hopefully, judging by his beard and the cigarette he's openly smoking, he doesn't go here anymore. I'm still staring at him, trying to make out what the tattoos are that I can see peeking out the neckline of his t-shirt and on one of his hands as he smokes his cigarette. I'm about to walk past him when he looks up, glares at me, and gives me a murderous look. Something about those big green eyes sends a shiver down my spine, but I also feel like I've seen them somewhere before. I just don't know where because he doesn't seem like the kind of person I'd ever have befriended.
I continue my tour of the school with Nana and Mrs. Cross, who I notice is calledMrs. Cby most of the students we pass. I follow along and answer direct questions whenever I need to. But most of the time I’m thinking about the man outside, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. Nana hasn't talked to him, so it can't be one of her friend's grandsons. Nana would never snub someone she knows, even if he's looking at us like he wants to eat us for breakfast. We're just walking into one of the art blocks when I see a dark green, sinister looking painting on the wall, and it clicks.
"THOSE EYES!" I gasp aloud. My heart’s pounding and my hands are now sweating, knowing exactly who those green eyes belong to.
"Did you say something?" both women ask, stopping and looking at me oddly.
"Oh, I was just saying that the attention to detail in this painting is amazing. The artist must have a great eye for detail," I reply, trying to cover up my own stupid outburst.
