Grace had been to the city today with her girlfriends, and she is babbling about the clothes she has bought for her graduation party and other celebrations after that. Since she can't help being herself, she pretends not to notice my expression, and vaguely, I know that I should thank her later. Mother is not supposed to be let in this.
"Goodnight, mum. See you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Grace. Is Az awake?"
"No, she's asleep."
"Alright, sweet dreams Sweetie."
"You too, mum."
Grace closes the door before creeping up the bed and takes the book off my hands. She takes a peek at the front cover, frowns, and put the book with unwonted harshness. Focusing her attention to my face, she stares at me for a full minute.
"What?" I say at last.
"Want to tell me about it?" She whispers.
"Tell you about what? I don't know what you are... Grace, don't look at me like that!"
"Listen, sis. I know something's up. You are looking horrible!"
"I know. I always do." I mumble.
"Shut it. This isn't the time for such bad jokes. Your mind is on a different plane altogether. I know the stress for your senior year is hard, but your expression tells me you are beyond the examination stress."
I don't want to sound like an idiot, nor do I want to end up in an asylum by bottling all I have on my mind. Hiding it from Grace is a challenge I don't have any intentions of taking up. Besides, she knows me too much to buy any alibi, so hiding things from her is not an option. So I don't.
Grace pats my head awkwardly, and I feel her intelligent eyes scanning the room as if the answer lies there. She lets me hiccup my silent tears into oblivion and tucks me under the covers and she is there holding my hands until I'm no longer aware of any feeling.
I stare groggily around the room, straining to make out the meaning of all the noise. I know I must still be half asleep, for I have never heard my mother raise her voice on Grace before. She is the embodiment of perfection, great at every single thing she does, my parent's pride. With light brown iris, a long straight nose and thin, but perfectly lines lips, no one can guess her to be related to me, let alone my blood sister. Only her black waves and toffee coloured skin matches mine, though she is thankfully, acne-free.
What makes the dream even more fantastic is that I can hear Grace's tinkling euphony raised several notches to answer my mother. Her voice is so controlled that even my dream, which has blurred out my mother's words, fails to tune hers out.
"I don't see where the problem is, mum. I just need to send an application for the change of subjects, and there is hardly any extra money needed."
My mother mumbles something, more of a thunder than actual words. But Grace's voice remains poised and clear.
"What does it matter if I didn't tell you before? Nothing changes, even now. I had decided a few weeks back, but then I didn't realise that I haven't told you..."
Mumble.
"Mum, it's not psycopathy. And no, I won't be meeting crazy people all day long. It's mostly theoretical."
I drift off again.