So Lyrical by Trish Cook

Author:Trish Cook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US

CHAPTER 10

The next morning, Grandpa had magically turned into an alarm clock. A very loud one. “Get up, you lazy heads,” he bellowed. “I have a big surprise for you today. And it’s a doozy.”

I rubbed my eyes and rolled over, hoping whatever it was would allow us to sleep at least three or four more hours. “That’s great, Grandpa,” I mumbled.

Grandpa pulled the covers off of me. “You are meeting a real, live dignitary today. So put on your fanciest clothes and let’s get on the road.”

I flopped my body out of bed and riffled through my suitcase. A second later, I held up a pair of dark denim Sevens and a sheer black T-shirt for his approval. “This is about as good as it gets.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Well, OK. I’m sure Father Joe has seen kids wear worse.”

Brina popped her head up from her pillow. “We’re going to church? But it’s only Thursday!”

Grandpa blew a seafood quiche burp her way. “No, even better. We’re going to meet with my Jesuit friend at Fairfield University.”

I jumped back in bed and pulled the covers over my head. “No need, Grandpa. I hate to break it to you, but I’m going to school in California.”

“Not once you see my alma mater.”

I shook my head vigorously. “Even after that, I’m afraid.”

Grandpa stood his ground. “Care to make a wager?”

“Nope,” I said. “My New Year’s resolution is to stop stealing money from senior citizens.”

“Good, Father Joe will love to hear all about your high moral standards. Let’s go, kids. Time’s a-wastin’.”

We all reluctantly got scrubbed and ready for a supremely dull day with an old priest and my gassy gramps.

“Yesterday was obviously the high point of this vacation, Trace,” Brina whispered as we got back in the car for yet another road trip. “And today will undoubtedly turn out to be the low one.”

A couple of hours later, we pulled into the campus and Grandpa proudly pointed out everything there was to see. It took all of about three seconds.

“Isn’t this place the shizzle?” Grandpa asked, staring at us in the rearview mirror.

“It’s great, Grandpa,” I said in a flat monotone. I was tired, bored, and achy from sleeping on the crappy bed at my grandparents’ house. And I just wanted to get home and regroup so I could figure out what to do about the picture I’d found. The gears were totally spinning in my head—I had so many ideas I wanted to put into action.

“So you’ll think about attending next year?” he asked, like a vulture preying on some poor distracted bunny.

“Not a chance,” I said, snapping back to life before he had a chance to devour my serious reservations and spit back out an honest-to-goodness Fairfield freshman.

“Just wait until you meet Father Joe,” Grandpa said, as insistent as ever that this rinky-dink school was the place for me. “You’ll for sure be convinced after that.”

Grandpa parked the car and led us through the heavy oak doors of Bellarmine Hall.

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