Free Lucky 13 by Rachael Brownell Page A

to get up there and speak. Each assignment is a portion of our grade, and I plan on earning a good grade in my first college class.
    I practice my speech while I drive, missing the entrance to the campus parking lot. After turning around and finding a spot, I rush to the classroom, determined to save Grant a seat today. I’m the first to arrive, so I snag two desks in the back of the room and wait.
    As everyone starts to pile in, I realize that I’m not going to be able to save his seat much longer. I remove my bag and an older woman takes the seat almost immediately. When the professor walks in and announces the start of class, my heart falls. Grant’s not here. Why?
    I can’t call him and ask. I can’t text him to see if he’s on his way. It’ll be Tuesday before I see him again if he doesn’t show up. Is he sick? Did his car break down? Something has to be wrong. He was intrigued to learn more about me. At least, that’s what he led me to believe.
    I give my speech with less gusto that originally planned. My spirit is crushed. Grant never shows up to class, and because of that, I make it back to school with plenty of time to spare before lunch. Sitting in my car, I rack my brain. I run through our entire conversation on Tuesday and think back on his demeanor as we went our separate ways. He seemed fine. He seemed like he enjoyed our conversation. He even said he’d see me today. So where the hell was he? The fact that I won’t know if he’s okay until Tuesday will drive me crazy over the weekend.
    I’m already falling for this guy and I’ve only talked to him a few times. That concerns me. I don’t know any of the important things about his life. I asked stupid questions at lunch the other day when I should have dug a little deeper. Maybe he’s a crazy stalker or something. I have run into him in the most random places. Maybe he’s a serial killer?
    Really, Madison?
    I need to stop watching crime dramas at night before bed. I need to stop watching them all together, probably. My imagination is getting the best of me. He seems like a nice guy. He’s funny and interesting, and for now, that’s all that matters. I’m going to assume he’s come down with a cold or something. I’ll see him on Tuesday and find out for sure.
    Thankfully, Libby is focused on her own life at lunch and doesn’t notice my sour mood. As the last bell rings, signaling the end of the school day, I breathe a sigh of relief. I want to go home and spend some quality time with myself. I only have a little homework and should be able to finish it before dinner time. Then, I plan to head over to the base, Cherry Point, and find my father. Tomorrow night is the football game and I would like to go if he’ll allow it.
    I’m surprised to find his SUV sitting in the driveway when I arrive home. Entering the house, I hear him yelling from down the hall. Heading in that direction, I find my father in the den, on his phone. His back is to me so he doesn’t notice my arrival. I’m about to clear my throat when he yells again at the person on the other end of the line.
    “I don’t care who you have to clear it with, I want this house transferred to my name before the close of business Wednesday. You have one week. Figure it out, Finch!”
    My father ends the call and tosses his phone on the desk. I wait a few beats before speaking, unsure of what I want to say. He’s trying to take the house away from me. He’s essentially stealing it from me. He has no right to do so. It wasn’t left to him. Grandma wanted me to have it for a reason.
    Backing slowly out of the room, I decide not to say anything right now. Anger is coursing through my veins and nothing productive will come from a conversation with him right now. I’ll address the issue later. Right now, I’m going to head to my room and decompress.
    I hear my father call me an hour later. He’s standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands on his hips, looking irritated with me.