Gray and I met in third grade.

At the time, none of my classmates liked him much.

They said he stunk like a skunk.

Sadly, I had to agree. His BO had been pretty potent as a kid. We lived in Arizona. The dry, scorching heat was an anomaly. It somehow managed to leave one's skin feeling both parched and slicked with sweat at the same exact time.

None of the third graders ever smelled nice after running around like rabid, red-faced hooligans during recess, especially in the months of ninety-degree or triple digit temperatures, but Gray's stink had been in a league of its own.

Back then, Gray usually had no choice but to wear the same set of grimy clothes for days on end. Later, I found out that it wasn't uncommon for his mom to skip laundry day. His dad was just as forgetful. They liked to drink. Sometimes, when they hit the bottle too hard, Brandi and Stephan Jones simply forgot about their son.

They forgot to do stuff—as Gray used to say.

Stuff—that I took for granted from my parents.

✦

"I... changed my mind, Gracie."

"About what?"

"About... the abortion."

"Oh, my God. What about your career? I thought you said that you didn't want to put anything on pause..."

"I don't know."

"What about Gray?"

"I don't know."

"I thought he was against having kids. What gives, Lydia? Did you talk to him?"

"I don't know, Gracie! Will you stop with all the fucking questions, and just let me think for a minute?"

✦

From the start of the school year, I noticed Gray right away because he was so tall. Lanky. Built like a stick figure. He had curly black hair and the longest, prettiest lashes I ever saw on a boy.

Gray told me later, after we became friends, that his mom named him for his eyes.

Isaiah Gray Jones.

His eyes were pale like the moon. I always thought the grayness looked real nice against the brownness of his skin.

By the second week of school, I noticed that his parents never packed food for him. Gray was already on the free and reduced lunch program, so he was, at least, guaranteed one hot meal a day, but I couldn't help observing how he looked kind of sad and embarrassed while the rest of us munched away on crackers or grapes during afternoon snack time.

My eight-year-old brain had wondered, then, if he was hungry. He was so skinny, after all.

The next day, I asked my mom for a bigger portion of snacks. I fibbed and told her that I was the hungry one. My mom didn't hesitate to give me more food, and I started to bring extra Ziploc baggies to school everyday.

Each morning, once I got to campus, I would portion off some of my snacks into an empty baggie. Then, I would quietly, discreetly slip it into Gray's backpack when no one was looking. I was scared that the other students might start making fun of me if I got caught being nice to the weird, smelly kid.

Luckily, I didn't get caught. And it didn't take long for Gray to find the snacks that I had hidden in his backpack.

Carrot sticks, pretzels, Goldfish—it didn't matter what I gave him.

The boy ate everything with a ghost of a smile on his face.

✦

"I think I have an idea, Gracie."

"What's... that?"

"You're going to think that I'm batshit crazy."

"I already think that you're batshit crazy!"

✦

When I learned that my sister was pregnant with Gray's baby, I found myself reminiscing about the past a lot. Too much for my own good, probably.

But I couldn't help it.

I couldn't stop obsessing over what the fuck had gone so wrong between Gray and me.

We were happy together, once upon a time, as best friends, as almost lovers...

I swear, the emotions between us weren't always so one sided.

✦

"Hear me out, okay?"

"Okay..."

"Why don't you take the baby after it's born?"