Gracefully Grayson Read online

  “We’ll have lots to discuss as we read,” Finn continues. “Starting today, all of my classes will be working in pairs for the rest of the quarter. You’re the lucky ones who get to rearrange the classroom. Once you’re paired up, everyone will have a built-in discussion partner!”

  I look up quickly, then down, as my hands get clammy. “So,” Finn continues, “everybody up! Find your partners! Once you’ve pushed your desks together into pairs, I want the pairs lined up in rows!” He’s yelling now over the noise of the class. It’s like someone broke a piñata, and everyone is frantically searching for candy. Except for me. I stand up slowly, and I don’t move. It’s not such a big deal! I want to scream. But I’m frozen.

  I’ve done this so many times before. Teachers at Porter are always making us choose partners for projects, or choose groups for discussions. By now, I’ve figured out what to do. I stand still. I watch kids pair up frantically. They look so stupid. I wait. In the end, the teacher will suggest that I join up with Keri or Michael or whoever is left over.

  Across the room, Ryan motions for Sebastian to join him, and Hailey and Lila are already laughing about something as they push their desks together. Amelia is in the middle of the room, looking around nervously. She always sits next to me on the bus now. I’m starting to feel jittery. She says something to Maria and then looks down, her face flushed. She glances around again. It almost looks like she’s about to cry.

  She starts walking in my direction. Now my heart is racing in my chest. Nothing is working for me the way it used to, and all the sounds around me start to disappear, like someone is turning the volume button on the radio almost to off. The only noise I can hear is an annoying hum, and suddenly, it’s like I’m watching myself watch the class, as if I’m a bird perched on the high wooden bookshelves lining the classroom walls. I see myself below, biting my lip, clumsily untying the oversize gray sweatshirt from my waist. I watch myself look down and retie it, trying to stretch it so it hangs around my waist completely. I see myself study the small gap in front. The sweatshirt isn’t big enough to be a skirt. And, then, from my perch up above, I start to feel like someone’s watching me, like I’m a bird in a cage. I look over to Finn. He’s sitting on his desk, his head cocked to the side. He looks at the sweatshirt around my waist and back up to my eyes.

  With a thump, I’m back on the ground. Amelia is standing in front of me. The volume has been switched back on. Desks and chairs scream across the floor.

  She looks nervous. “So, do you already have a partner, too?” she asks.

  “No,” I mumble.

  “Do you want to pair up, then?” she asks quickly.

  I can’t think of a reason to say no, so I nod. “Yeah, okay.” We push our desks together at the back of the room behind Ryan and Sebastian, and sit down. Finn is dancing around the classroom directing pairs to move six inches this way or that. I smooth out my hair and look down at my nails. I can feel Amelia’s eyes on me.

  “So, I never see you at lunch,” she says. Her voice is loud over the sounds of the classroom, and I cringe. She continues, “Do you have a different lunch period or something?”

  In front of us, Ryan and Sebastian grin at each other and turn around. Sebastian adjusts his glasses. “He’s eaten lunch in the library since, like, third grade,” he says.

  I try not to flinch, and I look at Amelia. She’s blushing. “Oh,” she says quietly.

  “I bet he’s doing extra homework,” Ryan says, smirking. “Like the teachers don’t already love him. What a freak.” I look back down at my fingernails.

  Finn is back in the front of the newly arranged classroom, yelling for our attention. Ryan and Sebastian turn around, and I look up at Amelia out of the corner of my eye. Her cheeks look pink, and she’s staring straight ahead.

  “We only have a minute left,” Finn says once the class is quiet. “Here are your books. Please read chapters one through three tonight.” He hands out stacks of novels quickly at the front of the room, counting out the right numbers for each row. Sebastian passes two books back to me without turning around. I hand one to Amelia, and she puts it into her backpack. I do the same.

  The bell rings. Once Ryan and Sebastian are out of earshot, Amelia turns to me. Almost whispering, she says, “I think you should meet me in the lunchroom fifth period. We could eat together.”

  I think, suddenly, of second grade, before Emma moved away, and of the table in the corner of the lunchroom where we always used to sit. I look at Amelia’s round face and dimpled cheeks.

  I feel myself stepping out of my skin again. “Okay,” I say. I have no control over myself. “I’ll meet you there.”

  I HAVEN’T SET FOOT in the lunchroom in forever. It’s crazy how loud it is. I guess the entire middle school is jammed into one room, so what did I expect? Everyone is crammed in, close together, leaning over tables, throwing brown paper bags, getting up, sitting down, yelling, laughing. The smell of hot lunches and old sandwiches is so disgusting that it’s almost unbearable. I look over to where a bunch of seventh graders are sitting, and I scan their faces quickly for Jack, but luckily, I don’t see him anywhere.

  The ceiling of the lunchroom is high, and long rectangular windows line three sides of the room completely. A flood of blinding light pours in from outside. The noise bounces like a million invisible Ping-Pong balls from the floor to the ceiling to the windows to the tops of the lunch tables over and over again.

  I stand in the doorway, feeling completely ill. I wonder where Jack is. The strap of my backpack is cutting into my shoulder, and I can’t take it anymore. I turn around to head to the library. But I take one step and walk right into Amelia.

  “Good, you came!” she says. “Come on.” She steps ahead of me, into the lunchroom. I take one more look around, and I follow her in.

  She walks slowly down the aisle in the center of the room, looking carefully at each table she passes until she finally stops when she gets to a pretty empty one near the back of the room. Lila, Meagan, Hannah, and Hailey are sitting toward the middle of the long table, huddled together in a little clump, their lunch bags in front of them and their lunches spread out on the tabletop. “Let’s sit here,” Amelia says quickly, and she plops her backpack down on the end of the table. “Are you buying lunch?”

  I slide onto the bench and unzip my backpack. “No, I brought one.” I take out the brown bag that Aunt Sally packed last night.

  “Yeah, me too,” Amelia says, taking a pink lunch bag out of her backpack. “You couldn’t pay me to eat hot lunch.” She glances over to the four girls and looks quickly back to me. I peer over at them to see what she’s looking at, but they’re just sitting there, eating and talking.

  “I know,” I tell her, and smile a little. I watch her unwrap her sandwich. She takes a bite, and I wonder who she ate with before today. Probably nobody.

  My stomach is fluttery and empty feeling. Up through second grade, Emma and I used to eat lunch together every day. Across the room, some eighth-grade boys are sitting at the table near the glass doors where we always used to eat. Looking between them to the empty playground outside makes me think of friendship bracelets made out of colorful yarn and the way Emma would tuck her shirt into her jeans before we’d hang upside down on the jungle gym. I smile to myself thinking about her messy blond hair, red-rimmed glasses, and missing front teeth.

  It doesn’t feel like I’m supposed to be here, in this loud, crowded room filled with shouting and laughing, but a part of me—the part of me that also wonders how Emma’s doing in Florida, if that’s even where she still lives—is happy to be back.

  I bite into my sandwich, chew slowly, and wonder what to say to Amelia. She’s glancing around. Her eyes jump from one group of sixth graders to another. She looks again at Lila, Meagan, Hannah, and Hailey, and smiles this time. When I look over, I see that Lila is waving to her.

  Amelia turns back to me, beaming, and takes another bite of her sandwich. “So, it’s cool that Finn lets us p
ick our own groups,” she says, her mouth full. “We never got to do anything like that at my old school.”

  “Yeah,” I say, as I dig through my lunch bag for my water bottle. “We always get to do that kind of thing.”

  “That’s awesome,” she says, opening her pretzels.

  She starts telling me about Boston, and I wonder if she had lots of friends at her old school. It’s like I stepped inside a bubble with Amelia. The bright light, noises, and smells bounce off of it.

  Amelia is still talking when the lunch monitor gets to our table and tells us to line up at the glass doors for sixth period. It’s strange to think that life in the lunchroom went on without me during all the years I was eating by myself in the library. I wonder for another second if I’m making a mistake, but I smile at Amelia anyway, stuff the rest of my lunch into my backpack, and follow her to the double doors.

  After school, I watch for Amelia at the bus stop. She shows up a few minutes after me, and we get on the 60 together. We always sit in the same seats now.

  “So, what do you do after school?” I blurt out, and immediately look out the window. I don’t want to see her reaction.

  She doesn’t seem fazed. “Nothing. Watch TV, homework. My mom comes home at, like, six, and we have dinner.” I picture Amelia alone in her fancy marble apartment, and I feel sorry for her. It seems lonely, and I look at her eyes to see if I can find the sadness.

  “Where does your dad live?” I ask.

  “Just outside of Boston. I used to go to his house every weekend, but now that we moved I’m going for the summers instead.” She says it as if she’s telling me about a math assignment, like it’s no big deal.

  “Do you like him?” I ask.

  “He’s nice when it’s just me and him, but I can’t stand his wife and I have two prissy little stepsisters who everyone thinks are perfect.” She’s talking fast now. “They’re five and seven, and they’re such brats. And his wife is so whiney and obnoxious. I can’t stand them.” She spits the last sentence out like it’s a piece of old, disgusting gum.

  “Oh.” I look at her. Her body bounces as the bus bumps along. Her jeans are kind of frumpy, and her arms are folded over her dark pink fleece, like she’s trying to hide herself. I envision two perfect little girls in perfect matching outfits, and I am positive that Amelia feels like an outcast. I understand how she feels, and I look out the window again and squeeze my eyes shut.

  I think back to all the other kids in the lunchroom, sitting together in clumps, huddled around their own shared secrets. I take a deep breath and turn back to Amelia. “So, do you want to go shopping with me this weekend? There’s this great thrift shop in Lake View that I’ve been wanting to go to.”

  She looks at me for a second, her head tilted to the side. She seems curious and surprised. “Really?”

  “Yeah!” I say. I’m excited, but I catch myself. “Our old nanny used to take us all the time, but I haven’t been in forever. I need winter clothes.” The bus is slowing to a stop. We stand up, make our way to the door, and jump down. “My aunt and uncle usually just give me money and let me shop by myself. They don’t really care what I do.” I’m surprised that I say this; I’m not really sure if it’s true.

  She pauses again and watches my eyes as the bus disappears down the street. She pulls her hair away from her face. “You live with your aunt and uncle?”

  “Yeah,” I say, jamming my hands into my pockets. I look down the street, away from Amelia. “Listen, I have to get home. Ask your mom if you can come with me. Tomorrow or Sunday. It doesn’t matter. Call me. You have the school directory, right?”

  “Yeah,” she says, still studying me as I turn quickly to cross the street. I run across as the bright hand starts to blink. My giant backpack suddenly feels like two hands collapsing my shoulders. It thuds against my back as I run. The wind has picked up off the lake at the end of the block, and it wails through the tall buildings like the siren on an ambulance. I turn around when I get to the corner and look back at Amelia through my long, windblown bangs. She’s still standing where I left her. She raises her hand slowly and gives me a little wave. I smile quickly, then turn and walk home.

  I LET MYSELF into the empty apartment and go straight to my room. I throw my backpack onto my bed as I watch my reflection in the mirror out of the corner of my eye. My black jeans are jeans. My oversize, long-sleeved T-shirt is a T-shirt. The girl in the leggings and dress who I struggled to see this morning was gone by the time I’d finished breakfast. I slam my bedroom door and walk to the kitchen for some cereal. You’re getting way too old to pretend, I tell myself.

  I shove what I wish I saw in the mirror out of my mind and think back, instead, to my conversation with Amelia. I wonder if she’ll call me. Maybe I’ll have a real friend again. I think, for the first time in forever, of Emma’s apartment and how her mom would give us lunch on the kid-size wooden table in her living room. I remember pink plastic bowls of macaroni and cheese, and juice boxes. My body feels strange, like it’s someone else’s, and I shudder, because I could be making a huge mistake.

  I bring my cereal to my room, avoiding the mirror this time. Instead, I pull out my sketch pad and colored pencils, and focus on the field of flowers that I’m working on. I draw the flowers on their stems—each one different from the one next to it. I think about adding two girls in the middle of the field, but I hear the front door click open and Jack and Brett talking, so I slide the drawing into my drawer, take my math book out of my backpack, and start my homework instead. I glance at the clock. Aunt Sally and Uncle Evan will be home soon, too.

  There’s a knock on my door, and Brett pokes his head in. “Hi, Grayson,” he says through the crack. “Whatcha doing? I need to show you something.”

  “Cool, what is it?” I ask, putting down my pencil. He walks over to me until our noses are practically touching, and he opens his mouth. “You guess,” he says as best he can with his mouth open wide. “What’s different?”

  I peer inside. “Looks like there’s a tooth missing,” I say. He grins and pulls a tiny red plastic treasure chest out from his pocket. He pries it open to show me. I remember getting the same thing from the nurse’s office at school when I was younger. “That’s awesome,” I tell him even though the tooth looks gross. “Don’t lose it.”

  He snaps the treasure chest shut. “I won’t.” He shoves it back into his pocket and walks over to my bookcase. “Can I?” he asks. I nod. He picks up my old brown teddy bear and the small greenish one, and jumps onto my bed with them.

  “What’s Jack doing?” I ask him, and he shrugs as he adjusts the T-shirt on the brown bear. Probably lying on the couch with his eyes closed, listening to music again.

  I do my math problems while Brett plays on my bed. Eventually, I hear the front door open and close, and then dinnertime noises. Uncle Evan is talking to Jack. “Don’t you have homework?” he’s asking, and Aunt Sally is saying something about setting the table.

  Brett puts the bears back onto the shelf carefully, right next to my old picture books, and we walk to the dining room. White boxes of Chinese takeout are scattered on the gleaming glass table. Uncle Evan asks us how school was and did we do our homework—the same questions every day. I sit next to Brett and start opening containers as he shows Aunt Sally, Uncle Evan, and Jack his treasure chest and the hole in his mouth.

  “Make sure you put that tooth under the pillow for the tooth fairy,” Uncle Evan reminds Brett as Jack rolls his eyes.

  “Jack,” Aunt Sally warns, shooting him a look. “So,” she says, “aside from Brett finally losing his tooth, did anything exciting happen today?” She pauses, looking at us expectantly, but no one answers. Her eyes look tired. “Hey, Ev,” she says like she just remembered something, “my prediction about Felix and that brief was absolutely right on. Can you believe that?”

  “I can,” Uncle Evan responds. “So, what happened?”

  And they go on, discussing some legal situation while Brett shows
me how he can poke his straw into the new window in the side of his mouth and drink his milk through it. Eventually, he almost spills, and Uncle Evan makes him stop. I stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows at Amelia’s building and the darkening sky.

  Aunt Sally is stacking our plates into a pile when the phone rings. Jack jumps up and darts into the kitchen.

  “Hello?” he asks. There’s a pause, and he comes around the corner into the dining room with the phone to his ear. He has a giant, annoying grin plastered on his stupid face. “Who’s calling?” he asks, his eyes sparkling. “One moment please,” he sings, in a phony, polite voice.

  He keeps the phone next to his face. “Um, Grayson, it seems your girlfriend, Amelia, is calling?”

  I jump up. “Shut up, Jack,” I say. I hold out my hand for the phone. He isn’t budging. I look at Aunt Sally and Uncle Evan for help, but they’re just looking back and forth between me and Jack, shocked.

  “Jack, is it really for Grayson?” Uncle Evan finally asks.

  Jack grins. “I’m serious; it is!”

  “So why aren’t you giving it to him?” Brett asks, and Uncle Evan startles.

  “Yes, Jack, just hand him the phone,” Uncle Evan says, glancing over at Aunt Sally, who now has a pleased smile on her face.

  Jack extends his arm slowly, and I snatch the phone from his hand. I walk to my room and sit on the edge of my bed.

  “Hello?” I almost whisper.

  “Hi, it’s me, Amelia,” she says. “Who was that?”

  “Just my cousin Jack. Ignore him. He’s a complete jerk.”

  “Yeah, seriously,” Amelia says. “How old is he? Does he go to Porter? Did you tell him I’m not your girlfriend?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “He called me your girlfriend. Did you tell him I wasn’t?”

  “Oh—no, I will,” I say.