Gracefully grayson, p.11
Gracefully Grayson, page 11
My muscles suddenly tighten. I open my eyes and stare at the track of lights dangling far above my head. My heart is racing, and I try to focus on the pattern—black, light, black, light, black, light, but the light is seeping into the black spaces and everything is too bright to look at for so long. I close my eyes again, but I’m still blinded by the bursts of light floating in front of me. I feel dizzy, like I’m spinning, and I’m starting to feel like a bird again, like I did that day in Humanities so long ago when Amelia asked me to be her partner.
The auditorium is silent, but Finn’s voice echoes in my head. What do you wish for? I’m flying above myself now, looking down at the stage that’s slowly swirling beneath me. I’m like the phoenix in Mom’s painting. All the colors beneath me are blending together. Paige and Andrew are on either side of me. Their eyes are closed. My eyes are open. I’m clutching the sides of my yoga mat.
What are you afraid of? I hear Aunt Sally’s voice ripping through my head again: He’s creating a monster! But I don’t look like a monster. I look the way I’m supposed to look—the way I need everyone else to see me. I’m wearing the long, lacy skirt with dangling amber beads. It’s like an antique. It’s something Persephone would wear. My blond hair is a fan around my face. I look scared, but also pretty. My heartbeat surrounds me like the drumbeat that I heard at tryouts. I remember it now—how it felt when I first knew that I was supposed to be Persephone.
What do you already know?
I am a girl.
AUNT SALLY’S HAIR is blond like mine. I wonder if she wore it in braids when she was a girl. This is what I’m thinking, and I don’t know why, as I feel the gentle tug tug tug on my head. I imagine Paige’s fingers crisscrossing quickly, like they know what they’re doing. “Pass me a clip,” she says to Meagan. It’s Tuesday after school, leads only, and when Paige said she’d make me a braid, I shrugged and smiled.
I feel one last tug, and warm plastic against my cheekbone. “Cute,” Paige says, and smiles. It’s like she can read my mind, because she adds, “I’ll make you another one.” She gathers my hair at my scalp, and the gentle tugging starts again. When she’s done, I can hear the two plastic clips clanking together. I see the pink and purple out of the corner of my eye when I turn my face.
“You look fabulous, Grayson,” Natalie says, grinning. I can’t tell if she’s kidding or not, but either way, her face looks kind, so I smile back.
Finn won’t be in for a few more minutes even though rehearsal is supposed to start at three fifteen. I reach up to touch the bumpy braids and plastic clips.
“So, Meagan,” Paige suddenly asks, “what’s up with you and Sebastian?”
“Oh my God,” Meagan says, rolling her eyes. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” She sounds annoyed, but I can tell she’s trying not to smile. “Who told you?”
“Um, Liam?” Liam is Sebastian’s older brother. I follow the conversation carefully with my eyes, trying not to seem too interested or shocked, but I can’t believe what Meagan is saying. Sebastian? Ryan’s loser sidekick? What is she thinking? A thought wrestles its way into my mind—have Meagan and Sebastian ever talked about me?
“So, what’s going on?” Paige nudges. “Are you guys together or something?”
“I don’t know!” Meagan squeals.
“Well, I think he’s cute,” Paige says, just as Finn slams through the auditorium doors.
“Sorry,” he yells. “Sorry I’m late.”
“As usual,” Audrey mumbles under her breath, and the girls stand up to move onto the stage for relaxation.
I stay where I am for a minute and reach up to touch the two plastic clips hanging next to my cheek. Meagan’s long, black hair swings as she walks toward the aisle.
Andrew, Reid, and Tommy are already on the stage, laying out their mats, and Finn is talking to them. The four of them are laughing. I pull the clips off the ends of my braids, tuck them into my pocket, and run my fingers through my hair. I feel the braids unravel as I join the others onstage.
On Friday Paige is absent, and I stand in the aisle for a minute, studying the growing group of girls in the auditorium seats. Meagan is in the middle of the clump. Hannah and Hailey are on one side of her, and Audrey and Natalie are on the other. They’re bunched together, talking. I walk over to them and sit down in front of Meagan. I feel lost without Paige, and I open my backpack to take out a book to pretend to read.
“Hey, Grayson,” Meagan says, so I turn around. I’ve been watching her and Sebastian this past week, and if they really are together, they spend a lot of time ignoring each other.
“Grayson, lean over,” Natalie says, and I see she has a handful of clips. “Let’s braid your hair again.”
“Okay.” I smile, put my book back into my backpack, and turn around on my knees to face the girls behind me. She reaches for my hair, and I feel her fingers gently scratch my scalp.
“Um, are you braiding Grayson’s hair?” a sixth grader named Kristen asks from behind me. She’s one of the Elves.
“Yeah, he looks fab with braids,” Natalie says as she works, and I glance back at Kristen while Natalie hangs onto a clump of my hair.
“Okaaay,” Kristen says. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
Nobody says anything for a minute. Finally, Kristen asks, “Want some help?” and I see Audrey pass her some clips.
Kaylee is sitting next to me now. “Can I have a few?” she asks, laughter in her voice. I look at her out of the corner of my eye as Natalie tugs at my hair, and soon a million hands are flying over my head. Someone’s pulling too hard. I don’t know who, but I don’t say anything. I reach my hand up to feel what’s going on, but Natalie tells me to wait, so I do.
Meagan gives me a thumbs-up as Natalie, Kristen, and Kaylee work, and I notice that Hannah and Audrey are both talking to her at the same time. She’s looking back and forth between them, like she’s stuck in the middle of two worlds, and for some reason, this makes me smile.
By the time Finn comes in, the girls are done. I reach my hands up and feel my head. It’s completely covered in braids and clips and, all of a sudden, I feel almost guilty—like I just cheated on a test and didn’t get caught. But I push that thought away. “So? What do you think?” I ask, turning my head from side to side. I know I must look like a clown, but everyone’s smiling at me now, so I don’t really care.
“Super adorable,” Natalie says, and we walk up to the stage. Finn smiles at me as I take my yoga mat off the pile. It’s kind of uncomfortable to lie on top of a million clips during relaxation, but I leave them in anyway.
When rehearsal is over, I stand in the aisle pulling clips out of my hair and unraveling my braids. I watch everyone zip themselves into their winter jackets and put on their backpacks as I work.
“Need some help?” Meagan asks from behind me. I turn around. She’s standing with Hannah and Hailey. They look like an ad for the Gap in their pink and purple shiny jackets, their hair smooth and long.
“Nah, I’m almost done,” I say. I think of the girls’ voices and grins as I let them braid my hair, and the feeling washes over me again—that I did something wrong and got away with it. I let them treat me like I was a stupid doll or something. Anyway, what real girl wears a million crooked braids all over her head, sticking out all over the place? Real girls wear regular shirts, pants, skirts, jackets, and shoes, not crazy, exaggerated porcupine braids that make them look like an idiot. This was all just a big joke to everyone. I pass Hannah my handful of clips, and she zips them into the outside pocket of her pink backpack. I suddenly feel like crying, and I pat my head to make sure I got them all out.
“I think you’re good,” Meagan says, examining my hair. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I say. I swing my gray backpack onto my back and tuck my jacket under my arm.
“You taking the bus home?” Meagan asks as we walk out the auditorium doors.
“No, my uncle’s picking me up on his way home from work,” I tell her. “You?”
“My mom’s getting us.”
“Cool.”
“So, do you still go to the library at lunch?” she asks.
I look down at my shoes. “Yeah, I try to get my homework done so I can memorize lines at night. My uncle’s been helping me.” I run my fingers through my hair one more time.
“Well, if you ever want to eat with us, you should,” she says as we approach the double doors to the parking lot.
I look at Meagan and smile. Hannah and Hailey are standing on either side of her, watching her. “Thanks, Meagan,” I tell her. And I mean it, but I know I’ll never be able to sit at the same table as Lila and Amelia again.
Outside at the circle drive, Meagan’s mom is waiting in a silver SUV. “Bye, Grayson,” the girls say, and they pile into the car, one shining jacket at a time—first pink, then purple, then pink again. Meagan’s mom rolls down the passenger window and leans toward me.
“Hi, Grayson!” she calls, and I suddenly feel panicky. I’m sure she knows I’m Persephone. “Are you getting picked up?”
“Yeah, my uncle should be here any minute.”
“Okay, as long as you have a ride. Have a good weekend!”
I stand in the cold, damp air and wait for Uncle Evan. I should put my jacket on, but I don’t want to. I look at it, hanging over my arm—dull and black—and I try to picture what I wish were there instead. Real girls wear regular shirts, pants, skirts, jackets, and shoes. I think about the braids again. I don’t want to look like a freak. I want to be a real girl.
Uncle Evan pulls up, and I get into the car. The heat is blasting, and the news is on the radio. “Hey, Grayson,” he says as I buckle my seat belt. “How’s everything?”
“Good,” I tell him.
“Great. So listen, I hate to say this, but I’m not going to be able to practice lines with you tomorrow morning. Sorry about that. Something came up at work, and I need to go in to meet with Henry.” He looks distracted. “We’ll definitely do it Sunday, though, okay?”
“That’s fine. It’s not a problem.” I almost feel relieved. Real girls wear regular shirts, pants, skirts, jackets, and shoes. “Actually, I was thinking of going to that thrift store in Lake View tomorrow, anyway. Is that okay?” The words tumble out of my mouth.
Uncle Evan looks at me quickly. “You going with Amelia?”
“Nope,” I say. “No. Just me.”
“Sure. I’m sure that’s fine,” he says as he pulls onto the street.
THE NEXT MORNING, it looks slushy and gray out. I crack my window open. It’s way too warm for the end of January, and the wet air floats into my room, through the screen. I get dressed in my jeans and a sweatshirt, and grab my light blue fleece from my closet.
It feels strange to be riding the bus alone to the Second Hand. I haven’t done this since last summer, since before Amelia. The bus bumps and bounces through potholes as I watch out the steamy window.
In Lake View, the crowd feels familiar as I make my way down the sidewalk. I don’t look up as I pass the floor-to-ceiling window at the Coffee House, but a shudder zips through my body anyway. The wind is blowing like crazy behind me, and it practically pushes me through the doorway of the Second Hand.
Inside, everything is the same. It’s dreary and dim and smells like mothballs. I pass the shelves of knickknacks. I want to look, to see if the broken bird is still there lying at the bottom of its cage, but I don’t. I doubt it, anyway. I walk to the empty youth section.
I glance at the racks of boys’ clothes, and I remember all the time I spent sifting through them, looking for things that I could easily pretend into dresses and long, flowing shirts, and, for a tiny second, I miss doing that. It seems so safe. But, on the other side of the room are the racks of girls’ clothes, and I go to them.
I look behind me at the guy at the register with the shaved head, and at the few people shopping in the front of the store. It’s my sister’s birthday this week, I silently rehearse. She asked for clothes for a present. I look through the racks of T-shirts hanging on the wall and pull out a pink one with a sequined heart on it. It looks like it will fit me. I want to browse slowly, to feel the fabric of each T-shirt on the rack; I want to try them on, but I tell myself to hurry. I quickly find two others that I like, a lavender one with a light ruffle of lace around the bottom, and a fuchsia one with colorful butterflies embroidered on the sleeves. I take a deep breath and walk with them to the register. It’s my sister’s birthday this week. She asked for clothes for a present.
There’s someone in line ahead of me, so I drape the shirts over my arm and run my fingers through a bowl of silver rings on the front counter. One looks like a braid, and I try it on. It makes me think of Paige. Next to the rings, necklaces dangle from a metal stand. I examine them—the crosses, hearts, and colorful beads, and I look carefully at a bird charm hanging from a silver chain. Its wings are spread; it’s mid-flight. I turn the tag over. Ten dollars.
“You all set?” I look up. It’s my turn.
“Um, yeah.” My hands kind of shake as I put the shirts on the counter. I put the necklace on top of them. The guy pulls out the tag on each shirt. He doesn’t look up, and it crosses my mind for a quick second that maybe he wouldn’t care that the clothes are for me.
“You find everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Cool,” he says, finally looking at me. He smiles.
“It’s, uh, it’s my sister’s birthday this week,” I stammer. “She wanted clothes for her present.”
“This is a cool necklace,” he says as he rings it up.
“Yeah.”
“Twenty-four eighteen,” he says, putting everything into a plastic bag.
I hand him twenty-five dollars and wait for my change. “Hope your sister has a good birthday,” he says, handing it to me. I put the coins into my pocket, grab the bag, and head out the door.
THE REST OF the weekend crawls by. When Monday morning finally comes, I wake up early in my dim room and put on my jeans. I take the plastic bag out from where I hid it behind the summer clothes in my closet, pull out the necklace and pink shirt with the sparkly heart, and carefully snap off both tags. I crumple them up and throw them in my garbage can before tucking the bag back behind my shorts.
Standing in front of my mirror, I watch myself pull my pajama shirt off and put on the T-shirt. The heart lies flat on my chest. I clasp the necklace behind my neck, brush my hair and tuck it behind my ears, and stand there for a long time, looking at myself. I wonder what Paige would think.
When I hear the shower running across the hall, though, panic gushes through me. I open the other side of my closet, pull out my dark purple hoodie, put it on quickly, and zip it up all the way to the top. I look like my old self in it, but still, I can’t help smiling as I wait for my turn in the bathroom.
At school, Finn is late to Humanities again. I pretend to be looking for something in my backpack so I don’t have to make eye contact with anyone. I pay attention to the feel of the T-shirt underneath my hoodie while I wait for him to come in.
When the bell finally rings, I look to the door. Still no Finn, but Ryan is making his way to my desk now. I touch my hand to the top of my zipper and look back down to my backpack.
“Hey—Grace!” Ryan whispers. I keep my head down. “Gracie!”
And then, Finn’s voice. “All right, class! Sorry I’m late. Everyone, take your seat. Ryan? In your seat please.” I take deep breaths. “Notebooks open!” Finn picks up a dry-erase marker. “Everybody’s copy of To Kill a Mockingbird should be out. Let’s get started.” I press my fingers to the bird flying under my sweatshirt as I listen to him talk.
When Science is finally over at three o’clock, I lean down to pack my backpack. Meagan and Hannah are lab partners right behind me, and when I stand up, I see Sebastian walking toward them with a little smile on his face. His hands are in his pockets. “Hi, Meagan,” he says shyly. I look back and forth between their faces.
“Sebastian!” I hear from across the room, and I turn around. Ryan is pushing his way toward us, through everyone who’s heading for the door. “Watch it,” he says to Sofia as he shoves past her. “Sebastian, let’s go. My mom always picks me up out front.” I head for the door and glance behind me one more time as I pass Mrs. Leo’s desk. Sebastian is saying something to Ryan. His face is flushed.
Suddenly, I hear Mrs. Leo’s voice. “Grayson, do you have a moment?” I look over to her. She’s always asking people to stay behind to help her clean lab supplies.
“Oh, sorry, I have to get to rehearsal,” I call from the doorway.
“Oh, that’s right. Well, it will only take five minutes or so. Don’t after-school activities start at three fifteen? I wanted to talk to you and Sebastian for a minute.”
My heart jumps. Why?
I glance up at the clock on the wall. “Okay.” I head back to her desk.
“Sebastian?” she calls across the room. He looks over and his eyes widen.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“I need to talk to you and Grayson for a moment.” Ryan looks at Sebastian and smirks. Then he covers his mouth with his hands and fake-gags. Mrs. Leo seems totally oblivious.
“’Kay,” Sebastian mumbles, and Ryan, Meagan, and Hannah head out the door. Sebastian joins me in front of Mrs. Leo’s desk. She takes her glasses off and pushes them up onto her white curls.
“So, boys,” she starts, and I feel like she just punched me in the face with her tiny, knotted, veiny fist. I look down at my shoes. “You know, I’ve been a teacher here at Porter for almost forty years.”
