Gracefully grayson, p.17
Gracefully Grayson, page 17
“Can I go to the bathroom?” I ask.
“Of course you can. Just hurry.”
I get up and duck out of the classroom. There’s nobody in the hall but me, and I can hear voices coming from behind the closed classroom doors. Name tags hang crookedly above some of the lockers, though lots of them fell off months ago. I stop in front of the drinking fountain. Water is dripping from the bottom of it into a dirty, yellow bucket. I stand there. I listen to the quiet noises around me.
In front of me are the two bathroom doors, and I look back and forth, from one sign to the other. BOYS and GIRLS. I remember Paige’s back disappearing into the girls’ room across from the auditorium, and my wish fills me again like a fire.
I walk into the boys’ room. It’s empty. The urinals are disgusting, and they smell like pee. I pass them quickly and go into a stall. It’s hard to do it with my cast on, but I peel off my gray thermal and then my pink T-shirt with the sequined heart on it. I’m freezing, and my hands are kind of shaky. I hold my pink T-shirt between my knees and put the thermal back on and then put my forearms into the body of my T-shirt to stretch it out a little. The dried plaster of my cast catches on the T-shirt as I pull it over the thermal. I look down.
I walk out of the stall and stand in front of the tall, dirty mirror that looks like it’s about a million years old. There are smudges of rust on it, in the corners and around the edges, and someone has scribbled all over it with a green Sharpie. I think of all the years that I spent wearing boys’ clothes and pretending that I looked like I do right now, and I think about how I wished and pretended that everyone else could see me the way I’m supposed to be, the way I really am. I take the two tiny hairclips that I’ve been carrying around out of my pocket and arrange them neatly behind my ears. I smooth out my hair and walk out the doorway and into the hall.
The door to the classroom is closed. I stand in front of it for a minute and look through the window. Bart is holding his note cards now, and he, Sebastian, Steven, Meagan, Hannah, and Hailey are next to Finn’s desk. They’re talking and laughing with Mrs. LaBelle. They’re waiting for me.
I look down at the doorknob. I’m scared, but I do it anyway—I open the door and walk inside.
ENDLESS GRATITUDE…
To my early readers who expressed enthusiasm and took the time to talk to me and ask me important questions. Your excitement upon reading (some very unpolished) drafts of this book kept me moving forward. Joyce Heyman, Laura Bleill, Christy O’Brien, Dale Lipschultz, GraceAnne DeCandido, and Lisa Pliscou—thank you for embracing me and Grayson early on in my journey.
To my fellow workshoppers at StoryStudio Chicago for being present at the start and providing thoughtful, much-needed feedback.
To Molly Backes for your generous gifts of time and insight. Thank you for giving me the confidence to call myself a writer.
To Caryn Fliegler, my oldest friend and trusted reader—you read multiple drafts and gave me invaluable feedback from day one. Thank you for looking out for Grayson and telling me once that nothing should matter but the experiences she was created to endure.
To Lydia Polonsky for being my first editor, Kenneth Polonsky for your feedback and excitement, and the entire Polonsky clan for eagerly anticipating each new stage with me.
To Susan Caruso for giving me days upon days to write and for your insights into the life of a drama geek. Thank you for your never-ending support of me as a parent, writer, and person.
To my parents for your unflagging enthusiasm about my writing career and for your all-around backing during this new phase of my life: Barbara Hurwitz, thank you for many things, but especially for being my number one fan. Martin Lipschultz, thank you for teaching me to always look for the gray. And to Dan Lipschultz, thank you for being my childhood partner in observation, analysis, and crime.
To my trusted agent, Wendy Schmalz, for taking me and Grayson under your wing with such quick enthusiasm that I am still pinching myself. Thank you for always being there to answer my many questions and to support me as a writer and a human being.
To my talented editor, Lisa Yoskowitz, for believing in Grayson and paving the path for her entry into the world. I am forever grateful for the questions you asked and for your help in making this book what it is now. And to the entire team at Hyperion, especially Suzanne Murphy, Stephanie Lurie, Dina Sherman, Liz Usuriello, and Julie Moody—thank you for your important contributions and amazing support.
And, finally, to my family, the inspiration for everything: Benny, who is all love and only light; Ella, my sensitive, fierce, and brave little friend; and Daniel, my first reader and first love.
Ami Polonsky (www.AmiPolonsky.com) is a reading and writing tutor, a mother to two young children, and an author, among other things. A former Language Arts teacher and literacy coach, Ami remains passionate about guiding children toward a love of books and helping to create lifetime readers. Ami lives outside of Chicago with her family. This is her first novel.
Ami Polonsky, Gracefully Grayson
