Grace

by Richard Paul Evans

  “Really?”

  “My stepfather doesn’t like me.” She looked down at her watch, an oversized man’s Timex with a Twist-O-Flex wrist-band. “It’s late. I better go.”

  “I need to finish cleaning up,” I said. “But you should finish eating.”

  “Okay.”

  I was amazed to see that she finished everything. She threw away her trash and stacked her tray with the others, then she walked around to the kitchen where I was wiping down the stainless steel counters.

  “Thank you. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Hold on a second.” I filled a large sack with the leftover food we usually threw out and handed it to her. “You can have that for later.”

  She looked in the sack. “Thanks.”

  “Where are you going now?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just walk around for a while.”

  “It’s supposed to snow again tonight.”

  She didn’t say anything, just stood there, holding the sack of food. Maybe it was how helpless she looked or how pretty I thought she was, but at that moment I said the most out-of-character and bravest thing I’d ever said. “You could come home with me. I live about six blocks from here.”

  To my surprise she actually seemed to consider it. “Are your parents home?”

  “Yeah,” I said quickly, thinking she wouldn’t come if they weren’t.

  She frowned. “I better not. They might call someone.”

  She was right about that. My parents didn’t like anyone getting into their affairs and afforded others the same consideration. They’d be on the phone with her parents or the police before she got her coat off. Still, I couldn’t let her freeze. Then I had a brilliant idea. “I know where you can stay. My brother and I built a clubhouse in our backyard. It’s probably cold but it’s better than nothing.”

  “A clubhouse?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty big. My brother and I slept in there almost every night last summer. It’s got a mattress and everything.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No one will see me?”

  “Our house has five acres and it’s way out back. You can’t see it from the house. I don’t think my parents even know it’s there.”

  “You have five acres? You must be rich.”

  “Believe me, we’re not.”

  “You sure your parents won’t see me?”

  “My dad can’t walk and my mother never goes out back. It’s the perfect hideout.”

  “Why can’t your dad walk?”

  “He has Guillain-Barré. It’s this disease that paralyzes you.”

  “Wow.”

  “Well, they say it’s not always permanent. He can walk with crutches now.”

  “That’s good,” she said.

  “So are you coming?”

  “Sure.”

  We stepped outside and I pulled the door shut, locking it behind us. A light snow had started to fall. I got my bike and pushed it beside me as we started the walk to my home. I wanted to say something clever but had no idea what that might be. The silence became uncomfortable. Fortunately Grace was better at conversation than I was.

  “So, do you work every night?” she asked.

  “No. Usually just three or four times a week.”

  “How’s the pay?”

  “Not good,” I said. “Like almost too small to see with a microscope.”

  “Then why do you work there?”

  “The cool hats.”

  She laughed.

  “And I can ride my bike to work.”

  “That’s a plus,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  The walk home took us less than ten minutes. As usual all the lights at my house were off, except in the front room and on the porch. Still the moon was full and reflected brightly off the snow, illuminating the whole yard as if the snow crystals held radiance in themselves. I hadn’t ever brought anyone home and I suddenly felt embarrassed by where I lived. A part of me wanted to just walk on by, which wasn’t much of an option when you live on a dead end.

  “Thar she blows,” I said. I glanced over at Grace expecting a look of shock or, at least, pity, but if she felt either she hid it well. “It used to be my grandmother’s house. It’s kind of a shack.”

  “It’s not bad.”

  She actually sounded sincere and it made me wonder what kind of a house she lived in. I stopped a few yards from our mailbox. “We’d better be quiet. Sometimes my mom sits in the front room and reads.”

  Grace moved close to me. We passed under the dark canopy of elm that lined our property, pressing along the edge of the driveway toward the garage, the wheels of my bike on the gravel making a lot of noise. I found a dry spot and leaned my Schwinn against the garage wall.

  The snow on the yard was about eight inches deep and crusted on top, making it nearly impossible to trudge through quietly, though Grace did a better job of it than I did. The clubhouse was a dark mass in the looming shadow of the garage, its roof covered with nearly a foot of snow. I was suddenly very glad that we’d added the supporting brace.

  I knelt down on one knee and brushed the snow from a chunk of granite we’d placed near the door. Underneath was a rusted key. I unlocked the padlock then pushed the door open and crawled in.

  I hadn’t been inside the clubhouse since the first snowfall; it smelled musty and dank. The carpet was cold and crusted with frost. I felt my way to the post in the center of the room and stood, fumbling until I found the light and switched it on. It was cold enough inside to see my breath.

  Grace crawled in after me, holding the sack of food in front of her. She slowly stood and looked around the room. “You built this?”

  “Yeah. My brother and me.”

  “It’s really great.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s purple.”

  “I know,” I said. “My brother did it. It’s the only color paint he could find.”

  “I like purple,” she said. She glanced at the Vargas poster but said nothing. I suddenly felt a little awkward.

  “That was my grandfather’s,” I said apologetically.

  “She’s pretty,” Grace said. She looked at the fruit dryer. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a fruit dryer.”

  “What does it do?”

  I wondered if this was a trick question. “It dries fruit.”

  “Why would you need a machine to dry fruit? You can just wipe it off.”

  “No, it dries it up, like the way they make raisins from grapes.”

  “They make raisins from grapes?”

  I wondered if she was kidding. She wasn’t. “Yeah.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Yeah.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “Maybe we could turn it on.”

  “It doesn’t make much heat. I’m sorry, it almost feels colder in here than outside,” I said. “It’s like the meat locker at the Queen.”

  “It’ll warm up,” she said hopefully. “Eskimos live in igloos. It can’t be that bad.”

  I pointed to the corner. “That’s the mattress. And our sleeping bags.” I unzipped Joel’s sleeping bag and laid it across mine for extra warmth, but it was cold like everything else. I lit the kerosene lamp on the small wooden box we used as a table and the sweet scent of kerosene filled the room. The sight of the flame at least made it seem warmer.

  “That will help,” she said.

  “I’ve got an idea. I’ll be right back.”

  I crawled out the clubhouse door and ran to the house. Fortunately the back door was unlocked and I tiptoed in. My parents’ room was across the hall from the one Joel and I shared and I could hear my father’s heavy snore echoed by my mom’s lighter snore. I softly pulled their door shut, then looked through the hall closet until I found what I’d come for. When I returned, Grace was in the sleeping bag with her coat still on. She had found our Etch A Sketch and was drawing. The bag of food wa
s open next to her. The clubhouse already seemed a little warmer.

  “Look at this,” I said. “A heating pad.” I plugged it in the opposite side of the extension cord. An amber light glowed on its control box and within a minute it was toasty warm. “Try this.”

  “This is great.” She looked a little relieved as she put it inside the sleeping bag. “Have you always lived here?” she asked.

  “No, we moved here last May.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “No.”

  “What don’t you like about it?”

  “Everything.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like our first week here my mom dropped me and Joel off at the movie theater. After the show a gang of kids followed us out to the parking lot. They wanted to beat us up because we were clean-cut.”

  “You got beat up?”

  “No, but almost. My mother drove up and they ran off. But you know how it is. There’s a fight at school almost every day.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “My mom grew up here. She said Utah was a nice place to raise a family but it must have changed.”

  “It might just be this area. It’s poor. There’s a lot of trailer parks and stuff,” she said. “Where did you used to live?”

  “California.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go to California.”

  “People were nicer in California. The whole time I was there, there was only one fight at school. And it wasn’t so cold there.” I rubbed my nose. “What about you? You like it here?”

  She sighed. “I wish we’d never come. We moved here from Hawaii.”

  Hawaii seemed like a foreign country to me and as exotic as any place I could imagine. “I’ve never met anyone from Hawaii. Why’d you move here?”

  “My mother got married again. Stan said he had work here but he doesn’t ever work. He just sits around and drinks beer.”

  “Think you’ll ever go back?”

  “I hope so.”

  “How’s the heating pad?”

  “It’s really warm.”

  “Good,” I said. “You can adjust it if it gets too hot.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you going to school tomorrow?”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “Oh yeah, right.” I felt a little stupid. “Do you want me to bring you something to eat in the morning?”

  “That would be nice.”

  I pointed to the orange pump. “If you’re thirsty, it works. Just lift the handle. There’s a cup there.” Joel and I had tied a string to the handle of a tin cup and hung it from the spigot.

  “Groovy. It’s like indoor plumbing.”

  I smiled. “Well, I’ll go so you can get some sleep.”

  “Thanks. Oh, where do you…”

  I looked at her blankly.

  “…go to the bathroom?”

  I blushed. “There’s an outhouse on the other side of the chicken hut. It’s just a little over that way. It’s kinda creepy, but it’s better than nothing.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “All right. Good night.”

  I crawled out and shut the door behind me. The snow was falling heavily now; by tomorrow morning there would be several more inches on the ground. I hoped Grace would be warm enough. At least the clubhouse was better than a Dumpster. As I walked back I couldn’t believe a girl was living in my clubhouse. I wondered how long she’d stay.

  CHAPTER Six

  Last night I slept in a clubhouse in a boy’s backyard.

  I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but it’s better than any

  of my current alternatives. And it has a transistor radio.

  GRACE’S DIARY

  SATURDAY, OCT. 13

  The house was already in motion when I woke the next morning. I could smell bacon frying and I could hear my mother in the kitchen talking. I suddenly remembered Grace and felt a strange excitement.

  During the summer Joel and I trapped animals in the spring box traps we found in the garage. The traps didn’t hurt the animals but we quickly learned that setting them free could pose a problem, as the animals were usually in a pretty foul mood by the time we got to them. Mostly we caught rats and raccoons. One Sunday we went out to find we’d trapped a skunk. Even though it was my turn to release, I talked Joel into letting it out. As he opened the cage door, he got the full spray of the polecat’s wrath. My mother made Joel bathe in tomato juice and vinegar, then she burned his clothes in the fireplace. He didn’t talk to me the rest of the day, which I didn’t mind since he still smelled like the skunk.

  This morning I felt like I had trapped something really big in the clubhouse.

  I pulled on a T-shirt and Levi’s and went out to the kitchen. My mom was at the stove wearing her pink flannel robe. Joel sat at the table eating.

  “Good morning,” my mom said cheerfully. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

  “You were already asleep.”

  “How do you want your egg?”

  “Scrambled. And may I have three eggs this morning?”

  “Three?” She turned to look at me, her eyebrows raised.

  “I’m just really hungry. Must be a growth spurt or something.”

  She began cracking eggs into a bowl. “It snowed a lot last night.”

  I looked out the window. The storm had dropped more than a foot of snow on the ground. I thought of the clubhouse and hoped the roof had held.

  “I’m driving Dad to Uncle Norm’s this morning. You boys want to go?”

  “Yeah, Daddy-o,” Joel said.

  “Don’t say that,” my mom said. “It’s not respectful.”

  “Sorry.”

  I didn’t think he sounded very sorry.

  Uncle Norm had a two-story home with a color television on each floor. Dad and Norm would sit in the two La-Z-Boy chairs and watch football while Aunt Geniel fed us. There was always lots of food: hot dogs, potato salad, and the best baked beans in the world, the kind with brown sugar and strips of bacon laid across the top. While the adults watched football, Joel and I would start up a game of Risk or Monopoly. Aunt Geniel usually baked chocolate chip or sugar cookies. As far as I was concerned, Uncle Norm’s was the only good thing about moving to Utah so I surprised even myself when I said, “I’m not sure.”

  Joel looked at me stunned.

  “I’ve just got some things I need to do.”

  “Like what?” Joel asked.

  “I’ve got a school project, sort of.”

  My mother dished the eggs onto a plate. “Well, make up your mind. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

  Joel stared at me incredulously.

  “I’ve got to tell you something,” I mouthed.

  “What?” he said out loud.

  “Shut up,” I mouthed back. I stood up and walked to our bedroom, gesturing for Joel to follow me.

  “What’s going on?”

  I glanced back to be sure our mother wasn’t within ear-shot. “There’s someone in our clubhouse,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “There’s a girl in the clubhouse.”

  He shook his head. “You wish.”

  “Oh yeah? I’ll make you a bet. Loser does the dishes for the next month.”

  Joel was smart enough to not take the bet, but he still didn’t believe me. “Why would there be a girl in our clubhouse?”

  “Is it a bet?”

  “No. You’re up to something.”

  “Come see.”

  “If you drop a bucket of water on my head, Mom will kill you.”

  “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

  We walked back into the kitchen to find our mother gone. As I was scooping the eggs into a bowl, she walked back in. “What are you doing?”

  “Uh, I thought I’d eat breakfast outside.”

  “Just eat it in here.”

  “I miss the clubhouse.”

  “Eric, it’s freezing outside.”

  “Ple
ase. I won’t be long. Then we’ll go.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “Just don’t leave the bowl out there. And hurry. We need to leave soon.” She walked back out.

  I put a piece of buttered toast on top of the eggs and Joel followed me out to the backyard.

  “If this is one of your stupid tricks…”

  “Jeez, enough already. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

  When we got to the clubhouse I knocked on the door, then pushed it open. I got down on my knees and stuck my head in, holding the bowl of eggs in front of me. It was dark inside, and little Eva’s “Loco-Motion” was playing on the radio.

  “Grace, I brought you some breakfast.” She didn’t respond. It was much warmer than it had been the night before. I crawled in and turned on the light. She wasn’t there. Joel came in after me.

  “She’s not here,” I said.

  “I told you no one was here. You have to do the dishes.”

  “No, I don’t. We never bet.” I looked around. “You can see someone was here. Who do you think turned the radio on? And there’s her bag.”

  Joel seemed baffled by the evidence. “Then who is she?”

  “A girl I met at the Queen last night. She ran away from home and didn’t have anyplace to go. I told her she could stay here.”

  Just then Grace crawled back in. “Eric…” She froze when she saw Joel. Joel stared back at her. I’m not sure who was more surprised.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “He’s my brother. He won’t tell anyone.”

  She crawled the rest of the way in, then stood. “I was using the bathroom.”

  “How’d you sleep?” I asked.

  “Pretty good. It warmed up a lot. The heating pad helped.”

  Joel just stared at her. Grace put out her hand. “I’m Grace.”

  “I’m Joel. Glad to meet you,” Joel said formally, which coming from a ten-year-old sounded pretty funny.

  I handed her the bowl. “I brought you some breakfast. Scrambled eggs.”

  “Thanks. I love eggs on toast.” Grace took the bowl and sat down. She folded the toast and scooped up a clump of the eggs.

  Joel asked, “Where are you from?”

  “I live by Granite Jr. High.”

  “How long are you going to stay here?”

  Even though I had wondered the same thing I still wanted to kick him.