Grace (12 page)
Authors: T. Greenwood
They’d offered an open adoption, but the idea seemed crazy to her. What kind of person could witness their own child growing up in someone else’s house? How could that be fair to anyone? When you sold a car, you didn’t show up at the new owner’s house and expect to drive it. You didn’t go by on the weekends to give it a wash in the driveway. Of course, she knew a baby wasn’t the same thing as a car. But regardless, it was still an exchange. By giving the baby up, she got her life back. But what kind of trade was that?
She used to count the ways she loved Ty. Now she only counted the ways he’d ruined everything.
T
revor’s mind was like a steel trap, like the ones Pop set out near the garden to catch raccoons and skunks. It was a violent thing, with sharp edges. It caught its victims and wouldn’t let them go. It bit into their hindquarters, held them captive. At night when he tried to sleep, it was like this: all those thoughts trying to come loose, gnawing at themselves, while the steel teeth of his mind refused let go.
revor’s mind was like a steel trap, like the ones Pop set out near the garden to catch raccoons and skunks. It was a violent thing, with sharp edges. It caught its victims and wouldn’t let them go. It bit into their hindquarters, held them captive. At night when he tried to sleep, it was like this: all those thoughts trying to come loose, gnawing at themselves, while the steel teeth of his mind refused let go.
When Mrs. Cross called him and Ethan into her office, she’d made it clear that there were no chances left. She’d made them sit next to each other, facing her behind the rickety old desk as she explained how close to suspension, if not expulsion, they were.
“You behave like animals,” she said. “And this is not a zoo. This is a
school
.”
school
.”
Ethan rolled his eyes, and Mrs. Cross’s face grew flushed, as though someone were squeezing her around her neck. Trevor almost wondered if he should remind her to breathe. “If there is one more incident. So much as a scuffle ...” she started, and Ethan yawned. “Mr. Sweeney? Am I boring you?” Her voice was so tight it sounded like it might snap.
“No ma’am,” he said and straightened up in his chair, stifling another yawn.
“And you, Trevor? Do you find this conversation tiresome?”
“
I
didn’t yawn,” Trevor said, flabbergasted. He’d been sitting there listening politely for the last ten minutes. What did she want him to do?
I
didn’t yawn,” Trevor said, flabbergasted. He’d been sitting there listening politely for the last ten minutes. What did she want him to do?
“Well, I certainly hope not. Because
this is it
. You have no more chances, mister. No more free passes. You will both be eighth graders soon. It is time to set aside any of the grievances you might have with each other and work on getting along. I don’t need you to be friends, but I do need to trust that you aren’t going to attack each other.”
this is it
. You have no more chances, mister. No more free passes. You will both be eighth graders soon. It is time to set aside any of the grievances you might have with each other and work on getting along. I don’t need you to be friends, but I do need to trust that you aren’t going to attack each other.”
The idea that he still had a whole year left at this stupid school made his body buzz. He could hardly wait for high school. Two Rivers High was a union school, with about five towns feeding into it. It was big enough he figured he might be able to start fresh, or at least get lost in the crowd. But he had to get through not only this school year but the entire eighth grade before that would happen. And if what Mrs. Cross said was the truth, one misstep might get him kicked out. His biggest fear was that it might happen even if he
didn’t
do anything wrong. If Ethan started something, it wouldn’t matter if he stood there like a rock and took it. She was determined to punish them both.
didn’t
do anything wrong. If Ethan started something, it wouldn’t matter if he stood there like a rock and took it. She was determined to punish them both.
And so at night, instead of sleeping, his mind clamped shut tight on thoughts of school, of Mrs. Cross with her soft-serve vanilla hair and her anxious eyes. She made Trevor think of the rabbits he and his dad hunted in the woods behind their house, the way she darted and flashed in and out of sight. Inside the metal jaws of his mind were images of those closed classrooms, the antiseptic stink of the bathrooms, the girls with their sneers and the boys with their fists. As Gracy slept, cooing and mumbling gibberish, Trevor ground his teeth.
The only time Trevor could forget about school was at the salvage yard. Trevor’s dad had decided that they needed to start putting stuff up on eBay so they could get out-of-state customers too. Trevor had already been going to work with him on the weekends, but his dad said if he came to the yard after school and took pictures of the inventory, then he would give him a 2 percent commission on anything that sold. Trevor had always liked going to work with his dad. Beal’s wife made homemade orange doughnuts, and his dad let him make hot cocoa from the packets for customers with the hot water that came out of the water machine. He brought comic books, and sometimes his dad asked him to help organize stuff or find things out in the yard. Other times, he just let him climb the piles. When he was really little, he used to sit inside the wrecked cars and pretend he was driving, messing with the stick shifts, turning the steering wheels. If he ignored the weeds growing up through the floorboards, he could almost imagine that he was traveling down a real road, the interstate. A superhighway. But now he was here to work.
“So I need photos, good ones, of everything,” his father said.
“You’ll need a digital camera for that, Dad,” Trevor said.
“Beal’s got one. It’s not great, but it’ll do the trick.” He reached across his desk and grabbed a stack of papers. “This here’s the inventory, all of it. I sorted it by category, that’s the first column. See? All the
Air-Conditioning / Heat
items are together. Then comes the subcategories. Like here, see?
AC Compressor, AC Condenser, Actuator,
et cetera, et cetera. Then comes the Make, Model, and Year. The location, where you find it in the yard, is last. I made a blank column at the end where you’ll write in the number of the picture file. It’s real important, especially for the stuff that looks all the same.”
Air-Conditioning / Heat
items are together. Then comes the subcategories. Like here, see?
AC Compressor, AC Condenser, Actuator,
et cetera, et cetera. Then comes the Make, Model, and Year. The location, where you find it in the yard, is last. I made a blank column at the end where you’ll write in the number of the picture file. It’s real important, especially for the stuff that looks all the same.”
Trevor took the stack and scanned the items. There were hundreds.
Thousands
. This could take him months. He wondered if his father expected him to be there all summer too. “What if I can’t find this stuff? I don’t even know what a compressor
looks
like.”
Thousands
. This could take him months. He wondered if his father expected him to be there all summer too. “What if I can’t find this stuff? I don’t even know what a compressor
looks
like.”
His father scowled. “Then you ask somebody for help. Me and Beal are never too far away.” His father handed him the camera, a flimsy and scratched little silver box. It felt like a toy in his hands after the camera Mrs. D. had given him. “Where do I even start?”
“At the top. It’s alphabetical.
Accessories
is the first category. Most of that’s in the trailer out back. Bed liners, floor mats, jacks. And when the camera batteries run out, come get me. I got another batch charging up.”
Accessories
is the first category. Most of that’s in the trailer out back. Bed liners, floor mats, jacks. And when the camera batteries run out, come get me. I got another batch charging up.”
Trevor took the camera and the first several pages from the stack. He could do this, and he could use the money to buy film for his camera. To get it developed. They hadn’t started working in the darkroom at school yet, and he was anxious to see what his photos looked like. It actually wasn’t nearly as bad, as boring, as he thought it would be. It was almost like a treasure hunt; as he dug through the rubble of fenders and dashboards, the stacks of odometers and steering wheels and stereos, there was a certain satisfaction each time he was able to match something on the list. He snapped the photos, recorded the image names, and then at five o’clock his dad would come get him and they’d go home for supper.
Here he could forget about school. The job gave his brain something to do. It wasn’t until later when he lay in bed futilely waiting for sleep that his mind snapped down on what another year at that piece-of-shit school really meant. At the yard, he didn’t think about Mrs. Cross looking at him like he was some sort of pit stain. He didn’t think the bad thoughts, about making Mrs. Cross and everybody else regret the way they’d treated him. He didn’t think about Ethan Sweeney’s squinty eyes and Mike’s stupid face. At the junkyard, looking at the world through the viewfinder,
he
was the one in charge. It was only at night that the snare clamped down. Bit in hard and left his mind punctured and bruised, exhausted, by morning.
he
was the one in charge. It was only at night that the snare clamped down. Bit in hard and left his mind punctured and bruised, exhausted, by morning.
A
t work, Crystal watched the woman with the little girl and noticed for the first time how striking the child was. Almost difficult to look at. She reminded her a little bit of Ty’s sister Dizzy, with her black hair and dark brown eyes.
t work, Crystal watched the woman with the little girl and noticed for the first time how striking the child was. Almost difficult to look at. She reminded her a little bit of Ty’s sister Dizzy, with her black hair and dark brown eyes.
It was Memorial Day weekend, which thankfully meant a short week at school and the chance to pick up some extra shifts at work. She’d been picking up a lot of extra shifts lately, squirreling her money away. She told her parents she was still saving for college, but that was a lie. She didn’t know what she was saving the money for anymore. She had almost $4,000 in her bank account, though, and her parents had no idea. Plus, she actually looked forward to going to work lately. After dodging Ty all day at school, it was such a relief to disappear into the cold, clean aisles of Walgreens. She felt untouchable there. Safe.
She didn’t notice them at first. Walgreens was packed today. Everyone in the entire town of Two Rivers seemed to need something. Charcoal and ice, condiments and paper plates flew off the shelves as though the entire world might be convening later for one giant picnic. Sunscreen and swimming goggles, blow-up water wings and water pistols. The official start of summer had come, despite the chilly edge to the air and the swarms of black flies that made most outdoor activities unbearable. So when the woman came up to her, the little girl riding on her hip, and said, “Excuse me, miss?” she expected someone looking for the citronella candles.
“Yes?” Crystal responded, looking up from the jammed pricing gun. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so,” she said. “I need to get this film developed. Do you guys even do that anymore?”
The woman was clutching a Ziploc baggie with three old-fashioned rolls of film inside.
“Oh sure, of course. Is anybody over in the Photo Department?”
“No,” she said. “Not that I could see anyway.”
Fucking Howard. He was supposed to be manning the photo department, helping people upload their pictures, making prints.
“Here,” Crystal said. “I can help you.”
“Hi,” the little girl said suddenly, lifting her head from her mother’s shoulder.
“Hi,” Crystal said back. Her eyes, that was it. They were almost black. Hard to look at.
“Most people have digital now,” Crystal said as she walked the lady and her daughter to the photo counter.
“They’re my son’s. He’s got one of those old-fashioned cameras. It’s for school.”
“Cool,” Crystal said.
She helped the lady fill out the order envelope and then slipped the rolls of film inside. “It takes about three business days to get these back.”
“Oh, you don’t have one of those machines in the store?”
“Not anymore,” she said. “Did you put your phone number on here so we can call when they’re ready?”
“Uh-huh,” the lady said.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked.
“No, thank you. I just have a few more things to pick up.”
I bet you do,
Crystal thought as the lady disappeared down the grocery aisle, the girl down now and trailing behind her, skipping.
Crystal thought as the lady disappeared down the grocery aisle, the girl down now and trailing behind her, skipping.
They’d been taught at the Walgreens new member orientation how to handle shoplifters. Basically, they were told not to apprehend the shoplifter for smaller items. (And that’s what most shoplifters took anyway: nothing of real consequence.) The theory behind this was that employee safety was Priority One, and that it simply wasn’t worth it to lose your life over a candy bar. Crystal was pretty sure it wasn’t really the employees that Walgreens was worried about so much as a potential lawsuit if some employee got killed over a pack of gum. Or, today, a plastic egg filled with Silly Putty.
Crystal watched the woman slip the red plastic egg out of its package and into her pocket, discarding the cardboard and plastic next on a shelf in the toy aisle. The little girl, oblivious, sat on the floor Indian style, thumbing through a
Princess and the Frog
sticker book, her unknowing little partner in crime. Crystal knew her modus operandi. She stole the little crap and then bought something else to make it seem like she wasn’t doing anything wrong. As expected, the woman arrived at her counter a few minutes later with a six-pack of Pepsi and the sticker book. “Thanks again for your help with the film,” she said, smiling at Crystal. There was something shifty about the woman’s eyes. Nervous. It felt strange knowing that she had the power to bust her any second; she could have the cops taking her away in handcuffs if she wanted to. She could wreck this woman’s life.
Princess and the Frog
sticker book, her unknowing little partner in crime. Crystal knew her modus operandi. She stole the little crap and then bought something else to make it seem like she wasn’t doing anything wrong. As expected, the woman arrived at her counter a few minutes later with a six-pack of Pepsi and the sticker book. “Thanks again for your help with the film,” she said, smiling at Crystal. There was something shifty about the woman’s eyes. Nervous. It felt strange knowing that she had the power to bust her any second; she could have the cops taking her away in handcuffs if she wanted to. She could wreck this woman’s life.
The little girl was twirling in front of the chips rack, her pink tutu twirling around her like a puff of cotton candy. She had dirty feet and ragged flip-flops, a T-shirt that said
Daddy’s Little Monster
. Something about all of this, the stolen Silly Putty, the tutu, made Crystal’s heart ache. What would happen to her if her mother got caught? She probably stole stuff from places other than the Walgreens, Crystal thought. A place with a less tolerant policy.
Daddy’s Little Monster
. Something about all of this, the stolen Silly Putty, the tutu, made Crystal’s heart ache. What would happen to her if her mother got caught? She probably stole stuff from places other than the Walgreens, Crystal thought. A place with a less tolerant policy.
The lady paid for her stuff and then hoisted the little girl back up onto her hip. But rather than taking her bag and leaving, she stood staring awkwardly at Crystal. And suddenly, with her free hand, she reached out and touched Crystal’s arm, tentatively, as if she were afraid Crystal might bite or lash out. Crystal’s breath caught in her throat at the woman’s touch.
“You look great,” the lady said softly. “It took me like a year to lose the weight. No one would ever guess you just had a baby.”
Crystal’s eyes stung as she watched the lady walk through the security gate and out into the sunlit afternoon, the little girl clinging to her for dear life.
At home, she locked both doors to the bathroom. Angie had been using the counter for an art project again; there was paint splattered all over the sink. Soggy painted paper towels all along the edge of the sink. Her messes drove Crystal crazy. Angie was the kind of kid that grown-ups love. Creative and smart. She wanted to be an artist when she grew up; she’d known this since she was six years old. Her room was a chaotic disaster, and she didn’t care at all about the way she looked; half the time she left the house wearing mismatched clothes. Other kids teased her, but she didn’t seem to care. She got straight As at school. She was the star of every elementary school play. She won every coloring contest, every poster contest, every spelling bee. She was twelve years old, but she already knew exactly who she was, who she was meant to be. Crystal envied this single-minded certainty.
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